#but he was CLEARLY-- in that moment-- thinking about what he would have done had he just lost someone he loved deeply (and romantically)

[itneverendshere]

lovee bartender!reader and rafe soo much, theyre daydream content fr!!! <3 if it takes your fancy, maybe a little piece where readers tired so she puts her pride away and does go to rafe for help (even if only for something very small) and hes just elated, ecstatic, all the words for it! that man is always so stressed, need him to have some peace LOL

she eventually becomes a little less headstrong about his help so this when she finally really understands that’s is okay to need someone else sometimes 🙂‍↕️🫂 thank you for the request! and also thank you for loving them too 🫶🏻

year dark night and now i see daylight - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

You wiped down the bar for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. 

The lights glinted off the glasses, making you squint. You were so tired. Your legs felt like they would give out at any moment, and the tension in your shoulders was making your neck ache, but there was no time to stop. 

There was never any time to stop.

You’d been running on fumes for days now—maybe weeks?—but who was counting? Not you, clearly. Because taking a break or slowing down?

That just wasn’t in your vocabulary. You were fine. You could handle it. You always handled it. You didn’t need help.

The headache you’d been ignoring was getting worse, though, creeping behind your eyes, making you blink more than usual. Your hands were shaky, and if you were being honest with yourself (which you rarely were these days), your body was running on empty. But still, there was work to do, and people needed drinks, and you weren’t about to let anyone think you couldn’t do your job.

You paused, gripping the edge of the bar a little tighter than necessary when the room seemed to tilt, just for a second. That was new. You sucked in a slow breath, trying to steady yourself. 

Nope. Not now. Can’t do this here. 

There was no way you were going to break down in the middle of your shift, in front of everyone. You’d tough it out like you always did.

“Hey!” Your co-worker voice cut through the pain, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was waving you over to another table where more customers had just sat down.

Perfect. More people. Just what you needed.

You forced your feet to move, pushing through the exhaustion as best you could. 

You felt that familiar wave of anxiety, your new best friend, but you shoved it down like always.

You could handle it. You had to. Because asking for help? Letting someone see you weren’t doing okay? That was never an option. Except…maybe this time, it was.

You hesitated behind the bar, staring blankly at the group that had just sat down. They could wait a minute, right? Just one minute to pull yourself together. You’d earned that, at least.

Before you knew it, your phone was in your hand, thumb hovering over one name in your contacts: Rafe.

You hated asking for help. He worried about you enough as it was, constantly telling you to slow down or take it easy. You usually brushed him off. But tonight…tonight felt different. You were running on nothing but pride and stubbornness at this point, and even that was starting to crack.

Swallowing hard, you hit Call.

It rang twice before you heard his voice. “Hey, baby, what’s up?” Rafe sounded surprised—probably because you never called him when you were working. You could hear the concern creeping in already.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hating how vulnerable you felt just by calling him. “Can you—uh, can you come pick me up? I’m kinda…done.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end, like he was processing the fact that you, of all people, were asking for help. When he spoke again, his voice was almost relieved. “Yeah, ‘course. I’ll be there in ten. Don’t move, okay?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, the tight knot in your chest loosening just a little.

Hanging up, you slumped against the counter, finally letting yourself breathe. Ten minutes. You could make it ten more minutes.

Rafe arrived faster than you expected, his tall frame pushing through the double doors of the club. His eyes locked onto you immediately, and the second he saw you, his tough guy expression dropped. You didn’t realize how close you were to falling apart until you saw the way he was looking at you. 

“You okay?” he asked, crossing the bar in a few quick strides, his hand already reaching for yours.

For once, you didn’t brush him off with a quick “I’m fine.” You just shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. “Not really.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in that way that made you feel safe, like it was okay to just not be strong for a second. You hadn’t noticed how badly you needed this—how badly you needed him—until now. Rafe’s chin rested against the top of your head, and you could feel his heart beating under your cheek.

When you finally pulled back, he didn’t let go right away, his blue eyes searching your face. His brow furrowed as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing softly along your cheek. You must’ve looked worse than you thought because the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.

“You really weren’t kidding about being done, huh?” His voice was gentle, but you could hear the hint of frustration in it. Not at you, but at the fact that you’d been pushing yourself this hard without saying anything sooner.

You gave him a weak smile, trying to shrug it off. “Yeah, I guess I went a little overboard this week. But I’m fine now. You’re here.”

He sighed, shaking his head but pulling you closer again, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back, “You’re gonna give me a heart-attack before thirty.”

You bit your lip, that familiar guilt settling in your chest. You knew he was right. You knew he worried all the time, every single day. But admitting you needed help—especially to him—took a lot of energy, like ripping away the last bit of control you had. And control was how you survived. How you kept everything in check.

He wasn’t going to think less of you for it. If anything, he looked elated that you’d let him in, that you trusted him enough to ask. You nodded, feeling the tears start to prick the back of your eyes. “I know. I just—” You broke off, not really knowing how to explain it. “I keep doing this. I’m sorry.”

“I got you,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you home.”

The quiet of the truck felt like a much-needed break from everything, the engine lulling you into something close to sleep. You hadn’t realized just how tense you were until now, with the night air coming through the window and Rafe’s hand resting on your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin.

You leaned your head back against the seat, watching the headlights of passing cars flash by. It felt weird to not be constantly thinking about what came next, what else needed to get done, or how much work you still had to finish. For once, it was like your brain was actually giving you a break, like it was saying, “Yeah, okay, you can relax now. You’re not alone.”

You glanced over at Rafe, his jaw set in concentration as he drove, but the way his fingers held onto you so gently told you everything. He hadn’t said much since you left the club, but you didn’t need him to.

“Are you hungry?” 

You blinked, realizing you hadn’t even thought about food. You weren’t really sure if you were hungry or just exhausted. “Not really,” you admitted. “I just wanna get home.”

Rafe nodded, giving your leg a gentle squeeze. “Okay. Almost there.”

You let out a breath, grateful that he didn’t push. He never did. It was one of the reasons being with him felt so easy, even when everything else in your life felt overwhelming. He never tried to fix things for you, never made you feel like you were weak for needing help. He just showed up—every time.

The minutes passed, and before you knew it, you were pulling up to his place. The sight of his house—your second home at this point—made your anxiety loosen even more. You didn’t have to do anything here. No one needed you to be “on.” You could just…exist.

“You good?” he asked, offering his hand to help you out.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you mumbled, though your body still felt like it might give out if you let yourself relax too much. You took his hand anyway, letting him help you down.

Once you were inside, you kicked off your shoes and practically collapsed onto the couch, feeling the cushions sink under you like they were the softest thing in the world. You pulled your knees up, wrapping your arms around them as Rafe moved around the room, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over you before sitting down next to you, close but not smothering.

He knew exactly how to handle you—how to be there without overwhelming you. He just sat there, his arm slung over the back of the couch, waiting for you to speak or not speak, whatever you needed. And that’s when it hit you how lucky you were to have him.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not really sure why the words came out, but feeling like you had to say something.

Rafe frowned, his hand brushing over your shoulder. “For what?”

“For… I don’t know. For not telling you sooner that I was struggling. For always acting like I can handle everything when I clearly can’t.”

He shook his head, giving you that soft smile that made you feel like the most important person in the world. “You don’t have to apologize for that, baby. I know you. You you don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

You bit your lip, “I just don’t want to feel like I’m dumping all my shit on you.”

Rafe leaned in a little closer, his hand now resting on your knee. “You’re not dumping anything on me. We’re in this together. I love you, and I want to be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, but this time it wasn’t from stress. It was from the realization that he was right.

He’d always been right and you knew it, it just took you months to process it.

You exhaled, leaning your head against his shoulder, “I love you too,” you whispered, the words feeling more powerful now, more real.

Because this wasn’t just love. This was trust.

He kissed the top of your head, his fingers gently running through your hair as he pulled you closer. He wasn’t frustrated or upset. He was just there, in that patient way that made you fall for him in the first place.

"You’re really too good to me, you know that?" you said softly, tracing your finger over the back of his hand.

He shook his head. “Nah, you deserve it. Besides, it’s not like you make it easy for me to help.”

He said it teasingly, but there was truth in his words. You knew you had a habit of trying to do everything on your own, shutting people out when you felt overwhelmed.

You looked down, feeling a little sheepish. "Yeah, I know. I’m working on it."

"Hey," he said, gently tilting your chin up so you were looking at him again. "I’m kidding. I’m here for you, okay?”

Your heart did that little flip thing it always did when he said stuff like that, like you couldn’t believe someone could love you that much, but at the same time, you knew it was true. 

“If I mess up again, just remind me that you said I don’t have to be perfect."

He chuckled, pulling you back into his arms. “You know, you’re probably gonna fall asleep on me right here.”

You smiled, your eyes already half-closed. “Maybe that’s the plan.”

You knew he was grinning without looking, feeling it he leaned down to kiss the top of your head again.

“Okay, but you’re definitely not getting out of taking care of yourself tomorrow. I’m making you pancakes in the morning. You’re eating, and you’re not gonna fight me on it.”

“Mmm, pancakes sound good,” you mumbled, already feeling the pull of sleep creeping in. “But only if you make the chocolate chip ones.”

“Deal.”

Wrapped up in his arms, the world outside of this little bubble didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore

[oldmanjenkins985]

TW for pedophila since I mention it very briefly at one point I would like to clarify, with all the Tessa age shit that's been going on, that my intent with this was not to prove that Tessa is an adult so she can go on to be sexualized and shit like that. My intent was to prove it was ambigious by showing all the evidence is circumstantial with explanations that both sides could use. And if you boil down *any* character, ambigious age or not, to sexualizing them, that's a completely different issue and one that very much matters. I very much do not care for that stuff, and yes I did have a crush on Tessa once. I was 17 at the time though, meaning that even if she was as young 15 that'd only be a 2 year age gap, so don't you *dare* try and accuse me of being a fuckin' weirdo or anything. I've moved on to other characters now, that being N and Uzi.

Now then, to go along with that, anyone who is uncomfortable with explicit remarks made towards Tessa or Flesha are *completely* allowed to do that regardless of her age. Whether in ambiguity or if she eventually gets confirmed to be an adult, you are *allowed* to be uncomfortable with that. You're allowed to do that with 40 year olds even.

A lot of you who were saying constantly that Tessa is a minor as if it was canon are yourselves minors. So I completely understand why you'd feel this way. The two examples I can think of are @/nuvimuvi and @/kittydragondraws (Don't wanna ping cause I don't wanna bother you with this crap). Your feelings on this are valid and there's no need for you to say Tessa is a minor as if it's confirmed canon when it's not and even one of the people in the Glitch Inn can't give a definitive answer. I don't care that he's not the end all be all, if he has just as much info as the rest of us then why would he come to the conclusion it's ambigious if he could look and see she's "clearly" a minor?

So basically: You're allowed to headcanon Tessa as a minor and be uncomfortable with explicit content surrounding her and Flesha, but that does not mean Tessa is canonically a minor and that people are pedos for saying stuff like that.

Oh, one more thing since we're here. I wanna touch on the Bite Me music video render to clear things up.

So, I've seen a lot of people saying this isn't a "sexy" pose (sorry for lack of better word), but it just...is. And no, that doesn't mean they're sexualizing Flesha, I'll get to that in a moment.

So if you just look up "sexy lean back sitting" on google, you'll find a ton of pictures of people posed extremely similar to Cyn. I'm also pretty certain I've seen pin-up drawings of when in this pose. And one final example: Widowmaker from Overwatch. *The* character who's sexualization is a big part of her design. Her sitting emote is this exact pose. And for as long as I've known this is just *the* sexy sitting pose for women. I don't know where I got that from, just that it's been in my brain for years now.

Now then, let's get back to what I said earlier about this not necessarily meaning it's meant to be sexual. I just went over how it is clearly sexual, so why the fuck am I saying it's possibly not? Very simple, it could be a joke. I've done the "Sexy pose" as a joke for years now. Even when I was 16, 17, hell even maybe as far back as 15, I've done this *exact* pose as a joke. I'm a man, so a pose like this isn't the "sexy" pose most would think of for males and that's why it worked as a joke because it was like "oh, I'm so girly" Now that doesn't mean you *have* to be a man to make it ironic and funny rather than actually sexualizing. You can just be a girl or say...an eldritch horror wearing a girl's skin. Something that horrid looking could be seen as funny when doing a pose like this since it's not exactly something you expect to see. And an even further way to say it isn't sexual: It just...might not be intended that way. It could very well just be how they had her sit. Like I said before, this is *the* go to sexy pose for women, but that doesn't mean every woman sitting like this is intending for that to be how she's percieved. They could just be...sitting.

In conclusion of that, yes this is a sexy pose, stop saying it isn't, but that doesn't mean the intent is that Flesha is supposed to be attractive. It could very easily be a joke or have no intent behind it and that's it. So once again, like most stuff surrounding this, it's completely up to the viewer to interpret it as it's ambigious.

[danrifics]

i don't recall dan ever mentioning his nakedbooths? like when phannies say dan said to not post them i can never find a source so it sounds like one of those moments of a fandom trying to be as morally correct/respectful as possible, even if the creator/media they're stanning dgaf (like how non-phannies are with dnp and how 'rps/rpf ruined their relationship' or whatever). however, in dan's instance, i think him not mentioning his nakedbooths says something too bc i'm sure like with the voting nude he could joke about them if he wanted to but clearly he doesn't want to even acknowledge them happening + as u mentioned he was freshly 18

yeah this is why i wasn’t 100% sure what he said if anything cos people definitely like to put words in dnps mouth a lot but yeah i feel like he’s had a few opportunities to make jokes about it but he never has and i also think that says a lot about the situation.

i’m sure people are gonna do the old “he posted them so it’s fair game” thing but if you look at it in the fact that 1) he posted those in 2009 so how was he to know what internet culture would become 2) how was he gonna know he’d have million of followers one day who were gonna be able to see all of these things!

like i don’t care if people make jokes about it (i’ve done it before) but i think we’ve come to a point where we don’t need to be recirculating them.

[corkinavoid]

Fiance to a Star News

I have given up on trying to force myself to keep working on it. But, hold on, it doesn't mean I'm abandoning it.

I'm looking for a beta/editor/co-author, I'm really not sure what to call it. Let me explain this a bit.

[Update: help found! Thank you!]

I've written that fic in its entirety almost six months ago, in my native language. Then, when I decided to post it, I ran it all through Google Translate. Which is great at translating things word for word in their literal meaning, but not great for sentence structure, idioms, and some minor grammar mishaps. So, since I've posted the first chapter, I've been tideously going through every sentence and either correcting or rewriting it while keeping the meaning.

I am now in the middle of chapter four, and I'm officially so done with it that I'm starting to think about just deleting it all. Which would be a great waste since I do still love that fic.

So I'm looking for someone to help me out here.

More explanations and stuff under the cut.

Let me first show you what I mean by helping me out:

Example of what the text is now:

Tim is silent for a while. The prospects are clearly not rosy, and he, to be honest, doesn’t really understand what to do next. Until now, all he had thought about was how to get out of here, so now that that possibility was gone, he just...

While it is understandable enough, it is not exactly good sentence-structure and grammar wise. Also, it's as plain as white bread.

Example of what the text should (to my best abilities) look like:

Tim pauses, taken aback. The situation does not look very promising, and, if he is being honest, he has no idea of what to do now. Until this moment, all he had thought about was how to get out of the woods. But now that it was not happening and the last chances of escape have all slipped through his fingers, he just...

You see what I mean?

It's extra confusing for myself since when I see the unedited text, my brain automatically reads it in another language and making myself switch manually is draining as fuck, and I'm at my limit.

There's also the issue of some names that translated wrong/did not translate properly/translated as a wrong word. For example, the head of the Academy would be called Headmaster in English, but it translated to Director, or the fact Google Translate keeps translating Sam's pronouns to he/him for some unknown reason, and many more little details.

So I desperately need help.

Perks: co-authoring, access to all the chapters, naturally, as well as all the random notes, pieces of lore that I have, but that have not made it into the fic, any question regarding the fic answered, random thoughts, permission to rewrite literally anything how you see fit (while keeping the general line of plot). Is it co-authoring or adoption at this point? I have no idea, really, but whatever you prefer.

If you're interested, just message me for any other details <3

P.S. Please understand that there are 10 (maybe 9.5) chapters to be edited. And also that I will be giving you a sort of test piece of text to try it out. If, at any point later, you decide it's not your cup of tea anymore, that's totally fine, I'll understand. I just really, really want to post this fic, but I don't want to throw the plain unedited version there.

Thanks in advance!

[benbamboozled]

Bruce Wayne Headcanons

that I cannot reconcile with current/most/ALL of his comics characterization but I hold onto nevertheless

—Bruce Wayne!! trains each of his Robins with the goal of them becoming better than him.

—Bruce Wayne!! intends for the Robins to be his actual failsafe if he ever went off the deep end. (Fuck that weirdo robot lol.)

—Bruce Wayne!! 1000% blames himself for Jason Todd’s death I don’t care what the comics have had him say or what his dumbass inner-narrative has said…*handwave handwave* all of that was just him desperately trying to cover the hole in his heart from failing his son so completely.

[shotmrmiller]

ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"

[cherienymphe]

White Lines & White Knights

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, pr*stitution, power imbalance, classism, mentions of death, jealousy, humiliation, revenge p*rn, drug dealer!Rafe, drug use, Pogue!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: You and Rafe are using each other until you decide that's not what you want anymore, and the spoiled rich kid will do whatever it takes to have his expensive toy back in his bed.

⭑

Your door shut behind you with a resounding click, and once in the comfort of your home, you took the time to decompress. You took advantage of your much needed reprieve, the back of your head grazing the wood as you allowed your eyes to fall closed. Your heart was still beating wildly in your chest, and you wondered if a day would come where it ever wouldn’t. After all, this wasn’t exactly “new” anymore…

It had been five months since you buried your mom, five months since you discovered the mountain of debt she’d done an impressive job of hiding from you, and five months since you thought you’d be homeless on the street in less than one. In two weeks, you’d dealt with a loss you didn’t think you’d have to for at least another forty years or so and took on the kind of responsibility you didn’t think you’d have to for at least another three.

Your mom died 152 days ago…

…and you’d started fucking Rafe Cameron less than a month later.

You liked to pretend to not know why you slept with Kildare’s prime rich boy that fateful Saturday night, but you were far more self aware than you wanted to be. Even if you weren’t, it wasn’t exactly some mysterious string of decisions that lead to being tangled up in the sheets with Sarah’s asshole of an older brother. You didn’t need to pay someone to diagnose you.

You were grieving.

It was really just that simple, and the monetary stress on top of that drove you to find comfort in strange drinks and hard drugs. To this day you still didn’t know if Rafe just happened to be at the right place at the right time or if he heard whispers about John B.’s best friend snorting pills and getting shit faced when her usual crowd was looking the other way, but either way, the stuffy Kook clearly saw an opportunity to kill several birds with one stone.

“First two lines are free,” he’d told you that night, the bass of the music downstairs muffled by the expensive walls of some girl’s house.

You remembered how you’d chuckled, drunkenly shaking your head.

“Well, two lines is all I’m doing, I guess,” you’d murmured, throwing your hands up.

Rafe’s smirk had been cruel, a mocking glint in his blue eyes.

“What?” he’d dragged out, head tilted. “Spent all that life insurance money, already?”

Any other time and Rafe’s insensitivity might’ve upset you, but at the time you’d been drunk out of your mind and looking for more ways to forget the sudden absence in your life.

“I can’t imagine why Sarah hates you,” you’d sarcastically replied, approaching the impressive desk and leaning over to inhale a line.

You wiped your nose as you straightened, lashes fluttering as you ignored the feeling of Rafe’s gaze on you.

“I’ll be lucky if I even have a house to live in next week.”

The words had come out slurred, accompanied by a light chuckle, and deep down you’d felt the flutter of stress that you’d been desperately ignoring for weeks. You’d quickly snorted the other line, closing your eyes for a moment.

“Turns out my mom was skilled at hiding more than just illnesses…”

You remembered the silence—from both you and Rafe—and how in that moment you’d allowed yourself a solid four seconds of lingering on the reality of your predicament. In those four seconds, your eyes had watered and your lips had trembled and your throat had tightened, and after those four seconds, you were turning to Rafe with a haughty smile.

“Guess you won’t be finding a new client in me, huh?” you’d wondered with a shrug, finding a seat on the desk.

Rafe’s blue gaze had been unreadable as he eyed you, sitting in the chair at the desk, legs spread as he ran his eyes over you—slowly and in a way you didn’t hate at the time. You hadn’t been able to tell what he was thinking, although looking back, you wondered how it wasn’t so obvious to you then. Maybe because it was just too cruel of a thought, and while it was no secret Rafe was a spoiled asshole, you had never once thought of him as cruel.

Rafe had merely shrugged.

“There’s plenty of fish in the sea,” he’d slowly said, the corner of his pink lips curving upwards just a tad. “Besides…”

You’d watched him stand, rounding the desk to come and tower over you where you sat.

“I like to think of myself as a pretty ethical kind of guy…”

You’d started to snort at that before his gaze met yours again, and you found yourself swallowing whatever you were about to say. You hadn’t done a thing when Rafe reached up to touch your arm, the feel of his finger so light. You hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the way your heart skipped a beat at both his close proximity and the change in atmosphere. You hadn’t been able to ignore—however—the heat that settled in the pit of your stomach.

“...and I’ve been known to meet people halfway. Accept whatever they can offer…”

You remembered your internal conflict that night.

You’d been drunk and high and sad…not stupid. You knew exactly what Rafe was insinuating to you, and you’d struggled with the idea of really sleeping with Rafe Cameron for more drugs. The man was far from unattractive, sure that if drugs weren’t involved you’d still consider sleeping with him. If you’d believed in any of that, you’d imagine that your mom was turning over in her grave. At the time though, you hadn’t been quite sure as to what you believed in, so when he took your silence for consent, leaning in and touching your nose with his…

You hadn’t stopped him when he closed the distance.

You hadn’t even known whose house you were at, only internally apologizing to them for having sex on their expensive desk. You didn’t know if it was the drugs or the alcohol or simply Rafe Cameron, but it was easily the best sex you’d ever had in your life, and at one point you’d really considered how much better it could possibly be to fuck him without the condom.

You had no idea that you’d eventually find out.

Once dressed, you’d walked home with a small bag of pills and a satisfied grin. You knew that your friends would host some kind of intervention if they ever found out, but all you’d been able to focus on was the simple fact that fucking Rafe Cameron for a little coke and pills wasn’t sounding like the worst idea. Of course, if you’d known that you’d eventually start fucking him for your livelihood, you might’ve made different choices that night.

You pressed your hand to your face and pushed away from the door, eager to start the shower and scrub the stench of him off of you. Per routine, you took the money out of your pocket before getting undressed, eyeing the wad of one hundreds that now sat on your nightstand. Two grand was nothing to someone like him, but to someone like you, it made all the difference in the world.

…and Rafe knew that.

He’d known that when he handed you a thousand dollars one night, the coke in your system just starting to hit. You’d looked up at him from where you sat in confusion, hesitantly wrapping your hand around the money as you alternated between eyeing it and eyeing him. You hadn’t known how to feel about it, especially since it had only been moments ago when he was inside of you…and there he was handing you a grand in hundreds.

“Don’t look like that,” Rafe had chuckled, walking to his dresser in search of a shirt. “You know you need the money.”

He wasn’t wrong…and that was the problem.

Unless you hit a lucky streak in life, you’d always need the money, and that was exactly why you were in the predicament you were in—four months later and putting up with the monster that was Rafe Cameron just to keep a roof over your head. The thought brought tears to your eyes, positive now that your mom could see you and was beyond disappointed in you. 

Her disappointment could only be outdone by your own.

You were in a situation that you couldn’t get out of, on the verge of ending this arrangement so many times before asking yourself what better way could you pay your mom’s debts and survive? It wasn’t easy money by far, but it was fast money, and it was the kind of money that would take months to make at whatever low paying job you’d find around Outer Banks. Someone like you rarely got hired at the country club or working for some rich snob who wiped their ass with the kind of money you needed.

Rafe knew this too.

Tears kissed your eyes as you scrubbed your skin raw, wishing that you could scrub away the nasty bruise right along with the sweat and grime. You winced every time you touched it, cursing the blond and feeling one of those moments where you considered blocking him and moving on from this pathetic era in your life for good.

Fucking Rafe Cameron for drugs didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time, fucking him for money seemed like an even better one…until that entitled attitude started to extend to the woman he was paying good money to have access to. You remembered the first time you opposed something he wanted to do, the way in which he ignored you, the way he merely pressed your face into the pillow to shut you up.

It was the first time you felt truly icky about this whole situation.

Not even just icky.

…but afraid.

“I don’t pay you to tell me what you will and won’t do in bed,” he’d chuckled at you like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

You’d still been trembling and wiping mascara from your cheeks.

“I pay you because I want to fuck you,” he’d slowly whispered to you, leaning in. “...and you let me because you don’t want to be sleeping on the beach.”

He’d held your gaze for what felt like too long, impressing upon you the true dynamic of this arrangement, and you remembered the unease that had festered in your gut that day. Maybe all the drugs and alcohol hadn’t allowed you to fully look at this arrangement for what it was and the power imbalance here, but you had for the first time that day, and you hadn’t liked it.

You liked it even less now, wrapping the towel around you and wondering how you were ever going to get out of this predicament you’d put yourself into.

“My family’s going out of town for the weekend,” the familiar blond mumbled to you as he inhaled a familiar powdery substance off the back of his hand. “Pack a bag when you get home, and I’ll pick you up tomorrow night.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at that, huffing instead.

“I can’t spend the whole weekend on Figure 8,” you told him. “I have plans.”

Rafe nodded, and you hated the smile that danced across his lips.

“Okay, uh, be ready at 8, I don’t want-.”

“Rafe, I’m serious,” you cut him off, shrugging. “I can’t stay at your house all weekend.”

You watched him watch you, slowly swiping his tongue between his lips as a frown started to take over. His dirty blond hair kissed his brows, and the longer the silence stretched, the more nervous you grew. You watched as Rafe glanced away, seemingly deep in thought before those baby blues of his rested on you, much colder than they were a few seconds ago.

“What the hell am I paying you for?” he whispered.

The question was rhetorical, and you swallowed.

“Rafe…I’ve barely seen my friends in months. I finally made plans to meet up with them for more than five minutes and-.”

“...and whose fault is that?” he shrugged.

You frowned at him.

“Nobody told you to go off on a bender when your mom kicked the bucket…” you blinked at his callousness. “Maybe you should’ve been finding comfort in your friends instead of drugs and vodka…and me.”

He finished his sentence with a soft—and yet cruel—smile.

“I pay you good money—great money even!—to be available when I want you to be, and unless you’ve found some other rich asshole to open your legs for, which I doubt…be ready tomorrow at 8.”

He was standing, now, looking down at you where you sat on the bed. The harsh reminder of your roles here had you looking away, and Rafe turned away when he rightfully took your silence as confirmation. You stared at the wall for a few moments before turning to stare at his back, thinking to yourself that this couldn’t go on much longer. Whether it took 1 or 5 jobs, you couldn’t keep relying on Rafe Cameron forever.

What was once a weekly occurrence had turned into something entirely other, and it hadn’t bothered you so much when your mother’s death was still so fresh and you were seeking solace in the worst coping mechanisms known to man—including isolation. Now, however, you were waking up to the choices you’d made and you hated the feeling of being inebriated and being surrounded by people you barely knew.

You hated being away from your friends.

“I didn’t even know you’d gotten a job,” John B. said to you hours later, looking disappointed but understanding. “JJ’s gonna be real disappointed. He’s been talking all week about having you try some new weed he got.”

You gave a light laugh at that, a pang in your chest at how much you missed doing stupid shit with them.

“Yeah,” you sadly said. “The world—and bills—doesn’t stop just because my mom died.”

The brunette grew quiet at that, worriedly eyeing you now.

“You doing okay…?”

You sighed at that, looking out over the yard of The Chateau, fiddling with your fingers as you thought of a certain blond.

“I’ve been better, but…I’ve been worse too.”

Your answer was honest, and you briefly wondered what John B. would think if he knew just how bad ‘worse’ had been. You didn’t think any of them would hate you if they knew the full extent of just how far you’d fallen, but you knew they’d have a hard time wrapping their head around it. The drugs and alcohol were one thing, but Rafe Cameron was entirely another. The man was the worst example of a Kook if there was one, representing every bad trait attributed to them.

Your friends would not understand you essentially sacrificing your self respect for money and drugs.

Sometimes you didn’t understand it either. 

Most especially when Rafe had his hands around your neck.

He picked you up at 8 on the dot Friday night—a man of his word if nothing else—and less than a hour later you were bent over his father’s desk as he pounded into you. Your head was hanging off of it, fighting hard to not scrape your nails against the dark mahogany. It wasn’t the first time Rafe fucked you on Ward’s desk, and you doubted that it would be the last time. There’d even been a few rare occasions when he fucked you in the older man’s bed, and you didn’t know what complex the blond had that fueled these decisions, but you weren’t a psychologist so you figured it wasn’t anything to concern yourself with.

Despite the tight grip on your throat, a choked moan managed to escape every time Rafe pushed his cock into you. Sweat made his skin glisten, and you were sure you fared no better. His hair wasn’t so neat, now, and you had the stray thought that you preferred it that way. Rafe being so far from ugly definitely made this arrangement easier to swallow down at times, but other times it just made you angry.

How was it fair that someone seemingly had everything, including the big dick to match?

Rafe walked around like he was God’s gift to the world, possessing one of the most rotten personalities you’d ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of, and he seemed to be rewarded with it with everything the average person could only dream about. As if any of that wasn’t enough, you practically rewarded him with even more by essentially telling him he could do whatever he wanted so long as the price was right.

It made you disgusted with yourself at times.

When he pressed a hand to your stomach, hips slowing to a pace that made your breath hitch, you squeezed your eyes shut. In the quiet office, the sound of his cock disappearing between your folds was loud, the wet noise telling you that there’d no doubt be a mess left on Ward’s desk when this was all said and done. You heard Rafe curse, and you didn’t have the energy to lift your head from where it hung off the desk.

“...and to think,” he panted from above you. “You were going to pass this up to sit around with those dirty Pogues.”

At this, you did attempt to sit up, a hand against his chest and one on the desk as he thrusted into you.

“Those ‘dirty Pogues’ are my friends,” you forced out, lashes fluttering. “...and clearly you forget that I’m one too.”

Rafe merely chuckled at that, perfect teeth winking at you as he grinned.

“Yeah, but you’re my dirty Pogue so it’s a little different.”

His words had your frown deepening, disgust filling your chest at the way he talked about you while literally fucking you. Completely turned off, you turned your head away, attempting to separate yourself from him. That haughty laugh reached your ears, and to your dismay, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“What…?” he lazily drawled. “You don’t like the sound of that?”

“You’re being an asshole, get off of me…”

He jerked his hips against you, making you gasp, and you squirmed in his arms as you fought to get away. Rafe leaned in to harshly nip his teeth at your cheek, his movements growing rough, causing the desk to shake.

“I’ve spent too much money on you to not say whatever the hell I want,” he evenly said. “So, yeah, at this point, I’ll confidently say I practically own you.”

Tears kissed your eyes at the disgusting words, and fed up with your resistance, Rafe merely placed a hand between your breasts before harshly shoving you back down. You winced at the action, but you had no time to fully linger on it as Rafe started to roughly plunge his cock into you, the sound of his skin slapping against yours reaching your ears. He wouldn’t allow you to sit up, both of his hands wrapped around your wrists now as he leaned over you.

This felt too reminiscent of the time he’d pressed your face into the bed, telling you to relax as he pressed the head of his cock just above where your folds were. You recalled the uncomfortable feeling and the tears that stained the pillow as he slowly fucked you in a place no one ever had before. The deja vu of it all had your mind wandering, eyes defocusing as you just waited for it to be over. It seemed like Rafe’s grunts sounded from above you forever, and when he finally came onto your stomach with a low moan, you didn’t move for some time.

You were slow to sit up as he got dressed, trembling as you steaded yourself for what you were about to say.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

The words came out whispered, but in the quiet study, you might as well have yelled them. Rafe didn’t acknowledge you, and you knew it wasn’t because he hadn’t heard you. Frustrated with his refusal to take you seriously, you hopped off of Ward’s desk, angrily grabbing your clothes.

“I’m serious, Rafe. After this weekend…this is done,” you continued, voice firmer, now. “Don’t call me or text me or worry about any more money. I can’t rely on you forever anyway.”

By now, Rafe was actually listening to you, and you avoided his gaze as you got dressed. His silence was loud, and when you were finally decent again, only then did you lift your gaze to glance at him. His visage was unreadable, and after some time, he merely blinked at you.

“If I remember correctly, per your own words, your mom had enough debt ‘to file for bankruptcy’.”

His words made you sharply inhale, and you bit your tongue as he ran his hands through his hair in a poor attempt to tame the damp locks.

“Don’t ruin your life just because you’re pissed at me,” he coldly added.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pulling your lip between your teeth.

“Personal feelings aside, I can’t rely on you forever, Rafe. That’s just the truth. I have to figure something out eventually, and there’s no time like the present,” your voice shook as he fixed you with an unnerving stare. “I miss my friends, and I don’t want to be the sad, damaged girl running to Rafe Cameron just so I don’t feel anything anymore.”

The blond followed your lead, folding his arms over his own chest as he leaned against the wall, staring you down with that annoying crooked smile.

“...and where exactly do you plan to find a job that pays you what I do?”

“There are jobs, Rafe. I’ll find one.”

You didn’t appreciate his tone nor the look he was giving you as he studied you. He was looking down on you, and yes while that wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence, this time was different. He was looking down his nose like he didn’t believe in you, like he expected you to be crawling back to him in no time, begging him to fuck you again.

After a few moments, that crooked smile curved even more, and you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes.

“Well, I wish you luck…”

His voice didn’t match the words that came out of his mouth, and his gaze most certainly didn’t.

“I literally called this morning and was told over the phone that you all were hiring...and now I get here, and I’m being told you’re not…?”

You tried to keep the skepticism out of your tone, but your frustration at your predicament was bubbling up and threatening to be unleashed on the lone man before you. The inside of the country club was practically empty—a slow Tuesday—and you briefly glanced around at the two staffers in the whole room. Sure, you could write it off to a slow day that didn’t need a full staff, but something in you told you that it was more than that.

You didn’t believe the man in front of you.

“Look, I don’t know what else to tell you, miss. Whoever you talked to got it wrong. I’m sorry for the miscommunication on our end,” was his only explanation.

You didn’t dare bother to point out that both he and whoever you’d spoken with on the phone sounded damn near identical.

When it became obvious that this conversation was over, you turned away with a small huff, breezing outside to a familiar dark car. Kie was standing by it, arms uncomfortably crossed over her chest, glaringly obvious that she’d rather be anywhere but here despite being from ‘here’.

“Well…?” she wondered as you got closer.

“They’re not hiring,” you mumbled as you slid into the passenger seat.

She joined you inside the vehicle a moment later, a frown on her face.

“...but you called.”

“I know.”

There was a beat of silence before she scoffed, reaching for her door handle.

“If this is because you aren’t some rich snob looking for play money…”

She trailed off when you spoke up.

“No, I don’t…I don’t think it’s that,” you stopped her. “Let’s just go.”

She eyed you for a few moments, frown deepening.

“Are you sure? Y/N, this is like the fourth place you’ve been to today,” she pointed out. “...and I don’t want to add my stress to your stress, but it’s kind of fucked up.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that it wasn’t possible for you to be any more stressed than you already were, simply signaling for her to drive. You could feel her eyes periodically landing on you as she did, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek, wondering why the universe had it out for you.

It had been weeks since you’d last seen or talked to Rafe, weeks since you ended your little arrangement, and weeks since you’d had a consistent source of income. It wasn’t a pretty nor respectable way to make money, but you’d been making money nonetheless. However, you couldn’t find it in you to continue sacrificing your self respect to keep sleeping with Rafe Cameron. You’d also been telling the truth when you told him you didn’t want to be this messed up sad thing anymore.

You had long let go of the drugs and cut back on the drinking, and now you’d dropped Rafe too.

You’d had hope…but now it was dwindling.

No one would hire you. In fact, no one had even allowed you far enough to officially apply just to get a foot into an interview. It was always the same. You’d call ahead so you didn’t waste your time, they’d tell you they were looking for people, and then the moment you actually showed up and introduced yourself, it was an entirely different story. It didn’t make any sense to you, and the thought of ever proving Rafe right made you want to be sick.

“How bad is it?” JJ asked you a few days later, the both of you away and isolated in some corner of some guy’s party.

You looked down at the weak drink in your hand, contemplating on whether or not to be honest.

“It’s…manageable.”

A whopper of a lie.

“...then why don’t I believe you? Come on, Y/N, it’s me. I know your mom wasn’t the best when it came to funds, and when she died…” he scoffed. “You weren’t exactly in any shape to march down to anyone’s job and fight for work just to keep things afloat.”

You looked away at that, throat tight.

“I’m honestly shocked you’ve kept it up for this long.”

If only he knew…

You felt his gaze on you as you wondered just how truthful you should be, but you reminded yourself that this was JJ. If he knew the full extent of everything, he’d be likely to rob a bank. Nevermind the fact that it would just make him ask more questions, like how you’d even managed to keep things afloat all this time. You didn’t think you could lie to him, and you didn’t think you could handle being on the receiving end of whatever look JJ would undoubtedly give you if you told him you’d been sleeping with Rafe to pay your bills.

You didn’t know if it was fortunate or unfortunate that the subject of your thoughts walked through the doors to prevent this conversation from continuing. His presence shouldn’t have shocked you—the party was pretty mixed with people from all sides of the island after all—but it still gave you pause, and JJ noticed.

“This asshole,” you heard the blond murmur, rolling his eyes.

You were inclined to agree, and you shrunk in on yourself with your drink, unable to ignore the knowledge that Rafe was at the same party you were at. In the weeks you’d been free of him, you’d had time to really ponder on your dalliance, and while you’d long accepted your hand in your own life choices, it was now hard to ignore Rafe’s own opportunistic choices in the situation. Sure, yes, you fucked him for money…

…but what did it say about him that he was perfectly happy to enter an arrangement in which he kept you off of the streets so long as you opened your legs for him?

If he was a good guy he’d just…keep you off the streets.

Like JJ would if you ever told him the truth.

You’d just decided to stop hiding in the bathroom when you came face to face with the man himself, heart skipping a beat at his presence. He was leaning against the wall next to the door, and you had the sneaking suspicion he hadn’t been waiting for his turn.

“How’s the job search going?” was how he greeted you, and you hadn’t been able to keep the ire off of your face.

He softly laughed to himself at that, nodding.

“I figured you’d look a little something like that.”

“Fuck you,” you breathed, and Rafe frowned, tilting his head to the side.

“You were, remember? And then you stopped…and that’s how you found yourself back at square one,” he reminded you.

The music traveled from downstairs into the dimly lit hallway, and you looked away from him just as he heaved a tired sigh.

“Do I need to apologize for calling you and your friends dirty Pogues? Is that what this is about?” he lazily wondered.

You didn’t dignify that with a response, and when you lifted your gaze, Rafe was rolling his eyes. He fixed you with a look, reaching up to touch your hair with a tsk.

“Come on, Y/N. You need me…”

He leaned in.

“We both know it, and you’re never going to find a job in this town.”

“You don’t know that,” you fired back, slapping his hand away as you took a step away from him.

Almost instantaneously, Rafe’s entire expression morphed, and you swallowed at the shadow that passed over his features. His pink lips pressed together, and those blue eyes hardened in a way you’d never been on the receiving end of. You watched his nostrils flare.

“Oh, trust me, I know.”

The combination of his tone and his expression and his words gave you pause, and your brows pulled together as you stared at him. For a moment, the music in the house faded into the background as Kie’s words came to your mind. ‘It’s kind of messed up’, she’d said, and while you hadn’t given that much thought to the statement then…you certainly were now.

“What did you do?” you shakily asked the blond, skin growing cold.

Rafe didn’t answer right away, and when he did, it was a lie anyway.

“I don’t know what you mean,” was all he said, one brow raised.

You felt tears kiss your eyes, and you felt silly for not putting the pieces together earlier. You didn’t know how, but somehow, Rafe had a hand in your lack of employment. It seemed exactly like something he’d do, but the only thing you couldn’t understand was why. Why do it? Just to see you fail? Just to feel like he’d won?

“Look, this little rebellious act…it’s cute and amusing and all…” he shrugged off with a small smile. “...but it’s silly. We both know you’re just going to end up right back under me.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you hissed, moving past him.

“Yeah, and you knew that when you let me fuck you for drugs on some guy’s desk,” he threw at you, making you flinch and slow down. 

“I was going through things then, Rafe! I didn’t…” you huffed a sigh, turning to glower at him. “I didn’t care about things I most definitely should have. It’s different now.”

You threw your hands up.

“I’m different, now, and I don’t want to keep sacrificing my dignity and self respect just to keep a roof over my head. I don’t want to sleep with someone who views me and anyone like me as beneath him. It disgusts me, and unlike you, I have no interest in sleeping with people who I claim disgust me.”

You watched Rafe’s lip curl over his teeth.

“Yeah, that’s real respectable and noble and all, but I wonder how noble it’ll feel when you’re being evicted,” he spat at you, moving closer. “You’re not getting a job in this town, that I can promise you, so you keep this up for as long as you want to, but we both know how this ends.”

You leaned away from the finger in your face.

“I fucking own you,” he bit out, roughly grabbing your arm and yanking you close despite your resistance. “You named your price, and I paid it-.”

“For a service! Not a person,” you harshly whispered.

Rafe’s chuckle was cold as he stared you down, perfect teeth winking at you.

“You think you’re the only girl in Outer Banks willing to spread her legs for some money? You think I’d have to pay any of them half of what I paid you?” your stomach dropped at his words. “I’ve been a lot more generous than you realize.”

He roughly let you go, practically shoving you away from him, and you stumbled. He eyed you with an expression filled with promise, and when you turned away to finally find your friends and hopefully leave, you descended the stairs on unsteady legs.

You pushed against Rafe’s arm and chest as he held your chin in a tight grip. The vehicle you were next to hid you both from view, everyone on the beach none the wiser to what was happening in the parking lot. Your feet tripped over one another as he forced you back, trapping you between him and the metal contraption.

“Is that what you came up with? You think that pathetic Pogue is going to pay your bills? Give you a place to stay when that eviction notice is taped to your door?”

“Get…off…of me,” you snarled, finally shoving him away with difficulty.

Your breathing was heavy as you glared at the blond, lips trembling and heart racing at the downright evil glint in his blue eyes. You glanced over his shoulder for any way to get away from him, your frustration growing as he moved closer.

“Color me curious, but is it somehow more dignified to fuck someone like JJ instead of me?”

The jealousy dripping from his every word threw you for a loop, and you weren’t in the right headspace to even linger on how strange that was.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re not like that,” you drunkenly choked out. “I don’t know why you feel like I need to answer to you about my personal choices.”

It had only been thirty minutes ago that you were dancing with your friends. JJ—ever the flirt—had gotten a bit handsy, but it was nothing unusual. He could get handsy with a tree, and you’d merely smiled at the behavior, ignorant to the heated gaze that was hyper focused on you. You hadn’t even realized he’d been following you when you went to get a drink from Hayward’s truck.

“Butt out of my life already. You’ve already done enough,” you hissed at him, moving to get past him when he stopped you.

“We’re not done talking-.”

His words were interrupted by your hand, the sound of the slap echoing in your ears, and he’d just harshly pushed you against the car at your back when a familiar voice interrupted you both.

“Get off of her!”

Kie was suddenly there, helping you in shoving him away, and she looked at Rafe like he’d lost his mind—like she’d bore witness to an even sinister side to him. The blond didn’t seem all that fazed by her presence, barely sparing her a glance as his jaw clenched, his eyes on you. Clearly he felt that whatever he was contemplating wasn’t worth it, because without another word—but not without a final scoff—he made his way back to the party on the beach.

Kie wrapped her arms around you when you started to cry.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

What a loaded question, and you realized that the truth was just on the edge of your tongue. Unable to stop yourself, you threw your arms around her, collapsing under the weight of all your choices and what had led you to make them.

“Kie,” you started, voice trembling in her ear. “I have to tell you something.”

If she was horrified by the truth, she didn’t show it much. You could tell she was shocked as the words tumbled from your lips, her brown eyes stricken and face draining of color. You didn’t know what bothered her more—the drugs, the prostitution, or that both involved Rafe Cameron. As it turns out, it was none of those things.

“Why didn’t…why didn’t you let us help you?” she tearfully wondered, looking between your eyes. “We know how hard it’s been for you, and we wanted to be there for you, but you…you just disappeared. You barely came around, and John B. heard things, but he didn’t want to believe them.”

She whispered that last part, and your chest ached at the thought of your friends hearing about your out of character behavior but feeling powerless to stop it, accepting it as part of your grief.

“Rafe’s a demented asshole,” she finally spoke on the elephant in the room. “...and we won’t let him win, okay?”

There was conviction in Kie’s voice, the kind of conviction that made you want to believe her, and so you nodded at her words.

She helped you straighten, wiping your face and taking you back to the party, quietly promising you that she wouldn’t say anything about any of this to the guys. She stuck to you for the rest of the night, and a week later, she made good on her promise, her parents shaking your hand as they welcomed you to their staff.

“We could always use the extra hands,” Mrs. Carrera told you one Friday evening. “It gets crazy busy, especially on the weekends.”

All the noise in the restaurant only validated her statement.

You’d been working at The Wreck for a week, and while it was nothing like what Rafe had been paying you, it was a job. It was a means of earning your own money that didn’t involve lowering yourself to the likes of Rafe Cameron. It was grueling, sure, and you sometimes wondered if it was truly worth the money, but then you’d think of the alternative, and you’d decide that it was worth something and that’s what mattered.

You hadn’t been paying that much attention when you approached your last table for the night, looking up from the apron at your waist and stopping in your tracks.

“Hey, I didn’t know you worked here too,” Topper said, a fairly neutral greeting.

Topper may have been just as much of an asshole as his friends, but he at least played nice for the public. Your gaze traveled around the table, quickly looking away when it connected with a familiar blue.

“It’s…a fairly new gig,” you finally said, getting your notepad ready.

“Hey, if you’re going to use your friends for anything, might as well use them to become a productive member of society,” he told you, his tone now making you frown.

Opting to ignore the comment, you asked them what they wanted. You didn’t make eye contact with Rafe when he gave you his order, hand unsteady as you wrote it down. When you left them to go and get their drinks, you weren’t surprised to hear the scrape of a chair behind you. You were focused on rounding the counter, reaching for some clean glasses.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You didn’t forget your last encounter with the rich blond, tempted to ignore his presence altogether, but you were unfortunate enough to know how Rafe operated. Pausing in your movements, you turned to look at him, not surprised at all by the unhappy look on his face.

“I’m working, Rafe. What does it look like?”

You eyed the way his jaw ticked, finger gently tapping against the counter as he simply…stared you down. You glanced away, realizing that he didn’t have any power over you anymore. No, you weren’t completely out of the woods, but you had a secured source of income, and you’d happily struggle and scrape over sleeping with Rafe ever again.

“Go find some other struggling girl to take advantage of,” you finally said to him, grabbing their drinks and making your way to their table without a backwards glance.

Working at The Wreck was hard work, and no matter how many shifts you covered and how many tips you got, it was still long and hard work for half the money Rafe had ever paid you. You knew this when Kie came to you about the job, but on the other side of it, you were so beyond grateful for it. You were still stressed, of course, your monetary problems not going away anytime soon, but it was the normal stress of the average working twenty-something.

It wasn’t the kind of worry that came from a violent and abusive lover.

Rafe had been by the restaurant a few times since that day, and each time was more nerve-wracking than the last. Sometimes you served him, sometimes you didn’t, but it didn’t really matter because his gaze always found its way to you either way. On the days when Kie worked too, she’d ask you if you wanted her to do something about him, but you always declined.

After all, what reason would you have her give to her parents for kicking out the son of Ward Cameron who—to their knowledge—hadn’t done anything to warrant it?

Maybe you should’ve listened to Kie though. While you didn’t know if that would’ve changed things, you at least would have felt better about attempting to do something. Perhaps it was the mere sight of watching you work—watching you earn money independent of him—that made him snap, made him drop all pretenses completely. Barring him from the restaurant while you were there might’ve triggered some out of sight, out of mind response. It might’ve forced him to slowly get over whatever this thing was that he had about you.

It might have…

…and it also might not have done shit. Perhaps nothing would’ve changed, and you still would’ve found yourself tearfully staring at Kie’s mom as you took off your apron for the last time.

It was a normal Saturday when the texts and emails came through. The busiest day of the week, the most packed the restaurant ever would be for the next six days, and you’d been placing some fries down in front of some family’s kid when the noise in the restaurant…changed. You hadn’t been able to pinpoint how it changed, but if you did your best, it was like the chatters went from excitement about their food or whatever happened during the week to something else entirely.

One single thing that everyone was talking about.

You weren’t getting paid to mind your patrons’ business, but you started to think differently about that when the people at the table you were next to started to heavily eye you. The whole restaurant was loud with hushed chatter, so you couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the glances between the phones in their hands and you had you frowning.

You were slowly glancing around—realizing that that table wasn’t the only one—when you were yanked by your arm off the floor.

“What are you doing? What’s going on?” you worriedly wondered the moment Kie had you hidden from view.

The look on her face was hard to read, but her parted lips and wide eyes told you that she was horrified. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, seemingly unable to get the words out before slamming it shut, swallowing. The combination of her expression, her silence, and the lack of silence out there had a ball of dread forming deep in your gut.

“Kie,” you softly said. “What…what’s wrong?”

It took her a moment to speak.

“It’s Rafe,” she softly said.

Your confusion only grew, still not quite understanding. 

“What happened? Is he bothering you? Did…he do something to you?” you hesitantly asked, fearful that your former tormentor had turned his sights onto your friend.

“Not to me.”

That simple sentence started to put the pieces together, and you turned your face towards the front of the restaurant, recalling the stares and whispers and listening to the excited chatter. Your skin grew cold, goosebumps erupting all over you, and that dread was long gone. It was instead replaced by nausea.

“He sent everyone something…”

“No,” you heard yourself whisper.

“...a video.”

You turned to her with wide eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. Glancing down, you caught sight of her phone in her hand, and before Kie could stop you, you’d snatched it out of her grip. You moved out of her reach as she extended her arm, desperately trying to protect you, but it was too late.

You felt like you were weighed down by bricks as you stared at the two familiar faces on the screen.

It had to have been taken months ago, during one of the first few times you’d slept with him. You both were in Ward’s bedroom, and you remembered the day all too well, recalling the feel of his palm striking your skin and his voice in your ear before pulling your head down to his lip. Of course, it was that one and not one of the ones where he’d held you down and forced you to take his thrusts.

Your hand was empty, not even realizing when Kie had taken it back, simply staring into space at the memory of what was on that screen.

“Y/N, when my parents find out—and they’re going to find out—they…”

Her words died in the air at the sound of footsteps behind you, and you flinched when you heard a familiar voice call your name. Mrs. Carerra didn’t sound happy, and her expression fared no better when you turned around. You couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over as she gestured for you to follow her further into the back of the restaurant. You knew what was coming, what Kie was trying to prepare you for.

It was what Rafe wanted, after all…and he’d gotten it.

It was hours later when you were sitting with your back against your door, your phone turned off, overwhelmed by the influx of missed calls and messages from your friends. You’d only gotten a glimpse at them before finding your head bent inside of your toilet. Every single one of them bar Kie were shocked, their horror and confusion clear as day through their words. Only Pope had eventually sent a text that asked if you were okay.

…and the truth was that you weren’t.

You were so far from okay.

Rafe had won, he’d gotten exactly what he wanted, and even though Mrs. Carerra had expressed sympathy for your plight—more angry at the situation than anything else—she’d still had no choice but to let you go. Every other business in town valued the Cameron family way too much, and the only place that had been willing to hire you had been swayed by Rafe too in the worst manner possible.

It was well after midnight when your door shook from harsh knocks. You hadn’t moved in hours, just blankly staring at the wall, and you closed your eyes at the sound, positive it was one of your friends. You didn’t have the strength to face them, to answer questions and either break down or pretend you felt far better than you actually did.

You did, however, have the strength to face Rafe, your gaze lifting when his voice met your ears, demanding that you open the door.

His fist was still in the air when you swung it open, looking at him like he was something you’d find on the bottom of your shoes. He looked as put together as ever, completely unfazed by what he’d done. And why wouldn’t he be? This wouldn’t hurt his reputation and success in this town a bit. If nothing else, the video would have even more girls falling at his feet, but for some reason he didn’t seem to want that.

He preferred to force your hand instead.

“What is wrong with you?” you tearfully asked him, throat tight.

He didn’t respond right away, touching his tongue to his lip as his gaze roamed behind you.

“You gonna let me in?”

Your eyes almost popped out of your sockets, and he gave a haughty laugh.

“It’s not like I’ve left you with much of a choice, now, have I?”

He sounded so…proud of himself, and all you could do was cry as he brushed past you. He closed the door for you, noticing that you were struggling to move, and he kept his hand on the wood, his chest grazing your back as he pressed his face into your hair. You heard him deeply inhale, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I told you how this would end,” he whispered. “I gave you a chance to be smart about this.”

You went to move away from him, but his other hand shot out to grip your arm.

“You’re the one who made things way more difficult than they needed to be.” he continued. “We had a good thing going…and then you had to go and get sensitive and sentimental.”

When he forced you to face him, you kept your eyes on the collar of his shirt. The silence stretched as you refused to look at him, and you eventually heard Rafe heave a sigh. He let your arm go, and you watched him reach into his pocket, disappointed but not surprised by the roll of one hundred dollar bills he pulled out. When he straightened, he took your hand and placed the money in your palm, clasping your hands together.

A few more tears escaped when his fingers threaded through yours.

“Do you still feel like fighting this?” he quietly asked. “Let me know, right now, because I have all the time—and money—in the world.”

He slowly pulled you closer.

“You don’t.”

You shakily exhaled, reluctantly lifting your gaze to meet his own. You stared at one another for what felt like too long, and when he leaned in, taking your silence as defeat, you let him kiss you. It was a salty kiss, your own tears mixing in, but Rafe didn’t seem to mind, moving his lips against yours with a growing smile. His arm snaked its way around your waist, and the animalistic noise he let out told you just how excited he was to have you back under his thumb.

The couch seemed sufficient enough for him, bringing you both to it as he peeled your clothes off. You shuddered as the air hit your naked skin, thoughtlessly moving closer to his own body heat, and Rafe pressed a kiss to your shoulder as he laid you down. It felt like ages since you’d last slept with him, but you knew that wasn’t why you were trembling.

You were trembling because you finally realized you were sleeping with a monster. Before, Rafe had just been an opportunistic asshole to you. Rich, spoiled, selfish, the list went on, but now he was so much more than that. He was now someone who’d raped you on more than one occasion, and who had proved that he’d do anything to make you completely reliant on no one but him.

How else could he ensure that you’d never leave him? Never have any other choices but him? You’d eventually have to leave Outer Banks one day, you knew that to be true if you ever wanted a life independent of him, but that video could follow you around for the rest of your life, and very probably would.

When Rafe sheathed himself inside of you, stretching you out in a way that was regularly familiar to you, you gasped. The blond wasted no time in adopting a steady pace, fucking you hard against your couch, his fingers pressing into the arm of it. His grunts were soft in your ears, and despite your combined hatred and fear of him, you weren’t able to swallow down the whimpers that escaped your lips too.

You didn’t know what kind of hard on Rafe had for fucking someone he deemed so far beneath him, even more so to go through so much trouble of forcing you right back into his bed. You didn’t understand it one bit, and part of you never wanted to. You didn’t want to understand a thing that went on inside of his head, didn’t want to understand the thought process behind doing what he’d done to you.

His fingers scraped down your thigh before yanking you forward as he sat up some, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you. He was focused on the sight, lips parting as he panted from above you. He didn’t lean back down until your leg was over his shoulder, preventing you from moving much as he used you to chase his high, hips repeatedly curving against yours and forcing you to grip the couch.

“I missed this pussy so much,” he murmured, lips grazing the corner of your mouth as he spoke. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

You hadn’t before, but you did, now.

When his hand landed on your throat, it didn’t hurt, but his thumb applied just enough pressure to keep you alert.

“I’ll stop calling your friends dirty Pogues if that makes you feel better,” he whispered, a gentle kiss from his lips to yours. “...but you still belong to me.”

[twstowo]

Kissing Their Foreheads [Twst Third Years]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗SYNOPSIS: You kiss their foreheads.

♡︎ Includes: Third Years

[First Years]☆[Second years]☆[Here]☆[One final forehead kiss]☆[Extras]

⋆⋅☆Cater:

It took him a moment to realize that you had kissed his forehead, but when the realization fully processed inside his head, he hugged you. He was happy that you kissed him there since he understands the meaning behind kisses. He took a picture of both of you but, for once, didn’t share it. He would like to keep this moment for himself since he felt so content with you showing him affection.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Trey:

You can even catch him off guard while he is cooking, and his reaction will be the same. He gives you a sweet smile and caresses your hair. He is accustomed to kissing his younger siblings' foreheads and receiving some in return, so he sees the gesture as something completely normal.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Leona:

Leona gives you the biggest side eye ever. "What was that for, Herbivore?" Throw him in the pit! You need to explain that you just wanted to kiss his forehead, as if he didn’t know already. He will probably just go back to sleep. As you start to stand up, ready to leave him alone since he clearly didn’t seem that fazed with the kiss, he just pulls you down. Now you are stuck with a sleeping Leona. If you decide to rest and fall asleep, he gives you a forehead kiss.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Vil:

He raises his eyebrow at you, but then laughs it off. He takes hold of your hand and kisses it while staring at you the whole time, making you turn into an embarrassed mess. He just loves that look of yours, so he gets a little bolder and slowly kisses up your arm. Once he is done, he tells you your hair looks dishevelled and suggests you come with him so that he can fix it. Will he really just fix your hair? We will never know.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Rook:

Finds it so interesting that you just kissed his forehead. To be fair, he knows that you have been kissing everyone’s forehead, so he was just waiting painfully for his turn. Now that he finally got his kiss, he isn’t completely satisfied. Only one kiss? If you give in and give him another, he will go in for your defenceless neck and give it a kiss. You jump in your spot with the unexpected touch, and you can only watch as he laughs at your embarrassed reaction.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Idia:

He had been hiding from you since he overheard your conversation about kissing him with Ortho. Don't get him wrong, he had been dreaming of you kissing him for the longest time ever, but the thought of it actually happening scares him away. So when you found his hiding spot, his room, and just took hold of his blushing face, you gave him a soft forehead kiss. He won't move from his spot no matter what you do, so you just decide to leave him alone. At night, he will be giggling, twirling his hair, waving his legs in the air while thinking about the kiss you gave him.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Lilia:

Oh my, a forehead kiss? He is so glad for the sweet gesture. However, he is also aware that you have been kissing everyone’s foreheads, and he had been spending all of his time hearing a whining Malleus who had yet to receive one of those kisses from you. So he takes hold of you and just teleports you to Malleus, leaving the two of you alone.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Malleus:

Literally runs to you as soon as he sees you, with this not suspicious at all look on his face as he tries to start a normal conversation with you. But he keeps on throwing random comments about kisses and foreheads. He keeps showing his forehead to you as if trying to convey what he wants. When you tell him that you can't reach his forehead, his eyes widen as he had never thought of it before. So he leans down, and he finally gets his well-deserved kiss. You can see how happy he is, there is this silly smile plastered on his face, and he can’t get it to go away.

@k4sumis0u

[dunmeshistash]

Okay I think I'm ready to write the second part of this post about Milsiril

To make it easier for me I'll just divide this into her relationship with Kabru, Mithrun and Helki (her ex-canary prisoner teammate)

First about Kabru

This is an extra from the daydream hour 5. The caption says "Something like this might as well have happened" so its probably not canon but could be. I honestly think his reaction to Milsiril visiting and being overbearing says a lot about the type of relantionship they have. This is the fakest bitch in the whole of dungeon meshi, he never says what he trully thinks unless there's an advantage to doing so, he's a people pleaser that does and says anything to make people like/trust him. And yet he immediatly converts into "Mooooooom you're embarassing meeeeee" when he sees it's Milsiril.

This translation used "Mom" but as I understand the original he uses the more formal version so I think it would be closer to "Mother" but still he acknowleges her as his Mother, and he acts like her kid in every interaction we see between them.

I really don't understand where the idea that he learned to be fake from being "forced" to be her adoptive son comes from.

(Continuing under a cut)

The other interaction we see between them is the Kabru extra from the Adventurer's Bible

Kabru comes to her with a deep fear he clearly has had even before she adopted him, he trusted her with this fear and she did not disappoint him, she comforted him and then gave him the information he needed to believe what she was saying

I'd also like to point out in no moment she discouraged him from calling his his bio-mom "Mom". He also says she taught her children everything they asked

I doubt this would only be true for him, it also mirrors something she said in the manga

"You can go ahead and learn all you want about something else." I believe it when Kabru says she made every effort to answer her children's questions. I think this is also the way she expresses the love she has for them. Plus I love the thought bubble with Kabru mirroring what he learned from her. I also love this daydream hour, she sacrifices her own comfort to do something for Kabru.

Milsiril isn't a perfect mother tho, besides the fact she is overprotective she comes from a very different culture from her children. I like to call her Kabru's white mom cause I think that would be the real world equivalent. This extra is the one I think the most about showing this context perfectly

Kabru wants to share Utaya sweets but looks at his mom looking gloomy/rejected so he talks about fruitcake instead. This very rude for Milsiril to do since she's kinda trying to overwrite his actual cultural background, but I think its done more as a "I want you to like the things I like" rather than something nefarious, and once again Kabru doesn't hide at all his distaste for it, he does the bare minimum to please his mom since she's being dramatic but he doesn't lie to her, he shows how displeased he is about fruitcake, something he refuses to do when eating the harpy omelette that is way worse, because he must make a good impression for Laios. Kabru is honest with his overbearing white mom once again.

Now a little about Rin, from Kabru's context, this is her extra in the Adventurer's Bible

(look at Helki he's such a gremlin i love him) anyway, Rin has a trauma about elves, they really mistreated her so she hates them, but when they notice she isn't thriving they go to Milsiril for help (Helki specifically I'll talk more about him next). I think this indicates she really has a better understanding of short lived kids, her kids are thriving differently from the ones the other elves try to care for. I'd also like to remember she lives secluded from other elves so while Kabru probably had lots of interactions with elves during his life, most of it was probably spent with Milsiril and her other adoptive kids. She also asks Kabru if he would do this to help Rin, he isn't being forced or anything, I also think it's good that Milsiril knows she cant take in any more kids, this to me shows she's worried about the quality of life her kids have. That is all to say, Rin is the one with elf trauma, not Kabru, because Kabru had Milsiril to shelter him from them.

Helki

This will be short and sweet since there's barely anything about Helki, he's her prisioner companion from her time in the canaries, but he was pardoned after Utaya, it says so in the Canarie's Structure page in the new adventurer's guide but I cant really find it translated again... so here's google's machine translation (I remember it saying "Retired and pardoned as a reward after Utaya", something like that)

so officially he isn't a prisoner anymore, but I think he still works as a canary, even so he and Milsiril seem quite close, he is the one to go talk to her about Rin, He is there when she's training Kabru (both laughing at Kabru and then participating). I saw people theorizing she stays close to him because he is also someone who she can feel superior to, but I don't believe it at all, he's STILL in contact with her even after they have nothing to with each other, I think they really have a friendship, and there's no point where it seems like she feels like she's better than him or that he's less than her, people seem to interpret Milsiril and her relationships in the worst possible ways every time and I don't understand why.

This segways into Mithrun

I've also seen people assuming she only got close to Mithrun because now he needs her and has no power over her, once again with the theory that Milsiril surrounds herself with people she can feel superior to. But once again, Milsiril had a change of perspective about Mithrun after seeing his Dungeon

Rather than she feeling superior to him I think rather she realized he was just like her. (And I think she's friends with Helki for a similar reason, it's probably easier to see him as an equal than other nobles)

I've also seen this part used as proof of that. "He said that you've got suspicious ulterior motives and that I shouldn't listen to you" as if that's true, but this is past Mithrun, the one that didn't trust anyone and thought ill of all his teammates, ofc he doesn't believe someone would help him without an ulterior motive. This doesn't prove much about her real motivations.

Also before she showed up, Mithrun was being cared for by servants hired by his brother, he isn't someone helpless she has power over, he is still a member of an important Noble family that has a caring brother providing for him, he can do without Milsiril, he had done without her for 20 years before Utaya happened and she quit the Canaries.

This is all to say I think Milsiril is just a white(elf) adoptive mom doing her best, I don't see much of anything nefarious about her or her motivations, she is flawed as all the dunmeshi characters are, she isn't a perfect mom, she isn't an evil mom, she's just a person.

Elves in general also see short lived species as "children" so I imagine this makes her "You'll always be my baby" attitude way worse, she really treats pre-teen/teen Kabru like he's a toddler sometimes. But she also respected him enough to go all out in training him. I think they're a family with everything that entails.

PS: I didn't get much into Interracial adoption since this is something that happens irl too and I don't know much about all the issues that entails, but in the end, in this case, it seems like a net positive for the kids she adopts considering all we see about how she raised Kabru.

[seasons-of-death]

older!rafe x ditzy!reader who works for him

warning: nsfw MDNI! this was based on this request!! i hope you like it <3

you had driven rafe crazy ever since you started working at the country club he owned; the way you smelled of flowers and vanilla, how your little sundresses and miniskirts clung to your curves, and the smile on your face that was so bright it would put the damn sun to shame.

when he first saw you, you looked so out of balance, your tray full of mugs and plates, so filled to the brim that he was sure you would drop it any moment. and like any gentleman, he decided to help you. you'd thanked him profusely, and when he simply smirked at you, he could see the flush creeping up to your pretty cheeks.

ever since then, he was a man possessed.

but he always had a rule to never mess with someone who works for him. he knows to keep his personal life and professional life separate. but it was so hard, when he'd see you bend over, your cleavage unknowingly almost pushing out of the little top you had worn that day. usually, people had to wear a uniform, but the first day you hadn't worn it, and rafe had told your supervisor to never make you wear one. he couldn't count all the times that he had jerked off to the mental image of you lifting up one of your pretty floral dresses and letting him fuck you in the country club bathroom. he was a grown ass man, and you had him acting like a teenager.

one day, rafe called you into his office. you were confused, and a little frightened, worrying that maybe you'd done something wrong. sure, your supervisor said he didn't mind when you broke a few (15) cups the other week, but what if rafe disagreed with him? i mean, he was your boss's boss.

even though the door to his office was open, you knocked on it gently, and the man turned around to face you with a smile on his face. "come in. close the door."

suddenly, your throat felt dry as you did as the man told you to; he had a commanding presence, a person would probably have to be crazy to not do what he asked them to. "why'd you want to see me?" you asked, your voice shaky and squeaky as he took a few steps closer to you.

"i just wanted to say," rafe smiled as he stopped right in front of you, only inches between your chests, the man biting down on his lower lip in between sentences, "that you're one of the best employees we have."

huh. that was the last thing you expected.

your eyes widened, and your words basically stumbled out of your mouth, almost as clumsy as you had been on your first day. "thank... you?"

rafe chuckled, bringing one of his hands to your chin and lifting it up so you'd look him in the eye, "what, you don't believe me?" he grinned, and even though his hand dropped away from your chin, it felt like the spot he had touched was on fire.

"well, i mean... to be fair, i think i kind of suck... i mean, i broke a few dishes, and i accidentally gave the wrong order to three different people today and apparently someone's lobster was-"

your rambling was interrupted by the blonde man's laughter, causing you to look up at him with wide eyes, while he simply looked at you with affection, "you're adorable." he said, causing your cheeks to flush slightly as he pressed his hand on your cheek, clearly enjoying your little reactions. "god, i can't believe you blush from just that. it makes me all the more curious."

"curious? about what?"

"about..." one of his hands trailed up and down your arm, causing goosebumps to form on your skin there as shivers ran down your spine, his eyes looking down at you wolfishly as he leaned closer, his volume dropping to almost a whisper. "how pretty you'd look if you were riding me on my office chair. or the kind of noises you'd make when you come. do you whine? do you whimper? do you moan? you know, it drives me insane."

your face heated up even more, his thumb now at the edge of your lips, and you could feel your cotton panties starting to stick to your folds as you looked up at him, not realizing that the doe-eyed look on your face was causing his pants to feel tighter. the situation was just like out of the dreams you'd had of rafe, the ones you tried so hard to forget, the ones that were so inappropriate to have of your boss, or, boss's boss.

"oh, uh... thank– thank you." you say with a small smile, the man letting out a chuckle, while your cheeks were feeling like they would light on fire any moment now.

"keep up the good work, sweetheart." he said, his hands dropping away from you, taking step back. and as you walked out of his office with your heartbeat in your ears, you pinched the inside of your elbow just to make sure that hadn't been a dream.

[krysmcscience]

It’s finally done, guys – five whole pages of Narilamb AU comic AND MORE be upon you! (If you have trouble reading any of the text, view the full-size! These pages are huge!)

Yeesh, this took forever. <:)

There’s probably a ton of inconsistencies and anatomy/perspective wonkeries, but this was mostly just comic practice, so Oh Hekkin Well, Lol <:D

(Yes, I am aware the Gateway’s door isn’t present in the Afterlife, and the actual way in is just a pentagram portal. Yes, I put the door in there anyway because Artistic License, i.e. it felt more impactful for there to be a prison door of sorts to walk through to freedom, rather than just a bland boring portal on the ground. 😠)

anyway, i hate backgrounds so much lmao

Alternate ending and a buttload of bonus art under the cut, followed by goofy AU rambles and headcanon stuff:

I’m calling it the Revival AU. It’s not all that creative a title, and someone else has probably used it already, but I am too lazy to really care, LOL

Alternate ending page, which you will Definitely need to view the full-size for, Whoopsie Daisy:

The alternate ending was actually the first ending I finished things off with, because I had a brief badbrain moment where I forgot the emotional beat I initially wanted the comic to end on, and I tend to write comedy, anyway. I later remembered and drew out the proper ending, but I preserved and finished this one, too, because it still makes me giggle.

They had to go back for the followers off-screen in the AU’s real ending. And by ‘they’ I mean just the Lamb, because they weren’t about to ask three newly freed cats to go back into what used to be their prison. The Lamb DID spend some time watching Narinder and the bois enjoying the outdoors first, though:

In other news, here’s the Lamb and me making fun of my anatomy-drawing ‘skills’:

Meanwhile, if you’re wondering why the Lamb is just a-okay with how things went down vis a vis Their Murder, this bonus comic should answer at least some of your questions:

Ah, yes, also this is how they get engaged outside of the alternate ending. Forgot to mention that bit. XD (I already refuse to believe that Narinder is capable of flirting normally, so why would his initial marriage proposal be any better???)

Oh, and before any of them get a chance to actually head back to the cult grounds, there is one potential problem:

And by ‘problem’ I mean something Narinder intends to ignore for At Minimum a thousand years. Cuz he’s a petty bitch like that. :D

what do you mean i drew the lamb too tall compared to the background? clearly they’re standing on top of baal and aym lmao, why else would you think those two aren’t in this one??? (aym and baal got way too excited about finally being outside, you see, and their silly modes are nothing to sneeze at)

And, speaking of heading back to the cult grounds, I’m sure y’all would love to know how the Lamb’s followers felt about the brand new change in management:

It all went better than expected. <:D Tiny ramble now, feel free to skip down to the next comic.

Before you ask, no, the Lamb does not have any actual powers anymore, other than the immortality Narinder definitely grants them. The Red Crown just thinks it’s funny to suggest otherwise, and Narinder does nothing to discourage this. Also, the Lamb and Narinder aren’t actually married here yet, but, uh. Pretty safe to say that particular ritual directly follows the events of this comic. XD

Given how quickly he mellows out in canon, Narinder probably chills out a lot in this AU once he’s in charge of the cult, too, if only because 1.) He’s finally free, and 2.) He’s equally smitten with and distracted by the Lamb. He’s definitely in charge at least 95% of the time, though, because the Lamb never actually wanted to be a cult leader and, now that their time as a vessel is done, they just want to be a normal(ish) sheep who’s wholly devoted to their hot new divine husband.

Some followers do still have some valid concerns about these two being together, though, which I’m sure at least a few of you might share…

Unfortunately for any such concerns, the Lamb is a bonafide masochist in this AU. :D

They’re also 100% a sub, obviously

Anyone at all: Your relationship is problematic and potentially toxic

The Lamb: fuck yeah it is, it’s so hot~ OuO

Here’s just the last panel, made transparent for whatever nefarious purposes y’all might have for it:

Additional exchange Narinder and the Lamb have at some point, probably after the Lamb does a fatal whoopsie while out on a mission trip or in response to things getting a little too sadistic in the bedroom, ahaha:

Look, there is a very important distinction between life and death, and if you don’t understand that, then you’re probably not worthy of being the God of Death, anyway. (At least, according to Narinder, and ONLY Narinder.)

Last but not least, have these shittens:

~Such creative naming conventions I have utilized, lololol~ :D Anyway, there's a few deets on them in the rambles down below.

The rest is all ramble, so before I get to that, I’ll just say – likes and especially reblogs are very much appreciated!!! :D If you happen to really really REALLY like my stuff, meanwhile, I do have a link in my bio to my ko-fi page, where I’m accepting commissions and donations if you’re especially generous… ÓuÒ

Now, BE FREE IF YOU AIN’T DOWN FOR READING MY GOOFY RAMBLES

First ramble is re: Baal’s question of ‘Did it really work?’, since I didn’t feel like expanding on it in the comic proper, and it’s arguably pretty vague? He doesn’t ask because he doubts Narinder or his capabilities, exactly, but because neither Baal nor Aym have ever actually seen their god at full power before (he’s still technically not at full power here, either). It’s not expressly stated how soon the brothers were brought to Narinder after his imprisonment, but whether it was early on or after a length of time for Shamura to (somewhat) recover from his attack, he must have already been weakened, since I have no doubts that there was a huge battle that accompanied the Bishops working together to trap him. So, between that fight with all four of his siblings, sharing his power with a variety of vessels over time, and being chained immobile for a thousand years, he must have been severely weakened by the time he lent the Red Crown out to the Lamb, which would have only weakened him further.

I like to think this is how the Lamb is able to defeat him if they refuse to be sacrificed, despite how it took all four Bishops working together to subdue and chain Narinder in the first place.

All that aside, the three cats have been trapped in the Afterlife for so long that Baal also wanted verbal reassurance that they are all, indeed, actually able to leave it now – something that I headcanon isn’t possible without a significant amount of power (i.e. the Red Crown’s cooperation with its bearer/vessel).

(On a semi-related note, I don’t headcanon Aym and Baal as twins. I like sweetheart big bro Baal and snarky little goth bro Aym too much to have them be that close in age.)

Ah, teeny thing: If you noticed I switched up the art style for Narinder on the second page, that was intentional. It's sort of a visual indicator that there has been a Big Change for him - that being, how much power he has after sacrificing the Lamb. As for why I changed up his arms in the grass rollin' pic, I don't really subscribe to the notion that his arms are spooky bones because they're horrifically injured (beyond chain-chafing scars, that is), but rather just because he's the Bishop of Death, so he can change how normal-to-spooky they look at will. At some point I might doodle out how I imagine his appearance to range between least to most eldritch... 🤔

Next ramble, regarding Narinder’s feelings towards the Lamb...he was initially too focused on being freed from his imprisonment to form any real attachment to them. They were a tool for his use, first and foremost, but he did notice their intense devotion towards him. It was impossible not to notice, because the Lamb was always very happy to see him, even if it was because they died during a crusade (yet again). He wasn’t originally planning to revive them once he was freed, either, because he saw no real point to it – after all, they were already dead when they first met him, just as any other mortal would be when meeting him in the Afterlife, so death has very little real consequence in his eyes. But, once the chains were off, and it really sank in that he stood to lose the most devoted follower he’s ever had, he decided…why put their soul to rest for good or leave them stuck in the Afterlife when he could just as easily revive them again? And why not reward them for their hard work, anyway? Not only would it cost him nothing by comparison, but the future devotion that could come of it would surely make up for his (bare minimum) effort in reviving them.

He wasn’t expecting to get a full dose of that devotion and a smiling face so soon after killing them, though~ :3c (because the Lamb is a bonafide freak, and not-so-secretly into the fucked up power dynamics going on here, lol)

I should mention here that I am firmly of the belief that any non-god/vessel who crosses through the Gateway and into the Afterlife just straight up dies. So, Aym and Baal? Also straight up dead, from the second Shamura brought them through. Their souls were just never put to rest so that Narinder could have some company – if only according to Shamura. Narinder kept the two around mostly out of bewilderment, because honestly, who are these kittens, and what is Shamura’s game here, anyway??? They never even explained anything, they just tossed these kittens into the Afterlife and LEFT!!! At any rate, Aym and Baal being dead is how I explain why their souls apparently become lost in the void if they’re killed, along with the added complications required to revive the two because of it.

So, with those deets in mind, and given a bit of time, if Narinder hadn’t chosen to revive the Lamb, and also hadn’t chosen to put their soul to rest, they still would have woken up at some point, despite being as straight up dead as Aym and Baal. Who, don’t worry, were also properly revived while Narinder was waiting for the Lamb to wake up. Because I am also firmly of the belief that, first, the dead cannot leave the Afterlife without the use of a ritual/relic (and can't stay in the living world for long regardless), and second, dead followers’ devotion isn’t anywhere near as potent as that of the living, given how much more the living stand to lose.

Final ramble, regarding the Lamb’s feelings towards Narinder, and why they’re so devoted to him…

Well, you don’t spend most of your life on the run with your steadily-dwindling herd, trying to evade the ongoing genocide of your species, without becoming a little fucked up in the head. Maybe a lot fucked up in the head. Life is suffering, so might as well have fun with it, right? Maybe start finding death and pain to be kind of hilarious, even a little bit hot, once everyone you know and love is dead and gone, leaving you all alone? And maybe after that, there’s something comforting in how, despite the cold, cruel uncertainties of life, at least you can always count on the inevitability of death, patiently waiting for you until your very last breath? Who knows. Either way, as soon as the Lamb was killed, and they learned that the literal God of Death was offering them a second chance at life and vengeance via effective immortality, they were 100% ride-or-die-devoted all at once. Turns out death is kinder than life – go figure. (Of course, it helps that Narinder is 100% their type.)

They weren’t put off by Narinder’s thinly-veiled sadism or manipulations, either – they’re not too different in those regards, albeit opting for vastly different methods. It’s a very ‘two sides of the same coin’ sort of deal. In order to stay alive once they were made the last of their kind, the Lamb had no qualms with using others to their advantage, and that did not change once they were revived and expected to run a cult. They didn’t care for the position of authority, though – being a sheep and all, they’re much more of a follower than a leader, and thus greatly appreciated Narinder’s need for control. With how they had to keep on their toes for so long, the Lamb was also pretty good at reading people by the time they died, so they could recognize that a lot of Narinder’s posturing was just that – posturing. Dude’s 95% bluster and only 5% bite. He could obviously be vicious when he wanted or needed to (the Bishops' injuries were clear proof of that), but underneath his outer layer of cruelty was a generous layer of tsundere, and underneath all THAT was a soft squishy middle sibling velcro cat in desperate need of attention and affection.

(Which, for the record, he Did Not feel comfortable getting from Aym and Baal – Narinder still has no idea why the fuck Shamura sent them to him, beyond acting as keepers at best or trying to sabotage his attempts to escape at worst. Which, he thought HE sabotaged in turn, by guiding the kittens into being his devoted disciples instead. He thought he was very clever for it. ‘I outsmarted Shamura!’ he thought, despite that there was never anything there to outsmart. ‘What do you mean, Shamura sent your kittens to me for company?’ he demands of Forneus later. It may or may not lead him to pull Shamura out of Purgatory just so he can shake them and scream about how they should have Fucking Explained that!!!)

But, getting back on track as to why the Lamb was so willing to be sacrificed, I cannot stress this enough – if you pay even a minimal amount of attention to what he’s saying, Narinder is REALLY NOT SUBTLE about his intentions. ‘Death is of little consequence.’ ‘Followers are for you to use to your advantage.’ ‘Sacrifice a follower to absorb more power.’ So, yeah, the Lamb knew exactly what would be expected of them once the other Bishops were dead. They knew Narinder would expect them to die for him one last time. But, after all, death is of little consequence (not to mention hot), so when the time came, they wanted to see him freed, even if it meant oblivion for them in the end.

He’d given them a second life, and the ability to avenge their kin, and they felt indebted to him for that – so, while they were still pretty glum about the possibility that they might not get to see him free of his chains, nothing beyond their devotion and debt to him mattered. They never wanted all the drama and expectations that came with the Red Crown’s power, anyway, so, better for Narinder to have it back so that he could deal with it. What he did with the Lamb afterward would be up to him, and seeing as he was their god, they’d accept his decision gladly.

Were they in love with him by that point? Oh, obsessively so, but only in the devotional sense – romance was nowhere on their mind nor radar. That is, until he unexpectedly revived them again, told them he still needed them, and then offered down his hand to help them up.

The Lamb fell HARD for him in that moment. :3c

And now, a tiny shitten ramble. Lu and Li are twins, because sheep tend to have those a lot, and are conceived not long after the Lamb and Narinder’s marriage ceremony. Lu is the minutes older one, but Li is much more mature. I have put no further thought into these two, other than that they are utter menaces, birthed by the Lamb, cling hard to both their parents but especially Narinder (who spoils them rotten), and they are both genderfluid, using whichever pronouns/names they feel like at any given time. They are also both intersex, same as the Lamb, who was initially infertile up until Something Something Vague Magic, which I have also put no further thought into ¯\_(シ)_/¯

oh, and before anyone tries to suggest i headcanon this AU’s lamb as trending more female due to them giving birth or whatever, no, no, a thousand times no, they might have a vag, but they've also got a dick, and even if it's not as big as they'd like, they still know how to use it

Finally, the very tentative name for the Lamb in this AU is Yazdi, which is really just another name for the Baluchi breed of sheep XD (Not that the Lamb is this specific breed, I just didn’t like any of the other sheep-related names I found, ahaha...)

THAT’S ALL FOR NOW (collapses into an exhausted pile of goopy limbs)

[c0ffeejelly1]

When you call him your husband

Multiple character headcannons

Authors note: IM SORRYYYY I GOT LAZYYY but it’s only bc I’m writing a smutty fic rn which will be out when I decide for it to be out. So take these crumbs and be thankful.

Warnings: None. Just infatuated boys ig…

It was your typical Sunday movie night, a comforting routine before the reality of work awaited you both the next day.

You and your boyfriend had a tradition of keeping the night lively, so why not indulge in your favorite takeout?

“Hey babe? Where should we order from?” you called out from your cozy spot on the couch.

He peeked out from the cabinet, taking a moment to think before he replied,

“I’m easy; you know what I like.” He walked over, setting down two wine glasses.

“You wanna drink wine? It better not have alcohol, I’ve got work tomorrow y’know?”

He rolled his eyes playfully as he settled next to you.

“I’m not that childish…”

“Right, right. Anyway, quiet now; I’m ordering Chinese.”

He waited patiently, the sound of your phone ringing filling the space as he focused on pouring wine for both of you.

“Oh, and can I get the…”

His thoughts drifted until you gently poked him, signaling for his order. He quickly chimed in, and you continued,

“Ah..yeah, Sorry about that. My husband would like the special fried rice, no peas, please. That’s it, thank you! Bye!”

The type to not even realise it

You wore that familiar mischievous grin, the one that always hinted at your scheming, but when you glanced at your boyfriend, he seemed completely unfazed.

Instead, he was busy scrolling through movie options, casually asking for your thoughts.

..is he deaf or something?

You had even stressed the "husband" part, and this was his response?

You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel disappointed, and sort of offended!

With a scoff, you leaned back on the couch, arms wrapped around your legs.

This caused him to look at you.

“Baby, you alright?”

“Peachy.” you replied, though you were anything but.

How could he not have picked up on what you said? You had made it so clear, and now he was unintentionally ruining your plans.

You let out a heavy sigh, making sure he heard it.

“…what did I do now?”

“Oh nothing..”

The truth was, that was exactly why you felt upset—because he had done nothing. No reaction whatsoever.

But maybe it was just a misunderstanding; perhaps he hadn’t heard you.

Maybe you just needed to rephrase it.

“I heard this movie was good, you wanna watch it?”

“Sure, I’d love to, hubby.”

he reaches his arm out pulling you closer to him.

“Cool, I’ve actually had it on my mind for quite some time”

Okay this is just stupid.

There was NO way he hadn’t noticed your earlier comment.

It was painfully obvious, and it felt cringeworthy that he missed it. Maybe he was just playing dumb.

“Babe.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you repeat what I said like 2 seconds ago?”

“Um, okay..you said, ‘sure I’d love to, hubby’…” He blinked at you, clearly confused. “why do I need to repeat that?”

“Oh, just curious. Can you say the last word of that sentence?”

“Hubby?”

Suddenly, it clicked for him, and you could see the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“Oohh…”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Y-you called me your husband, huh?”

“Yep, I did.”

“That’s cute, but I’m still your boyfriend, baby.”

Why do you bother yourself with such a slow man?

characters: SERIZAWA, akashi, murasakibara, kuroko, giyuu, rengoku, nendou, kageyama, iwaizumi, akaashi, ushijima, geto, nanami, BEELZEBUB, belphegor, barbatos, TODOROKI, iida (anyone you like)

The type to stare at you confused

The frick you just call him?

He’s genuinely very confused and making it painfully obvious with the look he’s giving you.

“Who the hell you calling husband?”

Why did you just call him your husband?

He’s not your husband.

He’s not anyone’s husband!

He’s not even married!

At least, not yet… wait, are you actually thinking of proposing to him?! The very idea sends a jolt of panic through him.

He can’t let you take the lead on that!

Sure, ordering food might feel like a proposal in some bizarre universe, but if you were to pop the question instead of him, it would be a blow to his manhood , and he needs that manhood intact!

“I’m not your husband.” He insists.

“I didn’t say you were my husband”

Girl y’know damn well

“Y-yes you did! I just heard you say it!” His voice rises slightly, a hint of desperation creeping in as he tries to make sense of the situation.

“Maybe it was the wind..” you say with a casual shrug, lifting the wine glass from the table and taking a sip, as if the whole conversation is nothing more than a lighthearted joke.

He shoots you a glare, his brows furrowing in annoyance. “Stop messing with me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…” you reply, feigning innocence, but the playful smirk on your lips gives you away.

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean! Y-you, I—ugh.”

“Look, it was just a slip of the tongue,” you say, trying to diffuse the tension, but the glimmer of mischief in your eyes suggests you’re enjoying this far too much.

“A slip of the tongue? You just casually referred to me as your husband. That’s not something you just slip into conversation.”

“Maybe I was just testing the waters,” you tease, leaning back into the couch, your expression playful yet challenging.

“Woman, you better watch it before I test yours”

“What does that even mean?”

“You wanna find out?”

You find out in the end yippee.

characters: dimple, midorima, AOMINE, SANEMI, aren, saiki, tsukishima, UKAI, kuroo, suna, toji, megumi, lucifer, satan, solomon, BAKUGO (anyone you like)

The type to be REALLY giddy about it

Honestly, he could have made an effort to contain his excitement a bit. But like a puppy with its tail wagging in pure joy he’s just so incredibly thrilled to hear you refer to him as your husband.

The way his eyes light up at the sound of those words is almost infectious, and you can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“Baby..” he start, his voice a mix of eagerness and anticipation.

He’s completely lost in the moment, no longer focused on choosing a movie; that thought has faded to the background, overshadowed by the warmth of your connection.

“Yeah?”

“Say it again.”

His request is almost a whisper, but the intensity behind it is palpable.

He’s practically glowing, leaning in closer, invading your personal space with an eagerness; the way he looked at you, with those wide, adoring eyes that make your heart flutter.

“…say what again?" you tease, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

You know exactly what he wants, but you can’t resist the urge to draw it out a little longer.

“Y’know..come on, say it baby, please?”

His voice is laced with a mix of desperation and delight, and you can see the way his cheeks flush with excitement.

It’s as if the very idea of being called your husband fills him with a joy that he can hardly contain.

You take a moment, letting the silence stretch between you, enjoying the way he leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your skin.

Eventually, you relent, your heart swelling with affection.

“You mean me calling you my husband?”

“God, I love the sound of that,” he breathes, his smile widening as he pulls you into a tight embrace burning his face in between your neck inhaling your scent.

“You should call me that all the time baby..”

“Y’know… I could if we got married.”

Stop putting ideas in this man’s head.

characters: kise, RENGOKU (YES TWICE.), tengen, TORITSUKA, eren, connie, jean, reiner, nishinoya, oikawa, BOKUTO, tendou, atsumu, gojo, asmodeus, DIAVOLO, ITTO (anyone you like)

The type to break. Like he’s not moving anymore..

Pause.

What did you just say?

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken implications.

“Huh?”

His mind is practically overloading at the moment, trying to process what exactly you had uttered from your mouth.

It’s as if time has momentarily frozen, and he’s caught in a loop, replaying your statement over and over.

Is his brain playing tricks on him? Surely, he heard you right, didn’t he?

The weight of the moment presses down on him, and he can’t shake the feeling that something monumental has just been said.

Is it just him, or is the temperature rising in this room?

The air feels thick, almost suffocating, and beads of sweat begin to form on his brow.

Is he coming down with something?

Why is he feeling so flushed, his cheeks burning as if he’s just sprinted a mile?

“You…” he stammers, searching for the right words, but they elude him.

“Babe?”

Silence hangs in the air, a palpable tension that seems to stretch on indefinitely.

“…Baby?”

Still, no answer. The worry in your voice deepens, in response to his silence.

“Dude, are you alright?” You inquire again, giving him a gentle shake, hoping to break through the fog that seems to envelop him.

He doesn’t even glance your way, lost in his own thoughts, wrapped up in a world of his own.

You can’t help but feel a twinge of concern—did calling him your husband really trigger all of this?

“Tomorrow.”

“The hell you talking about?”

“We’re getting getting married tomorrow.”

“..what.”

He’s lost all sense of time because of you.

characters: reigen, kagami, kaidou, armin, REINER (YESS AGAIN.), hinata, osamu, CHOSO, yuji, MAMMON, leviathan, izuku, denki, tamaki, childe (anyone you like)

[reiderwriter]

Can I request a Spencer babying the reader BAU and everyone on the team is so done with it but reader is confused and oblivious...?

A/N: Thank you for your request! I've been very much feeling post-Prison/ later seasons Spencer recently, so I hope you enjoy this fic!

Warnings: mostly fluff, implied age-gap, slight mentor/mentee dynamic.

Your first year in the BAU would've been tough had it not been for Doctor Spencer Reid.

It was tough still, but without him, you don't think you'd have been able to handle much of it. He'd been your mentor through each case, taking you under his wing when he wasn't on academic leave, teaching his criminology courses at the FBI Academy.

Those weeks were the hardest, and you found yourself moping about in the office, texting him once or twice a trip for advice.

On one particularly hard case, he'd come back into the office after you'd text. Not to consult on the case, but just to drop you off a chamomile tea and a pastry to brighten your day that little bit.

When he was back, your days were great. He knew so much, and you learnt so much from him so quickly, eagerly consuming his every word. You were so eager to please him that you often forgot others around the two of you.

“Spencer, if you're done fawning after Y/N we have a case to work on,” Emily gently chastised the man as he pulled out your chair for you, ready to sit down to hear the details of your next crime.

“Oh, Emily, thank you, but it's okay. Doctor Reid was just being considerate, I'm sure he'd have done it for anyone.” The shared glances around the room were filled with glib secrecy, but no-one commented further, leaving you slightly baffled.

Those shared looks between the other members of your team had become more common as of late, with each one more worrisome than the next. There was something unsettling about being the only one out of the loop, and as the newest member of the team, and the youngest, it often felt disheartening.

“Y/N, don't worry. Being the youngest member of any team is tough, but you're smart and you're holding your own.” With a pat to your head he walked away, lifting the weight off your shoulders slightly but not fully. You needed to get to the bottom of the BAU's non-verbal communications, and you needed answers.

Your first technique was interrogation. Surely one of them would break and tell you if you laid out your thoughts and feelings clearly.

Surely not, you found, as each member casually and softly blew you off.

“Y/N, you just need to think carefully about how certain members of the team act towards you. How familiar they are. How overly familiar they are.” Tara had at least told you that much, bit it had left you just as confused as the radio silence from the others.

“Everyone has behaved very professionally with me. You've all been very welcoming up to this point, which I appreciate greatly.”

“I wouldn't count gifting you flowers for your first successful case as the most professional act, Y/N,” she said as she sipped her coffee. “But I suppose that is just up to interpretation.

Doctor Reid had sent you flowers after you finished your first case. But there had been extenuating circumstances in that case. You'd both worked on the geographical profile on that case, and together had figured out the species of flower the unsub was using was only cultivated on one local flower orchard. It had cracked the case open and you'd found your unsub hours later.

So the flowers were an extension of that small joint success. That was all.

Your second attempt at figuring out what was going on was observation.

Partially taking Tara’s advice, you tried your best to track the moments when each of the weary looks would come your way.

Overwhelmingly, they seemed to be directed towards Doctor Reid whenever the two of you interacted.

You had to gently inform him of this, before it interrupted both of your abilities to work.

“Doctor Reid, do you know why Emily and Rossi are both currently watching us from between the blinds in their offices?” You whispered to the man, leaning in close to his ear. You were quite sure he didn't know, but a question seemed as good a way as any to broach the topic.

“I do, yes. It's best if you ignore them.”

His nonchalance in the matter shocked you, so sure you were that this would be news to him. You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.

“Why are they staring at us?” You finally managed to force the words out in a small squeak, forcing his eyes back to yours.

“Don't worry about it for now, I'll handle it.” He smiled down as you, and the bright gesture washed away more of the tension you'd been feeling in the office. You smiled back at him as he rose from his desk chair and carried himself to the stairs. You giggled when he winked down at you, just as you noticed Emily frantically hurrying away from her office window as Spencer knocked on her door.

As much as he told you to not worry about it all though, you really couldn't help yourself. You found yourself growing more clumsy under the watchful eyes of your entire team, galling more times than you'd care to admit into Doctor Reid's arms. He always caught you, though, and you were thankful you never did yourself serious injury.

You finally got the answers you'd craved out on a case about a month into your struggles.

There was something slightly unsettling about the way the female Sheriff was paying attention to Doctor Reid, and it made you uncomfortable. Your mouth ran dry when she touched his arm, but a small part of you warmed up again when he shrugged her off. Until, at least, you heard him explain why.

“I'm sorry, I'm a germophobe, so I'd really prefer you not touch me.” His voice was calm and steady; it really didn't seem like he was lying.

“You're not pulling my leg? I'm sorry if I came on too strong, but-”

“Why would I pull your leg, I said I don't like physical touch?”

“Well, there was that young girl earlier, Y/N was it? You had your hand on her back as you walked in, so I didn't think…”

The woman had made a good point, and you crept closer to the edge of the door to hear Doctor Reid - Spencer's response.

“Sheriff, if we're done here, do you think I could get back to my job?” You were almost disappointed in the change of topic, but you weren't all that sad to see the Sheriff remove herself from the room. Slipping in behind her you decided to test the new theory that had slipped into your mind in the last minutes.

You called out to him to grab his attention as you walked into the room but before he had the chance to turn and greet you, you threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your body down against his, enveloping him in a back hug.

It was quite possibly the most familiar position you'd been in with him, but really it wasn't all that different from your usual proximity.

Unlike when the Sheriff casually brushed against him, he didn't stiffen, didn't pull away, but instead melted into your touch, looking up at you with a large grin.

You stood shocked for a minute before grinning back.

“Spencer, I think I know why everyone has been watching us for the last few weeks.” You said, causing his eyes to panic slightly as he acknowledged your words.

“The, uh, the Sheriff was just in here talking about a development either some of the DNA test results-” He desperately tried to change the subject, but you were locked in now, spinning his chair around to face you more as you came eye-to-eye with him.

“I know why the Sheriff was in here, Spencer, I heard it all.”

“It's not what you think,” you paused for a moment as your brow furrowed, trying to figure out if you'd somehow caught the wrong end of the stick.

“So our coworkers haven't been waiting for you to ask me out, having noticed large changes in your body language and attitude around me?”

“It's….exactly as you think.” His face was flushed with pink and your heart skipped a beat at the man in front of you. But you still had some questions.

“And you knew, but you didn't say anything to me despite the fact that I bought it up multiple times?”

“I'm…I'm not good with words," he frowned

“Are you good with dates?”

“Excuse me?”

“You're going to take me on a date when we get back to Quantico. After giving it some thought, Doctor Reid, it seems I've become quite enamoured of you.” You dropped into his lap then, sitting there like a cat pleased to take up residence on its owners legs. He stuttered for a few seconds but then found his voice again, face lighting up.

“Spencer. Please, Y/N, call me Spencer.”

[raynewolferune]

Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt1

Update 5/16/2024: Congrats guys, gals, and others! You have planted the seeds and they have grown. Today I wrote another 46 pages on this story (the first section was only 9 pages ya'll). I'm working on splitting it up into smaller sections so I can post it now because tumblr said no to doing it as one piece. I'll be using the tag #Meta Jazz Arkham Intern Therapist if you want to follow it.

Original Note: I'm going to go ahead and apologize for how OOC Bane is in this. It originally was Joker but I couldn't see Jazz tolerating his proximity for more than a single millisecond so Bane it is.

~*~*~

The hardest thing about being a Meta in Gotham was responding appropriately during a Rouge's attack, Jazz mused to herself. Or perhaps that was just the hardest part about being a Meta intern at Arkham while studying psychology at Gotham University. Or maybe it was just her, she considered watching the guards and Dr. Rylie whom she'd been shadowing for the past 2 weeks wide eyed, pale, and shaking as theybstared at Bane behind her. It must just be her, Jazz decided, newbie guard Kyle Jennings was definitely a Meta after all. She should probably give him some tips on hiding his enhanced strength considering how often he broke mugs, door handles, and other delicate items used in daily life.

"Weapons down or I'll snap her skinny little neck." Bane growled out, shaking her slightly for emphasis. She very much doubted that. Liminials were built different than the standard Meta, stronger, faster, better endurance, and senses even if they could mostly appear to be standard humans on the outside.  As such, their bones and muscles were much were much denser than regular humans or even Meta humans. Technically, she could be considered "invulnerable" much like the Kryptonians are.

"Back up! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie  shouted at the guards. "She's my student! Let him through!" His voice was higher pitched than she could recall hearing it before.

Ah. That was panic.

Jazz sighed involuntarily and glanced over her shoulder at Bane. Why the man had grabbed the only person close to his own height nearby was a mystery to her - no, nevermind, he clearly meant to use her as a shield - but it made looking him in the eye more difficult than necessary.

"Mr. Bane, remove your hands from my person, please." Jazz stated calmly, channeling what Danny called her inner mom as she spoke. "I will give you to one to comply."

Bane looked stunned for a moment then laughed.

"Five."

The laughing continued. Jazz could sense a stir of uncertainty through her colleagues as they looked on.

"Four."

"Did you really think that would work?" Bane snorted out, arms tensing more around her.

"Three." She continued, indifferent to his words from her experiences raising her brother. Once the count down starts you mustn't respond to anything the kids do or say until they comply or the count is done.

"What cab you even do if I don't?" Bane asked darkly breathing directly in her ear. She kept her face expressionless despite the urge to express disgust.

"Two."

"Jasmine..."  Kyle whispered halfway across the hall from her looking on with a pained and horrified expression. Gun tilting towards the floor. Sloppy.

"One." She finished and Bane gave a derisive snort.

Then she was moving. Hauling the enormous man up and over her shoulder using the arm that had been wrapped around her neck. Bane hit the cold tile hard enough that the tiles, subfloor, structural supports, and part of the concrete foundation buckled beneath him. His shoulder popped out of joint, his wrist cracked - a hairline fracture by the sound of it -  and his breath was punched out of him from the force of impact. She released his arm as soon as his was embedded in the tiles and moved forward. Kneeling over him, support most of her weight on her left foot resting on the broken ground, her right knees pressed firmly across his throat without supporting any of her weight. The position put more strain on her muscles than she would've liked but at least Bane couldn't risk fighting back without crushing his own neck in the process. He could hardly throw her while flat on his back with a mangled arm.

"Now," Jazz began, looking directly into the behemoth's pained eyes. "Do you know what you've done wrong?" She asked like she would have done with Danny as a child.

"Yes, Ma'am." Bane choked out. Jazz heard movement and murmuring behind her. She didn't turn to look.

"What did you do wrong?" She asked. It was important to make sure children correctly understood why they were in trouble after all. There was a long pause as Bane appeared to cast around for the exact right answer as if he feared getting it wrong. A bad habit Danny still uses as well, Jazz thought to herself.

"I tried to hold you hostage," He choked out in a rush, words tumbling over one another as he tried to get them all out. "I scared you coworkers and it was very disrespectful."

So he'd gone for the grab-bag response. It wasn't wrong per sey but it did indicate a past history of abuse. The type of answer given by someone who expected to be harmed or ignored if they gave the "wrong" answer. Danny tended to use that method also and their parents had always been negligent at best.

"And are you going to do it again?" She asked giving him a Look as she did. Bane's eyes widened and he tried to frantically shake his head as much as possible with the pressure on his neck.

"No, Ma'am." He promised fervently.

"Alright then," Jazz said giving him a warm smile. She gestured vaguely towards the guards without turning to look at them. "Kyle here is going to take you to see the nurse and then back to your room then. I'm sure you'll behave for him?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll behave." Bane said. Jazz stood slowly asking sure not to put any additional pressure on his neck as she did. Kyle came and stood next to her as the giant of a man slowly pulled himself to his feet then led him away with 5 other guards.

Jazz heaved a sigh. Well, time to find out whether or not she could play all that off as normal, non-Meta human behavior.

[shizunitis]

Ghostfire Shen Yuan loyally following the lonely, undying, forgotten Luo Binghe from the original outline.

They never even met.

Shen Yuan had died long before Luo Binghe’s story was set to start. Abandoned by his System, he was left wandering the realms, searching for anything to latch onto, anything to stave off the darkness encroaching on his consciousness whenever he stopped. He keeps himself entertained with little jokes and references that will never reach anyone. At least back home, there were other people on the opposite side of his screen reacting, seeing. Paying attention.

He never would have thought he’d miss the times he was perceived by others. He’d give anything, though. Anything.

He stumbles upon the protagonist as he’s ascending the stairs of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect for the first time. Dressed in rags and heaving with the effort, Luo Binghe is exactly as Shen Yuan had pictured: a little bun, soft and kind and so very brave.

The excitement wears off soon enough. When the tea ceremony is held, Shen Yuan watches, hopelessly trying to stop the cup from hitting Binghe’s head. He lunges at Shen Jiu; let him be identified and exorcised, at least he would have done something with himself, however useless. It doesn’t work. Of course not—nothing can come between Luo Binghe and his fate.

Shen Yuan thinks about leaving. Many times. But every time he considers the possibility of going back to wandering the world, or just passing on… Well. There’s still a lot to see, isn’t there? It will get better. It will.

Only, it doesn’t. Not really.

There’s no harem; there’s no warm comfort offered to Luo Binghe by a sympathetic beauty, no wedding celebrations, no moments of gentle companionship, however brief, however superficial. There’s no camaraderie with the demons underlings, his generals, his allies; it’s all casual cruelty and dismissals, before it’s violence and subjugation.

There’s no joy. There’s no hope. There’s no ‘better’.

Something is wrong, that’s clear. Something is wrong, and Shen Yuan has no one to blame.

This is clearly not the Proud Immortal Demon Way he knows.

Centuries later, when Luo Binghe begs for the heavens to allow him to die, Shen Yuan hears. When Luo Binghe rages against the passage of time, alone in the wreckage of his palace, left behind by everyone he’d ever known, Shen Yuan accompanies him. When Luo Binghe lies down in the Holy Mausoleum and refuses to get up, Shen Yuan waits until he opens his eyes again and leaves the palace.

They end up in a hidden realm so filled with Yin Energy that Shen Yuan can channel it to manipulate his form into that of his former body. It’s not detectable by the living, but it’s there. He feels stronger, too. He can walk, float, fly, interact with what few other ghosts they encounter.

Still, Luo Binghe cannot see him.

Luo Binghe doesn’t talk much. Well, that makes sense, he was never in the habit of talking to himself, but still. It’s lonely.

They end up in a town where a diviner takes one look at Luo Binghe and offers him a free reading. Shen Yuan can’t enter her tent, so he waits outside.

She tells Luo Binghe of the little hanger-on he’s got. A powerful one, too, though he’s still getting used to his powers. He’s been here for a long time, she says. Since he was a child. He comes from far away—farther than even the most distant star.

Luo Binghe begins talking to him. Shen Yuan isn’t sure why, but he’s not complaining!

Luo Binghe also begins meditating again, trying to soothe the damage done by Xin Mo over the centuries. For every meal, he places a few fruits across from him on a plate he’d made himself, which he eats only after finishing his own dish. He makes space by his side whenever he walks on a narrow road. He stops at every landmark and tells stories about them, always starting the same way.

“Do you remember when…” becomes Shen Yuan’s favourite phrase.

One night, Luo Binghe sighs and looks across the table. Shen Yuan places himself so that he’s in Luo Binghe’s focus.

“What is it, Binghe?”

Luo Binghe doesn’t answer him, of course. Still, it feels like a conversation, when he says:

“I wish I knew your name.”

Shen Yuan frets. He’s been trying to manipulate the physical world, but he never got the hang of it. He’d tried drawing in sand, with water, just pushing things off shelves. And yet, nothing.

“I’m sorry, I wish—” he tries, but Luo Binghe is already talking again.

“I wonder if we ever crossed paths when you were alive.” He’s expressed this thought more than once. Shen Yuan never likes to think about how they’ve missed each other, how they’d been set up for failure from the start. “I wonder if we would have been friends.”

Shen Yuan scoffs. Of course not. Him and the protagonist? No way.

But—those cold star eyes, blindly searching for him, trying to land on him… They make him want to say, I would have liked that.

He reaches a hand out to touch Luo Binghe’s forhead. He’s taken to doing it whenever Luo Binghe broods, or makes a silly joke Shen Yuan wishes he didn’t find funny. It’s soothing.

He wishes Binghe could feel it.

When his finger touches the demon mark, it blazes. Luo Binghe gasps, that heavy gaze settling on Shen Yuan’s face.

Shen Yuan startles, and jumps away.

“No! Wait!”

Shen Yuan hesitates. Luo Binghe is looking around himself, eyes begging for even a wisp of Shen Yuan’s shadow.

He can’t deny Luo Binghe this.

He can’t deny himself this.

He reaches out again. This time, he cups Luo Binghe’s cheeks. When those eyes clear of panic and widen in awe, he whispers, softly, “Shen Yuan. My name is Shen Yuan.”

Luo Binghe looks like he’s been handed a treasure so precious he’s afraid to touch it. He hesitates, raising his hands in careful starts and stops, before taking Shen Yuan’s face in them, gently caressing the soft, cold skin of his face. His eyes dance with the haste he takes in memorising Shen Yuan’s features.

Then, he smiles. Helpless and weak and so, so precious. Shen Yuan has not seen hope so bright in Luo Binghe’s face since that fateful day on Cang Qiong Mountain.

“Hello, Shen Yuan.”

[smoft-demons]

MC needs some extra love

_______

You’re having an off day. Your demons have asked to make sure nothing’s actually wrong, just to be safe, but they’ve seen you like this a few times before. They understand. You’re just feeling down for no particular reason. Just sad and low energy. Extra tired.

Nothing happened, no one hurt you, nothing’s wrong… you just woke up in a low mood. Because it simply be like that sometimes. You just… need some extra affection today. No reason. It’s okay, they’re not judging. They’ll do what they can to cheer you up a little—they love you, you know. They want to see you smile at least once today.

_______

Lucifer:

When Lucifer notices your mood, he softens towards you a lot. He asks if anything is wrong first of course—they all do—but once he learns that there’s nothing he needs to correct and no one he needs to punish on your behalf, he just softens. He treats you more gently than usual.

He expects you’ll get fed up entertaining all his brothers, with their endless chaotic energy. So he invites you to hide out with him in his office. You are invited to just sit with him and read, or put on some music, or play a game on your DDD, or just rest… or whatever it is that will help.

He’ll even let you curl up in his lap and cuddle with him if that’s what you want. That cheers him up too.

He quietly redistributes the most taxing of your chores for today amongst the seven of them, to give you time to recharge.

You’ll find Levi and Beel doing the dishes for you when it’s your turn, or if you’re supposed to make dinner you’ll find that Mammon and Asmo have already ordered everyone takeout, and they’re already in the middle of setting it all out on the table. You won’t have to do a thing! If you were supposed to clean up a common space in the house, it’ll already be done by some of your assorted pact partners. You might even find sticky notes placed amongst your homework in Lucifer’s, Satan’s, and Belphie’s handwriting, suggesting edits and books titles to check for better information, and pointing out any parts in your work that are particularly well done.

When you check your DDD later, you see that Lucifer had instructed his brothers to take on what they can from you to make your life easier today. He was not planning on letting you know that, clearly—because he sent that in the brothers group chat. You only know because Karasu’s spy feature showed you.

His support is shown in all these soft, quiet details. Peaceful moments. Simple, but unmistakable reminders of how loved you are. It’s okay if you don’t smile today, even though he would like you too. He will verbally remind you that loves you anyway.

_______

Mammon:

Mammon’s first instinct, of course, is retail therapy. He offers to take you shopping. He’ll even pay for your stuff! He doesn’t mind if it makes you happy!

You appreciate that very much—and maybe you’d be happy to take him up on that if you were sad for a reason, but… you just have no spare energy. Just thinking about going out exhausts you more. You’d have to deal with looking at things! And forming opinions, and deciding on stuff to buy! There’s crowds and cashiers and bright lights and just… stuff outside! You can’t, you just can’t. You have no energy and you can’t.

The first time Mammon sees you like this, he’s confused. You don’t wanna go out? You don’t want any new stuff?? He sure hasn’t felt like that before!

He puts effort into figuring out what will actually help cheer you up instead. He’s considerate that way.

He tries taking you for a long drive. He tries taking tasks off your to-do list. He tries trailing after you all day to keep you company, holding your hand, chattering all day so you can’t hear your thoughts, staying quiet so you don’t get overstimulated. He cycles through every possible approach over the months, on every random day you happen to wake up like this.

It’s all greatly appreciated—and hey, some of his ideas work better than the rest! You feel loved and cared for regardless. It’s impossible to miss how much he adores you.

Eventually though, he strikes gold!

That particular day, he had been telling you a stupid joke every time he ran into you, in an attempt to make you smile. He gets a weak grin for his troubles just about halfway through the day. He beams at you triumphantly at that, impulsively scooping you up for a hug and repeatedly kissing the top of your head, and—aha! THERE’S the smile he was looking for!

From that point on, he knows what to do!

The next time you wake up in this mood, he takes the first opportunity to give you a playfully over the top show of affection. Over the course of the day, he keeps doing it!

He runs into you in the hallway between classes, he (gently) aggressively ruffles your hair as he passes you. He finds you aimlessly walking through the house, you immediately get snatched into his arms for a nice long squeeze. You sit with him as he’s scrolling through devilgram, he sets it aside for a moment to squish your cheeks between his hands and cover your forehead and nose with loud, playful kisses. You go up to him and request attention? You get kiss attacked, and he won’t let up until you crack a smile!

Your brain hurts, he says, echoing your very first explanation. It’s okay though, he says. He’ll kiss it better, he says.

He is MORE than happy to completely discard the tsundere façade to lean into this… over-the-top affectionate silliness, as long as it continues to make you laugh and smile like that.

He won’t admit it, but… this is more honest. This is much closer to who he is at heart than his usual behaviour is. Try as he might, he can’t hide how much he cares to save his life.

The realest aspect of Mammon is not the dumbass, not the money-grubber, not the uncaring cool guy that he pretends to be… no, it’s the goofy dork who loves you SO much that he’d go to any amount of effort to cheer you up.

He’s damn good at it too! HE was put in charge of your well-being for a reason! He’s the best big brother/guardian/friend/pact partner ever, and you’re his to take care of. He’s not letting HIS human go without smiling once for a whole day! You’re the sole member of his family he can openly dote on, and dammit, he will!

_______

Levi:

Levi’s go-to is, of course, distracting you with media. He tries games first, but if you’re too low-energy for that, he gets it. He tries anime, movies, shows, videos, manga, whatever you seem to respond best to.

You’ll notice a theme of letting others help, confiding in friends, opening up to people. There are repeated instances of characters asking for support from the rest of the cast and then being helped and taken care of. Lots of power of friendship stories, lots of hurt/comfort and “it’s rotten work” “not to me, not if it’s you” and team-as-family.

Maybe, just maaaybe, he’s trying to tell you something!

He relaxes when you explain that you just woke up like this, sometimes this just happens and it’s no one’s fault, there’s no problem, he doesn’t have to worry about you. He gets that! Sometimes he wakes up like that too. It does happen!

But… you’re his player two! He wants to worry about you!

So he takes care of you the way he wishes someone would take care of him when he gets like that. Gives you the extra love he knows first-hand that you need right now. He lets you choose the entertainment, he holds your hand, and mirrors what you do to self-soothe.

If you wanna lie on the floor and stare at his jellyfish decorations, he’s right next to you. If you wanna tell Henry how you’re feeling, he’s right there with you doing the same so you don’t have to feel self-conscious. If you’re stimming, he will too. That one makes him happy as well! If you wanna burrow into a pile of blankets and plushies like a hognose snake, he totally gets it and will also do that. He does that anyway sometimes, just because it’s comfy.

There’s not a hint of judgement from Levi. Ever. He gets it.

When you guys HAVE to leave his room, like for meals and such, he lends you his headphones. So you don’t get overstimulated from all the noise his brothers make. He never goes far from you, either. He always stays close enough that you can reach for him if you want to.

After dinner, when you’re tired and done with trying to act normal (not that even one of your demons is fooled), Levi brings you back to his room. He asks if you have any requests, anything you want to do, anything he can do to help you. If you know what you need, he’ll just do it. If you don’t, he’ll offer comfort in some form that makes sense to him. He understands that all you really need is some extra love when you’re like this, so he’s not at a loss. He gets it, he feels the same way sometimes, he can do that!

You end up curled up in his lap, hiding your face in his shoulder as he watches an anime you’ve both seen before at a low volume. Familiar and comforting. He’s happy to just sit and chill with you until you feel like you’ve recharged enough. He knows you’d do the same for him.

_______

Satan:

Satan’s instinct, once he learns what’s going on, is to bring you to the quiet spot outside where the stray cats he has befriended gather and then plonk the chillest one in your lap.

Cats are perfect fluffy little warm purring bundles of free therapy, after all. How could you not be recharged by this?

He’s not wrong, the cat definitely helps. It is in fact a perfect creature.

But… well, you don’t bother to spend the energy on saying so, but being outside isn’t really helping. You cringe at every loud noise. The wind ruffling your clothes every so often is annoying you. You’re sitting on concrete and it’s making you cold. The streetlights feel particularly aggressive to your eyes today. Very stabby. There are smells outside! No one wants that!

You love the cats, but Satan is giving them all his attention and you’re getting just a little bit jealous. You as well are giving the cat in your lap all your attention, and—as stupid as you feel about it—you’re getting a little bit jealous about that too. You want attention too! All the cat has to do is be cute and soft and it can have all the petting and cuddling it wants! As it deserves, yes, but… don’t you as well, though..?

You try to push that feeling away and just pet the cat. The cat did nothing wrong, you still love it, you’re supposed to be feeling MORE recharged from this! Not… whatever it is you do feel. At the end of the day you still enjoy petting the cat and you don’t want it to leave. That’s still true and that’s what matters, you tell yourself.

Eventually the cat decides it’s had enough petting for now, and gets up. Satan checks on you, fully expecting you to be thoroughly cheered up! Instead he sees you staring forlornly at your hands, mostly zoned out. Confused, he asks if you’re okay.

You nod once, giving him a hollow smile.

Now he’s concerned. He takes a minute to finish petting the cats surrounding him—noting the hint of jealousy in your eyes as you observe him—then comes to sit on the concrete stair next to you.

He gently points out that he knows you well enough to detect a lie. Especially an unconvincing lie like that. You give a noncommittal hum in reply. That’s all you have the energy for.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, letting you slump against his side. Your head leans against his shoulder. His other arm comes up to stroke your head for a moment, then drops down again to take your hand.

In a small, tired voice, you thank him. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze in reply.

Eventually he adjusts you so he can hold you more comfortably. Every so often he kisses the top of your head, or rubs your shoulder, or squeezes your hand, or says something quietly to you. Pointing out a interesting leaf shape, telling you something inconsequential about his day, prompting you to look when one of the cats does something cute, reminding you that he loves you and it’s okay to feel like this. That he enjoys your company no matter what mood you’re in.

This helps a lot more. Eventually you have enough energy to reply to him in full sentences! He’s visibly relieved at that. Still, he continues to hold you.

It’s after this point that a different cat comes up to you. It sniffs your shoelace then rubs itself against your leg. It flops over your shoe, stretching adorably with its little paws reaching up. It looks up at you all wide-eyed and cute, and finally you give a short puff of a laugh. Satan feels it more than hears it, but still!! He feels successful!

You pet this cat as it stands up and sniffs at your free hand. You look at it with a little smile. There’s a bit more soul in this smile, to Satan’s relief.

Later, as the two of you are leaving, he slips the cat a treat and whispers a thank you to it. Then he takes your hand again and leads you back home.

(He makes a mental note to himself for next time: pet the sad human first!! Then go see the cats!)

_______

Asmo:

Asmo notices that you’re having one of those days today, and he rushes to spoil you. Like Mammon, his first instinct is to take you shopping—but specifically for clothes and makeup and skincare products. Stuff that would cheer him up.

But you’re tired, and he understands that. It’s okay, he still knows what to do!

Asmo brings you into his room. You curl up in a sad, tired lump on his bed. He lets you chill there while he gathers up the stuff he wants.

He returns to you with his arms full of stuff! Nail polish, face masks, a hairbrush, moisturizer and hair oil, etc etc. Stuff for taking care of you.

He makes a point of only doing stuff that doesn’t sting at all. No plucking eyebrows or messing with your cuticles or anything like that. Just the stuff that feels nice.

Asmo quietly chatters about people he knows and stuff he’s used and whatever the latest gossip he’s heard is. Not even really to inform you this time, because he knows you’re probably not gonna remember much when you’re like this, but more to provide you with a constant, grounding backdrop of his familiar voice.

He speaks softly to you as he wipes your face with cleanser and then proceeds with his skincare process. He gently brushes your hair, spending twice as long as necessary just because it feels nice. He insists you don’t bother to move as he sits next to you and paints your nails.

At some point he runs out of stuff to do, so he ends up just brushing over your face with a clean makeup brush. No product on it at all, he’s just doing it to make you relax, because it’s soft and it feels nice. It’s meditative, honestly. For both of you.

He spends a good long while doing that.

He finishes up and lies down next to you. He pulls you into a cuddle. You offer to return the favour for him. Do his skincare and hair and nails and stuff for him, spoil him back—because he deserves the best.

For the first time ever, he declines. He shushes you and holds you tighter. This is the only situation in which he would ever refuse that!

He says you’re more than welcome to return the favour tomorrow if you like, but for now he just wants you to rest. He did all that for you to get you in this relaxed state you’re in right now, don’t get up and un-relax yourself so fast! Keep your brain turned off! It’s good for you sometimes!

… yes, Asmo is surprised by his own selflessness too—more surprised than you are by now, knowing him. He’s always been selfless for your sake since you first became his friend. It still surprises him though.

_______

Beel:

Beel is your best guy for validation. For quiet, thoughtful, unwavering support. He’s a lot more insightful than he’s often given credit for. He’s one of the best people in this family in terms of emotional intelligence, no question about it.

He knows just what to do. He observes you as the day goes on, taking the first opportunity to pull you aside and check on you without any others around. Just to make absolutely sure there’s nothing else going on.

His voice is soft, his hands are gentle, and he puts effort into understanding you. You’re family, he loves you so much! So of course he would.

He’ll share his food with you of course—both because he wants you to know that he loves you that much, and because he’s trying to remove a task from your to-do list. You don’t have to think about getting food and preparing it and any of that if he just. Does it for you. You can spend your very limited energy elsewhere.

He’ll take you with him on his routine walk, just so you can have a change of scenery and an opportunity to chat uninterrupted.

He listens to you complain about being outside with his characteristic placid sympathy—a combination that would be a bit contradictory if it came from anyone else, but somehow makes perfect sense for Beel. It’s soothing. Reassuring, somehow. He helps a lot, just by being himself.

When you inevitably run out of energy—much quicker than you usually do, but you expected that—he offers to carry you. Or rather, he automatically goes to do it on muscle memory, because that’s just what he does with tired loved ones (Belphie usually). He catches himself and realizes he should ask first in this case. Just to make sure. He’s considerate like that.

You are very tired… and you want contact. So of course you accept the offer. How could you refuse when he offers so earnestly?

He walks in measured, consistent steps as he carries you. The sway of his movement is deliberately relaxing. He’s trying to lull you into a meditative haze, or maybe put you to sleep. Either is good, he thinks.

The warmth of him makes the… everything about being outside when you’re feeling this way a lot more tolerable. The sounds of his footsteps, his breaths, his heartbeat… all of that drowns out the background noise just enough. Your face is pressed into his jacket, so the streetlights don’t stab your eyes and all the distressingly inconsistent outside smells are entirely covered by the spices-aromatics-soap scent of Beel. It’s a smell you know very well, and the familiarity of it is grounding.

Everything about him is grounding, really. He really did know exactly what to do.

At the end of the day… it’s okay if you don’t smile. He would like you to, of course, but he will meet you where you’re at. Anyway, it’s more important to him that you feel like it’s safe to show however it is you actually feel around him. He understands the amount of trust that takes, and he’s honoured by it. Nothing is more important to him than that trust.

So, you don’t have to smile. It’s okay.

Don’t be strong, he tells you. There’s no need, for now. Just let him. Rest, lean on his strength—he’s got more than enough for both of you. He’s got you. He’s not going anywhere.

_______

Belphie:

Oh, you’re tired? A bit sad, a bit grouchy? Damn. Looks like even HE has more energy than you today. That’s not something he sees often! Well, that’s fine. He knows what to do.

It’s straight to baby jail with you!

In his arms, that is. In bed, surrounded by his best pillows, covered by the least warm heavy blanket he has, so you won’t overheat but will still feel nice and covered.

He positions you so you’re facing each other, with your head tucked under his chin. So you have room to comfortably breathe and talk, but your face is still as covered as possible so you won’t be bothered by any lights.

Emotional intelligence may not be Belphie’s strong suit, but he is observant and he understands exhaustion. This may not exactly be the usual kind of exhaustion, but still! There’s no demon better equipped to understand what’s going on with you right now, just by nature.

He’s totally fine with cuddling you in silence if you don’t feel like talking. That really works for him, actually, because it allows him to nap.

Not that he doesn’t WANT to listen to you. He does. He’d be happy to. But he gets it if you don’t wanna bother with that. It’s okay.

He will, however, delay taking a nap until you doze off first. He just wants to make sure you’re okay. He’s not about to just fall asleep and abandon you if you still need attention.

If you’re not falling asleep very fast, he will help. Not with magic, surprisingly. He’s being more… gentle, he supposes, than that in this situation.

He talks quietly about nothing important. The soft drone of his voice, kept consistent and deliberately soporific, melts into your brain like butter, slowing it way down. Blocking everything else out. Gradually turning it off. One hand rubs your back slowly, almost as if to match the rhythm of his voice.

It’s so relaxing. You feel like you could stay like this forever and never want to move, you’re that comfortable.

Belphie knows what he’s doing.

It works really well! He makes sure you feel loved and cared for, then makes sure you get some extra rest. Mental and physical recharging.

Of course, you wake up feeling a lot better. Maybe not entirely back to your normal self yet, but definitely better. How could you not?

You’re a lot less tired after you’ve slept, and less sad too… so he’s succeeded—but you’re still not smiling!

He can fix that, right?

He lets you get up and stretch first, of course. He does the same. Before you leave the room though, he wraps you up in another hug.

He pulls back to examine your face after a minute or two.

Hmm… you look comfy, but still no smile! He can’t have that! So he hugs you tightly again, but this time his fingers start to lightly poke and brush over your sides. He’s trying to force you to smile by tickling you. He’s not gonna do too much, he’s not trying to overwhelm you. He stops as soon as you crack a smile.

There we go, he says as he gives you one last gentle squeeze. That was all he wanted, he tells you.

He doesn’t let go of you for long, over the rest of the day. Always holding your hand, giving you random hugs, draping himself over your shoulders—but without making you take all his weight for once, because he knows you’re still kinda tired. Enough of it to be soothing, but no more. Just so you don’t get lonely. He doesn’t want you to get all sad again.

If you do get sad again though, it’s okay. He will squish the sadness out of you all over again, as many times as you need. He doesn’t mind.

_______