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pitchsidestories · 2 days ago

Text

el sueño de una niña II Jenni Hermoso x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2175

a/n: dear readers, the inspiration for this oneshot was Jenni Hermoso's speech at the Ballon d'Or ceremony, enjoy. 🖤💜

“Wait, I know that you’re a football player. Why did you come from my mamis bedroom?”

Jenni was on her way to sneak out of your appartement but when that small voice held her back. Curiously she turned the head around to look into the eyes of a little girl who the Spaniard estimated to be between five to six years old.

That must have been your daughter Mila Jenni thought to herself. It was the big confession after the great night the two of you had spent together.

Something in the reveal activated her flight mode, the forward’s plan was to leave and never look back. Her life was so chaotic she didn’t feel ready to be a part of a family.

Even though everything about yesterday touched her more than Jenni wanted to admit. Images of it flashed behind her eyes capturing passion, beauty and love.

“Uhm.. you didn’t see me, okay?”, the raven-haired woman returned the question flustered.

“But you’re the Jenni Hermoso, right? The one who won the World cup with Spain.”, Mila looked at her big-eyed, her voice full of adoration.

“Yes, but don’t tell anyone.”, Jenni replied, pressing a finger to her lips to underline her words.

“Wow.”, the little girl whispered amazed.

“Sorry, I really need to leave now. I’ve a speech to write.”, the striker apologized.

This didn’t stop Mila to confide in the older woman. “I’d love to be a football player like you when I’m grown up.”

“You do?”, something of your daughter’s sincerity made Jenni stay despite her announcement earlier that she needed to go.

“Yes.”, the girl emphasized.

“Hm..”

“It’s a big dream of mine.”, Mila added smiling shily.

“You’ll have to work hard for it.”, the Spaniard told her seriously.

“I can do that.”, your daughter assured her.

“And people will try to keep you from it.. they will tear you down and hope you’ll be compliant.”, Jenni continued gravely, kneeing down so she could look into the girl’s eyes.

“Did they do that with you?”, Mila questioned empathetically, placing her small hand carefully to the dark-haired woman’s cheek.

“Yes. All my life. So, promise me one thing, okay?”, she confirmed.

“Okay?”

“Don’t let anyone tell you what you can and cannot be. Promise?”, Jenni pressed a kiss to your daughter’s fingers.

“I promise.”, Mila answered solemnly.

“If you excuse me now.”, the older woman gave her an apologetic look.

“Bye, Jenni. I hope I’ll see you back soon.”, the girl said in an optimistic tone that left no doubt that the football player would return to your appartement.

“We’ll see. Thank you though.”, Jenni answered gratefully.

“Thank you for what?”, your daughter frowned confused.

“You just gave me an idea for my speech.”, the football player’s face lit up with excitement as she spoke.

Jenni shuffled the pieces of papers once more while someone applied her make up for the Ballon D’Or ceremony.

The writing on her notes was almost illegible, she had scribbled down her thoughts way too quickly on her way to the venue. It didn’t matter. She knew now what she wanted to say on stage. Still, she refused to let go of her notes.

“Jenni, have you actually prepared a speech?”

Alexias face appeared behind her in the mirror, She was already in her suit, her hair pulled into a low bun.

Jenni was about to complain about the surprised tone of Alexias voice when Patri joined them: “No way! I thought you’d just start talking like you always do.“

Jenni raised one eyebrow at the reflection of her two Spanish teammates and grinned: “That was the initial plan but I had a better idea.“

“Did someone spark your inspiration?”, Marta asked innocently.

Once the make-up artist let go of her face, she turned towards them and nodded: “Yes. And I hope she’s watching.“

Her teammates exchanged unreadable glances without saying a word while Jenni walked past them, leading the way to the award ceremony.

For what felt like hours, they sat there and listened to men talk. Jennis gaze kept going back to the clock, willing the time to slow down or the speakers to talk faster so Mila had a chance to watch before her bedtime.

Finally, she was called up on stage to receive her award. There was applause but she knew a lot of the people weren’t satisfied with her nomination. She held onto her notes and it all faded into the background once she started speaking about the little girl that wanted to follow in her footsteps, the girl that deserved to have a safer environment to play football in.

Her teammates welcomed her back to her seat with standing ovations. Alexia nodded at her once with a set jaw while Aitana gave her an inquiring look: “You dedicated it to a young girl? Who’s that?”

“Someone I met this morning.“, Jenni replied truthfully as she sat down.

“She seems to have left quite an impression on you.“, Caroline remarked.

“She did. Sometimes I wonder why I put up with all this shit… but there are so many little girls out there that should have it better than we did back then.“

“I agree with that.“, Alexia chimed in.

Marta nodded in agreement: “Me too, obviously. We had to put up with a lot.“

“Let’s be honest, we still do.“, Aitana whispered.

Jenni answered with new-found determination: “Yes but until she gets older, we might have already changed some more things.“

“I bet we will.“, Salma said quietly, before they all went quiet again and focused on the next award recipient.

Much to the surprise of her national and former club teammates Jenni announced at the after party, the alcohol-free wine glass still resting in her hand untouched. “I think I’m going to leave.”

“Leave?”, Patri repeated puzzled.

“Yeah, this party is boring anyway.”, the striker shrugged. The other women secretly thought the same, they couldn’t celebrate like the men around them as they were having a national team game the next morning.

Seeing Jenni step into your apartment while she still wore her glamorous dark suit jacket showing a large portion of her skin underneath felt almost unreal to you. It wasn’t that long ago when Mila and you watched the ballon d’or ceremony on tv and now she was back in flesh and blood. The football player was even more gorgeous here than on the screen.

Quickly Jenni revealed that the celebrations had bored her which was the moment you told her about your night.

“Mila stayed awake the whole time, she didn’t want to fall asleep until you were on the stage, Jenni.”

“She watched?”, the dark-haired woman asked happily.

“Yes, Mila loved everything about your speech.”, you nodded thrilled by the fact that your excitement was mirrored in the forward’s face.

“I’ve to thank her. She inspired me.”, she confessed.

“You inspired her as well.”, you admitted smiling.

“Even if she’s the only one, I reached my goal.”, Jenni beamed.

“To be fair I think you inspired many more with your words.”, you remarked solemnly.

“I hope so.”, the dark-haired woman sighed.

“Trust me.”, you answered softly.

After a meaningful pause you added. “I almost thought you wouldn’t call or wanted to see me again back then you left without a word in the morning.”

“That would sound like me actually.”, the footballer cleared her throat nervously. She loved to play the game, haunting for the next great beauty to court and lay down in bed with before going on the haunt again, always being a restless player. All was fair in love and football.

“She’ll appreciate the thank you though, it’ll mean a lot to her.”, you said while you bit your lip.

“That’s why I’m here. I want to thank you both.”, Jenni looked at you sincerely.

“Shouldn’t you be at the grand afterparty sipping champagne and flirting with pretty women?”, you lifted an eyebrow curiously.

“Not many women there that aren’t my teammates. And I’m not allowed to drink, I’ve to be back with my national team tomorrow.”, the striker chuckled amused.

“I see.”

“And maybe I preferred to spend my time here.”, she acknowledged, one hand ran tensely through her long hair.

You considered her for a moment and nodded in the direction of Milas bedroom: “Sadly she’s already asleep…“

“That’s okay. I could stay if you let me.“

You knew you should have thought about it for longer but you couldn’t resist the thought of Jenni staying one more night: “Yes, you can. If you promise to say goodbye in the morning.“

“If I was planning to sneak out again, I wouldn’t have told you.“, Jenni half-joked.

You tilted your head: “Good point.“

“So?”

“You can stay the night.“, you finally confirmed.

Relief seemed to flash across Jennis face for a millisecond: “Thanks.“

“You’re welcome, Jenni.“

The next morning you were woken up by footsteps on the wooden floor. Your heart sank immediately, thinking it was Jenni breaking her promise so you refused to turn around. You didn’t want to watch her leave again. Instead you heard a tiny voice whisper in awe: “Jenni!”

“Woah, you’re already awake, little one. Good morning.“, Jenni yawned and stretched right next to you.

She was still here, still in your bed.

“I saw you! Last night!”, Mila said full of excitement.

“You did? And did you like my suit? It’s on that chair.“, Jenni smiled, pointing across the room.

You watched as Mila walked over and gently touched the fabric in awe.

“It’s beautiful.“

“Right? Next year I’ll take you and your mum with me.“, the football player said, winking at you as if to tell you that she knew you were awake.

While the smile fell from your face, Milas eyes lit up: “What? Really?”

“Yes, why not?”

You might have been desperate for her to stay another night but you weren’t delusional. Who knew where the two of you were in a year? Most likely not sharing a bed anymore.

“Don’t promise her too much.“, you warned the football player.

Jenni was unusually quiet before replied: “I… mean it.“

“You mean it?”

“I do. I want to keep seeing you and her.“, she said with determination.

Milas eyes had been darting back and forth between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match. “We want to keep seeing you too!”, she yelled happily.

Completely ignoring you, Jenni turned back to your daughter and pulled her onto the bed: “Would you like to see a football game in Italy tonight?”

Mila was bursting with joy: “Yes!”

“I mean isn’t that too spontaneous? Like what about the airplane tickets?“, you interjected.

“I can take care of it all. But only if that’s okay with you.“, Jenni offered while Mila put on her best puppy eyes: “Pleeease.“

Who were you to deny your daughter such a once in a lifetime opportunity?

With a hesitant nod, you finally agreed: “Okay.“

The day has flown by, Mila and you quickly packed your bag for one night, before following your lover to get on the plane. While the striker was on the team walk, your daughter and you did your own exploring the Italian surroundings. It was like a daydream from which you didn’t want to wake up.

In the evening, you could feel from the stands Jennis glances on you who was standing on the pitch with some of her friends. Next to you Mila couldn’t hide her excitement seeing her favourite players live. It genuinely warmed your heart to witness and share that special moment with your child.

“Pretty girl from next door? She’s so your type, Jenni.”, Laia Codina wiggled her eyebrows.

“That’s why she’s here.”, the forward winked at the defender.

With a smirk on her face Alexia bumped her elbow into her teammates side. “Who would’ve thought that Jennifer found herself a family.”

“Strange things happen, Ale.”, Jenni shrugged with her shoulders.

“Yes, it’s Halloween soon.”, Vicky threw in teasingly.

“Rude.”, the older striker commented smiling.

“Vicky.”, the Barcelona captain clicked her tongue reprovingly.

The test game ended in a draw, but that didn’t stop Jenni from giving you a passionate kiss.

“That wasn’t very subtle, Jenni.”, you laughed.

“I don’t care about subtle anymore.”, she clarified grinning.

“What about the others watching?”, you asked her, cheeks flushed.

“They just love to stare at pretty girls.”, Jenni stated firmly.

“Pretty girls, hm?”, you repeated. Admittedly under her intense gaze you felt more beautiful than ever before. She didn’t hide her desire towards you and wasn’t afraid to show it in the public.

“Yes.”, she confirmed.

“Kiss me again.”, you requested, your voice slightly hoarse from cheering. Before you even could finish your sentence, her lips were on yours, making both of your hearts flutter.

Everything started with a dream of a little girl which was your daughter, in which Jenni saw her younger self, Mila undoubtedly became her inspiration for the speech. The three of you would now dream together.

Keep dreaming.

gif source: https://www.tumblr.com/imverits/765621490900238336?source=share

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enwoso · 17 hours ago

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CASUAL — leah williamson

wow, it’s a long one. this has admittedly taken me so long to write. i had the idea of this fic at the start of october but for some reason its just took so long to actually finish lol, but anyways as always hope you enjoy🤍

warning: implied smut, mdni 18+

masterlist

"girl where did you end up last night?" your best friend and also flatmate, amelie asked as you sat in your local cafe debriefing from last nights' night out events over a 'morning' coffee — it was more late afternoon — the two of you having very different endings to the night.

you sat swirling the dregs of your coffee around as you tried to find the way to explain, not so much how you didn't end up back at the flat cause you know she's knows that after catching you walking through the front door at nine am this morning in last nights clothes your head hanging from both the severe amount of alcohol you'd consumed last night but also in slight shame.

it was more whose apartment you stayed at you were trying to find the words to tell her about.

"oh y/n. you didn't did you-" amelie began as you nodded as a defeated sigh left your lips. that being all the clarification your best friend needed. ok, it may not be your proudest moment but who are you to deny a sexy, goddess of a women. but you knew this was heading in the direction of your getting another ear full.

"y/n.. what have i told you, you need to cut all ties with leah. you deserve someone who's going to treat you so much better-" amelie reached out grabbing your hands as you were still looking down at your coffee cup, you looked up a little.

you knew she was right, but you couldn't admit that to yourself. there was something about leah she was addicting and no matter how many times you ended up in between her sheets telling yourself it was the last time, it always happened again.

"yeah but-" you began but amelie gave you a stern look as her eyebrows raised as you rolled your eyes, "ok i get the message, i'll put it on my to-do list — cut leah williamson off." you dryly said, knowing it would be easier said than actually done.

"seriously you need too, your acting like a loser-" amelie continued as you opened your mouth to say something about the small insult she'd thrown your way but you were unable to. "you are though, your better than the rumours that people are spitting-"

"how do you-"

"people talk y/n!"

you'd heard the rumours going around the locals plus there'd been some article posted on an instagram post noticing you in leah's car after a match — you being labelled as 'mysterious girl'.

you weren't known to the media, thank god, you were lucky if you had over two hundred followers as if you had anymore than that fans would have an absolute field day with the news.

instead you were just a normal, twenty six year old girl who'd grown up in north london and had the usual nine to five corporate job as well as having a casual relationship with the leah williamson but you kept that under wraps as after all it was just something which was casual.

you'd met through a mutual friend of yours who also happened to be one of leah's teammates. lotte, who you went to school together and you'd stayed somewhat in contact. it always being a pleasant surprise to see her whenever your paths crossed.

you had bumped into her in a coffee shop near hours before you were being pressed up against a club wall by a blonde defender, having had one too many. the two of you had spent the night being overly touchy and flirting, her lips being felt all around your body leaving your skin feeling hot and your head all fuzzy.

"mine or yours?" leah whispered against your ear, as her teeth grazed your earlobe, you having to refrain yourself from whimpering. leah's hands gripping your hips as your were tangled in the ends of her hair.

"yours" you managed to get out, although it was quiet leah hear every letter. her hands reaching up to grab your hand as she dragged you through the club and towards the exit without as much of a bat of an eyelid towards her friends who she was leaving behind.

to both your luck there was a black cab waiting on the side of the road, both of you taking the chance to get in as leah immediately told the driver her address.

leah's hand stayed on your thigh the entire time as her thumb drew little circles absentmindedly, the busy streets of london making it feel like it's taken hours just to get a few minutes up the road.

as you watched out the window there was a cloud of regret you knew you'd feel in the morning but right now that wasn't what you mind wanted. you right now wanted leah.

so as soon as you cross the threshold of her apartment, you were pinned against the wall. the coldness sending a sharp shiver down your spine. "your so gorgeous" leah whispered as her eyes darkened, the sweet innocence of her blue eyes long gone.

inching closer so that your faces were impossibly close, taking one of her hands as it lands on the back of your neck and kisses you. slow but deep.

letting yourself get lost in her lips as it becomes more passionate and searching but then leah leans back a little, realising that you were in the middle of her hallway.

"come with me, baby" she whispers, her accent thick as the pet name rolls off her tongue but laced with love making your head spin even more as she extends her hand for you to grab as she leads you towards her bedroom, pushing the door open with her foot as her other hand laces itself back around you waist pulling you back to being impossibly close to her.

giving her a teasing look as she kisses you again this one more needy and fervent. feeling her hands all around your body nipping and pulling at your skin as you feel the back of you legs on the edge of her bed. a slight push and you back met with softness of her white sheets.

a small moan leaving leah's lips into the kiss as she felt your hands gently squeeze her ass, feeling her smile against your lips knowing that you were having the same affect on her as she was on you. you were both driving each other crazy.

as the kiss grow more sloppy as whines were being strung from both of your lips, your hips mindlessly starting to slowly grind against her. leah moving to kiss your neck leaving small kisses and sucking on your neck that elicited small moans from your lips as your breathing hitches.

leah's kisses to your neck becoming more intense you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the second as you hips carried on to move against her. your hands lingering on her back as your nails dug that little deeper, more than likely leaving scratch marks.

"please le-" you moan out softly, needing more.

that wasn't the last time you saw the blonde defender, nor the last time you ended up with your limbs tangled between each other.

whenever the other had, had a drink or just when you needed company leah seemed to always be there. you felt like you craved her at all hours of the day. you found your mind sometimes wondering what she may be doing when you weren't by her side.

but you weren't together, it was just a casual thing. is what you found you were telling yourself.

but with each weekend that passed you found yourself spending them with leah more and more often. which is exactly what had happened this weekend.

leah had called you, she never calls you only ever texts. strange is what you thought when you saw her caller id on the screen a small smile slipping onto your lips as you pressed accept.

"hello?" you said as leah was yet to speak, you thought maybe she had called the wrong number. maybe she hadn't meant to call you .

"hi y/n-" she finally spoke but she lacked her usual confident tone, this time it had been replaced with a nervous shake of her accent. like she had something in her head that she needed to get out.

"did you need something le?" you ask as there is a deafening silence on the other end, a few rustling sounds before leah clears her throat.

"um are you doing anything this afternoon-" leah paused as you think to your plans for the afternoon, "more specifically are you doing anything at two?" leah continued as she waited your response as you hummed.

"no i should be free, why?" you asked wondering what this was going to lead to, what did she have planned.

"fabulous!" a breath of relief was let out from leah as she had a big grin on her face on the other line which if you could have saw would have made you smile, "since you aren't doing anything, do you wanna come to my match?"

you felt as though her words had just fell on deaf ears, you couldn't believe what you were actually hearing. ever since you and leah had- well whatever your relationship was it had always been in the darkness of everyone else, behind peoples back and away from prying eyes.

this felt like a step, you didn't know what direction but it felt like it meant something good.

as you tried to contain your happiness you nodded forgetting she wasn't actually in the room with you, "i- um i would love to le"

"great! i'll erm get your tickets sorted and send them over" leah explained as you hummed along before she quickly had to say her goodbyes claiming that she needed to get her pre match routine started.

since having to re-organise your afternoon, you were now going around rushing trying to find an outfit. not knowing if it was too cliche you going in an arsenal jersey of leah's or whether a subtle hint of red in your outfit would be a better idea.

deciding on just the subtle hint of red, finding a red cap which just so happen to also be leah’s which she’d left at yours after one night.

once you got the match you were amazed at the amount of people who had turned up, yourself not being as clued in of how big a scale women’s football was as admittedly you didn’t exactly have a big interest in football or in sport in general.

but for leah, you’d sit and watch football match after match if you knew it would make her happy.

once you found your seat in the stand you quickly sent the blonde a message not expecting her to even reply but she did.

Y/N:) - i’m here! good luck, i’ll be cheering you on☺️

LE<3 - i seen you! i’ve been looking for that hat. but i think it’s found a better home now;)

LE<3 - meet me near the dugout at the end!

finding yourself smiling at her messages as she sent another telling you what to say to the security so they would let you in to where leah wanted you to be, before slipping your phone back into your pocket ready to watch a game of football.

the ninety minutes felt as if they flew by, and at first you must admit you didn’t exactly understand what you were watching so you just cheered when everyone else around you did, but at the first half and definitely into the second half you managed to get a few rules down — with the help of a google search..

watching as leah walked around clapping and waving to fans looking so effortlessly good in her kit and with the fact she’d just run around for a good ninety minutes it never managed to fail to surprise you how easy she made it look.

despite the team only coming out with a draw which you knew leah would be slightly huffed about especially since they were by far the better team, you still were incredibly proud of her.

walking down and reciting the exact words that leah had messaged you to the security you made it to where she had told you to meet her, but that’s when a certain someone recognised you. a wide smile and arms wide open for you.

"oh y/n it's lovely to see you" amanda engulfed you in a hug, a warm fuzzy but also bittersweet feeling filling your chest. you'd met her mum totally by accident one of the first times that you and leah slept together. she'd been dropping of groceries for her daughter. leah trying to rush you out the door before things got to awkward.

but instead amanda being the polite women she is asked her daughter to introduce you to her. it ending up you stayed an extra two hours longer than you'd planned much to leah's discomfort, but in a way that made it all the more that enjoyable.

"what you doing after here?" amanda asked as she pulled you out the hug, leah lingering just behind you chewing the inside of her lip. "just if your not busy you can always join us for a few drinks" amanda smiled so sincerely as you thought over the invitiation briefly, would it be awkward - maybe? but friends can go out for drinks too!

“yeah, i’d love too” you grinned as a small cheer left amanda’s lips, you seeing the slight falter of a look on leah’s face before it turned back to her signature tight lipped frown.

or maybe you did it just to spite the blonde defender who stood so nervous next to you.

"brilliant! leah we'll wait out at the cars for you" amanda directed towards her daughter as she nodded a small sigh leaving her lips as she plastered on a fake smile, you knew there was a part of her that didnt want you there but that just added fuel to your fire.

amanda looping her arm with yours as the two of you walked towards where the cars would be at the back of the emirates stadium to take you and the williamson family for a few drinks to celebrate the win.

"so how have you been?" amanda asks as she walks beside you, a genuine interest in her tone, as you hum catching her up with your life which hadn't been all that exciting, most days merging into one.

"leah tells me you've been helping her with some business project? how's it going?" amanda asks and you swear your throat started to close up, your words getting stuck in between your lips as your eyes goes wide.

"oh- um yeah it's coming together-" quite literally. you stutter out a response hoping it doesn't raise to much suspicion and praying that the topic is over with just as quick as it came.

"leah won't give me a clue what it's about" amanda complains as she continues to tell you about the countless times she tried to get it out of her daughter as you hummed along more in your head as to why leah would say you were just business partners? why not just say your friends, cause after all you were?

"mhm well i won't be one to spoil the surprise then" you nervously chuckled as you saw the cars in the distance knowing you were close to the end of the conversation. amanda letting out a groan as she hoped she'd be able to get the big surprise out of you but that would be pretty hard considering there was no big surprise.

you were going to have to talk with leah, which would be a little odd as when the two of you were alone, not much talking would be done well not the converse action.

amanda letting go of your arm as she got into the other side of the cab, leah coming out the exit of the back of the stadium as she jogged quickly getting into the people carrier. sitting herself in the seat next to you as she shot you a soft smile.

the night was actually going smoothly, leah seemed to get out of whatever strop she was in when you were stood with her family in the emirates and was actually talking to you now. well more flirting with you. her hand getting dangerously high up on your thigh as she spoke.

"have i told you how pretty you look-" she blurted out as you took a small sip of your drink, a small smile appearing on your face as you lifted the glass from your lips and back to the table.

"you may have mentioned a few times" you whispered as this time it was leah's time to smile as her hand drifted a little further up your thigh as you shot her look as she squeezed your thigh making you jump in your seat a little.

"le-" you harhsly said inbetween your teeth as she looked at you so innocently as if she had not clue what she was doing to you but you know she knew. leah knew what her touch was doing to you and how it was affecting you.

leah had you right where she wanted you and honestly, you were going to let her - you'd face the consequences later on. right now, you wanted her, in more ways than one.

standing up with a loud scrape of your chair, all eyes turning to land on you, "m'sorry just- i'll be back-" you stutter out, your cheeks all flushed as you made a beeline straight for the toilets.

amanda looking worryingly over her shoulder at you before turning to leah, who just simply shrugged that making her mum's eyebrows furrow even more.

"i better go and check on her" leah stood up excusing herself as she followed suit pushing the door on the pub toilet door seeing you touching up your lip gloss as you regained your composure from the feeling on her hands on your body.

leah locking the door behind her, a rye smile on her lips as she stepped just that little bit closer to you, feeling your heart beat just that little bit faster.

was it nerves, probably but maybe it was more the uncertainty as you never knew what you were going to get with the blonde.

"are you sure?" leah whispered as she placed a quick kiss to your cheek before resting her hands to your hips as a smug smile came from you before you nodded.

"do you think you can keep up?" leah teased as your shot her a shocked look as she pulled you into deeper into the bathroom, your back now pushed flush against the sink.

"i'm sure i can.. business partner-" you whisper as you inch closer to her, making your eyes switch between her eyes and lips a flash of shock appearing on her face.

but just as leah opened her mouth to say another teasing comment, you wrap your hand behind her neck and slam your lips against hers. the kiss quickly turning heated when leah's tongue enters your mouth as a familiar warmth floods your body in seconds,

her hands gripping at your waist as she tugs you closer to her without breaking the kiss. the sound of your lips together was enough to leave an uncomfortable throbbing inbetween your legs.

leah pulls back for a moment searching for anything in your eyes that may say that you don't want this but there was nothing but lust, a small whine leaving your lips at the loss of contact in your lips before leah's diving right back in.

the sound that had been blasting through the pub had now quieten to a mere hum as your focus was solely now on the girl in front of you.

her hands placed on the small on your back slightly pushing in to make your back arch as your chest pushed into her. as leah's hands soon made their way slowly to slide down you your ass as your tongues graze against each other.

"so pretty for me, my love" your heart jumps at her loving tone as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks, leah's words always having some sort of effect on you and always leaving you feeling flustered.

leah's eyes roam your figure as her hand traces absentmindedly, as if she planning her next attack on your body. the blonde noticing the way your breath hitched when her fingers sit on your pulse point on your neck.

leah rotating her hand so her fingers lie gently against it awaiting your reaction as she smirks watching as you squeeze your eyes shut, as your hands grip against the rim of the sink.

a small chuckle leaves leah's lips as she leans down to press her lips to your neck sucking harshly on your sweet spot. a string of little whimpers leave your pretty little lips as you tilt your head more to the side allowing leah to have more access.

"le, please do something" you beg, feeling her hand roam underneath your hoodie, grazing across your breasts.

"don't be impatient baby girl" she rasps against your ear, tugging down on it with her teeth as you feel your self squeeze your thighs together. hoping it will help you relieve some tension between her legs.

leah finally lifting your hoodie over your head as she throws to the ground of the pub bathroom. usually you would have felt embarrassed as you would feel your whole body want to cower aways but with leah, it felt different. it felt good, it felt right.

it was a typical saturday night, leah had her home match at the emirates on the sunday so she was taking advantage of her the small out of rest time she had. a small hum of the tv playing in the background as you watched it, but really all your mind could focus on was the fact leah’s fingers were combing through the ends of your hair.

you were lying wrapped in leah's arms on her couch as the tv played, leah focused on some insta reel on her phone. you head tucked on her chest as it heaved up and down, the wholesome of the interaction. it felt like it was meant to be — it felt real.

"le?" you whispered your head turning to look up at the blonde as a small hum left her lips, her phone lowering a little.

"where do you see yourself in a year?" you asked, it was something that played on your mind a lot, cause would you still be in some casual relationship with leah or would you have your own apartment and she’d show you off to her friends as something more.

you were more hoping for the second option, since the months had passed since you both promised out of breathe that there wouldn’t be any strings attached.

and boy oh boy had that changed, especially since your favourite bra lived in her dresser. it was pretty hard to be casual.

“cause maybe we’d be more and going on cute little dates in a cafe before you’d go off to training” you began as you sat up, you rambling on as your hands flew around with some enthusiasm making you miss the way leah’s face changed.

“and then when you come home i’d be there waiting, your dinner on the table-“ you paused as you looked down to see leah’s face, puzzled but also her eyes they told you a different emotion, not the same energy you had but it was sadness — more a sense of guilt.

“i- sorry i got ahead of myself” you mumbled as your back sunk into the back of her couch, the further side from her.

leah shook her head, and you were half expecting her to wrap you in a hug and kiss your cheek and tell you it was okay and that maybe she felt the same way.

but she didn’t.

"y/n, remember, we're not together-" leah cut straight to the point, her tone blunt as you felt your heart drop and your brows furrowing and a quickly developing pout spreading across your lips.

you let out a shaky breath as you nodded slowly, you understood. she had kept her side of the promise of no strings attached. “i- just thought maybe?” you said so quietly it only came out as a whisper as you fidgeted with your fingers.

looking up to see leah’s face it told you everything you needed to know. you’d only known the blonde for a several amount of months but you knew her well enough to know what her face was telling you without actually having to say the actual words.

“oh i get it” you scoffed slightly, choking back on the tears which pricked at your eyes. all it ever was going to be was casual.

leah’s opened her mouth but nothing came out as she sat herself up on the couch but before she could even attempt to reach out to you, you were up from the couch. slipping your shoes on your feet. you didn’t want to be in the same room as her.

“y/n- don’t” leah finally managed to get out as she followed your actions following you into her hallway which was littered with her football memorabilia from her glittering career. but you shook your head, her voice to painful to hear as you stopped with your back to her just before the front door.

"do you know what's actually quite funny-" you paused to let out a little chuckle as you stood mere metres from the door, as you looked up from your shoes spinning slightly so you faced her. leah stood her shoulders sunken as she tried to plead with you not to leave.

"i actually thought i meant something to you- but i guess that's just how little i actually meant to you" you sighed as tried to steady your breath, tears prickling at your eyes ready to fall at any moment.

"i- i was ready-" you paused as your words got stuck in your throat, leah reaching out for you as you took a step back. "i was ready to give you my everything" you admitted it coming out just a little louder than a whisper.

"y/n-"

“no leah, you’d made it clear how you feel” you spat out as you spun on your heal, leaving leah calling out your name but your ignored her, reaching for the door and hearing how it clicked shut behind you.

part of you was hoping she was going to rip her front door open and call after you and not stop until you were back in the warmth of her arms but the corridor in her apartment block was silent.

the other part of you hated yourself how long you had let it drag out for, but now you were free. she can go to hell.

stumbling through the street as your tears fell down your cheeks, tapping away at your phone until you found the contact you wanted, the dial drilling through your ear a few times before it got to voicemail.

you sighed as you heard the beep, "i cut her off, amelie."

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #awfc #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #england wnt #england women #england #enwoso

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peanutpinet · 2 days ago

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Biased - Sylus x Innocent Fem Reader (Under My Care Pt. 2)

Request: Can we have a part 2 where Innocent MC accidentally interrupting a meeting because she was exited about something and really wanted to tell Sylus? ( It can be simply as she got him a special crow plush or she won something but Sylus and the twins forgot to tell her about the meeting?)

A/N: some have been requesting a pt. 2 of Under My Care and one of you made a specific request about it. Just a lil fluff I decided to post for those who are looking for more Sylus fluff. I hope that this fic brightens up your day 🥰

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest and credit goes to the image's respective owners.

Warnings: fluff, slightly aggressive Sylus (not towards you, his men lmao), possessive and protective Slyus (not in a bad way)

After months of dating Sylus, he finally brought you to his penthouse at the N109 zone. Ever since the night when some of Sylus’ business partners barged into your dinner date, Sylus has shared more secrets of himself with you. But to Sylus’ surprise, you weren’t scared of him. You weren’t scared at the fact that he was the leader of a notorious bad group of people, the number one most wanted person in the N109 zone, the man who everyone practically feared.

Because to you, he’s just Sylus. He’s your first boyfriend and the first ever person to accept you for who you are. To not push your boundaries and be willing to do whatever it is that you enjoy. Knowing that you didn’t care about his title, money, or status made Sylus love you even more.

He would occasionally take you to his penthouse to stay over the weekend before bringing you back to Linkon, where you worked at a local bakery. He would also send you gifts and souvenirs whenever he was travelling. No matter where he was, or what time it was, Sylus would always be there whenever you needed him.

You suddenly got your period and want to cuddle with him? During your phone call, Sylus had teleported himself outside of your room. You wanted to visit a certain country? Sylus would immediately prepare his private jet and take you there, buying you all the things that your eyes lingered on. You want to try new hobbies? Sylus would pay for your lessons. All he asked is for you to stay by him which you had always done since the beginning.

This week, you had the whole week off and decided to stay with Sylus for the whole week which Sylus would tease about is; saying it was practice for when you two get married and settle down together. Despite your good baking and cooking skills, Sylus would still do most of the cooking. As for housework, you tried to be sneaky and do it while Sylus was in a meeting or something but Sylus would always know. He had Mephisto keep an eye on you and when he saw the chance, Sylus would immediately teleport behind you, wrapping his large hands around your waist, having a playful debate before finally coming to a middle ground and doing the housework together.

Today, however, you were determined to impress Sylus. You told Sylus that you wanted to head into town for a moment just to go to the grocery shop. But when you didn’t see him anywhere, you thought that this was the perfect chance to actually surprise him. But first, you tried to find Mephisto because you knew that even if you couldn’t find Sylus, he would always remind you to either text him or at least bring Mephisto with you.

Once you found Mephisto, you invited the mechanical bird who has taken a liking in you and texted Sylus before heading to the nearby grocery shop. You walked to the grocery store with Mephisto sitting on your shoulder, accompanying you as you stroll through the aisle, putting fresh produce, several baking materials, and snacks in your shopping cart.

After paying for the groceries with Sylus’ card; because the man hid your wallet whenever you came to visit him and would always put one of his cards in your wallet. You and Mephisto walked back to the penthouse where you started to prepare a feast for Sylus and the twins, Luke and Kieran.

Aside from Mephisto, you also bonded with the twins, Luke and Kieran, very well. They would often accompany you if Sylus were to have a sudden meeting or if you were bored but the twins were free and it ended up with the three of you playing kitty cards.

But again, today, it was just you and Mephisto. Even though the mechanical bird couldn’t talk, you kept on talking with it and even asked him to help take some ingredients for you as you cooked while you wait for your baked goods in the oven.

You decided to make some of Sylus’ favourite food which were braised beef with a side dish of sauteed vegetables along with some baked good which were brownies and chocolate chip cookies.

Once both the food you cooked and baked goods were done, you decided to plate them neatly and decided to search for Sylus in the penthouse because you know that when Sylus was out, he would always text you but because he didn’t, you were certain he was still in the penthouse.

After sometime, you finally heard Sylus’ voice, excitement surged through you as you barged into the room without thinking, expressing your happiness for making Sylus’ favourite food and some sweet treats for him and the twins.

“Sy, Luke, Kieran, I made lunch and some sweet and…” you exclaimed but didn’t even get to finish as you saw the situation in the room

Sylus was sitting in his chair with Luke and Kieran standing to either side of him, the entire room was filled with men who all wore black just like Luke and Kieran were. They didn’t looked like bodyguards, some were older than others, and you could tell that they were in an important meeting which reminded you of the time where Sylus’ business partner first barged in during your dinner date.

As if Sylus was able to read your mind without his aether core, Sylus immediately called out to you before anyone else could speak of something. “Hi sweetie, c’mere. Show me what you made for me and the twins, hmm?”

Sylus could sense your uncertainty with being watched by everyone in the room whom you didn’t know and honestly it was getting on his nerves because he could see how some of the men were eyeing you like you were a sweet treat.

“If any of you eye her or think about her in any way that displeases me, I’ll have to have an additional talk with you all. Personally” Sylus threatened as he motioned you to come closer to him. “It’s okay sweetie, come here”

You then started to walk cautiously towards Sylus who welcomed you with open arms and helped you sit on his lap as you held the lunch you made for him and the twins. “It’s okay sweetie, you weren’t disturbing anything too serious, hmm” Sylus gently held your chin between his fingers, rubbing it lovingly

You tried your best to seem like you’re okay and nodded towards Sylus who still wasn’t convinced but he didn’t want to push you too far. “Okay, sweetie. Let me wrap up this meeting real quick for you, yeah?”

Sylus kissed the top of your head before letting you lean on his broad chest as he quickly wrapped up the meeting which has gone for over half of the day. By the end of the meeting, Sylus managed to scare everyone in the room except the twins and you who immediately scurried out of the meeting room, not even daring to see Sylus’ eyes or look at you at all.

By the time everyone left, it was just you, Sylus, and the twins in the room. “So, what did you make for us, sweetie?”

Before you could show Sylus, the twins spoke up, apologising for not remembering to tell me that Sylus had a meeting. “We’re sorry boss and miss. We forgot to tell you about the meeting”

You looked at the twins and back at Sylus, worried that the twins were going to get scolded for forgetting but to your surprise, Sylus seemed unfazed and he dismissed the twins’ apology. “It happens. We were all busy. You both were with me during the meeting. I’m not mad that you both forgot or that (y/n) here suddenly came in. I’m more pissed that those fuckers had the audacity to look at her the way they did just now”

“Y-you’re not angry I, I suddenly came into your meeting?” you asked quietly and Sylus looked at you with a smirk, his eyes seemed to be hypnotised by the sight of you looking ever so small in his lap

“How could I ever be angry at you, sweetie? In fact, I much rather you interrupt any boring meeting I have and even accompany me if you’d like. I always love you being close to me and even sit on my lap like this” Sylus smirked, kissing the side of your temple

“You’re so biased, sy. What would your business partners or other men think?” you giggled as Sylus smiled and littered your face with kisses

“Let them see that I’m biased because nothing else matters” Sylus smiled, hugging you closer

“Alright miss, why don’t you just hand us our portion of food you prepared so we can leave the two of you alone” Luke stated making everyone in the room laugh

A/N: if you have any specific requests for Sylus do send me a request or message so I can refer back easily. Thank you for reading and have a great day :) xoxo peanutpinet

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caitified · 12 hours ago

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Can you do a Caitlin fic where reader plays on another team like UConn or another one you like and it’s them dating but they are playing each other then they meet up after the game

jersey

caitlin clark x reader

added my own twist to this, hope that’s okay. warnings:none except for final four trauma for my uconn girls 🥹🫂

it all started back in high school, when you and caitlin met at usa basketball camp for the u17 team. you were teammates for that summer, instantly clicked on and off the court, and since then, it’s been you two—despite the distance, despite the fact that you went to uconn and she went to iowa. it wasn’t easy, but somehow, you made it work. calls after practice, text messages throughout the day, weekend trips whenever you could squeeze them in. it wasn’t ideal, but it was worth it.

then came the final four. the buzz around iowa and uconn facing off was huge, and everyone knew the game would be intense. you tried not to let the pressure get to you, especially knowing caitlin was on the other side of the court. but when it came down to it, iowa won. they deserved it—caitlin had an incredible game, but still, the loss stung deeply.

after the game, you couldn’t bring yourself to text or call her. it wasn’t anger or resentment, just a feeling of emptiness and a need for space. she sent a few messages, checking in, apologizing even though she had no reason to. you read every one but couldn’t find the words to respond. the silence stretched on for days, and you knew she was probably wondering what you were thinking. you felt guilty but couldn’t bring yourself to explain; you needed to process it alone.

as the national championship game between iowa and south carolina approached, something inside you shifted. this wasn’t about rivalry or a game anymore—this was about her. you missed her, missed the ease and comfort you always felt together, and if she was going to play the biggest game of her life, you wanted to be there for her, no matter what had happened in the final four.

the next day, you found yourself sitting with her family, a sea of black and gold around you, and caitlin’s jersey resting over your shoulders. her mom welcomed you warmly, squeezing your hand, and her dad even offered you a bit of comfort in his own quiet way. they knew you were hurting too, but they also saw how much you cared for her.

when the teams ran out onto the court, caitlin’s gaze swept over the stands. it took a second for her to spot you, but when she did, her expression softened, and you could see the relief in her eyes. she smiled, the kind of smile that felt like the sun breaking through the clouds, and you knew she understood what it meant for you to be there.

the game was intense, a back-and-forth battle, and in the final moments, south carolina clinched the win. you watched as caitlin tried to hold it together, accepting hugs from her teammates, but you could see the heartbreak in her eyes. as soon as she was able, she made her way over to the stands. she moved past everyone until she reached you, pulling you down from the bleachers into a tight hug, her shoulders trembling slightly.

“i thought maybe you didn’t want to be here,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“no, i wanted to be right here. i’m always here, cait,” you murmured, holding her close. “i’m so proud of you, no matter what.”

#caitlin clark x reader #wnba x reader #wnba imagine #wbb x reader #wbb imagine #iowa wbb #caitlin clark #indiana fever

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eldrith · 3 days ago

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ғʀᴏᴍ ᴇᴅᴇɴ ; ᴘᴀʀᴛ ғɪᴠᴇ.

ɪ sʟɪᴛʜᴇʀᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴇᴅᴇɴ ; ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴅᴇ ᴏᴜᴛsɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴏᴏʀ

jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader words: 7.0k synopsis: jacaerys fell for something in aegon's garden. chapter warnings: graphic depictions of blood. death, light gore, creepiness, angst, this isn't a very happy story -- angst no comfort. smut (PiV), choking, v brief breeding kink. death. alteration of canon timeline. notes: thank you endlessly to @dipperscavern & @useralba - my muses, my lil ghosties... ily. you've made this whole series happen. & thank u to everyone who stuck around for this series, ive thoroughly enjoyed it n i hope you've enjoyed it too !

series masterlist.

ACROSS THE ISLAND, BURIED DEEP BENEATH THE MOON'S SIGHT, VERMAX ROARS WITHIN HIS NEST.

A shutter of pain, deep and rolling through the volcanic cave; a groan of agony which tapers in a whine of some odd mixture of hungering. Shifting upon felled scales of which more and more rot away each passing eve, Vermax whines, inconsolable and inexplicably agitated.

Dragonkeepers know not how to properly treat such a malady; for the one recorded instance of such an ailment was written in a journal lost to the sands of time and the clutches of madness from a maester long past.

Much too weak to take to the skies, the beast rips into the offered parts of sheep tossed to his depths; and with a stirring hunger deep within, the dragon breathes low and awaits the true feast.

A sweeter feast.

Plumes of boiling breath whisper through the Dragonmont cavern, a heeded admonition to the screeching ravens which flee to the east, towards Aegon’s Garden. They mar the sky in droves; more than two dozen, screaming louder than the rolling sea and darker than the sky itself.

THE SOIL BREATHES BELOW HIM.

It is, at first, merely a deep tremor slipping into Jacaerys’s mind; some forgotten memory in the deafened silence of night, a fuzzy breath of something elsewhere when he sits so very present with you in his lap, the flesh of fruit upon his tongue. A roar so distinct echoes within the thin air high above his mind; up near the Mont - a conspiracy of ravens scream in the night sky above, though it matters not.

For there is a taste so divine Jacaerys has lost all sense; he tremors under your keening sigh, as his tongue presses into the bleeding fruit of the fig, biting down on the salacious flesh and tamping the jolt of his hips as you swirl atop him.

That hunger, what a delicious thing; and you’re all his, he recalls – all his, forever.

You’ve slowed your press of hips against his; indeed, you’ve stilled completely just as his teeth punctured the flesh – and you watch now with a halted, voracious lilt of hunger, cheeks flushed as his own, eyes glinting like opened pits of chasmous desire.

Sweet, cloying – and he feels, as he chews the fruit, your eyes so very piercing upon his lips, watching with some ancient anticipation, some dripping hunger of need.

Slow, a bead of juice drips down his chin; and as your hand falls away, taking the fruit with it, Jacaerys is consumed by a raw hunger to consume.

Heat seeps through him, some spinning, angry beat, but as his hand catches your wrist in an ironed, chilling grip to return the fruit to him in a bout of starved possession, you’ve already leaned forward, catching the juice that slides down the tip of his jaw with your tongue.

You trail the dops as they spill from his lips, coaxing a groan of pleasure from his lips. Shivers slither down his spine at the sensation, a deep hunger unfurling within his gut; and in that moment, your mouth begins to move lower, piercingly cold and yet spurring a ravenous heat that sends his fingers to knot within the fabric of your dress, within the loose strands of your tresses.

Your own palm slides over his chest, raking nails over the exposed skin as the laces untie beneath your wanting grasp.

And soon, your grasp slides up, up – finding a slow, taunting purchase over the bob of his throat, your hips moving slowly as you hum into his flesh and squeeze just lightly in wait.

It is with a flare of arousal he registers your patience; you wait for him to swallow, to feel the fruit as he does so beneath your icy, wanton grip.

And so he does.

Your hand tightens just so a flare of desire sparks with his hunger, his admiration for your soft, supple flesh – such a kind girl, a cursed girl; and he takes what you give him with hungry hands and willing eyes.

His head falls back; the trail of divinity which leaks from the fruit’s taste spreads from his lips, his tongue, to his mind – and soon his chest buzzes, heart galloping as you stir above him, watching with kiss-bitten lips and a dark gaze in the moonlight.

“Gods,” He groans, tongue peeking to swipe over his plush lip, gathering the juices which remain in their glistening sweetness. “Do you- you must feel that?” His sentence is poorly strung and strangled in his crazed ecstasy, brows furrowing as your fingers splay from his throat up to cradle his jaw; and his eyes open once more to find yours lidded and close, peering directly into his soul, breath fanning over his cheek.

“Only you,” You whisper – and by the Gods it is the only thing Jacaerys might hear for the rest of his life; “I only feel you, Jacaerys. I only see you.” You press the words unto his lips and he drinks them up a parched man; his palms tremble upon your hips as he pulls you closer to his warmth – as if he might drown you in such heat, consume you, take you.

It is as if you’ve seen into his mind – Jacaerys feels the wicked grin of yours against his lips, feels the giggle that dies in your throat before it even passes your lips.

A tremble of desire and peril, a whisper between two worlds; and with a tug upon his throat guiding him towards your waiting visage, your lips are slotted once more against his own, the swirling pleasure of the fig’s juice and your own saliva sending jolts of pleasure through him.

His fingers trace the ridges upon your serpented spine – keening hungrily, you let your other hand slide over his tensed abdomen, whimpering into his touch when his teeth graze your lip.

Divine, he thinks. Divine.

The roots below him stir with some life; pulsing, churning over fresh soil and pumping life into the veins of figs plump and ripe above his head; and you, your heart beating with that same rhythm, his own slowly matching it as the pleasure of the fruit within his gut begins to spread. Divine.

It is rather clumsily, frantically that he guides you to tug up your torn dress skirts; your skin glints in a sparkling beauty under the faint light of the moon, and Jacaerys vaguely wishes he were bedding you properly – under a mound of furs, within your marital chambers – dragons dancing within the fabric of your skirts, cheeks flushed with hope to carry his own seed within your belly.

Perhaps a crown upon his head, his hair light and silver as the moon–

It is a jolting thought; one which coaxes, even as your sharp bites mar his skin with presses of cool kisses, a low whisper of memory to his mind. Each drop of spilled blood from the wombs of dragonlords bear the mark of fate.

A glance to his palms, which move to press a thumb at the junction of your exposed thigh and to cup the supple turn of your breast with the other; A curse.

Your lips are sweet upon his skin and he yearns in a way he has never dreamt of – a curse.

His head hits the bark of the fig tree; gazing upon the dappled fractures of moon through the long twisting limbs and swaying leaves, he recalls the story of the moon blossoming, budding the very dragons which slumber across the island in their Mont. What is a curse but the gods’ way of shaping fate into flesh?

Your skin is cooling to his heated cheeks as he presses his hands tighter into you, feeling you; real, alive, willing. Loving, in your lonely, sweet way.

“Jace,” you whisper, pressing your lips to the sharp line of his jaw, trailing down the column of his throat; and he gasps, angling his head sharply to catch your lips in a brutally hungry kiss, one which sends a breath fracturing through your own chest as you press into him, bare and willing and needy against him. “Please, let me have you.”

His jaw clenches in restraint as he restricts a whimper from falling from his wanton lips – though the evening is dark and you are here, tasting of figs and life and love. “Gods,” He moans, pulling you to him impossibly close, without a single care that he’s perhaps been driven mad. “Yes.”

Fingers grasp him frigid and suddenly.

Jacaerys gasps in ecstasy as you move gently, mewling gently against his lips as you guide him further, pulling him under; until every barrier between you and Jacaerys is broken; until you align yourself with him and then sink unto him slowly and with a slight tremored gasp. In fear of movement Jacaerys stills, thumbs tracing your spine and pushing your tresses from your furrowed countenance; a kiss upon your nose, then your cheeks – and you kiss him back then as you begin to rock in a sinful, sacred rhythm that coaxes joint moans from both pairs of lips.

Heat licks over his abdomen in flashes of sharp pleasure; you moaning his name into the quiet of the garden, your name tripping from his lips at each jolt of his impatient, eager hips. Chasing some deep-buried desire and ecstasy, his fingers tremble as they once more find your lips.

Your tongue is icy and gentle, though your teeth nip just so at his skin and he groans into the empty garden, a melodious echo with the sound of your harmony. There is a chilling breeze which spreads through the clearing; in the throes of pleasure, Jacaerys catches a glimpse beyond the soft curve of shoulder, to the faint figures which linger in the outskirts of the shadows.

The statues almost watch; he finds a shiver rolling down his spine, swallowed only by the blossoming pleasure which stirs at your sudden warmth, the presence of you squeezing him, lapping at his tongue, pressing your nails into his ridged, exposed flesh and grinning darkly into the shadows behind him.

His fingers tangle helplessly into the fabric of you, tugging, settling upon your hips and guiding you atop him in desperate need; and you, a picture of blossomed beauty, of devotion, of divinity, of everything above him.

His lips trail over every breath of exposed skin he can find, trembling with desire as the pleasure doubles, tremoring in his heart, spilling words of love from his lips and petals raining from blossomed figs to cover his eyes. A hiss from high above in the limbs of the tree, though you groan loudly; his eyes fall pack onto your figure, shrouded in the moonlight as you glare up at the tree, moving with pleasure and taking it solely from Jacaerys.

That deep possession that’d gripped him since he first met you returns; and with his hands grasping your neck and wrapping around your back he sits up slightly, pulling you with him until you’re seated deep.

With a joint moan of ecstasy, your grip upon his throat slithers; for only a moment, his mind conjures thoughts of a vine coiling around a beating heart, of the turn of rot melting into renewed soil deep below.

A delicious alarm kicks his heart into a frantic leap; and his hips buck up into you in a desperate, languid pace – sending you in a keening moan, coaxing his release closer and closer, the licking heat of pleasure clouding Jacaerys’s mind.

It is with a wild heart and clouded mind he mutters, holding you upon him, moving his hips into your own. “Stay with me,” his voice seeps with desperation; a small leap from the remnants of his despair as he holds you close, that chasmous hunger crawling closer and closer, eyes sealed shut, heat pounding–

And with a soft moan spilling from your lips, your voice hits his ears in a harrowingly calm whisper. “There is no world but this, Jacaerys. I will always be with you.”

It is with a fevered crescendo that Jacaerys finds his peak; hips bucking into you, gasping as your name spills rotten from his bright lips. You follow in suit with a stilled shudder, hand tightening just so upon his throat, thumb searching fervently along his pulsepoint; and a blossoming smile glinting in the moonlight, that dreadful peace he’s made for himself with you.

The night stills only moments later and Jacaerys is left awestruck; a glimpse of something dark and sacred within your lidded, pleased gaze. There is a syrupy glint of saliva and juice upon your lower lip which Jace catches upon his thumb; and with a swift movement, he catches it upon his own lips, humming in the dizzying ecstasy that pulses from the flesh of the fruits looming overhead.

Your hands run through his curls; his trace your spine. You keep him within you, the two of you locked in a tight embrace, until your legs grow tired – you slip off him, his body slowly returning some of the heat lost in your stark presence.

And with gentle presses of your lips upon his, he finds the syrupy coaxing of heavy lids and slow breaths.

IT IS A SHORT WINK UNTIL THE SUN RISES BLOODY OVER THE GARDEN.

It covers him; bleeding streaks of light over his partially unbuttoned tunic as he stirs, lashes fluttering against the oppressive lumination. He uncurls slowly, limbs stretching from reposing once again in the soil; a fragile peace trickles through the garden in such early hours.

Vines hang drooped with the weight of morning dew; petals glisten in their blooms, seeping colour and a syrupy scent through the air as birds chirps far away. A slow breath, one which reminds Jace of the taste of the fruit which lies half-eaten and discarded only a short reach away.

And upon his other side, you – curled against him, lashes fanned over your cheeks, a serenity so unfamiliar and familiar alike in your countenance as your chest rises and falls with the hums of the garden.

Here, it is sacred, your voice reminds him in memory. Names matter not. A soft touch with the back of his hand along your arm, lingering for a moment as his heart clenches; It is only peace, and sweet blooms of eternal summer.

His mind is heavy, weighted as it oft is after a night of too much wine in his cup. Here, the earth feeds itself.

The circle turns.

There is a fullness which feels nearly false; and when he pulls himself free and stands, there is but a mere rustling shift below him.

You are bleary and watchful from below. “You leave so soon?” You wonder – but there is some lilt of amusement, a flicker in that familiar way of a twisting sinister knowing of which he is unaware.

His throat is tight when he nods to you. “I must,” his own voice is far off, cast away in another world. “I’ll return to you.” He promises, though the words crumble to ash and fear within his mouth.

Your eyes flicker and drop when the thought crosses his mind; and with a tight hum, you cast your glance to the statue across the way. “You will.” You agree.

There is a pang sharp and echoing from his mind through his gut; and he forces himself away, unable to withstand the sharp gaze that always seems to see beyond him.

Jacaerys does not recall much of the fickle path which leads through the garden this morning; passing by statues of mourning mothers, of fire-breathing beasts, of an ancient Valyrian High Priestess – his fingers trail gently over the vines which slither across the Maiden statue’s leg, his chest emptier than it has been in a long time.

Fog trickles and swirls around his ankles, seeping through the hedges as vines crawl after him – an eerie calm over his plumed breath as blossoms keen when he passes.

It is not until his palms, fingertips tinged red in the frigid morning frost, push through the iron gates that it strikes him; the weight of memory, of his mother’s words the eve before, of the impending dream that calls to him, whispering of rot, of battles of crumbling statues fought and lost, of gardens burnt to ash and blood.

A rather strange queasiness contracts within his stomach when his feet supplant the frost curling over the wildgrass; his hand rises to his throat, breath shallow – a sharp sensation which stuns him as the air brings shards into his chest.

Dragonstone Castle looms in its gloomy prison of clouds this morning; though the morning light has been tamped, it seems, by some rolling clouds which smother any warmth and leave Jacaerys shivering to his very marrow.

The Maester’s journal lies in the near distance untouched – it is with a bitter resent he retrieves it, knowing no soul besides himself finds themselves the will to venture into this part of the castle.

Fingers tracing the frosted dew along its spine, a strange fear coils around him, settling in his gut and sending his pulse to throb erroneously. He tucks it beneath his arm nevertheless.

A raven screeches overhead, its dark form cutting through the silvered sky as it disappears toward the horizon; just as it sinks, gulls cry – and a dread seeps into his bones.

In a final moment of regret, Jacaerys glances back towards the gates to Aegon’s Garden, half-expecting to see you watching him with that odd lilted bow and the cowering, secretive stare; but there is only silence and the faint rustling of leaves as a low wind stirs and kicks up ash in his imagination.

THE SEAT AT THE HEAD OF THE PAINTED TABLE IS EMPTY.

Jacaerys’s gaze bores holes into it, his head throbbing with the pain of anger, of betrayal, of something rotten, decaying within the back of his mind. There is a sterile sense of emptiness that has begun to penetrate him in this morrow, festering into tight resentment as he glares at the seat.

A twist within his gut; the plunge of a sharpened blade further between his splintered ribs towards his very heart from his mother’s absence. Gone, to Harrenhal, with Addam of Hull – and Jacaerys, left within the cursed skeleton of the island, untrusted, unrecognized.

The base of his skull thrums in pounding agony – the council drones on in voices rising and falling, spiraling towards the stone drum and lilting high into the rafters; and yet Jace waits, gaze sliding with a dreadful ache between the empty chair before him and the windows to the eastern bailey.

There must be some odd draught lingering through the cracks of the old castle; Jacaerys’s skin prickles with cold this morning, an unnatural chill that bites deeper than the breath of cold daylight beyond the walls.

An uneasy shift in his chair, swallowing the dryness within his throat as he actively expels visions of stone and climbing rotted vines spilling in bursts of rotted earth.

The council debates, argues – Jacaerys blinks to focus. Queasiness leaks through him, seeping into his veins and trembling his fingers as he splays them upon the mapped rough of the table before him, focusing on one swimming spot somewhere near White Harbor.

“Jacaerys,” Baela’s voice cuts through the haze; and with a shaky glance to her, he registers the spin of his vision.

A wretched thing – some spiny barbed tail of regret winds its way to puncture his stomach, a vision of the Thorned Dragon curling in on itself as she reaches out, tugging something loose from his curls.

Her brows are furrowed; the room has gone rather quiet, he thinks – pinched between her fingers is one decaying fig leaf, its once glossy skin flaky and peeling away. He watches it pulse slowly, slithering underneath her grasp.

“Did you–” Her eyes glance around before her voice comes in a shorter whisper, one Jacaerys tries to hear amidst the spinning whispers of young laughter and hissing serpents. “Were you outside this morning? You look–” She stops short; a chilling breath in the air as if she’s seeing something unnatural, otherworldly; as if there is more than just that faint sheen of sweat he feels budding upon his pallor, the glassiness of his gaze.

“Jace, you’re–”

But before he can gather his wits to scrape forth some answer, a dull, metallic taste rises; with a sputtering cough, the sound seizes the quiet anticipation of the chamber.

A torture it is as each pinprick of eyes stares at him, his hacking bout of deepening coughs, as the world spins and yet stops at once, as a chilling rain of cold licks down his spine: As a thin trail of crimson splatters onto the edge of his palm, catching in the light, gleaming.

A rich, viscous shine in the morning light peeking through the casements; hunger, some odd and horrifying thing, churns within him at the sight. Blood, glinting as sweet as fig juice in the daylight. His hunger churns in a sickening bout.

“Are you alright, my Prince?” Maester Gerards takes a few wary paces towards Jacarys; it is then that he allows his sight to blearily course over each concerned visage littering the room, searching in some urgent need for comfort: Just to fall onto his mother’s unoccupied chair, his lashline brimming in pain.

He wishes to respond to Maester Gerardys; to explain the strange, chilling cold that winds through his veins – the feeling as though his very blood is thinning, flesh fading beneath the weight of some unseen shroud as tendrils of viney talons grasp onto him and drag him under.

His mouth opens and instead of a meager no, some horrifying gurgle comes instead – and somewhere in the echoes of shadows, someone gasps; it is then he feels it, as his fingers claw at White Harbor’s carved edges – a slow, dark rivulet flowing in a brutal a line down over his lips.

It blossoms quick with crimson blood, but like many things, it rots even sooner.

Jacaerys’s vision is narrowed – with an ache unfurling into a feverish burn that grasps in some ghost of a trail down his throat and into his stomach, a gnawing whisper in his mind tortures his breath: The Garden.

A horrifying burst of energy, a sick waltz that sends his twitching joints jumping; he lurches from his chair as the trickle opens to a river of crimson spilling from his nose – the garden, some pull within his veins scream.

He stumbles, staggering though his legs give way beneath him as he strains to see it; and a chorus of alarmed shouts, the scraping of chairs on stone blurring into a muted roar.

Breathless, a string of metallic viscous saliva spilling from his lips, Jacaerys lies upon the stone cold floor; arm outstretched pathetically towards the window before him, gaze absently fixed upon the only chair at the painted table not overturned in alarm.

Empty as her choice had been.

A rivulet spills into a river over his cheek as his eyes give in to the overwhelming shock of dark; dripping down his face onto the cold stone as your sharp whisper whips through his mind. Dragonlords.

Rotting this world from the inside out.

JACAERYS SURFACES FROM A DREAM THICK WITH DECAY.

He surges in a great, gurgled gasp which startles the man beside him – Maester Gerardys works on a poultice and muddles herbs for tincture at his side. The blurry resurfacing is marred with complete disorientation; the prince feels as though he floats above his mattress, that perhaps his mind floats even higher above that.

“My Prince,” The man sounds relieved; though Jacaerys blinks twisted branches of dead olive trees from his vision, a searing scent of rot clinging to him as his blurred, heavy vision sloshes as ale does in a barrel.

It is his own chamber in which he lies; a scent of incense his mother has favored since she was a child – and he rests resting upon his own mattress, heart beating in a syrupy, frail march; yet nonetheless beating still, as his eyes lull to the open window.

Drawn by some pull, perhaps – there is a flicker of movement down in the greened depths below, some wisp of white fluttering in the breeze, and Jacaerys focuses on it, the thought of you burning upon the fringes of his mind. Gods, he needs you; to see you, to hear your voice, that welcoming cold embrace.

The fig tree looms; an odd observation, as its vision within the garden has long since been marred with fog and distance against straining eyes – yet in his weak glance, Jacaerys sees it clear as crystal. “It’s always in bloom,”

A syrupy remnant upon his tongue – not that divine grace of fig, no – but poppy. Milk of Poppy; with a slow blink, Jacaerys rubs at his tangled lashes, fighting the hazy float of his mind. Maester Gerardys pauses as he muddles some sludged herb – the smell of which is putrid and nearly causes him to wretch. Maester Gerardys follows his gaze with a puzzled stare. “What is, my Prince?”

Jacaerys’s throat tightens in a coiling, sickening dread; though he does not answer, his stare fixed on the tree, its swirling branches waving in the distance. His mother’s hardening glance hits him in a wave of memory – she’s chosen her war, left him to find her awry husband in the Riverlands. Jacaerys swallows down the acidic bile of resentment that crawls up his throat.

"Will my mother return?" He asks weakly, a princeling in need of his nursemaid; but Mester Gerardys presses his lips together in hesitation.

After a moment, he nods. "We've not heard word, My Prince."

He nods, pursing his lips so not as to let them tremble; and a desolate wish, some yearning to instead be not with the old Maester but in your presence. A chill ripples through him after a breath of silence; a rustling sound to his left and Jace turns, breath catching.

Sleek as a shadow – a black cat creeps its way into the chambers, its eyes glinting in a strange intelligence; and an unblinking stare, an eerie stillness – something deep and primal within Jacaerys recoils. The hair upon his neck rises and he tries with much effort to drag himself into a sitting position upon the downed pillows.

It slinks around the curled basin of his tub and Jacaerys is plagued by a deep-rooted shame; of dappled sunlight through olive branches above, of the plush and rich soil that putrifies with acid when rain falls; of a shadow small and youthful, a warbled yelp and a flinch at the sound of thunder clapping above the canopy of the fig’s shade.

It is an invitation, he knows; a sick one, cruel and unusually displayed - though from you or the garden itself, he cannot tell.

A servant enters; her eyes are wide and for a moment Jacaerys wonders if she’s been crying; she sets down a tray of food, grasping the seven-pointed star hanging round her neck. A murmured whisper as their eyes meet; she bows weakly, and Jacaerys watches her disappear into the shadows.

The cat is gone when he looks back.

MAESTER GERARDYS DOES NOT LEAVE JACAERYS’ SIDE FOR QUITE SOME TIME.

He grows exasperated in his muddled state – there is no beauty within such a statement.

It is plain and raw, ugly as exposed roots oozing with blood: Jacaerys is sick.

There has been found no distinct cause as of yet from the maester; it has been whispered of some souring of the blood, an old malady, one which was thought to have been erased from the index of time. Yet still, his soul lingers; throbbing in some rotten movement, Jacaerys waits for Maester Gerardys to excuse himself to retrieve some of his poultice for the head-aches which have plagued Jace even during the best of days – and in this breath of time, there is some horrifying call, some yearning which comes from the very core of him, crawling its way into his mind and infesting his heart.

An instruction to eat lingers in his mind from Maester Gerardys – and there lies the very food brought in by the troubled servant girl, lying in its stale waste; the mere scent of the scones before him, of the stew half-cold, sends his stomach into a lurch.

Agony pulses through him like a poison as he pulls himself from his bed; perhaps his very blood has soured - a shaking hand lifts the spoon to his lips, though his gut churns with a sweeter hunger.

The food is wretched from his mouth before he can merely chew– with horror, he watches the scone crumble into ash, the stew melting into some decayed, rotted sludge which pulses.

The crawling throb of need sears his mind; and a lurch of illness spills a spat wad of bloodied saliva unto the stone floor as he leaves his chambers.

Half-stumbling, half-dragging himself, Jacaerys slinks down the shadowed hall, shallowly sucking air into his chest and concealing his wet, crimson coughs into his trembling arm. There is a pulsing that will not cease; has not ceased since he left the garden this morning; and though there is a whisper in the back of his mind, one which scratches upon the base of his skull, he denies it.

He needs to see you – needs to reach the garden, to feel the pricks of throns upon his pristine skin, to touch something that feels alive.

And it is a sickening thing, some ancient pull, some childhood song sung off-kilter and with a lilt of malicious amusement; a trickle of fear which stirs his hunger further.

Leaves swirl in his vision as he waves the guards off; Ser Marbrand attempts to fetch for Maester Gerardys but with a half-wheeze, Jacaerys insists the Lord will sooner hang from the gargoyles upon the stone drum than he will stop Jacaerys from finding fresh air.

And so he leaves the men behind, cupping his palm to keep the bile at bay; and the hunger consumes him, limping and rotting, vision blotted in the corners; a hunger to find you waiting, blooming amid the fig tree’s weeping branches – to eat, and, perhaps, be eaten.

DAWN FALLS AS JACAERYS DOES.

It might have been a horrible thing, Jacaerys decides as he crawls forwards, halfway past the garden’s first bout of sickly hedges – it might have been a horrible thing, to wish such maladies upon those of his own kin.

And perhaps that is simply what this is: Some sickening punishment, a repentance for the sins committed against those who share his blood – a son for a son, a life for a life. The fruit is rot from the tree of kings; and perhaps that rot will always win out.

His legs gave out just as he'd crossed the first courtyard of the garden; his limbs shake now as he pulls himself with eyes trained unto the earth below; a pounding in his heart that bleeds pain through his veins.

You have not come to his cries of your name; and so that terrifying part of him, that sickness that has laid dormant since the very first time he allowed that juice to press upon his lips; it commands him, it drags him miserably upon his hands and knees towards the tree.

The statues watch with lingering stares.

He can feel their cold shadows dark as omens across his vision; a withered thing looming across the air as lifeless faces watch him with leering grins.

And that air, so thick with the smell of decay and so often masked by the sickly sweetness of blossoms; it leaks into his chest, sending him retching once more into the soil. And yet that desire still churns; What a cruel thing fate is, perhaps, to let his stomach turn in hunger and drown his senses.

Whatever has seeped into the hedges, whatever lurks in the turn of shadows and lingers in the depths of soil in Aegon’s Garden... he knows. It consumes him.

With a last glance back towards the fading vision of the Thorned Dragon’s horns piercing the night sky, he stumbles to his legs and lurches; a wet gasp of pain which yields a sharp bout of coughs; blood paints his hands the dark crimson of his mother’s crown and he allows himself a short sob.

“Hello?” He calls weakly, some half-hoped effort of comfort as he staggers, the earth spinning; vines snag upon his visage, slicing his forehead and yielding another gash of blood to weep from his rotting veins.

Nobody responds.

The Garden shows him mercy just as he collapses; in a shivering effort of hunger and disorientation, he lets his legs give out once more – and Jacaerys collapses onto the earth, tumbling weakly.

His hand lands on a patch of soft, freshly turned soil; and in the dips and sways of his vision, in the sickening scent of festering decomposition, he sees it: A fig leaf.

Clutched and crushed in his spasming fist, he lets out a wet laugh that morphs into a bout of hack – viscous blood comes from him, though as it falls to the earth below, he registers the surroundings.

He lies now upon the other side of the fig tree; it is flatter here, thickly overgrown with rotten, bruised vines and decaying fruits – and beneath him, an overturned earth the very shape and length of himself, some fresh and half-consumed spot from which the tree sprouts.

The truth dawns on him slowly, chillingly — a burial mound, nestled beneath the roots of the tree; damp earth packed with some twisted gentleness, as if it has waited patiently for someone to…fill it.

The acknowledgement is a clawing, grim portent; no graves have been dug on Dragonstone in centuries - indeed it was a ritual seen only before the conqueror found this continent.

Long has passed since the times of burials found the land – yet here it is, waiting, silent, hungry. Lonely.

And perhaps his weak mind plays tricks – or perhaps the garden does – but you suddenly peek from around the tree then, hair hanging low in tresses and your brows furrowed.

Relief bursts in his chest.

You step from beneath the shadows and his heart sings; a fearful lick up his spine at your eyes, flickering knowingly to the plot which he grasps weakly beneath his fingers.

“Jacaerys, my love?” You call as you move toward his curled frame.

Relief flares in him even as the cold attempts to swallow it; there is a fear within his longing, as he reaches for you – though the words in his throat fall dead as something moves in the corner of his eye.

Terror, that old friend, wraps in a coil around his throat; a serpent coils down from the low-weeping branches above, its dark scales of polished onyx in the pale dawn – a patchwork of horror and disgust, Jacaerys takes in the larger scales which fit poorly as though shoved through flesh – a veridian reflection, large as his palm.

Rotted and felled; in the distance, a distinct dragon roars in pain.

Jacaerys is paralyzed, his soul used and weary; he points with a shaky finger though you seem rather undisturbed as you give him that meticulously rehearsed tilt of your head.

The serpent slithers its way up your thigh; some horrifyingly undisturbed look upon your face, even as your dress skirt ruches with it, revealing your marred skin underneath.

A primal fear grips his throat – you stand before him with that glazed over look; a dreamy grin crawling over your face as the serpent hisses in that familiar trickle he recalls from the limbs in the tree.

And it is you:

You, an image of the maiden statue; the serpent coiling tighter until your leg has grown grotesque and purple, yet still you grin so hungrily, so sinister as Jacaerys pushes away with his shaking hands.

“He fears the serpent, too,” you finally murmur into the stagnant air, as if sharing a secret with the earth itself – and your hand, moving along to stroke the head of the serpent which watches hungrily upon Jacaerys’s weak body. “But I’ve told him, the serpent should be the least of your worries, my Prince.”

There is dread which lodges into Jacaerys’s mind alongside an inkling of foreboding knowledge. “Who… who fears it?”

And with a tilt of your head, with a knowing gleam in your eyes, you gesture behind him; Jacaerys twists painfully, wiping blood from his lips.

His heart seizes.

Luke stands just beyond reach, hovering in the hedges – a face pale, eyes wide and tearful, locked upon the serpent with a stare of pure, unfiltered terror.

“Luke-” Jacaerys gasps, hand flying to his stomach, feeling as though his body is emptying, seeping into the soil below. Panic flares in him – and his brother snaps towards his gaze at his voice, their eyes locking.

Tears prick along Jacaerys’s lashline as Lucerys steps back, face crumpling, his voice choked. “Don’t… don’t, Jace,” Luke pleads, trembling as he takes another step away. “Please. Don’t.”

Jacaerys’s heart shatters, his last spark of strength spent in reaching for his brother; voice a thin, desperate rasp so unlike his own. “Luke! Wait–”

But Luke dissolves into the shadows and Jacaerys is crushed wholly by the weight of abandonment. His vision swims, hair tangled with the grasping vines, weak as the ground thrums with a pulse he feels within his heavy heart. And you are gone, in that hazy place of yours – though he calls to you nonetheless.

You look at him, face shrouded with an eerie glint of amusement. He wheezes out a sickly cough, unbothered to wipe the blood which spills — and your gaze traces the drop hungrily.

“I think I’m dying.” He admits weeakly, wishing for nothing else than to come back to you, the true you; the girl with the shy grins, the cold lips, the butterfly lashes and hide-and-seek tendencies.

When you look down at him, the snake sliding to linger over your shoulder; an eternal companion – something lingers. Some hunger, deeper than any he has known. “Life and death,” you muse in a sickening encore of your words spoken not two days past, “are sometimes one and the same, Prince Jacaerys.”

A hot tear slips down his cheek; the final vestige of strength as he chokes on the scent of death which drains him from the earth below. “I love you, I–” He whispers, heart aching and hungry, “...you’re cruel.”

There is much to say; though Jacaerys can feel the blood which has begun to weep from his nostrils, from his mouth; the end is near, and it smells of rotten fruit and damp earth.

But you shake your head slowly, a strange sadness ghosting over your lips; the serpent is discarded as you kneel to the soil beside him, shaking your head – the stains return on your dress in the fading light, and Jacaerys sees them – two long gashes, bleeding heavily upon your stomach and breast; a decay, an eternal decay. “No, my prince,” you whisper, a soft caress over his cheeks as your fingers smooth his tears, mixing them with the trail of his seeping blood. “I am not cruel. I love you. There is no world but this.”

As you speak, the garden seems to hold its breath; And then, with a terrible clarity, the realization settles over him—a revelation that seeps through his bones colder than death itself.

The plot he lies upon is not meant for him — it is already yours.

His gaze locks onto the soil, and he feels the rot beneath it reach out, creeping up his spine with its tendrils of vines and cloying morning glories – Jacaerys reels with a sickening gasp, eyes straining in fear between your calm, serene face and the fig tree, eternal in its bloom.

The roots sprout from it, decaying anywhere it can; roots sprouting from the remains of what once was… you.

His heart pounds, but he cannot look away, his breath quickening as fragments of Layne’s mad warnings echo in his mind. He’s sick; though with a tremble, he blinks at you. And what greater curse is there than to eternally live and yet still to die?

Jacaerys sputters as blood fills his mouth; in a panic, he wishes – he wishes for you.

It is once again as if you’ve read his mind; your lips press into his, and for the first time, you are warm.

Your lips are warm and thrumming with life against his own, blossoming in the slick of spit and tears, of blood and rot, of love and death.

This garden watches; it sows, reaps, sows. Jacaerys clutches you closer until you’re pressed against him, lying within the plot, breaths mingling and shallow, shuttering and warm.

And it is only then he feels as though he can see clearly – each moment, each drop of juice from the fig’s flesh unto his own flashes in his mind in a horror of understanding.

A slow rot, perhaps – from the first time his lips pressed yours to last night, the fig within his mouth. A slow decay, the voice whispers as you pull away from his lips, your own eyes shining with tears – for him, perhaps. Their fate, I fear, is that of slow decay. “We will be together,” You’ve whispered to him – but there is a harsh thrumming, a trembling that has begun in his chest and legs and it has begun to crawl its way to his heart; he cannot speak, he cannot move. Tears are hot as they fall from his unblinking eyes, and you wipe them away with your lips.

Targaryens, Jacaerys thinks as the setting sun kisses the hedges and sends sprawling light over the edge, What a cursed line. Gods among men – but gods do not bleed.

Gods do not rot.

He watches the curve of your smile in his narrowing vision, his lips parting into a sick, gasping circle as he tries to speak. A torture, searching for air he cannot find, for words which will not come.

Again, and again. The circle turns – and then his hands fall limp.

Above, the fig tree looms, its branches heavy with fruit, ripe and bursting; a feast – leaves fall gently and the garden hums with an eerie stillness; a marriage of decay and beauty, of life entangled eternally with the winking, serpentine eyes of death.

Jacaerys watches you – and you watch back as the light leaves his eyes, a wicked smile curving on your lips; your love now bound in the soil, claimed by the roots of the tree.

IN THE HOURS FOLLOWING THE DEATH OF PRINCE JACAERYS, THE SUN DISAPPEARED.

It is said that, having returned to the Prince’s chambers to find the bed empty and a cat curled upon the mattress in search of his body’s warmth, Maester Gerardys alerted the Queensguard to search the castle – though he knew indeed where the young Prince had gone.

It was only moments before the Maester took to entering the gates himself that a deafening roar bellowed from the skies high above Dragonstone Castle, and he hesitated in fear for his life; for the screeching echo of pain and grief grew closer, until it was directly before him.

Vermax, the Prince Jacaerys’s mount quite stricken with scale rot and madness, had taken to the sky with his last bout of will.

The sickened creature, spurred perhaps by his rider's death or by some deep, unknowable grief, circled the tower of his rider’s chambers before dropping to fly low over the cursed Aegon’s Garden.

With no hesitation, the dragon unleashed flames upon the entire stretch of garden; the inferno raged for hours, the charred soil and twisted roots bearing scars that would last for generations still to come, leaving only smoldering ash and a battlefield of crumbled statues in its wake.

When at last the flames subsided, only one relic stood unscathed amidst the ruin:

A statue of a young Maiden, a serpent carved upon her leg; her marbled form defiant and serene against the embers – her face fixed in a knowing, wicked smile.

It was said that the loss of her eldest son drove the Queen near mad, for her grief was doubled; once more, she had a son to mourn and yet no body to lay upon a pyre. No silent sisters could prepare him; no flame to carry her son home, and the sept upon Dragonstone stood empty that day. The Dragonkeepers did not sing.

And thus, it was only Maester Gerardys and a solitary servant who swept the last remnants of Aegon’s Garden into history.

Ash and char scattered to the sea breeze, the gardens of old burned and blackened as they worked silently.

Gerardys, peering over the twisted, rotted remnants of fruit among the vines, sighed deeply and muttered to the servant as they collected what little was left – a journal scarred and burnt, a torn blue crook of a cloak with seahorse embellishments; all atop the one section of soil that remained plush, despite its smoldering vicinity.

Aegon’s Garden was no more.

Rotten fruit, the Maester said to the servant, whose nose was tinged red in her mourning; rotten, from the tree of kings.

The circle turns, after all.

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gem-de-lune · 2 days ago

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Daily Vibe Check 11/6

(Side note, but don't yall think it's funny that the day I said we would get news abt Seunghan that we literally got news abt Seunghan 🤣🤣)

Seunghan Today:

The Wheel + The Hyerophant

He is still in that same energy of accepting what is about to come. There is good luck on his side, and despite not having complete stability he feels stable. He feels good about where things are going. And he is in a good mood.

What is he doing today?

Queen of Chalices + 7 of Swords + 2 of Pentacles

This is serioussssllyyyy sussy. About what I said about waiting around for an answer with a plan? This is it. The 7 of Swords indicates something fishy is afoot here....he is sneaking around doing something?? It seems to relate to the 2 of Pents rather than the Queen. Meaning he is being sneaky regarding a decision' or regarding juggling/weighing some options. I think this pertains to this plan I spoke of previously. With yhe queen the energy is that he is self consoling or being consoled and calmed by another person- or someone is helping him with or through this ongoing event in general.

So sus.

How did the meeting go yesterday?

8 of Wands + 3 of Chalices + the Stars

This is a good omen, the 3 of chalices reminds me of the 3 of pents we pulled for the meeting check in outcome yesterday. Very collaborative and positive vibes, it's a feeling that brings people together for enjoyment. The 8 of wands indicates some rapid movement happening as an effect. If we look at everything in sequence, there is a consensus that rapid movement is under way to celebrate something people have been hoping to hear, to bring it into the physical realm/reality. So this is a very good omen for our cause.

Has the official decision been made?

8 of Chalices + 9 of Wands

I would say yes, it has. There seems to have been a shift in perception for a lot of people who maybe had different conflicting views on the matter of Seunghan's return. As these things were addressed, a change occurred and many disillusioned people saw the light. I think a huge highlight was the protection of artists. With the 9 of wands, we are seeing boundaries being upheld. There is a huge shift in what SM finds appropriate fan behavior- and they are starting to realize what heinous acts they have dismissed as normal reaction up until this point when they are actually harrassment.

Will the Public recieve an answer today?

2 of Swords

Maybe. There is a strategy being thought of in which they are not certain, which will lead to the best outcome. But it looks like they will be weighing them out with their eyes closed, or honestly, pick out the two fave choices and flip a coin. They may make a gamble here. But personally I think no answer today.

When will we get an answer?

2 of Chalices

This bot only indicates the answer may be very good and maybe made in a way that pleases people, but the number 2 pops out. The number 2 also popped out for the 2 of swords....👀👀👀 AND if you remember yesterday's shareholder meeting read- the number 3 for 3 days popped out.....so it may be in 2 days now. But could be 2 hours (i hope). I don't think 2 weeks or months is appropriate.

The "woman" Supporter

A few of yall were asking if this lady:

Was the one on Seunghan's side. I pulled a few cards for this

4 of Chalices + High Priestess

It appears as though she may be involved, but she is not a blind follower or lover of Seunghan's reinstatement. It appears she is thinking about things very logically from her business and role's perspective. So, rather than being a blind advocate, she offered evidence that supported Seunghan's reinstatement.

What exactly did she do?

2 of Swords

Very interestly, it seems she may be responsible for the "plan" we have been speaking about, especially because her roles deal with the global market. I think she has something to do with the ideas and implementations of this plan or how to proceed from here.

No notes today but I hope all of yall over 18 in the states voted today 😠

#astrology #kpop #tarot #riize is 7 #riize is seven #smsupportsbullying #riize #seunghan #anton #eunseok #sungchan #shotaro #sohee #wonbin #bring back seunghan

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twistedminutia · 20 hours ago

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Diasomnia and Selfishness vs Selflessness

Rereading some of Book 7, and it occurs to me how much Lilia, Mallues, and Silver share in their reasons behind their actions, or how they construe their actions as selfless as opposed to selfish.

We’ll start with Lilia, who kicks this whole thing off. Lilia’s initial action is him leaving. First, analyzing the action, it’s extremely abrupt. Lilia gives no prelude, minimal explanation, and doesn’t even seem to acknowledge that it’s sad. He gives no time for anyone to prepare and, in a matter of days, he’s entirely ready to depart his family, possibly for good.

Now, from the perspective of everyone else in Diasomnia, this is devastating, especially for Malleus and Silver who both were at least partially raised by Lilia. His actions are selfish bordering on callous. But for Lilia? These actions are selfless. Lilia isn’t trying to abandon them. He’s trying to spare them. To Lilia, having the people he cares for watch him wither away and die, having to be reliant on them, having to be a burden- he’s trying to spare them that. He doesn’t even want to show sadness, since that might make things harder.

Lilia is attempting to be selfless- he’s trying to minimize the impact of his departure and reduce grief. But by doing so, he’s inadvertently being selfish. By not sharing his sadness, he’s pressuring everyone else to hide their own feelings. By pulling away so quickly, he’s not allowing others to process the loss. By refusing to allow anyone to come with him, he’s taking away a relationship everyone who cares for him. For Lilia, he’s trying to be selfless, but he’s really being selfish- prioritizing his own comfort at the quick loss over what would be better for everyone.

Malleus does something very similar. He characterizes what he’s doing in the dreams as a good thing- a gift. Something he is selflessly giving to everyone. And it’s possible he even believes this. He truly thinks he’s sparing people from pain and suffering.

But he’s still being selfish. He didn’t ask if people wanted this, and, at the end of the day, he didn’t do this because he came to the conclusion on his own. He came to the conclusion because Lilia was leaving and he wanted to stop it. Malleus is trying to use his power to help, but his motives are, at the end of the day, selfish.

And then Silver. People might be protesting he’s never done anything like the other two, but he’s got shades of this as well. Silver’s moment comes when he learns his identity: he’s the son of the Dawn Knight, the person who killed Malleus’ mother. Lilia spared and adopted him, despite considering killing him.

This is the point where Silver plunges into the darkness and considers letting it take him. He frames this action as selfless- he doesn’t deserve his loving family after what his relatives did to them, so he will take himself out of their lives.

But this action is still ultimately selfish, in the same way Lilia’s action is. He’s still denying the people that love him their autonomy (insisting they could not love him when they clearly very much do) and he is also behaving selfishly in regard to their mission- going into the darkness traps Sebek, Yuu, and Grim in the dream and stops them from reaching Malleus, who both needs their help and needs to be stopped. It’s not a malicious selfishness, but it’s there nonetheless.

And then there’s Sebek, who doesn’t engage in any of this nonsense and is more than willing to call people out on it! He calls Silver out, and I’m willing to bet he’ll call Lilia and Malleus out on it as well when we get those confrontations. He breaks the Diasomnia pattern, and does so by being fully and utterly honest with who he is and what he wants.

It should also be noted that Lilia helped raise Malleus and entirely raised Silver, so that plays a part in their tendencies. All in all, the juxtaposition between selfishness and selflessness in Diasomnia is fascinating, and I hope this was an interesting little reflection on how it comes up in the game!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers #Diasomnia #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #silver twst #Sebek zigvolt

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planetpedri · 2 days ago

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idk if you’re hispanic/latino buttttt i NEED a pedri fic based off the song la santa by bad bunny (if you don’t know spanish you can just translate it and it’ll work jst fine) tyyyy i loveee ur work 🫶🫶

La santa — Pedri Gonzalez.

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

Summary: You weren’t supposed to fall in love with Pedri, but it happened nonetheless. You knew what you were getting into when it all started and you both knew despite nothing ever going further than casual, you would always come running back.

Word count: 710

Disclaimer/s: Slightly Suggestive (?) , angst

A/N: OOOOH this song is lowk girl i’m nodding my head thank yew. i also really had no clue how to go about this .. i actually hate it so much sorry this was so bummy

Pedri was dressing quickly. Too quickly. You knew you shouldn’t have even proposed the idea of taking the relationship or… whatever you could call it, further. He always got jumpy when you’d ask for him to stay even a few extra minutes.

You leaned back against the headboard, a frown planted tightly against your lips as you watched him zip up his jeans. “Jesus christ, Pedri. It was a simple suggestion! You’re acting like I told you I was pregnant.”

The mans eyes widen as they shoot in your direction, “you aren’t.. pregnant. Right?” That elicited a loud groan from your lips.

“Oh lord.” You rub your temples before looking back to him. He still wore the same expression, nearly making you laugh as you shake your head. “No! I am not.”

“Thank God.” He huffs, reaching for his t-shirt.

You chew on your bottom lip, suddenly annoyed. “You know what? This has to stop. For good.” He continued dressing like you weren’t even speaking, so you add, “I’m serious.”

Pedri sighs, tugging the shirt over his head. “You said that last week, last month, and matter of fact, two days ago. You know damn well it’s not stopping.” His lip twitches at the corners, a smug grin forming ever so slowly.

That just furthered your annoyance because, unfortunately, it was the truth. It also pissed you off because if he’d just take you seriously and stayed away, you wouldn’t crawl back to him every time.

You’d tried to stop sending him that text or responding to his, but you were weak. Your resistance only lasted about five minutes before you caved. You simply couldn’t stay away from Pedri.

“It’s different this time, and you know it! I can’t wait around for you to feel—“

“Woah!” His hands shoot up, stopping you mid sentence. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Your lips clamp shut and your arms cross over your chest. “Well—“

“Cariño, you know it’ll never be reciprocated. You knew this the second we started the whole thing! Cut the lovey dovey act, I don’t need you doing that because I don’t know how to reciprocate it.” He finishes his rant, running a hand over his face as if the whole conversation was one big inconvenience.

Pedri leaned against the wall a few feet from your bedroom door, antsy for an escape yet also not wanting to leave you pissed off at him.

“This was only meant to be a fun thing.” He adds once the silence became deafening.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you frown. “Why though? Why is it such a terrible concept? You care about a lot of things, a lot of people, why would it be so different?”

His eyes dart to the door, he really needed to get out of here. “You know why. Just.. let’s keep this going and you’ll get over it, no? Why are you trying to mess with something thats fine just as it is?”

You were desperately trying to ignore the way your stomach churned at his words. The more he talked, the more you felt your heart sink. You knew damn well there was no changing Pedri and you most definitely knew better than to even have a sliver of hope.

“You’re right.” You finally force out, “no, yeah. I’m sorry I even thought about it.”

The hurt in your voice was unmistakable. Pedri heard it loud and clear and he almost felt guilty. Almost. But at the end of the day, he’d told you how he felt about relationships at the beginning of it all. He knew and you knew, exactly where he stood.

“I’ll see you when I get back from Sevilla, okay?” Pedri sighs, pushing himself off the wall.

Not daring to look at him, you stay quiet for a moment. A weak attempt at pushing him away, but you were just that. Weak.

“Yeah.” You huff, “make sure you lock the door on the way out.”

Pedri lifts one hand as a parting gesture, but you don’t return it and he leaves anyways. He leaves you feeling like an absolute idiot because you know when you get the text that he’s back in town, you’ll be waiting right where he left you.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, specific or all.

DTS , @halfwayhearted , @spidybaby , @gadriezmannsgirl !

#pedri gonzalez #pedri #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri gonzalez x fem!reader #pedri gonzalez one shot #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri x reader #pedri angst #football #blurb #fc barcelona #fc barcelona fic

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kaiser1ns · 2 days ago

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love it when my fellow pals make deals with humankind. you are the cutest when it comes to temptations, saying how you won't give in but guess what ... you do give in and regret it later! well, i know dear ol' endo likes to make his deals not only to satisfy himself but also to help people like you see things from a different angle. i wish you the best of luck, my little puppet! oh, send him greetings from me when you see him, and now enjoy making deals with the devil.

𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗻!𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗮𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗼 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!��𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

DEVIL ALWAYS TEMPTINGㄑword count :: 9669 ▿ does it matter that the boy you appeared with at the party to make your ex jealous, is actually a demon hungry for deals and human souls. that sounds fun, right?

CHOOSE ANOTHER DIMENSION IN WEIRDMAGEDDON

Friday nights were supposed to be fun and relaxing, you were supposed to be with your boyfriend sitting in front of a mirror, laughing and taking ridiculous pictures as you tried Halloween costumes together. He’d tease you about the silliest ideas you thought of like dressing up as peanut butter and jelly, or Sulley Sullivan and Mike Wazovski. You could still remember how his face lit up with that precious smile when he agreed to be a pirate and you as a siren. But tonight, you were the one drowning in tears of the deep ocean called love.

Instead of brightness and laughter, there was darkness and silence. The only light thing in your room came from the dim glow of your phone screen, showing how late it was, as you lay there on the soft mattress and now the weight of your thoughts pressed you down as hot tears escaped again. You wanted to stop crying, you were hurt and you couldn't open your eyes, you didn't even want to look at yourself knowing how miserable and pathetic you were right now.

Two weeks ago, Umemiya Hajime had ripped your heart from your body with a simple break-up and his reasoning was I’m sorry…I love you but I don’t feel the same anymore. It’s better to end this. We can always be friends, right? Be friends your ass, how can you still be something after everything that happened, after he broke up with you out of nowhere. The big party you'd been looking forward to was creeping up, and you had to show up … with a date. That was the worst part, you had to show up eventually if not with him at least with your friends. They were kind enough and tried to suggest people, but it felt forced and awkward. No one seemed to make a move on you, or they didn’t want to be your “pity date”.

And why would they? You were the one Hajime had dumped, the girl who wasn’t part of the perfect couple anymore. The butterflies were long gone and the pit in your stomach deepened every time you thought about that party, about him.

A big trash bag sat in the corner of your room, filled with reminders of the love that had once been around. Everything he had ever given you—every piece of clothing he bought because he thought you would look so cute, stuffed animals and merchandise, all inside ready to be thrown away. It hurt more than you wanted to admit. It meant so much to you, but you don’t need to keep memories from the past that will only add to this sorrow, and you knew better than to not dwell on the past for too long.

You could almost hear your friends’ voices amidst the chaos in your head telling you to get up, to find someone to go with. They said it was supposed to be fun, but fun was the last thing you wanted to experience as you had no date to go with. No one you knew wanted to go with you anymore because most of the boys you hung out with were Hajime’s friends. So what now? Would you go alone or just stay home? Finding some stranger to be your date seemed equally painful — pathetic even. You don’t know which is worse … going alone or pretending everything is okay. Sighing and letting the tears fall now, sinking deeper into the dark, suffocating from the emptiness as you closed your eyes, hoping that when you opened them, things would be different. But you knew they wouldn’t.

“I’m sick and tired of this.” but you couldn't just snap your fingers and be fine, it just had to happen, unfortunately in the most absurd way. "I hate men." Reaching for your phone you took it as the bright light immediately flashed before your eyes, and it took a few seconds to get used to it. What else could you do now besides watching videos on TikTok and Instagram? As quickly as you open the apps you immediately close them. What on earth is this algorithm showing you tarot readings, heartbroken quotes, and whatnot?

Ugh ... As if the universe wasn’t already cruel enough. You sat up, staring at the ceiling. If only there were a way to escape all of this sadness. Suddenly your phone buzzed because you forgot to turn it off, and a video popped up on the screen, grabbing your attention. It was some girl with bright eyes and a confident smile, talking about shifting and manifesting your desires. It sounded like another piece of nonsense you had seen a hundred times before, but something about the way she explained everything made you watch it till the end.

“But please be careful, okay guys?” she warned, her voice more serious, “If you see a tall black figure, it’s said to be the devil. He’ll want to make a deal with you. Do not look at him and run away. Trust no one.” She laughed softly at the end, maybe to make the viewers less scared by the information she just dropped. But you know what they say curiosity killed the cat. Shifting? Manifesting? A way to control your mind and your reality? You’d heard crazier things. Right now though, you were desperate and had nothing better to do. What else did you have to lose?

Wiping your face from the last tears, you took a deep breath and followed her instructions. Slowly, you calmed yourself, your breathing became even as you focused on the mental images she described. First came the colors—shimmering blue hues like the ocean, soft pink like the cherry blossom, and glowing golds. Then, shapes, doors, corridors, and rooms that were upside down twisted in the most impossibly and inexplicably ways.

No, wait. You were dreaming. Your mind was creating all of this. It felt strangely lucid, as if you were half awake, half asleep in this vivid and colorful dream world. The corridors around you stretched out, leading to endless doors, each different from the last. But one door stood out from the rest. It was black, with tints of teal and all kinds of symbols drawn—triangles, stars, Roman numerals—it was like the graffiti that you see in town every day.

Without thinking, you walked towards it, your hand reaching before your mind could catch up. It’s just a dream, right? Nothing can hurt you here.

The door cracked open, revealing a large living room. The walls were adorned with paintings, most abstract as they gave more life to the black and white furniture. A massive couch sat in the center, inviting but oddly out of place. You stepped inside, scanning the room and on the nearby table, papers were scattered everywhere, filled with drawings. Picking one up, noticing how detailed it was. A wolf and a cannon and the word Frank stylized under it. Every line and stroke was done to its perfection, maybe the artist poured their soul into the work.

But just as you were about to check another one, something snatched the paper from your hand. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up. A big mistake.

There it was. The black figure.

It loomed over you, tall and shadowy, no face or nothing. Its form is undefined and menacing. You couldn’t make out a face, the presence was enough to freeze you in place. Panic made its way through you and you bolted towards the door. Run. You have to run and get out of this place. Oh, no. The door is locked and it doesn’t want to open, no matter how hard you pull the handle. This is just your dream. You can change it. You can control it.

Stopping dead in your tracks, closing your eyes. A big, fluffy cat, you thought. That’s what it should turn into. Something harmless.

When you opened your eyes, the black figure hadn’t turned into a cat. Instead, standing where the shadow had been was a boy. He looked about your age, his skin covered in tattoos—the same symbols that are drawn on the door, now etched across his arms, neck, and even fingers. His black curly hair fell slightly into his eyes, and he wore a sleeveless black tank top, a checkered jacket thrown over his shoulder, and dark pants. He looked completely normal, and even reminded you of the famous singer you adored.

“It's rude to come uninvited, you know?” he didn’t even look at you as he organized the drawings, which you assume were his. “It’s even more rude to stare at someone. Cat got your tongue, doll? You don’t like it here?”

You swallowed hard when you heard his voice. It was calm but had that teasing tone, almost mocking you in some way but at the same time it was nice, it wasn’t impolite. You wondered what to say, how to answer this mysterious person, and all that came out was a weak whisper. “I… I didn’t mean to …”

He chuckled slightly, leaving the stacked papers on the table as he looked over at you and you closed your eyes. Do not look him in the eyes, do not open them at any cost. The black-haired male raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Don’t be shy now. I was thinking of making changes to this place anyway. Do you have suggestions?” His eyes were sharp, piercing through the haze of your dream but you stayed quiet, nails digging into the palms of your hands. “What a pretty and sweet thing. Come one, open your eyes. I don’t bite…” Your heart pounded in your chest when you felt fingers under your chin tilting your head up. “Unless you want me to.”

You realized that, somehow, this boy wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. He was and felt very much real. He turned your head slightly, you couldn't see him but you could feel his eyes on you, lingering, waiting. What’s happening? You wanted to look, you wanted to see him again. You wanted to ... Then why don't you do it? It's just a fantasy, a dream. There is no logical explanation for what we dream, it just happens.

You were imagining all sorts of horrors the boy could unleash, but instead of something terrible, you were met with an unexpected warmth. Slowly, almost unwillingly, you peeked through your lashes. There he was. Not menacing or cruel, but sweet. Warm. His blueish-teal eyes were soft as they locked onto yours, the light in the room reflected in them. His features were sharp, but not harsh, with the kind of effortless charm, the perfect balance between beauty and mystery that made your heart about to burst out of your chest. Is this the man of my dreams? You weren’t sure, but the longer you stared, the more your world started to turn upside-down, the more you felt the dizziness.

“Hi,” he finally said, his warm smile morphing into a devilish grin, and your stomach dropped. “Took you long enough, angel. Making eye contact is important when you meet new people.” He tilted your chin up with his hand, making sure your gaze stayed on him before letting go, running his fingers through his tousled black hair as he casually walked to the couch.

He sat down with his legs straddled, sinking into the cushions like he owned the place, his confidence radiating. With a lazy wave of his hand, he motioned for you to come closer. But you stayed pressed against the door, unable to just go to him like you were the best of friends.

“Who are you?” you blurted out, voice shaky. Your back stayed glued to the door, not ready to take any steps forward just yet. “And why are you in my dream?”

For a moment, his expression shifted. It wasn’t a surprise, more like he was amused as if he expected you to ask this but still found it entertaining. He raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the couch.

“Who am I?” he echoed, tapping his chin like he was deep in thought. “Well, I’m a single lady waiting for someone to put a ring on my finger.” You blinked, staring at him in confusion. Was that supposed to be funny? He looked at you, expecting a reaction, but you just gave him a blank stare.

“Not funny?” He tilted his head, his grin faltering. You shook your head, still baffled. The corner of his mouth twitched as if suppressing a laugh, and then he shrugged it off. With a snap of his fingers, the click echoing in the quiet room, you were no longer by the door. You were sitting right next to him. "I'm many things, I can't tell you exactly who I am." he wrapped his arm around you pulling you closer to him, and you felt the warmth of his body.

Every time you blinked different types of food and drinks appeared on the table in front of you. You were very confused and still had no answers to your questions. It's just a dream, you tried to convince yourself, but you couldn't concentrate with the stranger’s hand on your shoulder. "And can I know your name so that I can take your sou–” he paused before clearing his throat and giving you a slight squeeze. “I mean soup recipe! I have been dying to try new things, so hopefully you can help me out.”

You glanced at the table again, more confused than ever. Soup recipes? This is ridiculous. But… maybe ridiculous was exactly what you needed right now. Slowly, you began to relax, letting the strangeness of the situation wash over you. Nothing bad can happen. It’s just a dream.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, testing how it felt to reveal something so simple. “And… well, is that even the right thing to tell someone new?”

“Shoot,” he replied, not missing a thing as he casually got a piece of cake from one of the plates. He took a bite, chewed a little loud, then held the fork towards you, offering a taste. You hesitated but then leaned in, accepting the bite. The cake melted in your mouth, unexpectedly delicious. I will do it, I guess? It wasn’t that bad, free food and a hot stranger. It was nice indeed.

You swallowed, and before you could stop yourself, the words came tumbling out. “So… my boyfriend, well, now ex broke up with me. And I just feel so… ugh!” You groaned, waving your hands in frustration. “I’m sad and angry and… just everything. He lost feelings? Like, what does that even mean?!”

His eyes widened, and leaning in slightly. “No way!” he gasped, playing into your exasperation as he talked with a full mouth. “Is he for real?”

“Yes!” you blurted, grateful for his dramatic reactions. “For real! He said he lost feelings out of nowhere and just ended things. It’s like I don’t even know what I did wrong! How do you just lose feelings like that?”

He made a face, shaking his head. “Do you want him to lose his mouth so he can stop with the bullshit?” You blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion, though there was a part of you—maybe a very small, vengeful part that found the idea almost tempting. “No, I mean… is that even possible?” you asked, your curiosity rising despite yourself.

He grinned, leaning back into the couch now drinking from a cup that you were not sure if it was a real skull or not. “Sweetheart, look around you. Everything is possible.”

You took a breath, looking around at the room that constantly shifted and changed with every blink of your eyes. He wasn’t wrong. Everything here feels possible. You shook your head lightly, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“So…” you began, narrowing your eyes slightly. “If everything’s possible, does that mean you can finally tell me who you are?” You leaned in, feeling more comfortable now. “It’s only fair, right? Sharing is caring.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze flickering with that same mystery. “Fair enough.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you and suddenly the atmosphere changed, you could feel the tension. “But where’s the fun in giving away all my secrets so soon?” Glancing at you again, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe you’ll figure it out. Or maybe…” He paused, his voice lowering into something more suggestive and dangerous, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready. Either way, angel, you’re in for a ride.”

Was this boy real? Or was he just another part of this wild, impossible dream?

But for now, you didn’t care. Something about him made you want to stay in this dream, even if just for a little longer. You trusted him, but at the same time, would you really trust someone who doesn't exist? They say that a person you don't know, but just passed by can appear in ъоур dreams. It must be that, but why was it all so ... real? His touches, the taste of food, reactions, and feelings.

“You’re no fun,” you teased, rolling your eyes as you reached for another bite of the various cakes displayed on the table. But before you could take it, he laughed and it wasn’t a genuine and comforting, more like a mocking laugh. “We’ll see about that pretty soon,” he said, his grin widening.

Suddenly, everything vanished. The food, the room, him…all of it blinked out of existence in an instant. You gasped, finding yourself surrounded by pitch-black darkness. There was nothing but silence, your own breath echoing in your ears. Where did he go? As you stood there, frozen in time and nothingness, trying to make sense of it all.

But then, just as quickly as the darkness came, you blinked and opened your eyes—this time, for real. Your room greeted you with its familiar shadows and the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains and shining upon the many posters of your favorite band on the walls. You were back in bed, breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. Sweat clung to your skin, your hands trembling slightly.

It was just a dream. Nothing more, you told yourself. You inhaled deeply, letting the cool air calm your nerves. It felt so real, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t have been, you wanted it to be. The nameless boy who gave you the attention and comfort you sought and longed for.

You shifted under the covers, pulling the fluffy blanket closer to your body, sinking into its warmth. The tension began to go away as you reassured yourself again. Just a dream. A strange one, but still… just a dream. Relaxing fully, you let your eyelids grow heavy, your mind slowly drifting off once more, feeling peaceful and safe in your own world.

What you didn’t know, however, was that you weren’t alone.

As you slipped into a deep slumber, a presence quietly joined you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close into a snug embrace. You felt the warmth against your back, but it was subtle, comforting enough that it blended into the haze of sleep. Fingers gently traced through your hair, playing with the strands, and a soft whisper tickled your ear.

“Good night, doll.” the familiar voice murmured, but you didn't hear or feel him because he was no longer a fragment of your imagination, but a real person...at least for what he would present himself to be.

And then you drifted off into the deepest, most relaxed sleep you’d had in weeks, unaware that the stranger from your dream had followed you into your reality.

The next morning, the first thing you felt was warmth—an unusual, comforting heat that made you snuggle deeper into your blankets. Your face nuzzled against something soft but firm, and without thinking, you wrapped your arms around it, sighing contentedly. You had no intention of waking up. It’s Saturday, no need to rush.

"Good morning, sunshine." the voice was sweet and teasing, as you let out a sleepy groan, burying your face further into what you assumed was your favorite plushie. “Mmm, five more minutes…” you muttered, your voice muffled by the warmth. You squeezed tighter, expecting to feel the familiar softness of your stuffed animal. But instead, your fingers brushed against something warmer, something that wasn’t soft cotton or fabric—skin.

Your eyes shot open, heart pounding as you jolted upright, realizing that what you were holding wasn’t a plushie but a human body. You gasped, scrambling back and tumbling off your bed with a loud thud on the cold ground, trying to piece together what was happening.

A head poked out from the top of the bed, black curls and teal eyes sparkling with nothing but playfulness. It was him—the boy from your dream last night, the same one you were sure had only existed in your imagination. But now he was, in your bed, looking down at you with that familiar devilish grin.

“I thought I was supposed to fall for you,” he said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “But apparently, the roles are reversed.” He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying your reactions and how he could smell the fear and panic. Your heart raced in your chest as you opened your mouth to scream, but before you could make a sound, he snapped his fingers. Instantly, your voice was gone, leaving you mute. You clutched your throat in horror, your mouth still wide open, but no sound came out. You tried again—nothing.

He leaned over the side of the bed, looking down at you with a smug expression. “Be quiet now, angel,” he said, his voice low and calm. “I don’t want you screaming…not yet.”

Your mind raced, thoughts going from point A to point Z. Who is he? How is he here? What is he? You crawled backward, pressing yourself against the wall, eyes wide with fear. He watched you, his head tilted slightly, clearly enjoying your reaction because to him this was just another game with humankind. He loved it when they showed fear, how afraid a person can become when they see him out of nowhere. It was priceless, the reactions and the emotions. You should see your face, he can’t stop staring at it.

"I know you have questions," he said casually, stretching his arms as if waking up from a peaceful nap. "But we'll get to that in a moment." He paused, looking around the room and how you decorated it, he will take some inspiration to his own if you don't mind. "First, let's make sure you didn’t hurt yourself with that fall, okay?"

With another snap of his fingers, you felt your body lighten. The fear that had gripped your chest was starting to leave, and though you still couldn’t speak, the panic was slowly being replaced by confusion—and maybe curiosity. You looked at him, trying to make sense of everything, but nothing added up.

"Better?" he asked, leaning back on his elbows, clearly far too comfortable in your bed. Managing to nod slightly, though your mind was still racing from the supposed dream to this pleasant morning surprise. Just what exactly was going on?

"Good. Now, let’s have a little chat, shall we?" he said, flashing you that grin again. You stood up and didn't sit on the bed next to him, but on the chair in front of your desk, pointing to your mouth, showing him that you really can't talk “Oh, yes. Sorry, doll.”

Watching him move around your room as if he belonged there. Every gesture, every glance he gave you made the air in the room feel heavier. His presence was suffocating, yet alluring in a way you couldn’t explain. He walked like he had always been there, but when he turned to look at you, it was as if he already knew what you were thinking—like he had known you for far longer than just this dream.

"So you want to make that jerk jealous, right?" he asked, his voice casual but sharp enough to pierce through your thoughts. You didn't answer right away, instead staring down at your hands as you played with your fingers. “Eyes up here, darling,” he commanded, and despite not wanting to, your gaze lifted to meet his. It felt unnatural like some kind of spell was pulling you in, forcing you to obey. The moment your eyes locked with his, you felt that strange magnetic pull again, something dark yet engaging about him.

“I do… yes,” you finally answered, your voice quieter than you intended, because something was unsettling about how easily he was reading you, how he seemed to know your desires before you even thought about voicing them.

"And you want me to help you with that," he continued, circling you like a predator eyeing its prey, his smirk never faltering. "But, of course, you know that I’ll want something in return." His tone was teasing, yet you could sense the serious undertone that followed. You stared at him, swallowing hard. “My soul right?” you asked, knowing full well who he was by now—though you were still processing the absurdity of it. Making a deal with the devil was a gamble and usually, the mortals always lose.

"Straight to the point. I like that. A bit impatient, but we’ll work on that." He chuckled, his fingers trailing over the objects in your room touching every piece of your life. His eyes flicked over to your wall, landing on a particular poster. It was of a musician you had a bit of an obsession with—tattoos, piercing on his eyebrow and mouth, the typical bad-boy image.

“The dude with the tattoo sleeve on the poster. You like him, huh?” he asked, turning his gaze back to you. Your face heated, embarrassment rushing over you. It was awkward enough to have a stranger in your room, but a boy commenting on your obsessions? That was a whole new level of awkwardness.

“Yeah, but what about it? You think you can pull off looking like him or something?” you fired back, your tone slightly defensive as you crossed your arms.

His grin grew wider, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Even better, sweets. Even better.” And with a snap of his fingers, you found yourself pressed against the wall, his body close, caging you in. Your heart raced as you stared up at him, your mind spinning at how effortlessly he had shifted reality.

“Let’s make a deal,” he whispered, his eyes flashing a deep, unnatural black, and for the first time, you noticed the small horns beginning to grow from his head. A black tail curled around your leg, sending a chill through your body. “I’ll be your boyfriend for the party, and you…” He leaned in, so close you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. “You’ll pay me back when the time comes. Don’t worry about it.”

You were both stunned and terrified, his presence overwhelming as his words echoed in your mind. Was this even real? Could you trust him? The truth was, you knew the answer already. You couldn’t trust the devil. But the temptation was there, and it made you desperate to unfold it and take it.

“How can I trust you?” you whispered, your voice shaking. His head rested on your shoulder as he chuckled softly against your skin, the vibration making goosebumps appear as you tensed at his sudden physical affection.

“My little puppet… wait, that’s not my line,” he murmured, the grin evident in his tone as he lifted his head to meet your eyes again. “My sweet doll, I can do things you wouldn’t even dream of. With a snap of my fingers, I can teleport you to the future, change the present, twist the past. I can give you everything you want.” His words were hypnotic, each syllable wrapping around your thoughts, making you wonder—what if?

It was true, everything about him screamed power. And you knew you deserved better than what your ex had given you. But this? Making a deal with the devil himself?

"You know you deserve better than that scumbag," he said, his hand grazing your cheek. "So, my offer stands—I’ll be your date to the party, and when the time comes, you’ll pay me back. Simple as that." His eyes glowed as he leaned closer, the danger in his smile was more than just a warning.

You took a shaky breath, trying to think rationally, but it was hard with him so close, his offer so tempting. "You know about the party? How?"

"I told you, I know everything." He stepped back slightly, giving you room to breathe as a swirl of blue flames danced in his hand. His grin widened as if he could sense the battle raging inside you. He stretched out his hand, the flames flickering and welcoming you.

“Deal or not?” He needed to convince you because you were perfect and he loved when girls turned up to him for help, especially with their love lives. But the thing is you never searched for him, you just found him on accident and that to him was something new. This never happened before, he was always summoned but seeing how scared to how comfortable you could get with him in seconds ... He wanted to have you all for himself.

You stared at his hand, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. This was a perfect opportunity, but was it right? You wanted to show up with a date, and you did want to take revenge. But you have morals, at least you thought you did. If Umemiya can't love and satisfy you then another man will. And yet…what would the cost be?

But before you could stop yourself, your hand was in his, shaking it.

"Endo Yamato, pleased to date you," he said with a sly grin. The blue flames also engulfed your arm and you expected them to burn you, but they were surprisingly warm and didn't cause any pain. Looking around you saw most of the objects were in the air, you were also levitating until the flames disappeared and everything fell into place.

"Y/N is everything alright?" your mother's voice echoed as you heard the footsteps approaching. Still holding his hand and panicked because, in a few seconds, your mother would see you with a strange guy in your room. What would she think, finding you and him? Surely, she’d freak out.

"I-I..." you looked at Endo expecting him to help you but he just grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos, making you sit back down on the bed as if nothing had happened. He, however, took a seat at your desk, turning on your computer and launching a random game as if he’d done this a thousand times before. It was disturbingly domestic like you were truly a couple who had just spent the night together again.

The door opened, and instead of the explosion of anger you expected, your mother greeted you with a warm smile. She walked in with a plate of cake. "Oh, Yamato! What a pleasant surprise, I didn’t know you were staying over." She didn’t even blink at his presence, as if he had always been a part of your life.

Your heart nearly stopped. How did she know him? You stared at her, mouth hanging open, while Endo merely smiled, leaning back in the chair with waving his hand, pausing the game he finished in milliseconds, and it took you a whole week to do it.

"Good morning, ma’am! Y/N told me you make the best cake. Figured I'd stay and have some," he said, and you could almost hear the teasing in his voice. Your mother chuckled, completely unfazed. "Well, I’ll get another plate for you then. I’ll be right back." She turned and left the room, leaving you in a dead silence.

The door clicked shut, and you quickly turned to him, eyes wide. “What the hell just happened?”

Endo didn’t look concerned. If anything, he looked pleased with himself. "Relax, sweetheart. I just adjusted things a little. In your parents’ minds, I’m your new boyfriend. They know me, they like me. I even got your mom to bake me a cake. Now that is what I call power." He winked, leaning forward in the chair.

"You… you messed with their minds?" you stammered, scared of how much he messed up with their minds and you hope he only did that and nothing else.

"Yeah.." He stretched his arms lazily getting up from the chair. "Now I exist to them. To everyone who matters, I’m your charming boyfriend, Yamato. And no one will think twice about us going out together or hanging around. I made myself part of your world."

You sat there, heart racing, trying to process it. It felt like you were in some type of movie, in Wonderland but after everything else—the dreams, the flames, the deal—it was hard to deny. He really was in your life now. And worse? He was making himself comfortable.

"So," he continued, his eyes sparkling with what you want to think of was the life he took from you, "how about we go shopping for those Halloween costumes? I want to make sure we’re the best-looking couple at this party."

You blinked, trying to shake off the lingering shock. “Costumes? Already?” He grinned, standing up from the desk. "Why not? You want to look perfect, right? And I’ll be the perfect date. Trust me." You hesitated, but part of you, maybe the reckless part, was curious. This strange, devilish boy had thrown your life into chaos, but he offered something hard to resist: a way to take control, to show up at the party with someone who’d make your ex regret everything.

"Fine," you muttered. "But, I need to get dressed first."

"Sure," he said, not moving. Instead, he leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, and didn’t mind if you changed in front of him. But you did mind because you wanted your privacy, at least whatever you can call alone time now.

"Please get out!" you repeated, voice more forceful this time, pulling your shirt halfway up your stomach before realizing he wasn’t leaving. His gaze lingered, his lips curling into a smirk. He was like a snake, a beautiful but venomous snake ready to strike you down anytime. "Why? You’re my girlfriend now. You shouldn’t be shy around me," he teased, his eyes trailing down to where your skin was exposed. The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, made your stomach flip.

You flushed, face hot with embarrassment and frustration. Grabbing him by the sleeve of his jacket, you marched him toward the door. “Go eat some cake while I’m getting ready,” you muttered, pushing him out. Endo chuckled, hands raised in surrender. “Alright, alright. But don’t take too long, doll. We’ve got a date to plan.” He shot you a wink before disappearing down the hall.

You closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a deep breath. What have I gotten myself into? You couldn’t deny the thrill, but the danger was just as real. Endo Yamato wasn’t just some ordinary guy—he was trouble in every sense of the word. And now, he was your devilishly charming boyfriend.

Was this the biggest mistake of your life? Maybe. But there was no going back now. With one final look in the mirror, you shook off the nerves. If anyone could make Umemiya Hajime regret breaking up with you, it was Endo Yamato. And you will embrace your new life, whatever it offers you will take it. You just signed a deal with the devil, so take advantage of the luxury.

The mall was full of people as ever, the noise of chatter and music echoing in the background as you and Endo wandered through store after store. His hand was warm in yours, firm, yet oddly comforting despite the strangeness of everything that had happened. It had been his idea to treat you, to buy you something nice, and while the gesture was sweet, it left you feeling... a bit out of place.

You stood in front of a full-length mirror, dressed in a short white dress that hugged your figure in ways you weren’t used to. Your boyfriend stood behind you, watching with a satisfied smirk as you hesitated, his reflection staring back at you. He held a few more clothes in his arms, ready to spoil you with more options.

"You look so good," he said, his voice soft but confident. He reached out and held up the same dress in different colors. "There's also a pink and blue one. Which do you like more?" But instead of picking, you just stared at yourself, a sadness creeping over your features. You weren’t used to wearing things like this. It fits you perfectly, accentuating curves you usually hid beneath looser clothing. When you were with Umemiya, he never cared what you wore—he let you stay in your comfort zone, never pushing you to try anything new. Now, here you were, feeling exposed and unsure, your usual self-confidence slipping away.

Endo noticed immediately. He glanced at you in the mirror and saw the doubt on your face. His smile faded slightly, replaced with something more thoughtful, "What's wrong?" You hesitated, still looking at the reflection instead of him. “I’m just… not used to dressing like this,” you murmured, “What if people stare at me?”

Ah, so that was it. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his grip on the clothes tightened as he processed your words. He could tell you were beautiful, no matter what you wore, but he also understood. You were stuck in a box, never exploring past the boundaries you’d built around yourself. You deserved more than what you’d allowed yourself to have. He had something in mind for that.

He turned to you, his expression more serious now. “I’ll be honest with you,” he began, stepping closer so you could still see his reflection standing tall behind you. “No one’s going to care. And if they do stare, let them. Who are they to you?”

His words hit hard. You looked up, meeting his eyes in the mirror, and they were trying to convince you. "Nobody," you said softly, realizing that he was right. The people out there, the strangers, their opinions didn't matter. But still, that nagging self-doubt clung to you.

Endo’s gaze softened as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder, turning you slightly to face him. “You can’t let yourself stay trapped in this comfort zone forever. If you do, you’ll keep missing out on new things, new sides of yourself you haven’t even discovered yet.” He was deadly serious now, his tone steady. “You’re beautiful no matter what. But you deserve to see how much more there is to you than what you’ve been hiding behind. So don’t let anyone, not even yourself, make you feel less.”

You sighed, your eyes flickering between him and the clothes he was holding. You knew he was right, but stepping out of that comfort zone was easier said than done. Still, something about his words made you feel… braver. You could take that step, even if it was small. Finally, you took the clothes from his hands.

“I won’t even try them,” you said, suddenly resolute. “I’ll just buy them.” Endo’s lips curled into a proud, satisfied smile as he watched you head back into the dressing room to change into your original outfit. When you emerged, his eyes lit up, and he couldn’t hold back a wide grin. "Now, that’s my girl."

You smirked back, feeling lighter than before. “You’re paying, though.” He laughed, seeing how he provoked you into doing something so simple. “Of course, doll. Anything for you.”

As you walked together to the cashier, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but feel like things were changing. Maybe Endo was right—maybe this was the start of something new, a side of yourself you hadn’t known before. Whether it was him or the situation, you weren't sure yet, but you knew that stepping out of your comfort zone felt a little less terrifying. Having the devil as your boyfriend was an experience of its own: both thrilling and exciting, and you couldn’t wait to see Umemiya’s reaction.

After Endo paid, the two of you walked out of the store, your hands weighed down with at least three shopping bags filled with clothes that were far beyond your usual style. You felt strange and satisfied yet guilty at how much you bought. But somehow, that discomfort that had followed you earlier was fading. Maybe it was his influence or the fact that he had pushed you out of your little box, but the worry was no longer coming at you.

The devil walked beside you, his hand still casually intertwined with yours, his other hand holding his bag from one of the stores where he insisted you pick out something cute because spoiling you was part of his fun. He is your boyfriend, it's his duty to make you feel good and enjoy yourself.

"We’ve got you new clothes," he said, glancing down at the bags swinging by your side. “Now, for the Halloween costumes... What do you want us to be?"

You hadn’t even thought about the party since all this craziness started. But Halloween was coming up in just two weeks, and you needed to decide. The two of you made your way to a nearby Halloween shop, the sound of spooky music and the bright displays pulling you inside. You wandered through the aisles, surrounded by racks of costumes and props…You were not using the costumes you bought with Umemiya, totally not. So it’s time to think of something new.

“Maybe something simple?” you suggested, looking through the shelves of cheap costume accessories. Your hand landed on an angel halo and some flimsy white wings. You held them up and smiled, “I could be an angel.”

Endo raised an eyebrow, “How fitting,” he said, voice laced with irony as he reached up to pat the small horns protruding from his head. “You know I don’t need a costume, right?” Somehow, you forgot what happened in the morning and how he turned into his true form with horns and a tail, wrapped around your leg. Good for him, because he can pretend they are real unless someone wants to try them on. Oh, well that’s a problem for the future.

“Right, you already come with the horns and tail. Guess we’re going as the classic angel and devil couple, then.” You tossed the wings and halo into your basket and turned to see him eyeing some fake devil horns hanging on a rack. He glanced at them before shrugging. “I think I’m good,” he said, pointing to where his horns were supposed to appear. “I’ll just wear what I’ve got.”

Once you had everything you needed, the two of you left the store, the cool evening breeze hitting your face as you walked out of the mall. It was such a good day today. Going towards the parking lot, Endo stopped for a second, turning toward you and before you could ask what he was up to, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as warmth flooded your face, your cheeks burning bright red. The butterflies you thought had long since died after Umemiya’s betrayal? They were very much alive now, fluttering like crazy in your stomach.

He pulled back, his smirk widening as he took in your reaction. “You’re blushing,” he teased, eyes full of satisfaction. You couldn’t deny it, the heat in your face said it all. “I-I’m not!” you stammered, trying to play it cool, but the way your voice wavered gave you away completely. You know this boy for not even 24 hours and he is already making you feel like this. It’s the magic, most definitely you will blame it on his magic.

“Sure, angel,” he said with a chuckle, wrapping his arm around your waist as you both made your way back to the car. “But I think I’m starting to grow on you.” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, letting out a small sigh as you rested your head on his shoulder. Maybe this wasn’t going to be the biggest mistake of your life after all.

“Wait, hang on…” you asked removing your head from him as you looked at him, because why are you in a car, and not at the bus station? “We came with the bus, how do you suddenly have a car? And so much money?”

“Less questioning, more watching the pretty sunset.” his hand gently turned your face to the window to watch as the sky was tinted with pink and yellow hues, making you forget about everything as he stepped on the gas. Maybe deals with the devil don't sound so bad after all.

It was October 31st—Halloween night. Ever since Endo had stepped into your life, he had turned everything upside down. He wasn’t just the devil you made a deal with, he had become the best boyfriend you had ever had. He was doting, caring, and spoiling you beyond measurements. One night, while your parents were asleep, he teleported you away to Paris to have croissants under the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower. Another time, you skipped school just to marvel at the Sistine Chapel together. Whatever you asked for, you’d get. But you were careful not to ask for much because the payment would escalate quickly.

The magic wasn’t just about the exotic trips. Endo made you feel more confident, you were finding yourself in ways you hadn't before, and he loved watching you fly with your new wings. He encouraged you to push boundaries, be bold, and stand up for yourself. It wasn’t just a Halloween costume you were slipping into tonight; it was a new version of yourself, and you could tell he was proud of that.

Tonight, though, he was being extra annoying, and was testing your patience. Standing behind you in the bathroom as you applied your makeup, his tail had found its way around your waist again, tugging you close as you tried to focus on getting ready.

“Yamato, I told you to stop wrapping your tail around me,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm as you swiped the red lipstick across your lips, making a satisfying pop sound. Pulling away from the mirror, examining your reflection. The white dress, the halo perched above your head, the wings—it all screamed angel. But what kind of angel were you really? A fallen one perhaps.

He grinned, his sharp teeth peeking through as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Can’t help it, angel. You’re stuck with me.” His voice was playful, reminding him how much he enjoyed teasing you. You rolled your eyes. “Remove it before I cut it off,” you warned, turning slightly to meet his gaze. His tail loosened immediately, slinking back, but his grin remained as wide as ever.

"What happened to ‘I love you’, ‘You are the best’, ‘Please, harder and fas–" You put a hand over his mouth and he pretended to be defeated, but there was pride in his eyes. He was happy to see how much you had changed over the past two weeks. The girl who once doubted herself had become confident and bold, and he loved every second of it.

He watched as you adjusted the final touches of your outfit. “Look at you now," he said, his voice low and almost admiring. "Such a pretty and bossy woman. I love that new side of you.”

You slipped on your white heels, the final touch to your angelic costume. But as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but question. What was even angelic about you anymore? You had let him claim you in every possible way. Your body, your soul, everything was his, and you didn’t regret it as everything happened so fast that you wouldn't be surprised if he used his magic to make Halloween come faster.

Grabbing your phone, you prepared to upload another Instagram story with your devil darling. Ever since you posted him for the first time, everyone who had ignored or unfollowed you was suddenly watching your stories again. Funny how that worked. You smirked, knowing that tonight’s post would send them reeling and you will know the gossip because of your friends. They always tell you if someone is talking behind your back, someone like Hiragi insulting Endo, or Tsubaki being disappointed in you…and Umemiya saying he is fine but he isn’t fine.

“Showing me off again?” He asked, leaning back, watching you swipe through your phone. You nodded, snapping a quick picture of the two of you in the mirror. “Of course. People love the drama between me and Umemiya.”

You were no longer the quiet, shy girl who stayed within the lines, living by the rules set by others. You had stepped out of the zone and were living in a big mansion, filled with adventure, luxury, and a man who encouraged you to rise higher instead of keeping you stuck in one place. The devil had taught you something valuable: first, to believe and love yourself, and second, to choose a man who would elevate you, not hold you back.

“Ready for tonight?” he smiled, his horns gleaming in the bathroom light, perfectly matching your halo. “I’ve never been more ready. Let’s show them what a real angel and devil look like.”

Match made in Heaven—is what he enjoyed telling everyone and only the two of you knew the meaning. One thing was clear: You were in love with the devil, and he didn't just want your soul for the deal—he wanted everything from you. Endo Yamato wanted you. Make sure to repay him fully because the devil is always tempting, and he hates to wait too long.

It was like time had stopped, and you couldn’t help but glance at him, hoping he hadn’t done anything that involved magic for this dramatic entrance. Everyone turned their heads to watch as you walked through the crowd with Endo. But his smirk told you he hadn’t done any tricks, much surprising to you—tonight you were simply the topic of discussion.

His arm tightened around your waist, and the big room was filled with whispers and glances, and it made you uncomfortable at some point and he sensed this, leaning down playfully whispering in your ear. “Just ignore them, angel. We're just giving them a free show~”

Well, if it wasn’t your best friend the fate itself when you found yourself face-to-face with none other than your…ex. He was accompanied by Hiragi and Tsubaki, the two friends you’d once spent so much time with. Umemiya looked at you and you could see the surprise, confusion, and maybe even regret in his eyes. He managed a weak smile, but couldn’t take his eyes off Endo, who only gave him that signature devilish smirk.

“Hi,Ume!" you greeted cheerfully, waving to Hiragi and Tsubaki, trying to make this less awkward and with how Umemiya barely reacted, still, clearly caught off guard by the presence of your devilishly attractive date. “Hi,” he muttered, eyes lingering to Endo.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group until Umemiya finally cleared his throat, "Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?" he asked as you glanced at your boyfriend, and he just shrugged, releasing his hold on you, as if he knew that whatever conversation you had with Umemiya, it wouldn’t change a thing. “Go ahead,” he said, giving you an encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, you followed Umemiya to a quieter corner of the room, away from prying eyes but close enough that you could still feel Endo's gaze, watchful and reassuring, grounding you in your decision to move forward.

"So what do you want to talk about?" you asked wanting to just have fun without thinking so much about past relationships. Umemiya'a was a wonderful boyfriend, but Endo was out of this world.

“So...uh,” Umemiya began, keeping his eyes on yours trying to search for an answer, trying to search for the real you. “You really...you’re really with him?”

“Yes, I am,” you replied, keeping that calm and confident tone, because you needed to assure him that everything was fine, even without him. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?” Umemiya’s jaw clenched, and he looked away as if trying to gather his thoughts.

“Look, I know things got...weird between us. I never thought you’d—” He hesitated, eyes flicking back to Endo, who was currently chatting with some other partygoers, yet somehow still looked every bit as menacing. “I mean, him, really?”

“Yes, him. If you are going to judge me, just let's drop this conversation and have fun?” you said, getting a little annoyed but you understood his concerns. However, he is an ex for a reason. “He treats me well, listens to me, and I’ve been happier. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Umemiya frowned, he was frustrated “I didn’t think you’d… move on so fast.” He looked at a loss for words, struggling with the effects of his own choices. You took a deep breath, finally feeling closure start to settle over you. Whatever you’d once wanted from him—an apology, an explanation—no longer mattered. You’d moved on. “Look, I hope you will have fun despite everything. Past is past, forgive and forget, right?” you said, ending the conversation with that same smile you gave to him when he was feeling down.

As you turned to walk back to Endo, you felt at peace. Your past with Umemiya was just that—your past. Rejoining him by the drinks, he looked down at you, so curious. "You came back very quickly. How did it go?" he asked handing you a drink which you drank immediately. He knew how it went, what the conversation was, after all, he is the Devil... he has eyes and ears for all evil. "Nothing much. He's just sad, I guess. But I don't care." He just nodded and looked at you with that look, as if you were something so sweet and lovely, like a dessert ready to be savored. He was sure to savor every last bit of you when the time came for you to repay him.

"Yamato, are you listening?" waving your hand in front of his face you slightly worried for him. "Yeah, yeah. You wanted to fix your make-up?" He chuckled, leaning down closer to you. Smiling, you took his hand, guiding him through the crowd toward the restroom. As you walked, people parted to make way, their eyes on the angel and the devil, perfectly matched.

By "fixing your makeup” you hadn’t meant making out, but Endo had other plans. His lips met yours as he leaned in, pressing you gently against the wall. You closed your eyes, letting the world fall away. His hands found your waist, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, and your mind went blank as his lips brushed against your neck, leaving traces of his dark lipstick on your skin. You weren't the only couple being all over each other, so who cares what you do?

When you finally caught your breath, you opened your eyes, only to see his smirk—sly and devilish as he pulled away, leaving you flustered and breathless. "Why did you stop?" You didn’t immediately realize why he’d pulled back until you followed his gaze. Standing a few feet away, looking as if he had seen a ghost, was Umemiya. Endo’s teal eyes were exactly like his flames, burning and full of what one could say is lust and joy, as he caught your ex’s gaze and, finally showed his real black eyes and sharp fangs.

It was Halloween, after all. Strange things are bound to happen, and if anyone asked, it was just an impressive costume trick, okay?

Endo’s hand found its way back to your face, and he kissed you once more, gentler this time but no less possessive. "Just relax and give your soul to me," he whispered against your lips, the words a promise that felt as luring as his embrace. "Give me everything so I can give you so much more."

You closed your eyes again, the feeling of being in his arms somehow made all your doubts, insecurities, and the heartache you’d carried from your past with Umemiya fade away. For the first time, you felt completely, unapologetically loved.

When you finally pulled away, the Devil watched you catch your breath, your heart racing as he could feel how you were wanting and begging for more. "Come on, angel," he said, brushing his thumb over your cheek with a grin. "This party is boring. Let me show you how demons like to have fun." Tonight, you were in his world, where the rules didn’t matter, much more than any exes of yours.

Tonight he will show you how much fun is to make tempting deals with the Devil, so enjoy yourself to the last bite of the apple—temptation is the key to your soul.

WEIRDMAGEDDON VICTIMS :: @maruflix @exkiusme @17020 @stunies @y2kuromi @seneon @littleplantfreak @meidiary @heartkaji @nyxypoo @ryescapades

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puckszone · 3 days ago

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my musings on how to leave longer & more regular comments on fics:

We all know comments are good - readers have probably heard authors on tumblr talk about how valuable comments are for ages, and I hope most of the authors reading this have felt that validating joy first hand.

But we also all have lives, and only so much energy in a given day. Maybe you have worries about leaving a comment that's too "weird", or "awkward". Maybe you LOVE a fic, but have no idea how to put those strong emotions into words. Maybe you leave short comments, but wish you felt comfortable crafting the paragraph-long detailed comments that some readers gift to their favorite fics.

If you've ever thought about trying to comment more often, or trying to leave longer comments, then here are some ramblings of mine that will (hopefully!) bring comment-inspiration your way.

A quick table of contents:

Lower the mental stakes

How do I comment on porn?!?!?!?

My approach to paragraph-long commenting

My call to action: challenge yourself to go one step further

Lower the mental stakes:

When I first joined a writing discord, I was genuinely blown away at the amount of support and love the HRPF community contains. I was also blown away at the amount of people that were actually reading my works and messaging about them!! It is still one of the coolest feelings ever.

In my mind, this is an example of a "lower stakes" ways to talk about fics: messaging a friend, or a group chat, or a discord server.

It takes a lot less energy for me to type a rambling text about how much I love the fic I'm currently reading vs. typing a cohesive, well-thought out comment for the author themselves.

One of those two options is much more intimidating!

I want so badly to tell the author how much I love their fic, but I'll never find the time to write all the things they deserve to hear!! So the tab sits open on my phone for months, and the comment never gets written.

If you relate to this: try to lower the "mental stakes" of writing your comment. Remember: this is a fun thing!! Fic is fun!! And I promise, you don't have to write the "perfect" comment to make an author's day.

A potential solution: treat the comment box a bit more like a message to your group chat. Not in a rude way - let's stay polite to the writers in our community, and recognize when unsolicited feedback isn't wanted.

But instead of forcing yourself to always have the "perfect" comment, think of something lighter. Think of what you would text to a friend if you were going to send them a link to the fic: maybe "dude this fic is so funny you need to read it", OR "this is INSANELY good", OR "i've been reading this all morning you need to check it out right now".

Then write that!

Comment: "this fic is so funny oh my god. love it!"

Comment: "this is INSANELY good"

Comment: "SCREAMING. I LOVE THIS"

Comment: "i haven't been able to put this done all morning! sooooo good!"

Comment: "i read the first chapter of this fic and instantly knew i had to send it to all my friends. i love this so much!!!"

Also, this might just be personal preference but: a discord message can get lost to time. AO3 is an archive, and comments there are much easier to look back on!!

So send that discord message to the author in a server you're in - they're going to appreciate it so much!! But consider copy-pasting that as a comment in AO3 as well, no matter how short it might be. It means a lot!!

How do I comment on porn?!?!?!?

PWP fics are known to have a large number of hits, with less kudos and even less comments.

Listen. I get it.

Especially in a fandom like HRPF, where many fics are user-locked, it can be intimidating to comment with no chance to hide behind anonymity.

But remember this: anybody who might "see your username" has also clicked into that very same fic and gone alllllll the way to the end. We're all in this together!!! I promise!!

Maybe the actual logistics are difficult for you - how do I leave a comment on an 8k porn-no-plot fic?? how do I explain that I love this fic without making the author uncomfortable?? - so in that case, let me give a few brief ideas for you to work off of.

Some words I like to use a lot: dirty, nasty, HOTTTT, sexy, intimate, vivid.

If you're feeling especially blindsided by the Everything of it all: i like to throw in a good "stupidly hot". "my brain is melting out of my ears". "soooooo dirty nasty hot". "WHEWWWW this is making me feel insane".

Don't overthink it!!!! Speak your truth!!!

And, final point: don't be afraid to highlight specific favorite parts, like you would with any other fic! Say it with your chest! If you liked the frottage, then say "the thigh riding was sooooo stupidly hot". I promise, the author put it in because they also thought the same thing!!!! It's going to make their day (and maybe result in more fics with that same favorite part of yours).

My approach to paragraph-long commenting:

I just want to reiterate: there is no right or wrong way to write a comment. But here's the general breakdown of how I think about leaving more detailed comments, if you want some ideas.

I copy snippets from the fic that call out to me as I read

I go into my clipboard to paste them all into the comment box

I write 1-2 sentences about WHY i copied down that specific snippet

Sometimes, it might be hard to know exactly why you were so affected by a given line. Here's some things you might especially appreciate in a fic:

Characterization: maybe the dialogue felt especially realistic. maybe the character's decisions made a lot of sense to you. maybe the way two characters interact is just exactly how you picture it. write that down in one sentence!! done!

Prose/writing style: maybe the line was a really gorgeous metaphor, piece of dialogue, etc. copy and paste that shit into your comment + add some "!!!"s, or maybe a single sentence like "this is so so gorgeous" or "INSANE metaphor" or "beautiful prose i'm chewing on glass"

The plot: "I have no idea where this is going next, and I can't wait to find out" / "OH MY GOD THE CLIFFHANGER"

The emotions you felt while reading it: this one's an easy one I promise! "the way you wrote [CHARACTER]'s pain hurt sooooo good" / "this is making me feel ill" / "i actually gasped out loud on the bus" / "i'm so nervous for the next chapter" / "i'm SO excited by where this fic is going" / "i teared up reading this"

A long comment will come organically & very easily, even if you only have 2 copy-pasted snippets!! And the author gets to hear very specific feedback about exactly what you're enjoying - that's SO unbelievably rewarding to hear.

So, my personal call to action: challenge yourself to go one step further!

If you don't usually leave comments: try leaving one or two one-line comments this week. Throw in a quick "i love this!!" next to that kudos!

If you usually leave one-line comments: try leaving a couple sentences! describe one specific thing you liked about the fic, or one specific emotion you had.

If you often leave comments on the fics of people you know: try going outside your comfort zone and commenting on a stranger's fic. you got this!

Push yourself one step further, whatever that means for you! It's such a beautiful thing, to be able to read and love and discuss fic in a shared community, and it's worth the effort!

If you've read my ramblings the whole way through: thank you!!!! This was mainly an outlet for me to put all my thoughts into real words, and I sort of can't believe you read all the way through. <3

I welcome any and all additions to this post!!!! The more we talk about commenting, and the more we comment, the more this community grows - and that's a positive thing for all of us, readers and writers alike.

#hrpf #not sure how to tag this post tbh!#krakenblr #hockey rpf

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hwamphwamp · 2 days ago

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~11:39pm

warning(s): mentions of being high and the side effects of being high, a suggestive line or two if you squint

In hindsight, expecting Wooyoung to follow instructions was your first mistake.

At least that’s what Hongjoong said when you called him, desperate for advice.

“Just be there for him until he comes down from the high,” Hongjoong said, his voice muffled by the sounds of the party he’d stepped out of to take your call. You waited, hoping he’d have more to offer than just that.

“Joong, he thought he was sinking into the mattress for half an hour, and now he’s freaking out because he has a case of cottonmouth that’s— in his words—‘so extreme he can’t breathe.’ What do I do?”

“Give him a gallon of water and some cuddles or something. He’ll be knocked out in no time,” he replied, unfiltered as always. “Listen, my set’s starting soon, so I have to go. If he gets worse, take him to the hospital or something. He’s got good insurance.”

With that, the call ended, leaving you just as helpless as before. You knew that later on, when both of you were much less high, you’d realize everything had been perfectly fine. Sure, Wooyoung had taken twenty milligrams for his first high instead of the five he’d been told to take, which was a bit much, but he’d be okay by morning. Right now though, in your current state of mild panic, it felt like him experiencing one more side effect would send you spiraling.

“Baby?”

You turned towards the balcony door to see Wooyoung peeking out, a small frown on his face as he shuffled over to you.

“What happened to our cuddle session?” he asked, throwing his arms around you and lifting you just enough to carry you back inside. “I waited for an hour, and you weren’t back. I was starting to get worried.”

“First of all, it’s only been ten minutes at most,” you corrected, wriggling free from his arms once you reached your bedroom. “Second, when I tried to cuddle you, you thought our combined weights would make us sink into the mattress faster.”

“Oh… Wait, I’m the one who stopped the cuddle session? That doesn’t even sound right, so I kinda have to assume you’re lying.”

“I’m not—”

You caught yourself, deciding there was no use. Wooyoung was too stubborn while sober to admit he’d ever stop any affection with you—better yet while high and you were picking and choosing your battles tonight.

“Yeah, you’re right. That does sound crazy, Woo,” you replied, watching him as he made his way over to your vanity.

“By the way,” he started, motioning for you to join him, “I drank the rest of the bottled water in your stash under the bed. But more importantly, I was looking at your makeup.”

“That water was supposed to last me until next week—”

“Again, more importantly, I was looking at your makeup and thought it would be fun if you did my makeup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, then shut it again, taken aback by his request. It wasn’t surprising he wanted to look pretty no matter his state of mind, but still, it was random considering the last thing he’d said before you went outside to call his best friend was how he didn’t feel real and thought the person running his “simulation” hated him.

“You want me to do your makeup?”

“Yes.”

“At almost midnight?”

“Also yes.”

“Is it because you want your makeup done or because you want to hold me without feeling like you’re sinking into the abyss?”

“Both.”

You sighed, pulling your desk chair over to the vanity and motioning for him to sit down. Even though you were ready to sleep, it was hard to resist the way he looked up at you, his bloodshot eyes still brimming with affection. Wooyoung had this way of looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you could never stay annoyed when he looked at you like that.

“Okay, so what look are we—”

“Aren’t you gonna sit down?” he interrupted, patting his lap as he waited for you to take your usual spot.

“It’d be easier to reach the makeup if I just stand up, Woo. Besides—”

But before you could finish, Wooyoung pulled you down, guiding you to straddle him. His goofy smile grew wider as you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t act like you don’t like being on top of me,” he teased, his hands resting in your hips.

You chuckled, playfully smacking his arm before grabbing a foundation brush. “Behave. Now hold still.”

As you started dabbing foundation onto his face, Wooyoung’s hands moved up to your waist, tracing light, lazy circles that made it nearly impossible to focus. You bit back a smile, hoping he didn’t notice the way your cheeks flushed.

“You’re so gentle,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours as you blended the foundation. “Feels nice.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you moved to grab the concealer. “Stay still, or I’ll mess up.”

Wooyoung pouted but obliged, though his hands continued their light movements. “It’s hard when you’re so close,” he mumbled, his gaze lingering on your face.

You shook your head, smiling as you started patting the concealer under his eyes. “Yeah, ok pretty boy. Now close your eyes.

He obeyed, his long lashes brushing against his cheeks as he relaxed into your touch. You took your time, perfecting the base as he hummed contentedly, entranced by the feeling of your fingers against his skin.

“Wow, I can already tell I look amazing,” he said, cracking one eye open to see your reaction.

“Patience, diva,” you laughed, reaching for an eyeshadow palette. “Let me work my magic.”

He watched as you carefully selected a soft pink shade and began sweeping it across his eyelids. Every few seconds, Wooyoung would open his eyes a bit to peek at you and every time he’d break into a smile, watching you with a look so full of adoration it made your heart ache.

“You’re so good at this,” he said softly, his voice taking on a rare, serious tone. “It’s like… I don’t know. You make everything feel like art.”

You paused, warmth spreading through you at his unexpected compliment. “You’re making me blush, Woo.”

“Good,” he replied, his thumb tracing small circles on your back. “You should know how amazing you are.”

Trying to keep your composure, you moved on to his eyeliner. His eyes sparkled as you carefully lined them, and you couldn’t help but admire the way the makeup made his already striking features stand out. You brushed a bit of highlighter onto his cheekbones, and he closed his eyes, soaking in the attention like he wasn’t used to it by now. Still though, there was something so nice about being with someone who treated every intimate moment with you as if it were the first.

Once you finished, you leaned back, admiring your work. “There. You’re all done, Woo.”

He glanced in the mirror, his mouth dropping in playful awe. “I look like a whole new person! No… a prettier version of myself. You’re incredible, babe.”

You laughed, brushing back a stray lock of hair from his face. “You’re gorgeous with or without makeup. I just brought out what was already there.”

For a moment, you both stayed silent, just looking at each other. His hands found yours, and he pulled you even closer, his fingers threading through your hair as he let out a soft, contented sigh.

“You know I love you, right?” he murmured, his voice quieter than it had been all night.

Your heart skipped a beat as you leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. “Yeah… I love you too, Woo.”

A soft smile spread across his face, his eyes beginning to droop as the high was just starting to wear off. You felt him growing heavier, his hands resting in your lap as he started to drift off. His head leaned against your shoulder, his breathing evening out as sleep began to take over.

You could’ve moved, or nudged him towards the bed, but instead, you stayed right where you were, feeling the gentle weight of him against you. You watched his face relax as he slipped into sleep, his makeup still perfectly in place, highlighting his beauty even in his unconscious state.

In that moment, with his heartbeat steady against yours, you realized you were falling for him even more. If that was even possible.

On a not so unrelated note, you now had to tell Hongjoong he couldn’t have been more right if he tried.

#this was the Wooyoung thing I was supposed to be working on when I went on an xdinary heroes adventure instead #also starting timestamps simply because I love them #wooyoung #Jung wooyoung #ateez #atz #wooyoung fanfiction #wooyoung fanfic #wooyoung fluff #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #atz fanfiction #atz fanfic #atz fluff

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localsharkcryptid · 1 day ago

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Alright, time to briefly talk about the scary shit going on right now.

Please for the love of god, do not succumb to the defeatest attitude and apathy, this shit isn't over and we still have two months before there's any change in office officially and alongside that there's a metric fuckton of unknowns. For right now, yeah shits not great, but right this moment we aren't in danger - not yet. Things could change, is it likely? Probably not but let's all fucking consider this man is a fucking felon and we all know that - they could change the rules and shit could change.

But regardless we still have fucking hope, they don't win unless we loose hope and EVERYONE needs to recognize that - hope is the most important fucking tool we have and we can weaponize that shit. We just have to be fucking louder in the future, we can still protest, there's still shit we can do. It's not all lost, I know it's fucking scary, I'm fucking horrified and doing my best to keep it together but we can't all descend into panic right now.

We have to stick together, and by we I mean fucking everyone. Community is how people are gonna get through this, sticking together regardless of whatever is how we will survive. So that means a fuck ton of you need to fucking drop your moral superiority and purity bullshit and GET THE FUCK OVER YOURSELVES. EVERYONE IS IN DANGER AND THAT MEANS YOU MORAL PURITIST PEOPLE, THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE SO FUCKING WORRIED ABOUT WHO'S A GOOD PERSON OUT OF STREAMERS OR GOD FORBID THE PEOPLE WHO TOLD OTHERS NOT TO VOTE CAUSE BOTH WERE BAD. GET. OVER. IT. We're all in the same shit show now, none of that trivial fandom drama shit is important, what is important is supporting each other and persisting. We can survive this, we can get through it and we can try and mitigate what damage we can but only if we fucking stick together.

So please, for yourselves and everyone else, be kinder to each other - stop with the bullshit that doesn't matter and be kinder. If you can do something to help, do something, and most importantly protesting is going to be SO fucking important. They can't take that fucking right from us and they sure as hell can't ignore us if we stick the fuck together.

It's not lost, and it's not fucking over. We will survive but it'll be substantially better if we stick the fuck together.

#us politics #election 2024 #us elections #crypt yaps

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a-bad-case-of-the-stephs · 14 hours ago

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It’s been one of those days. It’s Time for me to violently defend stephanie brown on the internet beyond what should be considered reasonable or good.

I saw an older anti stephanie brown post which blamed Steph for Robin #87 (when Bruce reveals Tim's secret identity to Spoiler and offers to train her) and all the comments and reblogs and whatever were ragging Steph and it pissed me off and it made me sad so I'm going to break down why being mad at Stephanie for something Bruce Wayne did is insane, why Stephanie is genuinely in the right, and why having the same opinion as Alfred "boy mom" Pennyworth is embarrassing.

This ones gonna be more rambly and less analysis like than my other Steph posts for the record, I just kinda need to get this off my chest.

Let's break it down.

When Batman first brings Steph onto the team as Spoiler he tells Steph Tim's secret identity. When Tim finds out his secret was told to her, he freaks out. Tim's perspective is super understandable. He feels betrayed by Bruce, because he didn't even consult or ask Tim first, a clear betrayal of Tim's trust and the supposed equality of their partnership. Especially in light of how much Tim feels he has sacrificed to keep Bruce's secret.

But lets look at the situation from Stephanies perspective. Because she is just NOT at fault here.

Here are the facts: Stephanie is approached by Batman, who has in pretty much every interaction beforehand been cold and dismissive, and who she expects to tell her to quit being Spoiler again.

This man has only ever shown an ounce of approval towards Steph's vigilantism one time before this, for like one line in Stephs very first appearance. For him to be asking her for help sets off serious alarm bells. Steph is "really scared" when Batman asks for her help to find Robin.

Robin #84

Furthermore, its important we don't take Batman at his word here. Bruce is withholding information, something he does with Steph a LOT. He says "no one" knows where Tim is, and in Robin #87, he clarifies that Robins transmitter went dead.

Robin #87

"No one" is an exaggeration of epic proportions, given that Batman has not checked Tim's boarding school, or contacted Alfred, the location which it is overwhelmingly likely he is at, and the person who would be able to check extremely easily.

Robin #87

Because Bruce didn't want to go to Brentwood himself and run into Alfred, or have to speak to Alfred, on account of their fight in Officer Down, he sends Steph.

While the fear and worry Steph is portrayed with in Robin #84 doesn't really carry over to #87 (one of the numerous inconsistencies between these two issues) the fact of the matter is Steph is misled by Batman about the stakes of Tim being missing, which she is led to believe are much higher than they are.

In addition to this, Stephanie was under the impression that Tim was only ever holding back his secret ID soley because of Batman's wishes, that Tim was just waiting on Batman to change his mind.

Robin #56 #75 #82 #62

Tim will assert this is true later, and he certain says this is true beforehand.

If he's telling the truth, he doesn't have an issue with Steph knowing his identity. He has an issue with Batman telling her without checking with him first.

How is Steph supposed to infer this?

Steph has no reason to think it's important that Batman checks with Tim, because Tim has made it abundantly clear to her that he does want her to know but has just been waiting on Batman's approval.

Let's look how Steph acts when she meets Robin knowing his identity for the first time.

Robin #87

Steph enters the situation seeming to believe Tim will feel happy for her and relieved that their relationship no longer has to be as one sided as it has been. She still leaves room for Tim potentially having conflicted feelings, by mentioning she "hopes" that it's okay with Tim that she's finally on the main team. Tim, as mentioned early, freaks out.

Again, Tim's frustration is understandable. But let's look at Steph's dialogue for a second.

Robin #87

She says "we can be together now". This is weird and really interesting choice, because Tim and Steph have been dating for the entirety of No Man's Land and over the course of her entire pregnancy. This is a substantial amount of time. So what does Steph mean by "now"? There are two explantations.

Steph and Tim were not on speaking terms before this, because Steph was under the impression Tim had been cheating on her. He isn't cheating, but it surprisingly never gets resolved. Like the many other threads which were brought up in Robin #84, it gets completely ignored in Robin #87 and onward. Steph could be referring to the fact that she believes they couldn't be together because he was supposably cheating, but now that she knows his secret identity, he has no reason to cheat anymore. This is a super flimsy idea however, and given the fact that no character brings up how Steph believes Tim was cheating with Star after Robin #84, the logical conclusion is that it was either resolved off screen, or retconned.

The second explanation is much stronger. Steph says "now" because despite the fact that they have been dating for so long, their relationship has been extremely unbalanced. She's been closed off to half of Tim's life, something she agrees to when they first get together, but clearly has taken a toll on her. To the point she says "now" because, to her, the relationship never really truly started.

Robin #80

This isn't a stupid or petty complaint, for the record. Tim has seen her at her worst, he was there for there immediately before and after childbirth, but she doesn't get to know anything about an entire half of his life. This is especially true when you consider much Tim was in control of their communication.

He can show up at her house anytime, but if he doesn't initiate contact Steph's on her own. In Robin #80 for instance, Steph is presumably just hopping around rooftops hoping to bump into Tim, because she has no other way to find him.

Robin #87

And after Steph expresses excitement that they can finally be in the balanced relationship, a real relationship, she is rebuked with a violent "No!" that she seems to lean away from. And in the next panel, she asks, confused: "What?" in a small speech bubble which gets entirely ignored. In fact, neither Batman or Robin speaks to, or even addresses directly Stephanie for the rest of the encounter.

When Robin storms off without even a look to Stephanie, Stephs reaction is (big Shocker) to blame herself. Batman uses neutral language to place the blame on Tim, stating that Tim feels betrayed. In direct contrast, Steph actively disagrees, clarifying that Tim was betrayed, and more than that, she directly places the blame on both her and Batman's shoulders.

Robin #87

But Stephanie is a prop in the plot. Tim doesn't yell at her, he runs from her. Because she isn't Stephanie Brown, his girlfriend who has been in a massively unbalanced relationship, who is overjoyed at finally getting to be in a "real" relationship with him, she's the person Batman told Tim's identity to. He's not angry at her, he's angry she knows his identity and Bruce didn't bother to ask if Tim could tell her. He's angry at Batman. This conversation, this whole drama, is about the partnership between Bruce and TIm.

Stephanie Brown, who believed Tim was just waiting for the Batman go ahead, had no reason to think Tim would be anything but as happy as she was. Importantly, Stephanie Brown is seriously just not to blame in this situation, even if she blames herself (which as I've discussed before, is a running theme with her characterization, her low self-esteem and occasional tendancy to blame herself for the actions of others).

Not to mention, Tim doesn't blame Steph either. So if you're reading Robin #87 and somehow coming to the conclusion that Steph is a monster, please reassess.

Robin #92

How does Alfred factor into this? I'll make it quick.

Robin #88

Oh no Alfred, I'm so sorry that your loyalties to Master Timothy run so deep that you HAVE to yell at the teenaged girl who was more of a prop than anything in that encounter and had no reason to think Tim would be hurt. Oh no, really that must be so hard for you. Well, at least we know he's consistent, I'm sure if he's this mad at Stephanie, he's fucking fuming at Bruce Wayne, right? Right? Right?

No, of course not. Alfred Pennyworth, hypocrite extraordinaire is out there actively defending Bruce to Tim. Which no one asked him to do.

It's all "in his defense" and "you knew the perils" and "master bruce's crusade ill afford the delicacy of privacy required in affairs of the heart" and "stop feeling sorry for yourself"

I cannot believe he has the gall to yell at Steph for this. Talk about wounding Master Tim deeply bro, just wait until its Tim's 16th Birthday Party and Alfreds applying his stupid latex mask with a smile on his face. Sorry Alfred, you’re not always wrong, but when you’re wrong you’re really wrong.

That’s all. Goodnight 🌙

#stephanie brown #tim drake #batman #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #stephanie brown meta #dc comics #robin 1993 #mine

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uas-fics · 1 day ago

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Title: Tripping into Friendship

Rating: E

Summary: Leshy trips over a cat in the dark.

Ships: LeshyCat can be read platonically.

Warnings: Spoilers for the post-game,

Other Information: I was gonna wait to post this but I think people needed a distraction today.

Read on AO3

---

The air smelled pleasantly of incoming rain. The clouds had to be obscuring the moon. Not that it matters at all to Leshy whether the pale face in the sky showed its light down on the cult grounds. He couldn't see it anyway.

Leshy counted under his breath as he picked his way carefully back from the outhouse. He sniffed the air to ensure he could still find his scent from his earlier trip.

...thirty-three steps, thirty-two steps, thirty-one steps...

He tripped over something large and soft and stumbled face-first into cold dirt.

Leshy swallowed a mouthful of earth and cringed. The dirt in this horrid place was nothing compared to the potent and complex flavors of his Darkwood. He ran his tongue around his mouth, gathered the remaining pieces of bland dirt then spat them out.

Whatever he tripped over stirred and started to grumble.

"Huh? What...Oh, my Lamb!"

Soft paws touched Leshy's shoulders as a vaguely familiar voice apologized.

So it was one of The Lamb's little followers he had tripped over. Had he taken a wrong turn heading back towards his shelter, or had the follower moved to sleep in his path? Either answer, Leshy hoped this fool knew how lucky they were. Had he had his crown and power still, their blood would be watering the flowers of Darkwood and their flesh feeding his army of devotees.

The follower attempted to haul Leshy to his feet, but Leshy threw his arm out, pushing them away. He did not need help!

He stood and wiped the inadequate dirt from his knees.

"Again, I am terribly sorry, Mr. Leshy," The follower continued, and Leshy finally recognized the voice:that one yellow cat—well, Narinder told him this follower was a yellow cat, anyway. He didn't know for sure.

He hadn't bother to learn any of The Lamb's precious little flock's names or voices. They were unimportant. The only reason he remembered this one in particular was the cat's act of disgusting kindness in giving him a flower and reassuring words that, of course, Leshy did not need or want.

"You had better be," Leshy snapped. "What are you doing in my path, anyway?"

"My tent collapsed," the yellow cat explained. "It happens sometimes. Usually, The Lamb fixes it but they are resting after their crusade, so I thought I could sleep outside until morning."

"Oh, no, you should definitely go and wake them." Leshy smirked. "They are a god now. They do not need sleep." The thought of ruining The Lamb's slumber tantalized Leshy, but before he could continue to goad the yellow cat, a fat drop of water hit the top of his head. He turned to face the sky as more droplets fell.

The yellow cat sighed. "So it is supposed to rain. I was worried about that."

Leshy took a deep breath. He liked the rain. The humidity it brought with it freshened his leaves.

His favorite part, however, was the sound that came with a downpour.

The sound of heavy raindrops hitting the leaves of Darkwood was like music, a primal drum beat only found in his lands. His heart sank. It was a beat he would probably never hear again.

He took another breath to shift his attention away from his sorrow and homesickness.

"Son of a--!" Leshy jumped in realization.

"W-what?" The yellow cat gasped.

"My scent trail!" Leshy gritted his teeth. The downpour had already started to wash away his lifeline back to his shelter. What was worse, he'd forgotten what his step count was, too. Great! Now he would have to spend the rest of the night trying to find his way back in the rain!

"Do you need help to your shelter?" The yellow cat asked. "I can take you!" He sounded cheerful as if helping a dethroned god back to his humble shelter was something he looked forward to every day.

Leshy should have told the him to leave, but he was tired and wanted to get back into his shelter. He needed his sleep for when he inevitably had to deal with The Little Lamb and his brother bossing him around.

"I will allow it, but put your hand down. I will not take it."

The yellow cat made a noise of confusion, and Leshy gave a cheeky smile. He didn't need eyes to predict what someone like the yellow cat would do. While his realm had been the constant change of chaos, Leshy had a good mind for order and predictability, as well.

"Just take me back," he ordered.

A pause—Leshy guessed he probably nodded—then the yellow cat hastily said, "Of course! Follow me."

---

Leshy almost regretted not taking the offered paw as the two made their way back to his shelter. The rain drumming against the ground made it nearly impossible for him to hear the cat's footfalls—if he could have heard them at all in the first place.

He remembered all the times he would watch Narinder sneak up on Kallamar, walking casually with those silent feline feet of his, just to make their older brother jump when he tapped his shoulder.

Leshy almost smiled at the memory but pressed his lips together to force it away. Narinder wasn't fun anymore. He was boring and bossy. Go do this, Leshy! You can't eat that, Leshy! The Lamb says, Leshy...

He couldn't wait until The Lamb brought back Heket. She wasn't boring, just bossy, but Leshy had grown accustomed to her ordering him around in the thousand years he, Heket, Kallamar, and Shamura had ruled the lands.

And when she gets here, I will not have to feel so alone

Leshy scowled into the darkness at the uninvited thought.

The Lamb's flock didn't like him. Most seemed scared of him, as far as he could tell. Those who weren't rightfully scared only spoke to him with anger and resentment. Unless prompted by necessity, the followers did not interact with him. They didn't invite him to sit during dinner or join in a dance circle. He could not entirely blame them. Outsiders in his own cult were treated with the same level of suspicion, even the ones from his siblings' cults.

The only follower who treated Leshy with warmth seemed to be the one leading him, and Leshy could not understand why.

The two made it to his shelter without Leshy tripping on anything or anyone else. Even with the heavy rain, the strong smell of camilla that circled the shelter wafted to Leshy. He had planted the flowers as part of his claim to the shelter from seeds The Lamb brought from Darkwood.

Leshy felt along the side of the thick wooden shelter until his fingers brushed the canvas door. He pushed it open and stepped inside the warm building.

"Are you coming in or not?" he asked, keeping the grand shelter's door open with one arm.

Though he loath to admit it, it would not be a bad idea to make some...alliances in the cult now that he was stuck here. He smiled to himself. Shamura would be so proud of his forethought.

The yellow cat muttered his thanks before slipping under Leshy's arm. Leshy dropped the canvas closed then shook the water from his body. Drier now, he moved forward until his feet hit the nest of mostly ill-gotten blankets he called a bed. He flopped down to his back.

The rain beat against the roof in a steady rhythm as the wooden structure groaned against the weather.

"Wow, this shelter is really nice. It's warm and sturdy!" The yellow cat complimented, sitting down at the edge of the blanket pile. "The Leader must like you to let you live here."

"It is unworthy considering my past station, but it will do."

The Lamb had not given Leshy the roof over his head. In actuality, Leshy claimed the shelter when the previous occupant dropped dead near the shrine one day. Leshy made sure both his brother and The Lamb knew he would bully anyone who tried to take it from him. His threats were enough to make The Lamb relent and allow him to move from the pathetic canvas tent he had been sleeping in.

Leshy took a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders, careful not to get it stuck on his branches. He yawned and leaned with his back pressed against the wall.

"Sleep wherever. It does not matter to me."

Leshy listened as the yellow cat shuffled around his shelter for a moment. It had to be dark, so, like Leshy himself, the yellow cat was blind to his surroundings. He brushed his fingers against Leshy's tail, only to jerk away and mutter an apology.

Leshy would roll his eyes if he still had them. He took the blanket from his shoulders and tossed it to where he thought the yellow cat was. A muffled 'oof!' confirmed he hit his target. He pulled a second blanket from his nest and returned to his cocoon of warmth.

"Thank you. Um, good night, Mr. Leshy."

Leshy grunted in response and drifted off to sleep.

---

It wasn't quite morning yet when Leshy woke again, as he couldn't hear the bustle of The Lamb's flock or the smell of breakfast cooking. The rain hadn't stopped, but it had faded to a light drizzle.

From beside him, something breathed deeply. Leshy nearly pushed it away before remembering the events that unfolded a couple of hours earlier. He slowly reached his fingers and brushed warm fur. The yellow cat was pressed against his hip, sound asleep.

Well, Leshy had told him to sleep wherever.

Leshy ran his fingers along the fur until he found a particularly soft spot near, what he assumed, was the yellow cat's ear. He absentmindedly stroked the spot, enjoying the warmth under his fingertips.

The yellow cat began to purr, a resonating sound that filled the shelter. He stopped, startled. He had forgotten that cats did that when they were comfortable. More than a thousand years had passed since he'd had a cat purring so close to him.

He pulled his hand to his chest. What was he doing? He didn't know this cat.

What if he woke up angry that Leshy touched him? If Leshy was going to gain favor with this cat, he had to...oh, what was it The Lamb had said? Oh, yes, Leshy would have to 'put his divine entitlement' to the side.

Though thousands of years protecting Darkwood earned him that 'entitlement', Leshy knew The Little Lamb had something of a point.

The yellow cat shifted and Leshy stiffened. Had he woken him?

The yellow cat yawned and squirmed around until his head and arms rested on Leshy's lap. He released a heavy, contented sigh.

Leshy cautiously put his hand on the top of the yellow cat's head and petted the space between his ears.

The yellow cat began to purr again, vibrating against Leshy's lap.

As Leshy began to nod off, he decided since the yellow cat laid on his lap, the petting wasn't 'entitlement.' It was just being fair.

----

The warmth around Leshy was suddenly pulled away, leaving him cold and annoyed.

"Get up," Narinder ordered, dropping the blanket he'd so cruelly taken with a soft plop. "The Lamb says you aren't allowed to keep skipping morning sermons, Leshy."

Leshy groaned, covering his head with his arms. He didn't want to listen to The Little Lamb prattle on, He wanted to listen to--

Leshy pushed himself up and started feeling around for the yellow cat.

"Where did he go?" He demanded of his brother. "Where is he?"

"He?" Narinder asked. "Whom do you mean?"

"You know, him! Ah, um, that—the yellow cat! He was just here!" Leshy threw his hands up in exacerbation. Nothing else lay in the bed beside Leshy.

"Yellow...cat?" Narinder echoed. "Oh, the one I saw sneaking out of your shelter this morning? What was it, Cornelius, Cathleon, Consus? Something with a 'C,' anyway, I think. Or maybe a 'T'? Thornton? Thimothy? Mmm, I cannot remember. If you are bedding him, should you not know?"

He had a sneer in his voice that graded against Leshy's nerves. Leshy clenched his fists. He knew his brother was trying to make him mad—and it was working!

"Do not speak on matters that do not concern you," Leshy grumbled.

Narinder snorted a laugh. "He will be at the sermon. You can go and ask his name there." The shelter's canvas flapped as his brother left. "Or not. It does not matter to me."

Leshy bristled. He stood and his side felt suddenly cold as he recalled the yellow cat leaning against him in the night. He lashed his fist out, hitting the wooden wall in anger. If he ever became a god again, he was going to cull the cat population, or at least any that acted like his damned brother!

He swore under his breath as he headed towards the door. He threw open the canvas. The scent of rain still hung heavy in the air. The wet grass brushed droplets on his ankles and feet as he stepped out. The cult was alive with morning activity. The smell of cooking food made his stomach grumble.

He opened his mouth to shout for his brother when another voice cut him off.

"Mr. Leshy, you are awake!" The yellow cat chirped.

The scent of fresh bread and warm berry jam filled Leshy's nose as the yellow cat pressed a leaf bowl into his hands. "I got you something to eat, as thanks for letting me stay with you last night."

Leshy felt the skin under his leaves heat up at the kind gesture. Before he could answer the yellow cat, from beside his front door, Narinder called, "Why, good morning there."

"Oh, ah, um, good morning, Disciple Narinder," The yellow cat greeted with a touch of embarrassment in his tone.

Narinder chuckled darkly and a shiver crawled up Leshy's spine.

"You know, Leshy was just telling me," Narinder put his hand firmly on Leshy's shoulder and squeezed, "that he was so excited for you to escort him to the temple for the morning sermon."

Leshy started to snap, "I said n--" when he smelled the yeasty bread and sweet jam in his hands and stopped himself. He gritted his teeth. He didn't want to hear that vile creature spew lies and false promises about the afterlife, but, hadn't he decided allies would be useful last night?

He sighed. "I said...I would like to sit in the back. In case, it gets so boring I fall asleep."

Narinder patted his back while chuckling. Leshy whipped his head around in an attempt to take a bite out of his brother, but his teeth snapped against empty air.

With one last, victorious laugh, Narinder whispered in Leshy's ear, "Too easy." before he took his leave.

Leshy threw some of the jam-covered bread in his mouth and chewed loudly, annoyed that he walked right into Narinder's trap. Despite their thousand-year rift, his brother still knew him too well.

The yellow cat covered a laugh with a cough. "You two don't look alike, but I guess you two are really brothers, aren't you?"

"Unfortunately," Leshy muttered. He stepped backwards until his tail brushed the camilla plants around his shelter.

The yellow cat wandered closer to continue their conversation.

"I know he was putting words in your mouth," The yellow cat said. "You should go to the sermon, but I won't drag you if you don't want to go."

Leshy took another bite, chewing slowly as he thought. Finally, he swallowed and asked, "Why are you being so nice? What do you gain from it?"

"'Gain'?" He repeated. "I guess I'd be gaining a friend—and a friend who is an ex-god at that."

"An ex-god who put your god's throat to the blade," Leshy pointed out before he could think better of it.

"But they came back, so it doesn't matter, does it?"

Leshy nearly choked on his food. He had heard rumors that orange cats were as smart as a stack of rocks, but it seemed yellow ones didn't even have that.

The yellow cat patted his back as he coughed. Once he could breathe again, Leshy chuckled with a shake of the head. This cat was something else, and Leshy was starting to like whatever that something was. This cat was no Heket, of course, but he would not be so bad of a friend to have around.

Leshy finished up the last of his breakfast and started ripping up the leaf bowl.

"Well, Let us get this over with," he said, spewing half-chewed bread as he dropped the leaf pieces to the ground.

He held out his hand. When the yellow cat didn't take it, Leshy asked, "Are you going to lead me there or not?"

After a heartbeat, the yellow cat placed his palm against Leshy's, and the two headed toward the temple.

----

AN: This one-shot is dedicated to my cat, Morwen, whom I tripped over and is the reason I have a carpet burn scar on my knee months later. Love you, boo!

#cult of the lamb #oneshot #one shot #leshycat #cotl #cotl leshy #cotl yellow cat #fanfiction #I'm not sure how I feel about this it has some disconnected parts but it will be what it will be

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