#so I’m gonna buy it and probably keep it for myself

[spookykestrel]

When I was a growing up every year my mom would get our nativity set out and my sisters and I would fight over who got to play with it first and divide the pieces among ourselves and create the most fantastical (and likely blasphemous) stories like Mary falling in love with the shepherd and magical floating baby Jesus

[feralsneeze]

Not sneeze just mental health rambling in the tags

[milo-is-rambling]

I LOVE YOU PAST MILO -current Milo nauseas head in a sparkling clean toilet I cleaned literally a half hour ago and then got too high while celebrating how clean it looked and feel sick now😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Aaaa! You survived your first day! And look at you- doing suuuuch a good job staying true to character. Nothing could go wrong… right?

Tag list for the series;

@bitternsweet @tonightwrites @confused-they @lanxianschoenheit @poptrim @siriuslyobsessedwithfiction @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @anonymousdisco @forbidden-sunlight

Tag list closed! Stay tuned for part 3!

[solxamber]

One Date and a Lifetime: Leona Kingscholar x reader

You have chosen Leona! ; aka the times Leona-i-don't-care Kingscholar puts in effort for you;

1k masterlist ; Prologue

You never thought Leona would actually take this date seriously. Honestly, when you first call him, you half expect him to suggest, "Let's just take a nap or something." Instead, his voice is low and smug, almost purring through the phone.

“Sure. I’ll pick you up later. Be ready.”

And just like that, he hangs up before you can ask for specifics. Typical. You're prepared for some half-hearted effort involving him dragging you to a secluded spot to nap under the stars or something like that. But then, a knock sounds at the door of Ramshackle, and there stands Ruggie with a bouquet.

“These are from Leona,” Ruggie says with a grin that’s two parts mischievous, one part disbelief. “He told me to get the ‘good ones,’ whatever that means. I charged him double, by the way.”

You take the flowers, cheeks warming, trying not to feel too charmed by the fact that the laziest lion you know thought to send you flowers. “Compensation good?”

“Let’s just say I’m eating like royalty tonight.” Ruggie winks before scampering off, probably with plans to milk his housewarden’s generosity for the rest of the week.

When Leona finally arrives at your doorstep, you're stunned into silence. He’s dressed to kill, sharp black slacks, a sleek button-up rolled at the sleeves. Effortlessly regal.

"You..." You blink. "You’re somehow even prettier than usual. How is that fair?"

He grumbles, averting his gaze, but you catch the way his chest puffs out just a little. “Tch. Cut it out.”

“Admit it—you love the compliments,” you tease, looping your arm around his as you step outside.

Leona scoffs but doesn’t pull away. “You gonna keep flattering me all night, or are we leaving?”

And so begins the wildest date you could have imagined: Leona, the notorious nap king, escorting you to a local festival, of all things.

You glance up at him as you stroll through the brightly lit stalls. “I thought you hated crowds.”

“I do,” he replies, but then adds in a gruff mutter, “It’s fine if it’s with you.”

Your heart skips a beat. You're lucky he looks so good because you might’ve fainted on the spot otherwise.

At one of the stalls, you spot a mountain of cotton candy, pastel pink and blue fluff that looks like it’ll melt if you so much as breathe on it. You buy a stick and tear off a piece, holding it up to Leona.

“C’mon, try it.”

He eyes the sugary fluff suspiciously. “That’s just sugar and air.”

“Exactly. Now open up.”

With an exaggerated groan, Leona leans down, and you pop the piece into his mouth. His brow furrows as he chews. “Way too sweet.”

But the next time you hold up another piece, he still eats it, grumbling under his breath about “sugar addicts.” You don’t miss the tiny, fond smile that sneaks onto his face, though.

As you continue through the festival, you spot a prize stall lined with plushies, including a little dragon that immediately catches your eye.

“I need that,” you say, determination sparking.

You try... and fail. Repeatedly. Leona watches your attempts with a smirk, arms crossed like he’s enjoying the show.

When you lose for the fifth time, he sighs dramatically. “Move.”

He steps up to the game and, with one smooth flick of his wrist, nails it on the first try. But instead of the dragon plush, he gives the attendant a lazy grin. “The lion.”

When he hands you the lion plush, you stare at it, confused. “What happened to the dragon?”

“Lions are better,” Leona says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “No debate.”

Despite yourself, you can’t help but smile. It’s ridiculous, but it’s him, and somehow that makes it perfect.

Later, when he takes you to an absurdly expensive restaurant, you raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure about this? It’s... kind of pricey.”

He gives you a flat look. “Order whatever you want. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

So, naturally, you do. And the food is fantastic. Leona leans back in his chair, watching you with a lazy smirk as you happily dig into your meal.

When the date winds down and Leona walks you back to Ramshackle, the night air is cool, and you instinctively rub your arms. Without a word, Leona shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

You clutch onto his arm with a grin, snuggling into the warmth. “Thanks, Leona.”

He shakes his head, amused. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Of course you do.” You laugh, leaning against him. “Oh! Did I tell you what Ace and Deuce did earlier today? You won’t believe it.”

He humors you as you chatter away, recounting the latest shenanigans. “So, Grim decided to ‘supervise,’ which really just meant eating half the snacks while Ace accidentally set off the fire alarm—again.”

Leona snorts softly. “Idiots.”

“Yeah, but they’re my idiots.”

When you finally reach Ramshackle’s doorstep, you turn to face him, a little reluctant for the night to end. On a whim, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Leona freezes for half a second, and when you pull away, his expression is somewhere between surprised and utterly smitten.

“Goodnight, Leona,” you say softly, watching as he blinks down at you like you just shattered every lazy expectation he had about this date.

He clears his throat, looking away, but you catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah... night.”

As he turns to leave, you can’t help but feel like you’ve just unlocked a whole new side of him—and you kind of love it.

You’ve been talking about this video game figure for weeks. Every time you hang out with Leona, he hears about it. Well, "hang out" is a generous term—he naps on your lap or leans against you, and you yap his ear off about how amazing the game is and how this figure is the holy grail of limited merch.

“I’ve been doing everything,” you rant one day, lying next to him in the botanical garden. “Crowley made me do ten extra assignments this week. I even agreed to clean Grim’s litter box without arguments—twice! But it’s worth it. If I get that figure, my life will be complete.”

Leona, who’s half-asleep with his head resting on your shoulder, cracks an eye open. “That good, huh?”

“Yes, that good. There are only ten in the world, Leona. Ten.”

He grunts, shifting a little to get more comfortable. “Better hope your luck’s good, herbivore. Sounds like a lotta effort for a toy.”

“It’s not a toy,” you huff dramatically. “It’s a collectible figure, and it’s the coolest thing in existence. Just wait—when it drops tomorrow, I’m getting it.”

And yet, the universe doesn’t care about your efforts.

You stare at your phone screen in disbelief the next day. The site crashes, the countdown ends, and the figure sells out in 0.2 seconds flat. You refresh. Then refresh again. But it’s gone—snatched from your grasp like a mirage in the desert.

“No... no, no, no.” You sit there, devastated, as the weight of your failure sinks in. After all the work, all the chores, and all the emotional speeches to Leona, you’ve been denied. The limited-edition figure remains forever out of reach.

By the time you see Leona later, your mood is somewhere between tragic despair and begrudging acceptance. You find him lounging in the garden again, his favorite napping spot.

“Didn’t get it, huh?” he asks, his voice carrying that lazy drawl as you flop down beside him.

“Nope,” you sigh, resting your forehead on your knees. “All that work, all that hope... and nothing.”

Without another word, Leona pulls something from behind him and chucks it onto your lap.

You blink. Then blink again.

It’s the figure. The figure. THE limited-edition figure you’ve been pining after for weeks.

“Leona???” you squawk, holding it up like it might vanish into thin air if you let go. “What—how—why—?”

He just shrugs. “Still the second prince, y’know.”

“You—" Your jaw drops. “Did you use royalty status to get me this figure?!”

“Yeah.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like he just asked the palace cook to make toast instead of pulling strings for a rare collector’s item.

You gape at him, torn between disbelief and giddiness. “Leona... that’s cheating.”

“So?” He leans back with a satisfied smirk, clearly amused by your reaction. “You wanted it, didn’t you?”

You can’t help it—you burst into laughter, clutching the figure like it’s the greatest treasure ever gifted to you. “You’re impossible.”

Leona tugs you down beside him, trapping you in his arms. “Yeah, yeah. Now quit yappin’ and let me nap.”

Still grinning like a fool, you curl into him, giggling into his hair. “You’re way too good to me, you know that?”

He huffs, but there’s no hiding the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His hand rests lazily against your back, warm and grounding. “Hmph. Lucky I like you.”

And just like that, he drifts off into sleep, his arms snug around you. And you? You lie there, feeling like the happiest person alive, hugging your figure close while Leona naps against you, his soft breaths the perfect lullaby.

The first sign something is wrong comes when Grim tries waking you up for your usual chaos-filled day.

“Hey, get up, henchhuman! We’ve got things to do!” he says, poking your cheek with one of his fluffy paws. “It’s already late! If Crowley gets mad, I ain’t takin' the fall!”

Normally, you’d groan and roll out of bed—or at least threaten Grim with chores—but today? All you can manage is a weak grunt before you flop back onto your pillow like a defeated pancake.

“Henchhuman?” Grim nudges you again, this time with more urgency. You crack one eye open just long enough to see his ears flatten in concern. “Oi, don’t ignore me—what’s wrong?”

Your head is heavy, and it feels like your bones have melted into jelly. You try to say I think I’m dying, but all that comes out is a sad, congested whimper.

Grim’s eyes widen, and suddenly, he’s a blur of blue fur and panic. “You’re dying!” he yells, as if confirming the worst-case scenario. “Don’t go toward the light, henchhuman! I’ll be right back—stay alive!!”

Before you can reassure him—or at least remind him that people don’t die from mild fevers—Grim is already out the door, paws skidding against the floor like a tiny tornado.

Somewhere across campus, Leona is enjoying a particularly satisfying mid-morning nap in the botanical gardens when an absolute menace of a furball barrels into him.

“HEY, YOU! Lion guy!” Grim shouts, climbing onto Leona's chest. “Get up! Henchhuman’s dying!”

Leona cracks open one bleary eye. “Dying?” he repeats with a skeptical grunt, already half-expecting Grim to be overreacting. “Probably just overslept.”

“I know the difference between sleeping and dying!” Grim shrieks, paws batting at Leona’s face. “They're burning up, can’t even sit up! You gotta do something!”

Leona grumbles under his breath, but he’s on his feet before Grim can push him again. The usual lazy slouch is gone, replaced by swift, purposeful movements.

By the time he strides into your room, Leona has already called his personal doctor, much to Ruggie’s dismay (“Do you know what time it is?! Do I get paid overtime for this??”). Leona doesn’t care. He’s moving fast—like a lion with a mission.

It’s a blur after that. You vaguely register a cool hand against your burning forehead, Leona’s voice a low rumble beside you. The doctor checks your pulse, takes your temperature, and declares it’s just a fever with some exhaustion thrown in. Nothing dangerous, but definitely enough to flatten you.

“Hah.” Leona lets out a short sigh of relief, slumping in the chair beside your bed. “Told ya Grim, not dead.”

“Yeah, well…” Grim’s still pacing at the edge of your bed, tail twitching in frustration. “They looked dead, okay?! How was I supposed to know?”

“You weren’t. That’s why I’m here,” Leona says flatly, though his tone is less irritated than usual.

The next few hours pass in a fog of sleep, soft voices, and the occasional pressure of something cool against your skin. Ruggie swings by every now and then to drop off food, grinning as he deposits soup and medicine like it’s some kind of delivery service.

“Man, if I knew babysitting was part of my job description, I’d have charged extra,” Ruggie teases, setting down a tray.

Leona just rolls his eyes. “Get lost, hyena.”

Despite his usual snark, Leona is surprisingly attentive. He makes sure you drink water, feeds you spoonfuls of soup even when you mumble protests, and keeps an arm draped lazily around you when you shiver. If anyone asks, he’ll say it’s just because you’re annoying and need constant supervision.

When you finally come to, it’s because something warm and heavy is curled against you. You blink a few times, head still foggy, and realize it’s Leona—completely sprawled across the chair next to your bed, but with one hand tightly clasping yours.

You smile, warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of him. Carefully, you nudge closer, nestling against his arm. The movement stirs him awake, his golden eyes blinking down at you groggily.

“You awake now?” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

“Barely,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

Leona grunts, but the way his thumb brushes over your knuckles is answer enough.

Just as you’re about to fully enjoy the peace, a loud, dramatic voice cuts through the moment.

“Finally!” Grim bursts into the room, leaping onto your bed. “Took you long enough to wake up! I thought I’d have to hire a priest or somethin’!”

You chuckle softly, the sound a little scratchy. “Didn’t know you cared that much.”

“Pfft! As if.” Grim crosses his arms, looking away with a huff. “I just didn’t wanna be stuck with Crowley as my only companion. He’s useless.”

But despite his words, Grim scrambles onto your lap anyway, curling up against your chest with a grumble. “Don’t get sick again, okay? It’s a pain.”

You pet his fur, grinning as you feel him relax. “Okay, okay. No more dying.”

Leona shifts beside you, rolling his eyes. “What, am I invisible?”

“Shh,” you murmur, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Just let me enjoy my two favorite cats for a minute.”

Leona huffs, but there’s a flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I'm not a cat. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

You grin back at him, and for once, you don’t need words to say thank you. He knows.

You like to think of yourself as a strong person. Someone who can hold their own in this chaotic, magic-ridden school where everything from magical accidents to actual ghost attacks is a typical Tuesday. You’ve handled your fair share of weird situations and even gotten through them without embarrassing yourself too badly. But… you are still a magicless human. And that’s a fact you can’t change.

So when three tall, muscle-bound Savanaclaw students corner you in a dimly-lit corridor on your way to visit Leona, your heart sinks.

"Where ya headin', little herbivore?" The biggest one grins, flashing sharp teeth that remind you just how much worse your day could get.

“Leona’s been hanging out with you a lot, huh?” another one sneers, blocking your path. “Think that makes you special or something?”

"Maybe they've got some kind of deal with him," the third one suggests, his voice dripping with mockery. "How about you tell us what’s really going on between you two?"

Your stomach twists, but you keep your face neutral. No way are you going to let them see how nervous you are. "How about you back off before you embarrass yourselves?" you say, proud of how steady your voice sounds.

The tallest one leans in, his grin widening. “Look at you, acting all tough. Too bad there’s no magic in that mouth of yours.”

You force yourself to hold your ground, though your fingers twitch toward your pocket. You really don’t want to bother Leona, but… well, desperate times. With a quick, discreet motion, you send a single SOS text.

You: Cornered. Help.

The three of them are still jeering at you when you hear footsteps approaching from behind. Slow, measured, and heavy with the kind of weight that makes everyone in the hallway tense.

"Oi," a familiar, low growl cuts through the noise like a hot knife through butter.

All three of them freeze. You glance over your shoulder—and there he is. Leona Kingscholar.

He stands at the end of the corridor, his usual lazy posture replaced by something much sharper, much more dangerous. His emerald eyes gleam with a warning, and a sly, predatory smile spreads across his face.

"Seems like I showed up just in time." His voice is deceptively calm, almost bored. “What do you think you're doin'?”

The boys shift uncomfortably, exchanging nervous glances.

"Just… chatting," one of them stammers, the earlier bravado leaking out of him like air from a punctured balloon.

Leona steps forward, leisurely, as if he’s in no hurry—but there’s something about the way he carries himself that makes the air heavy with tension. His presence fills the space, demanding attention and submission.

"You must be real stupid," Leona drawls, "if you think you can mess with what’s mine."

The tallest boy blanches. “W-We didn’t mean—”

Leona’s grin sharpens, all teeth. "Didn’t mean to what? Annoy me? Make me waste my time on some sad, third-string rejects?"

They flinch, shrinking under the weight of his words. Leona isn’t yelling. He doesn’t have to. His authority is clear—absolute.

One of them mumbles an apology, and the others nod hurriedly, ready to slink away. But Leona’s not done.

“You ever try this again,” he says, his voice dropping into a dangerous purr, “I won’t just kick you out of Savanaclaw. I’ll bury you so deep, nobody’ll even remember your names.”

The boys scatter without another word, practically tripping over each other to escape.

Leona watches them go with a snort, then turns his gaze to you. His sharp expression softens just a fraction, the predatory edge giving way to something lazier—something almost… fond.

“You good?” he asks, as if he didn’t just verbally annihilate three guys on your behalf.

Your heart is racing, but not from fear. No, this is something else entirely. Something far more dangerous. You’re not sure when it happened, but you are completely, utterly smitten.

“Yeah,” you say, trying—and failing—not to sound starstruck.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you tease, a grin tugging at your lips.

“Like you’re impressed.”

“Oh, but I am.”

He grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, but you notice the faintest hint of color creeping up his ears. “Tch. Idiot.”

You laugh softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Thanks for showing up, though.”

Leona shrugs like it’s nothing. "I told ya—just call me when you need me."

That does it. You feel yourself practically glowing at the simple promise, the quiet reassurance beneath his words.

You lean toward him, your grin widening. “What if I need you right now?”

He smirks, draping a lazy arm over your shoulders. “Then I guess I’m stuck with you.”

You let yourself melt into his side, the earlier tension gone like a bad dream. The two of you walk off together, his arm comfortably slung over you like it belongs there.

And, in that moment, you’re pretty sure it does.

The assignment in front of you is a nightmare.

You’ve been staring at the same page for what feels like hours, your head throbbing with frustration. You chew the end of your pen, tapping your foot anxiously against the floor. Why did you leave this for the last minute? Why does it feel like every word on the page is written in an ancient, cursed script meant specifically to drain your soul?

Meanwhile, Leona is draped over you like a weighted blanket, his head resting comfortably on your shoulder. You know he’s napping because of the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing. This man has zero care in the world.

He’s been napping while you’ve been spiraling. Because of course he is.

You mutter curses under your breath, willing the assignment to finish itself. But the numbers swim in front of your eyes, and your breaths grow shorter, more unsteady. Panic claws at the edges of your mind.

Leona stirs. He shifts just slightly, cracking open one eye to glance at you. “Oi,” he grumbles. “Stop breathin’ like you’re about to pass out.”

You ignore him and grip the pen tighter, heart pounding, trying to push through the stress. That’s the worst part about this assignment—if you don’t finish it, your grades will nosedive, and Crowley will never let you hear the end of it.

Suddenly, Leona's hand slips out from around you and snatches the pen from your grip. "Gimme that."

You blink as he pulls the paper closer.

"Leona, what are you—"

"Shh." He flips through the pages like they personally offended him. His eyes scan the questions with the kind of effortless ease that makes you want to scream in frustration. Without so much as a sigh, he picks up the pen and starts writing.

You can only sit there, dumbfounded, as his neat, surprisingly elegant handwriting fills in the answers you’ve been struggling with for hours.

"Wait—are you actually doing my homework?" you ask, staring at him in disbelief.

He glances at you from the corner of his eye, the barest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Told ya. I'm a senior. This stuff’s easy."

"Easy for you, maybe."

“Then why didn’t you ask me earlier?” he drawls, finishing the last answer without breaking a sweat.

You blink at the completed assignment like it might disappear if you look away. "I… didn’t think to."

Leona rolls his eyes and tosses the pen onto the desk with a lazy flick of his wrist. “Next time, just ask. I ain't gonna let you stress yourself out over dumb stuff.”

And that’s it. Just like that, all your anxiety evaporates.

You turn to look at him, utterly smitten once again. "You're ridiculous."

He leans back, resting his head against your shoulder again with a satisfied sigh. “Yeah, yeah.”

You let yourself melt into him, the earlier panic now a distant memory. His warmth, his steady breathing, the way his arms rest loosely around you—it all feels so easy. So right.

For a moment, you just sit there in silence, the peaceful kind that feels rare and precious. The assignment is finished. The world isn't ending. You don’t have to do everything alone.

You tilt your head to rest against his, your smile soft. "Thanks, Leona."

"Mm," he hums, already halfway back to sleep. But his hand gives yours a lazy squeeze, a quiet reassurance that makes your heart skip a beat.

The day passes in a haze of warmth and peace, your stress long gone. And you realize something: being with Leona feels like this—like having someone who makes the hard days bearable, without needing you to say a word.

And yeah, you could definitely get used to this.

You've thought about asking him for weeks. Maybe even months. But every time the words start forming, you chicken out. You’re this close to accepting that you’ll just live in relationship limbo forever.

It’s safer. No awkward conversations, no heartbreak. Just… endless naps together, weird dates that may or may not be dates, and him doing sweet things without ever calling them what they are.

But tonight, as you sit curled up in his arms, watching the stars from a balcony in the botanical gardens, it feels like the moment. Leona is lounging beside you, one arm slung lazily around your shoulders, the other resting on your leg like it's the most natural thing in the world. His warmth is comforting, grounding, and for once, you let yourself think: Maybe, just maybe, this is real.

You take a breath, steeling yourself. If he laughs or acts indifferent, fine. If it ruins everything—okay, not fine, but you'll survive.

“Hey, Leona?”

He hums, eyes still half-lidded. He’s relaxed, probably thinking about nothing except how long it’ll take for him to drag you back to bed.

You clear your throat. “What are we?”

Leona cracks one eye open, giving you a lazy look. “Huh?”

You shift nervously under his gaze. “Like… What is this? Are we—” You gesture vaguely between the two of you. “—a thing? Or… I mean, are you—do you even like me like that? Or—?”

He stares at you for a second, blinking slowly, like a cat woken from a nap it didn’t want to leave. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

You feel your courage start to wither, but you force the words out. “I mean, I thought… We never really said anything official. And I don’t know if this is, you know—” You wave a hand. “Something? Or if you’re just putting up with me or—”

Leona makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh, like you just asked him the dumbest question imaginable.

“You really thought I’d let you hang around me this much if I didn’t want you?” he says, giving you a flat, incredulous look.

You blink at him. “So… we’ve been dating this whole time?”

He just stares at you. “...What else did you think we were doing?”

“Oh my god—” You slap a hand over your face, torn between relief and secondhand embarrassment. “I thought you were just vibing.”

Leona snorts. “Yeah. Vibing with you. Idiot.”

Despite yourself, you laugh—a little breathless, a little giddy. It’s so absurd. All this time, you’d been worried about asking him where you stood, and he just… assumed you knew.

Leona rolls his eyes but shifts slightly, turning to face you. His gaze is softer now, and the usual laziness in it is replaced by something raw and unguarded. His hand, rough and warm, cups your cheek.

“Listen,” he mutters, voice low and a little rough around the edges. “I’m not good at sayin’ stuff like this, so don’t make me repeat it, okay?”

You nod, holding your breath.

“I love you.” The words slip out easily, like they’ve been waiting there all along. “Don’t care what anyone says, don’t care what they think—I'm not good at a lotta things, but I know I want you.”

Your heart stumbles. For a moment, the world feels too quiet, too small. You reach up to cover his hand with yours, warmth spreading through your chest.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, like it's the easiest thing you've ever said.

Leona's lips twitch upward into a faint, self-satisfied smirk, but there’s something vulnerable in the way his gaze lingers on you, like he’s not used to getting what he wants.

“So,” you say softly, “are you my boyfriend now?”

He gives you the look—that deadpan, long-suffering stare, like you’ve just asked him the dumbest question of the century.

“Then what the hell else would I be?” he grumbles.

You can’t help it. You laugh—bright, free, and maybe a little too giddy. And before you can stop yourself, you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips.

The kiss is soft, warm, and it lingers just long enough to make your heart race. He tastes like mint and the faintest hint of something earthy, something that feels like home. His hand slides down to rest at the small of your back, holding you close like he has no intention of letting you go.

When you finally pull away, you grin at him, still breathless. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah, well.” He smirks, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Good,” you whisper, and this time, it’s him who leans in.

And just like that, the world slips away, leaving only the two of you—wrapped in warmth, in laughter, in everything you never knew you needed.

Leona saunters into your room, hands in his pockets, tail flicking lazily behind him. “Hey, Falena and his family are visiting today,” he says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

You blink at him from your bed, mid-scroll on your phone. “You mean the King and Queen of the Sunset Savanna are visiting.”

Leona shrugs. “Yeah. Same thing.”

You sit bolt upright. “Leona, that’s not the same thing! Those are literal royals!"

He raises an eyebrow, already amused. “I’m royalty too, you know?”

You groan, dragging your hands down your face. “But you’re my boyfriend!”

Leona’s smirk grows as smug as the desert sun. “Exactly.���

Oh no. He’s loving this way too much.

Despite your protests, you're soon standing next to Leona at the main entrance, sweating bullets as Falena, his wife, and Cheka step through the doors. They’re all gorgeous and elegant, the epitome of royal perfection. You’re about to pass out from nerves, but Leona? He looks like he’s two seconds away from falling asleep on his feet.

Cheka spots you first. “UNCLE LEONA!” he shrieks, barreling straight for his favorite uncle—and by extension, you. Before you can brace for impact, the little lion cub is already latched onto your legs.

“You must be the one Leona told us about!” Falena grins warmly, stepping up beside his wife, who’s equally radiant. “It’s so nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

You gawk at him. “Wait... Leona talks about me?”

Falena’s wife smiles knowingly. “Quite a bit, actually.”

You shoot Leona a look, but he just rolls his eyes. “Don’t get weird about it.”

Meanwhile, Cheka, still latched to your leg like a koala, looks up with big, bright eyes. “You’re my favorite person now!” he declares, squeezing your leg tighter. “After Uncle Leona. But you’re mine after him, okay?”

Leona huffs out a laugh, amused by the possessive cub. “Tch. Good luck, kid.”

“I’ll fight for you!” Cheka promises dramatically, like you’re a prize to be won at a carnival. He even makes little fists, shadow-boxing an invisible opponent. “I’ll become a strong lion and beat all the bad guys!”

You try (and fail) to hold back a laugh. “Well, I look forward to it.”

Falena claps his hands together, his grin brighter than the savanna sun. “Since we’re all here, how about a walk around the grounds? It’ll be nice to catch up.”

“Nope.” Leona’s arm is suddenly wrapped around your waist, dragging you closer to him. “We’re good right here.”

Falena and his wife exchange that look—the kind that says they’ve been married long enough to know exactly what’s going on.

“We’ll leave you two alone, then,” Falena says with a chuckle, patting Leona on the shoulder. “We’re happy for you, Leona.”

His wife nods, her eyes twinkling. “Very happy.”

You open your mouth to protest—Wait, this isn’t what it looks like! We’re just standing here! I’m not even sure what’s happening!—but the words don’t come. You just sputter and blush as Leona tugs you closer, looking far too pleased with himself.

“See?” Leona murmurs smugly, lips quirking into a grin as you bury your face in your hands. “Told you it wasn’t a big deal.”

You groan into your palms. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” His grip tightens just a bit, his voice low and lazy as ever. “C’mon. Admit it—you like having a royal boyfriend.”

You peek through your fingers, cheeks burning. “Leona...”

He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Say it.”

You glare up at him, flustered beyond belief but unable to hide the smile creeping onto your face. “...Okay, maybe I do.”

He hums in satisfaction, practically purring. “Thought so.”

And just like that, he pulls you into a lazy, one-armed hug, as if holding you is the easiest thing in the world—and honestly? It kind of is.

The moment the news breaks that you’re dating Leona, you know it’s going to be a thing. A very loud thing. Ace and Deuce are the first to get wind of it, and honestly, you almost regret ever telling them.

“Leona Kingscholar?!” Ace yells, gaping like you just told him you were moving to Mars.

“Why??” Deuce adds, equally stunned. “Are you okay? Blink twice if you're in danger.”

“Isn’t he the guy who naps literally everywhere?” Ace squawks. “Like, you’re really dating a guy who falls asleep during fights?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, Ace. I am.”

“Not to mention he’s scary,” Deuce mutters. “What if he, I don’t know, kicks you out of the relationship because it’s too much work?”

“He’s not going to ‘kick me out,’ Deuce.”

Ace leans in conspiratorially, wiggling his eyebrows. “Have you thought about what happens when Riddle finds out?”

Deuce pales. “Oh man, I’m not telling him.”

“You’re definitely telling him.”

“No, you tell him!”

“Do I look like I have a death wish?” Ace scoffs. “I can already hear him screaming something about ‘poor romantic judgment!’”

Meanwhile, Jack is sitting with his arms crossed, brow furrowed. “I don’t know why you’re all acting like this. Housewarden Leona’s actually cool if you get to know him.”

Ace stares at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “Jack, the man once threatened to ‘accidentally’ kick me into a bush because I sneezed near him.”

“Yeah, because you sneezed on him.”

“It was allergy season!”

“Uh-huh.” Jack shrugs. “Still deserved it.”

Before you can jump in, Grim waddles in, arms crossed like the world’s smallest mafia boss. “I don’t care who you date as long as you’re still my henchhuman. Priorities, ya know?”

“Gee, thanks, Grim.”

Then, from across the room, Epel starts cackling like a madman.

“Oh, Vil is gonna lose his mind when he hears about this!” he wheezes, clutching his stomach. “Leona’s the exact opposite of Vil’s whole life philosophy. This is beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Ace adds, smirking. “It’s like watching two completely different wildlife documentaries crash into each other.”

Before you can stop him, Sebek jumps in, indignant. “I cannot believe you would choose that lazy lout over the Young Master!” He practically growls the words.

“Sebek, Leona is—” you try to reason, but Sebek steamrolls right over you.

“He sleeps through his classes! He’s rude! And worst of all, he doesn’t respect Master Malleus!”

You sigh. “Sebek, you can’t date someone based on their respect levels for Malleus.”

“You should!” Sebek declares, crossing his arms dramatically like a lawyer who just delivered the winning argument.

Before things spiral further, Jack mutters, “Leona’s not rude. He’s just… efficient with his energy.”

“Efficient? He calls that one freshman ‘footstool,’ Jack,” Ace deadpans.

“Maybe it’s a term of endearment,” Jack grumbles defensively.

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. The whole scene is chaotic—Ace flailing, Epel wheezing, Sebek looking personally offended, Deuce still white-knuckling through the idea of telling Riddle—and somehow, it’s perfect.

Because deep down, you know something they don’t.

Even though Leona doesn’t show it, even though he hates doing anything that even smells like effort, he cares. He really does. Whether it’s texting you to remind you to eat, draping his jacket over you when you forget yours, or waking you up from an accidental nap with your favorite snack—he makes sure you know.

You just smile quietly to yourself, heart warm. And when Ace notices and nudges you, asking what’s got you looking so smug, you just shrug.

“Oh, nothing,” you say, already counting down the minutes until you can see Leona again.

Because even though the man drives you up the wall and naps like a professional, he’s yours. And that makes all the teasing worth it.

1k masterlist ; Main Masterlist

i know lions don't purr but in my delusions, leona does. work with me here

[jjscrybaby]

no one hurts you.

rafe cameron x fem!reader | angst | (attempted sa, murder, rafe being the best bf ever🥰)

thankyou for the req anon! i switched some stuff up, i didn’t want to add a new character (rafe’s brother like you requested) so i used topper instead bc i hate that man🙂‍↕️

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

“Do you have to go?” You huffed, pouting up at your boyfriend as the two of you stood by the front door. You were covering it, arms crossed over your chest to try and stop him from going.

Rafe let out an amused chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. “It’s just a night, baby. We’ve spent longer apart.”

“Yeah, and when you came back you promised never to leave me again,” you whined, stomping your foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He just carried on smirking down at you, used to your behaviour after three years together.

You’d stuck by his side through everything. He got locked up, for four months after an incident with a Pogue. It was supposed to be three years, but a mixture of good behaviour and a lot of payments had him out early. It had been six months since he got out, and he’d matured incredibly. He didn’t pick fights anymore, he hadn’t touched a line of coke since before jail, and he was finally working a proper job rather than doing drug deals for Barry. You were utterly proud of him, until now.

He had a business meeting on the mainland, and he’d decided to book a hotel for the night so that he didn’t have to travel twice in one day. You were definitely unhappy with that decision, considering you hadn’t spent a second away from him since he came back home.

“Look, you’re gonna be fine. Top’s gonna come over later to hang out, and I’ll call you after the meeting. Now be a good girl and stop pouting, if this deal goes well I’ll buy you that necklace you keep lookin’ at,” he stated, making your pout vanish.

You grinned up at him, nodding your head. “Mkay. Promise you’ll call?”

“Promise,” he murmured, leaning down to press a loving kiss to your lips. You tried to keep ahold of his shoulders to stop him from pulling away, but he just smirked and eased you off of him. “See you tomorrow, gorgeous.”

“Bye,” you mumbled, another pout appearing on your lips as you realised he was actually leaving.

He patted your cheek, giving you one more fleeting kiss before he walked out the door. You didn’t move from the doorway until he’d got into the car and driven away, waving at you as he went.

You spent the majority of the day trying to distract yourself, watching rom-coms, cleaning up the house, making dinner. It was six pm when the doorbell rang, you’d honestly forgotten that Topper was coming over so when you opened the door to see him stood with a bottle of wine and a six-pack you were shocked.

“Oh, hey, Top,” you greeted, moving out the way to let him in. “You didn’t actually have to come, I’m okay by myself.”

“Rafe wanted me to stop by,” Topper shrugged, giving you a charming smile as he walked further into the home that you and Rafe had recently purchased (or Rafe had purchased and you just came along). “I can leave, if you don’t want me here.”

“No, no. The company would be nice.” It was the truth, you weren’t used to being alone and you’d started to go a little crazy with the amount of movies you’d watched.

Topper had been Rafe’s good friend for awhile, but since Rafe got out of jail and became a better man they didn’t hang out as much. Topper was still pretty immature, partying as much as he possibly could, hooking up with random chicks and texting Rafe details he didn’t need to know. He was also still big on the drug use, and Rafe knew he couldn’t be around that. But, no matter what, they were close friends, and he trusted him to take care of you.

“Cool. I brought you some wine, know you aren’t a huge fan of beer,” he teased, holding the bottle out to you.

You tilted your head, accepting it with a cautious smile. “Didn’t realise we would be drinking.”

“Yeah, well, I figured you’re probably grumpy with Rafe gone and a drink could loosen you up.” He winked, trying to portray his words as a joke, but something about his tone made your chest tighten uncomfortably.

“Right,” you agreed with an awkward laugh. “Um, we can sit in the living room.”

You’d poured yourself a glass of wine, but you’d only had a few sips. Topper, on the other hand, had finished five out of six of the beers. You’d started off on opposite sides of the couch, but over the last half an hour he’d slowly edged his way closer to you. You’d noticed it, of course you had, but you were trying not to think anything of it. He was Rafe’s friend, he was here as a favour, you felt guilty for feeling so uncomfortable around him.

“I like that skirt,” Topper murmured, hazy eyes looking your outfit up and down.

“Um, thanks. Rafe got it for me,” you said, tugging it down as you noticed it had ridden up.

Topper’s fingers brushed against your skirt, your whole body tensed up. “It’s nice.”

“Thankyou,” you replied, trying to move away from him without it being noticeable. Except that was impossible, and he picked up on it immediately.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he faced you. You shook your head, giving him a shaky smile. “C’mon, have some more wine.”

You didn’t want more wine, you wanted to kick him out and go to bed, but he’d come all the way here, and he’d paid for the bottle, you felt rude to not drink it. You reached for your glass and took a few more sips, his eyes watching your every move.

“There we go,” Topper grinned as the last sip went down your throat, you grimaced at the sour taste and put the glass back down on the coffee table.

Another twenty minutes went by, Rafe’s meeting would be over soon and he’d promised to call. You wanted Topper out by then, so you could have a conversation without feeling like a bad hostess. You turned to him, noticing how his eyes were already on you.

“Um, it’s getting late…” you hinted, messing with your necklace.

“I thought maybe I could stay over.” Your eyes widened at his words, you were certain Rafe wouldn’t have suggested that. Him being here for an hour or two was fine, but for the night? You didn’t want that, and you were sure your boyfriend wouldn’t either.

Before you could even respond, his hand landed on your thigh. Your words got caught in your throat, heart racing with anxiety as you stared down at his hand. His rings were cold against your skin, his thumb starting to rub circles into your inner thigh as he edged his hand higher and higher.

You jumped up, staring at him like he’d lost his mind. “I think you should leave now, Topper.”

“What?” He laughed, looking up at you as if it was you that had done something wrong. “Seriously? I’m not going to tell Rafe, a’ight? You don’t need to worry about that.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You exclaimed.

Topper stood up, towering over you with a scowl on his face. “Stop acting dumb. I know how you feel about me, I’ve seen the looks. I mean, shit, wearing that tiny skirt when you knew I was coming over.”

“I— I forgot you were coming, Top. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I’m happy with Rafe—” you started to ramble, hands growing sweaty.

“Bullshit!” Topper snapped, glaring down at you. “You want me, I know you do.” His hands landed on your hips, gripping so tightly you were sure it would leave a mark. You shoved at his chest, but he didn’t move. He leant down and tried to kiss you, which had you using all your strength to pull out of his embrace and rush out the room.

You ran all the way upstairs, to your shared bedroom with Rafe, and locked the door behind you. You sat by the window, breathing heavily with tears down your cheeks as you waited to see him leave. After twenty minutes of him yelling at you through the locked door, he finally departed. It was only once he was out of sight that you ran downstairs and locked all the doors and windows.

Rafe called you as you were pacing the bedroom, you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

It didn’t take a genius to notice you were acting off. It had been a week since Rafe returned, and you’d been jumpy, flinching every time he leaned down to kiss you, pushing him away when he’d try and initiate something, anything.

He was sick of it. At first he’d thought you were just being a brat because he’d left, figured you’d be back in his arms by the next day, but nothing had changed and he was starting to feel as if you weren’t even his girlfriend anymore.

“You comin’ to bed?” He asked, looking at where you sat on the opposite side of the couch; eyes hardly open as you stared at the tv.

“After this episode. You can go,” you mumbled. It was the same every night, you’d wait until he was asleep to crawl into bed even when you were falling asleep.

“Alright, enough of this shit,” he snapped, making you look over at him in surprise.

“What?”

“Why are you actin’ like this? Did I do somethin’?” He asked, begged, for an answer. You opened your mouth to answer, but all that came out was a choked sob. His anger faded and was replaced with panic, he moved so he was sat right up next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Baby, just talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t,” you argued through a sob, covering your face with your hands.

He pulled your hands away, hands on your face to force you to look at him. “Yes, you can. You can tell me anything. Just tell me what the problem is and I’ll fix it, okay? I’m worried, baby. You’ve been bein’ so weird the last week.”

You thought you’d be able to get over it, thought maybe it wouldn’t bother you all that much, but every time you took a second to think you’d be reminded of what happened. Topper’s hands on your hips, the look in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you. You didn’t want to tell Rafe, what if he was mad at you? What if he believed that you really had given Topper signs?

“Something happened when you were away,” you whispered shakily, big tears running down your cheeks. You couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore, you had to tell him.

“What happened?” He murmured softly, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone.

“When— when Topper came ‘round, he…” you trailed off, shaking your head. “I can’t say it.”

His eyes narrowed, fear taking over. “What did Topper do?” His tone wasn’t soft anymore, it was angry, dark, you hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since before he went to jail.

“He… he was touchy, too touchy, he tried to kiss me,” you confessed, feeling both relief and panic at the fact you’d finally told him the truth. “He was saying loads of stuff, about how he’s seen the way I look at him and that he knew I liked him. I promise, Rafe, I don’t know what he’s talking—”

“Hey,” Rafe cut you off, tone sharp. “Non of this is your fault, you hear me? I’m not mad at you, I’m not disappointed in you, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

A sigh of relief left your lips as you collapsed into his chest, sobbing as you clung to him. He stroked your hair, mumbling praise into your ear to try and calm you down. Eventually, you exhausted yourself so much that you fell asleep against his chest. He lifted you up and carried you to bed, but instead of getting in beside you he grabbed his gun from the bedside table and left the house.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

When you woke up the next morning the space beside you was empty. Your head hurt from all the crying you’d done, your eyes felt heavy but you forced yourself out of bed. You walked downstairs, finding Rafe sat at the kitchen counter with an unfamiliar phone in his hand.

“Rafe?” You murmured tiredly, moving to stand next to him. He looked up at you, bags under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept a wink. His arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you into his lap.

“Hey, you sleep okay?” He asked softly, kissing your temple as he kept his eyes on the phone.

“Yeah… what’re you doing up?” You questioned. There was a look in his eyes, manic and angry. You ran your hand over his cheek, making his eyes flicker over to you.

“Listen, baby, I need you to do somethin’ for me. Somethin’ I promised you’d never have to do again,” he sighed.

“What is it?” You asked worriedly.

“If anyone asks, I was here, with you, all of last night,” he stated, making your eyes narrow in confusion.

“Were you not here all night?” You stared at him, waiting for him to give you an explanation.

He didn’t get the chance, because the next thing you know your phone is pinging with a text from Sarah. Have you heard the news about Topper? Followed by: is Rafe okay?

“Rafe, what happened to Topper?” You asked shakily, looking between him and your phone.

“He got what he deserved,” Rafe replied bluntly. He leant in a kissed your cheek. “I’m sorry, baby. I took it too far, I know that. But no one hurts you, no one.”

You should have been horrified, running from him or calling the cops, but you didn’t want to do either of those things. You leant in and pressed your lips to his, his arms around you tightening.

It was no secret that Rafe would kill for you, you just never thought it would actually happen.

[anim-ttrpgs]

Help Save the World of TTRPGs and Their Creators.

Okay I’m being a little dramatic, but at the same time I’m pretty serious. This is a call to action, and the livelihoods of myself and lots of other people, many of them (like myself) disabled, are depending on it. This is a post about why, what you can do about it, and (perhaps least often answered) how.

This post is actually an accompaniment to another discussion by someone else. If you don’t want to listen to a 90-minute in-depth discussion of much of what I’m about to tell you, you can just keep reading. Otherwise, click here or here and listen to this either before or after you read this post. (They’re the same thing, just different sources.)

If you have ever made or reblogged posts urging people to switch from Google Chrome to Firefox, you should be willing to at least give a try to other TTRPGs besides D&D5e for much the same principle reasons. I’m not telling you you have to hate D&D5e, and I’m not telling you you have to quit D&D5e, I’m just asking you to try some other games. If you don’t like them, and you really want to go back to D&D5e, then go back to D&D5e. But how can you really know you won’t like other games if you have literally never tried them? This post is a post about why and how to try them. If you’re thinking right now that you don’t want to try them, I urge you to look below to see if any of your reasons for not wanting to try them are covered there. Because the monopoly that WotC’s D&D5e has on TTRPGs as a whole is bad for me as a game designer, and it’s bad for you as a game player. It’s even bad for you if you like D&D5e. A fuller discussion of the why and how this is the case can be found in the links above, but it isn’t fully necessary for understanding this post, it’ll just give you a better perspective on it.

If you’re a D&D5e player, I’m sure at some point or another, you’ve been told “play a different game”, and it must get frustrating without the context of why and how. This post is here to give you the why and how.

[The following paragraph has been edited because the original wording made it sound like we think all weird TTRPGs suck.]

Before that though, one more thing to get out of the way. I'm going to level with you. There’s a lot of weird games out there.

You are gonna see a lot of weird TTRPGs when you take the plunge. Many of them try to completely reinvent what a TTRPG even is, and some fail spectacularly, others really do even up doing something very interesting even if they don't end up being what a core TTRPG player wants. But not every indie RPG is a Bladefish, lots and lots of them are more 'traditional' and will feel very familiar to you, I promise. (And you might even find that you like the weird experimental bladefish type ones, these are usually ideal for one-session plays when your usual group can't play your usual game for any reason.)

You're also going to probably see a lot of very bad games, and man have I got some stories of very bad games, but for now I'm just saying to make sure you read the reviews, or go through curators (several of which will be listed below), before you buy.

Now that that is out of the way, I’m going to go down a list of concerns you may have for why not, and then explain the how.

“I don’t want to learn a whole new set of rules after I already spent so much time learning D&D5e.”

Learning a new set of rules is not going to be as hard as you think. Most other TTRPGs aren’t like that. D&D5e is far on the high end of the scale for TTRPGs being hard and time-consuming to learn and play. If you’ve only played D&D5e, it might trick you into thinking that learning any TTRPG is an overwhelmingly time-consuming task, but this is really mostly a D&D5e problem, not a TTRPG problem as a whole.

“D&D5e has all of these extra online tools to help you play it.”

So what? People have been playing TTRPGs without the help of computers for 50 years. To play a well-designed TTRPG you won’t need a computer. Yes, even if you're bad at math. There are some TTRPGs out there that barely even use math.

“I’m too invested in the narrative and characters of my group’s current ongoing D&D5e campaign to switch to something else.”

There are other games, with better design made by better people for less money, that are the same kind of game as D&D5e, that your current characters, lore, and plot will fit right into and do it better. And no, it's not just Pathfinder, there's others.

“I can’t afford to play another TTRPG.”

You probably can. If you’ve only played D&D5e, you might have been made to think that TTRPGs are a very expensive hobby. They aren’t. D&D5e is actually uniquely expensive, costing more than 3x more than the next most expensive TTRPG I can think of right now. Even on the more expensive end, other TTRPG books will cost you no more than $60, most will cost you less than $20, and a whole lot of them are just free. If you somehow still can’t afford another TTRPG, come to the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book club mentioned below, nominate the game, and if it wins the vote we will straight up buy it for you.

(By the way, if you had any of the above concerns about trying other games besides D&D5e, that really makes it sound like you are in a textbook abusive relationship with D&D5e. This is how abusers control their partners, and how empires control their citizens, by teaching you to think that nothing could ever get any better, and even though they treat you bad, the Other will treat you even worse.)

“If I don’t play D&D5e, which TTRPG should I play?”

That’s a pretty limited question to be asking, because there will be no one TTRPG for everything. And no, D&D5e is not the one TTRPG for everything, Hasbro’s marketing team is just lying to you. (Pathfinder and PbtA are not the one system for everything either!) Do you only play one video game or only watch one movie or only read one book? When you finish watching an action movie like Mad Max, and then you want to watch a horror movie, do you just rewind Mad Max and watch it over again but this time you act scared the whole time? No, you watch a different movie. I’m asking you to give the artistic medium of TTRPGs the same respect you would give movies.

“I want to play something besides D&D5e, but my friends won’t play anything else!”

I have several answers to this.

Try showing them this post.

If that doesn’t work: Make them. Put your foot down. This works especially well if you are the DM. Tell them you won’t run another session of D&D5e until they agree to give what you want to do at least one try instead of always doing only what they want to do. This is, like, playing 101. We learned this in kindergarten. If your friend really wants to play something else, you should give their game a try, or you’re not really being a very good friend.

If that doesn’t work, find another group. This doesn’t even mean that you have to leave your existing group. A good place to start would be the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club which will be mentioned and linked below. You can also go to the subreddit of any game you’re interested in and probably meet people there who have the same problem you do and want to put together a group to play something other than D&D5e. You might get along great with these people, you might not, but you won’t know until you try. Just make sure to have a robust “session zero” so everyone is on the same page. This is a good practice for any group but it is especially important for a group made of players you’ve just met.

“I only watch actual plays.”

Then watch actual plays of games that aren’t D&D5e. These podcasts struggle for the same reasons that indie RPGs struggle, because of the brand recognition and brand loyalty D&D5e has, despite their merit. I don’t watch actual plays, or else I would be able to list more of them. So, anyone who does watch actual plays, please help me out by commenting on this post with some non-D&D5e actual plays you like. And please do me a favor and don’t list actual plays that only play one non-D&D5e system, list ones that go through a variety of systems. The first one I can think of is Tiny Table.

“I can just homebrew away all the problems with D&D5e.”

Even though I want to, I’m not going to try and argue that you can’t actually homebrew away all the problems with D&D5e. Instead, I’m going to ask you why you’re buying two $50 rulebooks just to throw away half the pages. In most other good RPGs, you don’t need to change the rules to make them fun, they’re fun right out the box.

“But homebrewing D&D5e into any kind of game is fun! You can homebrew anything out of D&D5e!”

Firstly, I promise that this is not unique to D&D5e. Secondly, then you would probably have more fun homebrewing a system that gives you a better starting point for reaching your goal. Also, what if I told you that there are entire RPG systems out there that are made just for this? There are RPG systems that were designed for the purpose of being a toolbox and set of materials for you to work with to make exactly the game you want to make. Some examples are GURPS, Savage Worlds, Basic RolePlaying, Caltrop Core, and (as much as I loathe it) PbtA.

“I’m not supporting WotC’s monopoly because I pirate all the D&D5e books.”

Then you’re still not supporting the smaller developers that this monopoly is crushing, either.

Now, here’s the how. Because I promise you, there’s not just one, but probably a dozen other RPGs out there that will scratch your exact itch.

Here’s how to find them. This won’t be a comprehensive list because I’ve already been typing this for like 3 hours already. Those reading this, please go ahead and comment more to help fill out the list.

First, I’m gonna plug one of my own major projects, because it’s my post. The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club. It’s a discord server that treats playing TTRPGs like a book club, with the goal of introducing members to a wide variety of games other than D&D5e. RPGs are nominated by members, then we hold a vote to decide what to read and play for a short campaign, then we repeat. There is no financial, time, or schedule investment required to join this book club, I promise it is very schedule-friendly, because we assign people to different groups based of schedule compatibility. You don’t have to play each campaign, or any campaign, you can just read along and participate in discussion that way. And if you can’t afford to buy the rulebook we’re going to be reading, we will make sure you get a PDF of it for free. That is how committed we are to getting non-D&D5e RPGs into people’s hands. Here is an invite link.

Next, there are quite a few tumblr blogs you can follow to get recommendations shown to you frequently.

@indierpgnewsletter

@indie-ttrpg-of-the-day

@theresattrpgforthat

@haveyouplayedthisttrpg

@indiepressrevolution

Plenty of podcasts, journalists, and youtubers out there do in-depth discussions of different systems regularly, a couple I can think of off the top of my head are:

Storyteller Conclave (I’m actually going to be interviewed live on this show on April 10th!)

Seth Skorkowsky

Questing Beast

The Gaming Table

Rascal News

Lastly, you can just go looking. Browse r/rpg, drivethrurpg.com, indie press revolution, and itch.io.

Now, if you really want to support me and my team specifically Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, our debut TTRPG, is going to launch on Kickstarter on April 10th and we need all the help we can get. Set a reminder from the Kickstarter page through this link.

If you’re interested in a more updated and improved version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy than the free demo you got from our website, there’s plenty of ways to get one!

Subscribe to our Patreon where we frequently roll our new updates for the prerelease version!

Donate to our ko-fi and send us an email with proof that you did, and we’ll email you back with the full Eureka prerelease package with the most updated version at the time of responding! (The email address can be found if you scroll down to the bottom of our website.)

We also have merchanise.

[bullet-prooflove]

Buck + ferry ⛴️ flowers 💐 firetruck 🚒

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mckinleysbones @sophiah2253 @qutequeersstuff @gatefleet

Buck meets you at Catalina Island during a call out. You’re dangling from a top rope halfway down a cliff face, rendering first aid to another climber, whose hanging 50 feet up in the air after knocking himself unconscious. It takes them a while to get down to you, they’ve come by air rescue because the fire truck can’t make the ferry trip to the island. They have to find the right anchor points to rappel down safely, bringing their kit and a backboard with them.

He can tell you’re on the job from the way you relay the information regarding the other Luis, the other climber’s condition. You use the same terminology, talk in a calm precise manner and you’re not squeamish, especially not about the bone that’s sticking out of the guy’s arm.

“They’ll get him down and then I’ll clip you in with me, the two of us we’ll go down together ok?” He says to you as Eddie and Chim begin to guide Luis’s form further down the cliff face.

“Honey,” You drawl, fixing him with a shrewd stare. “Trust me, I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way down.”

Honey…

For some reason the term makes Buck’s cheeks color.

As you start the descent it becomes clear to him that you’re a skilled climber, your movements are smooth, careful and in coordination with his own. The two of you set a quick pace as you abseil down the cliff. If it were any other circumstance he’d probably find it fun, but Luis has just woken up and he’s screaming blue murder because he’s just realised his forearm looks like something out of a gore movie.

“You’re one of us aren’t you.” He says when you both reach the bottom and you give him a quizzical look as you unclip the carabiner from your rope. “A firefighter?”

“Mountain rescue.” You tell him loosening the harness around your waist. “I usually work out of the national park. Today’s my day off, I thought I’d get some time in on a different rockface so I came out here to the island and then-” You gesture to Luis, shaking your head. “- your guy over there ends up bashing himself on a couple of boulders trying to get a picture with those flowers sticking out for the ‘gram.”

He's about to respond when Bobby calls out to him, he turns his head to acknowledge the words and by the time he turns back you’re already walking away to pack up your kit. He guesses you won’t be doing much more climbing today.

He can’t stop thinking about you on the way back, he takes out his phone and Googles the Los Angeles Mountain Rescue website, he finds your name on the Team Section. He spends the rest of the shift going through your Instagram feed, scrolling through your pictures, getting a sense of the person you are.

Fun, adventurous, a little wild, a little soft.

All traits that appeal to Buck in a partner.

“Are you gonna keep cyber stalking her?” Chimney asks as he drops down on the couch alongside him. “Or are you actually gonna do something about it?”

Sliding into your DMs reminds him of his dating app days and Buck, he’s not looking for something casual, he wants to settle down, experience something real.

It’s a few days later that you run into each other, literally. He’s grabbing a smoothie order for the firehouse when he collides with you in the doorway, he’s skimming through your feed again, whilst you have your eyes fixed firmly on your own screen. He apologises as he knocks the phone out of your hand, bending down to pick it up and that’s when he sees it. His profile live on your screen. It looks like he’s not the only one that’s been doing a little cyber stalking.

“I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself the other day.” He says as he hands the phone back to you. “I’m Buck.”

Love Eddie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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[syluscore]

Leon's Special Recipes

~neighbor! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

randomly had to write this at 3 am last night. definitely leaves space for a part two if anybody's interested, but i do ask for an idea on how it should go! how would you react in this situation?

Word count: 1068

Content warning: nonconsensual cum eating, male masturbation

!!!!!GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+! MINORS DNI!!!!!

“Hi, Leon! Come on in,” You open your front door wide for your neighbor. You live in adjacent townhouses, him living on the end so you’re his only true neighbor.

He steps into your entryway and kicks off his shoes. “So, what brings you here?” He pushes a plastic container into your hands. You open it up and are met with the sweet smell of cookies. “What’s all this?”

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “Oh, nothing really. Trying new things; new hobbies and such. Trying my hand at baking and needed a taste tester. Luckily for me, I have a neighbor with a sweet tooth.”

You aren’t looking at him as he speaks, rummaging around in the container of freshly baked sweets. “Oh my God! Chocolate chip?” You pull a cookie out and take a huge bite, eyes rolling into the back of your head as the sugar and gooey chocolate hit your taste buds.

You moan out happily and Leon can’t help but smile widely at you, while also shifting his hips to hide his hardening cock from the sounds you’re making–but that’s not important right now. 

You swallow the bite down quickly before taking another. You talk with your mouth full, doing your best to cover your mouth with your hand, but too excited to bother with proper manners. “These are amazing, Leon! How many did you make?”

“Oh, about a dozen. I did keep some for myself. If a man won’t eat his own product, then it’s not a product worth sharing,” He lies through his teeth. He made a half dozen cookies especially for you. They’re not for him, or anyone else at all for that matter. Only you.

You finish a whole cookie and lead him into the kitchen. “Thank you, Leon. That’s so thoughtful. These aren’t going to last long over here. Can’t control myself around sweets.” Perfect. Knew his girl was greedy and it’s working in his favor so nicely. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thinking about trying peanut butter, oatmeal, white chocolate, and sugar cookies. Gotta keep myself busy when I’m not working, you know?”

You reach into the container and pull out another cookie. “Sorry, my mouth started watering at the sound of all of those. You gonna stop at cookies or are you going to expand your baking resume into other goodies?”

He hums thoughtfully, “Maybe. You like cupcakes?”

You smile brightly at him, pure joy in your eyes, “I love them!”

He was hoping you would. He’s been looking at homemade frosting recipes and he thinks he could make a pretty good batch of it. It’d be easy to slip his secret ingredient into those. Yeah. Next time he’s at the store, he’ll buy them out of cupcake supplies. Gonna keep you fully stocked on them. 

“I’m glad we can help each other. I got someone to eat my treats and you get treats.” You nod your head as you nibble on your second cookie. “Anyway, sweetheart. Can’t hang around long, got an early morning tomorrow.” More lies. If he doesn’t get his hand around his cock within the next 5 minutes, he just might come in his pants. 

“Oh, of course. Let me walk you out!” You finish your cookie before walking over to the sink and washing your hands, drying them quickly on your pants before leading him back to the front door.

He’s slipping his shoes back on as you thank him again and he quickly heads out the door, for the safety and privacy of his own home. 

He practically slams his front door and locks it before his hands undo his belt, yanking his cock from his jeans and groaning out as his hand squeezes the base. 

He’s not sure where he read it online, or what he was even looking at to find such a thing. Probably a Reddit thread or some gross porn flick. But as soon as he got the idea to put his semen in food, he couldn’t keep himself from feeding it to you. 

He was constantly popping an erection the days leading up to baking your special cookies. But he kept from touching himself so he’d be loaded and desperate when it came time for your filling. When he was finally ready to add his come to the batter, all it took was a few strokes for him to shoot the fattest load he’s ever managed by himself. 

He quickly shoved his dick back in his pants as he stirred it in and poured them onto a non-stick pan. He was still so pent up, he was hard again before the cookies were even done baking. 

He made 6 average size cookies and 1 mini one. He didn’t really enjoy the idea of eating his own semen cookies, but he had to try it to make sure you couldn’t taste something off. He didn’t think it would make any sort of difference, he maintains an okay diet so he doesn’t taste half bad. But he needed to be thorough because he was desperate for this plan to work out.

And as soon as he popped that mini cookie in his mouth and started chewing, he knew you were going to love them. So many chocolate chips and sugar, it’s a sweets lover’s wet dream. He laid them out to cool while he cleaned up and by time the mess was gone, the cookies were cooled down enough to bring to you. So he cleaned himself up, packed up the cookies and walked over to your place.

Within minutes of returning to his own house, he’s leaned back on his couch, shirt stuffed in his mouth as he shoots more come across his abs. His mind is filled with the fresh memories of you eating your cookies and loving them. Thanking him for his special little treat for you.

And the next day when he runs into you on the way to your car and asks if you ate any more cookies, he’s super pleased when you tell him they’re all gone. Ate another before you went to bed. Got up in the middle of the night, tummy growling for another one. And then ate the last two for breakfast. He tells you he’ll get to work on your next batch and you giddily tell him you just can’t wait to try more of his yummy desserts. 

~masterlist~

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[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 6 - Footballers | ‘Act II’

word count - 9.4k

You stood side by side in Jude’s en suite, both of you brushing your teeth in comfortable silence. You caught each other’s reflection in the mirror, and with foam spilling from your mouth, you gave him a playful nudge. Jude raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended by your antics.

“So, are you going to wear my jersey to the match on Saturday?” He asked you once you’d both rinsed your mouths as he leaned against the counter.

“Hmm, no, don’t think I even own a Real Madrid jersey in general actually.” You paused, looking at him with a playful smirk. 

“Sorry? You what? You don’t own a Real Madrid jersey? You should be ashamed!”  His eyes widened dramatically, and he placed a hand over his heart like he was mortally wounded.

“I was thinking maybe I’ll get a Tchouameni one, you know.” You laughed, enjoying his theatrics and contributing your own.

“Aurelien? Are you serious?” Jude dropped his jaw in exaggerated disbelief. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you just tight enough to be a little ridiculous. “Nah, not having that! You have to wear mine. I want the most beautiful girl in the Bernabéu to be in my jersey.”

“Fine, I’ll wear yours,” you said, giving in to his adorable dramatics.You grinned, leaning up to kiss him softly.

“You can wear one, sure, but you’ll have to get it yourself.” Jude wasn’t done teasing. He stepped back, crossing his arms with a smirk. 

“Wait, what do you mean?” Your smile faltered slightly in confusion.

“I’m not just giving my jersey away to anyone, you know. If you want a Bellingham top you’ll have to go to the store and buy one like everyone else.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Baby…Really? You could probably get 500 jerseys if you wanted to.” You burst out laughing, knowing full well he could get you one in a heartbeat.

“Nah, can’t do it. Rules are rules. You’ve gotta earn it.”Jude kept up the act, shaking his head.

“Says who? You know what…Fine. I’ll go to the store and buy your jersey like a normal person.” You rolled your eyes and pulled him in for another kiss. Jude laughed, clearly enjoying how much you were playing along. 

“Good. And when you walk into the stadium, everyone’s gonna know who you’re there to support.” He kissed your forehead, smiling against your skin. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, loving the playful back-and-forth between you two. The day before the big game, you sat on the couch waiting for Jude to come home from training, a mischievous grin already forming on your face. When he walked in, still a bit sweaty and tired, he immediately caught on to your look.

“What’s that smile for?” he asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

“I’m going to the Real Madrid store on Gran Vía.” You shrugged, trying to keep the grin from growing too wide. 

“For what?” Jude chuckled, dropping his bag by the door.

“To get my jersey for the game tomorrow, of course,” you replied, standing up and giving him a playful look.

“You’re not serious. I told you, I’m not just giving one away to anyone.” Jude laughed again, thinking you were joking. 

“Exactly. My favorite player won’t give me one, so I guess I’ll have to go buy it myself.”  You rolled your eyes with a shrug still smiling.

“You’re actually going to the store?” Jude’s face softened with amusement, and he shook his head. 

“Yes! And you’re coming with me.” You poked him lightly in the chest.

“Come with you?” he repeated, laughing. “Do you want me to get mobbed? It’s impossible for me to walk around Gran Vía like a normal person. Let alone to a Real store.” His eyes widened, not sure if this was a bit or not.

“Then stay in the car. But I’m serious. If you want me in that jersey tomorrow, I need to go buy one.” You crossed your arms, still determined. 

“Fine, but I’m not stepping foot inside that store. I’ll stay in the car and watch you struggle without my help.” Jude shook his head with a smile, knowing he wasn’t going to win this.

“Deal. Let’s go.” You grinned. Before long, you both were driving down to the famous Gran Vía. Jude kept his word, staying in the car as the driver waited just outside the Real Madrid official merch store. You could feel his eyes on you as you got out and walked into the shop, a playful sense of excitement buzzing in the air. Inside, it was surreal seeing all the people browsing through jerseys and merchandise. None of them had any idea that Jude was sitting right outside in the car. You spotted his jersey on the racks and couldn’t help but laugh a little to yourself as you picked it up. You paid for the top, imagining what Jude would say about you having to actually buy it. The clerk handed you the bag, and you stepped back outside, heading toward the car with your little purchase in hand. Sliding into the car again, you flashed the bag at Jude with a grin. 

“Was a tough choice, you know” you said, teasing him.

“You really bought one, huh? I can't believe you.” He laughed, glancing at the bag. “There better a fucking number five on that jersey when you pull it out.” Jude gave you a serious face. 

“You insisted, and I’m a woman of my word.” You held up the jersey from the bag, waving it playfully. 

“Can’t wait to see you in it tomorrow.” Jude shook his head, a smirk on his face as he leaned over and kissed you.

“Can’t wait for you to see me out of it after.” You giggled nestling your body into his side as he draped his arm around you, pulling you into him tight with a kiss to your temple. 

Jude was sitting in his gaming chair the Sunday following the match you wore your newly purchased jersey to, headphones on, his eyes fixed on the screen as he played a game of fifa with his friends. Laughter and banter filled the room, though his focus was split between the game and glancing at you from time to time, peacefully tucked into his bed. The duvet clung loosely around your naked form, your bare back rising and falling with your soft breaths, completely unaware of the world around you. It wasn’t long before one of his friends on the other side of the screen noticed you in the background. 

“Oi, Jude! Who’s that in your bed, mate?” One of them teased, followed by a round of laughter. Jude rolled his eyes, trying to concentrate on the game.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, brushing off the comment, his tone playful yet slightly guarded. More teasing followed from his friends, who had no idea just how deeply Jude cared for you. They saw the bare back in the background and made all kinds of assumptions, jokes flying around as they continued to rib him about the mysterious woman in his bed. You stirred slightly, half-asleep, but heard enough to catch their words. It stung, just a little, how easily Jude brushed it off. You had always known how fiercely private he was, especially about your relationship, but hearing him dismiss the situation like that gave you a small pang of hurt. You stayed still, not wanting to interrupt or make it a thing, but the ache lingered in the back of your mind. After the game ended, Jude pulled off his headset with a sigh of relief, stretching in his chair before finally turning his full attention to you. He stood up and crossed the room, his soft steps barely making a sound as he approached the bed. You stirred in the luxurious bed, your naked body still entangled in the soft sheets, a stark contrast to the intense passion from the night before. As the morning light filtered through the elegant Spanish bedroom, you felt a pair of warm lips trailing kisses down your spine, making you shiver with anticipation. It's Jude, his breath hot on your skin, waking you up in the most delightful way.

“Hey, angel,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “You still sleeping?” He asked leaning down, he pressed a few gentle kisses along your shoulder, his hand trailing up your back, fingertips grazing your skin, sending shivers through your body despite the warmth of the duvet. You slowly opened your eyes, rolling over to face him, the faint memory of the teasing fading as his touch seemed to melt it away. He smiled down at you, his hand now caressing your cheek, fingers tangling gently in your hair. His presence was warm, comforting, and in that moment, any hurt you felt seemed so insignificant.

“Don’t worry about it,” you teased back, your voice groggy but playful as you tried to mimic his earlier words. There was no accusation, just a soft laugh and a small smile that told him you weren’t holding it against him.

“You heard that, huh?” Jude’s smile softened as he leaned down, kissing you tenderly, his lips lingering longer this time. 

“Mhhmm,” you hummed, but your fingers traced up his arm, pulling him closer. “It’s okay.” The way his hands moved over you now, how he held you like you were precious, dissolved any lingering doubt. His kisses, each one deeper than the last, spoke louder than any words, assuring you that what you had was real, far more than just a fleeting moment in the background of his life. His cold hands slid over your warm naked body. 

“You look so sexy in the morning.” He whispered, his voice deep and raspy from sleep. 

“You think?” You smiled with a stretch, your full breasts rising against the silk of the sheets, and turned your head to glance at him over your shoulder, a playful glint in your eyes.  He hummed and nodded. “Better than last night?” You asked. Jude chuckled, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Up for debate, it’s not a fair comparison. You’re not doing the same thing.” He mused with with a found memory of your antics last night in bed. 

“Would you like me to be doing the same thing or maybe something new?” You asked him feigning innocence. Feeling a little daring, you prop yourself up on your elbows, your naked body on full display, and lean forward to nibble on his ear. He groaned, his hands immediately reaching for your hips, pulling you closer. 

When you returned to New York once again, you missed Jude a lot. Being apart was harder than you thought. You just wanted to hear his voice again so you decided to call Jude, pacing in your apartment,  the city lights flickering through your window.  You two had spoken a lot the second you were apart but it was just strange not being together anymore. With a longing sigh, you pick up your phone, unable to resist the urge to hear his voice. Your heart racing as the phone rang questioning if this was a good decision or not, but when he finally picked up, the tension melted away instantly. You immediately jumped back into your bed, comforted not only by your plush surroundings but now by him. 

"Hey Angel," his voice came through, soft but tinged with that familiar warmth. It was amazing how just hearing him could make everything feel lighter, like the weight of the day disappearing, the weight of your distance. Your fingers trailed idly across your silk sheets as you listened to Jude’s voice come through your phone.  Your body ached for his touch, his scent, the feel of his strong arms around you. Jude's voice resonated through the phone, instantly making your heart flutter. His warm greeting sent a shiver down your spine, you could almost feel his breath on your neck, even though he was thousands of miles away.

"Hi," you purred, the sound of his voice already soothing the ache that's been gnawing at you since you left Madrid. There was a beat of silence where neither of you spoke, but it's not awkward. It's the kind of quiet where you were both trying to figure out what to say without really saying how much you miss each other. It was obvious and while you had decided you would ‘date.’ there really was no clarity of what that meant. Dating means different things to different people. Dating could be exclusive and in a relationship or it could very well mean you’re just going on literally dates to sus things out and that’s it. The ambiguity was stressful but wither way you just wanted to hear him.  You leaned back against the pillows, your voice dripping with desire

"You okay?" Jude asked, his voice gentle, like he was testing the waters.

"I'm okay... just, you know, it's different without you." You tried to keep it light, but the words hung heavy in the air. He didn’t respond right away, you could hear him exhale, the sound of his breath stirring something inside you.

"Yeah... I know what you mean. It's weird, not having you here." There was that vulnerability again, the one that neither of you wanted to fully admit. It made your chest tighten, this unspoken longing that'd been growing between you, but the distance felt like it was pulling you closer in a strange way. You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it, and there's a soft laugh on the other end. You could imagine him running his hand over his hair, leaning back, trying to stay casual.

"Miss me?" you teased, your voice dropping just a little, testing the waters just the same. There was a pause, just long enough to make you think he might brush it off.

"Of course I do," Jude said, and there was something in the way he said it, like he's letting down his guard for a moment. It sent a shiver down your spine. "But I figured you might be too busy being my New York girl again." He cooed. 

"Not too busy for you," you replied, your voice softer now, more intimate. You shifted on the bed, pulling your knees up to your chest, imagining what it would be like if he were here with you. You can hear the change in his tone when he speaks again, a little deeper, a little more playful. 

"Yeah? What are you doing right now?" Jude asks. As you listened to his words, your fingers unconsciously started to trace the outline of your tits through the thin fabric of your silk nightgown like he had some mind control over you. You imagined Jude's hands replacing yours, his rough palms cupping your boobs, thumbs grazing your sensitive nipples.

"Thinking about you," you admitted, feeling your pulse quicken. It was a simple confession, but it changed everything. You heard him chuckle, a low, sexy sound that sends a flush through your body.

"I wish I was there with you right now," Jude murmured, his voice thick with longing. "I miss you, being close to you." He mused. Your heart skipped a beat at the honesty in his words. 

“What would you do if you were here?" You asked him, borderlining on a moan. You missed being with Jude, just in and around him, but you also really missed being in bed with Jude.  

"I'd... l'd probably start by kissing you," he sais, his voice rougher now, the playful edge slipping away, replaced by something more serious. "I'd pull you close, feel you against me." You swallowed hard, the image of him right there, touching you, flashing vividly in your mind.

"Just kissing?" you teased, trying to keep the mood light, but you can feel the heat building between you, even through the phone. He laughed softly, but there's a hunger behind it.

"Oh, l'd do a lot more than just kiss you, you know that angel.” Jude cooed. Your breath hitched at his words, the familiar warmth spreading through you, you bit your lip, trying to steady yourself. 

"Tell me," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath and Jude didn't hesitate.

"I'd run my hands down your body, press you into that mattress. You know, like I used to, when you were here with me. couldn't keep my hands off you in my bed." The vividness of his words makes you shift in your sheets, your body reacting to the mental image he's painting.

"And then?" You asked him breathily. 

"I'd take my time with you," he continued, his voice deeper now, sending a delicious shiver through you. "I'd touch you everywhere, make sure you remember exactly how good it feels when I'm the one doing it." You let out a soft moan, unable to stop yourself. 

"Jude, this is unfair." you whined, feeling the heat between your thighs.

"I think you like it," he said, his voice thick with desire now. "And I know you miss it." Your heart races as you close your eyes, lost in his words, in the sound of his voice, and the feeling of being with him, even though he's miles away.

"Baby..." you start, but your voice trails off, caught in the haze of lust and longing. You want him, more than you've ever wanted anyone, and it's almost unbearable being apart. 

"What are you wearing, YN?" Jude's voice is low and seductive, his tone making your cheeks flush. "I want to picture you while I stroke my cock, thinking of you." A naughty smile curves your lips as you sit up, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I'm wearing that sheer babydoll you love, the one that shows off my tits. Remember how you couldn't keep your hands off me the last time I wore it?" You smiled. You were in a Carine Gilson silk babydoll slip dress. Honestly you had put it on tonight with the intention of sending him a photo of it so it was only fair you told him.

"Fuck…yeah angel, I remember," he growled, his voice thick with desire. You had brought it with you on your last trip to Madrid. I recent purchase that clearly was serving its purpose. "I can see it now. Your perfect tits straining against the fabric, your hard nipples begging for my mouth." Your fingers moved to the hem of the nightgown, slowly lifting it up, baring your soft skin to the cool air.

 "I'm touching myself right now, Jude," you confessed, your voice breathless. "Imagining it's your hands on me." You whined a little really missing his massive hands compared to your more delicate ones. 

"Oh, fuck, baby," Jude moaned, his words speeding up as his imagination takes over. "Show me. Slide your hand down, touch your pussy for me. I want to hear how wet you are for me." He commanded you and you obeyed him immediately, you slid your hand beneath the fabric, your fingers finding the damp heat between your thighs. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you begin to stroke your swollen clit, already sensitive from thinking about Jude.

"That's it, angel," he encouraged you, his voice hoarse. "Rub your pussy. Imagine my fingers joining yours, filling you up. I want to make you cum tonight like I always do.” You closed your eyes, picturing Jude's strong fingers mimicking your movements, his touch sending electric shocks through your body. Your fingers delved deeper, circling your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure that you knew drove you wild. "Yeah, just like that," Jude whispered, his voice a raspy contrast to your soft moans. "You're so fucking hot when you touch yourself. I wish I could taste you, lick you." He groaned wishing that the three thousand mile distance could evaporate. Your breathing quickened as your fingers worked feverishly, your body responding to Jude's words and the memories of his skilled mouth. 

"I’m so close," you pant, your voice hoarse with need. "I want to cum for you, Jude. Tell me what to do." You whined. 

"Fuck, yeah, cum f’me. Be a good girl and cum f’me," he urged, his voice intense. "Slide a finger inside, feel how tight you are. Imagine my cock thrusting into you, pounding that sweet pussy." You did as he said, slipping a finger inside your slick folds, groaning at the fullness. Your finger curled, searching for that sweet spot, and you add another, attempting to mimick the feel of Jude's thick cock that you could never replicate. "That's it, take it all," Jude growled, his voice a dominant command. "Fuck yourself on your fingers, Y/N. Let me hear you cum." He told you and your heart faltered. Your free hand reached up to pinch your nipple, tugging gently, just the way Jude does when he wants to drive you over the edge. The combination of sensations pushes you closer to the brink.

"Oh my god, fuck." you cried out, your body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your fingers moving in rhythm with your orgasm, prolonging the exquisite release.

"That's my girl. I love making you cum, even when I'm not there. Now, I want you to keep touching yourself, baby. I'm gonna cum for you too." Jude's voice is a soft, satisfied purr in your ear.  Your fingers, still wet from your orgasm, resume their dance, stroking your sensitive flesh as you listen to Jude's dirty talk. You hear the sound of his hand on his cock, the wet, slick sounds filling your ears. "Fuck, Y/N, I'm so hard for you," he grunted, his breath coming in short gasps. "I'm gonna cum thinking of my fingers playing with your clit, your tight pussy milking my cock." Your body responded to his words, a second orgasm building swiftly. You pinched your nipple harder, imagining Jude's mouth sucking you, his teeth gently scraping your sensitive peak. "Cum with me, baby," Jude pleaded, his voice strained. "I want to hear you scream my name as I fill your pussy with my hot cum." Jude shut his eyes relishing in the images of what it was like for you to be back in his bed. His filthy words pushed you over the edge, and you cry out his name as your body convulses in pleasure. Your fingers move frantically, matching the rhythm of your heart as you climax together, connected by desire across the miles. As your breathing slowed, Jude's voice is a soothing balm. "That was incredible, baby.  So good f’me. I love making you cum, even when we're apart. I can't wait to feel your pussy around my cock again soon. Need you back with me, hmm?" He cooed.

"I can't wait. I really can’t.” You smiled, sated and content, already looking forward to returning to Madrid.

"Get a good sleep f’me and dream of me filling every inch of that gorgeous body of yours." He replied, his voice filled with adoration. You hung up the phone, a satisfied smile on your face, knowing that the next time you'd be in Jude's arms, you’d make up for lost time in the most delicious ways. Although as you laid in bed about to go to sleep that night a feeling of worry loomed over you. Was this strictly physical? You just got off to each other but said nothing about even a tentative return. What if you quite literally never saw him again.  Your stomach dropped a little trying to recall things Jude had said in the past. What were you to him. Jude sighed when you hung up. His morning was a bit brighter now considering your phone call but still he felt a bit of unease as well. He was kicking himself wondering if you were just calling him to cum. You didn’t say ‘hey Jude, I’m free next month, can I come visit?’ And Jude took that as disinterest. He got scared to ask you to actually fly over now. It felt too intense . It felt like the second you returned things would be more serious than ever. Was he ready for that? He grappled with his feelings and just settled for orgasmic calls.

When you had left Madrid things were good. Jude had always known your time together would be fleeting, but that didn’t make it any easier when your departure for New York finally came. Your days in Spain had been a dream—a blur of laughter, late-night conversations, and a closeness that seemed to grow with every passing moment. You had slipped into a rhythm so natural, so perfect, that Jude had almost convinced himself it would last forever. But reality had a way of creeping back in, and despite what Toby thought about your work, your job back in New York couldn’t wait forever. You spent your last night together curled up in his bed, the weight of the impending separation hanging over you like a storm cloud. There was no dramatic goodbye, just a lingering kiss at the airport and a promise to text when you land, though both of you knew that after that text you weren’t sure what to do next. When you left Madrid things had all been so good until they weren't.

Jude tried to distract himself after you left, throwing himself into training and matches, but the empty space you left behind felt like a constant ache. He missed you—missed the way you’d roll your eyes at his jokes, missed the sound of your laugh, missed waking up to you beside him. It was the kind of longing that settled deep in his bones, refusing to let go. You texted and called almost every day using phone sex and nudes to convey how much you missed each other. Two weeks or so after you left you both were painfully aware that the conversations were starting to be more infrequent. You both were busy but because of the infrequency it felt more pressure packed for someone to communicate how much you missed the other. No one had really had the balls to say all that you were feeling.

As you entered the third week Jude was scrolling through his phone when a notification popped up—an Instagram story from Whitney’s sister, Winnie. He tapped it open, eager for any glimpse of you, and there you were, in a dimly lit bar in New York. The sight of you smiling, your hair falling in loose waves around your shoulders, hit him like a punch to the gut. But his smile faded when he noticed the guy standing next to you, leaning in too close, his face inches from yours as you spoke. This night was no different then every night out you’d had since you met Jude. It was spent wishing Jude’s hands were on your waist. Coincidentally after being with Jude you’d find yourself with platonic groups of men. This was information unknown to Jude though. Neither of you properly able to find the time nor the courage to admit just how much you longed to be back together, how much you still felt for the other. Jude’s chest tightened, a flare of jealousy surging through him. He knew it wasn’t fair—you had every right to live your life, to talk to whoever you wanted—but the image of you with another guy, even if it was just a casual conversation, twisted something ugly inside him. He tried to shake it off, telling himself he was overreacting, that there had to be a reasonable explanation. But the jealousy festered, gnawing at him, especially as his own insecurities bubbled to the surface. The next day, everything seemed to go wrong. He had a game, and from the first whistle, it was clear he wasn’t on his A-game. His mind was somewhere else, distracted by thoughts of you and the guy in the Instagram story. Mistakes piled up, and by the end of the match, they’d lost. He never lost. He hated losing in fact. The only time Jude ever even accepted a loss was to you, hell, he even enjoyed losing to you, which was confusing enough. He could feel the weight of the loss bearing down on him, the frustration mixing with the unresolved feelings about you until he could barely think straight.

After the game, Jude headed to a club with some teammates, hoping to drown out the noise in his head. The drinks flowed freely, and he found himself slipping into a haze of alcohol and anger, the jealousy from the night before still burning under his skin. He barely noticed the girl who slid up beside him, her hair and frame reminding him of you in some hazy, distorted way. Maybe that was why he didn’t push her away when she started flirting, didn’t stop her when she whispered in his ear, her hand resting on his arm. He knew it was wrong. Somewhere deep down, past the fog of alcohol and jealousy, he knew he was making a mistake. But he was too far gone, too caught up in his own bitterness and hurt. And so, when she leaned in for a kiss, he let her. When she suggested they leave together, he agreed. The night was a blur of bad decisions, and he stumbled back to his house with her, pretending she was someone else, pretending she was you. It was effort to not only get back at you for being with another guy but to forget you. To prove to himself he just wasn’t that into you but it did neither of the two. Jude woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and a sick feeling in his stomach. The girl was gone, her absence barely registering as he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the events of the previous night crashing down on him like a tidal wave of regret. His mind raced, replaying every moment, every bad choice. The reality of what he’d done hit him hard, and he felt a deep, gnawing guilt twist in his gut. What had he been thinking? How could he have let things get so out of hand? He wasn’t the type to act out like this, to hurt someone just because he was hurting. But now, here he was, with nothing but regret to show for it. Jude groaned, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to piece together what to do next. He knew he’d messed up, and the thought of telling you made his chest tighten with dread. What could he even say? That he’d been jealous, drunk, and stupid? That he’d hurt you in the worst way because he was too wrapped up in his own insecurities? The shame was overwhelming, and for the first time in a long time, Jude didn’t know how to fix things. He didn’t know if he could. But one thing was clear—he couldn’t keep it from you. You deserved to know the truth, even if it meant losing you. He just had to figure out how to say the words, and more importantly, how to face the consequences of his actions.

"So, we’re in Spain, right? And I end up hooking up with this guy whose super famous there, I guess a soccer player and he’s hot but it’s totally out of the blue. Everything's going great, like incredible night but then the morning after, I look over, and his phone lights up. And when I tell you my jaw dropped. He has a whole girl as his phone background.  I’m just sitting there like, did I really just hook up with a guy who's clearly seeing someone else? I mean, who does that? The background is like full-on couple vibes, and then I see his last text was to this girl! It literally said, 'Thinking of you xx.' I was like, wow, okay, guess I’m just the side dish in this situation. But seriously, who keeps their main girl as their phone background while hooking up with someone else? Wild, right?" The women’s voice continued her story with a mix of disbelief and amusement. Whitney's heart sank as she paused a podcast episode of two girls from California who had just been to Madrid for a brand trip, her suspicion growing with every word. 

"I swear on my life I think… I think this girl is talking about Jude on this podcast " She turned to Trent, her voice shaky. The influencer’s laugh haunting her. 

"What? Nah. You really think so?"  Trent frowns, trying to process the information. Whitney nodded, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach

"I just have this gut feeling. And if it is… Y/N needs to know." Whitney sat in silence for a moment, the words from the podcast echoing in her mind. She could feel the weight of what she’d just heard settling heavily on her chest. Her thoughts raced as she tried to piece it all together—the timeline, the details, the way Jude had been acting lately. “Trent,” she finally said, her voice trembling slightly. “This doesn’t feel right. I mean, has Jued mentioned anything? Last I heard things were like really good between them. I honestly thought they would end up being official in some capacity. That influencer could easily be talking about him. Who else would it be?” She cooed. The girls in the podcast had explained it was a young footballer at the pinnacle of the sport and that city, discussing at length how hot he was. His name was never mentioned but their description was down to the T.

“Nah, didn’t say anything to me but Y/N’s back in New York, no? Maybe they had an agreement. I can’t see him doing that on purpose but I don’t want to jump to conclusions, Whit. This could be about anyone.” Trent sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he processed what Whitney was saying.

“I know. I know.” Whitney hummed. “Jude’s always had a bit of a wild side, but he’s never been careless. He wouldn’t have his phone background as Y/N if he was seriously hooking up with someone else—unless…he was trying to prove something. I’m a little shocked she would be his background to begin with. Maybe he thought Y/N was with someone else and acted out?” She hesitantly said it as if Trent's suggestion of you and Jude agreeing to see other people when apart wasn’t even a possibility. 

“If that’s the case, it’s pretty messed up. Y/N doesn’t deserve that, and Jude’s just making things worse for himself. But we don’t know for sure.” Trent’s face darkened at the thought. 

“We need to tell her, Trent. She really fucking likes him. She deserves to know what’s going on. If it’s true…she’ll be devastated. She’ll say she’s not but she will be. This will send her. She genuinely started to like him, to trust him. Fuck…” Whitney bit her lip, her mind swirling with concern for you. 

“Yeah, we should tell her, but carefully. We don’t want to hurt her if we’re wrong or shake the relationship.” Trent hesitated, knowing how much you meant to Whitney—and to him. Whitney nodded, her resolve strengthening. 

“I’ll call her later. I just…I hate this. I hate that Jude would do something like this. It’s so unlike him, but at the same time, I can see how he’d jump to the wrong conclusion if Y/N wasn’t communicating and go and mess everything up. He really cares about Y/N, I know he does and she does too, even if they’re too scared to admit it.” Trent pulled Whtitney into his comforting embrace kissing her temple.  Whitney leaned into Trent’s touch, feeling the weight of the situation settle over them both. She knew this conversation could shatter everything you believed about your relationship with Jude, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread building in her stomach. Whitney needed a minute to think of how she was meant to tell you about her hunch or to even inquire about your relationship but she knew it was a fine and very blurry line. Whitney was terrified this would upset you and build the walls Jude had just so carefully dismantled right back up and reinforce them to the tenfold. That evening Whitney coyly snuck onto an unrelated FaceTime Trent was having with Jude. Cheekily Whitney asked how you were feigning innocence believing everything had been good between you and Jude. Jude winced telling her something along the lines of ‘fuck that.’ She had asked about you with the intention of keeping things light, but Jude’s sharp reaction caught her off guard. The way he dismissed the situation with such frustration made her heart sink. She could see Trent’s confusion mirrored in her own expression as they both tried to make sense of Jude's outburst.

"If she’s gonna fuck about in New York, then I’m not putting up with that." Jude quipped, leaving out how much your presumed actions hurt him. Whitney couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of dread, realizing there was much more to the story than she knew. As Jude continued to ramble, his words laced with anger and hurt, Trent sighed heavily, cutting him off. 

“Mate, I think you’ve got this all wrong,” Trent said, his tone a mixture of exasperation and concern. But Jude wasn’t having any of it. He seemed determined to stay in his narrative, his mind made up. Whitney’s mind raced, connecting the dots to what she’d heard on that podcast earlier. It had to be Jude. There was no other explanation for the influencer's story aligning so perfectly with Jude’s current mood. But if Jude had hooked up with someone else because he thought you were seeing another man, what would that mean for you when you found out? Whitney’s worry for you deepened, and she knew she needed to talk to Trent more privately. There was no way they could let this spiral out of control without getting to the bottom of it. Whitney finally mustered up the courage to text you asking if she could call you.  You thought it was Whitney maybe filling you in on some gossip, unfortunately it was gossip about you. You told her you’d call her in a little because in fact… you were at the airport boarding a plane. You were about to board a 6:15 pm flight from JFK to Barajas.  

“Hi baby!” You beamed anticipating to receive the same enthusiasm in return. When you arrived unannounced at Jude’s house in Madrid, the surprise on his face was mixed with something else—guilt. He hadn’t expected you, hadn’t prepared for the flood of emotions that came rushing back the moment he saw you standing there in the doorway, looking radiant and happy to see him. For a brief second, he thought maybe he could push down the truth, bury it deep and pretend everything was fine. But the guilt gnawed at him, and he knew he couldn’t. He led you inside, his heart heavy with the weight of what he had to confess. You sat on the couch, the atmosphere between you tinged with an unease that hadn’t been there before. You noticed it immediately, your intuition kicking in as you studied Jude’s expression. There was a nervousness in his eyes, a reluctance in the way he held your hand.

“Jude, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice soft but firm, not wanting to jump to conclusions but needing to know why he was acting so distant. He hesitated, his mind racing as he tried to find the right words. How could he tell you that he’d done exactly what he feared most—betrayed you, let his insecurities get the best of him, and hurt you in the process?

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you,” he began, his voice low and strained. “After you left… I made a mistake. A big one.” He almost mumbled. You remained silent, your heart starting to pound as you braced yourself for whatever was coming. Jude ran a hand over his hair, unable to meet your eyes. “I was angry and jealous… I saw that Instagram story of you with that guy at the bar, and I just lost it. I didn’t handle it well, and I ended up getting drunk and… I slept with someone. Someone who… well, she looked a bit like you.” The room went still, the air between you thick with tension. As Jude admitted it he was heartbroken but also embarrassed that this wasn’t the first time he’d been rash after seeing you for afar. He hated himself for not only hurting you but letting himself get so invested in someone else. You felt the words hit you like a punch to the gut, no, a knife to the heart, a wave of hurt crashing over you. But you didn’t let it show. You had always been good at that—at hiding your feelings, at keeping your emotions in check when you needed to. This was exactly what you had feared when you started falling for Jude, the reason you had been so hesitant to let yourself get close. You had known, deep down, that this kind of heartbreak was a possibility. And now, here it was, staring you in the face.

“Erm… Okay,” you said, your voice calm and even, though it took every ounce of your strength to keep it that way. “Thanks for telling me.” You drew in a slow breath, forcing yourself to stay composed. Jude looked at you, searching your face for any sign of what you were feeling, but you gave him nothing. You kept your expression neutral, refusing to let him see just how much he had hurt you. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply this cut, weren’t going to let him see the tears that threatened to spill over. You had trusted him, allowed yourself to be vulnerable, you took down the fucking glass, you leant him the fucking bag and this was how he had repaid you. But you wouldn’t break—not in front of him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Jude said, his voice breaking slightly as he reached out to touch your hand, but you pulled away, standing up from the couch.

“I need to go back to New York,” you said, your tone clipped and distant. “I have work to do.” You snipped. Jude’s heart sank as he watched you retreat into yourself, the warmth and closeness that had been there between you replaced by a cold detachment. He wanted to reach out, to pull you back, to somehow make you understand how much he regretted what he’d done. But he could see the wall you were putting back up, the way you were shutting down, and he didn’t know how to break through it.

“Y/N, please… I didn’t mean—” he started, but you cut him off.

“Don’t,” you yelled sharply, your eyes finally meeting his. “You don’t get to say anything else right now. I need to go. I’m getting an uber because you can’t even fucking drive.” And with that, you turned and walked out of the house, leaving Jude alone with his guilt and regret and an additional dig about not having a license that made this sting all the more. .

The flight back to New York was a blur for you. You kept yourself composed, your expression carefully blank, but inside, you were a storm of emotions. Anger, hurt, betrayal—it all swirled together, fueling a fire that had been smoldering beneath the surface for too long. You had let yourself fall for Jude, let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different. But it wasn’t. He had let you down, just like everyone else before him. When you landed in New York, you knew you needed a distraction, something to numb the pain that was threatening to consume you. You went out that night, dressed to kill, your makeup flawless, your hair cascading in perfect waves. You were in a dress that some would argue even a dress at all. It was a Retrofete completely sheer glittery maxi dress.  You looked better than ever, and you knew it. If Jude was going to betray you like that, then you weren’t going to sit around and wallow in your pain. You were going to take back control, even if it meant doing something reckless.

At the club, you spotted him almost immediately—an NFL player you had met once before, a professional football player, American football, who was charming enough, handsome enough, but ultimately forgettable. You couldn’t even remember his name, maybe it was John or maybe James. He was exactly what you needed tonight: someone who could give you a temporary escape, someone who wasn’t Jude. You didn’t care that he wasn’t the one you wanted; all that mattered was that he was there, and he was willing and he wouldn’t ask. You were no longer the version of yourself who had spent nights wrapped up in Jude’s arms, feeling safe, cherished, and adored. You were on autopilot, your heart numb, yet furious, aching in a way that couldn’t be softened. Jude had taken that from you—turned every kiss, every laugh, every whispered promise into something false. Whitney’s sister Winnie was more than willing to help you forget although she just assumed it was a bad work day not the crumbling of a relationship. She was never one to turn a night out down. The club was packed, bodies pressed together in a blur of movement and flashing lights. You threw back a tequila shot as soon as you walked in, the alcohol buzzing through your veins, giving you the illusion of control. But every sip, every beat of the music, felt hollow, drowned out by the thundering hurt inside you. As you danced, with the intention of fucking John or maybe James you let the night blur as then storm inside continued to brew. In an instant your facade was shattered though. That’s when you saw it. A guy in the crowd, laughing, chatting with his friends, wearing a Bellingham jersey. Your stomach twisted violently, and you pushed past the people surrounding you, barely making it to the bathroom before you retched. 

“Breathe, please,” Winnie said, her voice gentle but panicked. She was by your side in an instant, her hand on your back, trying to soothe you as you knelt over the toilet. But you couldn’t stop. The tears started then—hot, angry tears spilling down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat from the dance floor and the bitterness rising in your throat. “Y/N please. I don’t know what happened but this isn’t right please.” Winnie’s eyes had gone wide. You slumped against the bathroom stall, trying to hold yourself together, but everything was falling apart.

“I loved him! I loved him. I loved him and he just had to fuck some plastic version of me. I work for this Win. I fucking work for this!” You sobbed gesturing to your incredibly toned physique. “I loved him,” you sobbed, your voice broken, raw. “I fucking loved him.” You yelled through tears. Winnie was in utter shock hearing you say that. 

“Y/N I know. Fuck.” Winnie ran her hands over her face a little overwhelmed. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know about that. I didn’t know you even said I love yous.” In all the years she knew you she wasn’t sure she ever heard you say you loved a boy.

“We didn’t! And I’m fucking glad I didn’t!” you gasped between sobs, feeling the weight of that truth crush you. “Fuck him!  I can fuck someone too. I’m glad, Winnie, because he doesn’t deserve to know I loved him.” You cried uncontrollably. “I’m gonna go fuck James.”

“I think it’s John.” Winnie smiled. She crouched down beside you, her face full of concern.  “But that’s not right Y/N.” You shot her a vicious glare. “Okay, sorry. Pop off queen.” Winnie quipped with sarcasm and disapproval. 

“He went and slept with someone else,” you choked out, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “Some fake, plastic version of me, and it was all a joke to him. I looked her up and now... now I’m going to sleep with someone too.” You wiped your face with the back of your hand, tears still streaming uncontrollably. You’d never been the type of girl to compare yourself to anyone else. You were confident. You felt invincible until you met Jude. You told him he made you weak and you loathed him for it and he had seemed to relish in that power. You felt he took advantage of you letting him in.

“You don’t want to do that. You’re hurt, and this is just going to make it worse. You love him Y/N you don't care about John or James or whatever.” Winnie sat back, clearly at a loss for words. You laughed bitterly, feeling the hysteria bubbling up in your chest. 

“I don’t care!” you shouted, your voice breaking. “I have to. I can’t just sit here and let him be the only one who... who—” You couldn’t even finish the sentence. Your chest heaved with sobs, and you slumped further against the stall wall. Winnie grabbed your shoulders, trying to bring you back to reality. Winnie whimpered out a measly broken ‘please.’  But you shook your head stubbornly. “I can’t be the only one hurting. I need to hurt him back. I need him to feel what I’m feeling. He had to know I loved him. I gave him my fucking dad’s bag, my fucking bag, and the glass and then…” You felt like you couldn't breathe sputtering words. What had Jude done to you? Winnie couldn't follow your thoughts; your dad? A bag? The glass? But Winnie’s face softened anyway, her expression pained. You think she said something but you couldn’t hear her over your thoughts. The betrayal, the anger, the heartbreak—it was all too much, and right now, the only thing you could think about was finding a way to take the power back, to make Jude feel the same gut-wrenching pain he had inflicted on you. It terrified you that there was a possibility though that it wouldn’t hurt him. It wouldn’t hurt the way it hurt you because maybe he didn’t love you the way you loved him and that made you feel broken in a way you didn’t know you could. You pushed yourself up, wobbling slightly from the alcohol and exhaustion. Winnie stood, still pleading with you. But regret was the last thing on your mind. All you could think about was revenge, and no matter what Winnie said, you were determined to make Jude feel just what you felt. You knew exactly what you were doing when you posted the first picture on Instagram—a shot of you laughing with Winnie at a rooftop bar, the New York skyline glittering in the background. It was perfect, the kind of image that would make anyone believe you were having the time of your life. And that was exactly what you wanted Jude to see. If Jude thought your innocent stories that caused his jealousy earlier bothered him he was in fro a rude awakening. As the night went on, the posts kept coming. A boomerang of you clinking shot glasses with Winnie and people Jude had never seen before, a sultry shot of you leaning over the bar with a coy smile, and then the kicker—a video of you dancing with the NFL player unfortunately Jude recognized, his hands resting a little too comfortably on your hips, his lips on your neck. The comments from people surrounding you egged you on, hyping up your carefree night, while you plastered on your most convincing smile. You knew Jude would see it. You knew he wouldn’t be able to resist watching, just like you couldn’t resist the pull to post it all. It was petty, maybe even cruel, but after what he had done, you couldn’t help yourself. If he thought he could hurt you and get away with it, he was dead wrong. You wanted him to feel the same way you had felt—angry, jealous, and helpless. In Madrid, Jude couldn’t tear his eyes away from his phone. Each new post from you was like a punch to the gut, the images and videos sending his mind into overdrive.

You were out, looking stunning, clearly enjoying yourself with some guy who seemed all too comfortable in your space. The pit in his stomach grew with every swipe, a sickening combination of jealousy and fear settling deep in his chest. You weren’t officially together, hadn’t defined whatever it was between you, but that didn’t change how he felt. You were meant to be his. He had messed up, he knew that, but the thought of you moving on—of you being with someone else—was unbearable. Watching your night unfold from miles away, he felt trapped, powerless to do anything but scroll through the evidence of you moving on without him. He wanted to reach out, to call you, to ask you to come back, but he knew he had no right. He had told himself he was giving you space, that it was the right thing to do, but now, that space felt like a chasm between you, one he didn’t know how to bridge. Every time his phone buzzed with a new notification, his heart sank a little more, until he felt like he couldn’t take it anymore. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Meanwhile, you were barely holding it together. You had spent the night throwing yourself into the role you had created—fun, carefree, unbothered by anything that had happened. But as the evening wore on, the weight of it all started to press down on you. The act was exhausting, and no matter how much you tried to distract yourself, your thoughts kept circling back to Jude. By the time you got home the next morning the facade had cracked, and you felt emptier than ever. The night was a haze of alcohol and dancing, of flirtatious smiles and whispered nothings. You let yourself get lost in it, in the adrenaline and the thrill of doing something you knew was wrong. When you ended up back at John or James's place, you didn’t think twice about it. You let him undress you, let him kiss you, but your mind was somewhere else the entire time. The American footballer was a poor substitute for the other footballer you really wanted, the man who had broken your heart, but in that moment, you didn’t care. You needed to feel something, anything, that wasn’t the pain of Jude’s betrayal. When it was over, orgasmless, you laid in the dark beside him, staring up at the ceiling, feeling emptier than before. It hadn’t worked, not the way you had hoped. John or James was nothing compared to Jude—he didn’t make your heart race, didn’t make you feel alive the way Jude did, certainly didn’t make you cum the way Jude could. And now, instead of feeling empowered or in control, you felt hollow, like you had betrayed yourself as much as Jude had betrayed you. You knew you had done it out of spite, out of anger and hurt, but it hadn’t brought you the satisfaction you had expected. Instead, it only deepened the void inside you, the realization that no matter what you did, you couldn’t escape the way you felt about Jude. He had gotten under your skin in a way you hadn’t anticipated, and now, you were left to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart. You laid in his stupid navy sheets in a poorly decorated apartment. Yes, you were spoiled. You realize how this sounded but you missed Jude's white high thread count bedding and sunny floor to ceiling windows in Madrid

•

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 7 - Madrid or Manhattan xx

[wayfayrr]

Self-conscious captain

the next self aware link and this time it's the captain my favourite boy, warriors!

[masterlist]

“Hey [Name], I’ve been going through some of my old games to clear things out. I found my copy of Hyrule Warriors and wanted to know if you’d like it?”

“I thought that was one of your favourites though, what’s come into you to give it away like this? Do you want anything for it, I’d feel bad simply taking from you.”

“Nah I got it as a gift anyway, I beat the game and did everything there is to do. Plus I know you’ve been wanting to play it anyway, so please have it.”

There’s something off about this, between how skitterish they’re acting and the fact they’re so willing - that they’re so desperate for me to take their favourite game from them? I’ve got nothing else to go off of though, and they are right I have been planning to buy it. They wouldn’t be offering if they didn’t want me to have it so what is there to lose?

“If you’re sure then. I can’t wait to play through it myself rather than watching you.”

Is there such a thing as too much relief? Because if there is then that was definitely it, with how their shoulders relaxed; all the tension left their body as they handed me the game. Why does this feel like the start of a creepypasta, am I simply gonna go home then suddenly there’s some new version of Ben drowned for me to deal with? I won’t know until I play I guess, but it might be fun. 

There’s no better time than now to learn though, I’ve got the whole afternoon to myself anyway so why not? Putting the game into my switch; booting it all up it seems fine, so there’s nothing there that should have messed with them. It’s up until the first cutscene for anything to even show up that could be wrong. Link’s eyes seem to be focusing on me far more than they should during it, more than what should be possible, with more of a smile than he usually does during this too. Then I finally get to the level.

I can’t control Link, the game seems to be frozen, not a single bokoblin moving, Link is still moving, the camera isn’t even focused on him now and he’s moving closer to the screen. 

“Honeybee? You’re here! I knew your friend would cave pretty face when I pressed them. It’s so nice to have you here alone with me!”

“...What.”

“Oh it’s all alright dear, I did think you’d be a little shocked at first because, well I mean I know this isn’t something that happens very often. Would you be against getting to know me better though?”

What. The. Hell. No wonder they were so eager to pawn the game off to me, a living character that seems to be obsessed with me? If the roles were switched then I’d be throwing it at them as quickly as I could, I’m amazed they could even keep calm for long enough to hand it to me without seeming any more suspicious than they did, he threatened them he’s already admitted that stop lying to yourself [name]. Why does he even want me over the person who actually played as him? None of this makes any sense. 

“I - No I wouldn’t, actually could I ask you some questions too? Just y’know, try to get my head around all of this.”

“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t ask me any, I mean right now? You’re treating me more like an actual person than anyone else ever has.” 

“...”

“Where would you like to start then honeybee? We can take this at your pace, you’re in full control here.”

Where should I start? There are so many different things I want answers to, I could stay here for hours just talking to him to find out everything; now that I think on that, it’s not like I have anything else planned today. I could simply just stay here for a bit and talk, it’s probably the safer option too. If I don’t, do I really want to test the sanity of a sentient game character, no. 

“Um, if it’s all up to me then. Can I ask when you first became aware? Of the fact that you’re you know, a character in a game.”

“Oh, that? Well, it was about three months ago now, two or so weeks before you played with them. They really just saw me as a toy, not caring if I got hurt or anything, which is fair they never knew I was anything more than that; but you didn’t know either and you treated me like a person. You always apologised whenever I took any damage, never tried to get me hurt for your own pleasure or replace me as soon as you could. It was only a matter of time until I started to want you, then it was fairly easy to get eyes in your phone.”

“You've got ‘eyes in my phone?’ what do you mean by that.”

He looks so pleased right now like he wanted me to ask that exact question, it’s such a smug look on his face too. There’s something else to it as well, I can’t pinpoint what but there is certainly another look on his face. With how emotive he is it really doesn’t feel like this is some kind of sick joke, he’s too alive.

“That’s one of the things I’m most proud of!! It was pretty easy when you linked your phone to their switch to download a photo, I just made part of that connection a bit more personal and permanent. I promise I didn’t listen in on anything too private, I swear on Nintendo that I’m not like Cia. I promise.”

“Moving on from… that then. Why’s the real reason you wanted to be with me like this, I mean I get the feeling there’s more to it than you’re letting on.”

“You caught me I actually wa-”

The scowl that crossed his face when he was interrupted by the doorbell was unlike the cheery demeanour he’s been using, it’s almost like he’s angry or jealous of me having my attention split from him; it barely lasts a second though. Before his face swaps to one of remorse possibly because he got so irritated over something so trivial, that needs my focus more than he does right now. 

“I think you already know, but I should go check that. I’ll only be a couple of minutes, it’s probably nothing after all.”

Not even a word, just a nod and a look of rejection as if he was a cat I’d had to move off of me when I turned to go and answer the door. True to my word it wasn’t something that going to take long, simply signing for a couple of parcels. It only took me a few minutes to collect it and then start heading back to my room, I’ll be able to open them while I talk to Link after all. Really it would be cruel to make him wait after everything else he’s been through, even if he’s been monitoring… most of my movements, is it bad that I still feel bad after knowing that?

A shrill yelp followed by a shattering sound right when I was about to go back in wasn’t the best sign, the worst thing is that this time there wasn’t a digital overlay. Did someone break in - or break out? Only one way to find out.

“Honeybee? I - I’m sorry I - I really was trying to keep it in one piece.”

He’s out of the game.

Link is in my room bawling his eyes out because he accidentally broke my LED screen, the hero of hyrule is standing in my bedroom crying his eyes out because he broke a piece of glass. Earlier there was always a feeling of him trying to come off as likeable to me, to the point where it was manipulative, he wouldn’t even consider the idea of me not liking him. Now it’s like he’s having a panic attack at the possibility that I won’t like him because he broke my monitor. 

“I - I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Please - just - I - I didn’t mean to break it.”

“Link -”

“My clothes would probably be worth a fortune to someone right? I - I mean it’s an actual set of armour from the Hyrulian forces - it’s real chainmail. If you sell it - it’ll more than make up the cost, right? You won’t hate me if I did that, right?”

“Link. I don’t hate you, it was an accident and even if it wasn’t I would forgive you.”

That seemed to snap him out of it, if only a little; he’s still crying but now he’s not rambling about ways to make it up to me. He clearly seems to want me, even if I still don’t entirely get why so maybe I could; opening my arms proves the fact that he really does just want some affection. Waiting wasn’t even on the cards as he practically dove into my arms barely seconds after looking at me for permission. 

“You really don’t hate me then? Really? Even though I’m not as good as the other games?”

“I don’t hate you for wanting to get out of what was essentially your prison or - you being as good as the other games? Your game is different but it’s just as good”

“But - you and your friend both said it. I - I’m not canon. You still treated me well that‘s why I fell for you, but I’m still - I’m still less than the other games. So I just, I really wanted to prove to you that I can be the only one for you [name]”

Stroking his hair seems to be calming him down now, the tears are slowing and his breathing is evening out the longer I stay here with him; only a few more moments until I should be able to get some answers from him. Adjusting to having a roommate might be a little strange, he really does seem nice though, nicer than anyone else I’ve ever met. Wait no I’ve only really just met him, why am I already thinking about that? It’s something to consider for certain - oh come on, just admit to yourself that you love this. He cares so why not see where it all goes?

“Canon just describes the story, it doesn’t change anything about you and I’m sorry if it’s ever seemed like that link. Come on, I'll clean the glass up, then you can finish explaining things okay?”

“No wait, it’s my fault, let me clean it up for you. If nothing else, please honey.”

“You don’t have to, it’s not a bother.”

So he already knows his teary puppy face can get me to agree to anything, he’s been here for less than a few hours and it already feels like we’re in a relationship as he knows me inside out… Which makes sense given that he has been watching me through my phone. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad if I stopped fighting against what he’s offering.  The gloves he’s wearing make picking up shards less painful than it would be otherwise, doesn’t take him that long either.

Long enough for something to flicker on my switch, but that can wait.

[shunin-gumis]

Christmas Panic! Part 2

A Fragment of Happiness

These two will be the end of me.

Thank you aca and myun for proofreading!

Location: Downtown HAMA

Momiji: Phew! We managed to get a ton of stuff for making mini wreaths!

Nagi: Yeah. There were so many different colors and types for every little decoration, I couldn’t help but grab everything when I thought about what flowers would go with each of them.

Momiji: I can see that a lot of thought goes into making these! But thanks to you, I think we managed to put together a really good haul.

Momiji: I mean, I never would’ve come up with the idea to make mini wreaths using dry flowers myself!

Nagi: It’s nothing special… But, I’m glad I could help you pick something your family would like.

Nagi: We still need to get some ribbons, but how about we take a breather over at that bench first?

Momiji: You’re right.

Momiji: Phew… It’s starting to get pretty cold, huh? At this rate, we’re probably gonna have a white Christmas.

Nagi: True. It’s cold enough that maybe even Santa Claus would have to come down to earth to warm up too.

Nagi: …Chief, I’ll be right back.

*Nagi runs off*

Momiji: Huh? Wai– Nagi-kun!?

~~~

Momiji: (It’s been 10 minutes since he left… How far did he go…?)

Momiji: (Maybe I should’ve gone with him—)

Nagi: Sorry, Chief. I didn’t mean to take so long.

Momiji: Welcome back… wait.

Momiji: Is it just me, or do you look… more roughed up than before you’d left?

Nagi: …A lot of things can happen in 10 minutes. Like slipping on a snowman that started to melt and getting tangled up in a string of lights… 

Momiji: Oh no…! Did you get hurt?

Momiji: (Looks like even his bad luck is Christmas-themed….)

Nagi: Still, I managed to buy what I’d wanted.

Nagi: …So Chief, do you prefer coffee or cocoa?

Momiji: Oh… You went to get us drinks?

Nagi: Yeah. You looked like you were getting cold.

Nagi: I tried checking some cafes first, but they were all packed full. Then I spotted a food truck and decided to try my luck there.

Nagi: Call it a Christmas miracle, but I managed to keep the drinks safe and sound. They’re still warm too.

Momiji: Aw… Thank you so much. Then I’ll go for the cocoa.

Nagi: Great choice. This cocoa comes with a nice helping of marshmallows. It looks sweet and delicious.

Momiji: Wow, it really looks good! Mm~ It does smell pretty sweet! This really hits the spot!

Child who likes sweets: Mama! The cocoa that lady has looks really tasty! I want some too!

Nagi: Amazing. We managed to spread the gospel of cocoa. I’m sure sharing a nice cup of hot cocoa with her family will turn into a precious memory for her.

Momiji: Ahaha, true. A lot of families tend to go Christmas shopping together around this time.

Nagi: Chief… 

Momiji: Hm?

Nagi: Do you get along with your family too? Though, seeing you pick your presents with such care is probably proof that you do.

Momiji: (Nagi-kun…)

Nagi: …I was wondering what your family is like. We bought a lot of materials, but I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of wreaths would suit them.

Momiji: Let’s see… When I think of them, I mostly remember smiles. I’d say they’re a pretty cheerful bunch.

Momiji: I actually have a brother who’s not much older than me.

Momiji: He seems like he’s got it all together, but he’s actually pretty dense. He’s a bit of an airhead too, so I can’t really take my eyes off him for long.

Nagi: I see… Yeah, that does sound like someone related to you.

Nagi: Oh, um, I don’t mean anything bad by it. I meant more of the cheerful part, less of the airheaded— 

Momiji: Ahaha! It’s alright, don’t worry… I think you’d get along with my family.

Momiji: I’d love to introduce you to them one day. Especially my brother, I think he’d take a liking to you. 

Nagi: Meeting your family… 

Nagi: …… 

Momiji: Nagi-kun?

Nagi: …Sorry, I just tried imagining it. Somehow, I feel all warm just thinking about it.

Nagi: Like I’m actually a part of your family— 

*Nagi pales and goes stiff*

Nagi: Oh. Um. Nevermind. You probably think I’m gross for saying that.

Nagi: I’d probably just be a weed in your family’s backyard. A weed that’s better off being pulled out—

Momiji: Of course not!

Momiji: I’m really happy to hear you say that about my family.

Momiji: Besides, you’re pretty much already family to me, Nagi-kun.

Nagi: …… 

Momiji: …Um, maybe I’m the one being gross now?

Nagi: No… 

Nagi: I’m really… happy. Thank you, Chief. 

Momiji: Of course.

Nagi: …W-We should probably get moving. It would be bad if you were in a tough spot tomorrow from staying out too late. Yeah. That’s no good. Let’s get going.

Momiji: You’ve got a point.

Momiji: Nagi-kun, do you mind if I drop by tomorrow night? I want to make the wreaths together with you.

Nagi: Of course. I’ll make the best three wreaths of my entire career with you.

Momiji: Haha!

Nagi: (I should stay up tonight and practice…)

Nagi: (I was preparing a surprise for her, but looks like I was the one who got a gift instead.)

Part 1

Note:

I didn't do a Kaede version this time because he also says the exact same thing about Momiji.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

it's very bad no good cupcake baking time for the hotel crew (save them) (charlie did you think this throu-) (NO)

Charlie: “I have! The most brilliant plan for a group bonding activity!”

Angel Dust: “Oooh~ Bondin’ or bond-”

Vaggie: “You live here for free.”

Angel Dust: “Buy my silence, Vaggity Fair, cause’ it sure ain’t free.”

Vaggie: (groans) (slips him a twenty) “Go on babe, what’s the mission statement?”

Charlie: “We should all bake CUPCAKES together!!”

Hotel Crew: "......"

Husk: “…Why.”

Charlie: “Beeeecaaaause it’d be so SWEET!”

Vaggie: “And you also live here for free.”

Husk: “Not of my own free will I don’t.”

Charlie: “Aw c’mon Husk, please? Baking is probably KINDA like drink mixing, right?”

Husk: “It’s not.”

Vaggie: (SIGHS) (slips him a twenty)

Husk: “I’ve got cooking sherry around here somewhere, I think.”

Alastor: “How thrilling! Extreme heat sources, flammable liquids, and so many little bottles and vials that couldn’t possibly get mix up with anything in the pest control cabinet!”

Niffty: “Hee hee hee…. Rat poison~”

Vaggie: “Twenty bucks and you LOCK that cabinet, okay?”

Niffty: “Thirty and a new knife set!”

Vaggie: (has given up) “Fine.”

Niffty: “OKAY!”

Charlie: “We need to go shopping anyway. We’ll need flour and sugar and uhhhh flavory things of some kind probably and um, those little paper thingies- the cup cake… skirts?”

Alastor: “Glad to see how prepared our intrepid leader is for this marvelous expedition!”

Charlie: “Cup cake… dollies…?”

Vaggie: “I’ll handle it. You remember how to pre-heat the oven?”

Charlie: “NOT with actual fire!”

Alastor: “Aww.”

Angel Dust: (handing back the twenty) “I want a new pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs. Mine broke~”

Vaggie: “I don’t want to know.”

Husk: (handing his twenty back too) “Beer.”

Vaggie: “Beer? You run the hotel BAR.”

Husk: “What, you think I nip stuff under the table at work?”

Alastor: “Oh there isn’t much thought needed when it comes to you, I’m afraid.”

Husk: “You think I LIKE that I do that? That’s the stupid hotel’s shit, can’t relax sneaking shots that aren’t mine, racking up a tab like that. This beer is gonna be only for me.”

Charlie: “Husk…”

Vaggie: “Great whatever, guilt free beer for the alcoholic.”

Alastor: “How touching. And I require-”

Vaggie: “What YOU need is a-”

Charlie: “Happy place!”

Vaggie: “-which I’m not picking up for you. I’ll get more cleaning supplies too while I’m at it.”

Charlie: “More? Vaggie, have some faith! We’re all adults here! It’s not gonna be THAT messy. We just need to measure things, maybe chop some stuff up first-”

Niffty: “KNIVES.”

Charlie: “-put all in a- blender-? A blender would work for mixing, right? Then pour the batter in the things and into the oven! Which I WILL remember to preheat this time. Without fire.”

Vaggie: “Good point.”

Charlie: “See!”

Vaggie: “We should stock up on first aid stuff too.”

Charlie: (pouting) “We’ll talk about it on the way.”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, thanks for wanting to help carry groceries, but I really think we need to divide and conquer here.”

Charlie: “Huh?”

Vaggie: “Husk is already halfway to the wine cellar.”

Charlie: “He wh- Husk wait! You can’t help make friendship cupcakes if you’re blackout drunk!”

Angel Dust: “Toots that’s the whole idea.”

Vaggie: “Fifty bucks if he’s still conscious when I get back. I’ll need him in the kitchen later if we’re gonna get through this alive.”

Angel Dust: “Spend it on getting’ him a really NICE beer and you’ve gotta deal.”

Vaggie: (eye twitch) “Why is all my money turning into drugs and sex toys?”

Niffty: “And KNIVES!”

Vaggie: “The one silver lining…”

Alastor: “You know, if you won’t extend simple shopping list courtesies to me, then I suppose I shall have to go shopping myself as well.”

Vaggie: “Keep your shopping on the other side of town from me or I’m coming home with a flat screen tv.”

Alastor: (annoyed channel switch sound) “….Noted!”

– LATER –

Hotel Crew: “………….”

Oven: (DING)

Vaggie: “…”

Vaggie: “….cupcakes are done.”

Charlie: “Oh yay. Whoo. Hoo.”

Hotel Crew: “…….”

Vaggie: “If no one takes them out they’re gonna burn.”

Angel Dust: “Let ‘em.”

Husk: “Little fuckers deserve to fry.”

Charlie: (exhausted) “No one deserves to burn for all eternity.”

Niffty: “Yeah! I wanna RIP THEM APART and STAB THE CRUMBS.”

Alastor: “Well that’s two votes for burning and two for rescuing, to a certain extent. I myself would like to try out these DARLING cupcake toppers that I found while out doing my shopping completely alone.”

Vaggie: “Oh my girlfriend’s dad shut up. You won’t die just because no one was listening to you for ten minutes.”

Alastor: “In any case, that makes three for rescue and two for burn, with you as the undecided vote, Vaggie. Choose wisely~!”

Vaggie: (sighing) “Someone hand me the oven mitts.”

Husk: “They’re in the fucking blender.”

Angel Dust: “What’s left of ‘em.”

Vaggie: “Fine. Someone move the pile of dirty dishes off Charlie so SHE can be our oven mitts.”

Charlie: “It’s so peaceful under here…”

Vaggie: “The friendship cupcakes are dying, babe.”

Charlie: “UggghHHHHHH ‘kay. Coming.”

Angel Dust “That’s what she sa-”

Vaggie: “KNIVES.”

Angel Dust “-cough cough cough! I didn’t say nothin’, I got a piece of walnut shell stuck in my throat!”

Alastor: “Usual night for you then, hmm?”

Husk: “Who the fuck put in walnuts?”

Vaggie: “Who cares. If they shelled them then it’s at least better than the coconut thing.”

Charlie: “Did we add anything that wasn’t nut related?”

Vaggie: “Uhhh.”

Angel Dust “Nope!”

Husk: “Is that the only thing you were keeping track of.”

Angel Dust “Hey I know my strengths and I’m stickn’ to ‘em!”

Charlie: “Speaking of strength and sticking… um…”

Hotel Crew: “……….”

Charlie: “They’re bubbling.”

Vaggie: “Yeah.”

Charlie: “Or, breathing?”

Vaggie: “Yeah…”

Charlie: “Is that normal? It feels kinda… not normal.”

Vaggie: “It’s. Impressive.”

Niftty: “They’re ALIVE!” (knife) “For now.”

Charlie: “Well I guess we shouldn’t REALLY judge them until we’ve actually seen what they taste like-”

Angel Dust “Not it!”

Husk: “Fuck no.”

Alastor: “I’m terribly afraid that I am on a diet.”

Vaggie: “You eat rotting deer carcasses.”

Alastor: “And THEY aren’t still moving when I chow in, ha ha!”

Charlie: “Okay well, I guess I’ll just…”

Vaggie: “Wait. You’re probably immune to half the stuff that’d kill us.”

Charlie: “Right, so I should-”

Vaggie: “You’re not a good example of what happens when a non-demon princess person eats these, sweetie. If wanna test for uh, quality control, it shouldn’t be with you.”

Hotel Crew: “…..”

Vaggie: “….hand me a cupcake.”

Husk: (edges out of the splash zone)

Charlie: “You don’t have to do this.”

Angel Dust: “But you totally should! After I get my phone out though, hold on a sec-”

Vaggie: “I’m standing right in front of Radio Head over here so don’t even THINK about recording this.”

Alastor: “Aww my dear little angel-”

Charlie: “Alastor.” (calm smile) (horns out) “Her name is Vaggie.”

Alastor: “-Vaggie, yes, I would almost be willing to make an exception to my own morals for you.” (grins at angel dust) “Almost.”

Angel Dust: (lowering his phone) “I was jus’ takin’ a selfie. You know. Since I’m covered in sticky white shit anyway.”

Husk: “This fucking sucks.” (shakes his paws)

Vaggie: “No. THIS does.”

Vaggie: (bites cupcake)

Hotel Crew: “……………..”

Vaggie: “….hm.”

Hotel Crew: (STEPS BACK)

Vaggie: “It’s… well it’s kinda…”

Charlie: (cringing) “Break up worthy??”

Niffty: “PAINFUL?”

Vaggie: “It’s.. Fruity..?”

Hotel Crew: (stares at still moving cupcakes)

Angel Dust: “No. Fuckin’. Way.”

Husk: “Since the fuck WHEN did they have fruit in them?”

Angel Dust: “They didn’t! I swear I checked!”

Charlie: “Are they, um, edible?”

Vaggie: “Well I wouldn’t sign them up for a baking competition but I’m not dying either, so.”

Charlie: (excited) “So we did it? We all made actual cupcakes together?”

Vaggie: (smiling) “We did it. Mission cupcake completed.”

Charlie: “HAHA YUS!” (fist pump) “FRIENDSHIP POWERRRRRRR!!!!”

Alastor: “Now now now, no cupcake is fully complete without a lovely floral topper!”

Angel Dust: “Ain’t THAT the truth~”

Alastor: “Which I bought. Alone. Without any second opinion to rely on.”

Vaggie: (rolls eye)

Charlie: “And they’re so cute! Thank you Alastor- you picked wonderfully. Everyone, get decorating!”

Niffty: (drooping) “No stabbing?”

Vaggie: “You can poke ‘em each with a knife to check that they’re done.”

Niffty: “HEHEHEH.”

Vaggie: “Poke them with the knife ONCE Niffty- hey- NO- don’t leave it inside-”

Angel Dust: “That’s what-”

Husk: “Will be on your gravestone if she fucking hears you.”

Charlie: “Awww~ Now they’re adorable AND delicious!”

Husk: “Don’t.”

Angel Dust: “I didn’t say nothin’!”

Vaggie: “I actually kinda wish you’d go back to sex jokes instead of whatever you’re doing to that cupcake”

Angel Dust: “There’s more than one kind of oral performance in the world~”

Vaggie: “Say that and then look at what Niffty’s doing to her cupcake.”

Husk: “Unholy fucking shit!!”

Niffty: (GLEEFUL CACKLING)

Charlie: “Okay well, we clearly each have our own… unique ways of enjoying these cupcakes. Some more uh, graphic and concerning than others-”

Angel Dust: “Why the fuck are the insides RED like that?! Who put in red dye???”

Charlie: “-but the point is we all came together to make these sweets! Which. Taste like strawberries?”

Vaggie: “I didn’t buy strawberries.”

Charlie: “A-at least it and the redness go with the rose themed toppers!”

Angel Dust: “Yeah, I mean, is it weird that out of this whole maybe-living cupcake thing, the professional spun sugar parts are the ones with the funkiest taste to ‘em?”

Vaggie: “….”

Vaggie: “Alastor. Where the fuck did you buy the rose themed cupcake toppers.”

Alastor: “Hmm? Does my private, SOLITARY shopping FINALLY interest you?”

Vaggie: “Where you literally on the other side of Pentagram City from me.”

Alastor: “I do believe that is what you requested, and I, being a proper gentleman even to someone who might be considered a less than proper lady, was only too happy to oblige!”

Charlie: “Vaggie are you okay? You’re looking kinda pale.”

Vaggie: “I’m.”

Vaggie: “Alastor did you get these rose themed toppers-"

Vaggie: "-in Cannibal Town?”

Angel Dust: “WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Alastor: “I did.”

Angel Dust: “FUCK!!!”

Husk: (hairball noise)

Charlie: “Oh no.”

Alastor: “Dear Rosie gave me quite the discount. Wasn’t that sweet of her?”

Charlie: “Oh. Nooooooooo-”

Alastor: “I think it utterly darling of her~”

Niffty: “Alastor, hey hey!”

Alastor: “Yes, murder of my eye?”

Niffty: “I stabbed my cupcake topper heheheh WHO did I just stab????”

Charlie: “NOOOOOO-”

Alastor: “I believe it was an unsatisfactory husband by the name of Bill.”

Niffty: (grinning) “A BAD boy?”

Alastor: “Not bad enough to escape Rosie’s Emporium intact but yes, in a manner of speaking.”

Niffty: “Oooh.”

Niffty: (snatches up another cupcake and hugs it) “For my collection.”

Charlie: “GAAAHM NOT HEARING THIS! I DIDN’T HEAR IT!”

Angel Dust: “GREAT CAN YA MAKE IT SO’S I DIDN’T EAT ANY OF IT EITHER!??!”

Alastor: “Not to your tastes, Angel Dust? And here I though you enjoyed have strange men in your mouth.”

Charlie: “DO WE KNOW HIS ADDRESS SO I CAN SEND AN APOLOGY LETTER???”

Alastor: “I suppose his business card might still be in the hand Rose tore off him-”

Charlie: “AAAAAGH!”

Vaggie: “Hostia. You really can’t not be the center of attention for five minutes can you.”

Alastor: “I can, truly I can and very happily! It seems however that YOU cannot withstand the consequences of your own, short-sighted actions.”

Charlie: “Um guys-”

Vaggie: “Oh yeah? You’re not the only monster here, dumbass.”

Charlie: “We’re getting a little off topic-”

Alastor: "But as I am the only one not mired in glorious self-pity, certainly I am the most impressive specimen here.”

Charlie: “Okay this is going a bit-”

Vaggie: “Impressive HA! Fuck your empty grin and your stupid suits. You’re not even the one with the highest body count.”

Angel Dust: “Are we talkin’ sex stuff orrr-?”

Vaggie: (takes topper off her cupcake and pops it in her mouth)

Hotel Crew: “………”

Vaggie: “What?”

Charlie: “Vaggie, um. Person.” (points) “Person food.”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, you know how murder crazy exorcist are. You really never thought we didn’t lick a little blood off our weapons now and then, to feel extra badass about slaughtering people sometimes?”

Charlie: (dazed) “I’m thinking about it now.” (covers cheeks)

Niffty: “BLOOD!”

Angel Dust: “Oh ew. Oh you're getting off on that- Oh that’s just-”

Charlie: “Part of her past, a thing EVERYONE has.”

Angel Dust: “BLEH.”

Husk: “Also step one to seeing her shitfaced.”

Charlie: “Ha haaa…” (claps hands) “Okay everyone- that’s a wrap on today’s bonding activities! I uh, I think we can save the clean up until we’ve all recovered from the actual cupcakes a bit, right Vaggie?”

Vaggie: (shrug) “Whatever.”

Husk: “About damn time.” (sighs) (walks out) “I’ll get the fucking vodka.”

Niffty: "HEE HEE." (carrying cupcake over her head) "TO THE COLLECTION!"

Angel Dust: “Hold up baby! I wanna get shitfaced too after this!”

Charlie: “Well I think it’s all very interesting! Angel stuff is interesting, isn’t it Alastor?”

Alastor: “Yes. Quite.”

Vaggie: “Uh-huh.” (slumps and drops cupcake) “Bill tastes boring as hell, by the way, maybe let Rosie know before she sells anymore of these.”

Charlie: “Oh? Maybe THAT’S why she gave such a steep discount?”

Alastor: “Perhaps.”

Charlie: “Awww cheer up Alastor. You can bring her some of our cupcakes as a thank you, now that we uh, we’ve um, had our fill of them already.”

Alastor: “Hmph.”

Vaggie: “Think I’ll head up now.”

Alastor: “While grabbing a drink along way, hmm?”

Vaggie: “Yeah. Why not.”

Charlie: “Vaggie-” (catches her hand) (squeezes) “-grab one for me, too? I’ll be right behind you.”

Vaggie: “…wine from the cellar then, huh?”

Charlie: “I’m having whatever you’re having.”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, you hate the shit I drink.” (small smile) “I’ll get us something from the cellar. Meet you up there.”

Charlie: “In a heartbeat.”

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “Alastor.”

Alastor: “Oh don’t scold me for her baggage, dear, I don’t make her carry it.”

Charlie: “I’m not scolding. I just- I get that you have this whole-” (air quotes) “-annoying big brother who hates being ignored thing going on with Vaggie, and while it IS kinda sweet-”

Alastor: (microphone feedback) “Excuse me?”

Charlie: “Could you turn it down a tiny bit when it comes the exorcist stuff?”

Alastor: “I do not-”

Charlie: “I know I know you don’t mean to make her all droopy like this, it’s boring for you, totally a killjoy-”

Alastor: “There is NOTHING enjoyable about that woman!”

Charlie: “-So maaaaaaybe back off a little when things get too serious?”

Alastor: “NO!”

Charlie: “Think about it okay?” (pats his shoulder) “Anyway, thanks for sticking around for the friendship cupcakes, see you at the next hotel bonding session, Dadastor!”

Alastor: “At the next-”

Alastor: “………”

Alastor: (hissing) “DADastor!?”

[slavghoul]

From a short radio interview with Antyradio earlier this month, it’s sadly dubbed but here’s a translation of the more interesting bits:

Before we started recording the interview, I could hear you were playing something in your room. It seems like you're working on some new songs?

TF: The songs I'm currently working on may find their way onto the sixth album, but I can't tell you when that will be. What I can tell you for sure is that when I return from the tour at the end of October, I will devote myself completely to working on that record. Right now I'm trying to write good songs, and I'm getting a sense of the direction it's going in. I think it will be very guitar-oriented in a way. Right now it feels very 70s rock. What I have so far sounds a bit like 70s Scorpions or old Boston mixed with Fabio Frizzi. It’s hard to say right now because I’m far away from a finished record, so it’s hard to predict, but a year from now there’s gonna be a finished record and at some point in 2024 it’s probably gonna get out.

You write all the music yourself, so you can change the musicians you work with whenever you want, is that right?

TF: I try to do it as rarely as possible. I haven't made any significant changes in the last five or six years. Of course, sometimes it happens that someone prefers to do something else or can no longer find the time to do it. We all have our own lives and our own duties. Sometimes there is a conflict of interest. I always try to make everyone feel comfortable and keep things interesting, but it's unavoidable, you always have someone leaving.

How do you prepare for the physical exertion that touring entails? Do you workout?

TF: Yes, I have to do that every day because now I'm 42 years old. Moving around the stage, playing and singing for an hour at a time up to 1.5 hours is only possible because of the torture I put myself through [laughs]. It used to be easier, I didn't have to do anything at all, but now I have to work on myself to maintain a certain standard. Although sometimes I still have weaker days, or I get sick. Many of my idols are now my colleagues, I have talked to them about it. Steve Harris also works out a lot to look the way he does now. And he still looks just like he did in 1984, if you look at him from a certain distance he still moves around the stage just like he did back then. That comes at a certain price, but it's important. If you want people to want to watch you, to buy tickets to your concerts, you have to keep in shape, you have to deliver. That's my job.

[delphiniumarchangelmoon]

Realized that I have a lot of winter punk gear-jackets, pants, beanies, etc.

But nothing really good to wear for summer!

So I grabbed a pair of my mom’s old work pants she let me have and decided to make some fun shorts!

I wish they were more high waisted but I’ve never extended the crotch of something and tbh that sounds abysmal to accomplish.

Sorry about the big splotch on my mirror, It looks like tape residue which, who tf was taping things to an antique mirror?? Anyway it’s not coming off easily so. Deal with it

Details about creation below the cut:

So I cut them to just below mid thigh and used one of the remaining legs to create the side panels, I cut them into triangles and inserted them into a cut along the side seam (in hindsight I really didn’t need to cut through the waistband at all but I already did one side by the time I figured that out so I kept it consistent)

Then I tried them on, realized the panels weren’t flaring like I wanted them to and the part around the butt still sagged weirdly and added two more panels to correct this, smaller triangles in the center of the front and back of each leg to create the wide flare leg I wanted (cause it’s way more comfortable)

The striped fabric is a flat sheet from a bed set I was given for Christmas

The studs on the pockets were just standard craft studs from a sewing store and there’s only three on each back pocket because I ran out

Probably gonna try to bulk buy thrm online next time because they came in a really small package

The tiny safety pins were from the dollar store, don’t recommend paying money for those they’re really pathetic and weak.

The flag pin I painted myself from some old set my dad had, the pin underneath I got for free at a college club fair and the picture is a ribbon that says “I survived talking to my family about politics”

Planning on adding a patch or two, I have some nice ones from Etsy coming in the mail and I’ll update the post when those get here!

In all this took like… 3-4 hours? And I haven’t gone over the seams again to keep the sheet fabric from fraying but that shouldn’t take long I just got hungry and tried and my hands hurt so I’m done for the day.

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

Okay so you say you're a demigirl and a lesbian so I'm guessing you're theyfab as fuck. Listen bitch, when a trans girl tells you you're probably a terf, then you're probably a terf. Suck my dick. And no, I'm not the pedo accusing anon or whatever you mentioned in the rbs. Nice distraction tho.

what’s they-fab lol

If you have actual evidence of me being a terf then you can show me them, I’ll gladly do anything I can to change my way to make more people happy with what I’m posting. The problem is, you don’t seem to have real reasons to think that about me? It’d be a different thing if I kept buying Harry Potter merch and engaging in the fandom in a way that provides the author with my money, and I’ve already told you I don’t do that. I have almost all books in the series since I was a child, and the ones I’ve gotten this last year I’ve bought second-hand. Nothing new, no merch or anything, nothing that pays jkr.

So I do not engage in anything that helps the author keep on with her sick feminism. And I am a minor, so I’m gonna have to wait until I’m older and famous (lol I won’t be famous but I wanna be a singer) until I can criticise her in the open and have an actual audience that knows what I stand for. There’s not much I can do right now. All I can do is make sure that bitch doesn’t get a single euro from me, and that nobody thinks I support her. I guess I failed in that last part 💀

Okay, here you have it. I do NOT support the author of the HP books. I do not support ANY terfs or transphobes. I am trans myself and have a bunch of trans friends, and if you read @homocidalpotat’s response to your last message you’d know that. Even if I didn’t I’d support trans people anyway. I’ve supported y’all since day 1. And it’s gotten me in trouble in school, and it’s led to arguments between me and my mother. But that isn’t a reason for me to stop fighting for y’all, and I will continue to do this until the day I die.

I recommend you read @homocidalpotat’s paragraph. They said pretty much everything for me. The marauders fandom has made me and so many other trans people (and people in general) find something we have a burning passion for. Heck, some of us find the strength to keep living in this fandom. It’s a beautiful thing, and we all take distance from jkr and her bullshit. Do you even know the amount of fics we’ve all written? We read those more than jkr’s stupid, poorly written books.

I’ll say it again. Since I learned about trans people and jkr’s transphobia, I have not ONCE bought any of her stuff. I have not ONCE praised her. I’ve come across plenty of transphobes on this site and argued with them, and they are sick in the head. They are proud of their transphobia and do not hesitate to let us know what they stand for. If I were a transphobe, I would brag about it. But here I am, and being a bigot is nothing to brag about, and I’ll spend so many more days of my life fighting those bigots, even though they’ll never listen to us.

I get enough anon hate for supporting the trans community, and my friend got send a dick pic while arguing with a bigot about how someone’s genitals doesn’t decide what gender they are. I know how horrible transphobes are, and I hate to know that people think I’m one of them, but there’s nothing I can do to change your mind. I won’t waste too much time on you now, k? 💋

Stop sending hate. I get enough of that for being the very opposite of what you think I am.

P.S I am aware that trans people can be transphobes as well. That’s why I’d love to hear some of your reasons to think I’m one. If you’d just tell me your reasons, I’d do everything in my power to change that. But being in the marauders fandom isn’t enough evidence to me. Have a good day.

P.P.S I don’t wanna suck your dick, so I’m gonna have to say pass.

P.P.P.S Okay. Thanks for letting me know it’s not the same anon!