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seas-of-silver · 1 year ago

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The young rabbit hero quickly motioned to the surprised teenager to get into her portal before desperately shouting out, "Luka—Viperion, I need your help!"

The young rabbit hero quickly motioned to the surprised teenager to get into her portal before desperately shouting out, 'Luka—Viperion, I need your help!'

Luka tsked. 'Civilian and hero identity? Bunnyx, you're slipping.'

Bunnyx growled. Luka put his hands up as he chuckled in mock surrender.

'Be glad you found me when I was home alone, Alix,' he said as he entered the Burrow.

'Who's breaking rules now, snake boy?' Alix grouched, snapping the portal shut and stomping across the Burrow, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him along with a ferocity that made him immediately switch into focus.

Luka knew how playful Alix was; cheeky by nature, a jovial competitor, and while she was a realist, she would be able to find levity in heavier moments. Normally, if he pulled her up on a slip, she'd roll her eyes, cock her hip and sass right back at him with an anecdote of when he himself had stuffed up, just to make it an even playing field. Normally, there'd be a little more banter. This, however, wasn't normal, and it put him on edge. As he observed her, she was pale, sweating, tired, jittery... scared.

'What happened?' he asked.

'No spoilers,' she shot back curtly as she pulled him in front of another portal.

'Hey.' He pulled his wrist out of her grasp. 'If you're going to send me out of my time into something that obviously has you rattled, I'm going to need to know what I'm walking into - which includes what led up to whatever this is.'

Bunnyx sniffled, and that's when he saw it. It wasn't just sweat trailing down her face. Luka wrapped her up in a hug.

'What are you doing, man?' came her muffled voice from against his chest. 'You-'

'I can spare a moment to make sure you're okay,' he told her. She returned the hug, and he felt his shirt dampen with tears. He wasn't sure how long they stood there, but eventually she pulled away.

'Th-the villain, the new holder of the Butterfly,' she began as she wiped her eyes and attempted to refocus herself, 'she's... so much worse that we could have ever imagined. Hawk Moth, Shadowmoth, Monarch - he had at least some boundaries, some morals, some rules about what he did, some lines he wouldn't cross... but her? She's just... there's nothing she wouldn't do, and it's horrifying.'

Bunnyx shivered, her pale facade tinging green.

'Should... should I ask why you couldn't get the Luka of that time?' he asked cautiously. Bunnyx just shrunk in on herself, and his heart sunk at the mortifying, unthinkable reasons she wouldn't, or perhaps couldn't-

'Spoilers,' she whispered with a glimmer of a smile, and he relaxed. So perhaps it wasn't as bad as he wasn't imagining, right?

'We're down a few members of our usual team, and the ones who are fighting are being pushed to their limits,' Bunnyx continued. 'This akuma is complicated, relentless and devastating. When we get on site, I'll inform the team that you're here, and after that, observe, report back to the team, and for goodness sakes - don't let the akuma see you. It'll be game over if you do.'

'What, like Medusa or something?' Luka joked, but at Bunnyx's nod, he grew solemn.

'And that's just one of the akuma's abilities.'

'Shit.'

'Yeah.'

Luka heaved a heavy sigh. 'Anything else I need to know?'

'Don't touch the goo.'

Luka raised an eyebrow.

'Seriously, don't touch the goo,' Bunnyx warned him.

Luka nodded slowly as he called on his transformation. 'Goo is a no-go. Got it.' He looked back at her. 'See you soon, yeah?'

'Yeah,' she agreed softly. 'Be careful.'

He smiled before stepping through the portal. He was halfway through when he felt a hand pull him backwards.

'Wrong portal, dummy!' Bunnyx scolded, shaking her head as she lined him up with the portal to the left of the one he just walked through. 'What would you even do without me?'

'I'd probably be really bored,' he countered as she shoved him unceremoniously through the portal and onto a secluded rooftop.

'I got the young Viperion for you, team' Bunnyx announced into her comms. 'Don't lose him - he can't stay up past his bedtime.'

'Copy that,' he heard the chorus of voices through his earpiece as he put it in.

'See you later, Vipey,' Bunnyx said to him as she slapped his shoulder in farewell.

'Later, Energiser,' he replied, chuckling as she flipped him off before hopping back into the Burrow, the bright portal swirling shut behind her.

~/~

Ask game: Give me the first sentence and I'll write a short piece for it!

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bittersweetresilience · 1 year ago

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would you ever write something I disliked? the answer is no.

on a real note, would you ever write feluka? you like both these characters yes?

I FEEL LIKE YOU'D BE SURPRISED 🤣

but yes, i have written feluka! and i do like both of those characters! it's not my favorite pairing for either of them or anything but i have two fics in my documents hehe

(would you ever ask game)

#🌃#🏮#i should have known autumn always has my back 🥰#one of the fics is detective au and the other was a birthday gift for paracosmicat autumn #post-réplique exes feluka have angsty sex and luka turns back time afterward <3 #i only got a couple thousand words in but that was the idea anyway

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skitskatdacat63 · 2 years ago

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If I had a nickel for every time there was a romanlukas piss scene, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice

#i honestly still cant tell if my romanlukas dreams have been destroyed or not this ep #that scene btwn them from the trailer was not what i was expecting #but hey added piss-#much more angsty that i expected ig and less silly hatefucking? but thats okay :)#kinda love tho roman trying to wreck the deal but Lukas being like 'haha nope. thought you could get away from me ;)'#roman: *trying to tank the deal by being an asshole*#lukas: no :3 #i just hope thats not their last interaction 😭 pls give me more weird homoerotic power move scenes #just the proximity of their bodies in that piss scene aaahhhhhh *silently screaming* wtf is wrong with them i love it #roman try not to stand extremely close to other men challenge: failed #lukas is such a weirdo but i really can never hate an alexander skarsgard character so i kinda love him #still honestly cant tell if that blood scene with shiv was him telling the truth or not #hes such a weirdo that i honestly would not be that surprised if it was true #roman roy #lukas matsson #romanlukas #succession

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verfound · 1 year ago

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MINIFIC: Oct. 23: Day 20: Drowned (MLB, Lukanette, DLM AU)

Remember ch20 of Murder May? Where I tried to make coughing up blood sexy? The blink-and-you-miss-it reference to some “forgotten” kisses on Luka’s Death Day? 👀

For @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers October Minific Challenge 2023.

Read on Ao3

To Feel Alive Again: Ch20: Drowned

It’s hesitant at first.

Accidental.

She didn’t mean it.

She’s pretty sure he didn’t, either.

…even if she had secretly been thinking, dreaming, about it for a while now.

But it had been such a rough day for him. He’d been moodier than usual, brushing her off – brushing everyone off – with a grumble at best and a scathing remark at worst. He’d barely stayed for breakfast, and when she’d run after him…

“Just leave me the fuck alone, all right?” he snapped, yanking his wrist from her hand and spinning on her with a glare. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. You don’t need to worry over me, ok? I’ve been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you, Marinette. I don’t need a fucking caretaker.”

It was the cruelest thing he’d ever said to her – to anyone, that she had heard. And she hadn’t understood why, until she’d gone back into the café and had to excuse herself again because she couldn’t hold the tears back. Fred had followed her towards the restrooms and had pulled her into a hug. He’d told her everything – that it was Luka’s Death Day, that most reapers tended to get…testy on their Death Days. What with the memories they usually brought up. The regrets.

But it was Luka, and he was her friend, and…maybe it was her own naïveté, her own nurturing nature shining through, but…no one should have to go through that alone. She wouldn’t want to be alone, at least.

He’d been doing his best to drown his sorrows in an old bottle of scotch when she’d knocked on his door. He’d almost slammed it in her face – the door, not the bottle – until she’d pulled another one out of her bag.

“I know we can’t technically get drunk,” she’d said, offering him a tentative smile, “but…that doesn’t mean we can’t try, right?”

It had been Mendeleiev’s idea. Something about past experiences. Mendeleiev knew her team best, so Marinette had taken the tip for what it was.

And it was the alcohol. It had to be the alcohol.

And the general badness of the day. Luka losing his mind a little bit.

Because he totally wouldn’t kiss her if he was in his right mind…right?

They’d been laughing. Watching something old and dumb and…and cuddled on the couch, and she’d looked up at him and his face had been right there…and then his lips had been on hers. A hesitant touch. A feather-light brushing against each other, until her hands had fisted in his shirt and she had pulled him closer.

The next kiss hadn’t been so hesitant.

The one after that had been…but it wasn’t real, was it?

He couldn’t mean it.

It was such a bad idea.

He wasn’t kissing her.

He was just…sad. Lonely. Mourning a life he’d never get to have. He was trying to drown his sorrows, and since the alcohol wasn’t working…why not use her? It didn’t mean anything.

…she hated that she was willing to take it. If that was all he needed. All he wanted. She would let him use her as an escape, if they could have this moment.

But then his hands were slipping under her shirt, smoothing against her back and sliding up and under her bra to pull her closer as his mouth left hers and he trailed hot, desperate kisses along her jaw. As he found a spot on her neck that made her gasp and bit down, sucking gently and lapping at the mark. His knee was moving between hers, pressing against her butt to push her closer, and it was too much. She was too drunk for this – she wasn’t drunk enough.

Luka didn’t want her.

He just wanted to forget.

And as much as she wanted to give that to him…she was terrified her heart was already too invested to do it.

She had to work with him. She had to see him every day. There could be no hiding when it went south – he was in her afterlife, for better or worse. She couldn’t kiss him like this – she couldn’t…couldn’t…do this with him – just to see the morning and walk away. Just for him to confirm that it had been nothing more than…stress relief. A distraction.

…it would kill her, all over again.

“Lu…Luka,” she gasped, pushing on his shoulders and dislodging his mouth from…her throat went dry as she realized he’d pulled her shirt down. He’d been kissing her…nobody had ever kissed her…her chest before. “S-st-stop.”

His eyes were hazy when he looked up at her. Lust-drunk, if not actually drunk. They dropped to her mouth before looking back up, and she would swear she saw his pupils dilate.

“We…I…” she stammered, swallowing against the lump in her throat. He leaned in, sealing his mouth back to hers, and the sound she made as his tongue stroked along hers was enough to make her blush.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice rough and breathless and making her dizzy. “Don’t…just…dammit, Marinette…let me…”

He swallowed against his desperation, willing her to understand – and she did.

Which is exactly why she had to stop this.

“…I should go,” she whispered, her hand sliding along his stubbly jaw. She pulled his head back and pressed her lips to his, the kiss much softer than their others had been. “It’s…it’s late. Fred will worry.”

“You can sleep here,” he said. “It won’t be the first time. Or the last.”

…he didn’t know what he was saying, and that hurt worst of all.

She couldn’t do casual. She couldn’t ruin what they’d worked so hard to build just to make him feel better one night. He couldn’t ask her to.

“…I really can’t,” she said, frowning. “I…are you going to be ok, Luka?”

He watched her for a long moment, his kiss-bruised lips pressed together in a way that made her want to take it back. He closed his eyes and took a steady breath, and when he opened them again he looked…resigned.

“Are any of us ever ok, Marinette?” he asked softly. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Stay. Please.”

She wanted to.

God, how she wanted to…

“You’re too drunk –” she started to argue, but he nipped at her palm and made her jump.

“We can’t get drunk, Marinette,” he said, an edge to his voice. Like she had offended him by implying this was just the alcohol, which was ridiculous when she knew it was just…depression. Loneliness.

This wasn’t real. “I’m too drunk,” she insisted, cutting him off. She leaned back, biting down on her lip when his knee pressed against her and made her question her resolve. She reached up to adjust her top, to pull it back up over…to cover herself, and looked away from his dark eyes. His hands were on her hips, and he seemed to have no intention of removing them. She took a shaky breath and put her hands on his, tugging gently to remove them. “I need…I need to go. You…you should get some sleep, Luka. You’ll feel better in the morning. Everything…everything’s always better in the morning, right?”

“…I don’t think I will, Mari,” he whispered, twisting their hands so their palms were pressed against each other and he could lace their fingers together. Her breath caught, her eyes sliding back to his. He had never called her Mari before. He had never…she swallowed and leaned back down, pressing her lips against his forehead in a lingering kiss. They were friends. He didn’t actually want her like this. Convincing herself he did would only hurt them both in the end, and they had both been hurt too much to do that. She was doing this for them. She felt him push out a hard breath, the air warm against her neck, and repeated the words in her head: this was for them. “…you’re the only thing that ever feels ok anymore.”

It was said so softly she almost didn’t hear it. It was said so softly it was too easy to convince herself she hadn’t. Because this was Luka, and Luka would never say something so…open. Vulnerable. Not to her. Not to anyone.

“Get…get some sleep, Luka,” she murmured, resting her forehead against his. “I’ll pick you up for breakfast. Ok? We can walk together. Just like…just like we always do. And you’ll feel worlds better, because it will be tomorrow, and we’ll be ok, and you’ll be ok, and…get some sleep, ok?”

He didn’t fight her when she pushed him back against the couch, and he didn’t try to keep her there when she climbed off. He rolled towards the back of the couch so he wouldn’t have to face her when she tucked the blanket he kept on the back around his shoulders. He didn’t respond when she pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

If not for the mumble when she closed the door – whispered words she couldn’t possibly hope to catch so far away – she would have thought he’d fallen asleep.

She walked home on stiff, unsteady legs. One step in front of the other. She somehow made it back to her flat, ignoring Fred’s surprised greeting when she walked through the door. She waved, barely acknowledging him, as she went to her room. She closed the door behind her. Took the few steps to her bed. Collapsed.

She cried herself to sleep, her tears and the ghost of Luka’s lips hot on her skin.

She had done the right thing.

…so why didn’t she believe it?

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kronoose · 1 year ago

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Me casually thinking about Lukas older brother

Realizes that he sucks and I should do something about that

But also it makes sense story wise that he leaves because he's just human and doesn't know about the pack stuff (Wattpad rules)

This is all his og canon not Dndads-vers

He leaves at 17 for university and has no money to send home until much later but they've been basically no contact the entire time because the pack doesn't pay Luka for his work so he can't afford anything to keep an open Line of communication

Luka's colouring supplies are canonically from trash cans

Justin is much younger than Luka and is still In school

Luka never finished elementary as he's been working since his mother vanished

Please ask me more about my OCS

#angsty #oc luka stuff #sorry for rambling #oc rambling #sad 😞

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cheemken · 2 years ago

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pls can u tell us mre abt ur ocs

BFKDBSKS OFC owo

Anyways under the cut, also I'm just gon write stuff abt the first three I redrew, I'm gon add some facts for the other four tomorrow hahah

Elmara

•in her 50s, well, physically that is, since she's the Goddess of Darkness, she's basically immortal

•a retired actress, through one of their sets, that's how she and her ex met

-ofc, bc of the pressure of the people and their manager, that's how they got together

-she did try to believe there was smth good in him, but yeah ever since they had their kids he changed, or rather she finally just how fucked up he was

-so when they got divorced, she really fought to keep the kids. They divorced when Jacob (their youngest) was still around 3y/o

•really really really likes tea, the kids are sure the other 70% of her is tea

•since she still has her own dark magic, she uses it to create shadow like beings to guard around their home during nighttime

•after the incident with her ex husband, she homeschooled the twins Wilhelm and Yvonne, Percival, and Jacob

-it took years of convincing before she finally relented and listened to her kids to let them go to actual school

-the incident, well, when the twins were 7, Percival was 5, and Jacob was 3, they were kidnapped by their father; shit happened, he had them hostaged, was broadcasted, and he showed everyone just how he burnt Percival's face w a branding iron

-when Elmara saw that, she went batshit man, like really used her dark powers to turn every camera off, got to the safehouse her ex was, broke the lights and killed him then and there

-no one really saw that she's the one who did it, ofc, so she made the excuse that he really was losing it and killed himself

-everyone believed her bc why wouldn't they

•believes her brother is out there somewhere

-despite her bitterness, she does miss him

~~~~~

Katarina

•aroace, she/they icon, we stan

•looks can be quite deceiving, she actually works at a local shop near their home

-in her late 20s

•got her scar from a fight during her highschool years

-she was so proud of it bc she won that fight

-she doesn't really have to work, but she somehow wants to be independent and not rely on her mother's money all the time

-really close w the manager of said shop, wc is a sweet old lady still trying to run the place for 10 years now

-really soft spoken when it comes to her boss ngl

-she actually didn't try to apply for the job as a clerk, she was called in to fix smth since she's a mechanic (but didn't get to finish her degree)

-they ended up applying bc they saw the manager and went "yeah, this place is gonna go bankrupt and Im too attached to this old lady at this point" after their boss gave her cookies as a thank you

•honestly rather dense ngl

-one customer was flirting w them and they're there wondering why she kept coming back when she said once she's going broke

•protective of her siblings ofc

-altho, she does get pissed at the twins sometimes but hey, they just love to mess w her

•really good cook, everyone's fuckin surprised

•actually saw the dark beings her mother made during night one time

-scared the shit outta em, but they didn't tell anyone cause she thought maybe she was just tired and was seeing things

•quick tempered, broke a ton of phones during her teen years

-Elmara had to make a compromise that if she breaks another phone she won't be getting one for another ten years

-that made her more careful with her stuff

~~~~

Luka

•genderfluid, he/they icon, we stan

-also in his late 20s

•an absolute freeloader

-Katarina has to force him out of the house sometimes and makes him help out in the shop

•is in a band as a lead singer

-tried to rope in Katarina in his band, but to no avail

•loves to help the twins w pranks

-got in trouble a few too many times

•took music in college, somehow it actually payed off

-his band is actually quite successful

-then again, he has the Galeas name, so he was already famous

•hes the type of sibling that can sense someone in distress a mile away and would try to cheer them up w his music

-he actually sang for the twins when they were still younger

-thats why they're close w him

•heard someone shit talk his mother once, threw hands w them and surprisingly he won

-it was 1v4

-Elmara was so fuckin worried abt him but his siblings were impressed

•lowkey a mama's boy actually, Elmara spoiled him rotten when he and Katarina were younger

-yeah really the opposite of Katarina

#love how this went from kinda angsty w elmara and rather mundane to kat and luka hahah #but hey yeah thanks for the ask cjdmnd #its so nice being able to talk abt em hahaha #an ask and an answer #anon #oc tag

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drowning-in-paragraphs · 2 months ago

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RECKLESS

a/n: requests are open!

jude bellingham x gf!readerfootballer

warnings: it´s suuuper long, a bit angsty and the reader has CIPA.

summary: the mix of your clumsiness, your condition and your stubbornness are driving your boyfriend, Jude crazy. After a serious injury during a match, tensions flare as his protectiveness clashes with your determination.

It was a typical day at the training ground for Jude Bellingham. The buzz of excitement around Real Madrid´s latest match win lingered in the air as the team went through their drills, but his mind wasn´t entirely focused. It was elsewhere, back home, with you.

You were supposed to meet him after yours and his training, and like always, Jude couldn´t wait. Ever since you two had started dating, he´d always found himself thinking about you during the most mundane moments of his day—how you´d smile when he´d joke about anything, the way your eyes lit up when he spoke about his passions, and even when you´d roll your eyes whenever he playfully teased you.

But lately, something else had been on his mind.

"Hey, Bellingham, you alright?" Brahim´s voice pulled him back to reality. He shook shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts away.

"Yeah, yeah. Just... thinking."

Luka, who was near them, raised an eyebrow, and Brahim decided not to press any further. Everyone on the team had noticed that Jude had been a little off for the past few weeks. It wasn´t something major, but subtle things—he´d had a hard time until he focused, and he´d be constantly glancing at his phone, as if waiting for some sort of update. The captain had learned not to pry too much, but as they jogged off the field, Luka gave him a pat on the back.

Jude sighed. He knew exactly why he couldn´t get you off his mind. It was the bruises.

At first, he thought it was just a few clumsy accidents. You always were the type to bump into things—doorframes, tables, chairs that you´d swear hadn´t been there a minute ago... It was endearing in a way, your natural clumsiness, but it also terrified him.

The extent of the bruises, wounds, or sometimes cuts, were usually too significant for you to ignore. At first you joked around, really thinking you had some sort of “superpower or superstrength” because you didn’t even realize it or feel pain, but one day, after cutting yourself trying to cook, you both realized that you didn’t feel anything at all.

Jude insisted you go to the doctor. There, you were given a diagnosis that, coupled with your natural clumsiness, had your boyfriend worried sick the whole time.

The thing about you was that you didn´t just bruised easily—you never felt the ache. You had CIPA, which was a rare condition where you couldn´t feel physical pain, no matter how severe the injury. You could trip, fall, even break a bone, and you wouldn´t even flinch. And while you took it in stride, laughing it off most of the time, Jude wasn´t so easily comforted.

He remembered the first he´d recognized the severity of it. You had shown up to his place with a bruise the size of an apple on your thigh and hadn´t even realized it was there until he pointed it out.

"Babe, it´s just a bruise," you´d said, laughing it off.

"You really don´t feel that? It looks bad," Jude had pressed, his voice laced with worry.

"Nope," you had replied with a shrug. "Perks of the condition, I guess."

But Jude didn´t see it as a perk. He saw it as dangerous. What if something worse happened and you didn´t even know? What if you hurt yourself badly, and by the time someone noticed, it was too late?

And now, it seemed like every time he saw you, there was a new injury. Sometimes on your arms, other times on your knees, and you always had the explanation: "I just bumped into something, no big deal."

However, he wouldn't calm down until he saw you and made sure you hadn't crashed into a table that day.

That afternoon, as training wrapped up, Jude´s phone buzzed with a text from you: "See you in 30 at your place?" He smiled at the message but quickly sobered when he imagined what new mark he might see today.

When you arrived at his apartment, you were greeted with his warm embrace and a kiss on the forehead. But as soon as he pulled back, his eyes darted to your body, scanning you.

"What´s this?" he asked, gently running his fingers over the small purple bruise on your elbow.

You sighed, recognizing the tone in his voice. "Jude, it´s nothing. I just bumped into a cabinet this morning. You know how I am."

"Yeah, but... babe, you´re covered in scratches, bruises and cuts all the time," he said, frustration creeping into his voice. "You can´t keep brushing it off like this."

"I have to brush it off because it´s not a big deal," you said, pulling your arm away from his touch. "I don´t feel it. It´s just part of living with CIPA."

Jude´s jaw tightened. "But you can´t feel when something´s wrong. That´s what scares me."

"I´m careful!" you protested, though you knew deep down that that wasn´t entirely true. You tried to be careful, but your clumsiness combined with your condition meant accidents were inevitable. Still, Jude´s constant worrying was starting to wear on you. "You´re always hovering, Jude. Lately, I can´t even walk around without you asking me if I´m okay."

"Because I care about you," he said, his voice rising with exasperation. "Do you know how hard it is to watch the person you love get hurt and not even realize it?"

Your chest tightened. You hated seeing him like this, but you also hated being treated like you were fragile. "Jude, I´m not made of glass."

"No, but you could seriously hurt youself, and you wouldn´t even know it!"

You crossed your arms, frustration bubbling up inside you. "I don´t need you to baby me. I´m fine. I´ve been living with this my whole life. Just because I now have a diagnosis doesn't mean I'm suddenly unable to take care of myself."

But Jude wasn´t letting it go. "You say that, but every time I see you, there´s something new. What if one day it´s not just a bruise, huh? What if you break something and don´t notice? Or worse?"

"I would notice, Jude!" you shot back, your voice cracking slightly. "I´m not reckless."

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room. "You don´t get it. I see these marks, and it just... it scares me. It makes me think I´m not doing enough to protect you."

Your heart should´ve softened a bit at that, but the weight of his protectiveness was beginning to feel like a cage. "I don´t need protecting, Jude. I need you to trust that I can handle myself."

He stopped pacing and looked at you, his eyes pleading. "You can´t."

For the next few days, the tension between the two of you hung in the air, and in an attemp to ease Jude´s worries, you started hiding the bruises. You wore long sleeves, pulled your socks up higher to cover the marks on your legs, concealer for the more noticeable spots, and became more concious about how you presented yourself around him. It wasn´t like you were trying to lie to Jude; you just wanted to avoid another argument. You thought it was working. That things were getting better.

That was until an incident during your training. The match was near and you´d been pushing yourself hard, trying to keep up with your personal goals, when you took a bad fall. Of course you didn´t even realize anything was wrong until one of your teammates pointed out later in the changing room.

You had look at it, but decided that it wasn’t that bad to take care of, and now you were cooking dinner to surprise your boyfriend after his own training session.

He´d walked in, tired but smiling, and wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Smells amazing," he murmured.

You smiled, leaning into his warmth. "Just wait until you taste it."

But when his hands brushed against your sides, he froze, his fingers suddendly stopped tickling your skin and felt tense.

"Y/N..." His voice was sharp, and you knew immediately what was coming.

"What?" you asked, trying to keep your voice light as you stirred the pot in front of you.

He pulled back just enough to spin you around to face him, his hands sliding under your shirt to reveal the large scratch and bruise on your ribs. It was deep purple, spreading across your side.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded, his tone a mixture of anger and fear.

You winced—not from pain, but from the look on his face. You hadn´t even realized the bruise was that bad.

"I...I fell during training," you stammered. "It´s fine, Jude, it´s not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" His voice rose, panic edging into it. "This is exactly what I´ve been talking about! You didn´t even notice!"

"Because it doesn´t hurt!" you argued, frustration creeping up your skin. "Jude, I can´t help it. I don´t feel pain like you do. I´m not going to feel every little thing."

"That's the—," he began, trying to calm himself down so he wouldn't scream, but that didn´t work. "That's the problem!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the kitchen walls. "You don´t feel it, and you´re not being careful, you keep getting hurt. And I can´t keep watching you like this, wondering if one day it´ll be worse than a bruise or a scrape."

"Stop!" you shouted back, your patience snapping. "You treat me like I´m going to break!"

For a moment, the only sound in the room was both of your breathing heavily, staring at each other. His eyes were wild with anger, and you felt the weight of his words hanging heavy between you.

But deep down, you knew he was right. You weren't taking care of yourself, and you had been lucky that you hadn't been severely hurt yet. You thought about him being freshly injured every day, and your heart sank.

"I’m sorry," you admitted. "You’re right."

He looked at you with an expression that was a mix of worry and frustration. He was angry and most likely needed some time to cool down. "You can't keep going like this. You have to prioritize yourself or I think I'll go crazy."

You watched him, a mix of gratitude and defiance swirling inside you. Clearly, Jude meant well, but the thought of listening to him felt like a loss of control over your own autonomy. You took a deep breath, pushing aside the surge of vulnerability. “I’m fine,” you said firmly, holding his gaze. “I need you to trust me.” And with that, you turned slightly and continued with dinner.

The next day, the sun was high, casting its warmth across the Real Madrid Femenino stadium as you laced up your boots in the locker room. Game day always came with a rush of excitement, and you thrived in the electric atmosphere that football brought to your life. As a midfielder for Real Madrid’s women’s team, you were used to the pressure, the intensity, and the speed of the game. It was your passion, and nothing could keep you off that pitch.

Jude had been to countless matches of yours before, watching from the stands with pride. Today was no different. He had been in the crowd since the warm-up, watching your every move, but he was already tense. After your constants discussions he watched with a little bit of worry, but you were good at compartmentalizing your life on the pitch. Here, you were a footballer. The rest? That could wait until after the final whistle.

When the whistle blew to start the game, you felt the familiar surge of adrenaline as the ball moved fluidly between your teammates. Everything was going smoothly until about the 70th minute, when the pace of the game shifted. The opposing team was down by a goal, and they were getting desperate, pushing harder and playing rough.

It happened in an instant.

One moment, you were chasing down a loose ball, and the next, a defender from the opposing team came charging in too hard. You didn’t see her until it was too late. Her cleats collided with your leg, sending you sprawling onto the pitch. The impact was brutal, your body twisting awkwardly as you hit the ground. Blood immediately pooled from a deep gash along your shin, staining the grass beneath you.

But as always, you felt nothing. No pain. Just the rush of confusion and the startled gasps from the crowd.

Jude was already standing in the stands, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw you lying on the ground, bleeding from your wound. He started to complain as the rest of the stands, filled with family members of your teammates that yelled as well. He felt his throat close up, helpless as he watched the medical team rush onto the field.

The referee blew the whistle to stop the game, and the medics were quick to assess the damage. But, of course, you were already pushing yourself up, brushing them off with a wave of your hand.

“I’m fine! I can keep playing,” you insisted, trying to shake them away.

One of the medics, a woman with furrowed brows and a calm but firm tone, knelt beside you. “Y/N, you’re bleeding. We need to take you off the pitch.”

But you were stubborn, standing up fully now, albeit wobbling slightly. “I’m fine. Let me keep playing. We only have 20 minutes left.”

Misa Rodríguez, your captain, approached, looking at you with a mixture of concern and disbelief. “You’re injured. Go inside, don´t worry, we got this.”

“I’m telling you, I’m fine!” you argued, frustration bubbling up inside you. You didn’t feel the pain, you didn’t feel anything, and you didn’t see the point in leaving the match. Your team needed you.

The referee shook his head. “You’re coming off. That’s final.”

You couldn’t help it—the anger got the better of you. “This is ridiculous! I can play! I’m not even in pain!”

It was then when the referee pulled out a red card, holding it up in your direction. The public gasped, and you stood there, stunned. You couldn’t believe it. You were being sent off—not for your injury, but for arguing.

The medical staff moved in quickly after that, no longer asking for your permission. They carried you off the pitch as you continued to protest, and the frustration burned in your chest.

Jude had been pacing for what felt like hours. As soon as he saw you bleeding, he’d practically jumped out of his seat, his anxiety skyrocketing. He knew how stubborn you were, how you didn’t feel pain, but this? This was something else. It was as if the last few weeks and the fights hadn’t meant anything. You weren’t just clumsy and stubborn anymore; you were downright masochistic and irresponsible. Jude was going out of his mind trying to think of the first thing to say, crossing his fingers that the impact wouldn’t be as strong as it seemed. He was really pissed off.

The second they took you into the medical room, he’d rushed down from the stands, demanding to know what was happening, practically climbing the walls of the stadium with worry. He didn’t care that the game was still going on, didn’t care about anything except getting to you.

When he finally found you in the medical room, sitting on the exam table with a bandage wrapped around your leg, he felt a mixture of relief and frustration flood through him.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Jude practically burst through the door, his voice sharp with panic.

You looked up, startled by the intensity in his voice. “Don´t worry. It’s just a cut.” And you tried to smile, maybe that could calm him down.

“A cut?” he echoed, his voice rising. “You were bleeding all over the pitch, Y/N! And you wanted to keep playing?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to stay steady, but his frustration was starting to grate on you. “I didn’t feel it, okay? I wasn’t in pain. I could’ve finished the game.”

Jude ran a hand through his hair, pacing the small room. “What? Are you serious right now?”

You sunk in the stretcher. “Jude, I’m a footballer. Injuries happen. It’s part of the game.”

He stopped pacing and turned to face you, his eyes full of desperation. He was going to say something, but before that, you interrupted him.

Your chest tightened at his eyes. But still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was overreacting. “I get it, Jude, I do. But you can’t keep freaking out every time something happens to me. I know my limits.”

“Do you?” Jude shot back, his voice harsh. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. You’re so focused on proving that you’re fine that you don’t realize how dangerous this is. You should have stopped the game. You should’ve let them take care of you, but instead, you’re arguing with the ref like it’s nothing! Every single footballer knows that when blood is spilled, they should go to be taken care of.”

You stood up, despite the medics telling you to sit down. “Jude, I can handle myself!” you insisted, your voice rising above the chaos of the field outside.

“Handling yourself doesn’t mean ignoring common sense,” he shot back, frustration lacing his words. "You’re not invincible. You’ve got to understand that. I love you, I can´t keep seeing you injured. I can´t. Please, Y/N."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. For a moment, you were silent, staring at him, trying to find the right response. You’d always been independent, ever since your diagnosis you had brushed off your condition as something you could manage on your own. But Jude wasn’t just worried for the sake of it—he was scared. Scared of losing you, of seeing you hurt without being able to do anything about it.

“I...” you started, but the words caught in your throat. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

Jude stepped closer, his voice softening slightly, though the worry still lingered. “I know you want to keep playing, and I know you’re strong. But you can’t keep acting like you’re invincible. If you keep being reckless, something might happen and that terrifies me.”

You lowered your gaze, feeling the weight of his words. “I’m sorry,” you finally said, your voice quieter now. “I just... I didn’t want to scare you. I love you.”

Jude sighed, stepping forward to gently cup your face in his hands, his thumb brushing your cheek. “I love you too. I need you to be safe.”

You nodded, feeling the tension between you finally begin to ease. “I’ll try to be more careful. I promise.”

Jude pressed a kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "Thank you." He kissed you again. "Now, let´s get this healed."

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