#ii 17 messed me up

[luneinary]

steve cobs hate club

[watchinz]

Trying out some new designs ig.... look chat, let me cope okay??????

[drawingoddessy]

Spoilers

i literally can’t cope after that

Why the hell did they do that to poor Paintbrush

:(((

AND FAN-

THE WAY HE ACCEPTED HIS FATE SO QUICKLY

How am I supposed to function after this?

Is there an act 3?

What would even be a happy ending at this point?

Everyone would be so MESSED UP after this

[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

Extra Warning! This chapter touches on Whitney's serious mental health struggles. It’s brief but dark so if that is at all potentially triggering to you please be advised and DNI. <3

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 17 - 'Release’ | ‘Act II’

word count - 10.8k

The next morning felt like a slow unraveling of time, every second stretching into a lazy, intimate eternity. You could feel the dull ache of your hangover pulsing behind your temples, but it was softened by the warmth of Jude’s body against yours, the weight of his arm draped protectively over your waist. His skin was warm, his chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm that you matched unconsciously. The sheets beneath you were a tangled mess, but you didn’t care. The scent of last night still lingered in the room—a mix of his cologne, your perfume, and something indescribably you, together. You blinked slowly, your eyes tracing the curve of his jaw, the way his eyelashes fluttered just slightly in his sleep. His lips, still swollen from your kisses the night before, were parted just enough to reveal the soft exhale of his breath. You smiled to yourself, feeling the pull of something deeper in your chest, something that made your heart feel both full and weightless at the same time. He was everything in this moment. Peaceful, beautiful, untouchable by the outside world. You felt safe here, cocooned in this space with him. Without thinking, your fingers drifted up, lightly tracing the outline of his face, memorizing every angle. The perfect slope of his nose, the sharp line of his cheekbone, the softness of his lips. It was like looking at a work of art, but one that you were lucky enough to hold, to touch. Jude squinted one eye open, catching you in the act. His lips curved into a sleepy smirk, the kind that always made your stomach flip. 

“It’s impolite to stare,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep, but there was amusement laced in his words.

“I wasn’t staring,” you replied, your voice playful. “I was admiring.” You giggled softly, caught, but not embarrassed. He chuckled under his breath, his grip tightening around you as he pulled you closer into his chest, burying his face into your hair. His warmth enveloped you, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. Just the two of you, wrapped in the aftermath of the night before, tangled up in each other. But even as his body relaxed against yours, you could feel a subtle shift in him. His arms held you tighter, almost protectively, and the lightness of the moment seemed to dim just slightly. His breathing was steady, but you could sense his mind wasn’t as quiet as it seemed. Jude’s thoughts were miles away, replaying moments from the night before. As much as he loved the way things had unfolded in bed—the passion, the connection, the way you melted into him—his mind kept circling back to the bar at the party. To the man who had cornered you, who had dared to touch you in his absence. He hated how it made him feel—both protective and vulnerable at the same time. He had always been confident, but seeing someone else invade your space had hit something deep within him. He shifted slightly, his hand drifting down your back, fingers splayed over your bare skin as if grounding himself in the fact that you were here, with him, safe. But his mind wouldn’t stop spinning. He loved that you needed him, that you trusted him to take care of you. But a creeping worry nagged at him—what had you been like before he arrived? How often had you been in situations like that, with men who didn’t respect boundaries, who tried to blur lines? His jaw tightened at the thought. He knew you were independent, that you could handle yourself. But the idea of anyone else putting you in a position where you felt vulnerable, where you were uncomfortable, made his stomach twist with unease. He didn’t want to be controlling—he wasn’t controlling—but the protective instinct in him was stronger than anything else. You noticed the slight tension in his body, the way his hand gripped you a little more firmly, and you glanced up at him. His eyes were closed again, but there was something there, behind his serene expression, something he wasn’t saying. “Jude,” you whispered softly, tracing your finger over his chest, “are you okay?” He opened his eyes, blinking down at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but then closing again. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.” He didn’t want to worry you, didn’t want to burden you with the thoughts swirling in his mind. Instead, he forced a smile, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“About what?” You raised a brow, not entirely convinced but trying not to press.  His eyes softened as he looked at you, and for a moment, he almost told you everything. Almost let the flood of emotions spill out. But instead, he kissed your forehead, holding you a little tighter. 

“Just about how lucky I am,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “To have you here with me.” You smiled, your heart swelling at his words, but there was still a hint of worry behind your gaze. You could tell something was on his mind, something he wasn’t ready to share just yet. But for now, you let it be. You stayed curled up against him, letting the morning stretch out in quiet intimacy, the world outside your little bubble fading away .And as the silence lingered, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of his heart beating beneath your hand, steady and sure, just like him but then Jude’s uncertainty came to a head.

“Angel… Can I ask you something?”Jude cooed gently, almost hesitantly. You hummed agreeing to let him. “Why did you use to go out so much before?” he asked again, more softly this time, his thumb grazing the back of your hand as if to encourage you to open up. Jude’s question hung in the air, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of it. The warmth of his body against yours was a stark contrast to the coolness of the question, but it did little to calm the nerves building inside you. You shifted slightly in his embrace, trying to think of how to answer, but everything felt so complicated, so much harder to explain than it seemed.

“Why did you?” you threw back, hoping to deflect, but Jude didn’t smile. You tried to play it off at first, giggling lightly. His face remained serious, though not in a way that made you feel uncomfortable—more like he was trying to understand something about you, something he didn’t yet know. He let out a long sigh, his eyes flicking away from yours for a moment, like he was sifting through memories. 

“I guess I thought it was what I was supposed to do. You know… with everything, being a footballer, it just felt like part of it. Being out, being seen. I had the ability to.”  His words felt real, like a confession, but they were laced with a casualness that didn’t quite touch the weight of what you were about to share. You swallowed, suddenly feeling shy, your fingers playing with the hem of the blanket. 

“I… I don’t know if you’d want my real answer,” you murmured, looking away from him, your voice catching a little in your throat. You didn’t want to say it out loud, didn’t want to expose that part of yourself, the version of you that had been so lost before Jude. Jude’s hand gently cupped your chin, guiding your face back toward him. 

“I do. I really do,” he whispered. His eyes were soft, searching yours with such tenderness it nearly broke you. You let out a shaky breath, your words stumbling as you tried to explain. 

“Wel, I guess similarly I had the ability to. I had the access and I think... I did it to feel something. I just wanted emotional freedom. But it wasn’t just that.” You took a deep breath reflecting momentarily.  “It was like... I wanted to feel in control of something in my life. Everything and I mean everything has been set for me even down to the way I was supposed to feel. I know I was privileged but I had… I had no freedom to do anything but what they told me to do and say and… feel. Everything else felt so out of reach, but when I was out—when I was drinking or dancing or being with people—I could control how I felt. I got to decide. Or, at least, I thought I could.” You sighed. The vulnerability of what you just said hung in the air between you two, and you couldn’t meet his eyes. Your heart thudded heavily in your chest, bracing for his response. Jude stayed quiet for a long moment, his hand resting on your waist. The pressure of his touch wasn’t intense, just enough to let you know he was there, listening, absorbing every word. His thumb rubbed gentle circles on your skin, a motion that soothed you, even though you still felt exposed. Finally, he hummed softly, like he was processing everything you’d said. “Does that bother you?” you asked quietly, a touch of fear slipping into your voice.Jude shook his head slowly, his hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and deliberate. 

“No, angel. It doesn’t bother me,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I get it. I do. It’s just… it’s different now because you’re mine. It makes me a bit nervous to imagine it all.” He paused, his words sinking in as he continued. “I just want to be the one looking out for you. Making sure you’re okay. That’s all.” There was so much love in his voice, so much sincerity, and yet, a tiny spark of something else flickered inside you. Annoyance, maybe even frustration. Jude’s past hadn’t exactly been squeaky clean either. Actually far from it and while he was trying to be protective, part of you felt like there was a double standard.

“It’s just... you went out a lot too, you know?” you said, your voice quieter than before. “You’ve had your wild nights. I know that.” You tried to swallow it down, but the feeling nagged at you. Jude sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before letting it fall back to your side.

“I know, I know,” he admitted. “I mean I wasn’t perfect either. But now, it just feels different. Now that I love you—now that you’re mine—I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you. I don’t want you to feel like you need to do that anymore.” You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat feeling a bit defeated by his comment. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. “I just want you to be safe, that’s all,” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head. You nodded, but the tension was still there, lingering just beneath the surface. It wasn’t that you didn’t understand where he was coming from, but the past was complicated. You had done what you had to, lived how you felt you needed to. It didn’t change how you felt about him now, but it was hard not to feel a little defensive. Still, you stayed in his arms, letting the warmth of his embrace soothe the unease in your chest. As much as it frustrated you, you also knew that Jude just wanted to take care of you. You were his angel, his glass angel, and he was terrified of anything breaking you. The tension in the room was still palpable though, despite the soft light of the morning filtering through the curtains. You lay there, your head still throbbing from the night before, your body half-draped onto Jude. You annoyance in the silence began to grew the longer it continued. The conversation had taken a sharp turn, and the last thing you wanted was to revisit it now. But Jude was insistent. The weight of the argument settled over you both, heavier than the hangover that gripped your body. He was being hypocritical, and you both knew it. Jude’s wild past was no secret. He had a reputation before you, and the irony of his discomfort now, as your boyfriend, was glaring. The frustration bubbled up inside you, sharp and sudden, as he told you he didn’t like the idea of other men being part of your past. It was as if, now that he loved you, your history wasn’t just yours—it was something that unsettled him, something he wished he could rewrite. When he told you, in that controlled tone of his, that you didn’t need to act that way for control in your life, it felt like a slap. 

“I didn’t need to do anything, Jude. It was a release.” Your response was slow but sharp. You could see it in his face—he hated that. Hated that you had any other outlet before him. You weren’t sure if it was possessiveness or just his own discomfort with the idea that you had a life before him, a past that wasn’t his to control. 

“Angel…  I just don’t like...” And when he started to say more, you cut him off, words spilling out before you could stop them.

“Jude…” Your heart sank a little, not because you didn’t understand where he was coming from, but because you could already feel the weight of the conversation pressing down on you both. 

“I know,” he interrupted you now, sitting up slightly, his back against the headboard. He pulled you with him, settling you in his lap so you were facing him now. His hands rested on your hips, holding you in place as he looked at you, the frustration evident in his eyes. “I know it’s hypocritical. I’ve been with other people before you…” He said it and you winced at the reminder. He took a deep breath feeling your body shift. “I don’t get to sit here and judge you. But…”

“But you don’t like it,” you finished for him, your tone a little sharper than you intended. “You don’t like…” You tried to keep talking but couldn’t get your next word out. He looked away for a moment, his jaw tightening as he tried to find the right words. 

“It’s not that,” he muttered. “It’s not about your past. I just… I don’t like thinking about you having to deal with other men. The way he was all over you last night… it makes me feel— Angel, I don’t like…” He then paused. You two were tired and clearly terribly out of sync this morning. 

“What— so you don’t like me?” You snapped. It wasn’t a question, not really. It was a challenge, an accusation, something loaded with all the weight of the conversation that had spiraled out of control. Jude’s face was unamused, and the silence between you both stretched long, punctuated only by the dull pounding in your head. You closed your eyes, trying to will away the argument, the headache, the ache in your chest. This morning was starting to feel like a pendulum and it was doing your head in. You moved off his lap to try to lay back down  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you muttered, the exhaustion and hangover catching up to you. But Jude wasn’t ready to let it go. He sat up further shifting beneath you, his movement forcing you to adjust. You stayed where you were, awkwardly slipping to lie on his stomach, your body suddenly feeling too heavy, too cumbersome. You could sense his frustration, his own internal struggle with what he wanted to say versus what he knew he should say. The air was thick with unspoken words, with everything he couldn’t articulate but felt deeply. And then, without warning, his hand smoothed over your hair, a gentle gesture that contrasted with the tension in the room. He ran his fingers through your strands before slipping his hands under your arms, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. 

“Come here, please,” he said, his voice softer now, less commanding. He picked you up underneath your arms. He pulled you, cradling you against his chest, and kissed your forehead. The simple, tender act made your heart twist, even though the argument still hung heavy between you. Jude sighed, the sound heavy with frustration but also a sort of resignation. He held you tightly, his forehead resting against yours, and for a moment, the world felt smaller, quieter. “I know I’m being hypocritical,” he said softly, almost to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. There was a vulnerability in his voice that you weren’t used to, something that softened the edges of his frustration. You didn’t say anything, just raised a brow in question. His gaze dropped for a moment, and then he corrected himself, his words a little more measured this time. “I’m not trying to judge you. I love you because of who you are, angel. I love you so so much. You have no idea how much. But that doesn’t mean I have to like everything. I just—” He paused, struggling to find the right words, trying to avoid another misstep. His hand stroked your hair again, a grounding gesture, as if it was as much for him as it was for you. “I just can’t ever be okay with the idea of another man with you, I can’t be.” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know It might be irrational, but I can’t help it. And you’ll never convince me that it’s okay. You’re not for anyone else. Not like this. Not how you are with me.” You could almost hear the lump in his throat. You felt his chest rise and fall beneath you, his words hanging in the air. There was no easy answer, no quick fix to the discomfort that had been dredged up. You knew this wasn’t about logic or fairness—it was about feelings, raw and messy, the kind that couldn’t be reasoned away.  You stayed silent, not because you agreed or disagreed, but because there was nothing left to say. You understood where he was coming from, even if it frustrated you, even if it made you want to cry, even if it made you maybe, in a way, fall more in love with him, maybe that was just all okay. Jude kissed your forehead again, lingering this time, as if trying to reassure both of you. The moment wasn’t resolved, not completely, but for now, the tenderness between you both was enough to push the tension aside. You let yourself relax into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your hand. In the quiet, you both held on, knowing that love wasn’t always neat or easy, but it was still worth fighting for. In the quiet of the morning, you both stayed there, tangled together, not needing to say anything more for the moment. You’d figure it out, just like you always did. But for now, you rested in the safety of his arms, your world a little bit smaller, a little bit quieter.

Those reckless nights that Jude worried so much about had blurred together like neon lights through the backseat of a cab—each city a new playground where the rules bent to your will. In Paris, it was champagne-soaked evenings, stumbling through gilded doors of exclusive clubs with men whose names you’d forget by morning. London brought afterparties that stretched past dawn, in penthouses overlooking a city you never quite saw clearly, a haze of smoke and bass thrumming through your veins like lifeblood. New York had you draped over velvet ropes, your name at the top of every list, no price too steep, no bottle too extravagant as the night unfolded in a rhythm you could control. Money was never a concern—astronomical bills for VIP tables stacked high with magnums of Dom Pérignon, each receipt a quiet testament to nights you could barely remember, but that everyone else would talk about. There were yacht parties under Mediterranean skies with royals, laughter echoing over the water as you sipped expensive cocktails and listened to whispered secrets of lines in bathrooms you had no intention of keeping. The Grand Prix’s were whirlwinds of celebrities and luxury, where your dress shimmered under camera flashes, but it didn’t matter who was watching because you were the one writing the narrative. You called it fun, called it glamorous, and in moments, it was. It was the kind of sexy that dripped like honey off your lips as you laughed, knowing everyone wanted to be in your orbit, but the truth was, it was all smoke and mirrors. You could control the nights—the drinks, the men, the parties—but they couldn’t touch the fragile core of who you really were. That part of you stayed locked away, hidden beneath the surface, a delicate glass angel no one could break because you refused to let them see her. And so you lived recklessly, dancing on the edge of something dangerous, but always pulling back before it got too real. You’d stay out till five in the morning to then go to your pilates class by seven. You floated through those nights untouched, safe in the illusion you’d built, keeping the world at arm’s length. It was a way to feel everything and nothing all at once, to forget just long enough to make it through. But deep down, even as you laughed and spun through the chaos, you knew you were only hiding—preserving the part of yourself too delicate to be exposed to the world you moved through so effortlessly. Now you wish they would all just slip into the abyss accept one of your wildest evenings… the one where you had met Jude. 

You and Jude were curled up on the couch, legs intertwined under a shared blanket. The soft hum of the city far outside faded into the background as you reminisced, your head resting on Jude’s chest, his fingers absentmindedly running over your hair. You tilted your head up to look at him, eyes shining with a playful curiosity. You giggled softly, your mind drifting back to that night in Greece. The memory was warm and vivid, like the sun-kissed air from that trip. You shifted in Jude's arms, your laughter making him smile, his curious eyes asking what you were thinking about.

“Do you remember the night we met in Greece?” you asked, biting your lip, still amused by how it all began. Jude’s smile widened, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. 

“How could I forget? That might have the best dinner of my life,” he said, his eyes lighting up at the memory. He joined the dinner table at the small restaurant, said hello to Whitney and Trent, Marcel, and sat down far from you. You were flustered he even was there in the flesh. You knew the face well, crushed from afar and eventually knew him as your best friend's boyfriend’s friend and there he was playing it far too cool at the restaurant.

“I couldn’t believe you were there. I should’ve known. Whit didn’t say a word about you joining the trip,” you continued, your eyes meeting his as you recounted the story. Jude nodded, amused. 

“Yeah, subtly is not a strong suit of hers but she managed that one,” he teased, his hand gently squeezing your side. “She’s sweet though. I’m a great surprise to be fair.” He smirked. You laughed, recalling how it all unfolded. 

“I mean don’t be too cocky… You wouldn’t even say anything!” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “And don’t think I forgot about that awful attempt at a wink before Whit introduced us. I was ready to burst out laughing!” You joked. He giggled though now and then Jude groaned, shaking his head with a grin. 

“Yeah, okay, that wink was terrible. I panicked!” he admitted, laughing at himself. 

“It was cute though,” you reassured him, still smiling at the memory. “You didn’t introduce yourself, though which was rude. You just strolled in like you were some big deal.” You giggled. “Sat at the other end of the table trying to be cool.” You teased, raising an eyebrow sarcastically. You felt a warmth fill your chest recalling the dinner you met Jude for the first time at.  

“Yeah, but you knew I was keeping an eye on you,” he countered, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. 

“I know,” you said, eyes sparkling with mischief. You giggled, nudging him with your elbow. 

“I’d go as far as to say every man that saw you that night had eyes on you,” Jude added, his voice dropping, a mix of pride and possessiveness seeping into his words. Jude made it sound as if he had won a contest. To be fair… he did win you over. 

“They always do,” you responded nonchalantly, a small smile tugging at your lips and a bit of a smugness.

“Yeah,” Jude murmured, leaning closer, his lips brushing the top of your head, “but you are for me, baby.” He cooed.

“I always have been,” you whispered back, feeling the warmth of his words wrap around your heart. He tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, his expression suddenly serious, though his eyes danced with amusement. “You knew that from the jump, though. Be honest—did you think you had me?”

“Hook, line, and sinker.” Jude told you with a serious confident expression.

“Shut the fuck up! You were stumbling over words. It took you a whole dinner, and Whit’s introduction for you to even talk to me!” You scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Nah, I’m just joking, angel,” he laughed, pulling you closer, “but I liked that about you. You weren’t easy. You let me think I got to pass go but then I didn’t get to collect 200. It was like the most confusing addiction. I needed to finish the game.” Jude mumbled out a metaphor about how you had him interested from the jump. You laughed, leaning your forehead against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your skin.

 “Good,” you said, looking up at him, “I liked keeping you on your toes.”

“And I loved every second of it,” he whispered, his hand trailing down your back, settling around your waist. “Still do.”

“What was weird about that holiday though, it was like I could feel it all shift. It felt like the moon was pulling the tides differently—like something big was happening, even though we had just met. It’s strange. Like at the time, I wanted it to be maybe a fuck but… I guess the world had other plans.” You sighed with a smile.  Jude nodded, his expression softening as he looked at you. 

“I felt it too, angel. From that moment, I knew something was different and I knew I was trying to push it down but it did feel a little like we were meant to be in the same place, at the same time.” Jude cooed. You smiled, resting your head on his chest again, feeling the weight of those early moments between you. It was the start of something you hadn’t fully understood at the time, but now, looking back, it was clear how everything had been leading you to this.

“Guess we owe Whit a bit of thank you though. Love of my life, good sex and a holiday… what a girl.” You giggled. Jude held you tight to him but both of you went quiet for a minute. You both breathed a bit deeper the words ‘what a girl’ echoing in your head. Whitney was amazing. She was your best friend, she was a sister, a daughter, a mother, a fiance, an overall amazing person but there was one person who couldn’t see any of that… her. You’d met at uni and you’d never made a friend faster. She was everything you’d ever want and need in a best friend who then became like your sister. You were very different and very much so the same all at once.  

Semi recently, Whitney and Trent had a fight… sort of. It wasn’t even really a fight as much as it was a miscommunication, a bubbling over of Whitney’s past coming to the surface, the stress of her baby, a wedding, the pressure’s of being in the spotlight as the fiance of a famous footballer. You had gone back to New York the other week after your trip to Paris with Jude when Marcel had called you. To be honest, you almost didn’t answer considering you were now dating Jude and you were nervous why he was calling but in retrospect you were beyond thankful you did answer. He asked if you had heard from Whitney. You hadn’t. You hadn’t even heard about her and Trent’s tiff yet let alone that she was back in the country. So you hurried the fastest you possibly could up to her apartment, the urgency in Marcel’s voice made you incredibly nervous. Your worst fear fueling your speed. And as you sat in the back of that Uber, your leg impatiently bouncing, you recalled one of those rare weekends back in uni that made Marcel’s call all the more worrisome. 

It was a moment when the city slowed down just enough to escape, Whitney and you had gone to her parents’ beach house. The air there felt cleaner, lighter—a break from the rush of Manhattan life. But as quickly as it came, the weekend ended, and soon you were back in the city, back to reality, not knowing how heavy that reality would hit. A parasite of a boy Whitney had been seeing at the time, pre-Trent, had came over the night you returned. You opened the door, his cocky grin almost made you shut it in his face. He wasn’t good for her—he never had been—but Whitney was already in deep with him. He was handsome, and their chemistry was toxic in a way she couldn’t escape. He was a distraction, a bad habit Whitney couldn’t break. But then again, it wasn’t just him. It was everything—the cocktails of alcohol, expectations, her body dysmorphia, years and years of layered health issues and whatever else Whitney needed to numb herself to the world. And so the next morning, the silence in the apartment was eerie. Normally, you’d hear Whitney moving around, already planning the day ahead. But that day? Nothing. The pit in your stomach began to grow, but you tried to shake it off. She was probably just sleeping in, exhausted from the weekend. Still, something didn’t sit right. You walked down the hall to her room, the air thick with the staleness of last night’s decisions. Knocking softly, you called her name. No answer. Your pulse quickened. You pushed the door open. The sight that greeted you felt like a punch to the gut. There was Whitney, lying limply on her bed, a sickening mixture of vomit and bile coating the sheets. She was barely conscious, her skin pale, her breathing shallow. The drop in your stomach was immediate, a visceral, uncontrollable panic that tore through you.

“Whitney!” you screamed, rushing to her side. Your hands shook as you grabbed her, trying to shake her awake. Tears began streaming down your face, but she was barely responsive. “Whitney, wake up! Please!” You fumbled for your phone, tears blurring your vision as you scrolled to Winnie’s number, hitting call with trembling fingers. When Winnie picked up, the panic in your voice was undeniable. “Whitney’s—she’s—oh my God, she’s not waking up. She’s in her own—” you couldn’t finish the sentence. Winnie’s voice coming from the other side of the line but you couldn’t focus enough to make any of her words out as you sobbed, holding Whitney’s limp hand. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time someone had found Whitney like this. But it felt different this time. The weight of it, the helplessness. You couldn’t help but feel a mix of rage and heartbreak. Rage at Chase, rage at Whitney, but mostly, heartbreak for the situation you were all in. “She did it on purpose,” you whispered, the realization sinking in as you watched her chest rise and fall shallowly. It wasn’t about Chase, not really. It was never about him. This was Whitney’s way of coping, of controlling what little she could, even if it meant self-destruction. When the ambulance came, the room felt cold, sterile. They took her, again, and you were left there—helpless. It was a cycle. She’d be discharged soon enough, just like before, and everything would move on. Life would continue. But you stayed, frozen in that moment, feeling the weight of everything that had just happened.

And so as you unlocked the door to Whitney and Trent’s apartment in Manhattan and walked inside you were confused. The apartment was empty. It was quiet until you heard water moving in the bathroom. You found Whitney under the surface of the water of the tub, your figure blurred above the water beside it. You frenziedly reached into the full tub and yanked her out aggressively immediately wrapping her in your arms over the ledge. Her soaking wet naked body drenching your dry clothes. 

“Y/N, what the fuck is going on!?!?!” You screamed, starting to uncontrollably cry. You shook her shoulders trying to get her to come to and answer you. You were absolutely terrified and rightfully so. “Okay, okay. Jesus!” You ran your hands over your face in panic and shock. “You’re gonna be fine. I’ll… erm… I’ll call T.” You rattled off trying to think what to do. You knew that her upset over things with Trent was what this was about.  Not what Trent had done, but her response to her own being. You had rushed to her apartment without hesitation when Marcel called, finding her in a state that was all too familiar, but still just as devastating. She had relapsed, and it had shaken you to your core. After… it was a routine you didn’t want to know. You had gotten Whitney to sleep for a little. She hadn’t slept for days and so once you got her to you stepped to the other room for a moment to yourself. You reached for your phone, dialing Jude. He was the only person you wanted then and as unfortunate as the situation was… at least this time you had him.

And now, weeks later, Whitney was as fine as she could be. Safe back home with Trent. Her health couldn’t be fixed but managed. Something she’d continually work to upkeep, heal and improve and whilst you were beyond happy and relieved she was okay. Relieved she had Trent and her little girl, Teddy, to support her, love her,  it weighed heavily on you. The worry sat like an elephant on your chest as you curled up on the couch, staring blankly ahead. You hadn’t seen Whitney since her lowest, after that terrifying night in New York and now Jude was the only one that could give you any sort of peace. When you had called him after the incident, his voice was warm, comforting, but you could sense the concern in it. He had been so supportive when you first told him what happened, offering whatever reassurance he could, but now, the weight of it was still pressed down on you.

"Do you think she's okay?" you asked, your voice small, laden with the fear that had been gnawing at you. “I’m so worried.” You murmured. You didn’t expect Jude to have the extensive context, the depth you understood Whitney’s situation with but he was empathetic and he loved Whitney. This hurt him too. Jude sighed softly, the room going quiet for a moment before he answered. 

“I talked to Trent this morning,” he said, his voice steady, but you could hear the underlying tension. “He said she’s doing better. They’re taking it day by day.” Jude kissed your temple. You nodded, but it didn’t ease the knot in your stomach. 

“That’s good. I know it’s good but...” Your words trailed off as you stared at the ceiling, feeling the helplessness wash over you again. “It’s just... it’s not enough, you know? She’s been through this before, I told you,  and I—I don’t know what else to do.” You frowned. 

“I know, angel,” he said gently. “I know it’s hard. But you’ve done everything you can. You got her home. You got her safe.” Jude hummed softly, his attempt at finding the right words hanging in the air. “Trent’s got her.” He cooed. 

“But what if it happens again? What if... next time...” You sighed, wrapping your arms around your knees. Jude moved to hold you as you held yourself.  Jude’s voice softened even further, the concern he felt for both you and Whitney clear. 

“There won’t be a next time. And if things turn again we’ll deal with that if it comes. But you can’t carry all of this on your own, angel. Trent’s there. They’ll take care of her. Their family, doctors, she’s even got little Ted, it’s gonna be okay.” He sympathetically smiled. You bit your lip, feeling the tears prick at your eyes. You knew he was right it just hurt. God it hurt so bad. 

 “I know... but she’s my best friend, Jude. I just can’t shake this fear. I couldn’t do it without her. She can’t do that to me.” Jude sighed again, the sound a mix of empathy and frustration at the helplessness of the situation. 

“You’re her best friend too. You’ve been there for her when she needed you most. You’ve already done so much. Just keep being there, like you always have been. She needs you.” His words were meant to soothe, but the tightness in your chest remained. 

“Yeah... you’re right,” you whispered, though it didn’t feel like enough. The fear, the worry—it was still there, lingering. But you knew Jude was right. You had to trust that Whitney would get through this, and that you would be there for her, no matter what came next. You sat on the couch next to Jude, his arm resting along the back, fingers tracing gentle patterns over your shoulder. The soft hum of the city outside barely filtered through the thick curtains, but inside, the quiet between you was almost suffocating. Your thoughts swirled, your mind drifting back to Whitney, to her pain, and the weight of it pressed against your chest like a heavy stone. "Do you know why I like Whit?" you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The words seemed to carry more than just curiosity, a sort of fatigue and sadness wrapped around them. Jude looked at you, his expression softening. He knew you well enough by now to sense when something was really on your mind, and this was one of those moments. 

"I mean, I feel like..." he trailed off, half-smirking in his usual way, trying to lighten your mood with just a hint of teasing. Liking something about her seemed small when she was your best friend so Jude was just trying to be silly. But this wasn’t the moment for it. Not this time. You sighed deeply, your chest rising and falling as you searched for the right words. 

"No, I mean... she just..." You paused, rubbing your fingers together in a nervous motion. "She’s the kind of person who, even if she doesn’t agree with you, she’ll still stand by you like she does. She’s got your back every time. Like, she’ll fight for you even when she doesn’t completely understand your side. She’s so loyal, so supportive, and... sometimes, I worry I’m not being the friend she needs." You sighed in reflection.

"What do you mean, angel? You’re always there for her. You’re an amazing friend." Jude’s brow furrowed as he shifted closer to you, his arm slipping around your waist, pulling you gently against him as he reassured you.  You hesitated, staring ahead, feeling the lump form in your throat. 

“It’s just... I don’t know. Remember that glass you’ve talked about… That wall I’ve always told you about? It’s like... emotionally, I keep it up with her because I feel like I have to. She’s so supportive even if she doesn’t get it and I don’t feel like I’m doing that for her because I have to be the strong one. She’s so fragile. She’s scared, Jude, and when she’s scared, I feel like I can’t let myself break. But I’m scared too.” Your voice cracked a little, and you felt your heart race with the admission. “I’m scared for her, and it makes me so sad... but I feel like I can’t let her see that.” Jude was quiet for a moment, absorbing what you’d said. He shifted, turning so that he was facing you more directly, his thumb brushing your arm in slow, comforting strokes.

"Angel..." His voice was tender, and the way he said your nickname made your chest tighten in a different way. "You’re allowed to be both. Strong for her and scared for yourself. It’s a really difficult thing to manage. To validate both experiences.” He cooed gently. You blinked, your eyes meeting his, not entirely sure what he was getting at. He continued, his voice steady and reassuring. "If you want to be strong for her, that’s okay. You can keep that strength for Whit. But you don’t have to hold it together all the time. You don’t have to pretend like you’re invincible." You looked at him, feeling the burn of tears you hadn’t realized were building. Jude’s gaze was soft but serious as he kept speaking. "Whit can handle it if you tell her how you really feel, but I get it if you don’t want to… if you want to protect her like that. But just know... you don’t have to do that with me. You can be soft with me. You can let it all out, let go. I’ll take care of you." His words were a balm you hadn’t realized you needed. The tears that had been welling up in your eyes finally spilled over, and you looked down, feeling both relieved and ashamed at the same time. You had always had to be this wall of steel for everything no one ever told you to… let go.

"I just... I feel like I’m supposed to be the strong one. But it’s so hard, Jude. It’s so hard." He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you completely, holding you like he could absorb all of your sadness. “I know, baby. I know it is. But you don’t have to carry it alone.” You buried your face into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him, feeling the comfort of his arms around you, and for the first time in weeks, you let yourself be small. You let yourself lean on someone else. Jude’s hand moved gently through your hair, his touch slow and deliberate, like he knew you needed the time to feel safe enough to crumble, even just a little.

"I’ve got you," he whispered into your hair. "Always. You don’t have to be strong with me. I’ve got enough for both of us." You nodded against him, your tears soaking into his shirt, but he didn’t care. He just held you tighter, letting you release everything you’d been bottling up for so long. The worry, the fear for Whitney, the exhaustion of trying to be everyone’s rock when you felt like you were sinking yourself. And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you felt something shift. You felt lighter, like maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to be the one holding everything together all the time. Maybe, with Jude, you could let yourself be fragile and know that he would be there to catch you when you fell.

You were calling Whitney a lot since you had made sure she had gotten back to England safely. You wanted to check in, see if she was okay, see how little Teddy was but you’d still make Jude check with Trent for the truth of the matter. As much as you loved to know Teddy was obsessing over strawberries at the minute and Whitney just went on an unreal spree at Selfridges…You needed Trent; Trent to tell Jude, because he’d probably sugar coat to you because he knew how much it hurt you to hear if Whitney was struggling to get out of bed, but you needed to know if she was still having a hard time. But it had seemed as if she was doing good. It was getting better. She and Trent were getting married in the summer and in a way this felt like a restart for her. For you though, it felt like you were reliving the same hurt. It was still weighing on you what had happened because it wasn’t the first time. You were in a funk you couldn’t shake. 

You stood in the bathroom, leaning against the sink, lost in thought as you stared at your reflection. The sound of your phone still faintly lingered in the air from your last call with Whitney, and even though she said everything was fine—It was as if you were stuck in this loop, reliving the same pain, even though you knew she was healing. You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to move away the weight of the funk that had settled over you these last few days. It didn’t make sense—Whitney was moving forward, getting better, planning her wedding. This type of a fresh start for her. But for you, it still felt like the wounds were fresh, like you hadn’t healed at all from seeing her so broken, from seeing her from that very first time. Jude’s reflection appeared behind you in the mirror, his presence always grounding, always warm. You felt his arms snake around your waist, pulling you back into him as he kissed your neck softly. The weight of his touch, the comfort of his body against yours—it was like a reminder that you weren’t alone in this. 

"Come spend the day with me," he murmured into your ear, his voice soft but hopeful. 

"What? I don’t watch you run around in the grass enough?" You tilted your head back a little, a small smile creeping across your lips as you teased him.  Jude rolled his eyes but smiled too, kissing the side of your neck again. 

“Yeah, but this is different. I want you with me on the grass, not just watching.” He cooed. You giggled, the warmth of his embrace starting to melt away some of the heaviness that had been sitting on your chest. 

"Alright," you said softly, leaning into him.

"Okay." Jude turned you around, so you were facing him now, his hands firm yet gentle on your waist. He searched your face for a moment, his smile playful but his eyes serious, like he knew something was off even if you weren’t saying it. “You alright, angel?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You nodded, forcing the smile to stay on your face, but he could see right through you. 

"Yeah, just… I’ve been in my head about a lot lately." You sighed Jude’s hands moved up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

 "You don’t have to be in your head alone, you know. You can talk to me." You sighed once more, leaning your forehead against his chest, breathing him in, his scent so familiar and comforting. 

"I know. It’s just… Whitney’s feeling better, she’s good now. And I’m happy for her, I really am. But it still feels like I’m stuck in what happened. Like I’m the one who hasn’t moved on yet." Jude held you tighter, his chin resting on top of your head.

"You went through it too, though. Watching her like that, worrying about her. That’s heavy on you." He whispered. You nodded, eyes closing as you let yourself relax into him fully. 

"I know. I just wish I could shake this feeling." You muttered. Jude kissed the top of your head, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. 

"You will. It’ll take time, but you’ll feel better, I promise. I’ll try my best to help you feel better." You stayed like that for a while, just holding onto him, letting his words sink in. Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look down at you, his grin back in place, playful and warm. "But first, I’m gonna get you out of this house. We’ll go out on the pitch, sweat a little,  have some fun. You with me?" He smirked. 

"Yeah. I’m with you." You smiled back, this time a little more genuinely. “Always.” Your heart skipped a beat at your promise. And as you left the bathroom with him, hand in hand, you felt a little lighter, like maybe today was the first step toward pulling yourself out of the funk. Because with Jude, it was hard to feel stuck for too long.

The sun was high in the Spanish sky, casting a golden glow over the field where Jude had been pushing himself through an intense workout. You sat on a mat nearby, your body going through a series of lazy stretches, though they were more for show than any actual intention of working out. You loved watching him in this setting-shirt off, muscles flexing and glistening with sweat as he moved, every sinew in his body working hard. His focus was on the workout, but you caught the way his eyes would drift back to you between sets, a spark of something more primal in them every time. You couldn't help but smirk, knowing exactly what you were doing. Your stretches were anything but innocent— arching your back, bending forward just enough to give him a view of your ass in your tight workout shorts, or pulling your arm across your chest to “stretch” or really just press your tits together in a way that was blatantly teasing. The sexual tension between you both hung in the air like a thick cloud, heating things up more than the sun ever could. After his final set, Jude jogged over to you, his breath heavy from exertion but still managing to look effortlessly attractive. His sweaty body collapsed next to you on the grass, half clumsy in a way that only made him more endearing, and half composed like he knew exactly what effect he had on you. Normally, anyone drenched in sweat might make you wrinkle your nose, but with Jude, you only leaned into him, craving the closeness. His arm draped over you, pulling you against his damp chest, and you couldn't help but smile as you nestled into him. He kissed your cheek, the simple affection making your heart flutter as your legs tangled with his.

"So, you finally loose enough to join me for a run?" he teased, his lips brushing your ear in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Loose?" you echoed, turning your face toward him, your eyes gleaming mischievously. "No, baby. You of anyone know that I can be really tight." You grinned, the heat of the sun and the weight of his body against yours making you feel bold.  His grin widened, smug and knowing, as he looked at you with that mix of playfulness and hunger that always made your stomach flip.

"I do know that. I know that well," he said, his voice low, almost a growl, as his hand slid over your waist, pulling you even closer. He nuzzled your neck before placing a soft, lingering kiss just beneath your jawline. You closed your eyes for a second, enjoying the feel of him against you, the weight of his arm, the teasing press of his lips. Everything about the moment was charged-the sun, the grass, the quiet intimacy in a place that was only yours.

"You sure you don't want to work up a little more of a sweat?" he murmured against your skin, his voice full of suggestion, his hand now resting on your thigh, fingers drawing small circles that made your breath hitch. You tilted your head back to meet his gaze, biting your lip before letting a slow, seductive smile spread across your face.

“I could be convinced," you purred, and in that moment, it didn't matter whether you were on the grass, in the sun, or anywhere else in the world-as long as you were with him. The cheeky sexy moment shifted though. It was almost like the comfort he gave you made you more sad, because he gave you a space you could be. Jude kept his arms wrapped securely around your waist, his cheek resting comfortably against you as you leaned forward in a pretend stretch, your fingers barely grazing your toes. He could feel the weight of your mood lingering in the air. You were trying to put on a brave face, but the tension in your body gave you away. Without a word, Jude gently pulled you back up from your extension, turning you so he could look at your face, his eyes searching yours with quiet concern.

“Hey,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek. “You know you’ll see Whit soon, yeah? She’ll be at the England game, Supporting Trent. You’ll get to be with her then.”  He explained and you paused, the words hanging in the air awkwardly as you fidgeted with the hem of your workout top. 

"Well…" you began, your voice trailing off. A wave of guilt swept over you, making your throat tighten as you hesitated. Jude raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently for you to continue, but you could see the flicker of concern behind his calm demeanor. “I’ve been meaning to tell you,” you finally said, taking a deep breath, “I have to be at the gallery that week. There’s a big event I can’t miss. I won’t be able to make it to the match.” The words felt heavier as they left your mouth, and you could see the disappointment flash across his face, despite his best efforts to hide it. Jude's smile faltered slightly, the sadness clear in his eyes, but he nodded, trying to understand. 

“Oh,” he said quietly, his voice softer now. “Erm.. wow. I just… I really wanted you there. It’s our first game together, y’know? As… us.” He couldn’t hide the hurt and he couldn’t hide from Louis’s words nagging him about how your lives truly could never sync. Not only were you missing Jude’s match, he was missing something important of yours. The guilt gnawed at you. You could feel the weight of his words settling deep in your chest, and without thinking, you moved to hug him, burying your face in his neck, as if hiding could make the moment less painful. 

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled into his skin, your voice muffled and small. The ache of letting him down hit harder than you expected, and you felt your heart clench. Jude held you close, his lips pressing softly against your hair as he sighed, his arms tightening around you.

“It’s okay, angel,” he whispered, but you could feel the sadness in his voice, the way he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “I get it. Your work’s just as important. You don’t have to apologize.” The silence that followed was different from before, sad and thick with the reality you’d both been pushing aside. You didn’t live in Madrid. You didn’t live in the same city, and even though everything felt like home when you were with Jude, your life, your work, was back in New York. The truth settled between you like an invisible wall, and for the first time in a while, the distance between you felt very, very real. Jude kept holding you, his hand running soothingly up and down your back as if trying to keep you both grounded in the moment. But neither of you could shake the unspoken understanding that lingered: no matter how much you wanted to be here, with him, there was always something pulling you away.

After you and Jude return home after the intense emotional and physical session under the scorching sun. Your bodies glistened with sweat, a mixture of exertion and the sultry climate. Jude had pushed himself to his limits, but you had called it quits earlier than that, claiming your muscles were too tight to even start with what he was doing, although it was more of an innuendo. Little did you know, this was just the beginning of even more intense cardio —one that would leave you breathless in a whole different way. As you entered the cool confines of Jude’s room, his eyes smoldered with desire. He wasted no time, his hands already reaching for the hem of your tight workout top. With slow, deliberate movements, he peeled the mildly damp fabric over your head, exposing your perfect tits. Your nipples, already hardened from the workout and Jude's hungry gaze, begging for attention.

"You know, angel," Jude whispers, his voice husky with want, "I think I need to stretch you out properly. Earlier, you said you were too tight, and I can't have that." His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you knew exactly what kind of stretching he had in mind. 

"Oh, yeah? And how do you plan to do that?" You giggled playfully, a mix of anticipation and nervousness fluttering in your stomach. In response, Jude lifted you effortlessly, carrying you towards the ensuite bathroom. With each step, his grip on your bare waist sent sparks of excitement through your body. He kicked the bathroom door shut behind him, the sound echoing through the spacious room. Jude set you down on the marble bench, the cool surface contrasting with your heated skin. He quickly turned the shower on, steam beginning to fill the air and then stepped under the cascading water, his muscular body glistening in the steamy atmosphere.

"C’mere right now baby," he growled, his eyes dark with desire. You wasted no time, stepping into the shower, feeling the hot water caressing your skin. Jude's hands on you instantly, cupping your tits and teasing your sensitive nipples. He lowered his head, his tongue tracing circles around them, sending electric shock waves of pleasure through your body. You leaned back, bracing yourself against the wall as Jude's mouth traveled down your stomach, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles in his wake. He reached your throbbing core, and without hesitation, he parted your folds with his tongue, delving deep into your wetness. You gasped, the hot water mixing with your moans as Jude ate you with unhurried, deliberate strokes. Your hands gripped the shower wall, fingers digging into the grout as you struggled to maintain your balance. Jude's skilled tongue worked its magic, flicking and circling your clit, driving you to the edge of ecstasy. You could feel your orgasm building, a tidal wave of pleasure ready to crash over you. Just as you were about to climax, Jude stopped, leaving you teetering on the precipice. 

"Not yet, angel," he breathed, his voice heavy with lust. He lifted you as you wrapping your legs around his waist. Your back pressing against the cold tile wall, offering a delicious contrast to the heat between your bodies and the water. Jude dragged the tip of his throbbing hard cock through your folds before entering you in one swift motion, filling you completely. He rolled his hips into you and his cock pressed deeper into hitting a spot only he knew. When he found the perfect rhythm you could feel the knot in your stomach tightening. He sucked and nibbled onto your sensitive neck and you could feel your high rapidly approaching.  He began to thrust, his movements rough and primal, driven by the desire that had been building since the moment back on the pitch. He had you pressed up against the cold shower tiles as the warm water cascaded down your naked bodies. Your head fell back, and you bite your lip to stifle the moans that threatened to escape. Jude's hands gripped your hips, leaving imprints on your skin as he slammed into you again and again. The sound of skin slapping against skin filling the shower, mingling with the hiss of the water.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Jude grunts, his breath hot against your neck. "I love when you're so tight for me." Your legs tightened around his waist more, your heel dragging down his muscular wet back, pulling him deeper into you. You couldn't hold back anymore. Jude could barely focus, you felt so good. You could barely speak from how good he felt. Your stomach tightened and your walls fluttered as you came, squirting a little. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Jude, I’m cumming. Shit baby, you feel so good, oh my god.” With a cry of pleasure, you climaxed, your walls clenching around Jude's throbbing cock. Your head collapsed from the wall down onto his shoulder as he relentlessly continued to pound into you as you rode out your high. 

"You take me so well, fuck, you're making such a mess, baby.” And you were. Jude hissed as his cock twitched in you feeling how messy you were. He swiftly followed you, his own release spilling deep within you as he filled you. “Be a good girl and take it for me. I’m cumming angel.” He moaned, pressing you further into the shower wall as your pussy clenched tighter around him. He emptied his load inside you as you both breathed heavily. Breathless and spent, Jude lowered you gently, your legs trembling as you slid down the wall. He set you on your feet and you clung to him as the warm water continued to fall. The shower steam encircled you as he rubbed his hands with soap over your body, beginning to actually shower now. You liked his hands on you like this, you liked him in the shower with you like this. There was a physical and emotional feeling of warmth with him. He just wanted to wrap around you and keep you with him all the time. He was completely consumed by the thought. You watched him stare blankly as if in  a blissful haze completely sure that there couldn’t possibly be anything better than this right here.. You smiled at his face and traced your finger down his sharp jawline. You were both so in love. You got through the shower slowly and not without some suggestive touches but eventually Jude reached around you and turned the water off. The sudden silence emphasizing your heavy breathing. He didn’t move yet, he just held you close against his chest. The water continued dripping down your bodies. Droplets racing along your skin. You couldn’t be but you wanted to be closer somehow to him. You got out and the air conditioned chill was a sharp contrast but it didn’t last long because Jude readily wrapped you in a warm, fluffy towel, draping his arms over you as he stood behind you engulfing you in it. He stared at you two in the fogged mirror for a moment before whisking you out of the bathroom, his strong arms supporting you. He sat you down on the bed, your body still tingling from the intense encounter. With gentle hands, he dried your skin, his touch sending aftershocks of pleasure through your nerves. He knelt before you, taking each of your feet in his hands, massaging them with a soft, scented lotion. His fingers work their way up your legs, leaving a trail of moisture and warmth over your whole body.

"You're so beautiful," Jude murmurs, his eyes filled with adoration. "I love every fucking inch of you." He murmured as he leant forward, his lips brushing against yours, and you taste the lingering flavor of your desire on his tongue. His hands continue to glide over your body, moisturizing your skin and leaving you feeling pampered and cherished. "I love you, Y/N," Jude whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. You smiled, your heart overflowing with love and desire. 

"I love you too, Jude," you replied, pulling him close for a deep, passionate kiss. And so as the afternoon sun streamed through the bedroom, you and Jude lied entwined for a little while, your bodies still glistening with the remnants of passion, a fresh shower, and lotion.

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

Next part - Chapter 18 - Long Distance xx

[drsbutmakeitspicy]

Have some more of (Am I a human Chair Universe) Part I ; Part II

(If you find any mistakes I’m sorry, English is not my first language but I swear I’m fluent in it! I’m just a bit tired 😩)

This happens right after the last part, go check it for more context.

Also kinda 17+ rated? Nothing too much tho.

“We should go get some desert and go to your room.”

Oscar says while running his hands through Carlos back, caressing him while Carlos tries to fix Oscar’s hair, he always leave it a mess when they made out.

“Maybe we should go out, no?” Carlos ask, hand now caressing Oscar’s jaw his other hand tries to push Oscars chin up. The Aussie already knows Carlos want to kiss the freckles on his neck.

 “We just had dinner, why go out?” Oscar pushes him away before his lips can touch his neck. He stares at Carlos confused “Don’t we have breakfast and golf with your cousins tomorrow morning? We really should just stay in and sleep.”

He sees the way Carlos  eyebrowns narrow for a second and he watches as it changes “Oh! You mean we go to my room to sleep, yes?”

“Of course I meant sleep, what were-...NO! No no no!!” He feels his face burn “God last time was already traumatic enough for me.”

His hands now on his face, covering his eyes, trying not to remember about Reyes, Sainz Sr and Blanca walking in on them making out in the hammock set outside by the pool. Carlos was quick to pull him close, hiding Oscars face on his neck while also distracting his family, asking something in spanish. Oscar could only pray they wouldn’t want to talk him or anything right now and also that they didnt see how his hand was squeezing Carlos’ cock through his pants when they walked in. God what a nightmare.

“Thats why I suggested to go out.” Oscar can hear it on his voice, Carlos has a big smile on his face. “Stop doing that, you’re gonna hurt your eyes. Look at me I have a question for you.”

Carlos  grabs both his wrist, gently taking his hands away from his face, searching for Oscar’s eyes “It is an important question.”

He let go of his wrists and runs his fingers on his own hair, a habit that appears when he feels nervous or embarrassed.

“Yea?” Seen a shy Carlos always makes his heart skip a beat. “Cmon, shoot.” Oscar is looking straight in his eyes.

“About petnames, you like them no?”

“I do.”

“Can I? Uh, can I also give you one?”

“Yea.”

“ Can I call you Amor?”

Oh Oscars hands moves on its own as he grabs Carlos shirt closing the gap between their chest.

“Can you say that again?”

“Mi Amor”

Oscar pulls him in for a kiss, a slow and deep one. He thought the petname would be something stupid like 'Sloth', as Carlos always joke about and not just Carlos calling him ‘love’ almost like he is ofering his heart and soul to him. Carlos kissed him back but was also the first to pull away “We need to go back there-“

“Shit, your parents probably think we are getting up to something here.”

Carlos get a hold of his hand, smiling while pulling him to the dining room. “Cmon, I really want some tiramisu.”

And Oscar’s follow.

The light in the room is dimmed, there is a song playing in the background and Carlos parents are slow dancing in the middle of the huge dinning room, looking at eachothers eyes living in their own world, their plates forgotten on the table.

As Oscar turn to say something funny to the other he gets surprised to  see how Carlos eyes are following his parents as they dance in circles, a found smile on his face. The only thing Oscar can think while watching the scene is I wouldn’t mind growing old with you like this.

Carlos pulls his hand to his lips “Would you like to join them? Would you dance with me, Amor?”

“Yes” Oscar replies already putting his free arm around Carlos waist.

 ‘I think I love you’. — They both think, but won’t say it yet.

[irlplasticlamb]

some hotd succession au headcanons… i beg…

so! none of the hotd characters in this u are 1-1 equivalent to the succession ones, more of amalgamations of certain character traits/plot points/tropes hahah

— aegon ii is majorly roman coded ofc as in: terrible sense of humour, NO moral backbone, sex issues, daddy issues, mummy issues, issues in general, he doesn’t want to be the ceo, he just desperately wants daddy to be proud of him. he’s also kendall coded as in suicidal, with massive addiction problems, in and out of rehab constantly. but also a little bit of connor coded as in “i am the (eldest) first son. i AM the first son and i’m not considered”. a failure tbh, he lashes out a lot because he wants people to pay attention to him (LOOSEEEER). his relationship with alicent is a bit similar to kendall’s with caroline, aegon wants that deeper connection but it’s very hard for both of them to communicate. his relationship with larys is very romegerri coded.

for miscellaneous, aegon’s an annoying microinfluencer who gets cancelled every other week. he can’t dress for shit. sunfyre is his gigantic dog who drools EVERYWHERE. he’s a bit trans fem in the „i’m probably trans but i have a company to take over so can’t think of that rn” way.

— rhaenyra is majorly kendall coded as in: groomed to be the ceo and promised the position since she was a child, which OF COURSE messed her up a little (a lot). if she doesn’t end up the ceo then who is she? suddenly her position is compromised after the targtowers are born and she’s majorly FUCKED. she loves her siblings somewhat but she resents them for existing at the same time. rhae’s also shiv coded because she’s a woman in power (but not ENOUGH power) and she’s privileged enough to ignore feminism unless it is in her advantage. a little bit naomi pierce coded but her „scandalous” past is based in many messy romances and kids out of wedlock.

for miscellaneous, she’s a part time model, a very fussy eater and a passenger princess. she’s also a bit trans masc in the „i’m probably trans but i have a company to take over so can’t think of that rn” way.

— alicent is A BIT stewy coded in context of rhaenyra because they were inseparable homoerotic coke snoring (yeah, her religious conservatism happens later in this story as a coping mechanism) best friends slash lovers in high school, until she got forced by otto and groomed by viserys to marry him. yeah, the terrible age gap is still there and she has aegon when she’s seventeen* because i feel like early motherhood is a very important part of who alicent is and becomes. she’s miserable as always. she’s also marcia coded in the “you’ve been careless of me” way, she tries very hard at the beginning to be a perfect little wife and mother. it eventually breaks her.

for miscellaneous, she used to be a model, HATED it. wanted to become a writer but it never came to fruition because of how quickly she got married. she’s a good cook but rarely gets to cook anymore.

** the rough timeline is: she has aegon at 17, helaena at 18, aemond at 20 and daeron at 22. aegon is 32 in this au, hela is 31, aemond is 29 and daeron is 27. alicent is 49, viserys is 70, rhae is actually 47 because i want to close the gap between her and the targtowers at least a little bit. rhaenyra and alicent still went to the same class together because rhae started school 2 years later than she „should’ve”, let’s just say viserys didn’t want his little girl out of the house as quickly because he was so shaken after losing aemma, or they went travelling when she was a kid and that put her two years behind, or smth. idc!

— aemond is uhhh a mix of everything. “i AM THE ELDEST BOY” kendall coded, spit and desperation everywhere, because i think in this au his reliability and skills would get somewhat recognised by viserys and by the company, and it would GET IN HIS HEAD HARD. he’s definitely the parentified son like connor. but he is not the eldest boy. he’s the fucking fourth kid. he knows, not matter his skills, his diligence, his discipline, the position will never be his. he kills a kid like ken (rip lucerys drowning in a nasty ass body of water once again). shiv coded because of his cunty ass bob. roman coded because of possible ed issues (actually i think all of them struggle with food and body image to certain degree because that „summer of competitive eating disorders” line in the succession script book never left my head ever).

for miscellaneous, he’s a part time actor, he trained ballet for a while and loved it but was very quickly forced to switch to fencing and shooting lessons. he makes a mean cup of coffee and refuses to ever buy it. has a minor coke problem but is VERY good at hiding it.

— helaena is a hard one. a bit willa coded when it comes to her love for arts and creative expression. a bit connor coded as in secluded, living on a ranch, not partaking in the business side of the family unless necessary. she sees the unnecessary pain this fight for the ceo position brings to her siblings and wants nothing to do with it. alicent tries very hard to include her, quite forcefully at times but it never works for long, so she’s mostly left to her own devices. helaena probablymhzs the best relationship with rhaenyra out of all the siblings because rhae doesn’t see her as a threat.

for miscellaneous, she trained ballet with aemond, then switched to gymnastics. now very into pilates and yoga. she makes her own wine and jam, has an extensive herb garden and is a little insane about naturopathic medicine.

— daeron is kinda stewy-ish? he’s good with business, he knows his stuff and he usually makes VERY good choices but he doesn’t take it as seriously as his siblings. then again, because daeron’s the youngest, he doesn’t get to make a lot of big decisions anyways. that takes a lot of pressure of his shoulders! he’s also stewy level of loyal, „i’m team aegon baby!” even though he knows how messed up his older brother is about this whole business stuff.

for miscellaneous, he’s VERY into street racing. that gives alicent a gigantic headache. he’s allergic to cats but owns one anyways. never cooked in his life.

[starjoe]

SPOILERS FOR II EP 17!!

“I miss my wife tails”

GOD THIS SCENE KILLED ME.

THE WAY PAINTBRUSH WAS CRYYYINNGG

oh my god :0(

(let’s not talk about how bad I messed up the bg.)

[lampyoil]

ii 17 spoilers AGAIN AGAIN im gonna be yapping a lot

Ok WHOEVER on Animationepic decided to WRITE THEIR WEAKNESSES/BAD QUALITIES ON THEIR DEAD BODIES JUST KNOW I AM RAPIDLY APPROACHING YOUR DESTINATION.

i cannot beLIEVE WHAT I AM SEEING

UNSERIOUS FOR CHEESY FUCK DUDE

his whole life was literally a joke. like.. he was named cheesy because he made shitty cheesy jokes and his entire purpose was to be annoying and unfunny but also unable to fully get it

like.. literally his whole purpose was to be a joke. One that Mephone obviously didnt even like considering he was happy when Cheesy was voted out (Not blaming Mephone but it sucks)

cheesy just genuinely wanted people to be happy and to laugh but instead he was hated by his team for being annoying for the majority of his life considering he was made JUST for the show.

Im glad atleast in his final moments he was friends with people but even that was short lived because he died for no good reason other than cobs’ messed up ideas. it sucks so hard

im very emotional over cheesy especially because even before i was in the fandom and i just got a few edits of ii here and there, i was already a fan of cheesy. id doodle him before i even knew anything about him just from small info i learned through edits! he was the REASON i even got into object shows in the first place, seeing him die in such a quick way where he was obviously scared and then to have him drawn on after he literally DIED just.. sucks. im probably being way to emotional over this all but in my defense ive obsessed over this guy for the last like.. four or so years

if you excuse me i have to go make a shitty au where everyone comes back and is happy and joyful and cobs dies in a fire

[latibvles]

points on a map.

this is... [loud kazoo] rather late but oh well! better late than never. related to this piece, this next one is plucking from the prompt crew and, as you can expect: is an introduction to the rest of Viv and Willie's crew! It was fun to write though, so I hope you enjoy it (will these make it onto ao3? maybe. no it is not proofread, sue me) Meet Inez Eckley, our very lovely navigator. All of these OCs will be on the carrd very soon!

—

It takes ten people to fly a B-17.

Not ten men, or ten boys — ten people. That was it. Really early on there used to be a joke, the setup was always the same: how many girls does it take to fly a plane? To no one’s surprise: Inez never found it funny, no matter how many times the punchline changed. It takes ten of me just like it takes ten of you.

She’d never said that, never had much of the courage to open her mouth about it. Luckily, the other navigators she knew either didn’t have the same sentiments or just kept them to themselves — Inez optimistically hopes for the second.

i.

“So we’re just… puttin’ pins in it?” Inez asks, turning to Croz and Bubbles. Croz nods, gives her a bit of a sheepish smile and Inez tries not to squint at the now blurry map in front of her — her glasses feeling like a cross where they hide under her jacket beneath her shirt.

“Pretty much. It’s a tradition.” He affirms.

“Gotta know where everyone’s from.” Bubbles tacks on immediately after — his smile is a little brighter. It doesn’t surprise her: Inez is fairly certain Bubbles was the one who was gonna run around and shoving red thumb tacks in people’s faces. Inez nods once, slow and pensive, before reaching for one of them.

“Ladies first, then?” She wants it to be a statement — but she can’t help but ask. As if they’d have her set up the map on the wall for a boys only activity.

She catches a glimpse of Harrie Morgan over in the corner, trying to nudge one of the guys out of the way so she could listen to the fight on the radio, and assumes that her worry isn’t a crazy assumption to make.

“So y’don’t forget about us,” Inez tacks it on at the end, a bit sheepish, fixing her gaze now on the plastic between her fingers. When she looks back up — Bubbles is still smiling brightly.

“Sure thing. You can do the honors.” He encourages, and that much makes her smile a little bit as she nods once to herself then takes a couple steps forward. She squints a bit, trying to will the text into becoming more solid, trying to recall the maps she’d pour over during practice missions over the States. Inez hesitates a moment, settles on the spot and hopes that she’s hit her target. Turning her head, Bubbles and Crosby are both looking over at where she’s placed it.

“Nashville, huh? That makes us neighbors,” Bubbles puts his own above hers. “Louisville.”

“Guess you’ll have to visit then. We’ll make a day out of it. Hit all the real touristy spots.” Inez offers. There’s a vision there that has her smiling to herself — one where her mother overfeeds them because they’re “too skinny to be Army,” and Croz, polite as ever, doesn’t know how to say no to her. “You too, Bing. And it’s your turn.” Crosby seems to perk up a little bit, takes his pin and tacks it right onto Iowa. Bubbles chuckles to himself, arms crossing over his chest.

“Yeah, you gotta visit. Th’hell’s back in Iowa.” He teases, and Inez can’t help the quiet laugh that escapes her. By the time they got back from this, Iowa would have Mrs. Jean Crosby again, who’s letter was probably sitting comfortably in Croz’s jacket pocket right about now.

“Don’t get him started, we’ll be here all day.”

ii.

Harriet Morgan, their ball gunner, has successfully stolen the seat closest to the radio. Carrie Hughes, one of their waist gunners, is standing awkwardly to her left when Inez tracks them down. Harrie’s leant forward on her elbows, the guy next to her, Roy Clayton, gives her a questioning look, expression twisted into one of mild annoyance as Amison messes with the knobs of the radio.

“You even got money on this, Morgan?”

“No, but ma’ pa might!” The expression on her face is bright, and she flashes him a sunny-side up grin — all crooked teeth and crinkled eyes. Carrie says nothing, but her cheeks flush in that mildly embarrassed way that they always do when Harrie’s garnering a bit of attention for herself. Sometimes, Inez is marveled by the fact that Carrie continues to follow her around in spite of her own introversion — but the world was full of mysteries and Inez figured this one would just have to go unsolved.

Harrie, as usual, is none the wiser.

Inez clears her throat on her approach, drops a hand on Carrie’s shoulder to squeeze it and give her a half-smile.

“Got a second to spare? Wouldn’t want you losin’ your seat, after all,” Harrie’s grin turns a little mischievous, and she waves her hand flippantly as she jumps up to her feet.

“Roy gon’ watch ma seat for me, ain’t that right?” Roy makes a face, a mix of shock and protest that falters almost immediately upon Harrie holding his stare for another second or two. Harrie claps him on the shoulder. “‘Preciate it, pal,” before clapping her hands together and jumping up to her feet. Inez thinks she hears Carrie mutter a sorry Roy under her breath. Inez can’t help the small laugh that leaves her as she guides the two of them towards the map.

“Shouldn’t take more than a minute.” Inez offers, but Harrie whizzes by her like a dog catching a scent, sidling up immediately at the work-in-progress amalgamation of push-pins.

“Well what’s all this then?” Her question is as bright as the rest of her and Inez only wonders momentarily how it is that she can treat every minor occurrence as though she’d just found a winning lottery ticket. Carrie’s interest, although more subdued, is still piqued — Inez can tell by the way those big brown eyes of hers light up in curiosity. June had made a couple jokes about the girl being the baby deer of the group: the nineteen-year-old was really living up to it now.

“Croz and Bubbles say it’s a tradition. Gotta put a pin where everybody in the group’s from.” Carrie tilts her head, brows furrowed — although Harrie wastes no time in taking one from the table and smacking it onto the map. Somewhere South, but that part was obvious.

“We get to…” Carrie’s voice trails off, but Inez knows how that question was going to finish, so she nods.

“All thirty of us. I went first,” That makes Carrie smile, and Inez pats her back before gently pushing her towards the map, before sidling up on its opposing side to squint at where Harrie found her mark. Montgomery, Alabama. Carrie, however, is more subdued about it — she simply points and voices it, as opposed to doing it herself.

“Denver,” Carrie offers and Bubbles puts the pin in.

“Ever been to the Rockies?” He asks with a bit of a tease. Carrie lets out a small huff.

“Do I look like a mountain climber to you, sir?” And now it’s Inez’s turn to snort at the barely there bite of Carrie’s remark — one that has Harrie laughing loud and unapologetic. Silently, Inez just hopes Carrie keeps sharpening that edge of hers’ until it gleams, if only for her own sake.

iii.

Inez knows that when their radio op smiles at her and promises she just needs to finish up this last game, that it is the beginning of a doom-coming.

Not for Fern, of course. Never for Fern — Inez was fairly sure she could talk Eisenhower himself into giving her a brand new fort for free. The doom-coming being for the wallet of whoever Fern has successfully deceived into thinking she was actually bad at darts: this time, it seems to be Quinn and Blakely — Hinton being her newfound accomplice. Inez doesn’t know how they haven’t been made aware of Fern’s goal to sucker at least half the 100th before they reach England, but that’s none of her business.

“No shame in callin’ it quits now, Carmine. I’ll even halve the winnings for ya,” Bailey drawls, and Fern scoffs lightheartedly. She puts her hands on her hips, cocking a brow and tucking a loose strand of shiny auburn hair behind her ear. There’s a slight pout to her lips. Hook, line…

“Don’t tell me you’re calling me a quitter, Bailey. Matter of fact, I hit this double eight and we double it. Two bucks each.”

Sinker. Quinn looks reluctant, but Bailey agrees — so they all cough up another bill to make it eight on the table. Fern takes her last dart and passes Hinton one of those award-winning smiles of hers, and Inez is reminded briefly of how they had her posing up by the plane for pictures back in Sioux City. And how a passing remark about how she should’ve been painted on the plane, not flying ‘em had earned the offender a fist to the teeth from June.

She lines up the shot, takes in a deep breath and then…

“Boop!” Fern declares as the dart finds its target, to the collective groaning of both Quinn and Bailey. “Thaaank you! And thank you!” She swipes the cash from the table, hands four to Hinton and then pockets the other four, before turning to Inez. “Heard something about a map, is that it?” Fern is looping their arms, her cheek brushing against the side of Inez’s head.

“Four whole dollars. You’re really stretchin’ that Mouse Hole piggy bank,” Inez remarks, and it makes Fern laugh a little with a shake of her head.

“Once we hit England it’ll burst all on its own,” She declares, definitively, then listens intently as Inez explains exactly what it was they were doing. The map’s got a few more pins — from Brady and Blakely and their crews. By the time they hit it, Fern’s already opening her mouth and unlooping their arms, pointing at the spot on the map in one fluid motion. “Racine, Wisconsin, boys, riiiiight there.”

iv.

Josephine Alden was always good at not taking up too much room — with Lorraine next to her, they would have the quietest corner of the bar were it not for Lena Connolly filling it with her own storytelling of tales from home. Jo seems more intent to listen than Lorraine, who’s eyes have fallen decidedly further down the bar, towards some back-and-forth occurring between June and Douglass. For a moment, Inez idles behind Lena, trying to figure out the best way to worm herself in.

Noticing this, Josephine gives her one of those warm and acknowledging smiles of hers.

“Did you need something, Inez?” she asks, shifting the attention towards her. Well, Lena’s attention at least. Lorraine still seems preoccupied.

Inez smiles, rubs the nape of her neck.

“Bubbles, Croz, and I are wranglin’ people to tell us where they’re from. Keep track of location and stuff. There’s a map for people to put pins in their hometown. I just wanted to make sure we all got ours,” she explains, looking over the three of them. Lena nods slowly, and Josephine is already straightening out to get up and head over.

Lorraine’s lips tug into a frown, dark eyes flitting from her back to the scene she was watching unfold in front of her.

“Do I have to?” And, despite knowing her, the question still manages to knock some of the wind out of Inez all the same. It’s not posed with a whine, but that sort of indifference that she takes towards most things that didn’t pique her immediate interest. Inez has shared a bunkhouse with the woman for the better part of a full year, but sometimes she still has to remind herself that it’s rarely ever personal; that it’s just Lorraine. Slow to convince, slow to bite down on anything without an incentive.

Sensing Inez’s own faltering, Lena taps in — a clap on Lorraine’s shoulder and a smile up at her.

“Haven’t seen Pasadena Nena touch down yet,” she casts a look to Josephine sliding off the bar stool, “Or Sparky.” Josephine perks up, an animated full-body thing so unlike her typical reservations that it even catches Inez offguard.

“That’d make us first, wouldn’t it?” Josephine points out. “First of the girls, at least,” She looks to Inez for confirmation, and it dawns on her all at once — so she nods almost too quickly in confirmation.

“Uh huh. Croz and Bubbles even let me put the first pin in it,” Inez admits. Lorraine’s brows raise just enough for her to notice, and there’s a twitch of Lena’s lip in knowing they’ve thoroughly incentivized her into something else.

Lorraine Ivanova didn’t care for much — but she did like to be first to things.

“Alright,” she assents, and Inez smiles a little more genuine, guiding the trio back towards the map. Josephine lets the other two walk in front of her, whipping around to raise her hand in greeting. Inez looks back to see who it is — only to realize all at once that she doesn’t know who it is that Josephine’s waving to. A member of Brady’s crew, maybe. By the time Inez is turning back around, Lorraine is taking one of the push pins to jam into the map wordlessly.

“Brooklyn,” Josephine murmurs quietly to Inez, as Lena mimics it, her own pin nearly on top of Lorraine’s. “And the Bronx.” She knew the two were from New York — but the differences between all those little neighborhoods made her head spin on a better day. Inez gives Josephine an appreciative smile that the girl returns, patting the spot between Inez’s shoulder blades before stepping towards the map and pointing.

“New Englander, huh?” Bubbles points out as Croz presses the pin into its spot.

“Same as Crank,” She nods, stepping back, before giving Inez a curious look. “Did you get Juney yet?”

v.

She had not, in fact, gotten Juney yet.

And their bombardier looked like she was about to bite Howard Hamilton’s head off — but Hambone just looked amused with his ability to successfully get a rise out of her. To be entirely fair, it wasn’t hard. And it also wasn’t worth the smack in the mouth he’d be getting if he kept poking her as though she were a sleeping bear; Inez walks a little quicker, Josephine keeping step. Douglass, who’d also been participating in the conversation, catches them first with that pearly-white smile of his.

“Ladies,” it’s an easy greeting, and Inez fixes him with a nod.

June Cielinski looks back at them now, blue eyes lit up, argument on her tongue and jaw clenched. She fixes her gaze on Inez and Inez feels her stomach drop almost instinctually. She’s like a horse being wrangled straight into a pen she wants no part of, because whatever conversation that was just transpiring would be far too much for her to keep up with.

“Eckley, would you tell Hamilton that—”

“We need you for somethin’,” Inez blurts abruptly. She then fixes her look back to the two men behind her and lets out a soft puff of breath. “I’m borrowin’ her.” Josephine slides seamlessly into the conversation with a heard you had a rough landing! that’s laced with all the concern of a mother checking on her kids after a long school day. June, however, is muttering what Inez can only assume are obscenities under her breath. Inez doesn’t speak a lick of polish — her cheeks flush anyway.

“What was that all about?” Inez asks after a moment, and June scoffs.

“Dougie wants to make a pass at Fern so I told him to piss off about it. Hamilton thought it was pretty funny,” June seethes, and Inez knows her immediate piece of advice wouldn’t be much help. Don’t feed into it was like asking June to hold her breath for an entire flight exercise.

She also knows it was less about the prospect of Douglass and Fern, of all people, and more about what lies beneath it — the principle of it. They’d all been sat down and had the fraternization policy nailed into their skulls. Inez figures that it’s hard to take a rule seriously when you’ve never seen the consequences of breaking it. So the guys found it funny, even if, like most things, the consequences felt very, very real for the woman. And most girls understood how words could be dangerous in a way that guys didn’t.

June was always going to be the first one to bat for them. That’s just how it was.

“Should only take a minute, then you can go back to uh… fightin’ the good fight, I guess,” June snorts, unapologetic in the way she rolls her eyes, but Inez knows it isn’t malicious. Her lips curl on something between a smirk and a smile and her physical being seems to loosen up a bit more. That makes Inez relax a bit, letting out a soft breath as they reach the map. “They’ve just gotta know where you’re from. Put a pin in it.” June’s lips pull into a small pout, a nod of understanding.

“Hope you boys don’t need me to point you in the direction of Chicago,” She raises a brow at the two other navigators. Bubbles just laughs, but Croz seems to flush a bit — meek in the presence of June’s sharp remarks as he goes to put the pin in its place.

vi.

“You get lost or something, Cleven?”

It’s never been hard to find her pilot, Captain Savorre’s made a spot for herself by the door just as Major Cleven comes in with a gust of wind. Inez watches Cleven take Savorre’s hand and shake it, and they give each other a smile — Cleven’s is barely perceptible, Savorre’s is mostly teeth. Whatever Cleven says in response, Inez doesn’t pick up on, but Savorre turns her head and Inez follows it.

Inez doesn’t get how she didn’t notice that the horn above the mantle was split in two. Savorre says something else Inez can’t hear, and claps him on the shoulder twice before he walks past. The two of them look like something out of the movies they’d play on base, if she was being completely honest with herself. Tall, confident, attractive. Cleven presses forward, nodding towards those who catch his eye, greeting those he knows.

She didn’t know the commander of the 350th well, but the general consensus of her and most of the girls was that he was quite alright. Harrie had gushed about how pretty his girlfriend was when they saw her once at the bar — all Veronica Lake waves and friendly smiles. Inez was too shy to talk to her then. Still, Captain Savorre and Lieutenant Neumann seemed to like him well enough — that was as much of an assurance as any. Sometimes it was hard to discern who their allies were in a group of hundreds of people.

Inez presses forward once she realizes Savorre is no longer preoccupied, clearing her throat as she approaches.

“Captain?” Savorre’s face lights up in another smile.

“Eckley.” Inez looks to the left, to Buck over by the map, then clears her throat.

“Me and uh… the other navigators were just gettin’ everyone to put a pin where they’re from up on the board. I pretty much got everybody but you and Lieutenant Neumann.” Captain Savorre had an air about her that was somehow both comfortable and intimidating. Inez always chalked it up to her having a good four inches of height on her. But the smile she maintains is a comfort as she straightens out a bit.

“Look at you, making friends,” There’s something about the way she says it that reminds Inez vaguely of her older cousins asking about her social life back in high school. It’s almost sisterly. When Savorre starts walking, Inez is quick to follow. “How’re those glasses working out for you?” she inquires. Inez feels her face flush. The cold metal frames hanging on the inside of her shirt feel heavier.

Savorre picked up on Inez’s habitual squinting pretty quickly. She said nothing of it, but Inez did find a pair of readers on the pillow of her rack in Wendover. She’d thanked the woman at least five times; Savorre just laughed it off, telling her her secret’s safe with her.

“Just fine, thanks,” Savorre nods, satisfied. Then, Inez lets her curiosity get the best of her as they pass by Cleven again in conversation with the Sergeant at the bar. “Everything okay? With the Major?”

Savorre’s mouth curls on a grin, directed ahead of her as opposed to in response to Inez’s question. Inez watches as Savorre drapes an arm around Neumann’s shoulders. She’d been in some kind of conversation with Lieutenant Brady. There’s a quick exchange there: an I’ve gotta steal her from Savorre, a small eyeroll from Neumann and then a small, surrendering nod from Brady that ends with Savorre turning on her heel.

It’s then that the Captain seems to remember Inez’s question.

“Our Air Exec just knows how to make an impression, is all,” is Savorre’s breezy reply, arm still draped around Neumann’s shoulders, who’s giving her an equally questioning look, but saying nothing. “Lead the way, Eckley.”

And so she does: back to the table, with its awaiting map with an ever-growing collection of red pins in places all dotting the U.S. Croz introduces himself all over again and handshakes are exchanged, Inez taking a step back to admire their work. There was something about being unable to distinguish any of them from one another that made her happy. Ten men in a bomber, ten women in a bomber, ten people to fly a B-17, ten pins on a map.

Bubbles puts the one for Neumann somewhere in Pennsylvania that Inez has never heard of. Then Savorre takes one for herself, looks over her shoulder and casts a smile pointedly at Inez as it finds its mark. Like she’s letting Inez in on a secret.

“Motor City,” is all she says as she puts it, presumably, on Detroit — it only then occurs to Inez that their pilot didn’t talk much about where she was from.

Before Inez can ask anymore questions, the door opens once more and Savorre heads off, curious as ever, to see who’s walked in. Neumann’s already ducked back to her prior conversation, and Inez falls into a contemplative, but satisfied silence as Bubbles goes to wave down another pilot. Indiscernable points on a big, big map.

[iicheeze]

BOWL CUT'S FAMILY

birth giver || Raiden Ei

Kabukimono's mom

retired Sensei of Raiden Martial Group

horrible cook

but also kicked out Kabukimono out of the household when he reached 17 because uh

he was an accident

Yae suggested Ei to abandon him without him knowing but thought of it as too cruel so instead she just kicks him out when he's at an appropriate age

ye

anyways uh

uses flip-phones too much to the point that she gets confused when she was given an actual, newer phone brand on why there's no keyboard

never gets contacted by Kabukimono anymore

for a valid reason tbh

birth giver's shitty wife || Yae Miko

a menace

never liked Kabukimono

never liked any of Ei's children tbh

the only person allowed to cook in the Raiden household

CEO of Yae Publishing Inc. (also chief editor of it, very judgemental too)

did i say she's a menace?

she is.

both at work and at home

even tho she doesn't like Kabukimono, she sometimes contacts him for a spa date

does Scara answer?

no

but he still comes anyways

birth giver's abandoned daughter || Raiden Senshi

The new Sensei of Raiden Martial Group

Raiden Martial Group basically teaches all kinds of Japanese Self Defense, Swordsmanship, Bowmanship, etc.

very skilled in Martial Arts, Kenjutsu (Japanese Swordsmanship), Naginatajutsu, and more

a very strict teacher

if you want to hire her as a mentor, you're practically asking for torture

merciless as HELLL

if she breaks your bone and you whine to her about it, she'd basically just stand there and go

" weakling! "

and say that you haven't trained enough

is she still in contact with the Raiden family?

kinda

but she's just

yk

there

scara doesnt like her, says that she's like a living robot with no personality

is also the youngest sibling of the Raiden family

Aunty Makoto || Raiden Makoto

Ei's twin sister that's actually sane in the family

a humble doctor

lives in a different house than the Raiden family

when she was informed that Kabukimono was kicked out, she called him to see if he's alright and offered him to stay in her home for a while until he gets his life back up.

the only reason why scara is alive back then tbh

is still in contact with Scara

basically while Kabukimono was staying with her, she taught him all kinds of stuff to do to help her around the house

all his househusband skills are taught by her

shout out to Aunty Makoto fr

TAGLIST || @stellakito @crueldinasty @hysteriablues @hoesaria @dreamsofminnie @caffeine-mess @alatusorrow @lunaeclipsethesimp @lxkeeeee @myaaones @withloveminnie @shewolfniko @aeongiies @qwnelisa @liliumaraneae @candlebathwater @seirin-eyy @feiherp @nxsh30 @loivre @imdeadlyboredhelp @hotgirlshit5 @worldhardtibbysoft @mitsu-moshi @mono1606 @zomzomb1e @vvyeislazzy @crucnhice @omlxlaure @iethairs

@ownedbythescribe @mishtae @aloflapse @divinechicha @thefandomcrow @d4y-dr3am3r @tjjjrsj @certaindreampost @minninr @angelkazusstuff @zyilas @lumpywolf @haruaikawa @xiaosonlybeloved @reconaiise @yuyan @myoreiii @lordbugs @theaudacitiedmentose @scaravibe @exphhoria @venusflwers @ohmyfinggod @niyaiiz

BOLD MEANS I CAN'T TAG YOU! IF THERE'S ANY CHANGE TO YOUR USERNAME, PLEASE TELL ME!

SUMMARY II in which, a sassy and bitter househusband, and his beloved, idiotic streamer of a lover got married! what a lovely occasion. now, for the married life in a newer, and bigger apartment.

PAIRINGS || Househusband Scaramouche x Gaming Streamer GN Reader

MASTERLIST || IDIOT GAMER!

FUN FACT !

yeo is tired of typing yalls usernames

yall r very thirsty and they can see that

but since yall like it they still wanna type the rest of the usernames that still wanna be tagged but tumblr cant allow them to mention more than 50 ppl <//33333

until repost is allowed

HEHEHEHHEHEHE

[rynnthefangirl]

Ranking the deaths of the Targaryen Kings:

17. Aerys I- unspecified cause of death, so can’t really be ranked. -/10

16. Jaehaerys II- nothing special here, just sudden illness. No pizazz. 1/10

15. Daeron II- again, just an illness, although this one is at least an infamous plague and he was accompanied in death by two of his heirs, helping mess up the succession. 2/10

14. Jaehaerys I- old age, points for living long enough to actually die of old age though. 2/10

13. Aegon I- some points because it reminds me of the Godfather’s death. Just a normal stroke. 3/10

12. Aegon III- also just illness, but points because somehow consumption feels so in character for him. 5/10

11. Aenys- possibly poisoned by Visenya, possibly just died of stress (same). Pathetic either way, but also a bit tragic. 5/10

10. Aegon II- poisoned by his own men. Pretty funny and well deserved and saved my baby Aegon III. 5/10

9. Viserys I- again, just illness. HOTD makes it pretty dramatic though, the scene where he walks to the throne to defend his daughter will always be iconic. Also being left to rot by the Greens is so horrifically morbid. 6/10

8. Maekar- hit by a falling rock, wtf Maekar. Kinda lame, but also a little funny. A rock?! 6/10

7. Daeron I- slain under a peace banner, pretty iconic of the Dornish tbh. The tragedy of a young man’s ego. 7/10

6. Viserys II- probably poisoned by his own son. The drama, the hatred, the kinslaying, the tragedy bc he actually would have been a great king. 8/10

5. Aerys II- pivotal moment in Jaime Lannister’s character arc, and Jaime is great. Basis for some of the best development and dialogue in GOT. 8/10

4. Baelor- starved himself to death because his sister had sex. Hilarious, this is your brain on religious extremism kids. Iconic of Daena to cause this. 9/10

3. Aegon IV- literally fell apart and rotted due to his own gluttony and morbid obesity. Everything Aegon IV ever did was so needlessly extra, including his death. Legitimized all of his bastards on his death bed as one final act of spite against his dead siblings and his own son. Ruined everything for everyone as his last act on this Earth. What an icon. 10/10

2. Maegor- murder? Suicide? Slain by the throne itself as a manifested condemnation of his corrupted soul? What’s more epic than an age old eternally unsolved Westerosi mystery? 10/10

1. Aegon V- answer: another age old eternally unsolved Westerosi mystery. The sheer tragedy of cute little Egg setting himself, Dunk, and most of his family on fire is enough, but throw in a spiraling mental state, the dark theory that he was attempting a blood sacrifice, and the ominous refusal by the survivors to speak of what they saw. Love us a good unspeakable horror. Rip Egg🕊🍳 10/10

[emilykaldwen]

thinking about that talk with @murmel-malt about how george's ages for these kids in F&B is just... a mess. Like we know George keeps his characters young (Look at... 90% of the cast of ASOIAF being like, 20 and under or what have you) and now I'm on a distraction rabbit hole of how do differently?

Which basically boils down to extending Viserys' reign, and then putting larger age gaps between Rhaenyra's children specifically.

But I thought: Okay, let's break this down side by side for everyone else who is staring at these ages in show vs book canon and trying to make sense of it. I want you to know that you're not alone in this, and I hope this could be a helpful resource for making your own narrative decisions.

TL;DR - the show time jumps do not track and make no sense and has weirdly aged people down and also up and so you make your own decisions. I've put my age recommendations at the bottom of the post.

We know Vizzy doesn't care about the health of his wife, since good lord we know what happened to Aemma and the text specifically states it was not only how young she was when she first started getting pregnant, but also the frequency she was getting pregnant/stillbirths. Like that took a toll. Luckily for Book!Alicent, she was 19/20 when she started having children, and could handle that better

We have two years between Aegon and Helaena, and then 1-2 years between Helaena and Aemond depending on when Aemond was born, and then four years between Aemond and Daeron

With Rhaenyra, we have:

Jace was born at the end of 114 (Rhaenyra is 17, and Jace is the same age as Daeron), Luke is specified as late 115, which... doesn't make sense? Like TECHNICALLY, you could get pregnant as early as three weeks after giving birth (I googled a... lot for this) but like really?

(ETA: I'm not saying this doesn't happen, we have it seeming to happen with Aemond and Helaena, it's the same with Bran and Arya, but as I address below, It doesn't seem to fit with Rhaenyra's character)

Westeros has a 12 month calendar. Jace is a december Baby, which means late 115 means... Oct/Nov/December, which means Rhaenyra was pregnant by February with her second kid.

then Joffrey is born in 117, however it doesn't specify what time of year. We just know that when Aemond loses his eye, Joffrey is 3.

Aegon III is born towards the end of 120 (again, Oct/Nov/Dec). We know that Daemon and Rhaenyra married in 120, not even six months after the death of Laena and Laenor, who died early 120 and Laenor not long after. so with this, like, is Aegon a wedding night baby? Had Daemon and Rhaenyra started boning before they married? (I mean, likely). Then Viserys II is born in 122, then we have a seven year gap before Rhaenyra's birth of Visenya.

Like, I'm sorry, but you want me to believe that Rhaenyra Targaryen who watched her mother have miscarriage after stillbirth for the first 10 years of her life wasn't gonna be more careful about this? Like George, just because we didn't have condoms and birth control pills doesn't mean that there wasn't some kind of bc was used (and there's evidence of that in our real world).

(and like I was saying to Mo: I mean at the end of the day, these ages don't matter, since 78% of these kids died and yes I calculated that percentage, and he wasn't thinking about people digging into the age things because at the end of the day, that doesn't matter for the story he's telling)

Which then brings us to the fuzzy show logic:

The Time Jumps As Follows:

Episodes 1-2: over the course of 6 months.

Episode 3: Two Year Time Jump from previous

Episode 4: No time jump specified but Alicent's given birth. Did Rhaenyra only go to Storm's End? In the book she traveled all the way to Casterly Rock.

No time jump is specified from what I could find for Rhaenyra's wedding but to get everyone there for Rhaenyra's wedding, to put together a royal wedding, you need 6 months at least. Given how big baby!Helaena is, we're looking at a 6-10 month time jump. And I'm sorry but by ship, it's taking like, two-three days to sail from KL to Driftmark, and then you have negotiations that last more than a single conversation. So I feel safe in assuming the 6-10 month time jump between Rhaenyra's return/daemon thing to the wedding. (HOWEVER, everything I found claims there's no time jump, but that's literally impossible because people need time to travel to King's Landing as it takes at least two months from Casterly Rock/Oldtown to get to KL)

Aegon is the child we have confirmation for on his age. He is 3 years old when Rhaenyra is married. We know that Helaena, on the show, is exactly two years younger since Alicent is clearly popping any day on Aegon's 2nd birthday.

The Ten Year Time Jump

Aegon - 13

Helaena - 11

Aemond - 10

Jace - ??? Book canon states he's 4 years younger than Aemond, but there's no way Jace is 6 years old.

Luke - 4 years old. AGAIN, there's no way. I cannot confirm an age for the actor (who did a fantastic job) but he's definitely closer to 5 or 6.

Joffrey - NEWBORN vs being 3 years old at the time.

The Six Year Time Jump

Aegon - 19

Helaena - 17

Aemond - 16?????

Jace - ?????

Luke - 14 years old which makes him 8 years old during Driftmark (Luke's age was confirmed as 14 at the end, he was 13 in the book)

Joffrey - 6 years old

In the book: Aemond is 19 years old when Viserys dies, which should make him 19 years old for the final time jump. But instead Aegon is 19/20 years old.

SO HERE IS MY ADJUSTED SUGGESTION

It's just my suggestion, just my opinion, because again, none of this makes sense.

THIRTEEN YEAR TIME JUMP FOR DRIFTMARK

Aegon - 16

Helaena - 14

Aemond - 13

Jace - 10

Luke - 6

Joffrey - I mean you can keep him as a newborn to track but I don't think there's anything wrong with making him 3-4 years old IMO

ETA: adding in, Rhaenyra and Laenor talk about them trying to have a child, which means this actually builds in time for Laenor and Rhaenyra to try make their arrangement work instead of Rhaenyra just fucking off and hooking up with Harwin immediately.

SIX YEAR TIME JUMP FOR FINALE

Aegon - 22

Helaena - 20

Aemond - 18/19

Jace - 16

Luke - 14

Joffrey - 6 years (if newborn) or 10 years old.

Little Aegon - 6

Viserys - 4/5

I myself write a blend of show and book canon, but have tried to stick to show ages/timelines because frankly, more people have watched the show and I wanted to make barrier to entry easier for people. But the show timeline didn't make sense after Episode 5 so... here you go.

ETA: I FORGOT THE DRAGON TWINS but I suggest Baela and Rhaena to be the same age as Jace or Luke. Book!Canon, the dragon twins are the same age as Luke. Take that how you will.

THIS MAKES ALICENT AND RHAENYRA BOTH 17/18 DURING RHAENYRA'S WEDDING, AND 37 AT THE START OF THE DANCE.

[sirenthatmakesyouwantcake]

these are my thoughts on interview with the vampire episode 5 season 2

I've heard a few things about this episode, I've been really wanting to watch it just havent had had the time yet. I've also heard that they don't actually unpack any of it.which seems pretty on brand for them

(6:10) Sometimes, ii think i have bad handwriting, but then there’s daniel’s, which makes my feel a lot better about my own

(7:52) definitely gay (8:11) definitely

This whole interview is just a who can be the sassiest and most insane old gay guy possible

(9:46) daniel is like that one fall out boy song, he spent an entire decade high and doesn't remember any of it (or that he is gay)

(10:04) i like how they had him standing at the window, it's a nice touch

(12:53) if i just found out that vampires are real, i think i would be pretty fucking afraide too

I've been painting my nails while watching and ended up skipping on of my nails

(13:35) that was perfect, it was so close to quoting the book, it was good enough that i even recognised it before i even looked up the first few pages

(16:03) I like this louis more than the other few, he’s so much more fun and happy instead of seeming like he only sort of wanted to be there.

(17:18) it's no wonder he doesn't remember the first interview, he looks like he could barely stand if he wanted to

(22:55) 70’s armand is millennial grey

(24:21) i think someone is a little jealous (another weirdly spelled word) ((25:19) and the other one is schizophrenia), i also think two someones need to go the marriage therapy

(26:16) well that took quite a turn, and i think its shows their relationship well, how even thought why both had just yelled at each other, armand still saved him right away, and then, though i haven't gotten there yet, i assume that armand made him forget how bad it hurt, (38:22), i take parts of that back, armand basically torched him, they really do need therapy, i'm surprised they didn't end up killing each other in the time between the interviews

(29:23) poor daniel got caught in the middle of their messed up relationship

(30:01) for some reason, i thought the guy in the bag was daniel, and somehow he was revived and turned into a vampire, i clearly didn't think this through much because now that i'm thinking about it again, there in no way that would have worked

Armand is supposed to look 17, he looks 20 or so, i know his actor is somewhere in his 20’s and he did play him well, i don't think they could have done the show the same way if he was played by a younger actor.

(38:22) about time

(45:31) louis is quite a jump scare when the rest of your room is dark and quite

(51:01) once again, not talking about the problems

OTHER

I really like how both daniel’s had similar voices, specifically the gravely (i think that's the right word) parts

Conclusion of this episode: maybe all four of them could use some therapy or atleast to talk to each other and work out their problems (the last part doesn't really apply to lestat, he was not part of the sort of ok guys, not good guys, i don't think any of them really qualify as good guys except daniel, he was just caught up in everything)

This episode really put their relationship through it but i think it may have helped parts of it as well, maybe if armand and louis could actually talk they could have a better relationship that isn't just hanging off a cliff

@certainunkownlove2 was telling me about this post and i think all of you need to read it, he is so wonderful for this

Thank you for reading, now it is time for me to rest (literally speaking, it's late and i'm tired)

other episodes

S2E1 S2E2 S2E3 S2E4 S2E6

[signed-sapphire]

The Fallen Star ✨

A Wish rewrite

Asha redesign 💜

Hehe hi Anny sorry I’m basically stealing your reimagining format… let me know if you want me to change it

Anyways hi! Inspired by so many amazing Wish reimaginers (yes that’s a word shut up), mainly @gracebethartacc/@gracebeth3604 and the aforementioned @annymation, I decided to post my own rewrite! This being the character details.

Now, unlike the prior AU Ashas, my Asha acts less like a Cinderella and more of a… Kusco. If you catch my drift.

But don’t worry! Our girl is going to go through some major character development!

But first… let’s get to meet her!

(Ignore the shit quality this is the only art I have of her atm since I don’t have my ipad with me… will update with better photos later)

Princess Asha Arabella Arman is the heir to the throne of Rosas, the kingdom of wishes

It was founded by none other than her adopted father, Magnus Arman

She was raised by Magnus and Amaya for the past 8 years, and has been coddled quite a bit

All three of the Armans lost their homes to to the evil Stars, so Asha is against everything to do with Star magic

Just like the movie, Asha is 17 years old, and can’t wait until she turns 18 and can wish to become a great magician like her papa

No matter how hard she tries, wish magic doesn’t work for Asha, something she finds extremely frustrating

When this happens, she has a tendency to lash out and snap at people

Many servants have been fired for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but they understand

At least, the older generation does

Stars destroyed their homelands with their greedy magic, and Asha just wants to be as great as her parents

Though… they do think she could be nicer about it

Asha’s parents are always quick to come to her rescue and smooth things out after her temper blows up, rehiring staff and gently reprimanding Asha

They’re not the best parents but like they adopted her when she was 9, they don’t know how to deal with kids

Still, they love Asha as their own

Gonna get more into the king and queen of Rosas in part ii, back to Asha!

Becaude her parents are such great heroes, Asha feels very strongly that the citizens of Rosas should be treating them as if they are the most grand royalty ever

And as their daughter, she should be awarded some of the same privileges

Except none of the teenagers her age seem to like hanging around her, always calling her snobby and self-centered

Excuse me? She was not self centered! Asha just believed her kingdom deserved the best, and their rulers even better! Obviously!

Personality traits

Stubborn

Loyal (to those she deems worthy)

Spoiled

A bit naïve

Insecure but covers it up with WAY too much confidence

Bad liar. Will be important later on.

^But SUPER good at pulling out her “I’m your princess I’m better than the air you breathe” face when needed

Never seems to take her duties seriously… think Rise!Leo if you can

Backstory

So my rewrite’s epilogue is posted already, but imma put her angst here too anyways~

Stars used to help people fulfill their own wishes, until one day they got lazy and started simply granting them instead

This method messed with the system and drove the Stars crazy, mad with power, and they started destroying kingdoms to get more magic

Little Asha’s village was unfortunately one of the victims

Sakina and Tomás barely had time to react before the glowing streaks of light crashed through their roof

Screams echoed through the chaos, and giant hands made of twilight ink scooped up villagers

Tomás and Sakina grabbed their little girl and huddled over her protectively as another blast of scorching light exploded through their roof

When the dust settled, and the harsh glow had faded away, there was only one sound left in the village

The sobbing of a 9-year-old girl, crying and begging for her parents to wake up

That’s when Magnus came across Asha, and took her under his wing

He could fight away Stars, so Asha stuck with him

It took a WHILE for her to learn that Magnus wasn’t going to harm her, but hey, Magnus had her back through it all

After he and Amaya founded Rosas, Asha was reassured that she would never have to see a Star destroy everything she loved ever. Again.

Oh, Asha, if only you weren’t the protagonist of your story

Design

BEFORE I DO ANYTHING I WANT TO GIVE A HUGE SHOUTOUT TO @mythartist21 BECAUSE THEY DESIGNED BASICALLY THE WHOLE LOOK FOR ASHA AND CIELO GIVE THEM A ROUND OF APPLAUSE AND GO CHECK THEM OUT

*Ahem* So I did a bit of a deep dive into Asha’s design in the “pilot” over here BUT for her fully updated design today, notes below (a lot of it copy-pasted from here)

Asha’s concept art was inspired by Moroccan and Amazigh fashion, so @mythartist21 added a bunch of inspiration from that in her design

Our girl has her hair accessories back!

I gave her fuller lips and a longer nose bc we only had Jasmine for the nose rep in Disney Princesses, and she’s Afro-Hispanic! Show off her black features!

I also darkened her skin bc… I get that people from North Africa can have lighter skin, heck, Pepa from Encanto showed good rep for the lighter skinned Colombians! But like… we only have one other black princess. Let’s show off that skin color diversity

She also has wider shoulders, a bigger chest, neck, and waist, bc she’s not white but also WOMEN WITH MUSCLES>>>

Asha isn’t super jacked but she does have muscle defining and I want to write in a scene where she has no sleeves on so we can appreciate her arms

RatLD had Namaari’s back and my bisexual ass needs some more women to simp for

Eyeshadow as a reference to Elsa but also I felt she needed some color on her face. Miiiight change it later on when I add in her hair beads but for now she has eyeshadow

Gonna keep the many Rosas symbols bc she’s the princess of the kingdom, what do you expect?

Also she just looks older in general (even though she’s still seventeen like canon!Asha) which I think lends itself to her royal status idk

+ technically more realistic proportions which ig can be a callback to the times when animators did rotoscoping?

Dimples. Bc they’re fantastic

I TRIED to draw Asha with her fine braids, but people were complaining that canon!Asha looked too much like Isabella Madrigal, and with TFS!Asha having darker skin + longer nose structure + more haughty personality? Yeah, I gave Asha back some body in her hair

Idk I tried to make them look like the braids from this concept art ⬆️ (imagine they’re like this… I did the art at like 3am okay)

I HC that Asha’s canon outfit is her younger self’s outfit, down to the detailed braids done lovingly by Sakina

But after the incident with the stars…

Let’s just say Amaya tries her best, and Asha appreciates it

I also finally modeled our girl a crown! Based off of Amaya’s weird ass canon one, and the tiara look of the early Disney Princesses

Gotta make one for Maggie too…

[hookedsworks]

HOOKEDHOBBIES KINKTOBER 2024

Day 17: period sex

wc 1371

SLEEP TOKEN FANFICTION

Trans!II x III, period sex, description of period symptoms

III found II curled up on the overstuffed loveseat, under a blanket. He was groaning. III’s eyes flicked to the date on his phone screen, and realized that II must be on his period now. Now’s a good time to test that theory he read online. 

“Hey, baby, you okay?” III crouched next to the loveseat. II’s eyes were rimmed with red. “That bad?” II’s hand shot out from under the blanket and gripped III’s hand that was resting on the arm. II nodded, not saying anything. He groaned then, nearly crying. He broke, whining. 

“It hurts,” III gripped his hand. “Everything hurts, and I’m hungry, and I’m horny, and I just want it over,” II ranted from beneath the blanket. III was overwhelmed with just how fucking cute he was. The gentle slope of his nose, the tears gathering on his waterline, III had to have him. 

“I’ve heard orgasms are actually a really effective pain reliever,” 

“No! I’m gross,” II exploded. III furrowed his brow. Then he leaned forward and kissed II’s forehead. 

“I won’t touch you if you really don’t want me to. But I don’t think you’re gross. And I’d like to relieve all your pain,” 

“No!” II pulled the blanket over his head. III pursed his lips then. 

“Well, alright. But if you change your mind, I’ll be in my room,” and III walked away. 

*** 

II found himself thinking of nothing other than III sliding his giant cock into his bleeding pussy. The stretch would be insane. He wondered if III would let him lay with his heating pad on his back. III always took such good care of him, and he couldn’t think that this time would be any different. He was sensitive and tight and his pussy was drooling more than blood as he stewed about it. III had seemed interested, but he didn’t want to deal with cleaning up or anything of the sort. Still… he found himself outside of III’s bedroom door. It was cracked, and II could hear the Call of Duty noises coming from within. He rapped his knuckles against the doorframe. 

“Come in,” III’s voice was muted. II could imagine that he was underneath four different blankets, gaming while on his belly, laying flat across his bed. 

“Umm. Hi,” II shuffled, standing in his doorway. III paused his game. 

“Hi, baby. What can I do for you?” III rolled so he could sit up and look at II. 

“Ummm,” II shifted foot to foot. He didn’t know how to ask for sex, why had he even come in here? He felt ridiculous. 

“Sweetheart,” III got it without II saying a word. “Come here,” III messed with all the blankets, creating a space for II to lay down. 

“I uh..brought my heating pad,” II held it out nervously once he was near the edge of III’s bed. III grabbed it and arranged it so that II could lay on it. 

“I’m glad you did. Lay down,”  III was being so nice and it made II’s eyes well up. But he listened and laid down. Once II’s ass was on the bed, III was pressing one of his giant hands over II’s lower belly. It was big and warm and the pressure was perfect. II sighed softly then. III’s eyes lit, pupils expanding. “That feel good?” 

“Uh huh, it’s nice,” II resituated so he was flat on his quickly warming heating pad. III’s hand spread out over his lower belly, applying continued gentle pressure. 

“Did you want me to do more, or just this?” III’s soothing voice had II clenching around nothing. He couldn’t deny it, he was fucking horny. He wanted III. 

“I don’t want to make a mess,” II sighed. III’s eyebrow shot up then and he tsked at II. 

“Other than the mess. Do you want me to do more or just rub your belly?” II blushed to his root then, thinking he was really going to have to say something. He canted his hips up to III’s hand harder. He didn’t want to admit to wanting this. III removed his hand then, and II couldn’t keep the whine back. 

“No, wait, please,” II’s hips bucked toward III then. III leaned away, but only to snag a towel. II clenched again, thinking that III was prepared for this. To fuck II. While he was on his period. 

“Alright baby. Lift your hips for me,” II looked around, eyes landing on III’s crotch. III was really hard. III followed where II was staring. “What? You’re hot,” II just squirmed. He didn’t want to talk anymore. He just wanted III’s big fingers inside of him. III gently removed II’s PJ pants. He was thankful he’d put his period boxer briefs on. III took those down as well, revealing the source of II’s discomfort and pain. III looked for a moment, watching II’s pussy weep blood for him. III hummed and shifted so he was settled between II’s legs, thumbs massaging up II’s thighs. 

“Just…ah…do something,” II said as III’s thumbs kneaded into his inner thighs. It did feel good, given his tension, but he wanted to feel III inside of him. III tsked again. 

“I can’t just split you open like this. You need some warming up,” III’s fingers touched at II’s bloody pussy. He parted the lips, groaning at the sticky noise. 

“I don’t want any warming up!” II took on such a bratty tone that III pressed his thumb down on II’s clit. II hissed then, and III traced down to push inside of II. The walls of II’s pussy were so tight and so hot, III was worried about actually putting his dick inside of him. 

“You’re burning up, baby,” III murmured. He slid his middle and ring finger inside of II, positioning his thumb over II’s clit. He rubbed slow circles until II groaned and gushed arousal over his fingers. “See? Just needed some warming up,” 

“If you stop right now, I’ll kill you,” II hissed through his teeth. III realized that II’s inner thighs were trembling, his belly was flexing against III’s other hand. 

“Oh? Are you gonna cum for me?” III purred then. II nodded and was shaking as III continued the slow circles around II’s clit. He was conscious of everything, making damn sure to not switch his rhythm now. Except… he couldn’t resist. He slowly increased the pressure of the circles until II pulsed hard, flooding III’s palm with his pretty cum. It was pink and that just made III harder. “Oh, good boy,” III groaned. II was panting, eyes wild as he came down from his orgasm. Then, II was moving. “Hey, where are you going?” III pressed down, but II wiggled. 

“I… fuck me like this,” II asked, as he wiggled down onto his belly. The heating pad made him moan, it was hot and nice and he couldn’t wait for III to push into him. He was facedown, waiting and wiggling his ass for III. 

“Well, who can resist such a sweet request?” III shuffled around, getting his sweatpants off. His cockhead was nearly purple, he was so hard for II. III got his cockhead against II’s pussy and II sucked him in. “Shit, ah,” III slid all the way inside. II was tight, fluttering and pulsing around III. II moaned, loud and high pitched. “Oh, II, love, you feel so good,” II arched back and down, his spine bending into the most beautiful curve. His soft back dimples right above his ass were III’s favorite, and he wrapped his hands just so, placing his thumbs right in the gentle divots. II was keening, whining and just overall driving III rapidly toward his orgasm. II’s hips rolled into III’s, his pussy hot against III’s hips. “Shit, II,” III steeled himself, fighting off the impending orgasm. 

“No, cum for me,” II fired back, knowing how close III was. III gasped then, driving himself back into II deeper than before. “Please,” II asked softly. He grinned, feeling III begin to throb within him. 

“I-ah-fuck,” III groaned, drilling into II and painting II’s bloody walls with his cum, turning everything pink. 

“Thank you,” II whispered, making III throb all over again.

[mamuzzy-creates-stuff]

My little OrdoMaze art collection in one place <333

「Dynamic of Ordo and Maze」[Snippet]

ORDO x MAZE CLONESHIP 18/09/2023| Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | They are awkward af | Start of my brainrot for them | 

「I don’t deserve you」[COMIC]

ORDO x MAZE CLONESHIP |28/11/2023| Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | Ship prompt | Prompt | Hurt & Comfort | Ordo is spiraling but Maze comforts him. In his own way. | 

「When your boyfriend is a bookworm」[ART] 

ORDO x MAZE CLONESHIP 10/01/2024| Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | Fluff | 

「Erotic Dice Game with the Di’kutla couple」[ART]

ORDO x MAZE CLONESHIP 14/01/2024| Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | Maze wants to try an erotic game and Ordo is going psycho again | I swear they are in love, they told me!

「Maze’s fictional crush died :((((((」  [ART]

ORDO X MAZE CLONESHIP 31/01/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | Sketchbook | Ordo is a jealous one, jealous even about fictional lovers |

「Fuck you, Maze」 [COMIC]

ORDO x MAZE CLONESHIP 02/02/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | Sketchbook | Ordo is a menace |

「You were late, now suffer the consequences」 [COMIC]

18+ ORDO x MAZE CLONESHIP 04/02/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | I’m obsessed with juicy alpha-class thighs, your honour | The art goes to an SFW tumblr post so from there you can decide if you want to see Maze’s juicy alpha-class thighs yourself by clicking on the AO3 link |

「He asked for no onions」 [ART]

Ordo x Maze CLONESHIP 19/02/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | They are both awkward. Period. | 

「Tactical smooch」 [ART]

19/02/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | Kissing | Mentions of homophobia, mentions of clonecest phobia | This is a companion-art to He Asked for No Onions. When I started to being active, I swore that every anti-cloneship hate post/comment I get, I’ll do kissing clones and tag the haters under it. Ok, I won’t do such things because I don’t want my ship art about boys being soft be tainted with fandombullshit all the time. You don’t mess with Mamuzzy, they are going to cry!!! (and becomes a vengeful spirit, lol) |

「It’s safe under the blanket」 [ART]

Ordo x Maze CLONESHIP 20/02/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | Wholesome fluffness I think they pretty much sleep like this~ | 

「O Ordo, Ordo wherefore art thou Ordo」[ART]

ORDO x MAZE CLONESHIP 20/02/2024 | Alpha-26 Maze | Maze is daydreaming in the office | Romeo and Juliet parody | 

「They are so stupidly in love I just can’t」 [ART]

ORDO x MAZE CLONESHIP |01/03/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | Received a very kind ask <3 | 

「It is not socially acceptable to throw up in the alleys of Coruscant」 [FIC] + [AO3]

ORDO x MAZE CLONESHIP 08/03/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | Kissing prompt | They are drunk as fuck | 

「Just let me boil in my water a little longer」 [FIC]

ORDO X MAZE CLONESHIP 14/03/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | Kissing prompt | It’s actually just a post with the AO3 link and I think I will keep this format when uploading fics from now on. |

「Maze, Ordo and books」 [HEADCANON]

ORDO x MAZE MAZE x BOOKS :DDD CLONESHIP 17/03/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | Headcanon | Maze is a booklover. | 

「Why cat shaped if not a cat?」[COMIC]

29/03/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze, Arligan Zey, Commander Fox | Ordo is cat-coded for me. |

「BOOP!!!! Part I」 [COMIC]

CLONESHIP ORDO x MAZE 12/04/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | Maze uses vile tactics against the Null to deescalate their usual tense encounter |

「It's not for customers, I promise!」 [COMIC]

14/04/2024 | Alpha-26 Maze, Kal Skirata, Ordo Skirata, Mereel Skirata, Prudii Skirata | Restaurant!AU | Based on this post. | WARNING: Under the cut there is a comic with cartoon violence, blood and dead body depicted in comically goreish situation. |

「Your eyes are shit」 [ART]

CLONESHIP ORDO x MAZE 17/04/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | Wanted to draw something wholesome with them, or at least, something cute-couple thing to do <3 | Also I'll never get bored of Maze having glasses |

「BOOP! Part II」 [COMIC]

CLONESHIP ORDO x MAZE 21/04/2024 | Ordo Skirata | Ordo had a few sleepless night after that incident |

「OrdoMaze: Rimming」 [ART]

18+ ORDO x MAZE CLONESHIP 23/04/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | The only they don't fight is when they have sex, and Ordo is especially losing any will to bicker when Maze giving him a rimjob |

「He attacc he protecc but most importantly he stalks」 [ART]

CLONESHIP ORDO x MAZE 15/06/2024 | Captain Maze, Ordo Skirata | Ordo being an adorable little creep but Maze doesn't mind |

「An interactive OrdoMaze story」 [Ficlet]

CLONESHIP ORDO x MAZE 15/06/2024 | Captain Maze, Ordo Skirata | I intend to continue this. | CW: stalking |

「Spiteful Kiss」 [ART]

CLONESHIP ORDO x MAZE 14/07/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze, Kal Skirata, Mereel Skirata, Jaing Skirata | Prompt: Spiteful kiss | What is more spiteful than kissing your boyfriends who hides you from his dad and brothers? |

「Trust」 [ART]

CLONESHIP ORDO x MAZE 20/07/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | Ordo is a jealous person and his intrusive thoughts about killing Maze are not helping | Based on song |

「Lopott könyvek」 [ART]

CLONESHIP ORDO x MAZE 22/07/2024 | Ordo Skirata, Alpha-26 Maze | A song inspired me and had to draw them being softies |