#the coloring of the sky and background is so cool to me
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Thomas Ian Griffith as Jan Valek in John Carpenter's Vampires (1998)
#gif log#vampires#vampires 1998#thomas ian griffith#john carpenters vampires#horror#this is something I'd like a behind the scenes info on#like how did they safely pull off burying several of their actors?#let alone how hard was it to get out of the ground?#i didn't put a filter over these#the coloring of the sky and background is so cool to me
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Can i just say as both an artist and cosplayer i am so greatful and amazed over Jojo's amazing linked universe comic and just how much time and effort she puts into it.
i mean i am floored over 10 pages a month fully colored with detailed backgrounds and good story, believe me it's crazy amount of work. ...and speech bubbles. eurgh typography...(u can guess which part of comic making i enjoy the least)
Not only that but i am eternally greatfull for just how many angles we get to see the characters in the comic, the varied poses and expressions are not only amazing to look at and great way to show personalities, but also just such great reference points when either drawing the characters or trying to figure out how the hell a costume is built up.
AND jojo has drawn them in various stages of their clothes on during the comic, so you KNOW HOW THE LAYERING WORKS.
How is Time's armor built up? Boom right there in multiple angles and sometimes off.
Ah how does Hyrule's layering work? BOOM right there with an interesting maybe leather based under-armor??
How large is Twilight's chainmail and how is it built up? BAM right there.
Jojo literally drew a whole page of how Sky's clothes are built up, layer by layer.
It's truly a blessing!
AND IT IS CRAZY that jojo added so much beautiful embroidery to the characters' clothes.
(my brain is like "oh but me like to know every detail of the embroidery of every character", and i end up looking at the pictures and say "sush brain don't be a spoilsport they're already detailed just use your imagination of what jojo has drawn and what could fit the specifics", because that is fun too! like Sky's embroidery on his over-undershirt could very much be berries of some sort on twig together with some sort of classic skyloftian forms, like lingon berries though it isn't,( i know that lingon berries don't exist in hyrule...) but it would be a fun idea!)
As you can see by my... detailed oriented nature i am very interested in their designs. But again the whole comic is a true wonder, i mean, so many angles not just the characters but the surroundings. So many different zoom-outs and zoom-ins utilized, the comic knows when to change from one character to another to more than one. So it's great on a technical standpoint too. And it's SO cool to see how Jojo's art has changed through time. (that is not a pun)
Anyway, i felt like i had a lot to say, and this was me saying it. I guess it's a Appreciation post for jojo, for showing other artists and creatives so much different and amazing artwork. (and giving us amazing references)
But also it's that i want other people to see(though i think they do already) how much time and effort and love has been put into it, not that it matters much coming from me as a random person who happens to enjoy her work.
But i think it's fun to show appreciation for artists and writers anyway.
#it is truly a blessing when working on the cosplays#and drawings#rambles#linked universe#Lu#A LONG ASS RAMBLE#SORRY#I JUST WANT TO BLABB ABOUT DETAILS#I was working on figuring out / drawing out time's armour#and got super sidetracked writing this#I just wanted to blabb about this comic series#i will go back to figuring out times armour now#bye#loz#the legend of zelda
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Hello :D
I have been following you for the last year or so (a few days after I got my Tumblr lmao) and I absolutely love your art!
I have been wanting to study your art style for a while but don't really know where to start,,,
Could you please show me a small portion of your art process, if it isn't too much trouble of course. Thank you and have a nice day!
hello. oh my god. this took forever to find.
im sorry it took 2 WHOLE FUCKING MONTHS for me to respond to this but i wanted to put it off until i felt happy with my art process again, so here it is
my fall 2024 rendering tutorial!
(this will be very very long)
FLATS AND WHATEVER YOU WANNA DO WITH LINES GIRL. then make sure to recolor the lineart to better match your base. trust me it helps, bold dark lines are Not your best friend when rendering. wait for that post-rendering
i start off with a doodle or a sketch, and then filling it in with flats and other details such as blush
FIGURE OUT YOUR LIGHT SOURCE. FIGURE IT OUT GIRL YOU CAN DO IT you can make it as simple as possible, make it as big as possible, dont even THINK about the details.........just make it really fucking big so you at least know where the shadows and the light goes THEN add smaller shading details LISTEN TO ME. LISTEN TO ME OKAY!!!!!!!!
my key point with this is for you to learn lighting fundamentals.
it's SOOO ANNOYING but alas......they are all correct. it helps a lot.
one thing i also really want to point out is that i like creating a big shadow shape first before fixing up the little details (such as folds and whatever) because it helps me focus on the way the lighting actually works instead of tunnel vision-ing into making the shading make sense on the clothing.
contact shadows (i dont remember if thats what theyre called okay) theyre fucking ugly because im not actually thinking sorry 💔
okay so basically:
contact shadows (if that's what they're called) are the spots in shading and lighting where light will NEVER hit.
shadows are still influenced by the colors and lights around it (it's why a blue shadow and a yellow shadow feel completely different, despite both being shadows) so it's not always COMPLETELY dark.
BUT! there are small points in shadows where light never hits, and they're almost always super dark or pitch black.
it's hard to explain shadow and light so briefly for a tutorial, but you'll notice it when watching fundamental studies and when trying it out for yourself
YES i unclipped the multiply layer YES its ugly and terrifying but it makes coloring the multiply layer easier okay the colors merged w multiply so now it looks cool and has depth overlaying colors that actually make sense
so basically what i did was color the multiply layer that i used to shade the overall drawing
adding a band of red/orange/yellow around where the light hits, and blue where the shadows get big and wide, gives it a fake ambient occlusion effect in the way that a person would get if they stood under the sun with a clear blue sky
the colors don't have to make sense, especially because i never draw backgrounds, but coloring the shadows really help it give a sense of depth and extra subtle detail and effect that just helps make the painting look nicer
around the end, i also put in colors (in an overlay layer with a low opacity brush) that actually make sense in context of the drawing, which is the lit cigarette and the yellow eyelights
mostly because none of the colors were making sense and i needed to actually make use of the lighting that DOES exist in the drawing lol
adding a muddy golden yellow pin light layer (opacity turned down to like 40-50%) to make the light colors less ugly lol
i SWEAR by the fucking pin light layer style. it's so useful and so so underrated.
i used an almost brown-ish gold color on stop of all the layers, and with the pin light layer, it helped make the bright (almost blue-ish) white colors more warm and more yellow. it just helps make things more warm (something i prefer)
i could probably show what it looks like without adjusting the layer opacity to truly show off what i mean (like in the coming section) but i sadly forgot to do that lol
make a layer on top of your drawing with this color in these ranges YES the drawing is fully merged NO don't be afraid, the base was fucking ugly anyway 💔 make this layer into an exclude/exclusion layer style TRUST turn down your exclusion layer opacity from a range of 10% to 40% literally until you're happy with the contrast and the way the color over the drawing. use your eyeballs. i know you can do it im so proud of you
this is pretty self-explanatory instruction-wise, so i'll go into why i do this instead
i really like art that seems like it has low contrast, with almost mid-gray shading and lines. i don't personally use dark and bold lines and shading, unless i find it necessary for the tone of the piece, so using this method helps lower the contrast of the art and make it look "pleasantly muddy" in the way that it's easier and softer on the eyes.
the inverted blue color also helps makes things warmer!
the exclusion layer style is still a bit of a mystery to me but i really like the effect it gives, even if i don't completely get how it works lol
if you want an alternative method to this, and if you have access to it (because i primarily use sai and sai only),
i absolutely encourage you to play around and experiment with gradient maps.
there are so many out there you can make yourself or even get from others that just give the painting an extra amount of depth and color variation. they're SO fun.
personally, if sai2 gets a gradient map update, it's over for y'all it will literally be so over no one will be able to stop me
then i merged everything and actually adjusted the contrast back up because it was looking too muddy for me 💔 but the color adjustments are still there so all hope is not lost here's a comparison of the adjusted contrast in black and white (adjusted on the left) (newly merged layer without adjusting the contrast on the right)
as you can see, i actually turned the contrast back up (despite talking all about how i liked things with less contrast lol)
i wanted to demonstrate that doing adjustments should be done in moderation, and is why i adjust layer opacity often when making color effects
you are free to play around with colors to help your style, but don't lose your initial idea and colors along the way.
you still need to trust your own colors and intuition!
along with that, i just want to say that it's completely okay to change your mind mid-painting, and it's okay to make somewhat drastic changes.
don't be afraid to change things you don't like or change your mind about certain aspects way later on
that's basically the whole thing of this!!! don't be scared!!!
now im gonna hold your hand when i say this..........but you need to learn how to render by yourself. it seems like i can teach you but i literally can't, because rendering is different on every piece and depending on how clean your base is. i have to render A LOT because of how fucking ugly my sketches are LMAO to simplify it, think of it as obsessively cleaning up every detail you can see, but with a color picker and a clean, hard edged brush. if you have shit lineart, you don't have to redraw it cleanly over and over, just paint over it. that's basically what rendering is
THIS especially is where you need to be brave and stop being scared.
like i said, i can't teach you how to render, and it's something you have to discover yourself because rendering is something that will always be personal to every single piece you make. the way you render on every piece is different.
on one piece, you will barely need to render, and on another, rendering is more than half of your ENTIRE process.
don't be afraid to paint over your old art.
rendering is a process that's both very perfectionist yet also very careless.
find your balance and just go for it.
and then that's it……..u did it………..now yuo know how to paint and render. it's literally just layering shading and lighting knowledge until you think it makes sense and looks okay lol additional note: since i render in only one layer (you don't HAVE to do this, but it'll be harder for you…), i also made slight adjustments with the transform (and liquify, if you have it) tool to make things more proportionate. (i drew the head too big lol)
if you compare the finished piece to the final unrendered base, you can see that a LOT changed, including a bit of subtle proportion adjustment.
particularly, the sleeves changed A LOT (because i really didn't like them)
but it's also over all cleaner and more coherent, instead of having haphazard colors and shading just thrown about.
rendering is when you finally use all 100% of your brain to finalize and figure out where the shading should go, where to clean up your lines, where to ERASE or ADD BACK in lines, and make sure all your colors look coherent.
it's not as intimidating as it seems, i only use a hard edged brush with a little bit of color mixing and my color picker.
it's like dragging and dropping colors to cover up mistakes, it's really quite fun when you get used to it
i wish i could explain it clearer but it's hard to describe without visuals!
i hope this helped, and i hope all my yapping isn't annoying (art as a special interest beloved)
have fun studying and trying to render in my art style!
#long post#art tutorial#rendering tutorial#art help#art tips#tutorial#kia doodles shit#artxstic-scr1bbles#tutoriel
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More Foodfight! Material DISCOVERED
That's right, I'm back. Just like I prophesized in my last post, yet another treasure trove of Foodfight! goodness has been uncovered, and this might be one of the strangest to date...that's right, official Foodfight! Cinnamon Sleuth Cereal was sold at Albertsons back in 2007, over five years before the movie finally came out!
Okay, not really, but I had you going for a second, right? So, this IS a proposed packaging design for actual Cinnamon Sleuth cereal, but it never went into production, it never made it to stores and there was certainly never any actual cereal to be eaten. This, among several other designs and a collection of behind the scenes material, was sent in recently by a Foodfight! crewmember, who explained they were mockups created to show off possible tie-in products. I'm not sure why they chose Albertsons for these mockups but it's likely they were in talks with them at the time and wanted to show off designs including their branding. In any case, I just had the Cinnamon Sleuth box printed because I thought it'd look cool next to my collection of Foodfight! merchandise, and I wanted to see if anyone would be convinced this really existed.
I've included all the designs above in case you want to print your own- there are several more including another cereal, brownie packaging and milk cartons. Curiously, the milk cartons have Farmland Dairy logos on them, with Farmland Milk actually appearing in the finished film at several points. I'd say this confirms my theory these mockups were created to show to companies they were already actively working on deals with, but I can't say for certain that was the case.
Equally curious are these character sheets from 2002, seemingly showing off almost every model created during early production. There are so many fascinating layers to this- Sunshine is still a human instead of a catgirl, showcasing a very different model to the one seen in the initial trailer, and Maximilius Moose is still a dog named Panzer Pup, both aspects that were changed once the decision was made to change Dex to a dog. However, it may be that Dex's human design was edited out and replaced after the fact, given Dex's model here appears to be the one from the finished film (you can tell by the weird hands). In any case, it's fascinating to get a closer look at all these characters- while the majority of the models for the main cast were found recently (see my last post for more on this), there are a bunch of side characters here we've only seen brief glimpses of before, including the Pringles man and the scantily-clad Cherry Waifer. The most fascinating to me however are the Red and Yellow M&Ms- I've read through their scene in the movie's script, I've seen multiple versions of the storyboard, even rough layout animation in the workprint, and it's only now I'm FINALLY getting to see their actual character models and how they would've looked in the Foodfight! artstyle. Sure, they more or less look exactly as they did in M&M commercials that aired around the same time, but it's still amazing to actually see these characters modelled and rendered after analyzing so many different iterations of the scene as it went through development.
The crewmember in question also sent a folder containing over a hundred stills which while at first glance appear to be from the finished movie, are actually subtly different in multiple ways- usually lighting, facial expressions, or background textures like the sky or color of a hill. A lot of these are labelled "fix" which makes me speculate if after the movie was completed, the crew went back and tried to touch up the animation to make it look more appealing before release. Is there a slightly better looking version of Foodfight! somewhere out there in the world? Who knows, but really it would've been like trying to polish a turd. The movie was already ruined by then, and I don't think any number small changes would've done much to salvage it. However, that does bring me to my next interesting point...
There are also storyboards dated May 2011, depicting an alternate opening to the movie giving a much more cinematic introduction to the main characters. It's crazy to think they were still working on storyboards so late in production, but there IS actually a reason for this. I unfortunately can't upload the entire sequence due to this site's image limit, but what you might notice are a lot of characters being described as "flying over the audience", "flying into the camera" or knocking things "into the audience", with some of the boards having "(3D)" written in parenthesis next to them. It's my belief that very late into production, Kasanoff wanted the movie to be 3D, made popular by the then-recent Avatar, and this new opening sequence full of flashy 3D effects was drawn up to show off what they could do with the technology. It's not clear if any of this was ever actually animated, but imagine going to see a movie that advertises itself as 3D but only the first minute contains any 3D elements. Of course, Kasanoff requesting this is only speculation on my part, but given how the movie was ruined by the crew having to cater to his whim of directing the whole thing with motion capture (made popular by the then-recent Polar Express) it's no stretch to assume the 3D opening sequence was a similar situation.
There's a ton more that was sent to us as well, so much so that I could never hope to talk about all of it. However, it should be on archive.org at the time of writing this if it isn't already, and you can now access everything Foodfight! related through the official Foodfight! collection on there!
That's right, so much Foodfight! material has been uploaded over the past year that the Internet Archive gave it its own archive, allowing you to find everything in one convenient place (including my scans of the novelization and Deluxe Sound Storybook). It'll also be updated periodically whenever something new is found, so it'll always be the home to all things Foodfight!. Whether you're wanting to take a look at some concept art shown in ROTTEN: Behind The Foodfight, read through an early draft of the script, or check out something I've talked about on my blog, it's all here at your fingertips.
I don't think there's ever really going to be an end to the depth of the Foodfight! rabbithole. I thought I was done a year ago when I finished analyzing the novelization, and look at everything that's been found since then. Every time I think I'm out, this movie pulls me back in. So...in my next post I'll FINALLY show off my collection of Foodfight! merchandise and talk about what this movie means to me, but that doesn't mean it's the end for this blog. Whenever I say I'm done with Foodfight! I end up jinxing it, so if I try to conclude things now in a few months some CD will show up with a bunch of lost footage on it, I'll get mailed concept art of a bunch of characters we've never seen before, or it'll turn out Larry Kasanoff was actually D.B. Cooper the whole time. So as long as there's something new to discuss, as long as there's a Foodfight to be fought, I'll keep updating this blog from now until forever. You better duck when they launch the cream pies!
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‘Act II’
Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.
Index
Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI
Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.
Chapter 2 - Wine & Tequila | ‘Act II’
word count - 10.8k
That night at the villa unfolded like a watercolor painting, the colors of the evening blurring and blending together under the influence of laughter, music, and the heady warmth of too much wine. The luxurious Greek coastline stretched out below, a glittering ribbon of blue under the starlit sky, but the true magic was in the villa itself, where the night seemed to pulse with an energy that was as intoxicating as the drinks that flowed freely. You were surrounded by British boys and your best friend, their faces flushed with joy, eyes bright with the kind of happiness that only seems to exist in these rare, perfect moments. The terrace was alive with the sound of their laughter, the clink of glasses, and the murmur of conversations that felt endless and full of possibility. The air was thick with the scent of the sea, mingling with the sweetness of jasmine that climbed the stone walls of the villa, creating a heady mix that made everything feel just a little bit more surreal, a little bit more dreamlike. You found yourself drawn to Jude, who was leaning against the edge of the terrace, the warm light casting soft shadows across his face. He looked like he belonged here, in this place where the earth met the sky, as though he had stepped straight out of one of the myths that clung to the ancient stones of the island. His presence was magnetic, pulling you toward him with a force that felt as natural as breathing. With every glass of wine, every shared smile, you felt yourself slipping further into something you couldn’t quite name. You moved closer, the warmth of the alcohol in your veins giving you the courage to flirt, to let the banter between you and Jude to flow as easily as the wine. Your conversations were light, playful, but beneath the surface, there was something more—a spark that ignited every time your eyes met, a connection that grew with each passing moment. As the night deepened, the villa around you seemed to fade, the world shrinking to just the two of you. You couldn’t stop the way your heart fluttered every time Jude laughed, a low, rich sound that seemed to wrap around you like the night itself. You found yourself watching the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the way he leaned in just a little closer with every word, as if he was as drawn to you as you were to him. You shared another drink, and with it, the distance between you seemed to dissolve completely. The night carried on, and so did your dance—a dance of words and glances, of light touches and shared secrets whispered in the dark. By the time the first hints of dawn began to touch the horizon, you knew you were in trouble. You could feel it in the way your heart leapt when Jude leaned in close to whisper something in your ear, in the way your pulse raced when his hand lingered on the small of your back. The world around you was starting to blur at the edges, the villa, the sea, the night—all of it fading into the background as you stood together, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Jude reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle, almost reverent. The gesture was so simple, so intimate, that it took your breath away.
You and Jude decided to sneak away from everyone after this dance was dragging on too long. Not a word shared. You just both felt you wanted to be alone away from all the chatter and curious eyes. You descended down a massive staircase from the villa nestled up in a clif down to the shore line. The sun in its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of pink and orange as you wandered down to the beach, a bottle of wine clutched in your hand.
“You look good tonight, did I tell you that?” Jude asked you softly trailing behind you, getting lost in the vision of you, having a hard time focusing on the steep stairs.
“Yeah, you did but you can always tell me more than once.” You turned around with a gentle smile that had Jude taken aback by how naturally gorgeous you were. It wasn’t like your carefully curated instagram that he had coyly stalked not only today but had since he had seen Whitney post you ages ago. You weren’t trying. This was beautiful in an organic way. He almost preferred it…almost although the bikini pictures weren’t exactly a turn off.
“You just got my mind and my heart fucking racing the past couple days. You do something to me.” Jude admitted against his will swayed by the amount of drinks he’d had as you made it towards the bottom of the stairs.
“I thought you’d like this one. What do you think?” You asked, spinning for him. The moon catching on the gold buckles of your Christopher Esber mini dress and the highlights of your skin.
“Yeah, thought right. Looks unreal on you.” Jude cooed. The villa’s laughter and music fading into the background as you finally stepped onto the sand, leaving only the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. The soft crunch of sand beneath your feet was quiet as you made your way closer to the water's edge.
“Wouldn’t look better on your floor?” You cheekily joked recalling his words the other night. It was a bit forward but you two didn’t really have to be subtle anymore.
“You’re funny, you know.” Jude told you as he watched you slightly stumble to a quiet spot near the water’s edge, where the sea kissed the shore in a gentle, rhythmic dance. Jude plopped down first and held his hand out to help you come sit with him. You sank down onto the ground, the warmth of the day still lingering in the sand beneath you. The air was salty and sweet, tinged with the fragrance of wildflowers that grew along the cliffs, mingling with the rich scent of the wine as you uncorked the bottle.
“Yeah? I just like to see you smile so if I have to pull out some jokes it’s for my own benefit.” You smiled gently at him. You weren’t actively trying to be funny but getting Jude to give you that million dollar devastatingly handsome smile was a welcomed response.
“Like it that much? Wow…” He flashed that very smile you adored so much to you.
“What can I say? I think you’re very pretty and I’m very funny so it’s a good match.” You babbled a little drunkenly. Jude’s eyes filled with adoration you didn’t catch. Without a word, he grabbed your chin gently and swiftly in what felt like slow motion pulled you towards him. His lips brushing yours in a tender, almost hesitant kiss. It was a kiss full of longing, as if he was trying to pour all the unsaid words and hidden feelings into this single, fleeting moment. It was slow, soft, a little drunk, and perfect. You smiled. Your lips curling and inadvertently peeling off his. He kissed you again, more deeply this time, with a passion that caught you by surprise, as if he couldn’t get enough of you, as if he had been holding back for far too long but then he pulled back abruptly, his breath shallow, his eyes searching yours with a mix of apology and worry.
"Shit. I'm sorry.” He murmured, his voice barely a whisper over the sound of the waves. "I didn’t mean to be so forward. I just... I got caught up." It wasn’t that he was drunk, which he was but it was more that he just didn’t even know he was going to kiss you. It was instinctual and magnetic. You blinked up at him, a soft giggle escaping your lips, a sound light and airy against the heavy backdrop of the night. Your fingers found their way to his cheek, and you smiled, leaning in to kiss him again, more confidently this time.
“It’s okay, Jude.” You whispered, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. “You can kiss me whenever you want.” You smiled bigger, grabbing both his biceps, giving them a gentle reassuring squeeze. His hesitation melted away in an instant, replaced by a smile that mirrored your own, full of relief and something much deeper. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as if he never wanted to let go. You kissed him back with all the reassurance you could muster, pouring everything you felt into the kiss—the warmth, the comfort, the unspoken promises. You had brought down a bottle of wine with you. You poured yourselves each a glass, two that Jude had carried down for you, the deep red liquid catching the last light of the day, turning it to molten gold. Jude took his glass, your fingers brushing in a way that sent a thrill through you, a shiver of excitement that had nothing to do with the cool evening breeze. You clinked your glasses together, a soft, lazy toast to the moment, to the perfect simplicity of sitting on a beach in Greece with nothing but time stretching ahead of you. The first sip was rich and full-bodied, the taste of it lingering on your tongue like a promise. It was a wine meant to be savored, but with each sip, the edges of the world seemed to soften, and you found yourself sinking into a delicious, wine-induced haze.
“You know wine?” Jude asked you with another flash of his smile. He shuffled in his place turning his body more towards yours.
“I should say yes.” You shrugged after your admission. Jude raised his brows looking for more information. Your words were clearly laced with more. “My dad’s into it.” You vaguely explained not really providing any further clarity.
“What’s he like?” Jude attempted to learn a little more about you with a question but you didn’t think you wanted to talk about your family with him, especially not right now.
“No, don’t start on all that.” You sympathetically smiled appreciating the ask but unwilling to delve further.
“Well… fine, answer me about wine then.” Jude threw you an accepting smile that made you wish you were willing to open up to him. You felt you could. You trusted him but you didn’t trust yourself not to get yourself in too deep. You almost hated how comfortable he made you.
“Yeah, I mean I enjoy it as much as the next person… we… or my family like own a big winery in France or whatever, it’s a whole big thing.” You babbled giving him a small nugget of information about your family background but brushed it off burying it with nonchalance.
“Sorry?” Jude muttered between a hearty laugh that sent an ache through your chest. A big winery in France wasn’t all that clear but your casualty about it made him know there was more beneath the surface. Your lifestyle was very clearly one of luxury, there was nothing casual about it. He figured he’d ask another time. He kissed his teeth. “You and Whitney just really run the show, huh?” He teased you, nudging his knee against yours.
“Daddy’s money isn’t exactly running the show, is it?” You sighed with an insincere smile. You and Whitney had met at uni and bonded over similar interests but your commonality of similar childhoods glued you together for life. It was an upbringing of getting gifts in exchange for your parent’s presence. No matter how grandiose the present was, it was never exactly enough to mask what you really longed for. And while you didnt take your life's comforts for granite, it felt hollow. It did also mean that it wasn’t exactly new for you to take off work to galavant off to Europe to stay in a villa on a whim. In a bizarre world you actually had some similar experiences to Jude; unlimited credit cards, no supervision and unrealistic body standards but Jude seemed to be enjoying his circumstances more than you ever did but who were you to complain about the predicament.
“Nah, I’m obviously joking.” He squeezed his hand right above your knee. “You said you work, yeah? Remind me what you do?” Jude turned to you entirely, genuinely more interested in what you did for work than anyone ever had been.
“Art galleries.” You quietly answered him, not really sure your job would be of any interest to a footballer. It was important to you but depending on the person some found it mundane or pretentious.
“Meaning…” He laughed, waving you on to continue to tell him more. His eyes sparkled in the falling night.
“I curate art galleries.” You bashfully explained a bit more with a shy smile. It didn’t feel like he was pulling teeth by any means but Jude could tell you were holding back in the conversation.
“That’s kind of mad, you know.” Jude told you. He reached his hands out and placed them on your shoulders and turned you towards him more since you had been apprehensive to do so.
“Is it? You ever been to an exhibit you liked?” You asked Jude. His willingness to listen to you and inquire more made you feel a little giddy. You got caught in the excitement and asked a question Jude wasn’t exactly ready for.
“Erm… An exhibit might be a stretch. I have some field trips I enjoyed.” Jude laughed with a shrug. You scooted towards him and with a smirk he pulled you further into him, getting you to sit in between his legs. Your back to his chest once again encased in his scent.
“Oh Jude… We have to get you out! We’ll do wine and an exhibit one time.” You giggled, settling further into his embrace.
“You’ll have to help culture me, angel.” Jude cooed. His words warming your heart.
“You’re cultured Jude.” You smiled, turning your head back to him slightly to catch a warm glint in his eyes looking down at you.
“Yeah but in a different way. Forced to learn Spanish in my 20s isn’t much culture.” He laughed humorously belittling himself.
“Just ignoring your family background, living in other countries, and playing international football but sure. Think you're getting any good?” You asked him. He kissed your temple appreciating you acknowledging him. “Big duo lingo boy?” You giggled.
“Ha I wish. I have to go in person to class unless I’m on the road.” He reflected on his progress with a sigh. “Nah, well… maybe it depends. The more I drink the better I think I get.” He hummed resting his chin on your shoulder tucking his face into the nap of your neck.
“Go on…Háblame bebé.” You turned to look back at his gorgeous face as his hand moved to lay over your stomach whilst his fingers played with the gold metal ring details of your dress.
“¿Tú hablas español?” He asked in blur of a Madrid and Birmingham accent smashed together.
“Un poco, no muy bien, pero me va bien con los idiomas.” You stumbled through your words trying to recall the language you’d learned in school.
“Eres interesante, ¿sabes?” He spoke faster than you anticipated. Maybe he knew the language better than he led on but his accent and the wine had you struggling to keep up.
“This is hurting my brain, I’m bowing out. I haven’t spoken Spanish in a minute.” You giggled, settling back against his chest.
“You sounded good.” Jude complimented you kissing your hair with a hum.
“Yeah? Well neither of us are Spanish so who are we to say?” You took a sip of your wine before nestling the base of your wine glass back into the sand beside you ensuring it wouldn’t spill.
“Nah, you sound good. I like your voice.” Jude cooed gently. He kissed your hair again. You weren't sure he even knew he was doing it so you let it go on without saying a word but each time he did it your body relaxed more.
“Oof really? I’m always one of those people that when I hear it back in a video it’s just the worst.” You winced a little hearing anyone, but specifically him, saying they liked your voice.
“No, trust me… as someone who has heard it first hand a lot lately. Like a lot, you don’t shut up.” Jude teased squeezing you a little. You hummed feigning offense by his jab. ‘Nah, It’s perfect.” He further explained. You questioned him with an inquisitive glare. “You moaning my name in my ear is perfection.” Jude groaned a little remembering it, moving to come kiss your neck. You couldn’t see but his eyes went wide after the words fell out of his mouth. Did he really just say that out loud? Maybe he was more drunk than he thought or maybe he liked you more than he knew. He couldn’t see but you gave him a smug eye roll. You talked about everything and nothing, your conversation flowing as smoothly as the wine. The sky deepened to indigo, stars beginning to flicker into existence above you, and with every glass, you felt the space between you shrink. The wine made you bold, your laughter louder, your smile softer as you leaned into him, the warmth of Jude’s body seeping into yours. The banter was easy, playful, but beneath it was something more—a current of unspoken tension, of desire that swirled between you with every glance and every touch. The wine was loosening your tongue, your inhibitions slipping away with each sip, and you found yourself telling him things you might not have otherwise—secrets, dreams, the kind of thoughts that only come out under the influence of too much good wine and the spell of a Greek night. Jude listened with that same lazy smile, his eyes dark and knowing as he leaned closer, his hands finding their way around you. It was a delicious warmth that mingled with the wine, making you dizzy in the best possible way. As the bottle emptied, the world around you seemed to blur, the stars above spinning in a slow, languid dance. The wine was doing its work, pulling you closer, making everything feel just a little bit more intense, a little bit more real. The waves continued their gentle rhythm, a lullaby that matched the pounding of your heart as you turned to face him fully, your lips curving into a smile that was both shy and bold. There was a moment of silence, the air thick with anticipation, before Jude leaned in around you, his lips finding yours in a kiss that tasted of wine and salt and the sea. It was slow, languid, a kiss that felt like it had all the time in the world. You melted into him, the wine making everything feel softer, more intense, as if the whole world had narrowed to this one perfect moment on the beach, with the stars above and the sea at your feet. In a fell swoop, your back was pressed against the sand, Jude hovering over you, his arms placed beside your head. “Fuck, you’re so sexy.” Jude groaned looking down at you as he began to pull your dress up your body. You arched your back letting him take it off entirely. You helped him rip it off before guiding his hand back to your now exposed body, causing you to let out a moan at the touch. He had you, hook, line, and sinker with your eyes pooling with lewd desires. You placed your hand on the nape of his neck, tugging at his hair, as he lowered his head, placing kisses along your collarbones and chest. You buried your face on his biceps to muffle yourself as he began to play with your nipples, pinching the hardened buds while he sucked the curve of your shoulders.
“What if someone sees us?” You asked Jude apprehensively when you felt an ocean breeze hit your skin and your now wet core, reminding you of your state. Although, your lust-induced mind hoped he would be able to come up with something to convince you.
“You’ll just have to be a little quiet f’me then, yeah?” He cooed licking on the spot behind your ear as he tugged on your nipple, making you shiver not sure if you could keep to what you were about to agree to. You nodded anyway, impatient for his touch you’d been craving.
“Jude” You gasped into his mouth. He immediately pulled away from you and kissed his teeth in an effort to reprimand you for making noise. You mouthed a ‘sorry.’
“I’m all yours tonight, baby if you can stay quiet, yeah?” Jude cooed before crashing back into a kiss. Kissing Jude felt different tonight. Maybe it was the build up of tension throughout the holiday or maybe it was the thrill of knowing you could get caught fucking him down on the beach. Jude wielded his dominance over you fervently, he pinned your arms above your head, his lips never leaving yours longer than a second to breathe. His perfect pouty lips traveled down to your tits. You whimpered as you felt his lips come around your nipples. He sucked on the left one, brushing his warm tongue left and right before tugging on it with his teeth. The level of arousement in you was getting higher and higher and the familiar knot forming at the pit of your stomach was starting to form. The prominence of his cock burrowed between your spread legs, rubbing against your clit and making you thrust your hips further into him for friction. He let his hand come to knead your exposed tits, the wisp of his breath tingled down your body as he kissed your skin, tying a knot in your core. Swifty he rid you of the only bit of clothing you had on left. A minuscule thong, he threw to the side with no care. “So fucking wet f’me already.”’ He mused as he kissed your pelvic bone, letting his finger drag through your folds gathering up your slick. The request to stay quiet gone out the window in minutes. Swiftly he moved his finger up and into your mouth. Your tongue obediently swirling around him. ”‘Who made you this wet, huh?” Jude smugly asked you.
“You, oh my god you.” You whimpered as he kissed the inside of your thigh. When his lips finally began kissing your clit your hips bucked upwards involuntarily. Your fingers gripped his hair. He sucked harshly on your sensitive clit. You had no control as you writhed underneath him. You had been dreaming of this. His mouth on you sent a shot of ecstasy through you. You felt dizzy from the wine but more so from him. “Fuck Jude!’ You whined as he pushed not one but two fingers into your pussy. His tongue fluttering over your swollen bundle of nerves. Your walls welcomed the pressure of his intrusion. Your eyes shutting in rapture at his pace. You couldn’t stop your body from involuntarily grinding against him. You couldn’t stop yourself. He curled his fingers further inside, finding your g spot fast, refusing to let up. You rode his fingers, your moans only getting louder as he worked in tandem with his tongue toying with your clit. You let out a soft cry as you rocked your hips up onto his hand.
“So good f’me.” He looked up at you, a wet smirk on his lips breathing hot air into your cunt, a coil winding in your stomach. Almost immediately you felt your orgasm come crashing over you. Your body shaking as his tongue continued to assault your clit rhythmically. “Cum f’me. That’s it angel. Good girl.” You looked down at Jude as you came, his eyes filled with hungry lust, his face buried deep in your pussy, the moon beginning to shine down on you both. The iridescent ocean in the background played a symphony harmonious to your moans and his filthy slurps dragging out your high. Jude slowly pulled his fingers from inside but still softly stroking though your folds when he finally emerged from your legs to breathe. It was a deliciously lewd sight. Your slick dribbled down his chin. You giggled in pure ecstasy as your thumb swiped to catch the wetness.
“Can you… Can you please fuck me.” You begged him desperate for more of him. In the darkening night Jude flashed a devious but excitedly childish smile watching you tug down his trousers and allow his enormous cock to spring free. He groaned between the swift motions slowly aligning his cock with your core and sliding into you. You both gasped at the contact. He moved slowly inch by inch letting you adjust to his size but he just wanted to get as deep as possible. You felt better than before. His thick cock hit your g spot almost immediately once he was in. He felt so deep and the stretch of him being back inside you had your mind turn to complete mush. You lost any control you had when he was fully inside. The force and pace of his thrusts increased and so did the volume of both your moans.
“You’re such a good girl, so fucking wet for me.” He said hearing the sounds of your slick as he dragged his cock slowly out of you and watched himself push all the way back thrusting harder. Your legs wrapped around him tightly as you let one of your heels drag down his muscular back. You were whining in pleasure. Your lips parted gasping at the sensation of him. You both were moaning inexplicable phrases of praise and adoration. You were completely obsessed with each other and how good the sex was only amplified it. You could feel another orgasm fast approaching.
“Please, please, please keep going.” You whimpered, feeling him continue to drill into you, the sand shifting beneath you with every rough thrust. You were getting lost in the pleasure that he was giving you while he was just as infatuated by your body and the sounds you were making had him fighting to not cum.
“Fuck, baby, feel so good. You’re gonna make me cum.” Jude grunted watching you quiver under him. The intensity of his fucking truly was overwhelming and became even more so when his hand dropped to rub harsh circles on your clit between your bodies. He let his spit drop down onto your throbbing pussy. You squeezed your eyes tight. Your mind was complete mush with every stroke seeming to hit deeper. “So close, angel. Cum with me. Will you cum with me?” Jude heaved, picking up your leg, draping it over his shoulder, kissing your ankle. You could only manage a nod. You let your head drop back letting out a sinful moan as he managed to hit even deeper inside of you. His whole length repeatedly hitting your g spot. Suddenly he felt an even more arduous determination to fuck into you like you’d never felt before. Jude bit his lip and with a devilish glint in his eye he watched you fall apart on his cock. Your pussy tightening impossibly around him.
“Jude… Jude… I’m gonna cum. Fuck!” You cried feeling like you were going to black out. Your body trembled as you squirted messily onto him and his cock. Pussy gushing around his thick girth in uncontrollable squirts. The release caused your body to shudder, your head pushing backwards with force, you were moaning his name senselessly.
“Fuck, fuck!” He cried out. “Baby I gotta cum. Fuck! Let me cum inside, please.” He was at his limit desperate to release. You could only nod again, you were in the pull and you didn’t want him to pull out. This felt too good. His harsh movements began to a halt as he buried himself deeper inside you. Pumping you full of his cum while pressing his lips to yours. You both laid into each other's sweaty bodies, foreheads resting on the other. His cock was soaked in your slick as he carefully and gently removed it as you both came down. Beneath the dark azure sky of a secluded Greek beach, the world seemed to hold its breath. The sun hung low, casting a golden glow over the sands that stretched like a whisper between the cliffs and the sea. The waves lapped gently against the shore, their rhythm a soft invitation, a lullaby that melted away the rest of the world. “Holy shit, angel.” Jude groaned, exhausted. You giggled as he rolled off you and pulled you into his body again, his laughter quick to follow yours. Jude’s hands traced the curve of your back, his touch like a brushstroke against your skin, each movement deliberate, reverent. You responded with a soft sigh, your fingers gripping his hair holding him to you. The salt-kissed breeze caressed your bare skin as your bodies entwined, a dance of want and need that was as old as the earth itself. Your breath hitched as Jude’s lips found the hollow of your neck, his touch both tender and urgent. Each kiss was like a drop of honey, sweet and languid. The sand beneath you was cool, grounding you even as you lost yourselves in each other. When you finally came to, breathless and spent the first stars were beginning to twinkle. You let the cool night air wash over you, the beach your publicly private haven. The sand, the sea, the sky were all witnesses to a moment that was at once primal and profound, a memory etched into the very fabric of the earth.
“I think we’ve been here for hours… I mean, is that the same star we've been staring at, or have we just been spinning around?" You giggled a little delirious from the sex and the wine.
"I think it’s the wine that’s spinning, not us. But who knows? Maybe the stars decided to join us." Jude smirked at you, moving you to settle more on his chest as he rubbed his hands over your warm skin.
"Maybe they did. It feels like we’re the only ones in the world right now." Your voice was soft paired with the waves hitting the shore as you shuffled nuzzling your face against his strong chest.
"Yeah? I don’t think I’d want it any other way. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so… what’s the word… content? Maybe that’s just the wine talking though." Jude laughed at himself. He was struggling to find his words and he wasn’t sure if it was the wine, the sex, or frankly, he was a little nervous that it may have been just you.
"Or maybe it’s me. I’m pretty great company, you know." You giggled and the sound rifled through Jude’s heart. It was like you were reading his inner most terrifying thoughts.
"I won’t argue with that. But honestly, you’re… different Y/N. Like, in a good way. You make everything feel lighter, like I could drift away if you weren’t holding me down." Jude laughed cautiously. His eyes had a warm front but there was a fear behind them that you were unable to see.
“Are you trying to say I keep you grounded, Judey? Because I can be a lot of things, but ‘grounded’ isn’t usually one of them." You playfully nudged him with a childish nickname that he normally hated and yet he didn’t even bat an eye when you said it.
“No, I mean it. There’s something about you… the way you laugh, the way you look at me like you’re figuring me out. It’s… I don’t know, refreshing Y/N." Jude told you sincerely the laughter disappearing from the night air. Jude was cautious around people especially since he had catapulted into fame. He trusted his gut and he trusted that it felt as if you really liked him for him, not for entity Jude Bellingham.
"You’re not so bad yourself. You’ve got that whole cocky confident athlete thing going on… But then you smile, and it’s like—bam! Everything changes." You blushed slightly wiggling against him to sit up to take a much needed sip of wine feeling incredibly parched by the serious undertone of this conversation.
"And how do you feel about that? About me changing things?" Jude leaned closer. His voice dropped low. A shiver ran up your spine along with Judes hand tracing up the protruding bones.
"It scares me a little… I won’t lie but I think I like it. I think. I like you… ” You confessed unexpectedly and uninhibitedly. You met his gaze, your voice almost a whisper. Jude shifting from this media persona to someone you were actually interested in made you very worried. “You know, like in a fun friend way.” You tried to rectify your admission. You didn’t want to fall for him and you certainly didn’t want to admit to it.
"Yeah, sure. That’s good, angel. I like you too you know in a ‘fun friend way.’” He mocked you with a pinch to your side. “A lot more than I expected.” Jude admitted himself, sitting up and wrapping his arms around your naked body. You shouldn’t have felt this comfortable completely bare on a beach but you did with him.
"What did you expect?” You laughed softly and a little nervously. You raised your brow at him wondering if you were supposed to be offended or not.
"Honestly? I didn’t expect you to be so… easy to talk to. So easy to want more of. I didn’t expect to be so interested.” Jude shrugged, taking his eyes off you and looking out into the blurred, dark, and distant horizon with a serious glare. He wasn’t sure what he thought he was saying but it felt vulnerable.
"I didn’t expect any of this either. But here we are, a little tipsy, a little reckless… and maybe that’s okay.” You turned and kissed his shoulder behind you. “So did you know I was coming on this holiday or was I just a pleasant surprise?” You giggled and reached up to cup his cheek to get him to look at you. You wanted him to know it was okay to just talk right now. You weren’t clinging to every word like it was bible.
"Yeah, it feels more than okay. Maybe it’s exactly what I need." Jude admitted looking down at you. He kissed the inside of your wrist holding his face. “I heard you’d be here. You were a big part of a pretty enticing holiday package I’ll be honest.” He shook his head very confused at how you were getting him to tell you all this.
“Oh…” You whispered inquisitively. You laid back down tangled together on the beach. The night was still warm, and you could feel the breeze brushing over your skin as you rested against Jude’s chest, both of you catching your breath. Jude shifted under you, his fingers lazily tracing circles on your arm. There was a comfortable silence, but you could sense something was on his mind. You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. "What’s going on in that head of yours?" You asked him, seeing as he just stopped talking moments ago.
“I, uh… I should probably tell you something. It’s kinda dumb, but I feel like you should know.” He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering with a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. Your curiosity piqued, you shifted onto your side to face him fully, your chin resting on his chest.
“Okay, sounds interesting.” You wanted to laugh but you also wanted him to share with you. He let out a low, almost nervous chuckle, avoiding your eyes for a second before finally meeting them.
“I’ve, uh... I’ve seen your Instagram. A lot. Like, I’ve gone through it more times than I care to admit.” He sheepishly told you. You blinked, surprised by the confession, but a grin immediately spread across your face.
"Wait, what?" You almost giggled but refrained, needing more. Jude groaned softly, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Yeah, it’s embarrassing. I could probably tell you your Instagram handle backwards at this point, that’s how many times I’ve typed it in my search bar.” He ran his hand over his face. You laughed softly, teasing as you traced your fingers along his chest.
“So, what, you’ve seen all the bikini pictures? The selfies? All the nights out?” You giggled recalling some of your frequently posted content tropes. He groaned again, rolling his eyes with a sheepish grin.
“Yes, all of it. Every single post. All the nights out… in very tiny tiny skirts by the way.” He admitted with a sigh. You sat up slightly, still grinning.
“And you didn’t like one single post? Not one! Because I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed. Wow…” You cheekily smiled at him with some self satisfaction knowing he had been snooping around but you noticed your teasing wasn’t being received all that well so you dropped it and moved to place your hand on his leg, swiping your thumb over his knee a few times “Wait… how long has this been going on?” You mused with real curiosity. You felt like you would’ve seen it an account with millions upon millions of followers was in your likes or story views. Jude propped himself up on one elbow, giving you a lopsided smile.
“A while. I told you , you were part of why I agreed to come on the trip to Greece in the first place. I knew you’d be here, and, well… I wanted to meet you, not just admire from afar.” He gently explained. Your teasing expression fell and softened as his words settled in.
“Really?” You almost pouted but didn’t want to patronize him.
“Yeah.” His voice was low, a little rough with emotion. “I didn’t know when I’d have the chance otherwise. I’d heard Whitney and Trent talk about you, and then I saw you and then I didn’t want to miss the chance. I wanted to know if you were the same girl I’d been looking at through my phone.” He confessed. You felt a sudden warmth spread through your chest, your heart skipping a beat.
“And now?” You smiled. Jude reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he gazed at you.
“Yeah, think I prefer knowing you in real life.” He smiled back at you leaning forwards to rest his forehead against yours. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, the teasing gone, replaced by something deeper.
"Well," you murmured against his lips, "guess that makes two of us." You cooed as your lips met once more in a soft, lingering kiss, the kind that made the world around you fade into the background, leaving only the warmth of your connection and the sweet promise of something more.
“You’re not talking to Y/N right?” Jude sheepishly asked Trent’s brother, Marcel after you had snuck back up to everyone at the villa. Your disappearance was definitely noticed but not harped upon. Jude had taken a seat next to Marcel on the lawn.
“Nah mate, told you. It was just like a one off no big deal.” Marcel brushed him off with a wave of his hand. Marcel shot him a look of confusion. He assumed that was a given. Sure you were flirty by nature but it was clear you were into Jude. Jude had known and heard about you and Marcel and it didn’t bother him, not a bit. He just wanted to know where things stood and he was too juvenile to ask you. He didn’t want you to know he cared that much. He wasn’t supposed to care despite him not needing to.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sound.” Jude didn’t look at him, he kept his eyes locked on you as you moved, swaying in a hug with Whitney. You didn’t tell her the finer details of what just ensued down on the beach but you said you just wanted to ‘have some fun alone’ and you assumed she would understand. Jude began to smile seeing one pull on your face.
“Uhh ohhh. I see now. So you’re into herrrr, huh?” Marcel’s eyebrows raised interested watching Jude almost pout looking at you. He thought you were a sweet girl, fun, and a good time but he wasn’t trying to take anything more from it. Jude had thought he felt just the same until now.
“I don’t know if that’s the word. Just sussing her out.” Jude sighed, shifting to look back at him. ”Mate my heads a mess. It wasn’t exactly my plan for the holiday. She’s cool, you know?” He looked at Marcel hoping he wouldn’t take the piss and would maybe understand Jude’s confusion.
“Yeah cool, course, bro. Not the first thing that comes to mind when I look at her but...” Marcel started laughing Jude joined in. He jokingly shoved at him amidst the laughter. Your looks often were the first thing people, particularly men, seemed to notice.
“It’s maybe not the first thing I thought either. She’s so leng bro but also as much like I hate to say this because I know it sounds fucked up but she’s a lot smarter than I thought she might be.” Jude explained with a tinge of guilt in his voice.
“That is fucked up. I think meeting her as Whit’s friend I wasn’t expecting anything but. Whitney’s not exactly stupid.” Marcel laughed humorously criticizing Jude’s shallow expectations.
“No... no, she’s not. Stupid for being with Trentski for sure but otherwise no.” Jude continued laughing. It was apparent once all the boys in Trents life had met Whitney that she was more quick witted than her appearance might have had them assuming. They all gave Trent shit upon this discovery for him punching above his weight class. Although you were proving to be just as much of a heavyweight as she was.
“Bro’s fucking punching. For life as well, he’s locked in now” Marcel laughed both at his brother’s ability to pull a girl like Whitney but also the fact that he had fallen into a wildly serious and committed relationship.
“Definitely mad that it all came from some holiday.” Jude laughed along with him. “Maybe Y/N’s not a monogamous girl though like Whit. I don’t know her that well.” Jude threw a thought out he really had no interest in entertaining but in hopes it would help not ruin Marcel’s perception of him. He also didn’t want to end up looking like a simp the way Trent did after a holiday.
“Doubtful bro but I’m not gonna say no either.” Marcel laughed with a tinge of real disbelief in Jude’s sentiment he didn't feel comfortable with. Jude’s lack of sincerity in saying you may be a more than one man girl didn’t sit right with him. “I mean it’s not all that far fetched for you to end up the same though.” Marcel tried to switch the direction of the conversation to another possibility far from the one of sharing you.
“Eh… I mean she’s sick. I like her but she lives in New York and I… I don’t.” The reality of your fling with Jude loomed. He felt his heart sink a little.
“Didn’t stop them.” Marcel patted his knee and stood up. At the very same time Marcel was departing, you were walking by where they were sitting to head inside when Jude grabbed at you.
“You better be going to wait in my bed for me.” Jude cooed, his voice low and teasing as he traced his fingers lightly along your arm, stopping you in your tracks. You glanced down at him, meeting his gaze with a playful smile, swaying slightly on your feet. Lust was beginning to bubble in your chest. His other hand slid up your leg from your calf up your thigh.
“I will… in a bit.” You smiled with a wink. “I’ll meet you there, baby.” You flashed him a grin before turning away. You tailed Whitney inside to get more to drink which became a poor decision fast. Standing in the warm, flickering light of the villa's kitchen, you felt like you were floating on a cloud of tequila and laughter. Whitney and you were barely keeping your balance, your movements graceful in the way that only a couple of very drunk girls could manage. The bottle of Don Julio 42, so beautifully designed with its intricate patterns and rich amber hue, sat like a trophy on the counter between you. You admired it as though it were the most precious artifact in the world, your eyes glassy and your giggles louder than the music playing in the background. You reached for the bottle, struggling to pour more tequila into the pitcher while Whitney clutched a salt-rimmed glass, her fingers slipping and sliding over it like she was trying to grasp a slippery fish. You were both so thin, your alcohol tolerance barely holding up against the potent allure of the tequila. Every sip made your heads spin more delightfully, and your cheeks flushed with the heat of drunken exhilaration.
“Look at this,” Whitney said, her voice slurred and filled with admiration. “This bottle is like... a piece of art.” She cooed. You nodded, feeling the weight of the tequila in your veins, making you giddy and uninhibited. “It’s gorgeous. Like, if I could marry a bottle, it would be this one.” Whitney laughed, a joyous, carefree sound that mingled with the clinking of glasses. She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief and inebriation. “So, what about Judey?” The question hit you like a splash of cold water, though it was anything but unwelcome. You felt a flush of warmth spreading through you, not just from the alcohol but from the thought of him. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile that was already tugging at the corners of your mouth.
“Oh, Jude,” You said, your voice a soft, dreamy sigh. “He’s... He’s Jude.” You sighed. “He’s so sweet. And there’s something... just sweet about him.” You said saying really nothing at all. You swayed slightly, your hand reaching for the bottle again, your fingers barely able to grasp it. Whitney, equally disoriented and amused, grinned at you with a knowing look.
“Really? You think so?” she asked, her tone playful and teasing. You pouted, taking a sip and letting the tequila warm you from the inside out.
“Yes, really. He’s like… sweet. I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s like... he’s so sweet, and... I don’t know. It’s just...” You babbled. Whitney laughed again, her laughter merging with yours, creating a symphony of drunken joy. You stumbled around the kitchen, your conversation growing more disjointed and incoherent as the tequila took hold. The world outside was a distant blur, and in that moment, it was just the two of you, tangled in a haze of tequila and unguarded confessions. As the night wore on and the tequila continued to flow, your words became less coherent, but the feeling of being carefree and in the moment remained. And amidst the drunken banter and endless giggles, the truth about Jude slipped out in the most vague and blissfully honest way possible. You two were absolutely housed. Whitney weighed exactly nothing, you, maybe a pound or two more than nothing. It wasn’t a hard task.
“Come on, drunk girl. Let’s go.” Trent sang coming into the kitchen wrapping his arms around Whitney. He lifted her effortlessly in his arms.The night spun faster as you struggled to maintain your own balance alone. Whitney wrapped herself around him ready for him to carry her to bed.
“Don’t you think Y/N should fuck Jude again?” Whitney slurred nuzzling into him. She had completely forgotten your sly insinuation after you had come up from the beach earlier.
“Yeah, baby. I think they’ll decide that though. Might’ve already happened, alright?” Trent gently spoke to her, shooting you a wink that made you laugh. ‘Such a gossip’ You mouthed to him. Trent took care of her and sometimes you envied having that person in your life. Whitney wanted that and you were fairly sure you didn’t but every so often it would ping in your chest maybe you just must’ve.
“Are you gonna fuck me, T baby?” Whitney slurred again, asking Trent as she kissed his neck like you weren’t there anymore.
“Nah, you and me are going to go have a cuddle.” Trent laughed, running his hand over her hair whilst trying to create some distance between them. “You’re good?” He cooed gently to you with a smile, watching you inflict a worse hangover on yourself finishing the rest of Whitney’s drink.
“All good. Thanks, T.” You smiled before heading down the hall very obviously towards Jude’s room and away from yours. Trent only able to laugh. The way Trent cared for Whitney with such tenderness and attention was maybe something you longed for, though you were unsure if you would ever allow yourself to truly desire it. It was a bittersweet realization. You watched them with a mix of admiration and longing, feeling the weight of your own unresolved desires. The Grecian air was still warm through the house as you stumbled into Jude's room, your head swimming with the dangerous mix of wine and tequila. The villa was dimly lit, the soft glow of the moon casting long shadows across the marble floors. You were giddy, feeling the alcohol loosen your limbs and lower your inhibitions. Jude had told you to go wait in his bed, a suggestion that seemed anything but innocent. You didn't think much of it as you peeled off your clothes, leaving a trail from the door to his bed. You stared in a mirror and sighed, catching a glimpse of yourself. You hope you looked good enough for him. Your momentary self reflection was short lived as you started laughing. Who were you kidding? He was lucky to have you in his bed. You took more than good care of yourself so you drunkenly skipped over to the bed with confidence and slipped under the covers, your bare skin immediately cooled by the soft sheets. Your head spun, but you felt comforted by the familiar scent of Jude on the pillow beside you. It smelled like a mix of salt, from the ocean air, and something distinctly him—a combination of woodsy cologne and sun-warmed skin. You curled up into a ball, letting the exhaustion take over. A bit later, Jude entered the room, a soft smile pulling at his lips as he saw you already nestled in his bed, asleep, your hair fanned out on his pillow. You looked so peaceful, your face relaxed in a way he rarely saw. He chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head. It was a sight he wouldn't have expected to find tonight, but there you were-completely naked and unapologetically in his space. He quietly got ready for bed, brushing his teeth and washing the last remnants of the night off his face. When he slid into bed next to you, he kissed you all over carefully. He wrapped his arms around you, feeling your soft, warm body press against his. You stirred slightly, your eyes fluttering open as you felt the weight of his arms around you. In your sleepy haze you were grabbing for more of him.
“Alright, c’mere.” Jude cooed softly with a breathy laugh and a kiss to your temple pulling you into him all the more. You were a clingy drunk and Jude had amplified it. Usually you used to push for drunk sex and you did with him that first night but you also just wanted him to hold you now
"Jude?" You murmured, your voice laced with sleep. “You took so long.” You pouted, smushing your face into his warm chiseled chest.
"Yeah, it's me.” He whispered back, his hand gently rubbing your back. You nuzzled closer to him, your lips brushing against his bare chest as you did. “I’m sorry, I’m here now, angel. Were you waiting for me?” He smuggly grinned loving the fact that you had been and you were so cuddly with him now because of it. He had just stayed up a bit later playing a few games of cards with some of the boys. It wasn’t actually that much later, you were just drunk.
“Yeah.” You said sadly with a dramatic frown. Jude was enjoying this. It was adorable, you showing him an incredibly more vulnerable side. “I wanted a kiss.” You confessed holding your pout. Your drunkenness allowing your true want to come spilling out. Your words slurring slightly from the alcohol and the sleep.
“Well you can come get one, baby. C’mere. I wanted a kiss too.” He cooed with a breathy laugh. His heart swelled at your admission. You seemed to always be so guarded, so careful to keep your emotions hidden away. But here, in this quiet, intimate moment, you were letting yourself be vulnerable with him. He tightened his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
“Too tired now.” You barely got out a whisper as sleep began to take over.
“Oh, okay.” He laughed more out right, wrapping his arms tightly around you. “I’m sorry. You can have a kiss whenever you want though. So you can get one whenever.” He smiled, pressing his lips to your hair once more. His voice was a low rumble in the dark room. You laid there in silence for a while, just holding each other, the rhythm of your breathing slowly syncing up. But then, from down the hall, you heard the unmistakable sounds of someone else in the villa having sex. Your eyes snapped open, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. You didn’t recognize the noise coming from down the hall though. You knew it wasn’t Whitney and Trent, unfortunately you knew that sound better than you’d like to. You glanced up at Jude, your mind suddenly connecting the dots.
“Wait you wanted to have sex.” You frowned feeling incredibly bad you let sleep and too much tequila probably derail what Jude thought he was walking into. You were trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. You felt horribly being in his bed now, like you should leave immediately.
“It’s okay, angel.” Jude chuckled, his chest vibrating under your cheek. You didn’t feel fully convinced. Your drunken mind twisted his words, making you feel insecure. You frowned, feeling a twinge of rejection.
“You don’t want to have sex with me?” You asked embarrassed and saddened. Jude watched your facial expression break, feeling hurt by his words. His heart ached reading your inner thoughts that were plastered across your face. He could hear your voice almost shake, the way you were almost pleading for him to want you. Jude immediately shook his head, his thumb brushing across your cheek.
“I do, trust me I really do but tomorrow.” He laughed very sure he would’ve liked that but Jude still wasn’t crazy knowing that you hadn’t remembered the first time. “I just want a cuddle from you. Do you want to have a cuddle with me?” He gently lifted your chin so you would look at him, his expression soft and sincere. You nodded. It did ping in your head that this was thoughtful just in the way Trent was to Whitney earlier but it was a fleeting thought. You were too drunk to hold onto it. “Thank you for getting naked for me though, that was really nice of you.” Jude laughed rubbing his hands over your body.
“I wanted you to like me.” You mumbled against his warm skin earnestly. You really felt like that was the only way he would like you.
“I like you with or without clothes.” Jude cooed with that same ache returning from before. His voice firm but kind. He didn’t like that, drunk or not, how you thought that was the only way he would like you.
“Really?” You meekly asked, picking your head up. You rested your chin on his chest. A sleepy smile pulling on your lips.
“Yeah. Course hard not to.” He told you honestly, kissing your forehead.
“I like you.” You unexpectedly admitted to him through your haze. Jude smiled more than happy hearing it, even though a part of him already knew it. You had tried to walk out of it on the beach but he knew it wasn’t in a ‘fun friend way.’
“I know. C’mere Angel.” He cooed, pulling you into a tight embrace, you were securely wrapped in his arms as if Jude could shield you from the world. Maybe Whitney was right. He was nicer than you thought. He swayed your body back and forth with his. He could feel you relax against him, your breathing evening out as you started to drift back to sleep. He pressed another kiss to your head, his heart swelling with affection. He was determined to show you that you didn't need to put up a front with him, that you were enough just as you were. And as he closed his eyes, holding you close, he knew he'd do whatever it took to prove that to you. Jude liked you a lot, more than he even thought. You’d been glued together the whole holiday. He wasn’t sure how to manage this and neither were you. Jude thought he’d see the trip out. You were attempting to keep your distance but failing miserably when he came up behind you in the kitchen pinning you against the counter top.
“You want to sit next to me for the movie?” Jude whispered to you, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. An unforeseen rainstorm shook up previous evening plans, the night shifting to an impromptu movie night.
“Depends. How close do I get to be to you?” You cooed trying to fight back a giggle feeling his hands run up and down your sides dragging your top up with his big hands.
“We can share a blanket. Can be however close you want.” Jude smiled, his lips curling against your skin. You pushed your back into his chest, Jude subtly peppering small kisses behind your ear for no one but you to notice.
“Perfect…” You cooed, keeping your eyes fixed ahead on the microwave. A bag of popcorn spinning around as you listened to the kernels pop inside. “And when the lights go out and my hands wander, is that going to be okay?” You asked Jude with a pur. You tilted your head to the side to give him more access to your neck.
“I’d encourage it, mine are.” Jude cooed, letting his hands wrap around you entirely. They dropped down your stomach to come and play with the drawstring on your shorts. A shiver ran up your spine with the microwave beginning to beep dragging you out from the moment of sheer bliss feeling Judes hands on you. The living room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering screen as a movie played out in front of you all. The large, comfortable couch was crowded with friends, everyone lounging with drinks in hand, half-watching the film and half-whispering in quiet conversations. You and Jude were sitting together on one end of the couch, your bodies intertwined under the blanket Jude promised. The night had been filled with laughter and teasing, but now, in the softness of the late hour, there was a fragile tension between you. You felt the warmth of Jude almost beneath you. The movie droned on, but your mind was elsewhere—on the way his arm rested around your shoulders, his fingers slowly stroking your skin. Jude could feel the heat radiating from your skin. His heart seemed to beat a little faster whenever you shifted, brushing against him even more. You glanced at him, catching the subtle way his eyes flicked toward you before quickly returning to the screen. You had been so courageous in the kitchen but now surrounded by everyone else under the warm blue light of the screen, despite the cover of the blanket, you felt more exposed than ever. You were nervous on how to navigate this. It wasn’t the physical touch that made you nervous but the comfort you felt with him. Somehow this public cuddle felt far more intimate than sex. It was a dance, this game of touches and stolen glances, a wordless conversation filled with question marks and ellipses. The anticipation was electric, crackling in the small space between you. As the movie rolled on, Jude shifted slightly, his arm moving in what seemed like a casual gesture at first but he was throwing caution to the wind. He wanted you closer to him. He gripped your arm and pulled you into him with a hum. It sent a rush of warmth through you. You were so thankful he made the move. Your heart thudded in your chest as you leaned against his chest feeling the strength and warmth of him even through the fabric of his shirt. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you couldn’t focus on anything but the feel of his hand resting against you, the quiet weight of it grounding you in this tender, tentative moment. You leaned into him more, enough to send a clear message. Jude responded in kind, his body relaxing into your, his fingers tracing small, gentle circles on your skin. The touch was soft, almost shy, as if he was testing your reaction, afraid to push too far, but eager to deepen the connection. Your head found its way to rest against his chest. His heartbeat was steady and strong beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm that made you feel safe, as though you were in your own little world, separate from the rest of the group. You could feel the rise and fall of his breath, the way it seemed to catch slightly when you moved, the way it synced with your own.
“What’s happening?” One of the boys asked, breaking the spell as they tried to follow the plot of the movie. You lifted your head slightly, still close to Jude but now aware of the world around you again. You hadn’t been paying attention to the screen at all, lost in the quiet, courageous touches you were exchanging. Jude’s hand stilled on you, dragging your body tighter into him, inadvertently and unintentionally protecting you from reality.
“Honestly, no idea,” Jude said softly, his voice low, meant only for you to hear. His breath was warm against your temple, and the sound of his voice so close made your heart skip. You smiled, your lips brushing against the fabric of his shirt.
“Me neither.” You whispered back, your hand moving to rest lightly on his chest, just over his heart. “But I think I like this better.” Jude’s arm tightened slightly around you, a subtle but unmistakable affirmation.
“Yeah.” He murmured, his lips grazing your hair, the touch so light you almost thought you imagined it. “Me too.” He cooed. You stayed like that, wrapped in the tender warmth of each other, the movie long forgotten as you cuddled closer, the touches growing less tentative, more confident. Jude’s hand slipped down your arm, his fingers intertwined with yours, holding you close in a way that felt both protective and intimate. You began to doze off after the movie ended, comforted by him. The boys had queued up the sequel, all of them entranced by a film series getting lost in the next movie. It was well into the morning, the rain had long gone and you were practically on top of Jude at this point. “Going to sleep, angel?” Jude whispered to you.
“Hmmm? What is this the 4th?” You asked Jude after you heard the theme music for the series began again.
“Nah, only the third.” He whispered kissing your temple with a cheeky smile watching you cuddling up to him more. “Want me to bring you to my room?” Jude offered.
“No, I just want to stay right here. Is that okay?” You asked him quietly, not able to even pick your head up, you were so tired. You were exhausted but you were so cozy with him you didn’t want to be apart. Not even a bed could be better.
“Yeah, course, you’re good, angel.” He smiled, pulling you tighter to him, resting his chin on your head after a subtle kiss. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep completely in Jude’s arms as the third movie rolled on.
“Judey, Judey, Judeyy.” Whitney teased from across the room. She sat up in Trent’s arms with a smug smile. As she sang the nickname that bothered him so much poking fun at Jude’s affection towards you it pinged in his head that he really didn’t mind when you had said it just the same earlier. He flipped her off and put his arm back around you where he wanted it.
•
🪩🫶❤️🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️🔥🫶🪩
Next part - Chapter 3 - Mr. Madrid xx
#jude bellingham fanfic#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham smut#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham
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Dreams Come True
Chapter 5: Stalker
summary: you and vi try to discuss what your relationship is now and how this should work, but it was interrupted by a blue-haired girl.
mentions: fluff, pathetic!vi, fame!au, modern!au, kissing, groping, stalking (saesangs), violence, choking (not by vi tho 😔)
notes : i did this while sick and on my period. it has not been proofread 😭. love yall 🫵🩷 im also resetting my taglist for this so if you want to be tagged for the next chapter comment!
The sun hung low in the sky, its golden rays spilling across the bustling streets as you and Mel stepped out of the practice studio. Your legs ached from the grueling rehearsal, but Mel’s persistent prodding about getting ice cream had finally worn you down. She strolled beside you, her duffle bag slung lazily over her shoulder, an almost mischievous grin plastered across her face.
The bell above the shop door chimed softly as you entered, the cool air inside offering a sweet reprieve from the lingering afternoon heat. The scent of freshly baked waffle cones filled the air, mingling with the bright, sugary notes of the various ice cream flavors on display. The shop was quaint and cozy, with pastel-colored walls and little booths tucked into corners.
After some debate, you both settled on your orders—Mel opting for a double scoop of chocolate fudge brownie while you stuck with a classic strawberry swirl. Finding a table by the window, the two of you slid into the booth, the faint chatter of other patrons blending into the background.
“So,” Mel began, her spoon poised above her ice cream as she leaned in slightly, “are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to pry it out of you?”
You gave her a confused look, though you knew exactly where this was heading. “Tell you what?” you replied, feigning innocence as you took a bite of your ice cream.
“Oh, don’t play dumb with me,” she teased, narrowing her eyes. “Vi. You two were all cozy at the club, and now you’re walking around with this dreamy little smile on your face. Spill it.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the blush creeping up your cheeks. “There’s nothing to spill,” you said, shrugging. “We haven’t confirmed anything yet.”
Mel’s spoon clattered against the side of her bowl as she gasped dramatically. “Yet? So, you’re telling me there’s a ‘yet.’ What does that mean? Did you two talk? Kiss? Make declarations of undying love under the moonlight?”
“Mel!” you hissed, though you couldn’t help but laugh at her theatrics. “Okay, fine. Yes, we talked. And... we might have said ‘I love you.’”
Her jaw dropped, and for a moment, she just stared at you in disbelief before breaking into a wide grin. “Oh my God, you’re back together, aren’t you?”
You shook your head. “No, not yet. It’s... complicated. We’re figuring things out.”
Mel’s teasing expression softened slightly as she leaned back in her seat. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re giving her another chance. You two were kind of disgustingly perfect together.”
You rolled your eyes again but smiled, a small, hopeful feeling blooming in your chest. As you sat there, sharing laughs and finishing your ice cream, you realized how much you’d missed moments like these—simple, carefree, and filled with the warmth of friendship. For now, that was enough.
The peaceful moment in the ice cream shop was abruptly interrupted by a loud knock on the window. Startled, you and Mel both turned your heads toward the sound. Outside stood a small group of fans, their excited faces pressed against the glass. Some of them had phones in hand, already snapping pictures.
You smiled politely and gave a small wave, as did Mel, though her grin was a bit tighter. “Guess we’ve got some fans in the neighborhood,” she murmured, trying to sound casual.
At first, it didn’t seem too serious—just a few people recognizing the two of you and sharing their enthusiasm. But as the seconds ticked by, the crowd began to grow. More people gathered outside, camera flashes illuminating the window in quick bursts. Their murmurs grew louder, and some started knocking again, calling out your name.
You exchanged a concerned look with Mel, who quickly glanced toward the door. “I don’t like this,” you admitted, lowering your voice. “It’s getting out of hand.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Mel replied, scanning the shop. “Let’s get out of here.”
You hastily placed cash on the table to cover the bill, grabbed your bag, and reached for Mel’s hand. Together, you ducked toward the back exit, keeping your heads low to avoid drawing even more attention. The two of you slipped through the rear door into the parking lot, your steps quickening as you approached Mel’s car.
Once inside, Mel made sure to lock the doors immediately. You glanced nervously over your shoulder as you spotted some of the fans spilling into the lot, their phones held high as they rushed toward the car. “They’re taking pictures of your license plate,” you said in a hushed voice, your stomach knotting.
“Not for long,” Mel muttered, her hands steady on the steering wheel as she started the car. She pulled out of the parking lot, her jaw set in determination. The fans ran after the car for a few seconds, some shouting and continuing to record. Mel turned onto a side street, taking back routes she clearly knew well.
The tension in the car was palpable as she zigzagged through the unfamiliar streets, checking the rearview mirror every few seconds. After what felt like an eternity, she finally let out a breath. “Okay, I think we lost them.”
Your own sigh of relief filled the car as you leaned back against the seat. The adrenaline was still coursing through you, making your heart pound. “Holy shit, that was intense,” you said, shaking your head. “We just debuted... I didn’t think we were that popular.”
Mel laughed nervously, her hands still gripping the wheel tightly. “Yeah, I thought we had some time before all this crazy fan stuff started. Guess not.”
You looked out the window, trying to process what had just happened. Your thoughts were interrupted as Mel’s voice pulled you back to the present. “Where should I drop you off?” she asked, her tone steady but still tinged with concern.
You gave her the address to Vi’s apartment, leaning back in your seat and letting out a sigh. “Make sure you change your license plate as soon as possible,” you added, your voice slightly strained from the earlier chaos.
Mel nodded with a small grin. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it handled. No way I’m letting some overly excited fans track me down.”
When you arrived at Vi’s apartment, you thanked Mel and watched her car pull away before heading upstairs. You still had the key Vi gave you, so you let yourself in. The familiar creak of the door echoed in the apartment, and you were immediately greeted by the sight of Vi sprawled lazily on the couch, a bag of Doritos in one hand and a Dr. Pepper can in the other. She was watching The Boys with the volume high, her focus on a particularly dramatic scene.
Hearing the door, she turned her head and smirked when she saw you. “Hey, hot stuff. Sit down,” she said casually, patting the empty spot on the couch beside her.
You couldn’t help but smile as you set your bag down and joined her. “Aren’t hockey players supposed to be on diets? You’re eating Doritos and drinking Dr. Pepper,” you teased, gesturing at the junk food scattered on the coffee table.
Vi chuckled, shrugging as she took another sip of soda. “Well, I’m not an idol, am I? And besides, I need the calories. Helps me bulk up, and you like that, don’t you?” she teased back, giving you a playful wink.
You rolled your eyes, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”
The moment was interrupted by a notification on your phone. Your smile faded as you opened it to find a TMZ article detailing your earlier encounter at the ice cream shop with Mel. The headline was bold and dramatic, emphasizing how close you and Mel came to being trampled by a growing crowd of fans.
Vi immediately noticed the change in your expression. “What’s wrong?” she asked, leaning over to grab your phone before you could stop her. Her brows furrowed as she read the headline, her expression shifting to concern. “You almost got attacked by fans?”
You shook your head, trying to downplay it. “We didn’t, so it’s okay. It’s normal… I just didn’t think it was gonna happen so soon,” you admitted, your voice quieter than usual.
Vi placed your phone down and turned her full attention to you. “Baby, your group’s account has over 12 million followers across Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok combined. Of course, you’re popular,” she said matter-of-factly. Her tone softened as she added, “You should probably get a bodyguard.”
You let out a small sigh, leaning back against the couch. “I didn’t think I’d need one this early on. I just want to enjoy things like going out for ice cream, you know? Without all… that.”
Vi reached out, taking your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I get it. But your safety comes first, okay? We’ll figure it out.”
The next few weeks settled into a comfortable routine: you and Vi alternating between each other's apartments to talk, cuddle, have sex, and then cuddle again before practice. It was a rhythm that felt natural, almost like you were already in a relationship—but Vi hadn’t asked you to be her girlfriend, nor had she even hinted at it. The silence on that front gnawed at you, and today you decided to finally bring it up.
When you unlocked the door to Vi’s apartment, ready to address the question head-on, you were greeted by an unexpected sight. Standing in the middle of the living room was a tall, elegant woman with striking blue hair. Her posture was effortless, exuding a kind of natural grace that instantly caught your attention. The two of you locked eyes for what felt like an eternity before Vi appeared from the hallway, her usual confident grin plastered across her face.
“Hey, baby,” Vi greeted casually as she walked up, slinging an arm around the woman’s shoulder. “This is my friend Caitlyn. We’re gonna be modeling together for Vogue.”
You looked between Vi and Caitlyn, your mind scrambling to process what you were seeing. Caitlyn was stunning, her poise and beauty making her seem almost unreal. When she extended her hand for a handshake, it was with the kind of grace that made even that simple gesture look elegant.
“Hi, I’m Caitlyn. I’m an ice skater,” she said, her voice smooth and polite.
You accepted the handshake, your own movements feeling stiff in comparison. “Hi, I’m (Y/N),” you replied, your voice steady despite the sudden tightness in your chest.
Caitlyn’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, I knew you looked familiar! You’re from the group AURORA. You look even prettier in person,” she said with an easy smile.
“Oh, thank you,” you managed, forcing a polite smile in return. Your eyes darted to Vi, searching her face for any kind of explanation or acknowledgment of how awkward this felt.
Before you could say anything else, you tried to speak, “Hey, can we talk in priv—” but Vi cut you off by leaning in and kissing you. Her hand casually slid to your ass, giving it a quick squeeze before she pulled back.
“I’m sorry, but I gotta go,” Vi said nonchalantly, as if the entire situation was completely normal. She grabbed her things and started heading toward the door. “We’ve got interviews and stuff downtown, so I’ll just be staying with Ellie and Abby in their penthouse for the week.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but Vi barely gave you the chance. “I love you,” she said casually over her shoulder as she opened the door, holding it for Caitlyn to follow her out.
And then they were gone.
You stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the closed door in stunned silence. The sound of the lock clicking into place felt deafening in the otherwise quiet apartment. Confusion churned in your mind as you tried to piece together what had just happened.
Vi’s words echoed in your head. I love you. Yet she’d just left you standing here, no explanation, no conversation about the questions you’d been holding onto for weeks. All of it—her sudden departure, the presence of Caitlyn, and the way she’d brushed off your attempt to talk—left a bitter taste in your mouth. You couldn’t help but wonder: was this love, or was it just convenience?
Hours of stress cleaning had left Vi’s apartment spotless, every surface shining like new. Yet despite your efforts to distract yourself, your thoughts remained restless. Finally, you decided you couldn’t stay there any longer. You changed into one of Vi’s oversized hoodies, the familiar scent bringing a small measure of comfort, and grabbed your bag before heading out the door.
Instead of going straight home, you decided to stop by a nearby burger joint. Your stomach grumbled, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten all day. Once inside, you ordered a burger and fries to go, leaning against the counter as you waited. The minutes dragged on, but eventually, your order number was called. You thanked the cashier, grabbing the bag with a polite smile before heading back to your car.
As you approached your car, keys in hand, a tall man suddenly stepped into your path. His presence was unnerving, but his expression didn’t immediately raise any alarms.
“You’re (Y/N) from AURORA, right?” he asked, his tone overly enthusiastic. “I’m a really big fan. Can I have an autograph?”
You forced a polite smile, trying to keep things cordial. “I’m sorry, I’m kinda busy right now,” you said, hoping he’d take the hint.
But he didn’t. Instead, he stepped closer, his demeanor shifting from eager to insistent. “Come on, just a quick one. It’ll only take a second,” he pressed.
Before you could respond, his eyes drifted to the hoodie you were wearing, his expression darkening. His nostrils flared as he caught the faint scent of cologne clinging to the fabric. Without warning, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist tightly, making you drop the bag of food.
“What man were you with?!” he demanded, his voice seething with anger. “I thought I watched you carefully enough!”
Panic surged through you as you tried to pull away. “Sir, I don’t know who you are! Please let go of me!” you pleaded, your voice trembling.
His grip tightened, and before you could react, his hand moved to your throat, squeezing with terrifying force. You clawed at his arm, gasping for air, your vision starting to blur.
“Sir, please…” you choked out, your voice barely audible.
His expression twisted with rage. “If I can’t have you, no one can,” he growled, his grip unrelenting.
Just as the edges of your vision began to go dark, you felt the pressure on your neck suddenly release. You collapsed to the ground, gasping for air and clutching at your bruised throat. Blinking through tears, you saw the man being yanked backward and slammed to the ground.
The commotion drew a crowd, and amidst the chaos, you caught sight of your rescuer. Recognition flickered as you realized it was Ekko, Jinx’s boyfriend. His face was steely with anger as he held the man down, delivering a punch to keep him subdued.
Moments later, Jinx appeared, rounding the corner in search of Ekko. Her eyes widened in horror as she took in the scene: Ekko restraining the man on the ground, and you, sitting on the pavement with a large bruise forming around your neck.
“Oh my god, (Y/N)!” Jinx yelled, rushing toward you. She pushed through the small crowd of onlookers, waving them off as she knelt beside you. “Are you okay? The cops are on their way,” she said, her voice full of worry as she helped you to your feet.
You tried to nod, but the effort was too much. The adrenaline draining from your body left you weak and unsteady, and the edges of your vision blurred again. You immediately fell back on to the ground, Jinx caught you as she held you carefully. The last thing you heard was Jinx calling your name before everything went black.
chapters: one, two, christmas special, three, four , five
edit announcement: it’s a double upload today so expect chapter 6 in a few hours!
#arcane#arcane fandom#arcane fanfic#arcane season one#arcane act 3#arcane season 2#vi fanfic#vi headcanons#idol#hockey players#vi x you#vi arcane#vi x reader#vi fluff#vi angst#vi fanart#vi fic#ekko arcane#the boy savior#jinx arcane#jinx x ekko#timebomb#lesbians
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“goo goo muck.” — vamp! elvis x reader
note: happy halloween y'all! / warning: elvis is a…vampire! religious themes, mentions of the occult, death, violence, blood and biting (obvi), dub-con, p in v sex, no protection, fingering, mirror sex (you can see elvis though!). / summary: his bloodlust is getting harder to control, especially when he sees you late one night.
October 31st, 1970.
“Well when the sun goes down and the moon comes up.”
Vampires. Such a childish thing to believe in Dracula and Nosferatu, even that Vampira gal, foolish and inaccurate depictions. Hellish, bloodthirsty creatures, kings and queens of the night, seductive and sinful. How perfect that Elvis Presley was a vampire.
Halloween was a day that went by with little recognition, Elvis had never celebrated it when he was a kid course’ if any kids decided to make their way to Graceland he’d give em’ candy and had taken Lisa trick or treating a few times before the divorce- but other than that nothing. It was a particularly lonely day, nothing going on, no plans, but he had hoped for that. Certain days were better than others, he could contain his thirst for long periods of time- raw meat did him wonders, but every now and then he’d get that feeling that he couldn’t quite push away- that urge to just pull someone off the street and drink them dry. He hated it with every ounce of his being, he knew that if he were to die, a fate worse than eternal damnation would follow him- still, he prayed to God every night for forgiveness, begging for any kind of comfort from his savior.
As the hours ticked by and the night grew darker, Elvis found himself restless. The hunger gnawed at him, a constant reminder of his cursed existence. He paced the halls of Graceland, his footsteps echoing through the empty rooms when a loud ringing filled his ears, the phone. Picking it up he cleared his throat, “Hello?”-- “EP! It’s Red, you oughta come out tonight with us, you can’t stay cooped up in there forever!” Red complained, before Elvis could even say anything more. “I ain’t feelin’ too well tonight-” Elvis started before being interrupted, “C’mon! Look, we’ll be down at the bar on Elm- me and the rest of the boys. It ain’t as fun without you.” Red said, the sound of loud drunken laughter coming from the background as Elvis let out a groan, his arm clutching his stomach gently as he looked outside, the sky deep shades of blue and purple, “Fine. I’ll be down in a few.” Elvis hung up the phone with a sigh, his stomach churning with the familiar pangs of hunger. He knew he should stay home, lock himself away until the cravings passed. But Red's insistence wore him down, and the prospect of a night out with his old friends was too tempting to resist.
He threw on a long black and red jacket and headed out into the cool October night. The streets were alive with Halloween revelers, their costumes a riot of colors and creativity. Elvis walked briskly, trying to hurry and get down there- which took a bit longer than usual since the amount of people on the street stopping and getting what they could from him. He regretted this immensely. He could smell it, hear the sound of their hearts beating in his ears- his stomach growling widely. Eventually he made it to the bar and was immediately engulfed in a cloud of cigarette smoke and the clamor of raucous laughter. Red and the boys were already several drinks deep, their faces flushed and eyes glossy. They greeted Elvis with hoots and hollers, slapping him on the back and pressing bottles of beer into his hands to which he only took one, he didn’t like drinking too much. Elvis forced a smile and took a seat at the table, his eyes scanning the room. That's when he saw you, sitting alone at the bar, nursing a whiskey sour. He could smell you. So strong. A deep floral scent, your heartbeat steady, he could even hear the blood coursing through your veins. Elvis' mouth watered, and he felt his fangs elongate in his mouth, pricking his tongue gently. Shit. He usually could control when and where they came out, but not right now, he couldn’t- “Whatcha’ lookin at EP?” Red asked, and Elvis jerked his head forward but he knew Red had seen him staring. “Ohh, I see. Go talk to her man, get some.” He nudged and Elvis’ jaw clenched, his gaze lingered on you, his eyes darkening with hunger and desire. He could see the way your pulse raced beneath your delicate skin, the way your breath quickened as he stared. He felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch you, to feel the warmth of your flesh beneath his fingers. But he hesitated, knowing the danger he posed to you. Instead, he downed his beer in one long gulp, hoping the alcohol might dull his senses and quiet his thirst. "Think I'll take a walk, clear my head," he muttered, rising from his seat. Red and the boys nodded, too caught up in their own drunken revelry to pay him much mind. Elvis made his way towards the exit, his steps purposeful and determined. He knew he should leave, put as much distance between himself and temptation as possible. But his feet carried him past the bar and straight to you instead. You could feel eyes on you and when you heard footsteps coming towards you you turned around to see him behind you. “Nice Elvis costume.” You smiled, studying the man that had approached you. Elvis laughed nervously, careful to try not to reveal too much of his mouth. “Ain’t a costume darlin’...” He shook his head, trying to ignore the way your hair fell, your pretty neck on full display. Letting out a choked sound you looked over him a few more times, “Holy shit.” You muttered under your breath but of course, Elvis heard it. “Mind if I sit with ya, honey?” He asks, knowing that he shouldn’t, knowing that the feeling in his stomach is only growing more noticeable and how horridly his fangs were pressing into his tongue. “Yeah, of course– Sorry, I just..” You stammered, wholeheartedly shocked that he would talk to you- or the fact that he was even out of the house, you hadn’t seen much of him in the papers since his divorce but he seemed to be doing fine despite looking a bit…tired? His eyes twinkled behind his sunglasses as they raked over you, drinking every bit of you in.
He sat down, moving gracefully. A smile plastered on his face as he motioned for the waiter to bring him a drink. “Lone on halloween?” He asks, making you snap back into what’s happening. “Huh? Oh, yeah- unfortunately.” You respond, moving your glass around in your hand, the ice clinking gently. Elvis' eyes gleamed in the dim light of the bar, his gaze intense and unwavering as he studied your face. "Well, that's a shame. A pretty little thing like you shouldn't be all alone on a night like this." He leaned in closer, his warmth radiating through the cool air between you. His voice was low and honeyed, sending a shiver down your spine despite the chill of the October night. You swallowed hard, suddenly acutely aware of how close he was, of the way his fingers tapped against the table. "I-I'm not usually alone, just this year it worked out that way..." You stuttered, trying to ignore the way your pulse raced at his proximity, at the way his eyes seemed to bore into your very soul, and he- he was hungry. It was getting much worse, your heartbeat was loud enough for him to hear it, and your smell. God. He couldn't get enough of it. Elvis breathed deeply, inhaling the intoxicating aroma of your blood singing in his veins. ‘Holy hell, what am I doing?’ he thought, desperately trying to control his raging thirst. His eyes flicked to your neck, transfixed by the pulsing rush of blood just beneath the surface. “Well that’s no good…I’m be more than happy ta’ give you some company. “ He smiles and you really can’t believe your ears. “I-I’d really like that ...thank you Mr.Presley.” You respond, dumbfounded. Elvis struggles not to smirk too wide, his fangs pressing into his tongue. His stomach growls unreasonably loud and he clears his throat, finding it impossible to ignore any longer. Maybe if he can just find someone real quick...”Scuse’ me honey…I’ll be right back.” Elvis got up abruptly, looking around the bar before making his way to the bathroom, leaving you at the table to babysit the drinks.
Elvis swung open the bathroom door, lunging himself at the sink and splashing a bit of water on his face before opening his mouth. His fangs had caused his mouth to bleed, the taste of iron filling his mouth, only aiding to his hunger. “Goddammit.” he whispered under his breath as the door flung open, a young man in a cheap werewolf costume stumbling in, his body swaying as he maneuvered his way to the sink beside Elvis. Elvis' fingers dug into the porcelain sink, his nails scraping against the smooth surface. He could see the way the man's blood vessels pulsed just beneath the surface of his skin. The man stumbled, his hand coming up to grip the edge of the sink as he swayed on his feet, his werewolf mask slipping slightly to reveal a pair of bloodshot eyes. Elvis' fangs ached, his gums throbbing with the need to sink them into warm, pulsing flesh. The man laughed, a slurred, drunken sound that sent shivers down Elvis' spine. "Man... you're freakin' the hell outta me!" The man stammered, his voice muffled by his mask. He reached up, tugging the mask off to reveal a face flushed with alcohol and sweat, his eyes wild and slightly crazed. Elvis swallowed hard, his throat clicking as he tried to force down the rising tide of thirst that threatened to consume him. “S-sorry my boy.” Elvis said, and the man almost fell down- Elvis caught him and helped him stand a little better but the man was obviously too drunk to even know where he was. “Here man, lets…lets sit ya’ down for a moment.” Elvis said, sitting down the man on the floor, he looked over to the bathroom door and thanked God there was a lock on it. Turning it he looked back at the man who was still giggling idiotically. “Man- You look stupid with those fuckin’ teeth in!” The man exclaimed and Elvis let out a low growl. God, this guy was insufferable. “Yeah, well I can get em’ to go away soon.” He said and the man shook his head letting out small hics before Elvis took a deep breath. Fuck, this guy didn’t smell half as good as you had, a pitiful drink this guy was gonna be. Elvis's nostrils flared as he leaned closer to the drunk man, inhaling deeply. The scent of cheap beer and cigarettes assaulted his senses, far less enticing than the sweet, floral aroma of the woman waiting for him back at the bar. But desperation was setting in, his hunger becoming more insistent with each passing second. "Shhh, it's alright son..." Elvis murmured, his hand coming to rest on the man's shoulder, feeling the prominent pulse point beneath his fingers. "Just relax now." The man's eyes were glazed and unfocused, too inebriated to comprehend the danger he was in. "Wh-what are you... ohh fuck..." He slurred, his words trailing off as Elvis's fingers dug into his shoulders, pinning him against the wall. Elvis's breathing became shallower, his chest constricting as the thirst raged within him.
With a low growl, he buried his face in the crook of the man's neck, his sharp teeth grazing the smooth skin. The drunk man let out a strangled gasp, his eyes widening in fear and confusion. "Wait... what... stop..." He choked out, struggling weakly against Elvis's iron grip. But it was no use. Elvis was far too strong, driven by a primal instinct that superseded all reason. With a swift, violent motion, he sank his fangs deep into the man's throat, piercing the delicate skin and plunging into the warm, pulsing blood beneath. The man screamed, a high-pitched, agonized sound that was cut short by the rush of blood filling his mouth. Elvis drank greedily, the coppery taste of the man's essence flooding his senses and momentarily quenching the fires of his thirst. The drunk man's struggles grew weaker, his body going limp in Elvis’ arms slowly draining him. Elvis had gotten good at this, drinking enough to keep him satisfied but not enough to kill them– do doubt the guy would be sick n’ sore but not dead. Elvis drank until there was nothing left, until the man's heartbeat faded to a distant, barely audible rhythm. Then, with a shudder, he pulled away, licking the crimson stain from his lips. The bathroom was eerily silent, the only sound the slow, rasping breathing of the dying man at his feet. Elvis stood up on shaky legs, his vision swimming as he stumbled towards the sink. He splashed cold water on his face, trying to clear the haze of bloodlust that clouded his mind. "Dear God..." He whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of horror and satisfaction. "Forgive me..." But even as he uttered the prayer, Elvis knew that there was no true repentance, no absolution for the monster he had become. He looked at the man, at the bruises forming around his neck, the eyes staring accusingly at him and he walked over to the man, placing a hand on his head and prayed that he would make a quick recovery.
The blood had left, but that pestilent feeling was still there- it always would be. With a shake of his head, he threw away the remnants of his impromptu bathroom sink cleanup and stepped back into the bar, his eyes immediately finding you still sitting at the table. God, you’re so beautiful he thought as he felt his eyes widen at the sight. His lips spread into a grin and he shook his head slightly, making his way back over to you- you had waited for him. “Sorry bout’ that, honey.” He says, sitting back down, noticing that you had already drunk your drink. “You wantin’ another?” He asks, pointing at your empty glass. “Ah, no I’m all good now– Actually, I think you should finish your drink and you give me that company you so kindly offered earlier.” Bold. He could tell that you were nervous, your heart was beating so fast…like a scared little lamb. “Well, I spose’ we can- I'll take ya to Graceland, how's that sound honey?” Elvis cood, taking his whiskey and drinking it in one quick gulp before sitting the glass down with a soft clink. “Sounds perfect.” You responded, standing up- Elvis hesitated for a moment studying you, how small. He towered over you. Smiling down at you Elvis motioned for you to follow him, the two of you starting out of the bar when Red drunkenly, “You be careful with that one, EP!” Which made the other boys laugh, Elvis promptly flipped them off and the two of you stepped outside. Elvis had not realized how late it had gotten, the streets were practically empty apart from the few teenagers who still roamed the streets. “You drive or walk, honey?” He asked, looking over at you. The wind had blown your hair, exposing your neck and he swallowed hard. His stomach wasn’t growling, his fangs not stabbing his lips, why did he feel so…hungry? “I walked– I don’t live far from here.” You said, looking over at him, he still looked so tired– his eyes masked behind those sunglasses. Why was he wearing them at night…just a quirk of his, you guessed. ”Alright honey, Graceland ain’t far either…let’s get goin.” Elvis guided you through the quiet streets of Memphis, the moon casting an eerie glow on the sidewalks. Despite the late hour, the air was still thick with the lingering humidity of a Southern October night. Your shoes clicked softly against the pavement as you walked beside him, the silence broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant sounds of late-night revelry in the distance. As you walked, Elvis's hand brushed against yours, sending a spark of electricity through your body. You jumped slightly, startled by the contact, but his touch lingered, warm and reassuring. He gave you a sideways glance, his sunglasses hiding his eyes but his smile evident even in the darkness."Cold?" he asked, his drawl more pronounced in the quiet of the night. “Just a bit…” You responded, holding your arms together, your cheap ass ‘costume’ which really was just a flimsy sparkly dress did very little to keep you warm. “Here honey.” He said, stopping and pulling off his coat, handing it to you. Hesitating you looked up at him, he looked…really good. His arms looked nice and strong, and that white undershirt fit him perfectly. “You gonna take it?” He drawled, shaking the coat in front of your face before you took it, marveling at how heavy it was. “Thanks…” You replied and Elvis nodded. He seemed a bit distant, like something was bothering him, did he not want to take you back to his place anymore? Had he already lost interest?
Elvis watched as you slipped on his coat, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. The fabric enveloped you like a warm embrace, the collar engulfing your delicate neck. You looked so small and fragile wrapped up in his coat, the sleeves drowning your tiny hands. Like a little doll he could just pick up and carry away. In a way, he was. Taking you to his home, knowing that the gnaw in his stomach was starting to come back, knowing that your smell was enough to drive him insane. How irresponsible he was. As Graceland came into view Elvis watched you longneck to see more of it– he chuckled to himself as the gates opened allowing the two of you in. The grand gates of Graceland creaked open as Elvis led you onto the sprawling estate grounds. Elvis placed a hand on your lower back, guiding you up the long, winding driveway. The warm glow of the mansion's exterior lights cast eerie shadows across the lawn. As you reached the front door, Elvis turned to face you, his shades reflecting your wide-eyed expression. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Welcome to my little slice of paradise, darlin'," he murmured. "Something tells me you're gonna fit right in here." His hand left your back and grabbed the doorknob, the heavy wooden door swinging open to reveal the lavish interior. Plush carpets and ornate furnishings greeted you. Elvis gestured for you to enter before following behind. The door slammed shut, making you jump and the air seemed to press down on you from all sides. Elvis watched you intently, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. “Now, I’d say it’s warm enough for me ta’ take that coat back from ya honey.” Elvis coos, sliding his coat off of you and placing it on the rack, looking around the house you feel a bit tense, it's quiet but comfortable– but being alone with Elvis still makes you a bit uneasy. “How about…you an’ I head upstairs huh?” He asks, taking off his sunglasses and placing them on a small table beside the stairs, his baby blues hiding something dark. "Upstairs?" you ask hesitantly, sudden butterflies swarming in your belly. Upstairs meant privacy, intimacy. Away from prying eyes and judging ears. Away from any chance of rescue or interruption.
Elvis took your hand, leading you up the stairs. He began to feel a bit dizzy, the scent coming off of you much stronger now, clearing his throat he stopped at the top of the stairs and motioned for you to go on. “You go on ta’ my room, honey. I’ll be there in a second.” Elvis' heart races as he watches you disappear down the opulent hallway, the sway of your hips hypnotic. He leans heavily against the banister, fingers curling into the polished wood. This is madness. He knows it. But the hunger, the craving, it consumes him. The scent trailing from your skin is like a siren's song, luring him ever closer to the rocks. "Dammit." He curses under his breath, voice strangled. He runs a hand through his slicked back hair, black locks falling over his forehead. Sweat trickles down his neck despite the cool air. He straightens up, square shoulders back, determination set in his jaw. Elvis strides down the hallway, the click of his shoes echoing off the hardwood floors.At his bedroom door, he pauses, hand hovering over the golden doorknob. He takes a deep breath, centering himself. He couldn’t help it. Not anymore. As he opened the door he saw you facing away, your gaze fixated on what was on the vanity in his room. He had entered quietly, whether he meant too or not. He walked slowly towards you, his heart pounding, his stomach growling and his fangs drawing blood from his own lips. Moving with gentle swiftness he was right behind you and you didn’t even know. You didn't even know. Elvis took a moment to appreciate the view before him. Your delicate frame, small in comparison to his own imposing figure. The way your dark hair tumbled down your back, framing your pale neck. The way your dress hugged your curves perfectly.. His mouth watered at the sight, his fangs elongating, staining his bottom lip with crimson drops of blood. He reached out a trembling hand, running his fingers along your shoulder. Your skin was so soft, so warm. Like silk caressing his worn, calloused flesh. Slowly, almost reverently, he trailed his fingers down your arm, feeling you shiver beneath his touch. “E-Elvis…you scared me.” You breathed, something was wrong, you felt…scared. His other hand gripped your hip, pulling you flush against him. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, seeping into his own cold, dead flesh. It was intoxicating, addictive, and he wanted more. Oh, how he wanted more. Elvis' head dipped, his nose brushing along the shell of your ear. "Ya smell so good, darlin'. So sweet." he whispered hoarsely, his breath ghosting over your skin. His fangs grazed your earlobe, nipping gently and drawing a gasp from you. “Elvis…?” You whimpered, and he let out a moan. What was he doing? Elvis didn’t even know. You could feel his heart beating against your back, his mouth slowly opening then shutting against your flesh, small pricks of something sharp threatening to break through your skin. Elvis’ mouth moved along your neck and you shivered, his grip on you was strong enough to leave bruises you were sure. “Gonna be okay honey..” Elvis groaned, finding the sweet spot on your neck making your knees buckle but he kept holding you up. His hands moved from your hips roughly to cup your breasts, that flimsy dress doing very little to conceive them. He could hear you breathing much heavier now, your heart beating so fast, your smell getting stronger. Just…a …little…more…
Your body involuntarily thrashed against him, but your arms stayed pushed against the side of vanity, unable to let go, unable to move– it was like you were frozen. Elvis moved quickly, his face still nuzzled into your neck, his lips trailing feverous kisses along your skin. You felt yourself melting into his touch, his hands groping you and rolling your nipples between his fingers. The mirror in front of you showing it all. His hand moved to the top, taking a hold of the straps in his hand he tore them, the dress falling down with ease. You were shaking, shaking so badly. Elvis loved it, as you began to speak he moved his hands to grip your hair, jerking your head back real hard so that your neck was on full display. Looking at him from the mirror your chest heaved as you caught sight of his face, eyes blown and wide, muscles strained and mouth hanging opening, pearly white fangs protruding from his mouth and just inches from your skin. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the mirror, how foolish you felt– stripped naked only in your panties from one motion, hair jerked back and body frozen in place. “Only gonna hurt for a second honey…” Elvis groans before kissing your neck softly, his mouth opening as his teeth slowly pricked through your skin, small drops of blood already forming. Elvis shuddered violently as the first coppery taste of your blood flooded his mouth. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy, sharp fangs slicing deeper into your tender flesh. The pain made you cry out, struggling weakly against his iron hold. "Shhh, it's alright darlin'," Elvis purred thickly around a mouthful of your essence, "Just relax 'n let it happen. Let me in." One hand released your hair to stroke soothingly down your side, trying to placate your panicked thrashing. The other remained wrapped around you, keeping that perfect bite aligned. He swallowed deeply, savoring your unique flavor before finally pulling back. Crimson drops welled from the punctures, spilling down the graceful column of your throat to dampen your heaving breasts. It was the most delicious sight Elvis had ever beheld. His body vibrated with pure primal lust. With a growl, he spun you around to face him. You felt weak, your head was dizzy and you struggled to breath– but something felt…odd. Your heart was beating alarmingly fast and you could feel something flowing through your veins. Suddenly, almost in an instant your body collected itself, the dizziness fading and you felt more alive than you ever had been, your neck stung as you placed a hand on it, feeling a sizzling pain as the wound faded away. Elvis grabbed you by your shoulder with a growl, forcing you forward, bending you over the vanity. “F-fuck…” He whimpered as he pulled down your painties to your ankles, your puffy cunt on full display. “So…perfect…” He whispered as two fingers plunged their way inside of you before you could begin to protest.
Your breath caught in your throat as Elvis' moved inside of you. Shockwaves of pleasure coursed through you, making your knees buckle and vision swim. It was almost too much to handle at once. Elvis seemed to sense your overwhelmed state. "Easy darling, breathe through it," he coaxed roughly, fingers still pumping steadily. "Gonna get this tight little cunt ready for my cock." Each press and curl made the fire building in your core flash higher. Your eyes squeezed shut, lower lip caught between your teeth as you fought to stay upright against the vanity. The scent of arousal mixed with your blood hung heavy in the air, making Elvis' nostrils flare. He knew you were close already. "Look at yourself, honey," Elvis demanded darkly, head nodding to the mirror. "Watch me finger fuck this sweet pussy 'til it's drippin' for me." Wide eyes fluttered open, locking with your reflection. Bright red cheeks, hazy eyes, and a dazed expression - you'd never looked so debauched before. Seeing yourself in such a compromising position sent another bolt of pleasure through you, only worse that he was still fully clothed. "That's it baby," Elvis purred, relentlessly working you through it. Your legs shook like crazy, barely supporting you. The newfound intensity of your body's reaction left you sprawled bonelessly against the vanity. Elvis withdrew his coated fingers, bringing them to his lips for a leisurely lick. "Gonne be mine forever." he promised as you stayed bent over the vanity, breathing heavily, you raised your head to see him holding his shirt up as he fumbled with his belt before quickly pulling it off, his pants soon to follow. His erection sprang free, slapping lewdly against his stomach with a shiny sheen of pre-cum dripping from the tip. He stroked it lazily, smearing the clear fluid up and down his length. "Gonna fucking wreck this pussy," Elvis growled possessively, fisting his cock in clear anticipation. You could only whimper, gaze transfixed on his hardness. It was so large, easily more than seven inches long and thicker than your wrist, uncut and pooling. Watching him touch himself with such obvious enjoyment only served to stoke your own growing need. Elvis gripped your hips again, thumbs digging into your already bruised flesh. The vanity creaked ominously under the added weight as he pressed against you, his substantial girth a searing line against your sensitive folds. You gasped sharply at the promise of what was to come. "Mmmm, look how wet you are," Elvis rumbled appreciatively. "Soaked and swollen for me already. Such an eager yittle thing." The tip of his cock kissed your entrance, spreading your juices as it went. Your whole body trembled with pent up tension, every nerve on fire and begging for relief. Common sense screamed at you to struggle, to get away before this went too far...but your body craved more. Burned for something only he could give you. "Please," you heard yourself whisper brokenly, sounding distant even to your own ears. "I need..." "Shhh, I know darlin'," Elvis soothed, his voice a sinful caress. "Gonna give this greedy cunt exactly what it wants. Gonna fuck you 'til you scream." Then he was pushing in, hilting himself inside you with one brutal thrust. The sensation of being so completely stretched and filled snapped you out of your daze, a scream tearing from your throat. It was too much all at once, the pleasure and pain blending together until you couldn't tell them apart. Muscles clamped down hard, fluttering wildly as your body fought to adjust. "Fuuuuck yes," Elvis snarled, not giving you a moment to recover before he started moving. Each snap of his hips drove him impossibly deeper, thrusts short and powerful as he claimed your mouth in a brutal, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue dominated yours, mimicking the actions below. Nipping and sucking at your lips until they were puffy and swollen.
Your cries were muffled against his mouth, breath ragged as he kissed you through your first orgasm. It crashed over you with devastating force, back arching and toes curling as your inner walls spasmed rhythmically. Elvis groaned gutturally, hips stuttering as your muscles rippled around him. "Fuck, you're milkin’ my cock so good," he gasped, dragging his lips along your jaw. "Wanna fill this cunt up… wanna have you be all mine forever, no one else's.” He was delirious with lust, all primal need and animalistic intent. Your blood bonding had triggered something deep within him, pounding into you mercilessly as his balls drew up tight to his body. It was too much stimulation, the excessive pleasure edged with pain pushing you quickly towards a second peak. Pressure coiled in your lower belly, egged on by the obscene squelch of his cock plunging in and out of your cunt. Building, building...you teetered right on the cusp. "Elvis!" you sobbed wildly, knowing he was close too. He redoubled his efforts, angling just right to peg your g-spot dead on. "Come for me baby, come on my fuckin’ cock." And with those words, you shattered. Pleasure detonated behind your eyes, every nerve ending singing in blissful release as Elvis followed right after. His final thrusts grew erratic as his orgasm overtook him. Thick ropes of seed painted your inner walls, you could feel everything. The sensation of Elvis' hot cum flooding your insides sent you spiraling into another mind-blowing orgasm. Your pussy clenched greedily around his spurting cock, milking him for every last drop as he grunted and cursed, emptying the last of his release deep in your womb. "Holy shit," Elvis panted, hips twitching with the aftershocks. "Never came harder in my life." He collapsed against you. Slick flesh still joined intimately together, you both struggled to catch your breath. Your thighs trembled with exhaustion. Elvis' softening length slipped free from your well-used hole with a wet squelch. Cum began seeping out to trickle down the insides of your quivering thighs.Slowly, unsteadily, you straightened on weak knees. Every muscle protested and screamed in protest. It felt like you'd been fucked for hours instead of minutes. Arousal still buzzed along your nerve endings, your clit throbbing between your legs. Elvis' seed coated your inner walls, cock sliding out slick and shiny.Elvis grasped your hips, turning you around briskly. He pushed you down into a sitting position on the vanity bench, “What…what did you do to me..?” You whispered to him, looking at him was heavenly– you felt so close to him.
“Made sure you wouldn’t be lone’ on Halloween again.”
A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!!! this is 9 pages long on my google doc making it my longest fic to date 😓 i rlly hope y’all like this i’m sorry if some doesn’t make sense or if there’s grammar or spelling issues i tried sooo hard 😭🖤 also i had it scheduled for midnight n’ it didn’t post m’ so so sorry 😢
taglist: @hooked-on-elvis @atleastpleasetelephone @lola-1013 @indiatuck @eptodaytommorowforever @suspiciousmindsxo @tupelomiss @myradiaz @i-r-i-n-a-a @elvispresley1956 @sisssygirl @your-nanas-house @callieselvisobsessed @eapep @auntbee22 @elvisiana @ladelinee @jhoneybees @elviswhore69 @sissylittlefeather @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @louisejoy86 @cherrycolaride @sloppyzengarden @faeolwen @slayingjd @iloveelvisss @theelvisprincess @fairybloodsucker
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This is a hypnokinky story idea I came up with a while back while perusing some spirals for my own fun... *ahem*. Hope you enjoy reading this ^^
It was a nice apartment, all things considered, but you were ready to get out of it for a little bit. You’d just moved to this new city a handful of days ago—but your friends happened to be out of town this weekend, so you’d spent a fairly miserable half a week just lugging things up and down the stairs, before collapsing onto your bed and just snoozing.
But now, it was time to explore. You were lucky enough to move to a neighborhood that was pretty walkable: you were just a block away from a trendy boba shop, two blocks away from a small boutique, and next door to a quaint little bookstore.
More curious to you, though, was the video rental store.
It was pretty unusual nowadays to see a video store, let alone one that seemed to be thriving in the age of streaming. But even when you were just a visitor and not a resident, there always seemed to be a flyer for it. It leaned heavily into the 80’s aesthetic with bright neon zigzags and confetti like an arcade carpet, with a television you could practically feel the static radiating off of. In bold VHS styled font, it proclaimed “We’ve got what you want! SWIRLY’S SUPER VIDEO!”
With a whole week before your new job started, you decided to make your way to Swirly’s Super Video, which was a slightly longer walk from your place. That didn’t pose any real problems to you though, since the sun was still high in the sky.
As you strolled down the street, you mused about what videos you were hoping to see in there. You guessed no one was pressing any of your more recent favorites, so you thought back to your younger days and what you’d had on the old VCR. You vaguely recalled a couple animated films and anime episodes, along with maybe one or two old spy shows. You wondered to yourself if they even had a comprehensive selection—or maybe it was one of those places that just pretended to be a laundromat or a bookstore or whatever, then sold something else. It wasn’t a bad idea for a speakeasy.
But you weren’t in the mood for day-drinking. You were more interested in what the store that you now stood in front of actually held. Gazing up at the sign, you noted that it was an actual neon one, with a stylized VHS tape containing the store’s name inside. This was yet more proof that this store was making bank somehow, piquing your curiosity even more.
The bell atop the door jingled merrily, and a blast of cool air hit your face. The store had less of a corporate feel than you remembered in Blockbuster and Hollywood Video. There were wide open windows at the sides that let light in, streaming onto the rows of organized VHS tapes in white shelves. The carpet had the same arcade pattern they used for the background of their flyer. It also seemed to have a backroom section. You mused silently if this place was making their money by selling adult videos. Not that there was anything wrong with that.
From behind the glass counters filled with movie snacks, a person stood up to greet you, “Hey, welcome in!” They wore a vaporwave style button-up, which matched both the theme and their tan skin. They had purple dyed hair, with two pink strands in the front. Their eyes, a honey golden color, crinkled a little as they smiled, revealing two buck teeth. “I’m Swirly and this is my super video store!” They waved their hands as if to present the place. Then, they chuckled. “Can I help you with anything?”
You blinked a few times before you responded to them. “Um… I guess I just wanted to see what was here? I can’t believe it’s actually a video store.”
Swirly chuckled again. “Oh, well! A lot of people ask me about how we got so successful as VHS store nowadays. I think it’s ‘cause despite the name, we’re worker-owned. But you know, socialism wins and stuff.” They shot you a grin. “But we also have a pretty unique collection!”
Your eyes wandered back over to the cordoned off area. “Such as…?”
Swirly either ignored you or genuinely didn’t hear you… you couldn’t tell which as they brushed over your gaze. “I don’t know, tell me about the most obscure movie you can think of as a kid.”
You racked your brain for a second, as Swirly put their elbows up on the counter. “Um, I don’t know? Pretty obscure anime?”
“We have a good selection of anime. We’ve got Gregory Horrorshow, a ton of OVAs, and we talk to a lot of amateur archivists to get a collection going too,” they replied. “Plus a lot of nostalgia bait for people. We’re Back: A Dinosaur Story, The Jungle Book, Totally Spies, even Whirlpool.” Swirly continued to list a few more titles, watching your reaction.
For some reason, you flushed as they mentioned a certain title—then you realized, as you recognized a few more, they were naming media you were familiar with because you’d watched the hypnosis scenes in them with just a bit too much interest.
Swirly smiled, and you were certain now that they were watching for the reaction you were currently having, though you weren’t sure how—!
“Okay, yeah, I kind of figured! I’ve been experimenting with different subtle hypnotic symbols and now I know for sure it has that effect on people!” Swirly looked delighted. “You know, for a lot of people, we are just a regular VHS store, but that’s not what makes us the most money.” Swirly came around the counter and leaned back against it, surveying you more closely. “We have a lot of subtle hypnotic symbolism that helps draw in people who are interested in our super collection.”
As if already in a trance (you weren’t exactly sure what they meant, but you knew it made your head dizzy), you walked back with Swirly to the separated section of the store, seeing your reflection approach the back wall in the security mirrors.
You opened the door to another jingle—no, a special jingle that made you stand just a little more at attention—into a room that was smaller and more intimate than the rest of the store. It was darker too, with no windows, but large screens on each wall without a door. Each flickered with a different but equally relaxing slow strobing pattern, painting each wall a beautiful array of colors. You realized that each of them had the same calming whirr of VCRs humming around the room. There were several small, low shelves with another collection of tapes, with a pleasing purple box instead of the standard white ones.
“Y’see, people who are susceptible to the signals we put into our flyers and the bell out front are the kinds of people who like this niche selection we have,” Swirly said, seating themselves comfortably onto the cushions on the floor. “They spend a little money to either hang out here or to rent our videos and have a session or two or however many they want at home.”
You understood the appeal intimately—it hit you square in the kinks. Being lulled into hypnotic bliss among all these screens or in the privacy of your home, glued to your own TV was tantalizing. Imagining doing it with someone else back here, especially someone as cute as Swirly was, laid out on the cushions… was doing something to you.
Maybe you were already in a trance since that new jingle took your attention, but now the spirals were taking it away again, and you understood how fun it could be if several people kept coming in and out of the room, fractionating you up and down.
“We have a bunch of different spirals that make you feel different things,” Swirly spoke in a low voice, watching one of the spirals with you as you flopped down near your favorite one. “Doesn’t that one feel so good?”
You nodded sleepily and slowly, before Swirly put their hand gently over your eyes. You nearly groaned, sad to have the spiral suddenly disappear from your vision.
“But this is just a preview. You gotta be all the way up and then decide if you wanna pay for,” and you could practically hear Swirly wiggling their fingers in the air, “the membership experience. You just pay us monthly and you can come check out two videos per month, or more based on your tier. And you can spend time back here.” With a little lilt in their voice, they said, “With me.”
You were supposed to have a well-paying job. And you wouldn’t mind having an excuse to spend time with a new, pretty face. You nodded. “Sure, I’ll pay. This is cool so far.”
Swirly sounded excited. “And it’s always nice finding someone who’s into the same thing as you are!” They lifted their hand from your eyes, stroking the side of your face. “Isn’t it?”
The touch of their hand on your cheek, combined with the new, comforting spiral, felt like it wrapped your brain in the same fuzzy static as the one you could feel on your old TV. It was soft yet tingly, quieting down every other thought in your brain. Just the beautiful, magical pulsing of the spirals around you, making everything slip away into trance…
The sun would be pretty low once you’d finally left that room. And if you accepted a drive home from Swirly, with a couple new tapes in tow… well, that would just make sense.
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#hypnokink#hypnosis#hypnok1nk#hypno sub#mesmerized#hypnofetish#mind control#swirlygigg stories#hypno fantasy#hypno toy
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i got a few asks about my process :0 so yea i took some screenshots mid-process of my recent cliff-skk thing just for that
m gonna preface everything by saying that i did have a ref for the environment!! i avoid color dropping from the image and tracing cuz i do want to hone some digital skills. also saying i'm doing an "environment study" when i'm really just drawing skk makes me feel better abt myself
when i don't have a reference, i tend to do some thumbnail sketches in my sketchbook. here's some random stuff of past work, where i rawdogged everything:
but whatever, back to the cliff-skk. i'll also post a timelapse of it for easy ref, but detailed stuff is under the cut :)
first i did some rough sketches on an orangeish background (underpainting etiquette, i find it helps things feel brighter and keep a stable tone when choosing colors to lay on top), and I quickly lined skk :)
then I laid down some flats for the background, again really eyeballing the reference for hues. afterwards i thought it was a bit bright, and i wanted a more sepia/nostalgia feel to it, so i hue adjusted everything to something more uniform
then i lay down flats for skk + the ocean, which i both had to color adjust a lot (you might see that in the timelapse), and then i jump straight into rendering the background. when i render, i always prefer to do it over something lineless, so i turn the sketch layer off. i rarely do lineart for backgrounds.
i also used to render the characters first, but i've found that it's just not a great approach—especially for art where characters and background are interacting, knowing the hues and shades of the environment is crucial to effective rendering on the character that doesn't make them look out of place.
when i'm rendering, i really try to keep in mind tenants of contrast, perspective, form, and light/shadow. ex, stuff "closer" to us has more detail; the hill in the back is minimalist (in comparison); the shadows lean cool-green while the light leans gray-yellow. rake brushes really carried me here idk... my fav brushstyle forever
eventually i reach a point where i'm satisfied (or bored) with the background. for the last stages i usually have the subjects hidden so i can really perfect the details—but then for super duper final details, like the little leaf specks and grass strands, i unhid skk so the poppy details could work around skk. then i get to rendering the characters :)
i forgot to take ss of all the stages when i rendered skk, but here's something from... about the middle of the process? i tend to render characters with the lineart hidden as well, sometimes bringing it back just to clarify things, but ultimately i prefer to define things by form than by line. that's just me tho idk, idt it makes or breaks anything, just a preference
again rlly just thinking about cool/warm, reflective tones (the greenish shadow on chuuya's left inner leg, sky-gray blue on dazai's vest), really just slotting the subject into the environment. after i finish rendering the characters, i usually return to the background and add some stuff—in this one i defined the waves a bit and put some grass around skk
and yeah then we're done idk LOL. sometimes i run the file through camera raw (photoshop) to do some color adjustments—i find that my iPad displays colors super differently, usually making things a lot lighter than they are (u can see how dark the timelapse is...), so i find myself lightening my work a lot. i also sharpen and add noise as needed :)
i think my process has changed a lotttt even in this past year. it's kinda crazy!! it's always fun to do these and just reflect a bit on how i work. mostly just mindless insanity until it kinda works.
thanks for sending in an ask. and if u read all that, thanks to u too lolol
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Mikey is actually angelic
Ok so this is a drabble i made in maths instead of listening so if u have any criticism do let me know🙏
It was the tender moments with Mikey that seemed almost to not be real.
Late afternoon, right before sunset at the roof of a building. The sky looks like a painting of light and clouds. The windows of the buidlings reflecting the blinding sunrays. Light cool breeze moves through the city. And theyre you two are - like the only people in existence.
And he looks like an angel.
The wind is blowing trough his silky hair, moving it in the shape of sea waves. It moves like a halo, framing his ethereal face. His eyes seem even more radiant. The usually cool steel blue shines with warm, brilliant starry spark.
The toman jacket draped over his shoulders moves in the wind along with his hair, looking like a pair of wings behind him. It seems almost weightless, like it only carries the memories sewed on it. The clouds moving behind him only adding to the illusion.
The setting sun colors the sky in a soft, blazing flame right behind him. It bathes him in a liquid golden glow, shining trough his hair and sculpting his delicate silhouette.
And there you are - staring at him in a trance, almost with mouth gaping like a fish.
He looks and you and open his mouth to say something. Whatever he says goes through your head, too focused on the sound of his voice rather than the words - soft and soothing, like that of a dove.
And he repeats himself. This time you actually feel a bit awkward - there he is trying to talk to you and youre just staring at him stupidly.
He's caught on, though. He's chuckling to himself about something.
"Are you gonna answer me or you just wanna stare at me?"
Ah.
"What,, what did you ask again?"
Hes giggling even more now.
"What do you want to grab for dinner?"
•••
Its about midnight, every soul in the Sano house is asleep. Expect you.
Both still awake, even if barely. Some random playlist quietly sings is the background, the sound filling the room gently.
Trough the window the street is empty, street lights illuminating the sleepy houses. The sky is full of stars even if you can only see a few in the city. The moon is glowing full and the light is cast on Mikey.
In the pale moonlight he looks peaceful. His hair reflecting like pearlescent threads, forming spirals and swirls. It light falling on his soft face, bringing out a soft pink from his pale face. It makes him glow like he is a star himself.
His faint breathing, the low light and the smell of freshly washed fabric and him put you to sleep.
It was the tender moments like this that ground you back on the ground when it seems to be dissapearing under your feet.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
I havent written in ages fr, im a little rusty💔
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Coffee Shop Love Pt. 1
synopsis ! He's as stern and cold as the snow falling from the sky blanketing the bustling streets of Nueva York, Miguel O'Hara stumbles upon a hidden gem of a coffee shop just around the corner from Alchemax. Only problem is the annoying-as-shit charming barista.
cw ! no use of y/n, fluff, fluff, and more fluff
fic radio ! Bittersweet Faith by Bitter:Sweet
Coffee Shop Love Masterlist | Miguel O'Hara Masterlist
Yet another slow night at the Mug & Muffin Coffee House passed you by. To no one's surprise, not a single soul drinks coffee at night. You always kept the shop open if someone wanted to swing by and get some baked goods for the night. The rest usually went to the soup kitchen five blocks down. You sat by the counter chin propped up on your hand, as fatigue drooped your head down, and Peter Pan sprinkled fairy dust on your eyelids dragging them down.
The lethargic vibe of the shop with slow jazz playing in the background contrasted with the frantic ring of the doorbells. Your head shot up immediately with the sudden burst of noise. The cool winter air bit at your skin until the door closed and you felt the embrace of the blasting heater. Your eyes readjusted to the warm lights bringing you back into your shop surrounded by the endless coffee beans, leafy green plants, books, and the myriad of vintage photos framed in rusting gold Victorian frames. You directed your focus to the customer who had walked in.
Your lips parted slightly as a little gasp escaped them. A middle-aged man, with golden skin the color of black coffee with a bit of creamer; mahogany hair slicked back in a perfect disaster, with wisps of stray gelled hair strands framing his face perfectly waltzed in. He had the sharpest and highest cheekbones, a cleanly shaved face, and pearly white teeth. He stood at almost seven feet and struggled with getting the mistletoe above the door out of his voluminous hair.
Holy smokes he's hot. Where did this man come from?
He huffed as he finally freed himself from the clutches of the mistletoe. "What a low doorframe," he huffed.
"Or—maybe you're just wicked tall," you answered offering him a buzzing smile.
He quirked a brow at your playful comment. His face gave no gateway to his thoughts.
"Welcome to Mug & Muffin, what can I make you tonight?" you asked, looking up at him to meet his gaze.
"I'll have a hot black coffee for here please," he replied, as he took his wallet out.
Your facial expression naturally contorted at this odd request. You checked your watch to make sure you weren't going insane. Yep, 9 pm, why is this psycho getting coffee? You looked back up at his unbothered face.
That perfectly chiseled unbothered face. Fuck you for being so perfect mystery man. You thought as you typed the order into the machine.
"Would you like any cream or sugar with that sir?" you inquired as your eyes met briefly.
"Nope just black coffee," he responded with a touch too much sass.
"Okay, and can I get a name with this order?" you chirped, to which he replied, "Miguel O'Hara,"
You hummed as you printed his receipt out and handed it to him. He picked a seat facing the counter. Lucky me, you thought to yourself. You were quite content that you had some eye candy to feast on tonight.
I moved to Nueva York two weeks ago and I was still struggling to find a decent coffee shop. For convenience, I figured I would stop by the one close to Alchemax.
I already knew it was going to be a shit storm when I had to duck my head to get into the cafe just to get my hair caught in some weird plant above me. Problem number one, they have an agenda against tall people here.
Problem number two, the second I walked in, I saw the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my whole life. Great, the barista's cute. When she asked for my order, her voice was cute too. She did seem a little weirded out that I asked for coffee but how could I function without my 80th cup of the day?
She was waaay too energetic. But it was kind of rubbing off on me.
Problem number three, I let my temptations win me over and I sat in a seat that faced her. Which did nothing for the pile of case studies and documents I had to look over. I'd pretend to type whenever she was looking and resume taking in her beauty and behaviors when he wasn't. She was the sweetest distraction. Sure I was shaming myself for not getting all my work done, but I was also patting myself on the back because, what a view!
You made his black coffee while sneaking little peeks at him. A pair of reading glasses adorned the bridge of his nose as he taped away at his laptop. After a while, you brought his piping hot black coffee to him, and he thanked you with a little head nod, eyes still glued to his computer screen.
"Would you like coffee cake or some kind of muffin? I have a bunch of extras, it'd be on the house," you suggested.
"No thank you, I don't like sweets," he answered. You exaggeratedly gasped at his sudden revelation.
"You don't like sweets?" you demanded, placing your hands on your hips. You tried your hardest to give him an angry face while suppressing a curious smile. He found your efforts to look angry cute rather than intimidating. The corners of his mouth slightly rose as he cooly answered, "No, I do not,"
"Are you even real?" you grumbled, shaking your head and ticking your tongue. You sashayed back behind the counter to pack up the sweets to drop off at the Nueva Hope Soup Kitchen. You looked up in time to see Miguel take his first sip of his coffee(how he didn't burn his tongue? The world may never know). His head shot up and surprise marked his eyes as he looked down at his drink and then back at you, before letting out a satisfied hum of approval. He quickly downed his mug faster than you made it.
Truthfully, the shop closed 15 minutes ago but Miguel sat there too lost in his emails, documents, and reports to realize that you had shut the light off at the counter and put up every chair but the one he was sitting in. He only came back to earth after you had 'accidentally' dropped your keys by his chair. As cliché as the night already was, you both went to pick them up, your hands subtly grazing. Thump. He quickly retreated his hand looking anywhere but your face. He realized that it was beyond time for him to go. "Sorry about that it appears I've lost track of time," he admitted.
"No worries," you smiled finding anything else to do fidgeting with your keys. Thump? Seriously?
He packed his work bag as you loaded the back of your car with boxes of extra baked goods. Closing the trunk of the car, you peeped back into the shop to see Miguel placing money in the tip jar you had just emptied.
Stepping out of the shop Miguel started, "That was the best coffee I have ever tasted," You crossed your arms and smiled warmly looking up at him.
"I never got your name though," he trailed off.
"And you're not gettin' it," you teased.
"Everyone on the block calls me Baby, though," you explained.
"Yeah I'm not calling you that," Miguel deadpanned. You laughed at his response as you locked up.
"Suite yourself. You have a good night Miguel!" you called out as you opened your car door.
He gave you a lazy wave and you drove away. Night fell on Nueva York along with the snow. When you finished your delivery, you entered your apartment right above the shop with the tip jar in hand. You had emptied it before but Miguel had put something in it. When you opened it your eyes widened at the several twenty dollar bills. What the hell? He'd even left a note on the 'Tell us How We Did' sticky notepad. The sticky note read, "You are way too energetic for a shop owner at nine pm. But that was the best coffee I've ever had, will be coming again,"
His handwriting was something in between cursive and chicken scratch. Although you could barley read his note, it still put a smile on your face.
-> Next Part
#miguel o hara#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x you#miguel o'hara x you#astv miguel#across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099 x reader#spider man atsv#spiderman into the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#astv x reader#miguel fanfic#miguel o#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel o hara fluff#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel imagine#spiderman 2099
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◜ ͡ ◝ৎ ͜ ◞ ۫ ♪ slow dancing in the dark
⟡ dancing with cloud in a random empty field in the dark
cw : x fem!reader with she/her pronouns, tooth-rottening fluff (as always lol)
♬ - slow dancing in the dark (please listen to this while you read! I love this song <3)
The night was quiet, with only the soft hum of the wind brushing past the trees. Stars dotted the sky, twinkling like tiny diamonds above. The air was cool, but not too cold, just enough to make the moment feel crisp and alive, with the wind blowing gently on you. Cloud had led you out into the open field just beyond town, where the lights of the houses were mere specks in the distance.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness that surrounded you both.
Cloud turns to you, his usual stoic expression softened in the moonlight. His eyes, those deep, soulful blue eyes, catch yours, and for a moment, it feels like time has stopped. He steps closer, holding out a hand toward you, his expression a mix of tenderness and a hint of shyness.
“Dance with me?” His voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the battles and chaos the two of you have been through. But right now, in this moment, there’s only him and you, and the night that surrounds you both.
You smile, your heart fluttering at the thought. “Of course.”
You take his hand, and he pulls you closer, wrapping one arm securely around your waist while your free hand finds its place on his chest. You sway together, slow and steady, with faded music playing in the distance assisted with the faint rustle of the wind through the grass. The world around you fades into the background, leaving only the sensation of Cloud’s warmth and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your palm.
His chin rests lightly on the top of your head as you both fall into a gentle rhythm. The wind picks up slightly, ruffling Cloud’s messy blonde hair, but you don’t mind. It feels like something out of a dream, the kind of moment you’d want to last forever.
“I never thought I’d be doing something like this,” Cloud murmurs, his voice vibrating softly against you. There’s a smile hidden in his tone.
You chuckle softly, leaning back to look up at him. “Really? I thought you’d be the dancing type,” you tease.
He lets out a soft laugh, his hand tightening ever so slightly around your waist. “Not really. But… for you, I’ll do anything.” His voice drops slightly as he pauses, his eyes catching the sparkle in yours. “I know how much you love dancing, and…” He hesitates for a moment, his gaze softening. “I wanted to do something special for you. Just for you.”
Your breath hitches at his words, and for a moment, you simply stare into each other’s eyes, the connection between you so strong it makes your chest ache. Slowly, Cloud leans down, his eyes soft but still locked on yours, silently asking for permission without saying a word.
You close the distance, and his lips meet yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s not rushed or hurried. It’s slow, full of unspoken emotions, as if he’s trying to tell you everything he feels in that one moment. His hand moves up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin tenderly as he deepens the kiss just slightly.
When you finally pull away, your foreheads rest together, breaths mingling in the cool night air.
“I could stay like this forever,” you whisper, your voice laced with contentment.
Cloud’s eyes soften, a rare, genuine smile pulling at his lips. “Me too.”
And with the stars above and the wind wrapping around you both, you continue to sway, lost in the peacefulness of each other’s embrace.
a/n: i want to make my posts dark but idk how to change the post color itself 💔 it clashes with my profile aesthetic sm... anyway look at this cute pic of my husband ↓
#fluff#cloud strife fluff#cloud strife x reader#cloud strife x reader fluff#cloud strife#final fantasy vii#final fantasy 7#cloud x you#cloud strife x you#cloud strife x y/n
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5 Times Cyclone (Barely) Kept His Cool (& 1 Time He Didn’t) (Cyclone x Reader) [One-shot]
Disclaimer: I know nothing about how the Navy and Air Force work.
I had originally planned an entirely different multipart fic, but my brain won't let me write.
Tagged: @crispysublimecupcake, @failure-of-a-student, @abaker74, @green-parx, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @deanscroissant, @b-bradshaw, @alldaysdreamer, @bat-luna-cat, @auntiegigi, @another-bookwyrm, @littlewhiterose, @lucy-sky
Warnings: none
Gif Source: garethamm
Beau “Cyclone” Simpson rarely frequented the bar, not merely because he didn’t much care for the atmosphere but because he felt it necessary to remain distant and aloof from his subordinates—even ones that were just names on paper to him.
After the success of Maverick and his team in destroying the unsanctioned uranium enrichment plant, however, Cyclone found himself alongside Warlock in the bar, watching the TOPGUN pilots toast their triumph. Music thumped a steady beat in the background as the chatter, laughter, and cheers swelled in rolling waves through the enclosed space. Sweat trickled down the back of Cyclone’s neck as the heat of the room pressed down on him.
He tried to let his professional façade relax a fraction. He was just as elated as the flyboys at the success of the mission—more so, considering he had known the full ramifications of the crisis should they have failed. His relief was as palpable as the strength of the relieved expression on Warlock’s face.
Sipping his beer, he scanned the room, lips bearing the faint ghost of a smile as he noted the euphoric faces of his subordinates. Beyond the core group clustered around the pool table, several pilots sat or stood in scattered groups, elbowing each other and laughing, beers in hand.
Beyond them, in the far corner beside one of the windows overlooking the beach, you sat at a table, a half-filled glass in front of you. One foot propped up on the chair across from you, aviators hanging from the collar of your blouse, dark jeans, and ankle boots the same color of brown as your faux leather jacket, you had the same easy confidence tinged with a hint of arrogance as Maverick, of all people.
Cyclone stared.
“Cyclone? Beau?”
Cyclone’s attention snapped to Warlock. “What?”
“Are you really so incapable of enjoying yourself?”
He frowned. “What?”
“You really weren’t listening.” Warlock shook his head. “We’re here to relax and enjoy the win.”
“There are too many other things to win,” Cyclone countered. “This is just one.”
He glanced at your table.
Your seat was empty.
Cyclone straightened in his seat, scanned the room. The flyboys blocked his view, flaring his irritation as he strained to see past them.
Nothing.
Cyclone ground his teeth in disappointment.
“What’s the matter?”
He shook his head, biting back the retort surging through him: You let her get away. Again.
“Nothing,” he muttered. He sucked on his beer, the taste of it flat on his tongue. “Nothing at all.”
~~
A week and a half later when Cyclone had finally succeeded in pushing away the frustration and disappointment, he sat in a war room across from his counterpart in the Air Force, a man he begrudgingly respected not so much for his track record as for his personality. The man had managed to rise with a stellar career through the Air Force without turning into a total asshole.
Seated at the head of the table, the Secretary of Defense, a retired general of significant pedigree, intoned in a deep, buttery voice, “The mission requires a joint operation between the Air Force and the Navy. The Commander-in-Chief is demanding that it be done quickly and with such precision that it would make a neurosurgeon eat his shirt.”
General Charles Mcloughlin chuffed a quiet laugh. “The neurosurgeons I know would never.”
Unamused, SECDEV continued, “This mission is top priority. I don’t need to remind you that we need top-level talent and genius thinking to get this done. So do it.”
With that, the man left the room, his aide scurrying after him like a remora trying to keep up with a shark. Cyclone turned to Mcloughlin, who returned his hard stare with a heavy calm, unaffected gaze.
“I take it you heard about this beforehand,” Cyclone noted, inclining his head at the folder in front of the other man. “You already have a plan?”
“A semblance of one,” Mcloughlin demurred. “I already have two pilots selected from our end, the real crème-de-la-crème of the entire Force.”
Cyclone sighed. “But?”
“We need to use F-22s.”
Raking a hand over his face, Cyclone leaned forward, forearms digging hard into the table. “F-22s can’t land on aircraft carriers.”
“No, but the carriers can launch support for one.”
“Why would an F-22 need support from anything? No other aircraft matches it.”
“Because we’re going to crash it.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
Mcloughlin shook his head. “They’re being phased out by the F-35s. This mission requires us to complete the objective and then make it look like our aircraft can’t handle it anymore.”
“And you want my men to, what? Take enemy fire to make your crash look good?”
“Something like that.”
This job is going to give me an ulcer. The muscle in his jaw jumping, Cyclone stretched out a hand. Mcloughlin placed the folder in his palm. Leaning back in his chair, Cyclone flipped it open.
Your eyes stared at him from the first page. The ghost of a smirk played on your lips, the lens flare in your eyes a mischievous glimmer.
Cyclone swallowed thickly, his heart flinging itself against his ribs. Carefully, he flipped past your dossier, spent as many seconds on the second one as he had on yours.
He snapped the folder shut.
“When do I meet them?”
~~
Cyclone’s general dislike for the Air Force stemmed from a well-hidden jealousy. He had always wanted to get his hands on an F-22 Raptor, but the Navy didn’t use it. Even in his flyboy days, he hadn’t even been able to share the same airspace as one. He had never seen one in person, grounded or airborne.
Standing in a hanger on the Pearl Harbor-Hickam base in Hawai’i, Cyclone could barely contain his excitement and awe as he took in the F-22 Raptor standing but a few yards away. It took all of his control to keep his expression an impassive, unimpressed mask, even with only the general and Warlock in the hanger with him.
“Couldn’t bother to do this back on our home turf,” Warlock muttered to him, shaking his head as he stared up at the fighter. “No, they want to rub it in our faces.”
Cyclone made a noncommittal noise in his throat, then added, “Our pilots could use the humbling.”
“Nevertheless.” Warlock shook his head again.
Mcloughlin stood behind a small podium they had set up off to the side, a number of seats arrayed before it. The TOPGUN pilots and the two Air Force ones were yet to arrive to fill them. With each passing minute, Cyclone felt his heartrate kick up another notch. He ascribed it to the proximity of the stealth aircraft he had once dreamed of being close enough to touch.
It wasn’t until the soft tread of several booted feet scuffed over the cement floor that the blood roared through his ears. Woodenly, he turned to face the assembled pilots taking their seats. Despite their newfound friendship, Rooster sat in the row behind Hangman with Phoenix and Bob, the latter two taking surreptitious glances at the two Air Force pilots. Fanboy and Payback were the least discrete, staring both at the F-22 and the Air Force pilots in turn.
You sat at the back, dressed in a flight suit not dissimilar to the ones the TOPGUN pilots used. The two bars signifying your rank as a captain gleamed sharply in the light streaming through the open hanger doors.
You met Cyclone’s stare. One eyebrow rose up your forehead.
Hands clasped behind his back, Cyclone fought to keep his eyes ahead as Mcloughlin outlined the mission to the pilots. Your stare was magnetic, the pull of it almost irresistible.
By the time he stepped up to the podium, his wrist ached from squeezing it so tightly.
“This mission is a joint Navy and Air Force mission,” he reiterated, his throat straining not to give his nerves away. “That means General Mcloughlin and I retain the same authority.”
Sweat collected beneath the collar of his uniform. He glanced at the Air Force pilot leading the F-22 mission, a Daniel Hummel.
Your stare burned fire through him from the back of the room.
“If you don’t play nice with my men, if you are insubordinate in any way, you are off the mission. The general won’t listen to any appeal.”
His gaze shifted to his own men and women, careful not to pass over you.
“The same holds true for you.” He made a point of looking at Hangman. “There is no inter-branch rivalry here. We’re all on the same mission, which means you have to trust each other. If you don’t play nice, if you are insubordinate in any way, you are off the mission.”
His hands gripped the edges of the podium hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.
“Is that understood??”
A chorus of “yessirs” filled the room.
“Dismissed.”
He risked a glance in your direction as you stood to file out with the others. The ache in his hands hardly matched the one in his chest when you didn’t look back.
~~
Rage burned in Cyclone’s veins. It would be one of his own men that instigated the fight during training for a mission crucial not only to the objective but to strengthening Navy-Air Force relations.
He could already hear the Air Force brass whispering up the ladder about the lack of discipline in the Naval Air Forces.
Nerves buzzing, he felt like pacing and screaming at the two troublemakers standing in his office. Instead, he sat rigidly behind his desk, a glower on his face as he stared at Hangman and Rooster. Both men barely met his eye, their postures just as rigid, hands clenched behind their backs.
“What were you thinking?” he asked, the steel in his voice dangerous.
“Nothing, sir,” Rooster answered.
“We were being challenged, sir,” Hangman answered.
Cyclone clenched his teeth. “Did I or did I not say to play nice?”
“Yessir,” the men agreed in unison.
“Then why is Captain Hummel in the hospital?”
“Airmen are made of weaker stuff,” Hangman quipped.
Cyclone’s jaw audibly popped. The faint smirk on Hangman’s face evaporated.
“Thanks to you, the primary on this mission can no longer serve on the mission. We don’t have the time to train another pilot to act as this mission’s secondary, so you both are relieved of duty. I can’t risk you injuring the other pilot. Dismissed.”
Both men shouted “sir, yessir” and filed out of the room so stiffly they threatened to snap their spines. Cyclone passed a hand over his face, releasing an explosive sigh when the door swung shut. His stomach spasmed as he thought of you taking Hummel’s place on the mission. The mission was dangerous as it already was, given the enemy aircraft that were likely to be encountered, but to deliberately trash a fighter in the middle of potential dogfighting another layer of suicidal to an already insane mission.
He hadn’t even spoken to you directly yet. The opportunity hadn’t yet arrived.
There’s no point, he thought to himself. You aren’t built for…anything but this job. It is your only mistress.
His nails dug into his palms.
Now he might never have the chance to find out otherwise.
~~
Chaos reigned on the aircraft carrier. The last of the F-18s had yet to land, instead doing circles above the aircraft. The enemy fighters had disengaged when the carrier had come into view, but not before launching a missile that hadn’t been intercepted.
It hit your win, as you rolled, sending you into an out-of-control spiral. Your engines clipped the edge of the aircraft carrier, a quarter-of-a-mile off your intended target.
The crash had been real, taking a section of the landing strip with it.
The urge to vomit overwhelmed Cyclone. Breathing shallowly through his nose, he waited. He waited an eternity for the final F-18 to touch down, Phoenix and Bob climbing out of the cockpit with unsteady legs. He waited an eternity for the rescue team to launch out after you, your parachute a clear beacon on the choppy water.
He waited an eternity for you to be brought onboard. Another eternity for the medics to flock to your side, surrounding you like vultures around carrion.
His stomach dropped when the chopper lifted off, carrying you to the nearest base for emergency medical assistance.
He slumped in the chair of his tiny office onboard the carrier. Numb, he reached for the phone already connected to General Mcloughlin’s line.
The general answered immediately.
“I heard,” he said.
The silence felt like a vacuum sucking out Cyclone’s breath.
“You ever bring a mission like this to my table again,” he hissed, “I will make you eat the proposal.”
He slammed the phone back in its cradle. Stared at it.
Picked it up again and slammed, slammed, slammed it against the desk until it shattered in his hands. A roar filled his skull.
Anything not bolted down smashed across the room, tore in his hands. The rage and despair gripped him in a dark whirlwind that violence didn’t satisfy.
He sunk back down into his chair, slid off it in a heap as its broken leg gave way.
Warlock found him sitting up against the wall, shirt unbuttoned, hair a mess.
“She’s back at Pearl Harbor,” he said simply.
“Get me there.”
When he arrived, you were out of surgery and recovering. Forced to wait half a day before he could see you, Cyclone diverted all his calls to Warlock and delegated everything else. He sat statuesque in the waiting room, consuming nothing but bitter, thick coffee that made his stomach burn.
You were awake when the nurses let him into the room. Bruises mottled your face, your broken arm in a cast.
He almost couldn’t bear to look at you.
You tilted your head to better see him. A faint smile split your cracked lips. “Did that catch your attention?”
He choked on his tongue. “What?”
“I’m glad to see I’m important.”
Cyclone gently grabbed your hand. “You were always important.”
You laughed brokenly. “Come back when I’m not hopped up on meds. We have a lot to talk about.”
He promised quietly to return the next day.
Only when you were out of eyesight did he lean against the nearest wall and thank God for your survival. He fought back tears of relief through the prayer.
#Cyclone#Cyclone x Reader#Cyclone imagine#Beau Simpson#Beau Simpson x Reader#Beau Simpson imagine#Beau “Cyclone” Simpson x Reader#Beau “Cyclone” Simpson#Beau “Cyclone” Simpson imagine#Jon Hamm x Reader#Jon Hamm#Jon Hamm imagine#Top Gun: Maverick#Top Gun Maverick#TGM
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Chapter 7 - Forged in Flames
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
169 cadets survive the Gauntlet by the time the sun breaks the noon sky, and Genevieve’s squad places 5th out of 36. According to Violet, it’s all thanks to Ridoc, Rhiannon, Sawyer and Genevieve who were miraculously quick, making up for her lost time, but Genevieve ignores it. Genevieve ignores it because she placed second.
Liam Mairi beat her by 2.4 seconds, and she swears they could have been tied if she didn’t hesitate before the ramp. Standing still at the base of the box canyon that makes up the training field is supposed to be a spectacle in the autumn colored media Dow and mountains surrounding, but their squad is almost up next.
Genevieve’s mind is racing, her eyes narrowed in on the path that had nearly been hers to conquer and the stupid Gauntlet patch that Liam clutched between his fingers. It didn’t even matter that much to her, not in the long run at least, she just couldn’t handle being second. Her muscles are still taught with exertion, sweat cooling on her skin as the adrenaline slowly ebbs from her body, but the irritation in her chest burns hotter than the fatigue in her limbs.
2.4 seconds. The number digs in her mind like a thorn. Every part o her performance had been seamless, her footfalls calculated, her hands quick. And yet, she hesitated. Her body froze for a fraction of a second as her gaze caught on the ramp—her memories betraying her in that crucial moment. It had felt so much like before, like the moments she spent trying to claw her way out of that pit of captivity. The uneven ground, the slope ahead of her that made escape seem impossible.
She pushed the thought away angrily, clenching her fists, her nails digging into her palms so deeply that they cut.
Around her, cadets celebrate, laughter and cheers bubbling up like a background noise she can’t escape. But Genevieve keeps her gaze on the ramp, its wooden surface stained from years of use, dust kicking up around it as others walk by. The familiar weight of survival weighs down on her, heavier now because she knows she could have beaten Liam. Should have beaten him.
A presence approaches from her right, footsteps light, deliberate. Genevieve doesn’t have to look to know it’s Violet.
“Second place is amazing,” Violet says, her tone carefully neutral, almost positive and comforting. “You should be proud.”
“Second place isn’t good enough.” Genevieve’s voice is cold, sharp like the edge of a blade. She refuses to let Violet see how deep this loss cuts.
Violet sighs, her eyes flicking toward the ramp that Genevieve still glares at. “Everyone’s talking about it, you know. How you nearly overtook Liam.” Her voice lowers slightly.
“I don’t need their opinions.”
“No, you don’t,” Violet agrees, her smile thin. “But you’re going to hear them anyway. Second place is still better than most of us.”
Genevieve finally looks at her, meeting her gaze with a simmering intensity, but a hint of gratefulness. “I don’t care about most. I care about being first.”
The words linger in the air, heavy with meaning beyond the Guantlet. Violet holds her gaze for a moment longer, the faintest flicker of understanding passing between them before she breaks eye contact.
“Liam’s fast,” Violet offers, but Genevieve can hear the consolation in her tone, as if she needs comfort. Genevieve’s jaw tenses, Liam had been quick, sure, but it wasn’t speed that won him the Gauntlet, it was her hesitation. She handed him the win on a silver platter.
“He’s not faster than me,” Genevieve mutters, mostly to herself. She had been far ahead, she knew it. But her hesitation—her humanity, as Xaden had called it—had cost her, the same way she said it would have.
Violet shifts, crossing her arms as if gauging how much farther she can push before Genevieve snaps. “You’ll get him next time,” she says finally, her voice softening, but there’s an undercurrent of something more. Almost a reminder that Violet’s survival is intricately tied to Genevieve’s performance.
Without a word, the two friends separate, and get in line for Presentation. Their squad is up next, Garrick lines them up and gives them the rundown, and suddenly their walking through the vale, seven feet apart to not get flamed by the dragons that are lined up around them.
Genevieve is situated behind Rhiannon and in front of Ridoc, so the conversation flows between them with ease, but Genevieve feels off, the dragons are avoiding her in a different manner than her friends.
“Pay no attention to these other dragons,” the voice in Genevieve’s head boomed. It echoed through her thoughts as her squad walked their way through Presentation. “They know to avoid you. Keep your head high.”
“Did you hear that?” She verbalizes, calling out to Rhiannon who's a little bit farther ahead of her. “That voice?”
“This again?” Ridoc asks, his voice joking. “Maybe you’re going insane.”
Genevieve made no facial reaction, nor did she attempt to change her ways of walking, but internally she was screaming.
What the fuck is the voice inside my head on??
Tynan and Violet are bickering over something, and Genevieve isn’t ignoring it, she’s listening, but her mind is focused somewhere else. Luca and Tynan are busy insulting the dragons around them, but she just can’t catch her own mind.
She could tell the other dragons weren’t looking at her though, not in the same scrutinizing way they glared down Violet and Rhiannon, and certainly not in the same way they revered their teeth at the ones they flame alive.
“Can you please tell me who or what you are now?” She begged to the empty void in her mind, who clearly was picking and choosing when it would respond.
“In all due time, little soldier.” It replied, voice soft and soothing despite it’s ominous words. She heard her friends talking around her, her squadmates engaging in light conversation around the dragons the way that they were supposed to, but she remained silent.
But Genevieve couldn’t shake the sensation creeping up her spine, the presence in her mind both a comfort and a threat. With every passing minute, she tried to focus on the sound of her squadmate’s voices—the calm reasoning of Rhiannon, Violet’s sharp responses and her wit, the usual banter that has grown to ground her. But it all felt distant, as if she was far, far away and only her physical body remained.
The looming figures of the dragons perched on the path of Presentation seemed to shimmer with an ethereal energy. Their scales reflected the sunlight like shards of glass, making them look even more untouchable.
Rhiannon cast a glance over her shoulder, her face drawn in quiet tension. “You good?” She whispered, and Genevieve nodded stiffly. No, I’m absolutely not good, she wanted to yell, but the voice in her head was pulsing a low, humming vibration through her skull that felt nearly numbing. As if it was energy, or even magic.
Genevieve kept her head high, just as the voice had instructed. There was no physical reason she stood apart from her comrades, but somehow she felt exposed, like an undressed wound in the middle of a battlefield. The squad moved through the field, down a few people, but steadily they went along, with the heat of the dragons’ breath mingling into their nerves.
“I don’t want to be here,” Genevieve whispered in her mind, hoping whatever force resided there would answer her in this moment of weakness.
“You belong here,” The voice crooned. “You are chosen, Genevieve.”
And as they reached the end, a little golden feathertail swishes its tail excitedly in front of her, its eyes happy and playful. It was a warm contrast to the watchful and wary gaze of the other dragons. Was she supposed to be afraid?
”Chosen? For what?” She accidentally verbalized in her mind as her thoughts raced with questions, but she forced herself to stand tall as the eyes of the dragons stepped over them, their eyes lingering on her for a moment longer, and that’s when she noticed it—an ember of recognition flickered behind the red dragon’s eyes.
“Can they hear my thoughts too?” She asked, afraid that the answer would be yes. She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. Genevieve had no idea what had changed, why the dragons were sparing her from the brutal scrutiny they gave the others. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. This voice wasn’t a figment of her losses and stress, this confirmed it, this voice was real.
“They can try, but I reached you first,” the voice echoed, and Genevieve’s mind swirled with confusion.
“Why aren’t these dragons attacking me,” She asked. “Aren’t I too close?” Panic edged into her mind.
The voice, as cryptic as ever, responded. “Because you are not like them. You are meant for something greater than this.”
Her eyes widen as the smell of sulfur attacks her nose. From right in front of Rhiannon’s face, Pryor is dead. Pryor was flamed. But they keep walking, as per Sawyer’s order, Rhiannon stepping over the flames. Luca continues to complain, but Genevieve shakes her head.
Genevieve’s world narrows in on the smoldering remains of Pryor, his charred body just feet ahead of her, and the coppery tang of burning flesh mixes with the sulfur. The sight should have sent her reeling—her mind screaming at the horror of watching someone reduced to ask in seconds—but it doesn’t. Her senses are dulled, every nerve focused on the voice that now holds an iron grip on her thoughts. She barely hears the others, their murmurs and quiet gasps of shock as they maneuver around Pryor’s remains, trying to keep moving like they’re supposed to.
Her legs move out of instinct, her feet carrying her forward, but her mind is elsewhere. The voice is all she can focus on, vibrating through her like a strange, hypnotic hum.
There’s another gasp behind her, and a flash of heat hits her back. Please don’t be Ridoc, please don’t be-
“Guess the dragon’s think she’s insufferable, too,” Ridoc mutters.
The squad is now down to six first years, and the dragons are watching.
—————————————————
The third year dorm hall was the smallest dorm hall in all of Basgiath. It was just one long corridor lined with doors that opened up to each third year's private rooms, a reward for surviving this far in hell. Genevieve felt wildly out of place, but she was desperate.
It took her a while to pinpoint which room was his, but her eyes were sharp to the details, and there was a tiny runestone hidden on his doorframe, painting a red target on which room was his. She brought her fist up to knock, and it echoed through the hallway.
A few seconds passed, and there was silence through the door. Of course, it’s warded, I can’t hear anything.
“Genevieve?” He grumbled, swinging his door open. “What the fuck are you doing? It’s 3 in the morning.”
“You need to train me,” She said, completely ignoring his questions. “You and Liam are the only people who have ever beat me, and I know you trained him, so now you’re going to train me.”
Xaden was not one to be caught off guard, but Genevieve had managed to do just that. His dark eyes, always calculating and a step ahead, narrowed as he leaned against the doorframe. The dim light from the hallway cast sharp shadows on his face, accentuating the exhaustion that clung to him like a second skin. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, a deep exhale escaping him as though he couldn’t believe she was standing in front of him at this ungodly hour.
Genevieve knew he was handsome, but standing in the dim light of half-lit mage lanterns, his muscular features were outlined underneath the shirt he definitely had half-hazardly thrown on when he heard the knock on the door, and his eyes glittered with flecks of gold. He was beautiful. Not just handsome, he was striking. Even with his jaw twitching with tension, and the glint of anger hiding behind his eyes, Genevieve’s mind went blank.
“Do you even realize what you’re asking?” His voice was low, a warning that most would take a sign to turn around and leave. “This isn’t a game, Genevieve. You’re in over your head.”
She didn’t flinch. If anything, his words only seemed to solidify the determination in her stance. Her posture was rigid, chin held high, but there was something beneath the bravado—something Xaden could sense even in the faint light. Desperation. Fear. Yet the flame of defiance burned bright.
“I know what I’m asking,” she shot back, her voice steady but laced with an urgency she couldn’t mask. “You’ve trained yourself into a warrior. And I want to beat you, and I need to beat Liam. Train me.”
His jaw tightened as he studied her, and for a moment, the hallway fell into an uneasy silence. The kind that stretched too long, leaving Genevieve to wonder if she really did overstep, if she’d misjudged the moment of kindness that Xaden had shown her. But she didn’t back down, her pulse thrumming in her ears as she waited for his response.
“Why should I even consider it?” He finally asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s in it for me?”
Genevieve had anticipated this. No one in Basgiath could afford acts of charity, everything was a trade, and she’d known from the start that appealing to him on a personal level was pointless. He played his cards close to the chest, never letting anyone read them unless it benefited him. She took a breath, steadying herself.
“Because I’m a spy,” she said softly, stepping closer, her voice low and barely above a whisper. It was dangerous, every word she uttered could be repeated, and the walls have ears. “General Sorrengail sent me out here to watch you. If you train me, I’ll report nothing to her. Every secret you have will be safe as long as you train me.”
Xaden’s eyes darkened, his posture stiffening at her words. She could almost see the flicker of dangerous thoughts cross his mind as he processed what she said.
“You don’t know anything,” he said, his voice like a blade, sharp and cutting.
“I know enough,” she pressed on, her eyes locking with his. “I’ve seen it all, your little meeting by the river. You know us marked ones can’t gather in groups more than three without supervision, don’t you?”
There it was—the leverage. It was a gamble, a dangerous one at that, but she had him in a chokehold. And by the way Xaden’s gaze shifted, she knew she’d hit the mark. His fingers twitched against his arm, against the mark that had put him in this position. the weight of her words hung between them as he gazed so far into her eyes she felt as if he was reading every word that crossed her mind.
He was silent for a long time before finally pushing off the doorframe, his expression unreadable as he stepped back, gesturing for her to enter his room.
“Fine,” he muttered, his voice barely more than a growl. “But don’t think for a split second that this makes you invincible. If you even as much as whisper a word of any of this to General Sorrengail, I’ll cut your head off. And if you’re lying—“
“I’m not,” Genevieve interrupted, stepping past him into the dimly lit room. The weight of her choice settled on her shoulders as the door clicked shut behind her.
The room was oddly warm, a harsh contrast to the nearly dead hallway and her previous assumptions that Xaden was devoid of any emotional attachments. His boots and some daggers lay half-strewn by the door, his large bed sat in the center of the room with his soft and thick blankets tousled and thrown about. His desk was littered with paper, and a worn-leather journal sat in the corner. Battle plans, maps, and strategies were pinned to the walls with short blades, and messy clothes and flight leathers were tossed on every chair and armoire.
It was warm, and soft, and it smelled faintly like mint and leather conditioner. Holy shit, it smells like Xaden.
“Ok, so you’re not a lier.” Xaden agreed, quicker than she expected. It was if he knew it was the truth by just looking at her. She narrowed her eyes, but let the suspicion pass. This wasn’t the time to question him.
Genevieve’s eyes darted around the room, absorbing the details of Xaden’s space the controlled chaos that was so unlike the disciplined warrior he projected outside these walls. Here, in this mess of maps and weapons, she saw the traces of the man behind the mask. A man constantly at war, not just with the enemies outside but the ones inside his own mind. Her own turmoil mirrored his, and she wondered if that was why she was here now, bargaining with him at three in the morning, rather than anyone else. They were both survivors.
She could feel his gaze burning into her back as she continued to take in the room. She turned slowly to face him, her heartbeat steadying despite the tension that still clung to the air between them. Xaden stood by the door, arms crossed, watching her like a predator sizing up his prey. He was guarded, but there was an intensity in his stare, a flicker of something she couldn’t quite place.
“You look surprised,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Did you expect something else?”
Genevieve met his gaze, unflinching. “I didn’t expect anything. But this… this feels like my old room.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Don’t think this gives you insight into who I am.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” she shot back, but there was a slight smirk tugging at her lips.
Xaden’s eyes narrowed, the tension between them palpable as he straightened up, unfolding his arms. He stepped closer, the air around them thick with the intensity of the unspoken. His movements were deliberate, calculated, as always, but there was something different about the way he looked at her now—something more dangerous, and yet, something curious.
“I don’t trust you,” he said quietly, his voice like a dark current, pulling her. Down and under. “And I never will. Who are you really, Genevieve Hale?”
Genevieve’s breath caught, but she didn’t waver. She’d expected this. Trust was never a part of the equation, not with him, not with anyone. It was a currency too costly for her to deal in, and she knew Xaden felt the same. They were alike in that way—both of them built walls so high, no one could climb over without paying the price.
“I don’t need your trust,” she replied, her voice steady. “I need your training, and you do not need my sob story.”
He titled his head, studying her like she was a puzzle he had yet to solve, a mixture of frustration and intrigue swirling in those dark eyes. His gaze was suffocating, a weight pressing down on her chest.
Xaden’s silence stretched between them like a taut wire, buzzing with the unspoken. His eyes roamed over her face, as if searching for some crack in her armor, a hint of vulnerability or hesitation that might reveal her true intentions. Genevieve held her ground, her own gaze unwavering, meeting his challenge with a steely resolve.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” he said finally, his eyes traveling up and down her body in one fell swoop that caused her stomach to flip over. “You came here at this hour, demanding my help, and you’re just going to waltz in and out of my life without as much as a hint of who you are underneath the shell of a warrior that you wear.”
Genevieve’s lips curled into a slight, wry smile. She licked her lips, her own eyes devouring the twitch of his muscled arms, his shirt showing off just how built he really is. “And you’re curious about who I am? Surely you know as well as I do that curiosity can be a powerful tool.”
Xaden’s eyes flickered with a mixture of something. A mixture of irritation, reluctant admiration, and… want. “You think you can play these games with me?”
“I’m not playing games,” Genevieve said, her tone firm, despite the butterflies erupting all over her. “I’m asking for what I need to survive, and I’m willing to offer you something in return. My silence.”
He scoffed, the sound harsh and dismissive. “And what makes you think your silence is worth anything to me? I’m not interested in your promises. I deal in tangible things.”
“This is tangible,” She said, her own voice angry. “You want to know who I am, fine.” She took a step in, her chin barely reaching his collar bone, but her breath felt icy against his skin. “You know better than me, my whole backstory, you know my father died defending the rebellion, you know my sister died without a trace, you know my mother ran off when I was ten, you know everything. You know everything but one thing,”
She paused.
Xaden’s eyes narrowed, the intensity of his gaze unflinching as he took in her fierce declaration. His posture remained guarded, yet something shifted beneath the surface, a subtle acknowledgment of the raw honesty in her voice. Genevieve’s proximity, the icy breath against his skin, only seemed to heighten the electric tension that hung between them.
“Go on,” he said, his voice low and almost imperceptible, as though he was bracing himself for the relaxation she was about to deliver. he towered over her, his energy palpable, she could feel the heat off of him.
She met his eyes, her own burning with the flame of determination. “You know everything but one thing,” she repeated, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You don;t know why I’m here. Why I’ve chosen to fight and survive in this hellhole. And that’s the one thing that matters to me.”
Xaden’s expression remained inscrutable, but a flicker of something—a hint of recognition, perhaps, or even an unspoken invitation—paused through his eyes.
“You don’t know about the year I spent locked away in General Sorrengail’s basement.” She whispered, her voice close to sultry despite her revealing so much in one sentence. “You don’t know that I spent a year and 42 days in interrogation in a dungeon right underneath Violet Sorrengail’s bedroom, and that every question that was tortured out of me was about you.”
The room seemed to close in on them, the walls lined with maps and weapons reflecting the weight of their exchange. Neither of their gazes wavered as they looked into each other’s eyes.
“And in every question I remained silent because I didn’t know what was going on up here, but now I understand,” She said, a laugh almost in her voice, because she knew that Xaden was wrapped, hooked on every word of truth she was saying. “I understand that you are running a rebellion, that you are smuggling something, doing something, and I’m the victim. I’m the one who got the tendons and muscles in her shoulder torn out from underneath her skin and re-wired to keep her writhing in pain on the floor of a dungeon while you fought for a cause I was left out of because my father deemed me unworthy. And you already know I’m double crossed! I’m only out here and free because Sorrengail made me agree to report anything I learned about you back to her, but with everything I catch, I remain silent.”
Xaden’s face finally shifted subtly as Genevieve’s words sank in. The revelations she laid bare hung heavily in the air between them, a tangible weight that pressed down on both their shoulders. His eyes, once sharp and guarded, now bore a flicker of understanding, tempered with a hint of something darker.
The silence stretched, punctuated by only the soft hum of the lanterns that illuminated the room in a muted glow. Xaden’s gaze was unwavering, but there was a shift—a moment where the iron-clad facade of the warrior cracked, just a fraction.
“And what I don’t understand is—who you are, Xaden,” She continued, her voice laced with poison. “You throw me around, toy with me, tell me it’s ok to not be human, hold my hand, but you refuse to train me? What are you so afraid of, hm? Why can’t you look me dead in the eye and just say ‘Yes, Geneveive, I’ll train you because I see how much loosing kills you,’ hm, Xaden? Why?”
He shook his head, taking a step back from her. “Because I can’t, you’ve been through hell and I can see it. The way you stand, the way you speak—you’re like me. You need to prove something.”
She immediately closed the distance between them.
“Say yes, Xaden, just tell me you’ll train me, just say it.” She pressed, her own body growing closer and closer to his. “If I’m so similar to you, take pity on me and relieve me of my stress. Train me.”
“No, Genevieve,” He said, his voice raising, his hands running through his hair in a panicked motion. “You’re not understanding. I’m not here to be a crutch for you, nor am I here to solve your problems. What you’re asking for isn’t just a favor—it’s a commitment, one that I can’t make lightly. I have my own battles, my own secrets. If I train you, if I talk to you in a world beyond our rooftop, it’s no longer about honing your skills. It’s about pulling you into my world, a world you’ve already seen too much of.”
Geneveive’s jaw clenched as she stood toe-to-toe with him, the raw energy between them crackling and spitting fire. The desperation in her eyes matched the storm brewing in his. The weight of her request hung heavily in the air, mingling with the bitterness of past traumas and current fears.
“I know you’re scared,” she said, her voice softening but still fierce. “Scared of the unknown, scared of what you might unleash in me. But I’m already here Xaden, I’ve already faced the worst. Help me turn the pain you fear into strength.”
His gaze flickered with indecision, a tumult of emotions flashing across his face. The walls of his room seemed to close in, the strategy plans pinned to the walls taunting him, reminding him of the world he was trying to protect her from. His eyes darted to her lips, then to her eyes, then to the window, to the world out there that taunted him. The war that stained him.
In a fraction of a second, he grabbed her head, his hands rough but his touch gentle as he brought her lips to his in a crashing kiss, flames igniting around them. His hands intertwined with her hair as she leaned into him, the kiss deepening for a moment, before she pulled away.
They were just inches apart, mouths still opened, eyes still closed, before she pressed in once more, in a softer, less desperate kiss. His mouth moved in sync with hers, and her arm snaked up to his shoulders, then to his neck, to his hair. Before they separated again.
“What was that?” She asked quietly, their breaths still minded, the heat of the kiss still lingering. Her heart pounded, a chaotic symphony of adrenaline and emotions.
Xaden’s expression was a mixture of frustration and resignation, and of… what Genevieve could only assume was love. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rough, as if he was grappling with everything he was trying so hard to suppress. “Maybe I need to remind myself why I don’t do that.”
Genevieve’s gaze softened as she studied him. “You don’t have to push me away,” she said quietly, though the fierceness of her earlier demands had given way to a more tentative tone. “I’m here, Xaden. I’m not going anywhere.”
His jaw tightened as he looked away, the shadows in his eyes deepening. He ran a hand through his hair again, a habit Genevieve now was able to identify as a betrayal of his inner turmoil. “You don’t understand what you’re asking of me,” he said, his voice cracking slightly in a way she couldn’t imagine his words sounding. “I’m not just a wingleader here, I’m-” he stopped, the words catching in his throat.
“I know what you are,” Genevieve replied, stepping closer, her hand gently touching his arm, resting on his mark with a tenderness that felt foreign to the both of them. “I know you’re a warrior, a leader, and someone who’s fighting battles most people can’t even begin to understand. But I’m asking for your help because I know you understand what my battles are. And I’m here now, to stand by you, to help you face your own demons the way you forced me to face mine.”
Xaden’s eyes met hers again, the burning passion and want from earlier dissolving into raw, unfiltered honesty. The walls he had built around himself were still there, but he could see her at the gate with a pick-ax, slowly chipping away at the foundation.
“You don’t need to tell me everything, not yet at least,” she whispered. “But you can’t kiss me like you care about me and then immediately lock me out again.”
“If I train you,” he finally said, his voice steady but still tinged with the remnants of the earlier storm, “it’s not just about honing your skills. It’s about opening up a part of my life that I’ve kept sealed away, a part that could expose you to the dangers you’ve escaped.”
Genevieve nodded, her expression resolute. “I understand that. And I’m ready to face those dangers. I’ve already crawled through hell, Xaden. I’m not afraid to go back. Just believe that I’m capable of fighting alongside you, that I’m worth the risk.”
Xaden’s gaze softened, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of hope in his eyes. He took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Alright,” he said, his voice low but determined. “I’ll train you. But you have to promise me something in return.”
“What’s that?” Genevieve asked, her tone the softest and most open he’d ever heard from her in the last two months of knowing each other.
“That you won’t let this become a crutch,” Xaden said, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. “You need to use this training to become stronger, not just for yourself, but for me. I’m not sure what’s going on between us, but you need to be prepared for the fact that what you see here, what you learn, could change everything.”
Genevieve nodded, her eyes shining with determination. “I promise,” she said firmly. “I’ll use this to become stronger. And I’ll be ready for whatever comes next.”
Xaden’s expression remained unreadable for a moment longer, but then he nodded slowly, a hint of something she couldn’t place in his eyes. “Then let’s begin,” he said, his voice taking on a tone of acceptance. “We have a lot of work to do, and I don’t intend to make it easy for you.”
Genevieve managed a small smile, the first hint of lightness in the charged atmosphere. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she replied.
As Xaden moved to his gear, and to prepare her for the first of many greuling sessions, Genevieve remained still, feet still pinned to the exact spot where he had grabbed her and held her so tightly and kissed her. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, both physical and emotional, but she was ready to face them, bolstered by the unexpected connections that had exploded into something more.
As she made her way to the door, to leave for her own dorm and get some sleep before she woke for training in the morning, he stopped her.
“Genevieve,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I believe this is yours.”
In his outstretched hand, a dagger lay. Its blade was sharp and glistening, and its hilt was expertly polished and maintained. With curling vines and roses carved into the hilt, and red rubies inlaid to the pattern of the flowers, Genevieve’s eyes came to rest on the small engraving of a ’Q.H.’ in the base of the blade.
“It was Quinn’s,” his voice was soft and unwavering. “And now it’s yours.”
Genevieve’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the dagger. The room seemed to fade into the background, leaving only her, Xaden, and the blade that was supposed to be burned in the pit of all of Quinn’s belongings when she had died. Her fingers trembled as they brushed against the hilt that her older sister must have held so tightly, tracing the intricate vines and the gleaming rubies. It was beautiful—too beautiful for something to kill.
It was Quinn’s.
She swallowed hard, her mind swirling with memories of the boys she had lost, of the countless battles and the blood spilled. The dagger felt heavier in her hand than it should have, a burden of both her past and the future she was being thrust into. It was a symbol—of death, survival.
Xaden stood still, watching her, his usual impenetrable expression softened by a rare moment of vulnerability. “She would’ve wanted her younger sister to have it,” he murmured, his eyes flickering between the blade and her face. “She missed you more than anything-”
Genevieve grabbed his shirt, pulling him down to her once more, into a desperate kiss. Xaden;s breath hitched as Genevieve’s lips crashed against his, the raw intensity of her emotions palpable in every inch of her touch. Her fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, as if the weight of Quinn’s dagger had unlocked something inside her—a reservoir of grief, longing, and need she could no longer hold back.
The kiss was nothing like the two before. It was wild, unrestrained, fueled by the deep well of shared pain and unspoken words between them. She kissed him as if he were her lifeline, her anchor in the storm of memories flooding her mind, and Xaden responded in kind, his hands moving down to her waist, gripping her as if he feared she might slip through her fingers.
For a fleeting moment, everything else fell away—the war outside, the dangers that lurked in every shadow, the complex web of emotions that had kept them at arm’s length. It was just the two of them, tangled together in the dim light of the room, their breaths mingling, the sharp edge of desire and sorrow lingering between them, until she pulled away.
Leaving him leaning against the desk, she crossed the room to the door without sparing a glance backwards, and her hand reached out to the doorknob, but then she paused.
“Xaden?”
“Yes?” He responded, his expression softer than before.
“You’re not alone in this anymore,” she said, her words a whisper as she faced the door, not daring to face him and deal with what she might do if she looked at him again. “I’m with you.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a rare and fleeting expression that hadn’t graced his face in what felt like years. “I know.”
And with that, she slipped out of the room, Quinn’s dagger clutched tightly in her hand, and a promise of battle yet to come and the beginnings of something deeper, something she hadn’t dared to hope for.
Something that just might be worth fighting for.
———————————
Hey! pretty heavy chapter (lol what was I doing??), but I think it was pretty good anyways.
That’s besides the point, the point is now that school started, I will be updating once a week, probably on the weekend, so i have all week to write the chapter. I hope thats good for all of you!
Anyways~ please leave a kudo or a heart if you enjoyed, and talk to me in the comments. I have no clue if anyone actually enjoys my writing, so let me know! I want to know your predictions and all of your thoughts. See you next week!
#violet sorrengail#fourth wing#fourth wing imagine#fourth wing x reader#liam mairi#xaden and sgaeyl#xaden riorson#fourth wing xaden#xaden riorson x reader#garrick tavis x reader#the wounded healer
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It's a Bird, It's a Plane, It's a...Chimpanzee?
How bird imagery, planes, mentions of flying, and Noa's intelligence could be foreshadowing Noa taking flight.
Get out your tinfoil hats. It's theory time!
I've been thinking about what'll happen to Noa and how the rest of the story will unfold. While doing so, I came up with this crazy theory. You'll have to forgive me for my wild imagination at times, haha.
To make this sound a little less...insane, I'll start with evidence that is in the actual movie itself before I start branching out towards more speculative territory.
Noa and Bird Imagery
Throughout the movie, Noa is likened to a bird through bird imagery. One way this is done is through feathers. Feathers are worn by the apes in Eagle Clan as necklaces, arm bands, baldrics, and other accessories, with elders like Koro wearing a lot more. Younger apes and apes of lesser status wear feathers too, just not as many. Even some of the children wear necklaces with a singular feather. These feather accessories come in blues, browns, and whites.
Here's the thing: Noa is the only one without colorful feathers.
Take a look at this image of the trio. Soona has her blue feather necklace, and Anaya has his brown feather arm accessory, but Noa doesn't have any similar adornments. It can't be because Noa is the youngest since we see children have feather necklaces, and we know Soona and Anaya aren't that much older than Noa, for they were "born within a sunset."
Noa has some feathers near his belt, but they're white and stringy, and don't match with the more elaborate feather accessories of other apes in the clan. They remind me of white fluffy baby eagle feathers, while everyone else's accessories have the larger, colorful feathers of a more mature bird.
Having Noa not wear colorful feather accessories while other apes do means that feathers are symbolic of Noa's character growth.
Noa starts off with little to no feathers because he's still a young ape at the beginning of his hero's journey who is yet to undergo his trials and break free out of his shell. To further emphasize Noa being likened to a bird, the catalyst of his journey is the literal cracking of an egg. When hatchlings are first born, they're featherless. He's even called "baby bird" by Lightning after he first arrives at Proximus' kingdom.
After Noa has defeated Proximus, brought Eagle Clan back home, and returned from his journey back to the ordinary world with new knowledge, our "baby bird" Noa has sprouted his first mature feathers. Look at 'em. They're so blue and pretty.
And I assume after the death of Noa's father, Noa will become the clan's new Master of Birds, or is at least on his way to become one.
The Planes
One thing that really stood out to me were the multiple planes in the background. We see these planes where Raka lives, which appears to be an abandoned airport. They're all rusted and crumbling apart after centuries of rotting. There's six planes in these two images alone.
Along with these abandoned planes, there's also this moldy mural of humans looking up at planes in the sky. There are so many planes in these scenes at Raka's home that I couldn't just chalk it up to mere coincidence. It could just be a cool way to show how much time has passed since humanity's downfall and how nature has reclaimed the earth, but I also think it might be foreshadowing staring at us right in the face.
Mentions of Flight and Falling
Ok, moving away from planes now. There's a few lines that caught my attention. One is right after Raka meets Noa. The friendly orangutan helps Noa up to his feet, then says to himself in amusement:
"Apes falling from the sky."
It's an unusual line, almost prophetic-sounding. Kinda funny, too. Reminds me a bit of the saying "when pigs fly," which is used as a figure of speech when describing something as impossible. Pigs will never fly, because it is impossible. Apes falling from the sky? Unthinkable. It sounds ridiculous, because it'll never happen...right?
Another line is when Proximus tells Noa of all the things humans used to do when they were the dominant species. We even hear these lines in the trailer, but in the movie, they're slightly different:
"In their time, humans were capable of many great things. They could level mountains. They could speak across oceans. They could fly, Noa! Like eagles fly!"
Proximus uses eagles when describing flight. The same type of bird Noa's clan raises and is named after.
And this might be a bit of a stretch, but Proximus mentioning Noa's name to bring his attention to the idea that humans could fly makes me feel like it was a purposeful decision by the writers as a little slip of foreshadowing for future events.
Ok, so what do planes, bird imagery, Noa being compared to a bird, and references to flying and falling have to do with each other?
From this point on, this is where I start heading towards more tinfoil hat territory, but indulge me, and bear with me. Remember, at the end of the day, this is all just fun theorizing. Here we go!
I think at some point, Noa will fly.
By the end of Kingdom, Noa has started to grow his first feathers, but there is still a long journey ahead before he can take flight. There will be a point in the story when Noa has fully grown into the ape he's meant to be, and just like a bird, will get to spread his wings for the very first time.
But why stop at just bird imagery? Why stop at metaphor, and have him literally fly?
Remember those planes? Could they have been foreshadowing that Noa will ride one?
As to why or how he finds himself in a plane, I'm not sure. It's too early to tell. Maybe humans are flying a plane that he has to sneak onto. Maybe humans force him onto a plane. Maybe he willingly agrees to ride one and go with the humans somewhere far (The humans from Fort Wayne are far from the west coast). Maybe he has to stop a plane. Maybe he's in a falling plane. Maybe him and Eagle Clan have to ride one to get to safety. The possibilities are endless.
Now let's take it a step further. What if Noa were to fix and pilot a plane?
Noa As An Engineer
Noa fixing and flying a plane sounded crazy at first, even to me, but in an early interview, Noa has been described as an "engineer" by Owen Teague.
We definitely see Noa's ingenuity multiple times in Kingdom. More specifically, Noa is really good at fixing things. When he finds the frame for the fish broken, he spends the rest of the day whittling away at a piece of wood for the frame, staying up late at night to finish his work.
When he finds one of the electric staffs, he spends a few nights tinkering with it until he finally gets it to work. This is important, because later on it is revealed it was Trevathan who built these weapons. When Proximus tells everyone at the dinner table that Noa was able to fix it, Trevathan gives Noa a look of shock, as if this were the first time he encountered an ape capable of doing so.
We also see Noa slowly picking up on how electricity works through his multiple encounters with it. He has his first encounter when Sylva uses the electric staff to shock Noa through metal as a conductor not once, but twice.
His second encounter is when he's repairing the electric staff. His third encounter is when he watches Proximus' apes try to open the vault, observing how they use electricity to set off the explosions.
Through careful observation and learning, Noa comes to understand how electricity is a power that runs through a wire when setting up the bombs with Mae to flood the vault. This is to show us that Noa is capable of understanding human technology.
In addition, the movie doesn't just want us to know Noa is smart, but that Noa's intelligence is a source of fear for the humans. Remember Trevathan's shocked look? Noa's intelligence even frightens Mae.
In this interview with Freya Allan about one of the other versions of Noa and Mae's goodbye scene, she mentions how Mae was going to kill Noa because his intelligence scares her. She doesn't want to, but she feels like she has to.
On Reddit, Wes Ball gives his perspective on what Mae bringing the gun means. One thing he mentions in parenthesis is to pay attention to the deliberate look Mae gives Noa when he repairs the staff.
One way I interpret Mae's look is her realizing what it would mean for apes to have the power to understand and even build advanced technology.
Think about it. The only advantage, the only chance humans have against the apes is their human technology. Apes are bigger, stronger, can survive in the wild, and will overpower a human in physical combat any day of the week. But as long as humans have their weapons and machines, they have a chance of reclaiming the world. That's another reason why Mae cannot under any circumstances allow Proximus to have this technology, for humans would lose their only advantage.
But it won't matter how many vaults humans flood or how much old technology they destroy so apes don't get their hands on it. If apes can just learn and build it themselves, clever apes like Noa are now a threat to humanity's future.
My overall point is that they're heavily emphasizing how smart Noa is by having him fix things, understand human technology, and how his intelligence scares humans.
Why show us all of this if it's not going to come into play in some big way in the future? What will he fix in the next movies? What other human technology could he pick up on? What could be scarier for humans than apes mastering electricity?
How about an ape fixing an airplane, understanding how it works, and mastering the ability of flight?
Airplanes Inspired by Birds
One way they could set up Noa to fly a plane is to have him develop a fascination for flight, particularly through birds.
"They could fly, Noa! Like eagles fly!" -- Proximus.
With Noa as an engineer and with plenty of birds at his disposal, especially if he becomes the clan's new Master of Birds, Noa could start studying birds to understand how they fly.
A quick Google search will show that a lot of the early ideas for flight were inspired by birds. It's called biomimicry, which is design based on the study of something found in nature. Take a look at these pictures as examples that I found while researching this.
Humans have been looking up towards the sky and dreaming of one day being able to fly, so they started inventing ways to be able to do so by first studying birds. The more ape society advances, it makes sense that apes will one day yearn to do the same.
Noa's Thirst for Knowledge
Noa starts the movie as a rule follower. Follow the law. Don't go to the forbidden valley. Listen to the elders. Eagle Clan has to submit to their new king Proximus, for it is law.
This all changes when Noa looks down at the symbol of Caesar, a reminder of a leader who had led with strength and compassion, a leader so unlike Proximus, and realizes with clarity that the law is wrong. The elders were wrong. The elders did not tell him everything because they do not know everything.
The story ends with Noa back at home with Eagle Clan. However, Noa has had a taste of what's beyond the borders of his village. There are books with strange symbols he can't understand yet. He found this strange machine that allows him to see stars far into the void of space. He doesn't know how, but somehow, humans could fly. He knows there's more out there. He's intelligent, and he's curious. He'll want to reach for the stars himself. The movie even ends with Noa gazing up at the sky. They're setting Noa up to be a character that wants to learn and understand all these new things.
This also reminds me of this quote, which is fitting, considering the topic of this theory.
"Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return."
In Conclusion, Why Fly?
Having Noa fly could be how this trilogy continues the parallels to Noah's Ark and the Flood by having Noa and Eagle Clan get on an airplane that Noa fixes and flies in order for them to escape some great danger.
This could also be how Noa, Master of Birds, becomes a mythical figure for the apes by having him be the first ape to fly, the same way Caesar became a mythical figure by having him be the first ape to speak.
If not a mythical figure, this could make Noa one of the founding fathers of science in ape society, setting up the stage for ape scientists in the future like Zira and Cornelius. I could also jump the shark and talk about how Noa's dreams that were only mentioned in the trailer were not dreams of the past, the future, or Caesar's ghost like we all thought, but were the dreams of a scientist's mind coming up with the first ideas for innovations like electricity and flight.
In the trailer, Noa said his dreams were of strange things. New things.
Do you know how many great inventions came from dreams? Einstein's theory of relativity. The periodic table. The model of the atom.
Having Noa fly could be great for so many reasons. Not only for his character arc, but for the worldbuilding of ape society and ape mythology, especially if they have more movies set far in the future. They have plans for 9 total movies!
Finally, I want to share a scene from The Planet of the Apes (1968) where Cornelius and Zira, two chimpanzee scientists, question Taylor's ability to fly.
Having Noa, a chimpanzee, learn to fly, something considered an impossibility by apes, would be such a wonderful way to have this story rhyme with what came before.
#kingdom of the planet of the apes#planet of the apes#pota#kotpota#noa#mae#noa pota#mae pota#my theory#this movie is making me go insane#I need the next one pronto#nomae
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Welcome to AphidClan!
Where a bunch of brightly colorful sparklekitties live in a polluted, dull, depressing land with a hunger for blood that can’t be sated.
Iridis (they/he/she with a they/he preference + neos) - the non-binary, genderqueer, xenogender & trans audhd artist behind the blog, my main art blog is @iridiss !
~ Resources ~
The AphidClan Code
AphidClan Family Tree
#aphidmoons - The tag for moons/main updates
#aphidasks - The tag for asks and answers from both me and the characters
#aphidlore - the lore tag
#aphidrefs - reference sheets for the characters
And my tag for showcasing other clangen blogs is #other clans
FAQ
Q: Is there somewhere I can easily read your comic in order?
A: Check out our ComicFury! It has an automatic archive that’s super easy to use so you can access any moon, aphidask, or additional material/art instantaneously without having to scroll through the entire blog, and it’s all in order!! You don’t need a CF account in order to use it as much as you like, and if you wish, you can come straight back to the tumblr blog after using CF to catch up! Enjoy!
Q: Is your clangen modded?
A: Nope! The actual sprites of the characters are normal, but my own creative liberties turn them into sparklecats. That’s why you’ll see Pearlstar with pink and gold and sky blue markings in the pages, but not in his sprite.
Q: Are the background/side characters available for questioning?
A: Yes!! Any and all cats that appear on this blog are available for questions, even if they’re deceased, an Outsider, or a nameless background character only present for a panel or two.
Boundaries -
Please do not ping me. Don’t ping me with newly made clangen blogs, even as inspiration.
Don’t ask me for art or demand that I make reference sheets for the characters, or update the family tree sooner, or any other additional material for the comic. Don’t demand for updates to come out sooner. It’s very disrespectful. This is a hobby where I draw for my own entertainment, nothing else.
Do not make humanized designs of my characters. They are my characters, not yours. However, I am fine with you drawing Aphidclan cats as furries and anthros or dressing them up in cool outfits, since I already draw them as anthros/furries myself and no real aspect of the design is being changed when they’re drawn as anthropomorphic/furries, it’s just,,, the cats, but standing on two legs lol
No parasocial shit, please. Do not DM me, or ask to be my friend, or make headcanons of my OCs, or stalk me and obsess over me or otherwise put me on some kind of pedestal. I’m not your idol, I’m not an influencer, this makes me extremely uncomfortable. Respect me as a person and treat me the same way you’d treat a stranger you met irl, my characters/comic/art/writing is not yours to claim or take from or freely treat as your own just because you like my art. These are my characters, and not yours to play with and do as you please. I should not be your friend just because you like my art. Do not try to use me or my blog for clout. Do not ask me for my opinion on real-world things, it literally should not matter to you. I am just a guy drawing cats on the internet. I am a living breathing person with boundaries and flaws and a life outside of this comic. Please do not be weird about me or my characters, parasocial shit makes me deeply uncomfortable and it is often extremely rude and dehumanizing. If I find you doing any of these things in my asks or comments, I will block you immediately and delete the ask/comment. Treat me with respect, or I will block you/turn off asks/etc.
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