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nebulaafterdark · 10 months ago

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The Succession (Part 3)

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Alicent’s idea of a procession to gain support for their wounded King, has quite the opposite effect. The smallfolk swam them, knocking the attending members of the royal family from their carriage and down onto the streets with them.

The Dowager Queen clings to Helaena and her daughter by law. With gold cloaks of the city watch forcing the crowd away from them. Making a path back toward the Keep.

Chérie watches in horror as it unfolds, amongst the sea of people, she spots a familiar face. One of Rhaenyra’s ladies-in-waiting. “Elinda?”

“Chérie?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to deliver a message to Princess Y/N, from Queen Rhaenyra.”

“May the gods be with you,” Chérie remarks.

“Where is she?” Elinda asks.

Chérie points toward the center of the mob. Alicent, Helaena and Y/N covered by guards attempting to protect them. “There.”

“Give us the Queen!”

“We want the Queen.”

“Back, all of you!” The guards demand, preparing to draw their swords.

Y/N tries to step forward, give the people what they want.

“Y/N,” Alicent keeps a firm hold on her, shaking her head. “It is not worth the risk.”

“You drug me away from my husband’s sick bed for our people to see me.” Y/N reminds her. “Let them see me.”

Alicent releases her, against her better judgment.

The mass of commoners threaten to engulf the Queen, with the banner of house Targaryen held proudly in their midst. “We want meat.”

“The King makes false promises!”

“You feast in your castle as we starve!”

The shouting builds to a crescendo.

“Do you want my help, or simply to hurl insults at the crown?” Y/N waits until they fall silent before she continues. “Before the King’s coronation, I was told the realm would never accept a ruling Queen. I heard this same sentiment recently, as my lord husband returned from battle, grievously injured. Yet you raise my mother’s banner in my husband’s streets.” Y/N says, loud enough for all to hear. “War is a terrible thing, that costs us all that which we love. It drives a wedge between our houses, makes fools of us all.”

“Stop the war!”

“End the blockade!”

Y/N hesitates, “I have no more agency over that than any of you, I fear. But I believe, as I know my husband does, that our victory relies on the smallfolk. We take to the woods, this day. We will hunt for our meat and we shall feast upon it together.”

The smallfolk murmur to each other.

“Most of you are not trained for the hunt, to which I say, neither am I. But we must stand together, not tear ourselves apart. We are one people, we are one heart.”

Slowly, the townsfolk begin voicing their approval.

“Take to your houses,” Y/N instructs, “gather your weapons and join me at the gates. They will open for us or we will break them down!”

“If you want a word with the Queen, now is your chance.” Chérie whispers.

“And you?”

“I must stand watch over his grace, until her return. After what I have learned this day…he mustn’t be alone.”

The mob cheers as they disband, knocking Chérie and Elinda apart.

Alicent rushes Helaena inside as Y/N heads for the gates.

“She should not be alone.” Helaena says.

“No, she shouldn’t.” Alicent presses cups her daughter’s face in her hands. “Ser Criston.” She calls.

“Your grace,” he stands at the ready.

“You are to accompany the Queen on this venture.” She tells him. “Y/N is not to be out of your sight, no harm must come to her.”

“Of course, your grace.” Cole nods, excusing himself to meet the Queen at the gates. They remain closed as commoners fall in line behind her, pushing at one another as she fights her way to the forefront.

“Where is it you think you’re going?” Aemond asks his niece.

“To give our people meat.” Y/N sneers, spotting her husband’s dagger on his hip. Without hesitation she reaches across, staring him dead in the eye as she yanks the blade free of its sheath. “You are welcome to join us.”

Aemond cocks his head to the side, knowing he has the final say in directing the King’s guard, “open the gates.”

————————————————————————

When Daemon receives Rhaenyra’s letter, detailing her plan to secure Y/N’s safe passage from King’s Landing to Dragonstone, he believes it is a terrible idea.

What they need is for her to hold the throne, the moment she abandons it, any claim Rhaenyra or Aegon holds over it will be lost to the Prince Regent. He knows better than anyone that the realm will suffer if Aemond, one eye, rules.

Instead he plans to enlist help of his own to secure his grandchildren’s safety. With Y/N and Aemond out roaming the woods, taking over half the King’s guard with them, he finds his opportunity.

Whistling through the gates to one of the white cloaks, who harbors a strong dislike of the Hightowers. The man abandons his post, meeting Daemon at the bars.

“How would you like to make a year’s worth of gold in an hour?”

Blood swallows harshly, “what would you have me do?”

“You can start by opening the fucking gate.”

The man does as he’s told.

“Follow me.” Daemon leads him down the alleyway to another man, whom he calls Cheese. “This is an old friend of mine, tonight he’s going to be your friend.” Daemon tosses them each a sack of gold.

“You said a year’s worth.”

“Half now, half when the job is done.”

Blood and Cheese count their bags of coin before nodding their agreement.

“What I need of you is simple. Enter the castle, find my grandson, Aegon.”

“The King?”

“Prince Aegon. He is a babe with dark hair.” With his father incapacitated, they have a good shot at it. “If you cannot retrieve him safely, leave.”

“Is that all?”

“Be sure to scare the seven hells out of the maids while you’re at it. But you are not to cause harm. This is a ploy to increase protection of the Queen’s heirs. Nothing more.”

“What is it they need protecting from?” Cheese wonders.

“Do you want the job or not?” Daemon snaps.

“Y-yes.”

“I will be waiting to collect him at the north gate.” The prince informs them. “You have one hour.”

————————————————————————-

“Disperse and take your share, all of you.” Aemond gives the smallfolk his blessing. They scatter in all directions, desperate and searching.

Y/N sets off with a pack of them into the east woods. Cole follows.

Aemond stays with the masses, showing his good faith. Hoping to win back their support of his claim.

Y/N is the first to spot a deer, running from them, “just there.” She sets off toward is. “Who wants it?”

“I, your grace.” A man with silver, gray hair marches toward it.

“Very well!” Y/N praises, “everyone come round, be sure it does not escape.”

“Together, now.”

They take the first, with some difficulty. Each to follow becomes easier.

Aemond makes his kills alone, happening upon the group eventually. Just in time to see the gleam of the White Hart, watching on from a safe distance. Willing him to slain it, prove himself once and for all, as Y/N toils in servitude of the smallfolk.

“Your grace!” One of the men yell, pointing to the stag. “For you.”

“For us,” Y/N pats his shoulder before hiking up her ruined skirts, “for us.”

“For us!”

Aemond draws his sword, spooking the animal into hiding.

The Queen’s eyes widen.

“May the beast be slain by the true heir, as a sign of good faith.” He says, taking off in search of it.

Y/N runs after him.

“My Queen!”

“Stay with the Queen!”

She chases Aemond deeper into the woods, but the stag cannot be found.

In an instant, Aemond turns on his heels. Leaving the end of his blade pointed at Y/N’s belly.

She flinches as his sword grazes her cheek on it’s upward swing.

Aemond smirks, watching the blood bead on her skin as her eyes well with tears. “Behind you.”

The stag bolts away.

“Aemond!” Ser Criston calls.

The Prince Regent sheathes his sword. “It got away.”

Y/N’s knees buckle, she does not fight as she falls to the ground. It was him. He who would sooner shroud his brother in dragon fire than fight at his side. He who jumped the line of succession to turn the war in his favor.

“Your grace,” Cole moves to her as Aemond retreats. “You’re injured.”

Y/N holds a hand up between them.

“Let me help you stand.”

“Why?” Y/N asks, “each time I stand I am struck down.”

“Because you keep rising.” Cole tells her. “You know, I may not have fathered them, but I raised both Aegon and Aemond as my own. He would not want to see you this way.”

“He may never see me again.”

“I do not believe that is true.” Ser Criston sighs, “so long as you live, he will find a way. My responsibility to Aegon now lies in ensuring he has something to wake up to.” He says, pointedly. “You have not made it an easy task.”

“I overheard you call my mother a spoiled cunt once.” Y/N scrubs a hand over her face, “be forewarned, I am worse.”

Despite himself, Cole smiles. Something just beyond her catching his eye. “My Queen.”

She follows the direction of his finger.

“This will be the sign we all desperately need, they would fall in line behind you. There will be no further question.”

The White Hart stares back at her, unblinking. “Have you come to die for me too?” She pushes up to her feet, flashing the blade before the animal’s eyes in warning. But the stag comes closer, she strokes its bowed head, plunging the dagger clean into its heart, allowing the stag to collapse onto her. Rocking the creature as best she can. “Thank you for all you have done for me. Your sacrifice is not in vain.”

Cole carries the slain stag behind Y/N, trudging through the forest, covered in its blood. The smallfolk know what this means. There is no need for a Prince Regent, they have a Queen.

Aemond nods. She’s won the battle, but he’ll win the war.

————————————————————————-

With the smallfolk contented, Y/N retires to her rooms, allowing the bath water to soothe her muscles and her mind. Chérie is still about, therefore the Queen allows another of her ladies to scrub the dirt and blood from her skin.

“It is done, my Queen.” Livia nods, “should you like a towel, or to soak a while longer?”

“The water is filthy,” Y/N murmurs.

“We might draw you a new bath, your grace.”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “Just the towel please.”

“At once, your grace.” She reaches for the plush cream fabric, holding it open for her majesty.

Y/N wraps herself in it, as her hair is rung out over the tub.

“Are you thinking of braids, your grace?”

No. Not in the least. “You may leave it hang.”

“Are you certain?” Livia blinks at her.

“Yes, help me dress in my nightgown, please. I am quite exhausted.”

Livia nods, scurrying to the dressing area and returning with a pale purple gown. “Is this to your liking, my Queen?”

Y/N smiles, “it is lovely. Thank you.”

The woman returns the gesture.

“You needn’t always address me so formally when we are alone. I wish for us to be friends.”

“A Queen is not expected to be friends with her servants.” Livia says, “my mother has served the dowager Queen Alicent for many years.”

“My mother was always kind to her ladies.�� Y/N tells her. “That is the Queen I hope to be.”

Livia nods, easing the material over the Queen’s head, followed quickly by her robe. “I should like that very much.”

“I understand how difficult it can be, taking on a new role without knowing what’s expected of you. If you’ve questions, please voice them to me, I am more than happy to answer.”

“I have heard whispers from other ladies…that Chérie joins you and the King in your bed.” Livia stammers, “you are both very lovely, your grace, but I would not know how-”

“Oh no,” Y/N huffs a laugh. “Livia, that will never be asked of you. Chérie is very dear to the King and I, but that is not a task expected of my ladies.”

“Forgive me for assuming.”

“It’s quite alright, I am glad to clear the air between us. I would hate for you to be nervous in my presence over a misunderstanding.”

Livia exhales, “thank you for being so kind.”

Y/N takes her hand, “of course.”

“Y/N,” Chérie pants, having rushed past the guards. “It’s Aegon.”

Y/N moves, as if in slow motion, taking the bloodied dagger from the floor. Down the hall, to her husband’s rooms, shoving open the door.

“You’re hurt.” He says, taking in the sight of her, freshly dressed, hair still dripping from the bath.

She gawks at him. Willing her legs to move and dropping to her knees at the side of his bed, casting the weapon aside. Y/N rests her cheek against the coverlet, not daring to touch him.

Carefully he reaches for her, feeling the charred skin of his chest pull as his hand passes over her hair.

“I thought you were dead,” Y/N whispers. “Chérie rushed me out of my rooms to you. I thought you were dead.” She sobs, violently enough that any shred of anger Aegon harbors for the disregard of her own safety is forgotten.

“I’m going to look in on the children.” Chérie excuses herself.

Aegon whispers, as the doors close, “come round this side.”

“I can’t.” Y/N struggles to draw breath, shuttering as she does.

“I wish to hold you.”

“I will hurt you.”

“Hearing you sob on the floor, while I am no more than a foot away, is worse than any pain I am in. Let me comfort you.” Aegon insists, “please.”

Y/N stands, climbing carefully onto the bed, lying her head on the pillow beside his.

Aegon’s neck aches as he turns his head to face her, left eye swollen shut.

“I do not see where it is safe to touch you,” Y/N admits. The unmarred half of his face now rests against the pillow.

“Rest your head upon my shoulder.” Aegon sighs, “but let me look at you first.” He’s just taken milk of the poppy, enough to dull the sharp edge of pain.

“I am a mess.” Y/N lets out a watery laugh, dragging the back of her hand over her face, mindful of her graze.

“You are beautiful,” Aegon half smiles. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Y/N sucks in a breath, “the small council appointed Aemond as Prince Regent. The smallfolk were discontented in their hunger, I took them to hunt. I happened across a white stag and followed it into the woods. Aemond as well. He drew his sword once we were far enough out though Cole found us before anything happened. I think he meant to kill me.”

Aegon swallows, “you must stay away from Aemond, do you understand?”

Y/N nods.

“When I am well enough-”

“Has he done this to you?” Y/N needs to hear it plainly.

“Sunfyre and Meyles were locked together. There is no way of knowing what his intentions were, but it was Aemond who gave the command.” Dracarys.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You cannot.”

Y/N begins to protest.

“Listen to me now.” Aegon presses on, “I want you out of King’s Landing. I want our children out.”

“No, I will not leave you.”

“Go to your mother on Dragonstone.”

“No.”

“Shh,” Aegon gentles her. “I need you to hear what I am saying to you. This is the only way she can take back the throne. She wants Aemond’s head more than any. It will ensure your safety and the kill. I hate being parted as much as you do, but I cannot protect you here.”

“Who will protect you if I go?”

“My mother.”

“She would stand against Aemond, if it comes to it?” Y/N challenges.

“I do not want you here if it comes to that.”

“Why?”

“I will not have you stand between me and a blade. I will not allow you to be harmed or mistreated. I will protect you and our children at any cost.” Aegon says.

“The White Hart appeared for me,” Y/N is sure of it. “It fled from Aemond, returned for me and I killed it. For you, for our house and our people. I am not weak.”

“My concern is not because you are weak.” Aegon tells her, “at present, you are the largest threat to Aemond. He could end me now with a pillow held over my face.”

Y/N’s eyes widen.

“I jest, I jest.”

“I will do it myself if you dare say that again.”

He chuckles, “ah!” The movement is horribly painful. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“I promised the girls they could come visit you.” Y/N tells him, lowering her head to his shoulder.

“Are you certain that’s a good idea?” Aegon nuzzles against the top of her head. “They should not have to see me this way.”

Y/N sighs, “you are their father. They love you no matter what.”

“And you?” Aegon whispers, “you would have me still? They say I may never walk again.”

Y/N pulls away to stare at him with furrowed brows. “Aegon, of course I will have you. I love you.”

“I know that you love me.” Same as he would love her with roles reversed, “but will you…desire me? As your husband?”

Y/N presses her lips to his, oh so gently. “Of course. When you have recovered, we shall make up for lost time.”

Again he nods, not entirely convinced. “I should like that very much.”

“I speak true, husband.” Y/N insists. “Surely my body is different now than it was before our babes and you desire me still, do you not?”

“I desire you more.”

“We’re going to grow old together, you and I. In which time we will both surely change, that is the way of things.”

“Your grace!” Chérie calls, rapping her fist against the door.

“Come,” Y/N wills her.

The woman charges in, clearly distraught. “My Queen,” she says, without realizing Aegon is still lucid. The maesters warned his moments of waking will be few and far between. “Something awful has happened.”

“What is it?” Y/N springs from the bed.

“Prince Aegon…he’s been taken.”

“Taken where?” Y/N demands.

“I cannot say, the maids reported two men in hoods. They came with knives, threatened them and took the babe.”

“Bring us Dahlia, Visera and Laenor.” Aegon insists. “Send in the guards, they are to tear apart the Red Keep until my son is found.”

“Of course, my King.” Chérie bows.

Y/N steals the abandoned dagger, making for the door.

“Where are you going?” Aegon calls after her.

“To kill your brother.”

Part 4

Series Taglist: @oh-you-mean-me @barnes70stark @lovelyteenagebeard @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @callsignwidow @hyde-jpg @novelswithariana @klutzylaena @ynbutbetter @ravenqueen27 @danart501

#house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon imagine #aegon ii

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amirawrah · 1 month ago

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⭐︎ a look into jude's relationship side

♥︎ word count: 8,622

♥︎ amirah: at last innit, my wilo's relationship side would always be on top but i really like this tho so i hope you all like thia too. i think i tried my best with it even tho i think im losing my jude juice but enjoy loves.🫶

───────────⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎───────────

Jude is insanely proud to call you his girlfriend. He will find ways to bring you up in interviews, subtly (or not so subtly) mentioning “my girl” with the biggest smile.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The interviewer asked a question about Real Madrid’s recent win, but Jude's answer drifted somewhere else entirely.

“Well, the team’s been working hard, training’s been intense,” he started, nodding seriously, but then his gaze flicked toward someone just off-camera—you. The smile that spread across his face could’ve lit up Santiago Bernabéu. “But I’ve also got my girl keeping me grounded, you know? She’s been my peace through all the chaos.”

You could hear the PR manager let out a small sigh behind you—this was the third time he’d found a way to mention you during the post-match media rounds.

The interviewer chuckled, clearly charmed. “You always bring her up, man. Must be serious.”

“Yea of course,” Jude said without missing a beat. “She’s special. Keeps me focused, reminds me who I am when everything else gets loud. I’d be lost without her, honestly.”

Your cheeks burned, heat rushing to them despite the cool breeze drifting through the stadium tunnel. You tried to hide behind your phone, but you knew he’d seen the way your smile widened, how your eyes softened.

Later that night, curled up on the couch in his hoodie and your fluffy socks, he pressed a kiss to your temple and whispered, “I hope you know how proud I am to be yours. I’ll never stop talking about you. Ever.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin. “You’re gonna make people sick with how obsessed you are.”

“Let them be sick,” he laughed, pulling you closer. “I’ve got the best girl in the world—why would I keep that quiet?” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

He’s a big hand on your thigh guy when you’re sitting next to each other—whether you’re chilling at home or courtside at a game or something.

Late-night FaceTimes if he’s away for matches, even if he’s exhausted. If he falls asleep while talking to you, he wakes up the next morning with the goofiest grin.

Protective, but not possessive. If he ever hears someone talking about you sideways, he gives them a look, and they immediately rethink their choices.

Loves to post you subtly—like an artsy pic of you tying your shoes, or a blurry shot of you laughing, captioned with something dumb like “Don’t let her fool you, she’s actually evil.”

Physical touch is a must—forehead kisses, back hugs, and pulling you into him when you're walking together. He loves resting his chin on your shoulder.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ You didn’t need to look behind you to know it was Jude. His arms wrapped around your waist from behind, strong and familiar, pulling you into the warmth of his chest as he buried his face into the curve of your neck.

“Mmm, missed you,” he mumbled, voice thick from sleep. He’d only been in the other room, but Jude acted like every second apart was a mini heartbreak.

“You were gone for five minutes,” you teased, leaning back into him.

“Too long,” he said, smiling into your skin before pressing a slow kiss to your shoulder. “You smell good. What is that?”

“Peace,” you whispered, grinning.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your back, and you could feel the way his fingers traced lazy patterns along your waist. You started moving toward the kitchen, and just like that, he followed—fingers still linked with yours—before looping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you closer as you walked.

Every few steps, he’d give your hand a squeeze or nudge your temple with his chin. And when you finally stopped to pour yourself some tea, he rested his chin on your shoulder, watching quietly.

“This is my favorite view,” he said softly, his arms sliding around your waist again. “You. Right here. Just like this.”

You turned to face him, and before you could even speak, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment like he was grounding himself in you.

“You’re clingy today,” you whispered, smiling up at him.

“Always am,” he shrugged, unapologetic. “Can’t help it. I love you so much.”

And with another forehead kiss and his arms around you like you were his entire universe, you believed every word. ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

You two have a secret handshake—Jude made it up one day, and now he refuses to dap you up any other way.

Keeps your relationship somewhat private, but everyone knows how much he adores you.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ You weren’t in his Instagram photos, not really. A blurry hand reaching for coffee in the corner of the frame, your silhouette reflected in his sunglasses, your shoes next to his on a balcony in Ibiza. Jude had mastered the art of the “soft launch”—private, but not secret.

And yet… everyone knew.

The way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching? Yeah, people noticed. The way his whole face softened when your name came up in conversation? His teammates teased him about it relentlessly.

You were at a Real Madrid training session, tucked quietly off to the side, chatting with a staff member. Jude was supposed to be cooling down—but instead, he was walking straight toward you with that lazy, half-smile he only gave you.

“Bro’s whipped,” you heard Cama mutter under his breath, and someone else laugh.

Jude didn’t care. He came up behind you and rested his hand low on your back, fingers brushing the hem of your hoodie. Not a word, just a quiet, grounding touch that said mine without saying anything at all.

“You good, love?” he asked, low enough for only you to hear.

You nodded, biting your lip to hide your smile. “Go stretch.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your cheek, then whispered with a grin, “I’d rather stretch with you later.”

You swatted his arm and shook your head, cheeks warm.

Later that day, he posted a carousel on Instagram: one moody photo of the pitch, a candid of his boots, a video of a sunset—and the last slide, a blurry photo of you laughing, head thrown back, sunglasses on, your face barely visible.

No tag. No caption. Just a heart emoji.

The comments were a mix of detective work and soft chaos:

“We know that laugh anywhere.”

“Jude pls just hard launch her already.”

“His whole aura changes when he talks about her I can’t.”

“Idc who she is, just know he’s in LOVE love.”

And he was.

Even if the world never got a clear picture of you, everyone could see it in the way he smiled when he said “my girl.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

When he posts you on his story, it’s either a fire pic of you looking stunning or the most unhinged, blurry pic with “look at this menace” as the caption.

If you're at his games, he always looks for you in the stands. If he scores? He’s pointing at you immediately.

Whispers in your ear in public just to see you laugh, then acts like he said nothing.

You make fun of his accent sometimes, and he’ll mock yours right back.

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⭐︎ You were both curled up on the couch, sharing popcorn and watching a movie you weren’t even paying attention to anymore. Jude had just said something—something completely ordinary—but the way he said it made you snort.

“Lemme just grab me coat,” you repeated, mimicking his Birmingham accent with exaggerated vowels and wide eyes.

Jude turned slowly toward you, brows raised. “That’s how you think I sound?”

You nodded seriously. “Exactly like that. ‘Me coat,’ ‘me boots,’ like we’re in a medieval tavern or somethin.”

“Oh, you wanna talk accents now?” he grinned, shifting to face you fully. “Go on then, say ‘water.”

You narrowed your eyes, refusing.

“Go on, babe. Just say it. Say water.”

You sighed dramatically. “Water.”

Jude clutched his chest like you’d personally offended the Queen. “Wah-tuh? Nah, that’s criminal. Where’s the ‘t’? It just disappeared! It’s in witness protection!”

You burst out laughing. “It’s not witness protection, you muppet—it’s a regional dialect!”

“Yeah? Well your regional dialect makes it sound like you’re choking on a vowel,” he teased, eyes sparkling.

You stuck your tongue out at him and he leaned forward, catching your face in his hands like he was studying you.

“I love your accent,” he said suddenly, softer now. “Even when you butcher mine.”

You raised a brow. “You love when I butcher your accent?”

“Yeah,” he smirked. “’Cause then I get to do this—” He cleared his throat, then said in your voice, “‘Jude, can you rub my feet? Jude, can you bring me snacks?’”

“Wow.” You threw a pillow at him, but he caught it midair. “That’s exactly what I sound like.”

“You’re welcome,” he said proudly.

Later, as you lay together in the quiet, his hand tracing shapes on your arm, he whispered, “Say it again.”

You blinked sleepily. “Say what?”

“Water. Just once more. For me.”

You groaned. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Never,” he laughed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Say it again, then.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

You two have that best friends and lovers dynamic. One second, you’re being all soft with each other; the next, you’re arguing over who would survive longer in a zombie apocalypse.

Your best conversations happen when it’s just the two of you, late at night, half-asleep, tangled up in the sheets, talking about everything and nothing.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The world outside had finally gone still. No press, no training, no obligations—just the two of you, wrapped up in the quiet.

The sheets were twisted around your legs, one of Jude’s arms draped lazily across your waist, his fingers tracing slow circles on your skin. The only light in the room came from the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp he insisted on keeping on, “just in case you want water or somethin’.”

You were facing each other, noses nearly touching, his curls slightly flattened from your pillow. His voice was low, scratchy from sleep, and he was talking about something completely random.

“…and then I said, ‘Bro, why would you wear that in public?’ Like he looked like a traffic cone.”

You laughed, soft and muffled, trying not to wake the world outside your little bubble. “You’re mean.”

“I’m honest,” he grinned, eyes fluttering half shut.

There was a long beat of silence. Not uncomfortable. Just peaceful.

Then he asked, “Do you think this—us—is gonna last forever?”

You blinked, heart skipping a little. Not from nerves, but from the softness in his voice. Like he was handing you something fragile and precious.

You nodded slowly, brushing your fingers against his jaw. “I think it already feels like forever. Like I’ve known you in every version of my life.”

He smiled, eyes gleaming even in the dim light. “Yeah. You feel like home, y’know?”

A yawn slipped from his mouth mid-sentence and he buried his face in your neck, mumbling something about how good your skin felt.

You giggled, threading your fingers through his hair. “What if we wake up tomorrow and forget this whole conversation?”

“Then I’ll just tell you again,” he whispered, voice now a sleepy hum. “Every night and Forever.”

And with that, his breathing slowed, syncing with yours. The night held the two of you like a secret, tangled in sheets and sleepy truths, talking about everything and nothing—right where love lives. ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

He has this way of looking at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention—like you hung the stars just for him.

Sometimes, you’ll catch him staring, and he’ll just smirk. “What? I can’t admire my girl?”

Loves it when you play with his fingers absentmindedly while you’re watching TV.

Loves when you sit on the bathroom counter and talk to him while he gets ready for training.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ You were still in his t-shirt—massive on you, hanging just above your thighs—as you hopped up onto the bathroom counter, legs swinging gently. The early morning light spilled through the window, painting the tiles golden, and Jude was standing at the sink, toothbrush in hand, shirtless, curls still damp from his quick shower.

This had become a ritual: you, on the counter, rambling about everything from your dream last night to what you wanted for breakfast, while he got ready for training.

“…and then for some reason, I was chasing a llama through Westfield with a shopping trolley. I don’t know what that means, but I woke up so stressed.”

Jude spat out his toothpaste, laughing. “A llama? In Westfield?”

“Don’t judge me, dream logic doesn’t have to make sense.”

He reached for his moisturizer and glanced over at you, his eyes lingering just a second longer than necessary. “You’re so cute in the mornings. Still half-asleep, talkin’ nonsense, legs swingin’ like a little kid.”

“I’ll kick you,” you warned, grinning.

He leaned in and kissed your knee. “Yeah, go on then. Do it.”

You watched as he rubbed product into his face, muscles moving under smooth skin, his reflection calm and focused. You loved this version of him—off the pitch, still soft around the edges, yours.

“I like this,” you said quietly.

He looked up, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “What?”

“This. You. Getting ready. Me sitting here. Talking about llamas.”

He smiled, the kind of smile that made your chest ache a little. “Yeah? You know I only ever take this long 'cause I like when you sit there and talk to me.”

You blinked. “Wait, so you drag out your skincare routine just to keep me here longer?”

“Every morning,” he shrugged with a wink, grabbing his cologne. “Gotta soak you in before I go.”

You rolled your eyes, heart full. “You’re such a simp.”

He stepped between your knees and leaned in, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. “For you? Always.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

If you’re cooking, he’ll come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and press a kiss to your neck like it’s second nature.

If you’re on a plane together, he lets you sleep on his shoulder and makes sure you have a blanket.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The plane was somewhere over the Atlantic, cruising through a sea of stars and clouds, dimmed cabin lights casting a sleepy glow over everything. Most of the team had passed out hours ago, scattered through first class in hoodies and eye masks, legs stretched and headphones in.

But you?

You were curled up next to Jude, your head nestled perfectly into the curve of his shoulder, his Real Madrid zip-up jacket draped over your lap like a makeshift blanket.

He hadn’t moved since you dozed off—partly because he didn’t want to wake you, partly because he was savoring it. Your breath was warm against his neck, your hand resting lightly on his chest. Every now and then, you’d shift slightly, and he’d adjust without a word—tugging the blanket higher, brushing your hair away from your face, pressing the softest kiss to the top of your head.

He looked down at you, eyes soft, heart doing that quiet ache thing it always did when you were like this—peaceful, trusting, his.

You stirred a little, mumbling something incoherent, and he leaned in.

“Shhh,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “Sleep, baby. I got you.”

A flight attendant walked by, smiled when she saw you both. Jude just nodded politely, then turned back to you—his girl, fast asleep on his shoulder, wrapped in his jacket, flying somewhere between dreams and reality.

And in that moment, at 30,000 feet, he’d never felt more grounded.⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

Jude will never let you live down any embarrassing moment. Trips over nothing? “Damn, babe, you okay? Want me to carry you everywhere now?”

If you’re ever apart for too long, best believe he’s making up for it the second he sees you again. Long, tight hugs where he just breathes you in before whispering, “Missed you, baby.”

Texts You Mid-Training: Even when he’s busy, he sneaks a text like "Thinking about you. Hope you're having a good day ❤️”

Texts You From Across the Room: If you’re in a group setting, he’ll send you a stupid message like “You look mad cute over there” or “Let’s leave and get McDonald’s.”

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The room was buzzing—laughter, glasses clinking, music low in the background. You were seated across from Jude at a long dinner table, surrounded by mutual friends, some of his teammates, their partners, and way too many inside jokes flying around.

You were mid-conversation with someone when your phone lit up in your lap.

Jude 🤍 you look mad cute over there let’s dip and get maccies. just you + me + fries.

You bit your lip to hide your smile.

You looked up across the table. Jude was pretending to listen to whatever Vini was saying, chin resting in his palm, but the corner of his mouth twitched when your eyes met. He winked, quick and subtle, like he hadn’t just offered to abandon this semi-fancy dinner for fast food and alone time with you.

You texted back:

you’re insufferable. and yes, obviously.

His reply came instantly:

Jude 🤍 knew it. meet me by the coat rack in 10. we’ll ghost like legends.

You glanced at him again, and this time he was fully smiling. Not big and showy. Just that smug, quiet little smirk he got when he knew he had you wrapped around his finger—though, truthfully, you had him just as bad.

Ten minutes later, you were slipping on your coat as Jude “went to the bathroom,” and the next thing you knew, you were in his car, windows slightly fogged, shoes kicked off, sharing a large fries and singing terribly to the radio.

No cameras. No pressure. Just the two of you and a bag of McNuggets, laughing like you hadn’t just ditched a room full of people for something a little more you. ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

Steals Your Skincare Products: “Babe, what does this serum do?” Next thing you know, he’s fully committed to your skincare routine.

Puppy Dog Eyes When He Wants Something: “Baaaabe,” he drags out, giving you that look when he wants you to get up and grab something for him—even though he’s closer to it.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in your favorite blanket, halfway through an episode of Love Island, snacks perfectly balanced on your lap. Comfort mode: fully activated.

Jude was on the other end of the sofa, literally closer to the remote, phone charger, and the half-empty bottle of water on the table. But of course… that didn’t stop him.

“Baaaaabe,” he whined, voice stretching the word like he was auditioning for a soap opera. You didn’t even look up.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna ask,” he pouted.

“I do. You want me to get something that’s exactly three inches from your hand.”

“Okay but I’m comfortable,” he argued, which made you turn your head slowly and give him the look.

“I’m literally cocooned in this blanket. If I move, it’s over.”

He blinked. Then—there it was. The look. Puppy dog eyes, bottom lip slightly out, that soft little head tilt like he was the most pitiful boy in the world.

“Pleaseeee,” he said in the smallest voice. “My girl. My angel. My sweet love.”

You squinted at him. “Don’t try to butter me up.”

“I’d never,” he gasped dramatically. “But also… the charger’s just there. And my phone’s on 2%.”

You groaned but shoved the blanket off anyway, grabbing the charger and tossing it at him with the flair of a dramatic lead in a West End play.

“Happy now?”

He grinned, plugging it in and leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Ecstatic. Thank you, my love.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks were warm. Because yeah—he was a menace. A spoiled, dramatic, clingy menace.

But he was your menace. ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

One time you two went to a photobooth and he kept the picture in his locker

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ It had been one of those rare afternoons—just the two of you, no media, no training, no schedule. You were wandering through some tucked-away street in Madrid, iced coffees in hand, when you passed a tiny old-school photo booth tucked between a bakery and a record shop.

Jude stopped, took one look at it, and grinned. “Get in.”

You blinked. “Now?”

“Yeah,” he said, already pulling the curtain back. “We’re making core memories.”

The machine barely fit you both, knees bumping, laughter echoing off the tiny walls.

The first photo was mid-laugh—you hadn’t even been ready.

The second, you both tried to be serious but cracked up halfway through.

The third, he kissed your cheek, completely catching you off guard.

And the fourth?

He looked right at the camera, grinning.

You looked right at him.

When the strip slid out a few seconds later, you both stood there, staring at it, giggling like kids.

But Jude pocketed it.

“What—don’t I get a copy?”

“Nah,” he smirked, tucking it into his wallet. “This one’s for me.”

You thought nothing of it at the time.

Months later, one of the Real Madrid staff posted a behind-the-scenes locker room pic on Instagram—nothing wild, just a celebration moment after a big win.

But in the corner, barely visible, taped inside Jude’s open locker…

There it was.

The photo strip.

Slightly crumpled, edges worn, but still stuck right there next to his wrist tape and boots.

You zoomed in instantly, heart doing that stupid flutter.

The next time you saw him, you leaned against the doorframe of his room and said, “So… locker decorations, huh?”

He didn’t even try to act cool. Just grinned and shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“It’s my favorite photo. Why wouldn’t I keep it close?” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

The type to pull you in by your jaw for a deep, slow kiss before a match—just to get you flustered.

Will randomly kiss your shoulder if you’re sitting next to him, no reason needed.

If you ever feel insecure, he’s on it immediately. He won’t let you say anything negative about yourself. “Nah, I don’t want to hear that. You’re perfect to me.”

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ It was late—too late to be overthinking, but there you were, lying in bed, scrolling through photos on your phone. You’d been doing it for a while now, swiping through your feed, comparing, wondering, self-doubting.

Jude had been on his phone too, but his attention was split. He glanced over at you, saw the way your brow furrowed, the way you tucked your lip between your teeth.

“Babe?” he asked, his voice low and soft, pulling you from your thoughts. “You okay?”

You shrugged, offering a half-smile. “Yeah, just… nothing really.”

He wasn’t buying it. Not for a second.

He turned over, propping himself up on one elbow, studying you with that warm, concerned look of his. “Don’t lie to me. What’s going on?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “I just… I don’t know. I feel a bit off. Like, maybe I’m not doing enough, or—”

“Stop,” he cut you off immediately, his hand gently cupping your face. His thumb brushed the skin of your cheek like he was trying to erase the uncertainty there. “No. I don’t want to hear any of that.”

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“You’re perfect. To me. Always have been. Always will be.” His voice was firm, no hesitation. “And I don’t want you thinking otherwise. Not for one second. So if you’re gonna talk like that about yourself again, I’m walking out of this room.”

Your eyes softened, the words from earlier fading away in the warmth of his gaze. “But I—”

“No buts.” He kissed your forehead lightly, his lips lingering a moment longer than necessary. “You’re everything I need, okay? And if you ever feel like you’re less than that, I’m right here. You’ve got no reason to feel anything less than amazing.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding released. “I love you,” you whispered, your heart swelling.

He smiled, that soft, content smile you loved. “I love you more. But I’ll always remind you how perfect you are, even if you forget.”

You cuddled into his side, feeling like the weight of all your insecurities had been lifted, replaced with the quiet certainty of his love.

And as he pulled you closer, gently pressing a kiss to your temple, you knew you had everything you needed—because with him, you felt more than enough. ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

If someone flirts with you in front of him? He leans in and whispers in your ear, “You love making me mad, don’t you?” with that smug smirk of his.

If you’re ever in public and he catches you staring at him, he’ll lean in close, voice all deep, and say, “If you keep looking at me like that, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Will casually whisper something highly inappropriate in your ear during a party just to see your reaction. When you hit him, he just laughs. “What? I was just saying the truth.”

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The party was in full swing—loud music, chatter filling the air, and everyone mingling around. You were standing near the bar with a few of Jude’s teammates, a glass of wine in your hand as you chatted about nothing in particular, enjoying the warmth of the evening.

And then, from behind, you felt his presence—Jude sliding in beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned in close.

“Hey babe,” he murmured, his voice low, almost teasing. You barely had time to turn toward him before his lips were right next to your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

"You're looking incredibly hot tonight... Honestly, I’m not sure how I haven’t dragged you to the nearest bathroom yet.”

Your eyes widened, heart skipping a beat as you spun around to face him. “Jude!” you hissed, wide-eyed, but there was no stopping the smirk tugging at his lips.

He looked so damn innocent, but you could see the glint of mischief in his eyes. “What? I was just saying the truth,” he shrugged, laughing as your face flushed in embarrassment.

You swatted his chest playfully, but that only made him laugh harder. “I can’t believe you sometimes,” you muttered, trying to shake off the heat rising to your cheeks. “You’re lucky I’m not making this whole party uncomfortable.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arm around your waist. “I didn’t think you’d mind that much. But I’ll admit… I love how you react.”

You shot him an exasperated look, but inside, you couldn't help but smile. He always had a way of making you blush, even in the most inappropriate moments.

“Jude,” you warned, “don’t test me, okay?”

He leaned in for a quick kiss on your cheek, laughing again as he pulled back. “You love me, though. And you know it.”

You rolled your eyes but let him pull you closer, the teasing smile never leaving his face.

“Just wait,” you muttered under your breath, “I’ll get you back.”

He raised an eyebrow, that teasing gleam still in his eye. “I’m looking forward to it.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

When he’s feeling especially cocky, he runs his fingers over your lips while grinning. “So pretty… what else can that mouth do?”

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The atmosphere was a little different tonight—a bit more playful, a little charged with energy. You two were lounging on the couch at home after a night out with friends. The lights were dimmed, music softly playing in the background, and Jude was as relaxed as ever, his arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, his leg resting across yours.

You were mid-conversation, talking about something completely innocent—maybe a funny story about your day—but Jude wasn’t really listening.

He was watching you, eyes lingering on your lips as you spoke, a smug little grin slowly spreading across his face. You didn’t notice at first, too caught up in your own words, but then his hand slid closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your lower lip.

His grin grew wider. “So pretty…” he murmured, voice lower than usual, his thumb tracing over your lips gently. “What else can that mouth do?”

Your breath hitched, eyes darting up to his, catching the glint of mischief in his eyes. You opened your mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in your throat, your pulse quickening at the way he was watching you.

Jude was loving this—this was exactly the kind of cocky energy he thrived on. His fingers lingered just a little longer, pressing against your lips with a teasing, slow swipe, waiting for a reaction.

You finally managed to clear your throat, trying to stay composed, but you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “You’re such a menace,” you laughed, trying to brush off the sudden rush of nerves.

“Am I?” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice even more. “Or am I just being honest?”

You shot him a playful look, your hand reaching up to push his teasing hand away, but he caught your wrist, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I’d love to see tho…” His lips hovered just inches from yours, and you could practically feel the tension crackling between you.

You leaned in, closing the space between you, but just before your lips touched his, you pulled back with a teasing grin of your own.

“I think you already know,” you whispered, watching his smirk falter slightly as his breath caught.

He leaned back, looking both impressed and a little defeated. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

You winked, giving him a playful shove. “You started it.”⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

If you’re teasing him, he shuts you up with a kiss—gripping your face and kissing you so good that you completely forget what you were saying. Pulls you into his lap and runs his hands slowly down your back, deepening the kiss just when you think he’s done.

His voice drops when he’s in control. That deep, slow, teasing tone that makes your legs weak. “Oh, you’re quiet now? That’s cute.”

If he’s frustrated after a game, best believe he’s taking it out somewhere else. “Long day, love. Think you can help me relax?”

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The locker room was still buzzing with post-game chatter, but Jude was already a little distant—his mind too wrapped up in the frustration from the match. He had played well, sure, but something about the game hadn’t sat right with him. Maybe it was a missed opportunity or a mistake he couldn’t shake. Either way, he was feeling the pressure.

You could tell the moment he stepped through the door, his jaw clenched, his brow furrowed as he made his way to you. His teammates were still laughing, but he didn’t seem to hear any of it. His eyes were on you.

“Hey,” you said softly, trying to get his attention as he walked over to you, his heavy boots thudding against the floor. You didn’t need to ask what was wrong—he was clearly frustrated.

He leaned down, brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear, his voice dropping low. “Long day, love.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tough game?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, pulling you closer by the waist. His lips hovered near your ear, a quiet, almost possessive tone in his voice. “Think you can help me relax?”

The words made your heart skip a beat, the tension between you two shifting from casual concern to something far more intense. You could tell he needed to unwind, and you were more than happy to help, but you couldn’t ignore the way his fingers grazed your skin, or the heat in his eyes that made your pulse race.

“Relax, huh?” You teased, arching an eyebrow as you slid your hands up his chest, your fingertips lightly brushing against his collarbone. “And what exactly do you have in mind, Mr. Bellingham?”

He gave you that grin—the one that made your insides twist with anticipation. “I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Before you could respond, he gently tugged you into him, his lips pressing against yours in a deep, needy kiss. The kind that left no room for words, only the need to be closer, to forget the world outside of this moment.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath warm against your lips. “I need you, babe. You’re the only thing that’s gonna take my mind off this game.”

You nodded, your hands slipping around his neck as you melted into him. “Then let me take care of you.”

And with that, everything else faded away—the game, the frustration, the world outside. It was just the two of you, tangled in the quiet after the storm. ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

If you so much as whimper in his ear? He smirks immediately. “Oh? You like that, huh?”

Hotel room energy? Dangerous. He’s got nowhere to be, no training, just you and all the time in the world.

He loves running errands with you—even something as boring as grocery shopping. He’s pushing the cart, being silly, putting random snacks in, and pretending not to hear you when you tell him to put them back.

Denise absolutely adores you. From the moment she met you, she could tell you made Jude happy. “You bring out the best in him.”

Loves doing girls' days with you—shopping, brunch, spa days. Sometimes it’s just the two of you because Jude “complains too much when we take too long.”

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ It was a Saturday morning when Denise called, as usual. She’d been hinting for days about a girls' day, and you had a feeling she was more than ready for it. Jude was off with his teammates, so it was just the two of you, and the thought of a relaxing day away from the boys had you looking forward to it.

“Brunch first, then spa?” she asked, voice full of energy. “I know a place with the best mimosas.”

You grinned. “Sounds perfect.”

It was one of those rare days when you could let go of everything—no interviews, no cameras, just you, Denise, and a bit of fun. You met up at a cozy café, enjoying the morning sunlight pouring through the windows as you chatted over eggs benedict and fresh fruit.

Denise, as always, was full of stories. She told you about Jude’s childhood mischief, how he used to steal cookies when he was little, and how she could never stay mad at him for long. “He’s always been a good boy, even when he’s up to no good,” she laughed, sipping her coffee.

You laughed along, feeling the warmth of her words. “You really raised him right.”

Denise’s smile softened, a proud glint in her eyes. “He’s always been special, but you… you bring out the best in him.”

You blinked, touched by her words. “D…”

She waved her hand dismissively, her tone light but sincere. “It’s true. From the moment I met you, I could see how happy he was. You’re one of the best things that ever happened to him, and I’m so glad he found you.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, her words making you smile. “I’m just happy to be in his life. And yours, too.”

After brunch, you two hit up the shopping mall, roaming from store to store, trying on clothes, laughing at each other’s outfit choices. Jude’s complaints about you both taking too long were often brought up, especially when you made Denise laugh until she nearly spilled her iced coffee.

“Jude always says we take forever,” you said, pulling out a pair of shoes you thought would be perfect for a date night. “Honestly, he’s just grumpy because he doesn’t have the patience for this.”

Denise grinned. “That’s because he doesn’t get it. You and I—” she gestured between the two of you, “—we know how to shop properly.”

By the time you both made it to the spa, you were relaxed and feeling like you’d just experienced a little slice of heaven. Denise was the best kind of company: no stress, no pressure, just fun.

As you sank into the massage chair, Denise gave you a wink. “Next time, I say we turn off our phones, Jude complains too much.”

You burst out laughing. “I’m down for that.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

The first time you met Mark, he was lowkey intimidating, but within five minutes, he was cracking jokes and making you feel at home.

He’s a big storyteller, especially about Jude and Jobe as kids. If you’re ever at the Bellingham house, expect to hear childhood embarrassments on repeat.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ It was your second time at the Bellingham house, and you were still getting used to the chaotic energy that always filled the place. You had already spent time with Jude and Jobe, but this time, Mark was home, and you were more than a little curious to see what the dad of the Bellingham family was like in person.

When you first met him, you were a little intimidated—he had that aura of authority, the kind of man whose gaze could make anyone stand a little straighter. But the moment he greeted you with a warm handshake and a half-grin, any nervousness melted away. His voice was deep and full of humor as he immediately began cracking jokes about Jude and Jobe, easing you into the conversation without even trying.

“So, when these two were younger…” Mark started, leaning back in his chair as he sipped his coffee. “I had to spend hours in the backyard trying to teach Jude how to ride a bike. But the kid? He refused to listen to me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Oh yeah.” Mark chuckled, shaking his head. “He was convinced that if he just went fast enough, he’d be able to float. Like a superhero or something. So, one day, I look up, and there he is, barreling down the driveway, pedaling like mad. Guess what? The kid didn’t float, but he sure ended up in the bushes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, picturing a young Jude with all his determination, even if it meant a few bumps and bruises.

“Jobe, on the other hand…” Mark’s grin widened. “He was always the sneaky one. We had to hide all the cookies because he had a serious sweet tooth. One night, we caught him trying to sneak an entire box of biscuits under his bed. He didn’t think we’d notice, but the crumbs? The crumbs told a different story.”

You leaned back in your chair, grinning at the mental image of the younger Bellingham brothers getting into all kinds of mischief.

Mark’s storytelling was infectious. His laughter filled the room as he kept dishing out embarrassing memories, not just about Jude but also about himself. You could see where Jude got his charm and sense of humor from—Mark clearly loved to laugh, and he didn’t mind making fun of himself to keep the mood light.

As the stories continued, you felt completely at ease, as if you’d been a part of their family for years. It was hard to imagine that you’d ever been intimidated by Mark, because now, he felt like the kind of guy who could make anyone feel welcome.

“Anyway,” Mark said, finishing his story and giving you a mischievous grin. “You’ll be hearing a lot more of these embarrassing stories if you keep hanging around.”

You smiled, feeling completely at home. “I’m starting to think I might have to start collecting my own stories to tell about Jude.”

“Please,” Mark laughed. “I’m sure he’s got a few things to hide. But just remember, I have decades of ammunition on him.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

If you and Jude ever argue, Jobe is nosy as hell. He’ll pop up like, “Damn, what he do now?”

Lowkey wingman—if Jude is being dumb, Jobe will tell him. “Bro, just buy her flowers or something. You’re moving mad.”

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ You and Jude were in the middle of one of those perfectly normal, but totally unnecessary arguments. It had started over something silly, like whether or not he remembered to grab your favorite snacks during his grocery run. You were both talking over each other, trying to get your points across, but neither of you was really listening anymore.

"Jude, it’s not about the snacks!" you huffed, crossing your arms.

"It’s the principle!" he shot back, his voice rising slightly.

You rolled your eyes. "The principle? Really?"

The room was tense, both of you clearly frustrated, but neither willing to be the first to back down.

Just as things were starting to get heated, the door creaked open, and in walked Jobe, casually leaning against the doorframe with a curious look on his face.

"Damn," he said, eyes widening in exaggerated shock. "What’d he do now?"

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh, the tension breaking just a bit. Jude groaned, throwing his head back and muttering under his breath. "Not now, Jobe."

Jobe raised an eyebrow and took a few steps further into the room, giving you both a once-over before nodding to himself. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know that you two always look mad cute together. So what’s this about?”

You exchanged a look with Jude, both of you still a little riled up, but now there was an undeniable sense of awkwardness thanks to Jobe's nosy intervention.

“You really gonna let her get away with that?” Jobe said, pointing at Jude with a sly grin. “Bruh, just buy her flowers or something. You’re moving mad.”

Jude blinked. "Flowers? Really?"

Jobe gave him a knowing look. "Trust me, man. They fix everything. Women like flowers. You know, the nice kind, not those half-dead daisies you tried to give her last month."

You couldn’t help but laugh at Jobe’s honesty. Jude sighed dramatically, looking like he wanted to protest but knew deep down that Jobe had a point. "Fine," Jude muttered, rubbing his face. "Flowers. Can you leave now, Jobe?"

Jobe grinned, clearly having accomplished his mission. “I’ll leave you two to work this out, but don’t say I didn’t try to help.” He gave you a wink and casually strolled out of the room, leaving you and Jude in the quiet aftermath.

Jude turned to you with a sheepish smile, running a hand through his hair. "You know, he’s not wrong. I should’ve just gotten the flowers."

"Yeah, you should have," you said, crossing your arms and softening, your earlier frustration melting away. “But I’m glad Jobe stepped in. I think he saved you.”

Jude let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "I swear, he’s like my personal therapist sometimes."

"Maybe you should start listening to him more often," you teased, giving him a playful nudge.

"Don’t worry," Jude said, pulling you in for a hug. "Next time, flowers. I promise." ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

Football debates at the dinner table—Mark and Jude get so into it, and you just sit back, sipping your drink, waiting for it to end.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ Dinner at the Bellingham house always started off normal enough—Mark telling stories, Jobe sneaking bites before everyone sat down, and Jude’s hand resting on your thigh under the table like clockwork.

But somehow… somehow it always ended the same way.

“Listen, I’m just saying,” Mark began, fork pointing dramatically in Jude’s direction, “midfielders today don’t dictate the game the way they used to. Y’all are all about flair now. Where’s the control?”

Jude leaned back in his chair, mouth full of rice, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Control? Dad, you watched my last match, right? I was the control.”

“Oh, please,” Mark scoffed. “You had, what, 89% pass accuracy? You’re good, Jude, but you ain’t Zidane.”

That was the spark. And just like that, the match was underway.

You slowly leaned back in your chair, picking up your glass of wine—tonight, it was rosé, your favorite—and took a long sip. Jobe looked over at you, already smirking. “Round three,” he whispered.

You nodded. “Let them cook.”

“Dad, you always bring up Zidane. Times have changed! No one plays like it’s 2004 anymore.”

“And that’s the problem,” Mark shot back. “You all play like you’re trying to be TikTok highlights. Where’s the patience? The build-up play?”

You glanced at Jobe again, both of you silently enjoying the show. This was better than reality TV. Jude’s plate was half-forgotten, Mark was gesturing with a spoon like it was a mic, and honestly, if someone said "4-4-2" one more time, you were going to throw a dinner roll.

Eventually, when Jude started pulling up stats on his phone like it was a courtroom trial, you calmly reached for the last piece of garlic bread and leaned over to Jobe.

“Think they’ll still be arguing when we’re doing the dishes?”

Jobe snorted. “They’ll still be arguing when we’re in bed.”

You raised your glass. “To generational football beef.”

“Cheers to that.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

The type to carry your bag for you but tease you about how much stuff you packed. “Babe, are you moving there permanently or what?”

Matching airport fits because he swears y’all gotta travel in style. You take a mirror selfie before every flight.

Wants to do everything—from luxury experiences to acting like tourists with a paper map, he’s down for it all.

Takes the most ridiculous tourist pictures—poses dramatically in front of monuments, acts like a travel vlogger, and films you for memories.

If you go out for drinks by the beach, he’ll pull you onto his lap, arm around your waist, being extra touchy because vacation Jude has no self-control.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The sun was dipping low over the ocean, casting everything in that hazy gold glow that made your skin look extra dreamy and Jude absolutely feral. A salty breeze kissed your shoulders as the two of you sat out on the deck of a little beach bar—barefoot, slightly tipsy, with music playing low in the background and a half-melted daiquiri in your hand.

Jude was already watching you like you were the sunset, his fingers lazily tracing your thigh under the table.

You raised a brow. “You good, Bellingham?”

Without answering, he reached out, effortlessly pulling you onto his lap like it was second nature. His arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand flattening on your bare thigh.

“Mmm, better now,” he murmured, nose brushing your jaw as he pressed a soft kiss to the curve of your neck.

You laughed, sipping your drink with one hand, the other resting on the back of his head. “You’re so clingy on vacation.”

“Can’t help it,” he said, grinning against your skin. “You wear sundresses and lip gloss and expect me to behave?”

“You never behave.”

He shrugged, pressing another kiss to your shoulder this time, slower, more deliberate. “Not when you’re this close. Not when it’s just us. Not when you’re mine.”

You felt him smile against your skin as he added, “Also, I’m a few sips away from carrying you back to our room and forgetting this bar exists.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending to be unimpressed—but you stayed right there in his lap, happily tangled in him, letting vacation Jude be as extra and touchy as he wanted.

Because honestly? You liked him just like this. ⭐︎

extra...

⭐︎ You’d just gone to the bar to grab another drink for Jude—mostly because he gave you that look and said, “Baaaabe, I can’t feel my legs,” which was code for I don’t want to move, please and thank you.

So you went. Alone. For two minutes.

And that’s apparently all it took.

“Didn’t expect to see someone like you out here,” said a guy in a too-tight shirt and mirrored sunglasses, leaning a little too close as you waited on the bartender. “You local?”

You offered the most polite fake smile known to humankind. “Nope. Just here with my boyfriend.”

“That so?” he smirked, like that was an invitation instead of a boundary. “Bet he doesn’t appreciate you the way—”

“Yeah, she’s definitely here with her boyfriend,” came Jude’s voice—calm, cool, but edged with that warning tone you’d learned to recognize instantly.

You turned, relief flooding through you at the sight of him—shirt slightly open, curls messy from the wind, and sunglasses pushed up onto his head. Beach Jude was already fine, but possessive beach Jude? Whole other level.

He slipped his arm around your waist without missing a beat and tugged you back into his chest like he was reclaiming what was his. “You alright, love?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, then shooting the guy a tight smile. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

The other guy mumbled something and slunk off. You didn’t even clock where—too busy looking up at Jude’s smug, satisfied smirk.

“You’re so dramatic,” you whispered, unable to hide your grin.

He shrugged, rubbing slow circles into your hip with his thumb. “You like it.”

You leaned in close, brushing your lips just beside his. “I really do.”

And when the bartender handed you the drinks, Jude took yours, nodded in thanks, then leaned down and whispered in your ear, “Let’s go back. I’ve got… ideas.”

Vacation Jude had no self-control.

And you were absolutely fine with that. ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

Snowball fights—he doesn’t hold back. But if he accidentally hits you too hard? Immediate guilt mode. “Babe, I’m sorry, come here—wait, don’t hit me back!”

Cuddles in front of the fireplace—warm blankets, his arms wrapped around you, pressing lazy kisses to your forehead.

Hot cocoa dates where he lets you steal sips of his, even though you definitely have your own.

Probably the type to Immediately jumps on the bed when you enter the hotel room.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The moment the hotel room door clicked shut behind you, you barely had time to toe off your sandals before—

Thud.

Jude was already starfished in the middle of the bed, arms and legs spread out like he’d claimed a whole kingdom.

“Bags down, shoes off, I am one with the mattress,” he mumbled dramatically into the plush hotel duvet. “Don’t even think about moving me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You had one job. One. Put the key card in the light slot. Where’s the light—Jude!”

He peeked up, grinning like the menace he was. “I got distracted by how soft this bed is.”

“Mmhm. And the fact that you sprinted like a child?”

“Listen,” he said, rolling over and propping his head up with one arm. “It’s not a vacation till I belly flop onto a hotel bed. It’s tradition.”

You just shook your head, flicked the light on, and padded over to the edge of the bed.

“I’m not moving,” he warned. “This is now my spot.”

“You’re literally in the middle.”

“My spot.”

“You’re impossible,” you said, climbing onto the bed anyway, knees pressing into the comforter as you tried to navigate around his limbs.

He instantly grabbed you, pulling you down into his chest with zero effort.

“See?” he said smugly, voice muffled against your neck. “Comfy, right?”

You groaned into his curls. “You’re annoying.”

“You love me though.”

You rolled your eyes, but your hand was already in his hair. “Unfortunately.”

He chuckled, all warm and smug, and nuzzled into you. “We should order room service.”

“It’s 2 a.m.”

“I know,” he yawned. “You want fries or waffles?”

You smiled into his shoulder, sleep already tugging at your eyes. “Both.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

Takes mirror selfies with you in the big bathroom, flexing like an influencer.

When it’s time to leave, Jude always gets a little sad, holding you close before the flight back. “Can we just stay here forever?” and then you remind him that he has training

Posts an Instagram dump of your trip, and his caption is always something cute like “My favorite person.”

#relationship side with mirah🌺#mirahsworks🦫#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham oneshot #jude bellingham x black reader #rma #real madrid cf #real madrid #footballer x black oc #footballer x black reader #footballer x reader #football x reader #football #england nt

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fckmebarnes · 1 month ago

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slight nsfw…bucky fingers you quickly, idk man.

sigh, here i am thinking of bucky and bellflower while bellflower is pregnant with charlie

i can just imagine how protective bucky gets when he finally learns you’re carrying his pup. he can smell it before see it, & before you even realize. he’s more intune with his omega’s body than his own, but you didn’t mind.

it was weird at first, feeling the growing pains but without any growing. you weren’t even sure if you were rallying carrying a pup — you’re stomach didn’t bloat out like it should’ve and you just felt, the same.

but bucky knew.

he bought you multivitamins at the sign of you feeling sick. he pampered you way more often than normally — lotioning and massaging your feet, getting your favorite food from the store &/or take out shops. he was constantly doting on you, asking if you were feeling okay and seeing if you needed anything

then one day it was alike a switch flicked on in your brain and suddenly you were nesting. you gathered all the blankets and pillows you could find in the house, one of the dogs, Rosey, that bucky insisted on adopting after you both agreed to try to pups — followed you around like your own pup. eyes wide, ears perked and straight watching your every move.

you couldn’t shake the feeling something was different, something off. until you took a pregnancy test and saw it come up positive. tears leaked in your eyes as you read the test, eager to tell bucky. did he know? would he be excited?

of course he would — look how much he took care of you in the last few weeks. maybe that’s why he wouldn’t give you a second to breathe, not that you minded much

i am thinking about bucky’s hand resting over your bump the more it shows, how insatiable he can be with while you’re pregnant. he’s constantly eating your cunt out, fingering you any place he can because he needs to keep you filled

“can’t let anyone else get to ya,” he grunts into your ear as he has you in some secluded area after you two had a walk in the warmer weather. you were the one to wear a sundress while your bump showing a good amount.

his fingers swipe through your folds easily, slick catching on the pads of his fingers. you’re embarrassed with how easily turned on you get now, but he loves it. you’re almost as insatiable as him. “soakin’ for me…” he pushes his two fingers into your cunt, a moan emitting from your throat as you cling onto his frame.

he was secluding you from anyone else if they shortened to walk by. they’d just see two lovers embraced in each other. up close you’d be able to hear the obscene sounds of his fingers fucking your soaked pussy, his groans falling from his lips as you squeeze the digits

“gonna give me one baby? come on, can’t wait til we get home. please?” he begs against your neck as you let yourself go and cum around his fingers easily. his thumb barely even brushed your clit as he fucked into you. he loves touching you like this, making you come un done so easily, hearing your pretty moans fall from your lips as his fingers lazily continue to pump in and out of your hole

“let’s get you home, my pretty omega. don’t need any other alpha sniffing what’s mine out.”

#bucky blurbs .☘︎ ݁˖#bucky and bellflower 🌸#bucky barns imagine #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #anon #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader

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pullupinarari · 6 months ago

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Can’t wait to read sick lewis!!

a/n: this idea sounded way better in my head, but I can’t think straight at 3 am so I’m just going to bed 🤧 hope you enjoy this!! Mwah 🩷

Lewis wraps his arms around your figure while you sleep, spooning your frame with his own. You unconsciously delve further into his touch, only to be startled by the sensation of his body shaking against yours.

Slowly awakening, you hear the quiet sighs leaving your husband’s mouth. Knitting your eyebrows together, you check the clock - 5:48 am. Looking over your shoulder, you find a shrunken Lewis, wrapped tightly around the duvet, trying his best to find some source of comfort while still in a sleeping state.

His face is scrunched, as if he is in pain, and low whines leave his lips from time to time, his body never stops trembling as he seems to be freezing.

“Lew? Baby?” - you turn around, trying to wake him up, before putting the palm of your hand on his forehead. “Shit, baby wake up” - you insist, only to get a groan in response as Lewis finally opens his eyes.

“I’m so cold” - he complains, his voice sounding groggy and hoarse, trying to bury himself further on the mattress.

“You’re burning, baby” - you tell him, your reflexes kicking in as you get out of bed, reaching for your bathroom counter for some painkillers and something that can help with your husband’s fever.

Coming back to bed, you can barely see Lewis due to the way he keeps diving deeper in the sheets, wrapping himself in them like a burrito, almost hiding his entire face in the middle of the ocean of layers in front of you.

The sight is heartbreaking, truly. Opening a bottle of water, you hand him the pills, noticing how his movements are slow, looking like he is putting extra effort into stretching out his arm to take the medicine into his hand.

“Are you in pain, baby?” - you ask, sitting again beside his figure, your hand gently caressing his neck and shoulder while he sips the water.

He nods slightly. “My body hurts like a bitch” - Lewis coughs a bit in between his words, groaning as he realizes that he caught one hell of a flu, now.

You frown at his words, opening your arms to welcome his shivering frame, engulfing him in your arms, trying your best to warm him up.

Bodies lying next to each other, limbs entangled while you’re both safely covered by the warm duvet, Lewis’ head is lying on your chest, breathing in your scent as his hands reach for your hips. He sniffles a bit, but still finds the strength in himself to leave some soft kisses on your collarbone and neck - sweet, innocent, warm. A silent way to thank you for holding him, for taking care of him.

In between coughs and sniffles, his body slowly stops shaking as he starts feeling warmer, relaxing as your fingers intertwine with his hair, softly caressing his scalp. Your lips land silky kisses on his forehead, still feeling the temperature of his skin - much hotter when compared to your own.

Lewis looks up, his tired eyes meeting yours - it’s too early in the middle of the night, but he still wants to admire you, even while feeling like a truck ran him over. Your hand caresses his cheek smoothly, and you can’t help but lean your face into his, connecting your lips in a soothing kiss.

Your husband groans - “you’ll get sick as well”, he complains. No matter how much he loves feeling your lips moving in sync with his, his protective side still stands out, not wanting to be the reason for you to end up sick in bed, just like him.

But you can’t help but let a small smile show, finding him so adorable, even if he is feeling fragile, sore, small - he is still your overprotective half. “It’s okay” - it’s all you say, kissing his lips again, before tucking both of you further into the sheets, trying to get some more rest for what’s left of dawn.

During his sleep, Lewis sweats out his weight, his body fighting the fever pooling inside of him. 7:24 am - he wakes up in a coughing fit, untangling your bodies for the first time to distance his mouth from you, coughing in the direction of his elbow. You sigh softly, rubbing your temples before getting up.

You go to the kitchen, preparing a warm tea with honey and ginger that will definitely help Lewis’ sore throat - he really needs it.

The stickiness surrounding his clothes and skin makes him feel uncomfortable, but he still gives you a kind smile when you come back to the room with his favorite mug in your hands, placing it on his nightstand. “Let it cool down for a bit, it’s hot” - you inform, checking his temperature again - at least the fever is gone.

You open the closet, taking out a fresh pair of sheets, your actions silently asking Lewis to leave his haven temporarily so you can change the bed.

Slowly getting up, he blows some cold air on the tea, slowly sipping on it - humming at the way the warm liquid feels good in his mouth now.

As you throw the old sheets on the floor, your husband can’t help but bury himself on the pile that you formed in the middle of your room with the bed covers, not having any strength in himself to move, and refusing to sit on a chair in the corner. He whines lowly, still keeping his mug close to him, sipping on his tea from time to time.

Your hand caresses his back gently as soon as you finish making the bed, yawning due to your own lack of rest, and your husband looks at you briefly, before putting down his drink and hugging your figure, lying you two back in bed.

The groan that gets caught in his throat is evident - his body is still killing him. His nose is now clogged, making it hard for him to breathe.

One sniffle after the other, the man finally speaks. “I’m sorry for being a pain in the ass” - his clogged nose makes his accent sound funnier now, and he lays his head back on his pillow gently as you chuckle at his words.

“You’re not a pain in the ass, dummy” - you kiss the tip of his nose, followed by a trail of caresses across his cheek. “I’m here to take care of you. I’m fine, as long as you are fine, remember?” - you wink at him, reminding him of the line of your wedding.

You would never leave his side, and Lewis knows that. But he hates feeling this vulnerable, this dependent. He hates to know that you barely got any sleep last night because of him being sick. But he can see into you, and he knows that you are the safe place that he can always run to - you will always hold him tight to you.

The man holds your hand gently, muffling his coughing for a bit before kissing your knuckles gently. “And I’m fine, cause I know that you are mine” - his hoarse voice admits, hugging you as tight as his weak figure can now, not planning on letting you go away from his side anytime soon.

#Lewis blurbs #lewis hamilton blurb #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #thoughts about lewis #asks 💌#lewis hamilton

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losers-clvb · 4 months ago

Text

mayor's banquet pt. 2 // sam winchester

pairing: sam winchester x female!reader

summary: you and sam do not get along. after a hunt where you're put in danger, you're forced to come to terms with the fact that you two are more compatible than you think.

content: enemies to sort of lovers, canon typical violence, arguing, maybe out of character sam and dean, no use of y/n, reader is about to be killed at end

word count: 2.7k

note: i lied. it's gonna have to be three parts. sorry! but the last part will be out later today (it's currently 1:25 am on 1/2 for me), and that will contain the smut. if you haven't already, read the first part of this before continuing on, and if you were looking forward to the smut, check out my other sam winchester fic. for everyone who has liked and reblogged the other fic, thank you so much!

masterlist part three

----

You woke up to a low chuckle at the end of the bed. You were first confused, then you felt a pair of muscled arms holding you close. Your own arms were wrapped around Sam, putting the two of you in a very damning position. And there, at the end of the bed, was the witness to this. Dean, who shot you a bright smile.

“You look so sweet like this.” He said, in his typical Dean sarcasm. “Not like the usual pain in the ass you two normally are.”

You moved away from Sam, waking him in the process. You looked each other in the eyes, daring the other to speak. This ended with you moving off the bed, already missing the warmth that Sam had offered you. It had been a couple years since you had woken up in someone’s arms and it had been nice for a moment. Until you realized they were Sam’s and you knew there was no way you could ever have admitted to enjoying his company.

Dean laughed again as Sam sat up. The older Winchester brother looked like he had been up for a while, having already gotten dressed and ready for the day. It would be a long one. You three had to think up a way to kill not only George Wilson, but also the rest of his family. It wouldn’t be easy but when was it ever easy in any situation you found yourself in.

“Guess he’s a cuddler, huh?” Dean joked and nudged you with his elbow. Laughter danced in his eyes while a storm cloud stirred in yours. You weren’t enjoying his little game of embarrassing you, and from the look on Sam’s face, he felt the same. You turned away, hauling your bag onto the bed. As you moved to go into the bathroom to change, you felt eyes on you. They weren’t Dean’s, he was currently outside on the phone, chatting away to Bobby. You moved your head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of the brunette watching you move. You scowled, causing him to look away quickly. You assumed he was so invested in you because he was searching for some way to make what had happened your fault. If only you knew what was going on in his mind.

Sam had known he was in love with you for around a month now. He felt it when his heart fluttered when you were around. When you smiled or laughed, making him want to do the same. It was something he wasn’t prepared for when you had joined their team. In fact, he had hated you at first. He truly thought you would just get in the way of saving his brother from going to Hell. That you would just be another person he had to keep safe. Somewhere between then and now he had seen keeping you safe as a basic responsibility rather than a chore. He had wanted to tell you, but as far as he knew you hated him. So, out of some sense of self preservation, he had begun to put walls up around him. He would argue with you about small things, like where everyone would eat. If you wanted to fight, then he would fight. He tried not to start them, but sometimes, you would do just the right thing that would make his heart reach for you, and in a sick way to protect himself he would lash out on you. It didn’t make sense, but love didn’t make sense, right?

As you opened the door to exit the bathroom, you came face to face - or face to chest - with Sam. You looked up at him, frowning when he didn’t move right away. He cleared his throat before shifting to let you pass, but your shoulder still brushed him on your way out. You tilted your head in confusion and turned towards the now shut bathroom door. You were still staring at it when Dean came back into the room.

“Are you trying to memorize the wood grain? We got things to do, come on.” He spoke in his usual joking lilt. You turned to face him and rolled your eyes. His words did get you moving and you continued the things you had to do.

“Does Sam seem… weird to you?” You asked with a low voice, careful to not let Sam overhear. Dean looked at you with a smirk and you instantly regretted saying anything.

“Well, are you sure you didn’t try to feel him up in the middle of the night?” Dean waggled his eyebrows. The door to the bathroom opened to reveal a confused Sam.

“Who’s she trying to feel up?” Sam asked which caused you to roll your eyes again, this time in real annoyance. You quickly finished what you were doing before walking out of the motel room and slamming the door behind you.

----

It was already dark out by the time you had made it outside the bar. You were slightly early in hopes that you could get there before George to prepare yourself. Unfortunately, he had beat you there. You had to admit that he was handsome. If you could get past the whole immortal being who performs human sacrifices, he would be quite the catch.

You walked towards him and the only sound in the area was the clicking of your heels. You had gone shopping this afternoon for a second hand formal dress and shoes, alone because Dean hadn't wanted to sit there and there was no way you were asking Sam. The get up wasn't your usual style due to the limits in movement it put on you but it was better suited to the occasion than your usual jeans and t-shirt. When you revealed the outfit to the boys, it was like watching a reality makeover show. Dean shot you a few suggestive comments, yet Sam was silent. You could have sworn you saw his jaw flex and a fire roar in his eyes, but he didn't say anything, good or bad, about your change.

“You look beautiful tonight.” George spoke with a flirty undertone.

“You don't look too bad yourself, Mr. Wilson.” George was wearing a suit, minus any kind of tie. You watched as his eyes lit up in what reminded you of a cat when it set its eyes on a mouse. It left you feeling uneasy but you told yourself that Sam and Dean would be around all night long with weapons far deadlier than the knife you had hidden on your side.

“Oh please, Mr. Wilson is my father.” George told you while taking you hand in his again. This time you were prepared for the chill and held through. You smiled warmly at him as he led you to the banquet.

----

An hour had passed by before you spotted Sam and Dean. They were dressed in their usual suits, the ones they used to pose as FBI. You locked eyes with Dean and he sent you a charming smile. Sam only rolled his eyes and turned away as George spun you in circles. You had only been dancing for a few minutes, but you were already starting to forget why it was so important to kill this man. He was so charming, so patient, so…

“Who are those guys? Your brothers… cousins maybe?” You heard the words close to your ear as George held you close, dancing to a slow song. You laughed softly at the idea of it.

“Just close friends.” You replied as you felt his hand fall down your back. You watched as Sam and Dean turned a corner, going to find the room where you were supposed to lure George. They looked to be arguing, or more of Sam arguing while Dean laughed, assumingly making jokes about whatever Sam was frustrated about. You held on to George, forcing yourself to not get caught up in his glamour. Your eyes darted to a clock on the wall, seeing that it was almost the time when you were supposed to sneak the man away.

“Do you wanna go somewhere more… private?” You purred in his ear. You felt both of his hands go to your hips.

“Anything for my dazzling date” was the last thing you heard before being led in the same direction Sam and Dean had gone.

----

Meanwhile, Sam was absolutely losing it. Dean knew everything. Every thought Sam had about you, every feeling. He had figured it out a small amount of time before Sam had, seemingly knowing his brother better than he knew himself. Of course, his first reaction to his little brother telling him was sliding a condom across the motel table while you were out. Little did Dean know that he would become his brother's sole confidant. Any time you made him flustered or angry, Dean had to hear about it. Tonight was no different when he spotted George's hand on your lower back.

“Come on Dean, why couldn't we have done this without her? Left her in the room where she would be safe and not have some immortal man groping her.” Sam whispered angrily. He listened to his brother chuckle, which only made him huff out a breath.

“This was her plan, Sammy. She knows what she's doing, and she needs to be the one to do it.” Dean replied as he searched for any lingering guests in the hallways. The last thing he needed was some old lady asking why he was there.

Sam knew his words were true. Of course he did. It was the same for him when they were looking for Azazel. He needed to kill the demon that had killed his mother. It still didn't stop the image of you so close with George flash behind his eyes every time he blinked.

Once they reached the room they needed, they started to set up. Rope and duct tape hidden behind a vase to contain the family members when they entered the room. They made sure any other exits were blocked off. They couldn't mess this up. Overnight, there were two more deaths, which left one sacrifice before the only time in this century to kill the family would pass. They knew whatever scared townsperson that was chosen would be hard to deal with once the fighting began, but there wasn't much they could do about that.

Now, all they had to do was wait for you and George to walk through the door.

----

You didn’t remember when it had started, but you were making out with George Wilson. It felt like you were in a dream. Your head was fuzzy and his hands were everywhere. The pair of you moved down the hallway in a tangle of limbs. His kiss was rough with no intent to bring you pleasure. You knew you should stop, knew this was wrong, it was all wrong. But you couldn’t. Maybe, just maybe, George was good. Maybe he was against everything his family had done. You were almost ready to throw the whole “killing him” thing out the window when you heard him say your name.

You stopped with a sharp intake of breath. You hadn’t told him your name. It hadn’t come up all night, he hadn’t asked, and you were sure you had never said it. You pushed away from him. He hung his head low as a laugh rattled from his chest. His eyes had lost the charming glint from earlier.

“You never told me your name, did you?” George asked. He stalked towards you while you backed up. Eventually your back hit the wall and you reached for the knife on your thigh. You could feel him growing closer and once he was within range, you swung your arm towards him. The blade nicked his cheekbone, causing a trickle of blood to run down his face. That was all it could do however, because he grabbed your wrist and twisted it until you dropped the weapon. You cried out in pain and hoped it wasn't broken.

“Do you really think you can kill me? Your great grandmother couldn't.” George sneered as he pushed you to your knees. He grabbed you by your hair and dragged you to a nearby room. It wasn't right. No, this wasn't the right room. Sam and Dean weren't here, the weapons and ropes weren't here. You scratched at George's arm and though it drew some spots of blood, he didn't even flinch.

“And your mother? God, she was a sorry excuse for a hunter. She was never going to kill me, kill us.” George rambled on as he threw you to the middle of the floor. You fell with a thump, trying your best to regain your thoughts. How could you do this by yourself, how could you get out of this? You felt George's hands on you again and you kicked at him. What was he doing?

He jumped away, but not before wrapping his hand around your phone. He opened it and searched through the contacts. You could feel a throbbing pain on your head.

“Ah. Here we go.” George said, smiling at you. He kneeled down to your level. “The Winchesters, a troublesome pair. You're going to tell them everything was a mistake, that you had it wrong like the stupid bitch you are, and I'll consider killing you quickly. You falter once and I kill all three of you.” He growled out the last part while daring you to object. You breathed in, still trying to find a way to get out of this. He had to have weapons somewhere, right?

He held the phone up to your ear. You heard the ringing of the line trying to go through before someone picked up. When you heard your name, something flipped in your brain. Sam. The stupid son of a bitch called Sam. You knew what you had to do, how you could tell them without actually saying it.

“Sam, I was wrong. About everything. It's some local asshole who's killing people. George and his family, they're good people,” you cut a glare to George with the last three words, “they wouldn't hurt anyone. Just go back to the room. I'll meet you there after the banquet.” You paused, waiting for the man in the other line to catch up to your words.

“Um, okay?” Sam replied, confusion lacing his words. “Are you sure? You were pretty adamant about this yesterday.”

“Yes, I'm fine. Just - I gotta go.” You stopped, trying to make your next set of words believable to George. “I love you, Sam.” You felt the phone pull away as George snapped it shut, ending the call. You rolled your eyes, feeling nothing but annoyance and hatred for the man in front of you.

“Aw, wasn’t that just so sweet?” George mocked you as he walked about the room. He was gathering items as he walked. He held braids of ribbon, one of which he tied snugly around your head as if it were a crown. It was then you knew what he was doing. You were the last sacrifice. You knew he was going to kill you, but you just assumed it would have been after everything was said and done. He snatched your hands together before tying them in front of you with another ribbon. He pulled you to your knees and forced you into a position that made you look like you were praying.

“You know, I killed your great grandmother. Yeah, she was difficult at first, but it was oh so sweet to slice my blade across her neck.” George pulled an ancient looking knife from a drawer. He walked a circle around you as if trying to take a mental picture of this moment. He stopped behind you. You felt his cold touch on the side of your head and his cold blade touch your neck. You closed your eyes, feeling fear wash over you. This was the closest to death you had been. Your heart felt like it was about to stop in your chest. You hoped Dean would find you soon, hell, you were to the point of wanting Sam to come to your rescue.

“And I bet your blood is going to look just as beautiful.” George finished.

#x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester fic #sam winchester x reader #spn #supernatural x reader #dean winchester

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aoi1dee · 9 months ago

Text

OLNF Week Day 2: Sick Days

@olnfweek2024 a short fic is down below...

Alex should’ve known playing in the rain with Tamarack yesterday was a bad idea. They were originally supposed to be playing tag in her backyard or maybe picking up forest items to share with each other but when it suddenly started raining, Alex was already grabbing his stuff to go inside. Tamarack had insisted that they’d stay out in the rain just for a little bit. The first thing that came to mind was the movie scenes of couples dancing in the rain with each other. But the second thought that came was ‘What if Tamarack fell and hurt herself?? She wouldn’t have anyone there to help her!!’ so of course he had to stay to protect her (and also to dance with her)

But he should’ve tried to convince her more to go inside because now here he is at 6 in the morning laying down in his bed with his Mama sitting on the edge with her hand over his forehead.

“Alexander… I told you this would happen.” She truly did. It was the first thing she said when he walked into the house dripping water all over the place, “I’ll call you off from school for today and I’m also going to call off of work.”

Alex grabs onto his Mama’s hand, “Mama, you don’t have to do that!” He didn’t want his Mama to miss a day of work because he had a simple cold; she had way more important things to do than to take care of him.

“I will do that; you are way more important to me than one shift.” She explains with a gentle smile, “Plus I’m sure my co-workers wouldn’t care if I missed one day. They will call me if they need anything.” Mama moves her hand to ruffle his fluffy brunette hair making it more messy than before. She gets up and looks down at him, “My phone is downstairs. I will come back with a wet towel and medicine after I am done, alright?”

“Okay… Thank you Mama...” He watches his Mama head out of his bedroom. When the door closes shut, the only thing he can hear is winds hitting the side of the house and the worry filled thoughts that started to fill his mind.

Of course he had to get sick… what if Tamarack and Qiu wanted to walk to school with him? Oh and there could be a group project today too and they would want to partner up! Oh and what would he miss during class… What if it is extremely important or a pop quiz?? That would be the worst, having to show up to school tomorrow and taking a quiz while everyone else is caught up… He absolutely had to go to school! He didn’t want to miss anything!! His friends needed him there!!!

He dragged himself out of bed as quickly as he could. His whole body shivered when his bare feet touched the cold wooden tiles. He tip toes his way to the door then suddenly…

Ding Dong!

Without a second thought, Alex opens his door and makes his way downstairs. He stands still staring at the front door which is being held open by his Mama. He needs to know who is at the door.

A familiar voice comes from the door, “Is Alexander ready for school? I knocked earlier but nobody answered.” He knew it! Qiu was going to ask to walk to school with him today! That was him at the door! Alexander starts running towards the door which his Mama was blocking but he was suddenly falling towards the ground instead!! Alex must’ve slipped on his pajama pants… He felt arms wrapped around him catching him from smacking his face on the floor. His Mama had saved him! She pulls him up to stand straight again, “What are you doing down here? You should be resting.”

“Wait resting???” He looks up at the door to find a new familiar voice. Tamarack stands there staring at Alex peeking out from behind Qiu. She is holding her big sleeves to her face with a worried expression.

“Alexander won’t be coming to school today. He got sick from playing in the rain yesterday.” Mama explains with a gentle tone hoping to not freak her out but knowing Tamarack, she was going to freak out anyways.

“WHAT?” Tamarack screeched, “US PLAYING IN THE RAIN GOT HIM SICK??!!” Tamarack runs past Alex’s Mama and wraps her arms around him holding him tighter than ever before. Sure he absolutely loves her hugs, they’re the best thing in this silly world, but this one felt like Tamarack was not going to set him free anytime soon.

“I’m glad you care about his health Tamarack but you don’t want to get sick either.” Tam’s eyes were watery when she was being slowly pulled away from Alex by Qiu.

“Can we come back later?” Qiu asks letting go of Tamarack’s sweater.

“No, I'm sorry. Like I said I don’t want you two getting sick.” The door creaks as she slowly begins closing the door on them, “Have a good day you two. Alexander will be back on his feet tomorrow.” Qiu and Tamarack give the two Morellos the biggest disappointed frowns in the world as the door finally closes. Mama looks down at Alex letting go of the handle and locking the door, “Let's get you that stuff I promised you earlier.” She grabs onto Alex’s hand and leads him towards the kitchen.

Mama opens one of the cabinets nearest to the fridge they named ‘The Health Cabinet’ which is covered in Vitamins and prescription pills. The two of them don’t get sick very often so Mama has to pull out Children’s Tylenol from all the way in the back. They should be grateful they even have it. She opens the tiny box which holds the bottle filled with the medicine and a cup with measurements on top. Grabbing the cap and opening the sealed bottle, she pours the purple medicine into the measuring cup making sure it is the right measurement for a small 10 year old like Alex.

She hands the small cup to Alex, “Here you go,” Alex looks down into the cup with the thick purple liquid, “Oh don’t make that face… it should taste like grapes.” She shows the box to Alex which says at the bottom right ‘Grape Flavored.’ Finally convinced, he quickly downs the medicine, “See it wasn’t so bad” She chuckles as she takes the cup from him and places it in the sink to be washed later, “Let’s get that towel so you can head back to bed.”

After grabbing the towel from the cupboard and wetting it with cold water from the sink, Mama leads Alex up the stairs back to his bedroom. With a shove from Mama, the bedroom door opens to the bedroom Alex so desperately wanted to leave around 10 minutes ago. He finds his way to his bed and lays down on top of it. Mama pulls the covers over him and places the cold wet towel on top of his forehead. He shivers as the sudden feeling but quickly gets used to it.

“This should help you cool down okay? It is what my Ma used to do when I was sick.” She smiles down at him, “Goodnight Alex; get some rest okay?”

He nods his head smiling back at her, “Goodnight Mama”

Mama walks through the open door closing it behind her leaving Alex to the wind pushing against his old house and the branches outside of his window leaving shadows on the floor of his bedroom. The bed creaks as he slightly adjusts his position to get more comfortable in bed without the towel falling off of his forehead. No matter how much he adjusts and how much the bed creaks, he can’t seem to find a good spot to rest. Alex starts to squirm and kicks his sheets off of the bed onto the floor. At this point he doesn’t even care about all of his belongings falling onto the floor; he just wants to sleep. Finally, the spot he’s been desperately looking for was found. He feels his body sink into the mattress as dreams take over…

-----------------

Suddenly his door slams open and bangs against the wall. Alex’s eyes open wide coming back from dreamland and the first thing he sees is two forms running towards him with unimaginable speed. He does what any other 10 year old kid would do when he sees people running towards him…

He screams at the top of his lungs.

“Ah! Sorry Alexander! We didn’t mean to scare you!” The form suddenly becomes more recognizable now that it’s not running towards him.

“Qiu?” Alex’s eyes brighten towards his friend.

“HI ALEX!!! How are you doing? Are you feeling better? Did we wake you up? What were you dreaming about?” Oh and there was Tamarack too!!

She hopped closer and closer to him with more and more questions until Qiu placed a hand on her shoulder, “We don’t want to overwhelm him.” She looks back at Qiu then back at Alex.

“I’m sorry Alex! We’ve just been thinking about you all day!!” She slaps both of her hands onto her face and they slowly slide down turning her cheeks pink, “We were just so worried about you that we ran home!” Alex’s heart dropped. They should’ve been more focused on school, not him with a silly fever…

“I’m sorry for worrying you guys…” He grips onto his- wait where were his sheets? He frantically looks back and forth. Qiu bent down and pulled the bed sheets from on the ground next to his bed and handed them back to Alex.

“Hey you don’t have to be sorry.” Qiu says reassuringly as Alex grabs the sheets from Qiu’s hands, “Blame the world for getting you sick! How dare they!!” He wags his fist towards the sky to show his true anger for what the world has done to poor little Alexander.

Tamarack looks down towards the wood tiles, “I’m sorry Alex…” She sniffles, “If I didn’t make you play in the rain yesterday, you wouldn’t be sick…” Tamarack covers her face with her hands.

Alex moves closer towards the edge of the bed, “It's okay!” He holds onto her hands bringing them away from her face, “I had fun yesterday. I would get sick any day if it meant I could have that much fun with you again.” He smiles at her.

Tamarack looks Alex in the eyes, the tip of her nose and cheeks a little pinker than when she dragged her hands down her face, “Really..?”

“Yeah” He squeezes her hands as he smiles more.

“You couldn’t have known he would’ve gotten sick, don't push yourself too hard, Tamarack.” Qiu reassures her.

She smiles at the both of them then suddenly, “Ah right!” She exclaims as she plops down next to Alex on his bed, “We need to share all the stuff that happened at school today!”

“Oh yeah! How could we forget!!” He chuckles as he sits down on the other side of Alex.

Alex shuffles between them to get comfortable, “Um.. did something important happen? What did I miss?” He fiddles with the edge of his gray t-shirt the thoughts about a possible pop quiz coming up again. Tamarack scoots in as close as she can to Alex’s other side almost face to face with him. Apparently neither of them cared about getting sick.

Wait a minute… “How did you two get in?” He wonders as he looks back and forth at them frantically hoping and praying that they didn’t sneak in without Mama’s knowledge. He didn’t want them to be sick and in trouble.

“Oh!” Qiu smiles as he begins to explain, “We came back right after school to try and convince your Mama again to let us hang out with you in your room. Obviously she said no because you needed to get better but I came up with an idea…” That smile turns into a sly grin full of nothing but mischief, “We said that we were just going to give you your missing homework and tell you about what we learned today”

“Oh… where is the homework?”

An awkward silence was shared between the three of them.

“WE FORGOT YOUR HOMEWORK AT SCHOOL!!!” They both shout as Alex quickly covers his ears.

“I’m so sorry Alex I guess we were just so distracted about seeing you again that we totally forgot to take your homework with us…” Qiu explains as they both look down full of pure shame. A sudden laughter took over. Alex holds his stomach unable to control his laughter. After a second, his two neighbors joined in on his laughter. Laughter filled the once empty room making it a sick day to remember for the rest of their lives.

#olnf #our life now and forever #our life #digital art #drawing #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #olnf week #olnf week day 2 #sick #sick days

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kwanholic · 2 months ago

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what about some etl seungkwan?!??! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

enemies to lovers — boo seungkwan

pairing; co-star!seungkwan x afab!reader

genre; enemies to lovers, smut (mdni!!)

word count; 1,9k

warnings; not proofread, making out, protected sex, unprotected sex, idk i haven’t done any warnings in so long help

a/n; tysm for the request!! >< i am actually so sorry for taking mooonths to write this…. i honestly just lost motivation for writing for a little bit but i hope this is good…! (i rewrote this probably a million times)

divider by @/cafekitsune

seungkwan and you, the main couple in the upcoming romance drama. for you, this was your first big role in your time of being an actor. for seungkwan though, this was one of many.

the rest of the cast and the crew thought you had knew each other before, which was true. just not in the way they’d think. you two had known each other since middle school, both dreaming of becoming actors. seungkwan had an upper hand though. he came from an already successful and wealthy family while you were just a nobody.

since you both were young, of course you despised each other. both of you had the same dream, always bickering about who’d become a ‘better actor’.

you thought you wouldn’t see seungkwan ever again after graduating from university, but your wishes were not fulfilled.

you had auditioned for this romantic drama and to your surprise, you had gotten the female lead role. you were truly so happy, celebrating for days about your first major role. until you had the first cast meeting.

your eyes locked with seungkwan, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table. he had that same stupid smirk on his face, the same one he always had while you two argued at school. you had seen seungkwan on tv, always one of the main roles in any drama that aired. you wished you could just forget his face, forget about his existence, but it was too hard with how much he appeared on every screen you had.

there were always news articles about him on your phone, he was in almost every drama, he appeared in every talkshow whenever a new series of his came out. you were sick of him.

and you weren’t even surprised when you looked down, seeing the words ‘male lead’ with big letters on the paper he was holding.

“it’s been so long since i’ve seen you, y/n. have you been well?” he asked you, your eyes darting back up to his face. you wish you could say the same.

“i’ve been alright.” you replied shortly, not wanting to spend your time talking with him. nothing good would come out of it either way. you were so glad that you were a great actor. if not, you probably would quit this job just because of him.

a few months into filming

“it won’t matter if it’s two or twenty years, my feelings will never change.”

cut! the voice of the director fills the quietness of the room. you sigh and look away, the smile you had quickly erasing from your face as you stand up and walk over to grab a water bottle.

“their chemistry seems so good, do you think they used to date in the past or something?” you hear some of the crew members whispering next to you. you roll your eyes and place the bottle back down onto the ground. you walk back and sit back down to where you were earlier. you can’t lie to yourself, your on-screen chemistry seems so real, it even got yourself thinking if you got some secret crush on him that you hadn’t noticed.

seungkwan suddenly rehearsing his lines startled you, getting you out of your trance. you stared at him, almost like trying to figure something out. was the tension between you two just jealousy? you sighed and looked away, just in time as the director told you to get back in your spots to continue filming.

after the filming

you were already walking away from the set, thanking everyone for the day like always. usually seungkwan would be the first one out the door, but this time he waited just to leave at the same time as you. you thought he had already left, but he was just sitting in a corner, waiting until you’d leave.

it startled you, how he just appeared next to you. “gosh! what are you doing?” you asked, an irritated look on your face. “thought i’d leave with you. it’ll help with our on-screen chemistry if we try to spend time together, won’t it?” he replied, looking so calm it annoyed you even more.

you just rolled your eyes, letting him walk beside you. “should i bring you home? it’s pretty late already.” he talked. you really wanted to say no, but with all these people around, you didn’t want to make a scene. it’d be hard to say no to him too, he’d make you do it either way. so you accepted his offer, walking over to his car.

you were barely in the car when he started talking again. “i saw you looking at me earlier at set. what were you thinking about?” you looked up at him, not sure whether you should lie or tell the truth.

“wouldn’t you want to know?” you just said, choosing to not answer. he just scoffed, not asking any more questions. the ride to your house was quiet, the only sounds in the car being the sound of the rain hitting the car roof and windows.

soon, you’d already be at home, quickly getting out of the car to get rid of him. but to your surprise, he got out too.

“what are you doing?” you asked, brows furrowed.

“i just want to walk you to your front door.” he replied.

“it’s right there, i don’t need assistance from you… the ride here was enough.” you said, turning your back and walking towards your house. of course he wouldn’t listen. in just a few steps he was behind you and placing his hand on your lower back. the feeling of his hand there sent shivers throughout your body, but you didn’t want to confess that you liked it. you hated it. you hated him. right?

now, at your front door, he still didn’t leave. even when you opened the door and walked in, he still didn’t leave.

“are you going to stay there or leave?” you asked, your hand on the doorknob, about to close the door. you hated him. he was so predictable.

his feet stepped inside your house, the door closing behind him. you stared at him, brows furrowed once again and a frown on your face. you blinked and you were pinned against the wall, his face inches apart from yours. and he kissed you. his soft, warm lips on yours, kissing you slowly but with so much passion.

“we should practice.” he said as he pulled away. practice? was he crazy?

you pushed at his chest, annoyed. “if you want practice, then do it properly.” you said, voice quiet and unsure, but his lips back on yours made you sure.

it was more passionate, messier, more lustful this time. his hands slid down your body, down to rest on your ass. he pulled away, eyes dark. “where’s your bedroom?” he asked.

soon, you were pushed down on your soft bed, seungkwan crawling on top of you. he looked completely different in your softly lit room and his face hovering over yours, just inches away. it was like suddenly, your whole view of him changed. he wasn’t the annoying guy from your class anymore. he was older, more matured, and much better looking. it felt like an eternity while you stared at him and he slowly grew too impatient, pulling you into another kiss.

his hands slid down to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up, having to pull away from the kiss to pull it off of you. his breathing still heavy, he stared at your white lacy bra. deciding he was too impatient, he just pulled it down to reveal your boobs, nipples already hardened and perky.

he bent down to get one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and licking on it while his hand played with the other one not getting the same attention from his mouth. it felt so good, how his mouth softly sucked and bit on your breasts, making you let out breathy moans and whimpers.

you tugged on his hair, as if telling him to stop and touch you already. he pulled away from your breast with a pop sound as he let go. you grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it off easily and revealing his toned abs. they were glistening from sweat, and the light of the streetlights that came in through your curtains gave you a perfect view.

he started unbuckling his belt while you pulled down your own pants, revealing your panties that already had an embarrassingly big wet patch on them. as he finally got his belt open, he pulled down his pants and underwear at the same time, his hard cock hitting his lower stomach.

“you have any condoms?” he asked, his voice sounding a little unsure, even though his facial features looked confident and composed.

you nodded, reaching over to your bedside table and pulling out a condom. you handed it over to him and he quickly ripped it open, rolling it onto his member.

he hooked his fingers on the waistband of your panties and pulled them down with one quick tug, the sudden cold air hitting your core making you shiver.

he made eye contact with you as he lined up his tip to your hole, slowly pushing in. the stretch felt so good, a perfect amount of both pain and pleasure.

slowly, his thrusts started speeding up to a constant rhythm, his balls hitting your skin and filling the room with slapping noises alongside with your moans.

you had seen sex scenes in movies that seungkwan had acted in, but you didn’t think he would be this good. the real him was far from the characters he played, he was way better like this, and maybe you could even get used to this.

suddenly he groaned, pulling out of you quickly. you silently whimpered at the empty feeling, watching his annoyed expressions.

suddenly, he pulled off the condom, throwing it somewhere over his shoulder and pushing back into you. you moaned loudly at the feeling of him inside of you, but this time you could feel all of his veins dragging against your walls as he thrusted in and out.

you knew you shouldn’t be doing this, but it felt so good, and so did he. you noticed how even his groans started getting louder after getting the rubber off him and feeling you raw.

you felt the coil in your stomach tighten and you gripped the sheets under you, moaning out.

“i-i’m going to cum-“ you said, voice breaking from how good you were feeling.

he gripped your waist and looked you in the eyes, a small smirk appearing on his face. “do it, cum for me, baby”, he said.

your orgasm hit you like a wave hitting a cliff. the way he said the word baby made you roll your eyes back as you came, painting his cock white with your juices.

he kept thrusting until he finally reached his limit, pulling out just before his climax to shoot his cum onto your stomach.

he slowly pulled out and laid down next to you, both of your breathing heavily.

you stared up at the ceiling, mind still hazy from your orgasm. different thoughts roamed in your head, mostly thinking, what just happened?

having sex with someone you hated wasn’t something you could have ever imagined, but did you regret it? no, not really.

seungkwan turned his head to look at you, and soon, you felt his arms wrapping around you.

“i know you’re overthinking, just stop it, we can talk about it later…” he talked, his voice a little bit deeper and noticeably exhausted.

he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, making your body relax. you sighed, not replying to him. you were still confused, but he promised to talk about it, that was enough.

you closed your eyes and quickly drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

#seventeen #seungkwan #seventeen seungkwan #fanfic #kpop fanfic #oneshot #kpop oneshots #x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #kwanholic

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mothwingwritings · 2 years ago

Note

C and F for my boy Pickle

Eyyy sorry for the delay! (Yes I am still working on these!!!) Here is some Pickle goodness for you my dear.~<3

WARNINGS: Sex and violence and one love sick feral man.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Pickle would honestly treat you as nicely as he is able too. His living environment has its limitations, but he does everything he can to make it comfortable and inviting for you, adamant about making it a home that is fitting of his mate.

Once you are safely stashed away in his secret abode he sets to work constructing you a nest of things so that you may find pinnacle contentment in your new home. He’s gathered an amalgamation of the softest blankets, clothes, linen, etc. that has been given to him or that he has scavenged, so that you may rest in peace and luxury while in his presence. He also brings you the best cuts of meat after his hunts, though he caught on quickly that you were apt to turn your nose at his bloody, raw offering (he couldn’t quite understand why, he was sure you would love it if you just gave it a chance). Once he picks up on your distaste, he instead begins to hoard ingredients and snacks he steals picks up out in the world, supplying you all manner of foodstuff till he pins down the ones you like.

While Pickle prefers you in your natural state, he understands your body needs protection from the elements. He doesn’t quite get modern fashion, but you seem sad wearing the same thing over and over again. While he’s out he procures a hodge-podge of varying clothing, presenting it to you by dumping it at your feet, a huge dopey grin on his face. He loves seeing you in the clothing he gifts you, you look so beautiful in each and every piece that he can’t help but stare, holding back the urge to rip it right back off and have his way with you.

Pickle won’t mock you and wouldn’t dream of disrespecting you in anyway. Any harm he causes you is either completely unintentional or for your own good. He loses control of himself sometimes, forgetting his own strength. You are just so small and he loves you so much, it’s hard to hold himself back. He hates using his strength against you to prove a point, but if you remain insistent on trying to escape him he will do what he must to protect you. You are HIS mate and HE’S the only one who can take care of you. All that’s waiting for you in this strange new world is danger, so if you won’t stay by his side willingly, he will force you there.

All that said, while you may be relatively safe from Pickle’s more violent tendencies, anyone else most certainly is NOT. If another person approaches you, threatens you, or tries to take you away from him they will be obliterated, decimated, ripped to shreds, torn apart until nothing is left. He’ll bask in the gruesome slaughter, their end another validation that he is the best one for you, the one who loves and can protect you above all others. Doesn’t matter if that person is a stranger or your own mother-he is all you need, anyone else butting in is an unnecessary threat.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would find it incredibly charming if you tried to fight him. Pickle doesn’t see it as an act of aggression at all, but views it as you trying to mimic him as a sign of reverence. You think he is so impressive and strong that you strive to be like him, going so far as to challenge him to a fight. It’s adorable, and he can’t help but break out into a huge toothy grin when he sees you assume a fighting stance.

And it excites him- seeing you tense up, clenching your fists and bending your knees, preparing to strike at a moment’s notice. Seconds before the fray, you stare him down with such intensity, sizing him up and calculating what moves you should make against him, gears turning in your head as you focus wholly on him. The fixation on him sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He is the only one you are thinking of in that moment, and in turn you are all that is occupying his thoughts.

Your strikes never hurt him and he can tell how much that frustrates you. He’ll play along sometimes to make you happy, yowling like a mother lioness that is being batted by her cub. He’ll cringe at your punch, shy away from your kick. If he’s convincing enough, you sometimes award him with a small smile, a brief look of accomplishment. It warms his heart, knowing you are having as good of a time as he is.

He also relishes the closeness the two of you share when you initiate these little fights. Usually you try and hide away from him, distancing yourself as much as possible whenever he is in the vicinity. At first he thought it was another game you were trying to play with him, something coy, cute, and seductive to grab his attention. But when the chase became a regular thing he was disappointed, why did you put up such a fuss each time your mate tried to approach you? You didn’t even give him a prize when he finally caught you, just flailing and screaming and spitting. It hurt his feelings- this was supposed to be fun.

But the little brawls you had were fun, and they gave him a chance to have you near him without any to-do. He could feel your skin on his, smell your sweat as your body writhed and wriggled against his. Feeling your small hands grab at his hulking form, listening to your strained moans and heavy breathing as you threw your all into attacking him… Witnessing you in such a state, holding you close as your body rubbed his in just the right way, it doesn’t take long for him to completely lose control.

Before you can recognize what is going on, your body is sheathing his cock, previous grunts of exertion quickly turning into wails of pleasure.

He doesn’t understand why you cry so much afterwards, though. Were you not having as much fun as he was? You initiated the fight, why are you so upset at the outcome? It was a good tussle, and judging by the noises you were making, he was able to make you feel good. Even if you struggled a bit when he was trying to enter you, you always end up yielding to him. The fit is tight, and there have been several times he was afraid he would outright break you when he pushed deeper, pressing into your core. But the pleasure that courses through him as he bottoms out is indescribable. He loses himself in the feel of you surrounding him, completely consumed by the euphoria your body has supplied him.

You are his perfect mate, his brave little warrior, and his love for you is endless. So don’t cry, OK? Maybe next time he’ll let you really ‘win.’ :)

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palettepainter · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! First, I want to say that I love the sibling dynamic between Bobby and Doey, and love seeing your posts on my dash. your art in general is amazing as well <3

Now, my own question would be-- have Doey and Bobby ever had an 'overprotective sibling argument' before? Where both of them care to the point that they argue instead of one trying to placate the other? For example, Doey not resting after getting hurt or sick and Bobby putting her foot down-- with Doey refusing in general because he's in charge of the Safe Haven? Or Bobby wanting to help pitch in and go scouting, but Doey stops her and they argue over the idea. I hope what I'm asking makes sense? Or that I haven't missed something and it's already been answered? Either way thinking about a 900 lb ball of dough being lectured by a tiny stuffed bear-- and sometimes losing-- is also very funny to me.

OOOOOO Thank you for the lengthy ask!! I LOVE waking up to asks like this!!

I'm so happy you like the DB found siblings!! I am such a fan for found family dynamics and with my Doey brainrot atm I HAD to combine the two!! (also we all need to cope somehow with Chapter 4's cannon ending-)

As for your question yes, the two have DEFINITLY had those cliche protective sibling arguments! With Bobby acting more like a little kid than Doey, and with the stress of essentially running Safe Haven by himself after Poppy leaves, the two have clashed heads. They don't have them so much anymore, but it happened a lot more shortly after Poppy left.

I'm still figuring out the timeline but Bobby joined Safe Haven not too long after the HOJ. Toys weren't eating each other at this time, but tensions were still high and many were still in fight or flight. When Doey brought her back to Safe Haven Bobby clung to him, and Doey didn't mind so much as he had Poppy and the help of some other Bigger Bodies (like Hoppy and Dogday) to help. Bobby and Doey had started to form a big brother/little sister bond right before Poppy left, this is probably where they had their first sibling argument: Doey trying to push down his fear after Poppy's sudden leaving and his new position as the leader, only to snap at Bobby when she kept asking him if he was okay and that he should rest. Thankfully, the two made up very quickly and Doey especially felt VERY guilty

They have more spats the longer Doey is in position as "leader", but most of the time Doey is able to catch himself before he gets too angry

Doey, as well as the other critters, try to keep the smaller toys sheltered from the dangers in the factory and Bobby is no different. Bobby knows it's dangerous outside and their situation is severe, but she doesn't really have a grasp on just HOW dangerous and severe. I don't want to give away too many spoilers as this is a big project I've got in the works, so I don't want to hype it up too much cuz it'll likely be a while before I can work on it, but their biggest sibling argument happened a little while after Kickin Chicken's death

With Doey as the official leader of safe haven, aiding Hoppy in scouting outside of Safe Haven for supplies, leaving Dogday to manage the toys while they're gone, and with rations depleting, tensions were high. Something or someone was bound to snap, and sadly, Bobby's attempts to "help" were the cause

#thank you again for the lengthy ask!#This was a delight to read when I got up this morning!!#DB Found Siblings #Doey the doughman #Doey #Bobby #Hoppy hopscotch #Dogday #Kickin Chicken

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absandersons · 1 year ago

Text

I put myself through the shooting again to see what I missed and here's what I came out with (IT'S A LOT):

Jesus Christ the way Eddie looks at Buck immediately

That shot of them just staring at each other before Eddie falls

The way Buck just stands there, completely frozen, doesn't even try to protect himself

HE ABSOLUTELY DOES REACH FOR HIM. HE REACHES FOR BUCK BEFORE HE PASSES OUT

Buck crawling to him and saying "Stay down, I'm gonna come, I got you."

"Hey just...just stay with me, okay?"

Eddie's first and only question is "are you hurt?" to Buck...brothers I am in shambles

Buck like actively cupping Eddie's face and saying "I need you to hang on."

The way Buck almost like collapses when a firefighter bumps into him...

Also INSANE that his first thought on seeing Taylor is "no comment" YIKES!!!

God Oliver Stark...I am in awe of you always

You can tell Buck is trying SO HARD to keep it together for Chris. Like he doesn't want to make things harder on him but it's like everything hits him all at once and he just can't keep it in because telling Chris makes it real. And makes him think that he should have been the one that got shot

"He's a fighter" while wiping away his tears...oh my love

Him breaking down is a relief cry, he drops his phone and just collapses in on himself out of relief

"It's gonna be okay, Buck." I just...love Chris and Buck so much. I love them so so much.

All the tubes sticking out of Eddie I'm sick to my stomach

And Buck takes such effortlessly good care of Christopher, of course Eddie would make him his guardian

"Buck snores...loud." Chris my king

"I'm fine. I'm not the one who got shot." Well it's clear you wish you were babe and that freaks me out!!

It's so interesting the way the rest of the crew doesn't even seem to...clock that Buck isn't just being reckless. Like he's actively trying to die. Daring the sniper to take him out

The fact that Taylor just leaves, playing into every insecurity he has but he doesn't even TRY to fight her leaving when he sees Ana calling...I have nothing to say to this it writes itself

"He doing okay?" "Better than me." BYE!!!

When Buck says it would have been better if he had gotten shot you can tell Eddie is like...stunned at what he said, but he IS recovering from a, oh that's right, major gunshot wound, so it's not like he can say anything about it.

Okay sorry the comparison between Buck telling Eddie "I'm here. I got you." and Athena telling Bobby THE SAME THING after he got shot???????

"Because Evan." I think it's the only time I've heard Eddie use his given name. It means something when he does. In this case "you aren't disposable you bonehead. Not to Chris. Not to me."

Genuinely insane experience. 10/10 would recommend

#buddie #911 #liveblog

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smilesrobotlover · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter 3- Sky Islands

First|| <-prev next->

AO3

Summary: it’s been three years since Calamity Ganon attacked Hyrule, and everyone was recovering well from it. Until the strange substance gloom appeared, making people sick when they touched it. Wanting to find answers, Zelda and the champions went beneath the castle against her father’s wishes to try to solve the problem. Meanwhile, the King of Hyrule is desperately trying to figure out more about the gloom, though no one knows the true danger lurking beneath Hyrule…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing Link felt was the cold.

The damp, cool air caused him to shiver as consciousness slowly began to return to him. He curled and uncurled his fingers and toes, them feeling like ice as they touched warmer parts of his body. The cold traveled up his arms, making him shudder, and he finally opened his eyes. It took a moment for him to comprehend where he was as he laid there, trying to find the strength to not fall back asleep, but the unfamiliarity with his surroundings stopped him from finding more peaceful rest. He was clearly in a cave of sorts, with roots and vines dangling from the gray rocks and poking out of the ground, and he looked to be under a tree that rested protectively above him. Link sat up, curiously observing the mysterious cave he was in, and he rubbed his aching head. How did he get here?

A sudden stab of pain went through his head where his hand was, as if a twig or claw nicked him slightly, and he hissed in pain as he pulled away. He instinctively looked at his hand to see what hurt him, but his stomach sank slightly as he stared at the monstrous arm in front of him. What had nicked his temple were the fingernails, which were sharp and animalistic in nature. They were on a sickly, dark green arm wrapped in golden jewelry that went all the way up to his bicep, and on each finger bore a circular ring. Link stared for a long moment, confusion and panic settling in as he tried to remember what happened and what caused him to suddenly have such a horrifying arm. He glanced at his other arm, but it looked perfectly normal to him, with his simple soft skin and short fingernails that contrasted the rough and decorated alien arm.

“Link, you’re finally awake.”

Link flinched at the sudden deep voice, looking around him in a frenzy to see who was with him, but to his surprise, he was completely alone in the cave.

“Do not be alarmed, I mean you no harm,” the voice continued, though it didn’t ease Link’s unease. “Your wounds were severe, I was afraid that you wouldn’t make it, but I am relieved to see you escape death.”

Escape death… What happened?

“Your arm, however, was beyond saving,” the voice continued. “I had to replace it lest the injury endanger you further.”

Link instinctively looked down at the new arm again, taking in the details. He wondered if it was a prosthetic of some kind, but the way it moved—the way it felt proved otherwise. It was living, with blood flowing through its veins, yet it felt wrong. It wasn’t his, it was… something else. Something alien to him. He rubbed his head again, this time with his left arm, and he tried to remember all that happened. The voice didn’t speak up again, and Link finally stood up, though it was a lot more difficult than he realized. His legs felt weak and numb as they haven’t been used in a while, and his whole body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Link let out a grunt as he stretched his back, feeling slight relief for his tight body, and he finally looked around him, shuffling his feet to get used to them again. The cave was simple, plain and dark, with vines and roots that snaked through the room. But amongst the vines, Link spotted something, and his heart stopped.

The Master Sword.

It was tangled up in vines, but Link could see the decayed and shattered sword as he got closer to it. He stared in shock for a long moment, his breathing shallow as he reached for the hilt, almost hesitant to touch it as if he was unworthy. When he finally grabbed it, he immediately could feel the emptiness inside the sword; the once powerful and divine magic that rested within the Blade of Evil’s Bane was gone, and dread sank within Link’s stomach as he plucked it from the vines. As he observed the decayed blade, the memories from before finally flooded in. They were traveling beneath Hyrule Castle, they found forgotten history, they found gloom getting thicker as they walked, they found a corpse being held up by a green arm, it shot gloom at him, destroying his arm and…

Link glanced down at the new arm. Was it… the same green arm as before? It grabbed him as the corpse shot gloom above them, it grabbed him as he tried to stop Zelda from falling into the abyss with Terrako, it…

Saved him.

It must be the reason why he was here then, and it replaced his destroyed one. He felt slightly better about the new arm, but a new fear settled in.

Where was Zelda? She vanished into a gold light when Link tried to grab her, unless he hallucinated the whole thing due to the pain. Did she… teleport away? He didn’t know she could do that. And the champions… the arm grabbed him and saved him, but did it save the champions? Were they able to get away? Or were they still beneath the castle, fighting for their lives while he was tucked away safely in a cave?

Link huffed, pushing the dread out of his mind to make way determination as he sheathed the broken master sword. Though it wouldn’t do much good for him, it was better than nothing. But he needed to save the champions and Zelda.

He marched towards an opening covered in vines, cutting through them with the broken blade. He was expecting to see more of the same gray rocks from before, but to his surprise, he found himself in a building that had clearly been ruined due to time. It was a large room with stagnant gears to one side and a door straight ahead, and right in front of Link was a strange green circle with a handprint in the middle. He was tempted to leave it be, but curiosity got the best of him, and he walked right up to it. It was clearly a magic circle, with it resting within a statue encircling it. When Link lightly touched it with the right arm, a loud bell rang out, causing him to jump as the gears to the side began moving. The silent air was soon filled with the sounds of machinery as the gears turned, and the door right in front of him opened. Link let out a sigh of relief, grateful he went to the magic circle first, and he took off running, anxious to leave the building and running through the ruins. While running through the hall, small ponds that Link would have to dive into met him, with each dive being higher than the last. On the third dive, he climbed out of the water, laying on the rocky ground with a sigh. He hadn’t been running for a long time, and he was a remarkable swimmer, yet his whole body felt impossibly heavy. Maybe he hadn’t fully recovered from whatever that corpse did to him.

Link rolled over to his side when he felt his stamina go up, and he spotted a little chest glowing amongst the bland vines. Curious, Link scrambled to his feet, opening it with slight excitement. Inside was a tan colored skirt that had wraps underneath. Sandals rested underneath the garments along with a belt and Link frowned. He didn’t recognize this style of clothing. It was clearly old, yet well preserved, and he considered leaving it behind. But the feeling of rocks poking at his feet convinced him otherwise. He wasn’t wearing any clothes, let alone shoes; perhaps it’d be smart to put on something.

After putting on the archaic clothing, he ran to the next opening, feeling excitement as he felt a draft hit his face. Sunlight peered through the mouth of the cave, and Link slowed down when he finally made it out. The fresh air, the warm sun, the sound of trees rustling in the wind felt incredible to Link. It felt like he was inside the dingy cave for weeks, which considering his condition, he probably was. He sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes to see a stone flooring that led to an edge. Stepping out further into the sun, he walked to the edge, spotted a lake beneath him, and without thinking, he jumped.

As Link jumped off the platform, he was finally able to get a good look at the new world he was in. Several islands that floated were all around him, hovering over a giant island that dwarfed the rest. Orange and yellow leaves were floating away from the trees, hinting at the first signs of autumn, and large, strange white building rested on the large island, which stood out from the rest of nature. To top off the view, a white dragon flew through the sky, right above the white building.

As the large island got closer, Link’s heart began to beat harder, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he dove flawlessly into the water. He emerged with a gasp, the cold water shocking him slightly, yet he felt refreshed with his wet hair growing colder in the wind. The refreshed feeling quickly went away though when he felt heavy and weak again, and he swam to the yellow grass, hopping over big lily pads that were in his way. When he was finally out of the water, he shivered slightly and laid in the warm sun, panting for air as he stared at the beautiful blue sky. He laid for a long moment, the warm sun and his exhausted body threatening to force him to sleep, but the sound of flapping wings caused him to scramble to his feet instead, pulling out his master sword.

“You’re almost dead for an entire week and the first thing you do is dive off a cliff?!”

Link turned to the lake to see a familiar blue Rito standing on a log, his wings crossed and his piercing green eyes glaring at him. Though he never got along with him, Link couldn’t help the relieved smile when he saw the Rito champion. Revali was here which meant… the other champions had to be safe as well, right? Link sheathed the master sword and jogged up to him, stopping when Revali backed away.

“Woah, don’t you dare touch me when you’re soaking wet!” He squawked, his wing out to keep Link from getting closer. Link’s relief was replaced with irritation and to his surprise, offense, but he forced another smile, which made Revali’s gaze surprisingly soften.

“Well, I’m glad you’re at least doing alright,” Revali said, his wings crossed once again as he looked away, almost looking angry to express concern to Link. “We—the others have been worried sick about you. We didn’t know where you were or… if you were alive or…”

He trailed off, his eyes landing on the alien arm that replaced Link’s. Link glanced down once again observing the strange thing.

“Goddesses, what happened while you were up there?” Revali asked, mostly in a rhetorical tone. The arm was simply dropped at Link’s side, and he shrugged, not quite understanding what happened either. He could explain the voice that spoke to him and the arm being the same from beneath the castle, but instead he said nothing. Revali waited for Link to speak up, but when he didn’t, he simply turned away, knowing that Link’s voice never came easily.

“How are you feeling right now?” Revali finally asked, concern more apparent on his face.

Goddesses, how was Link feeling? He was confused, worried, relieved, hurt—he felt a lot of things. Link admittedly felt the need for comfort, but he couldn’t let Revali know that. Instead he stood up straight and forced a smile, nodding reassuringly at the Rito. Revali didn’t look too convinced, but he didn’t press any further.

“Ok, the others are doing ok too, if you’re worried about that.”

Link’s smile was more genuine, relieved that he wasn’t the only one saved.

“Except, Zelda is missing, we don’t know where she is,” Revali continued, and the relief quickly disappeared. “We’ve searched all over the island. We knew you were somewhere in the building above us, but we knew nothing about the princess. We still don’t, honestly. But that white building over there,” Revali pointed behind Link, “we hope that she’s in there. Urbosa feels some divine magic inside. Only issue is, we don’t know how to get in, it’s locked.”

Link frowned. It wasn’t ideal, but there was at least hope that Zelda was alright. It seemed he got hurt the worst from the corpse underneath the castle, which he was grateful for. He couldn’t bear for the others to get hurt the same way.

“Well… Um…” Revali stared at Link for a moment before looking around at the trees. “I’m going to go look for others, they’ll be happy to hear that you’re on your feet again. You should stay put while I’m gone. Just stay at this lake, and I’ll be back. You hear? Stay put!”

Link nodded, watching as Revali gave him a threatening look before flapping his wings and taking to the skies with power. The wind blew dust in Link’s eyes and covered his face with his arm, and when the dust settled, Revali was gone. Knowing that the champions were at least safe, he felt slightly better, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Though, he was still worried about the princess, and he wondered if she got hurt the same way he was and was inside the strange white building recovering. Either way, he needed to find her and the rest of the champions, and so he decided not to stay put so he could try to find them. Sitting around in the mysterious woods while waiting for Revali was not something he wanted to do anyways—he would feel much better if he saw the others with his own eyes. Especially Mipha.

Hylia, she must be so worried about him.

He needed to find her, but he wasn’t able to ask Revali about her. The champions had done well at interpreting Link’s silent language, but they couldn’t pick up on everything and Link couldn’t ever find the voice in time. It was frustrating, but it was something he had to deal with.

The woods were quiet as he walked through them, with beautiful sunbeams shining through the colorful leaves, leaving a warm light on the yellow grass. He was amazed that something like this was in the sky of all places, and he wondered how and why nobody knew about it. Were they still near Hyrule? Or were they in an entirely new realm? Link had seen the three dragons of Hyrule disappear in a circle of clouds before, and so he wondered if he was in the same area as them. Link’s eyes landed on the flying white dragon when he thought of that, and he stopped walking, mesmerized by the divine creature.

There had only been three known dragons in Hyrule: Farosh, Dinraal, and Naydra. Each one had their one distinct color that made them stand out amongst the skies and terrain they flew across. But this one was clearly not one of them. He could barely see the details of the white dragon, but a colorful light trailed behind the creature, which didn’t match the clumps of elements that surrounded the normal dragons. Who was this dragon, and why hasn’t he seen it before?

Link’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted with a strange mechanical noise. He spun around and saw a one-eyed robot with green light acting like a skeleton as it held pieces of green machinery together. It held a large wooden stick and started to float straight for Link, the red eye glaring into him. The hero simply stood there as the robot got closer, not knowing if it was dangerous or not, but a quick swipe for Link’s side answered his question, and he dodged out of the way before it was able to land a hit on him.

It didn’t seem difficult to fight; it felt like it was no more difficult than a red bokoblin, but he couldn’t fight it unarmed no matter how easy. Link searched the ground for a weapon, not wanting to risk damaging the master sword further, and he was able to find a tree branch by his feet. Though it took a few hits, the branch miraculously defeated the construct, and the robot exploded into a green light. Link let out a sigh and collected the wooden stick, knowing it would fare better than the master sword and the branch.

Leaving the broken machine behind, Link found himself in a clearing with a green statue in the middle. The same green circle of magic as before was in front of the statue, and Link instinctively reached out to touch it, curious as to what it would do this time. The statue suddenly began moving, green light controlling every loose piece and shaping it until a big, lizard-like robot stood before him. Link pulled out his wooden stick, expecting yet another battle, but it simply tilted its head at Link.

“Link, I have waited for you,” it said in a soft, mechanical voice. Link’s eyes went big and he put his wooden stick away, squinting his eyes at the strange thing. The robot straightened its posture and nodded at him. “Princess Zelda left something for you in my care.”

Link’s breath hitched at the mention of the princess. So she was safe, thank Hylia. Link’s pose relaxed and he let out a long sigh, the stress leaving him. The champions were safe and so was Zelda. That’s all that mattered to him. The robot made a sound, and a drawer opened from its chest. It reached inside to grab something, and out came Zelda’s Sheikah slate, with the robot offering the slate to Link.

“This is the sheikah slate. I am told that it is an invaluable tool and will provide you with directions,” it simply explained, the slate looking small in the robot’s large hands. Link stared at it confused as he picked it up. He was familiar with a sheikah slate; it was a helpful tool when fighting different monsters, and every champion had one thanks to Purah and Robbie. But he wondered why Zelda was giving this to him, and why she wasn’t the one to do it. Zelda wasn’t exactly one to willingly part with the Sheikah slate since it was her main weapon before, but Link glanced at himself and figured that he shouldn’t complain. His own Sheikah slate was probably destroyed in the castle.

“I received it from princess Zelda. I have now passed it onto you,” the robot continued, its hands pulling back once the slate was claimed. “My records indicate that princess Zelda is waiting at the location marked on its map. My message has been delivered.”

Link glanced at the map, seeing a pin at the large structure on the floating island. So Zelda was in that building, just as the champions suspected. What a relief. He attached the sheikah slate to his hip and gave the robot a nod.

“I am a steward construct, if you need any assistance, come to me or the many stewards on the island,” the steward construct explained before turning away from Link. The hero opened his mouth to ask the many questions he had. What is this place? Where am I? What happened? But no sound came out. Even to a robot, Link still couldn’t find his voice. When the construct was far away from him, he pursed his lips and let out a sigh, heading to the direction where Zelda was said to be.

The green magic circles that matched his hand fascinated Link. They always seemed to make something happen just by his touch. Thanks to one of them, he was able to build a bridge and get closer to the white building. He was curious about the power now at his fingertips, and he wondered who it used to belong to. The arm from beneath the castle clearly matched his new one—the same green glowing color, the same golden ornaments, even the beast-like fingers matched. But who did this powerful arm belong to? Link found himself staring at the new hand once again, taking in every detail as there was always something new he didn’t notice before. He was so distracted with his hand that he accidentally ran into another steward construct. The robot turned around and Link jumped back, giving an apologetic bow.

“Hello,” it greeted him, not seeming to care that it was bumped into. “You should be careful walking through these woods. Soldier constructs may be a threat to you.”

Link tilted his head. The robot he fought before, was that a soldier construct? How many different types of constructs were there?

“Soldier constructs protect this land and eliminate trespassers. They may fight you and should be seen as a serious threat,” it explained, and Link nodded. He figured that they were dangerous since the last one he met tried to kill him. He gave the steward construct a grateful bow and continued walking towards the building. The area grew more foggy, so much so that he was barely able to see the aforementioned constructs pacing the area, waiting for something like him to appear. Despite the steward construct’s warning about the soldier constructs, Link charged in, defeating the constructs in minutes. It was hard to see them as a serious threat when they were more harmless than a normal bokoblin.

As Link traveled closer to the white building, he saw yet another steward construct sitting by a fire. It was surprising at how many of those guys were here. It glanced up at him and watched him silently as he got closer, and Link stopped abruptly when he smelled something delicious.

“Are you hungry?” It asked, its mechanical voice the same as the other ones. “It is my duty to make all sorts of meals for those who consume food. I do not, but I do enjoy experimenting with different combinations. I suggest you try one of my meals.”

Link walked over shyly, eyeing a baked apple with his mouth watering. Goddesses, when was the last time he ate?

He picked it up slowly, the steward continuing to stare at him. When it said nothing, he finally allowed himself to bite into it. The sweet and tart taste of an apple met his tongue, but there was a hint of cinnamon that practically kissed his taste buds as he ate the apple. The fruit melted in his mouth and he felt like he was in heaven—though it was a simple apple, it was the best apple he’s ever had.

“I hope it’s to your liking,” the steward construct said, and Link nodded enthusiastically, finishing the first meal he’s had in a week. The construct nodded and gestured to the rest of the food laying there. “You may take as much as you’d like. I do not need it.”

Link gratefully took the food and gave the construct a grateful bow. He stuck another apple in his mouth and continued his trek to the building, feeling slightly more rejuvenated thanks to the food. When he got close to the building, he was met with a broken bridge, but it was no issue for Link as he shoved a baked acorn in his mouth and hopped on the side, climbing it with ease. When he reached the top however, he was met with another soldier construct, this one bearing a shield. He sighed, fiddled with the nut in his mouth and pulled out the wooden stick he got from the soldiers. The construct floated towards him, beginning its attack, but Link dodged with ease, rolling behind it and smacking its back. The construct flinched and was thrown off balance, allowing Link to deliver the final blow, destroying the construct. He adjusted the nut still in his mouth and began to nibble on it, collecting the perfectly good shield. Finally, he made it to the building’s doors, quickly eating the nut so he wouldn’t greet Zelda looking like a slob, and he wiped his hands on his trousers. There was a familiar green magic circle with the hand symbol in the middle, and he touched it, expecting the door to open like before, but to his surprise, a red X appeared on the circle, denying him access. He stepped back slightly, looking up at the large doors in confusion.

“That door will only open to those with sufficient power.”

Link jumped and spun around, his weapon drawn and shield up, but his defensive pose dropped slightly as he stared at the person in front of him. He was obviously a ghost, but he was a ghost of a tall creature with large ears on each side of his head, with a short snout and horns on the top of his head. His turquoise eyes watched Link, framed by long, white lashes. Decorated on his body was jewelry and a shawl that covered his upper body, with a tunic that draped over his short legs—it was certainly a style Link had never seen before. The ghost simply smiled and raised a hand defensively.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to startle you,” he said, and Link noticed the uncanny similarity between this ghost’s arm and his new one. “You may have this figured out, but it was I who spoke to you earlier.”

Link frowned, remembering the strange voice he heard when he first woke up. He stood up fully, putting his wooden stick away while staring at the ghost intently. The ghost lifted his arm, as if proving Link right that their arms were the same.

“That arm belonged to me. Seeing how I no longer have a physical form, I didn’t need it anymore. Not as much as you did at least.” The ghost’s arm rested at his sides again and he stared directly into Link’s eyes. “I am Rauru. I see you’re doing well despite nearly losing your life earlier, that is good news.”

Link looked down, instinctively looking at his new arm and not feeling satisfied with an answer to his previous question on whom the arm belonged to. Rauru floated closer to him, staring at the large, white doors.

“That arm should allow you to open this door, but it seems it has lost the power to do so,” he muttered solemnly. He glanced down at Link and rested his hand on his chin. “You should be able to restore it, fortunately. You’ll just need to enter a place filled with sacred light.”

Link frowned, not knowing where such a place could be, but Rauru chuckled.

“Do not worry, from what I can see, the many shrines on this island seem to still be standing.” Rauru turned and gestured to buildings that had a glowing green spiral coming out of the tips. Link stared and spotted more of them scattered on different corners of the island, and he nodded. Rauru nodded back. “Yes, the shrines are the key, I’m sure of it.”

Link stared at him as his expression grew melancholic, and suddenly, Rauru disappeared, leaving Link alone. He sighed, soaking in the information he got from the ghost. The only way to get to Zelda was through that door, and to do that he had to go to shrines scattered across the island. He wondered why she was locked in there, and if the champions even knew that’s where she was. It was all too strange to him—an unfamiliar world, an unfamiliar enemy, an unfamiliar creature guiding it, an unfamiliar arm—he was almost wishing that things could go back to normal. But he was here now, with a new danger threatening his home and friends, so he had to suck it up and fight back, just like he’s done before.

Link looked over to the closest shrine and began his journey to it, hoping to get this done as soon as possible. He wasn’t the biggest fan of taking time on tasks, let alone tripping over nature to get to his destination. It was a huge pain, but at least he’d be able to get to Zelda with the champions, wherever they were.

He just hoped they were safe.

When Link got closer to the shrine, he heard the sounds of fighting, and he quickly spotted the Gerudo champion fighting the soldier constructs. Even though Revali showed Link that the champions were safe, he was still relieved to see Urbosa fighting with ease. She took down the constructs as if they were annoying pests, shocking them with her lightning and taking them down with her scimitar. Link figured he could sit back and wait for her to finish before reuniting with her, but as he watched, he noticed a straggling construct at a higher elevation, a bow in its hands. Urbosa was too distracted with the other constructs, and when the construct drew an arrow, Link knew he couldn’t sit back anymore. He ran to the sniper, trying to stay out of sight as it aimed for the Gerudo champion, and he swung his wooden stick at the construct, killing it instantly. He picked up the discarded arrows and bows, grateful to get more weapons, and he looked up to check on Urbosa. All the constructs were dead, and the chief was smiling at him.

“Link! Get down here!” She commanded, sheathing her scimitar and shield and walking towards him. Link smiled and jumped down to greet her. The Gerudo chief pulled him into a tight hug when they met, and Link hesitantly reciprocated.

“We were so worried about you,” she said, rubbing his back gently as she swayed back and forth. She finally pulled away and held him at arm level. “You were put in this strange building and we’ve been trying to keep these constructs away from you.” Urbosa smiled gently and cupped his cheek. “I see you’ve recovered though. I’m so glad.”

Link smiled and nodded while Urbosa glanced at his arm.

“That arm… Goddesses that felt like eons ago,” she murmured, staring at the strange appendage. “It took us away when the castle fell and put you in that building. We heard a voice telling us that you would be healed, but then we were locked out, unable to see you as it happened.”

Link frowned. He had no idea that they weren’t by his side as he healed. They weren’t there when he woke up, but he chalked it up to bad timing. They must’ve been worried sick about him, not being able to see him. Mipha would have normally been worried if she could be by his side, but if she couldn’t…

“Mipha?” Link suddenly blurted out, his voice sounding raspy and clearly unused, and Urbosa gave him a teasing smile.

“She’s fine. That poor girl, she never left the island you were left on.”

Link looked down, longing to see her again. He could really use her support with everything going on.

“I’m not sure if you know this, but from what I’ve seen, Zelda isn’t here,” Urbosa said solemnly. “I don’t know where she is, but I pray she was taken somewhere safe as well.”

Link lifted his head and glanced over at the white building. Urbosa glanced over as well and took a few steps towards it.

“We’ve had our theories, but is she in there?” She asked, hope apparent in her voice.

Link nodded and opened his mouth to explain the situation, “I need to go to the shrine to open the door,” was all he could say. Urbosa gave him a knowing nod and grabbed his arm, escorting him to the shrine.

“Daruk has tried to break through that door,” she started to explain, “no matter what, we couldn’t get inside. If I had known she was in there, I would’ve tried harder.”

Link gave her a sympathetic look.

“Unfortunately, we couldn’t get into the shrines either,” she continued, stopping when they reached the shrine’s entrance which was blocked off by a green magic circle, “so I’m not sure how you’ll be able to get inside. But we’ll figure something out.”

Link nodded, walking up to the circle and touching it. The light dispersed and an entryway appeared, a green light beckoning him further.

“Wow, you figured that out fast!” Urbosa exclaimed, walking closer to the shrine. “I suppose that arm has many uses.”

Link took a step forward and stopped in front of the entryway. He turned to look at Urbosa, waiting for her to join him, but she shook her head.

“Sorry Link, I have a feeling I’ll be a burden to you. I’ll be waiting for you out here.”

Link nodded and stepped inside the shrine, leaving Urbosa behind. As soon as he left the islands and entered the large room of the shrine, vertigo and nausea assaulted him all at once. He gasped in pain as it felt like his insides were on fire, and he fell to his knees, his left hand grasping his chest and his breathing heavy as the pain moved through his body.

“Link.”

Link looked up to see Rauru watching him, a worried look on his face. The ghost floated over to him, studying him as he sat there shaking.

“The gloom that still remains in your body is reacting to the light in the shrine. It wants you to leave, to shelter yourself from the light. But I’m afraid you must not listen to it.”

Link let out a whimper, sitting up straight and taking in deep breaths.

“Do not worry, Link. The light will not only strengthen my arm, but it will remove some of the gloom still stuck to you. You just need to endure.”

Link took in a deep breath through his nose, and he nodded, standing up shakily to face the ghost. He needed to continue onward, for Zelda.

“Give me your hand,” Rauru commanded, and Link offered him his right hand, forgetting that it technically wasn’t his. Rauru extended his own, and a green light appeared above Link’s shaking palm. His right arm began to glow with the light, and Link felt something settle inside his palm.

“That is the ultrahand ability,” Rauru explained. “With it, you can build anything, anything you can imagine. Come, let me help you learn how to use it.”

Link took a deep breath and stepped forward despite everything within him screaming at him not to. Rauru guided him to a wooden plank laying on the ground and gestured to it with his hand.

“I want you to pick up this plank with ultrahand. Extend your hand towards it and imagine yourself grabbing it.”

Link frowned and extended his hand, continuing to shake terribly. Though he imagined himself grabbing the plank, nothing happened. He let out an exhausted huff as his hand dropped, and he leaned on his knees.

“I’m terribly sorry Link, I know these aren’t the best learning circumstances. But I’m afraid all I can do is teach.”

Link gave him a look and rubbed his aching head, standing up straight to try again. He needed to push through, he needed the power and he needed the gloom gone. Letting out a breath he tried again, almost feeling his right arm tingle slightly as he tried to pick up the plank, but once again, nothing happened. Rauru hummed and walked over to him.

“Whenever I used this ability, it always felt like my arm was extending towards the object. Perhaps if you… extend your arm, it’ll work.”

Link gave him another look. He was already extending his arm, yet nothing happened. Was Rauru saying for him to stretch it out? Or for him just hold it up like he’s been doing? Or to simply imagine it extending? Link let out a frustrated huff and held his arm up again. He shouldn’t get mad at Rauru; he was trying to help him out, and Link was grateful that he didn’t have to try to figure this out on his own with the way he was feeling. But he was really hoping to figure it out soon.

“Try to extend your arm,” Rauru muttered, looking away when Link shot him a glare. Link decided to listen however, and stretched his arm out. He expected nothing to happen again, but to his surprise, he felt the arm extend and move towards the wooden plank. A green light came from his arm as it encircled the plank, and Link felt to grab it. To his relief (and surprise), the magic grabbed the plank and lifted it off the ground. So he literally had to extend it for it to work.

“Nice work!” Rauru cheered. “I knew you could do it. I apologize if my advice isn’t helpful—I grew up with these abilities, so it’s hard to explain them to someone who hasn’t used them before.” Rauru smiled at him. “But you picked it up quickly.”

Link smiled and set the plank down, still feeling weak and shaky, but feeling more confident in himself.

“Now it’s time for you to stick things together!”

Link’s smile dropped. There was more he had to figure out? He wiped his forehead and glared at the plank.

“I did say you could build things! You can’t do that without sticking things together, can you?” Rauru floated over to another plank and pointed at it. “If you can pick things up, you can stick them together. It’s the same idea. Extend your arm, and use the magic that comes out of your hand to stick them together.”

Link sighed and raised his hand again, lifting up the plank with much ease the second time around. He moved the plank to the one by Rauru, touching the two ends together. He didn’t know how to stick them together, but he focused his energy on where the two planks touched. To his surprise, the magic brightened in that spot, and a strange green substance appeared, sticking the two planks together. He gasped and accidentally dropped the two stuck planks as Rauru cheered.

“Good work! You got past the hard part!”

Link walked over and stared at the green substance. Rauru gave him a knowing look and poked at it with his ghostly fingers.

“This is Zonai magic that’s been condensed into physical form. Far more durable than anything else in all of Hyrule.”

Link looked over at Rauru in shock. Zonai? Weren’t those the ancient people that Zelda rambled about? Looking at Rauru now, he did look like the statues that were beneath Hyrule castle. So Rauru was a… Zonai?

“Unfortunately, it can’t be produced in mass, so it’s used sparingly. Like to stick two objects together,” Rauru continued, not picking up on Link’s revelation. “Now, I bet you’re wondering, ‘how am I going to unstick them’? Well, this is the easiest thing to figure out! Just pick them up and shake them!”

Link snapped out of his stupor and went to unstick the planks. Just as Rauru said, it was a very simple thing to do. Link picked it up and shook it around, causing the Zonai magic to dissolve and dropping the plank he didn’t grab. Rauru smiled at him and nodded, and the two continued further into the shrine.

The shrine on the outside was relatively small, around the same size as a normal shed. For a shrine, it was quite pathetic, but on the inside the shrine had vast rooms that were incomprehensible to Link. How were these rooms able to fit inside such a tiny shrine? The Sheikah shrines at least went deep underground, which explained why they were so big. But the Zonai shrines? It was too much for Link’s tired mind. Zonai magic was strange.

Truly magic in general was strange to him. He couldn’t comprehend thinking of something and having it happen, similar to how Mipha could heal. He was always a more physical fighter, using weapons to directly slay monsters. Using magic for the first time was odd to say the least.

It didn’t take long for Link to make it to the end thankfully. He had to make an object to zipline to the end, and fortunately the more he used ultrahand, the easier it became for him. When he landed on the other side, he walked up to a small structure that had a window, revealing two white statues. In the front, there was yet another green circle. Link figured he should get used to seeing those since they seemed to appear everywhere now.

“Good work Link, now get a light blessing. It will help with the gloom,” Rauru said, before disappearing again. Link touched the green circle in front of the structure, causing it to rise and show the two statues in full. The one on the right was obviously Rauru, but a smaller, more Hylian looking statue to the left made Link puzzled. There was a lot more to Rauru that he didn’t know.

“Visitor to this Shrine of Light….” a voice suddenly spoke up, breaking Link from his thoughts. The voice was a deep, soothing feminine voice, one Link had never heard before. “That which imprisons and purifies the ancient evil… You have done well to reach this place…”

Link stared at the statues, specifically the woman to the left. Was she the one speaking to him? Were these statues similar to the goddess statues all over Hyrule?

“We offer this light that will cleanse you of evil.”

A golden orb appeared, resting in front of Link. Though the pain had dulled, it began to flare up again as Link reached to grab it. He gasped as he felt a sharp pain go through him, but it was gone as soon as he touched the orb. Link felt movement within him, and he watched as misty gloom began to leave his body. Though the dull pain wasn’t fully gone, Link suddenly felt lighter, more energized.

“May the Light of Blessing grant you the strength you seek.”

The structure fell, blocking off the statues again, and Link felt himself move out of the Shrine of Light. When he stepped back outside, he felt the pain subside, yet it lingered slightly. Urbosa was at his side as soon as he came out, looking at him with a worried look on her face.

“Are you alright?” She asked, her hand resting on his shoulder. Link swallowed and nodded, trying to give her a pleasant expression, but she didn’t seem convinced. “You look pale,” she stated.

Link let out a sigh. Though the shrine was painful to get through, he really was feeling better, but he supposed he couldn’t escape Urbosa’s concern. He gave a thumbs up and had a more genuine expression on his face, and Urbosa’s worry fell slightly.

“Alright. So what happened? Are you able to open the door now?”

Link pursed his lips and looked down. There were more shrines from what he’s seen on this island, and he had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to open the door until he visited all of them. He wondered if there were more abilities to learn too.

“I’ll take that as a no then,” Urbosa said, studying his face. “Daruk is somewhere on this island, maybe you can try to find him so we can work together in getting this door down?”

Link knew that he would be able to open the doors himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to correct her, and he nodded.

“I’ll go ahead and see what I can do to the door, I trust you’ll be fine on your own?”

Link gave her a reassuring nod and watched as she walked away, staring for a moment as his strength began to return to him. He turned around to observe the area, not knowing where he was going to head next, but knowing his goal to reunite the champions and princess together. They just needed to wait a little longer until he got strong enough.

#yayyyy update!!!#after so many month lol #I had fun playing with the magic #king of the Gerudo #tears of the kingdom #age of calamity #totk spoilers #smiles writes #a little clunky but I’m tired of working on this #we postin it #tears of the kingdom spoilers

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