#and I have spent so much time/effort making it harder for me to be on my phone [see: not logging back into this website for 2 months lol]

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

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

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

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

Chapter 7 - Madrid or Manhattan | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.2k

The following day, you couldn’t take the distance or the unknown any longer. That night had been a blur of bad decisions and misplaced anger, and now, with a mildly more clear head, you knew what you had to do. You needed to see Jude, to confront him, to figure out where you two stood. The thought of him with someone else, or worse, of him moving on from you, was unbearable. You had to know if there was anything left to salvage. You had acted out and you’d need to fix this or put it to bed. Once again, in a last ditch effort, without hesitation, you booked a flight back to Madrid, your heart racing as you imagined what might happen when you saw Jude again. If he had done it again—if he had been with someone else since your last conversation—you knew you would have to walk away for good. But deep down, you hoped that wasn’t the case. You hoped that Jude had been as miserable as you had, that he had spent every moment thinking of you. You didn’t tell him you were coming, you wanted him to not know in case he was with someone else. That’d be it for you. You were racking up flight miles. The environment was screaming at you but you took another flight anyway. When you arrived at Jude’s house, your nerves were frayed, your emotions teetering on the edge. The lack of sleep catching up to you. You didn’t bother with the formalities this time, just knocked on the door and waited, your heart pounding in your chest. When Jude opened the door, his surprise was evident, but there was something else in his eyes too—relief.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice a mix of surprise and something that sounded like hope. “You’re here.” Jude felt his heart beat slow down to a point where he wasn’t sure if you were really there or if he was imagining things.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice wavering slightly. “I’m here.” You stood there for a moment, neither of you knowing what to say, until Jude stepped aside to let you in. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you.

“Looked like you’d been having fun lately. Saw the posts,” Jude admitted as you sat down on the same sage green couch that used to be a place of comfort until your relationship or whatever with him was shattered in a moment by him, the tension palpable. He didn’t mean to sound so passive and short but he was hurt. “I know what you were doing. And I hated every second of it.” You winced hearing him call you out layered with a bit of anger of your own too.

“Having fun?” Your eyes narrowed on him, annoyed he said that. “Whatever. That was the point,” you replied, not unkindly, but with a bitterness that lingered in your voice. “I was angry, Jude. I didn’t know how else to make you understand how much you hurt me.” And when you told Jude that you had slept with someone to spite him for doing the same, it hit him harder than he expected.

“I know I messed up,” Jude said, his voice thick with regret, tears building on his waterline. “I haven’t done anything but think about you since you left. I was so stupid, so insecure, and I let it get the best of me. But I haven’t been with anyone else, Y/N. I swear.” Jude took a deep breath. You studied his face, searching for any sign that he was lying, but all you saw was the same regret and pain you had been carrying. The anger you had been holding onto started to crumble, replaced by a deep, aching sadness.

“I have though…” You cried. A sight Jude hadn’t expected. He knew you were upset but he put it down to anger but sadness, a broken heart, he could barely look at you. He felt more sick than before knowing that he made you feel this way. He knew. You tried to take a deep breath but you were shaking. He knew you well enough to know how you’d respond to him hooking up with someone else. The divide between you was so vast you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to build a bridge. The jealousy and hurt twisted in his gut as he realized that the thought of you with anyone else was unbearable. To know you were in someone else’s bed made him sick. It had been building since he slept with another girl but as he heard it roll off your tongue, that was the moment Jude understood that what he felt for you went far beyond just liking you—he was in love with you. The idea of losing you, the girl he had uncontrollably and unintentionally fell in love with made him feel physically ill, bringing all his buried emotions to the surface. You sat on the edge of the couch as emotions flooded you once over, your face buried in your hands as you cried softly. The weight of everything that had happened between you two felt unbearable, like it was crushing you from the inside out. Jude stood up in front of you, his face loosing color and filled with a mixture of hurt and helplessness. He hadn’t said much since you admitted it—admitted that you’d slept with someone after you found out about him and the other girl. You hated it. Hated that you had hurt him, hated that you had hurt yourself in the process. But more than anything, you hated how much you still cared about him, how much you wanted him even now. “I don’t understand,” you choked out through your tears, your voice breaking. “I don’t understand why I like you so much, even after everything. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do.”

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice soft but strained. “It’s okay. I know you’re hurting.” Jude knelt down in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing away your tears.

“I don’t want to be hurting!” you snapped, the frustration boiling over. “I hate this. I hate that I like you so much, Jude. I hate that even when I try to move on, you’re all I think about. You’re the only thing I’ve thought about since I left here. Just you all fucking day. I’ve done nothing else.” You whined. Jude winced, clearly pained by your words, but he didn’t pull away. He wasn’t sure how he felt that you were so distraught over the idea of liking and thinking of him the way you were.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know it hurts. But you’re not alone. I feel the same.” He just stayed there, holding your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. You shook your head, the tears coming harder now.

“But you don’t. You don’t know how much it hurts. You slept with someone else, I slept with someone else… How are we supposed to come back from that?” You cried. Jude took a deep breath, his hands dropping to your shoulders, steadying you.

“Because none of that matters to me anymore. What matters is that you’re here, with me. And I don’t want you to leave.” Jude hummed, holding onto you firmly. He leaned forward resting his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath.

“What are you saying?” You blinked at him, your heart aching at his words. Jude knew he should tell you why. Tell you how he really felt but those words couldn’t come out.

“I’m saying… I need you,” Jude whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you. You’re the only person who makes me feel like… like everything’s going to be okay. Even when it’s not.” He took another deep breath. Your chest tightened at his confession, and despite all the hurt, all the mistakes, a part of you wanted to believe him. A part of you needed to believe him. “Stay,” he said softly, his eyes pleading. “Stay in Madrid with me. With me tonight, whenever you want. Please. We’re both hurting, I know that. But you’re the only one who makes me feel better. Holding you is the only thing that’s going to make it better.” Jude thought he might start crying so he let his eyelids flutter close.

“What if it happens again, Jude? What if we hurt each other all over again?” You looked away, your heart racing, the fear creeping in.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I swear. I just… I just want you. I need you.” He shook his head, his grip on you tightening. You felt yourself breaking down, the tears flowing again as you leaned into him. Jude wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, holding you as if he was afraid to let go.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered. You clung to him, your sobs muffled against his shirt.

“You can,” Jude murmured into your hair. “I know you can. I know we can.” You stayed like that, wrapped in each other, both of you hurting but unwilling to let go. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t even close, but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was that you were together. You didn’t know what the future held, or if you could ever truly move past the pain, but you knew one thing for sure: you weren’t ready to walk away. Not yet.

“I was so scared, Jude,” you whispered, your voice breaking as the tears spilled over again. “I didn’t want to fall for you because I knew this would happen. I knew I’d get hurt. I knew this would happen.” You pouted with a quivering bottom lip.

“I’m so sorry, angel,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. Jude reached for you, pulling you into his arms, the tears soaking into his shirt. He held you close, his heart breaking as he felt just how deeply he had wounded you. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. But I want to make this right. I want you here, with me. I don’t want to lose you.” He whispered. You clung to him, the floodgates unable to close as you let out all the pain and fear you had been carrying. In that moment, in Jude’s arms, you felt a flicker of hope maybe you’d be able to rebuild what had been broken.

“I want to stay,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both fear and hope. “But I’m scared, Jude. I’m too scared of getting hurt again. You really hurt me.” You cried.

“I know,” he said softly. Jude held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out together, I promise.” And for the first time since you fled Madrid, you let yourself believe that you could. You went to sleep in Jude’s room that night in an intense silence. The air was thick with tension, as if every unspoken word, every bottled emotion had made the room smaller, tighter, almost suffocating. You had come all this way to see if there was anything left to salvage between you and Jude, but now, lying next to him in bed, you weren’t sure. The silence between you was intense, almost unbearable, but the thought of letting go was more painful. His arms were wrapped around you, and you couldn’t tell where his body ended and yours began. You weren’t sure if it was humanly possible to be as close as you two were in his bed. Despite the space you tried to keep between your minds and hearts, your bodies refused to acknowledge it. It wasn’t the same as before though. There were no whispered kisses or soft laughter. This wasn’t passion, it was desperation—an instinctual need to be close, to hold on to the only thing that felt familiar in a world that was quickly unraveling. You both stayed still for a long time, as if moving or speaking would shatter whatever fragile thing was keeping you together. The warmth of his chest against your back was the only thing grounding you, and yet it felt distant, too. Occasionally, you could feel him shift, his breath shaky, a small sniffle escaping him. In the quiet, you realized he was crying too, though he tried to hide it, just like you were. Tears silently streamed down your face, soaking into the pillow beneath you and you were pretty sure some of them would drip onto his arm. You didn’t even bother wiping them away. You weren’t sure if he could feel them, or if he already knew, but part of you hoped he did. Maybe it would save you the trouble of trying to explain the heartbreak clawing at your chest. Every breath felt heavy, every second drawn out, weighted by the regret hanging between you. The things you hadn’t said. The feelings you hadn’t admitted. The mistakes you both made that had led you here—together but impossibly apart. The words ‘I love you’ hovered unspoken in the room, almost too big to say aloud, but they screamed in your mind. If you said them now, would it fix things? Or would it make them worse? You weren’t sure. There were moments where you thought you felt Jude shift closer, as if he was trying to gather the courage to say something, but he never did. The silence remained, only occasionally broken by your mutual sniffles or the rustle of sheets. You wanted to scream, to shake him, to demand he say something, anything, but instead, you just lay there, clinging to him as if letting go would break you entirely. Hours passed, but sleep didn’t come. How could it, with so much between you that still needed to be said? The weight of it all pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe, hard to think clearly. But even then, even through the pain and confusion, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but here, in this bed, with him. You didn’t know what the morning would bring—if you would still be holding each other or if the final goodbye was waiting on the other side of this silence—but for now, this was all you had. And even though it hurt, even though it felt like it might break you both, neither of you could let go.

That morning it was tense but Jude thought that if you flew here you must have craved the same thing he did. You wanted to close this distance. The morning air in Madrid was still cool, the early sun spilling into the room like a quiet reminder of everything left unsaid. You stood in the en-suite, your hands gripping the edge of the sink as you brushed your teeth, staring blankly at your reflection. It wasn’t just the exhaustion from travel, or even the tension that clung to the air like a suffocating fog—it was everything. Every decision, every misstep, and most of all, the pain that weighed down your chest like a heavy stone. When you finished, you walked back into the bedroom, the tension palpable in the silence between you and Jude. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, fiddling with his phone, his jaw set in a way that told you he was thinking too hard about what to say.

“Do you want breakfast?” Without looking up, he finally broke the silence, his voice quiet and almost too casual. It was an olive branch, awkward and uncertain, but it was something. You nodded, still feeling the weight of everything between you both as you glanced toward the balcony. The doors were open now, letting the morning breeze drift through. Jude had laid out breakfast on the small table outside—nothing too grand, just simple plates and chairs, but it was thoughtful. In that moment, despite everything, it was exactly what you needed.You stepped outside, the brightness of the Madrid sun almost blinding, and you gave Jude a sad smile. He followed, his movements slower, more deliberate, as if he was trying to figure out how to navigate the space between you. The small table sat between you both now, but it wasn’t the table or the breakfast that mattered—it was the unspoken words, the ghosts of last night, and the quiet ache that lingered in both of your hearts. You took a deep breath, the knot in your chest tightening as you realized you couldn’t dance around it any longer. You couldn’t pretend like it hadn’t happened, like you hadn’t both crossed a line you swore you wouldn’t. The words caught in your throat, but you forced them out, your voice soft and shaky.

“Jude,” you started, glancing down at the table before meeting his eyes. “I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done what I did, but all it’s done is made me realize—” Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed forward. “There’s no one like you. No one.” The admission hung in the air between you both, heavy with meaning. Jude’s expression softened, but the pain was still there, written all over his face. He looked down at the table, then back at you, his jaw tightening as if he was trying to hold something back.

“I feel the same,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “What I did… I regret it. I wish I could take it back. I thought… I thought it would make it easier to forget everything, to just push it away. But it didn’t. It just made everything worse. Because it’s you—there’s no one else that’s you.” The honesty in his words hit you like a wave, but it didn’t wash away the hurt. The pain still lingered, heavy and raw, between you both. You nodded slowly, your throat tightening with the threat of tears, but you blinked them back. This wasn’t the time for tears. This was about trying to move forward, even if you didn’t know how. You looked at him, the sunlight casting soft shadows over his face, and you felt the weight of your heart in your chest.

“I think… I might be falling for you, Jude. And you don’t have to say anything back because this I know it’s probably stupid. It scares the hell out of me as well so….” You whispered. He didn’t move for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to find the right words, to make sure you really meant yours. Then, slowly, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. The touch was tentative, but it was enough to ground you, to remind you that, despite everything, you were both still here.

“I’m falling for you too,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “And I’m so so sorry. I’m so sorry for hurting you.” The pain still lingered, gnawing at the edges of your heart, but for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a small flicker of hope. You both sat there, in the bright Madrid sun, the weight of your mistakes still heavy, but the possibility of something more—something real—finally starting to take shape. You weren’t sure if you could fully move past what had happened, but in that moment, with Jude’s hand resting on yours, you knew you couldn’t walk away either. Not yet. Not when there was still so much left to say, so much left to feel. The road ahead was uncertain, but for now, you had each other. And that, at least, was a start. Jude stood up from his chair, his eyes locked onto yours with a mix of regret and something deeper, something more raw. Breakfast was forgotten in an instant, the food sitting untouched as he closed the small space between you. “Come here,” he whispered, his voice soft but commanding, and before you could even think, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. The warmth of his embrace was immediate, and despite everything that had happened, despite the pain, you melted into him. He swayed gently, the movement slow and comforting, as the Madrid sun drenched you both in its golden light. The air was thick with the scent of the morning and the faint sounds of the city below, but up here, in this moment, it was just the two of you. Nothing else mattered. You had told yourself there wasn’t time for tears, that crying wouldn’t help anything—but the moment his arms wrapped around you, it all came crashing down. You couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears started to fall, first in quiet, controlled sobs, but soon, they were unstoppable. Your face pressed into his chest, your fingers clutching his shirt as if letting go wasn’t an option. Jude felt the shift, the way your body shook with the weight of your tears, and he tightened his hold on you, pressing a kiss into your hair. “I’m here,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “I’m here… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating it, over and over, the words flowing out of him like a mantra, as if saying it enough times might somehow erase the pain. But it wasn’t just about the apology—it was the way he held you, the way he swayed with you in his arms, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world, and he needed to keep you safe. Neither of you wanted to let go, neither of you could. The tears kept coming, your body trembling against him, but Jude didn’t move. He didn’t pull away, didn’t try to comfort you with empty words. He just held you, letting the weight of the moment sink in. You stayed like that for what felt like ages, swaying back and forth in the sunlight, the world around you fading into the background. Finally, your sobs began to quiet, though the tears still flowed. You buried your face deeper into his chest, his heartbeat steady against your ear, grounding you in a way nothing else could. His hand stroked your back, slow and gentle, like he was trying to soothe the ache that had settled between you both. It wasn’t a moment of resolution, but it was something. A step. And as you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you realized that despite everything, neither of you were ready to let go. Not of each other, not of the possibility of what you could still be. And for now, that was enough.

The atmosphere between you and Jude was tense at a bar. Despite the emotional reconciliation, Jude seemed to just move on after that. He was sweet to you of course but it kind of bothered you that he was acting as if everything was just as before. Just as before where Jude was primary, you were in secondary when it came to life in Madrid. Just as before where clarification about your relationship wasn’t needed. Jude could talk to the girls who wanted a photo but the second you took a step closer to lean over the bar towards the male bartender Jude’s eyes lit with fear and unfortunately a bit of possessiveness and annoyance. The feeling of your indiscretions still weighing on you both. The neon lights flickered outside, casting colorful shadows on the cobblestone streets of Madrid. Inside, the music was loud, the energy high, and the crowd lively—a perfect distraction from the lingering tension simmering between you. You didn’t like to be told what to do and even though it wasn’t being vocalized you were determined to prove a point tonight, that Jude couldn’t. Jude wasn’t the only one who could command attention, and you were tired of feeling like he was the one in control of this relationship. You’d now flown across the Atlantic Ocean for him twice now and yet there was still no clarification on what you were to him. If he wanted you to act like you were his, he’d have to tell you you were not just assume it. You knew people noticed you, but Jude had a way of overshadowing everything, making you feel like just another part of his world. Tonight, you wanted to remind him that you weren’t just an accessory on his arm. You were not like all those who had bowed down to him before. As you settled into a corner of the bar, Jude’s friend Aurelien had joined you, his usual easygoing charm on full display. Aurelien was one of the few people in Jude’s circle that you genuinely felt like you got on with and you knew he liked you. He was funny, handsome, smart, and—most importantly—he didn’t treat you like you were just Jude’s girl. You both spoke French, and tonight, you decided to use it to your advantage. The night had started innocently enough—but as the drinks flowed and inhibitions lowered. Flirting had always been second nature to you, and tonight was no exception.

“Salut, Aurel, ça fait longtemps,” [Hi, Aurel, it’s been a long time!] you said, your voice lilting as you slipped effortlessly into your shared language. You leaned in close to Aurelien, your lips curving into a playful smile as you greeted him in French.

“Ça va, YN? Toujours aussi belle,” [Are you okay, Y/N? Still so beautiful,] Aurelien replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he responded in kind. You exchanged pleasantries, your conversation light and easy, but with an undercurrent that was meant to get under Jude’s skin. And it worked. Jude watched you, his jaw tightening as he struggled to follow the rapid exchange. He didn’t know enough French to follow and the pace you and Aurelien were speaking at made it even harder to keep up. He didn’t like being left out. It felt deliberate, and it stoked the jealousy that had already been smoldering since the Instagram stories. You could feel Jude’s gaze on you, but you didn’t stop. You laughed at something Aurelien said, a light, airy sound that made Jude’s chest tighten. He knew what you were doing, and it drove him crazy. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—possessive, insecure, like he was the one who had to fight for your attention but he had been feeling it essentially since you met. It made him realize just how much he cared, how deeply he was already in. Seeing this in person made things brutally more painful than seeing it on his phone’s screen.

“Enough,” Jude said, his voice low and tense, leaving no room for argument. After a while, Jude wasn’t able to take it anymore. “We’re going home, yeah?.” He reached out, gently but firmly wrapping his hand around your waist, pulling your attention away from Aurelien.

“Already?” you asked, feigning innocence as you met his gaze. “But we’re having such a good time.” You looked at him, surprised by the intensity in his eyes. You knew you had pushed him, but you hadn’t expected this reaction.

“Now, Y/N,” Jude insisted, his grip on your wrist tightening just enough to make his point clear.

“Bonne nuit ma belle.” [Good night, beautiful.] Aurelien looked between you, sensing the tension. He offered you a sympathetic smile, but didn’t interfere. “Jude, hablaré contigo mañana.” [Jude, I'll talk to you tomorrow.] He gave you both a small wave before turning back to the bar. The car ride home was silent, the air between you thick with unspoken words. You could feel the tension radiating off him, but you didn’t back down. You had wanted to make a point, and it seemed like it had worked. As soon as you were inside, Jude turned to face you, his eyes dark with a mix of emotions— jealousy but most of all, desire. The second you both stumbled through the door, the click of the lock barely audible over the tension, Jude's hands were on you-possessive and insistent.

“Why do you have to do this angel? Why won’t you just be a good girl?” He demanded, his voice rough as he tried to keep his devious smirk at bay. You knew he was gaslighting you. God were you embarrassingly turned on though. The intensity in his words took you by surprise.

“You did it first.” You quipped trying to not cave too easily. You crossed your arms over your chest, meeting his gaze defiantly. “Why is it okay for people to fawn over you, but not for me?” you shot back. “You’re not the only one who can turn heads, Jude. I’m not just some accessory to your life.” You explained a bit more seriously than both you and Jude were expecting. He took a step closer, his worry now surpassing his lust.

“I know you’re not,” he said, his voice going soft with emotion. “But you’re mine, Y/N. I don’t want to see you with anyone else. I can’t stand the thought of it. Do you understand that? Not in Manhattan, not in Madrid, not anywhere in the world.” He explained to you, Jude's voice was low and dangerous. Suddenly as you glanced down and saw his pants beginning to tent and you smiled greedily. “Nah, if you wanted my cock so bad all you had to do was ask, angel. I'd fly anywhere in the world for this pussy.” Jude hand slowly came and gripped around your neck. At first it was gentle but then he squeezed taking your breath away. He gave you a smirk that made your pussy throb. His brown eyes smoldering with possessiveness. Jude's hands were on you-insistent. Jude wasted no time after that, pushing you against the door, his body caging you in. "You like to play with fire, don't you, baby?" he murmured, his warm breath fanning your neck. "Flirting with Aurelien right under my nose. You know no one turns you on the way I can though, isn’t that right?" He had you trapped you between the cool surface and the overwhelming heat of him. His lips found yours in a messy, hungry kiss, like he had been waiting all night for this moment, like every touch outside the door was just a tease for what was coming. Your head spun, not just from the alcohol, but from the intensity of his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like he couldn't get close enough. His kisses were fiery, desperate, as his lips trailed down your neck, igniting your skin wherever they touched. You gasped as his mouth grazed your collarbone, your hands instinctively gripping his hair, pulling him even closer. "You're just f’me," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “You know you’re just a whore for me.” His hands roamed your body with a mixture of tenderness and urgency, fingers tracing the curve of your waist before slipping under the hem of your top. The friction between your bodies was electric, every movement charged with desire. Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as his lips found yours again, more demanding this time, as though he couldn't stand the distance between you any longer. He had you pinned against the door, you could feel his need, his possessiveness, like he was marking you with every touch, every kiss. The world outside didn't exist anymore-just you and him, lost in each other.

"J-Jude, I didn't mean..." You melted into his hold, completely consumed by the heat of the moment, his touch searing into your skin like fire. You gasped as his hands moved to slid up your thigh, lifting your skirt. Your clothes were just disappearing second by second.

"Shh..." He silenced you with a finger on your lips. "You don't need to explain. I understand what you want, Y/N. You just wanted my attention." He patronized you in the hottest way and even though you knew you should hate him for it it had you desperate for him. His hands reached for the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs. You trembled as he exposed your wetness, your body betraying your guilt. "You're so wet, baby. Do you know why?" Jude's voice was a low purr, his fingers teasing your sensitive folds.

"N-no," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire.

"Because you wanted my attention and now that you’ve got it, you’re excited for me to punish you for being a whore tonight. And you’re gonna love it because you only get to be like this f’me, hmm?" With that, he delivered a sharp smack to your exposed ass, making you cry out.

"Fuck! Jude, please..." You squirmed against the door, your body already responding to his dominance. You moved your hips towards him, his fingers dragging through your fold and then pushing deep inside you. One of his massive hands gripping your ass then the other taking his thumb sliding it from your entrance to your clit. The base of his fingers and knuckles were wet with your slick sliding in and out of you as he simultaneously began to make tight circles on your clit.

"Please what, angel?" He landed another spank as he multitasked, leaving a stinging sensation on your skin. "Do you like being punished for flirting with my friends? Does it make you wet knowing I'm the only one who can touch you like this?"

"Yeah, please... more..." You couldn't deny the pleasure his words and actions were eliciting. Your head fell back, exposing your neck. His lips quick to find your neck, sucking on your sensitive skin. You bucked your hips up against his hand as he moved his fingers in and out of you, his thumb still working your clit.

"That's my good girl. You know who you belong to. I'm going to remind you just how much you're mine. Remind you of the way only I can make you feel." Jude chuckled, the sound sending a thrill through your body. You felt his free hand roam over your body, claiming every inch of you. His fingers pinched your nipples through the lace of your bra, eliciting a moan from your lips. "That's it, let me hear your sweet voice," he encouraged, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me how much you want my cock." You knew your climax had been rapidly approaching and then he snatched it away. You gasped with a whine. Jude was in control tonight and he was making sure you knew that.

"I want it your cock, Jude, please!” You pleaded, your words fueled by the building desire. Your hand trailed down to the front of his boxers, cupping his length. He groaned into your mouth as you kissed him. You squeezed lightly, feeling the precum soaking through the thin material. His cock twitched under your hand as you rubbed him through his boxers. You slowly began to kiss down Jude’s body.

“Fuck baby. You want to be a good girl now? Show me you know you’re just f’me.” Jude asked you feeling your lips above the waistband of his boxers. Never in your life had you gotten turned on by a man taking control of you, claiming you and yet Jude had you dripping. You took his cock out and greedily licked your lips at the thick length and the vein running along the side of it. You took his cock into your hand and pumped it slowly as you locked eyes with Jude, letting some of your spit drop down into it. Slowly you licked the vein from base all the way up till you wrapped your lips around the tip. Jude’s hands immediately found their way to the back of your head, grabbing your hair tight. You moaned around his length. Jude inhaled as you took more of him until he hit the back of your throat, he bit his lip watching you bop up and down on his cock. “You love having my cock in your mouth, angel, huh? Look so sexy like this.” he groaned. You moaned and the hum vibrated through him. You took him deeper picking up the pace, minute after minute flying by. “Baby…you’re gonna make me cum like this.” Jude groaned as you let him fuck your face. “You don’t want me to cum in your mouth though do you? I think you like it when I cum somewhere else, that right?” Jude breathily got through his words. You nodded as he cupped your chin and pulled you off him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The sight of you with drool pooling in the corners of your mouth, tears on your lash line had him in a lustful haze. He roughly pulled you up and pressed his lips to yours.

"Please, fuck me. Remind me I’m yours." You begged him pulling away from the kiss. He wasted no time. He pulled his shirt over his head. Once his shirt was off, he picked you up, his hands sliding over the curve of your ass, down under it, and to the backs of your thighs, lifting you off the ground. He wrapped your legs around his waist, settling you there. He reached down and positioned himself at your entrance. Without direction you dragged Judes fingers up to your mouth taking two of them into your mouth. You moaned, wrapping your lips around his fingers as his length slowly filled you. He took his hand from your mouth both his hands palming your ass, pressing your back to the door in a fury.

"Oh my god, fuck.” you cried out as he entered you in one swift motion, filling you completely. Jude's hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as he began to thrust.

“Mmm. That’s it. That’s the spot, huh?” He smugly smiled as he found your g spot in an instant. Your face scrunched, and jaw slacked with a nod confirming. “Feel so good, baby" He grunted, his breath ragged. "So tight and wet around my cock.” He groaned. Your body felt like it was on fire as you pushed your heel into his muscular back.

“Jude, I fucking love y… your cock.” You whined, almost catching yourself out as you bounced on his cock. You called out his name as he hit all the spots perfectly fit for him. The pace, the force, every stroke was everything you could ever want. You leaned in, your lips slamming into his again as he continued to pound into you.

“God, you love it like this, don’t you?” He growled moving his lips, kissing up your jaw to your ear before nippling on it, then grazing his teeth down your neck. Your pussy tightened around his cock. You were a mess as Jude guided your hips. You were barreling into an orgasm. Jude pushed you harder against the door letting one of his hands drop in between you two to find your clit. “That’s right. Cum f’me baby.” And with that your body convulsed as you came undone on Jude’s cock. The coil in your stomach snapped, the pressure sending Jude over the edge with you. Your orgasms hit you like waves, crashing over your bodies. Your nails dug into his muscular back as you rode the intense pleasure. Jude's grip on your hips tightened, holding you in place as he continued to thrust. Your bounces slowing down to a stop. His sweat-coated chest heaved as he lazily smiled at you with a look that you could describe as love.

"YN, I..." Jude's words turned into a growl as he emptied himself deep within you, his hot cum filling your core. As your bodies calmed, he pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss until he pulled away almost breathless. "I understand tonight…" he whispered against your mouth. Your bodies still buzzing from the intensity of it all. The air between you felt different—charged but also heavy with unspoken words. Jude looked down at you, his gaze soft but serious, the remnants of that fiery possessiveness from earlier still lingering in his eyes. His fingers traced gentle lines along your though, as though grounding himself in your presence. “But you know…” he began, his voice low and thoughtful, “I’m not blind to it. I know how everyone looks at you.” You turned your head slightly to meet his eyes, sensing there was more he needed to say. He exhaled, his hand pausing on your skin. “You’re so… God, you’re the most gorgeous girl in Madrid. In Manhattan, too. I see it in their faces—my friends, strangers, people at clubs. They all see what I see. And I know…” His voice wavered for a moment, the vulnerability seeping through, “I know how coveted you are. I know what it must feel like for them, knowing I’m the one who gets to be with you.” You blinked, taken aback by the rawness in his words. He wasn’t just talking about your looks—there was something deeper there, something that made your heart ache in the best possible way. Jude leaned in closer, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “But it’s not just that I get to sleep with the hottest girl in Madrid or Manhattan,” he continued softly, “I don’t take for granted that I’m the one who gets to know you. Like really know you, behind the glass; your fears, your dreams, the way your mind works, the things that make you laugh. No one else knows you like that. And I’m so fucking lucky you let me be that guy.” His admission hung between you, raw and real, and you felt your chest tighten with emotion. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were his world, his everything. “I don’t take any of this for granted,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Not for a second and I’ll never stop being grateful for that.” You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as your fingers instinctively reached for his, intertwining them with yours. It wasn’t just about the jealousy or the possessiveness—it was about the way he saw you, understood you, and cherished you in a way no one else ever had. You smiled softly, your heart full, knowing that despite everything—the flirting, the teasing—it all came back to this: the two of you, here, together, holding onto something that felt too precious to let slip away.

"Thank you. That means a lot to me.” You smiled, a little breathless, as you realized the depth of your submission to this man. The night's events had transformed into a powerful reminder of the intense connection you shared, leaving you both satisfied and utterly spent. This was a little fun though, no, Jude?” You giggled. He nodded very matter of factly. You headed upstairs drunk off a little bit of tequila still lingering and very drunk off him. You were slightly mortified he just fucked you in the foyer but it was late. It was morning essentially and that made it all the more risky.

“It’s okay.” He whispered in your ear reassuring you as he walked behind you, his arms wrapped around you as you carried half of your clothes upstairs in your hands. “You just can’t help yourself. No one can make you feel the way I can and you just were so horny for me. You couldn’t wait.”He kissed your bare shoulder.

“Oh my god! Shut up honestly.” You groaned through a quiet giggle. “You came home and were all over me because you are the most jealous man I’ve ever met. I spoke french to Aurelien for 5 minutes and you came home and you just couldn’t help yourself because no one can make you feel the way I can and you just were so horny for me.” You quipped reciting his words back to him. He kissed your hair and then rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t wait.” You kissed your teeth.

“Yeah yeah yeah. You got me but let’s face it we’re very good at fucking. It’d be a shame to waste such talent, hmm?” He kissed behind your ear. You shook your head as you entered his bedroom. Jude turned you around to face him, his hands framing your face as he looked into your eyes. “Y/N, jokes aside. I don’t want anyone else, and I don’t want you with anyone else, yeah?” Jude honestly told you. Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of his words. For so long, you had been afraid to let yourself fall, afraid of getting hurt, but now, hearing Jude’s confession, you felt your own walls start to crumble. You nodded terrified agreeing to this all over again.

The weeks that followed your decision to stay in Madrid were filled with a rare kind of bliss. You and Jude had found a rhythm that felt effortless, your days punctuated by moments of quiet intimacy and your nights by passion that left you both breathless. It was easy to forget the outside world when it was just the two of you, cocooned in your own little bubble. But the bubble had to burst eventually, and it did with the arrival of Trent and Whitney. Whitney and Trent arrived in Madrid with an energy of excitement, and Denise warmly welcomed them into the house. After a quick chat downstairs, Denise mentioned that Jude was upstairs in the shower, you probably just in the room, and sent them up to put their luggage away in one of the guest rooms. As Trent carried the bags up, Whitney trailed behind him, admiring the home decor. When they reached the guest room, Trent placed the suitcases down and stretched. He wandered over to the large window, taking in the view of the rolling Spanish hills. But something else quickly caught his attention. From his vantage point, Trent could see directly onto the balcony connected to Jude's bedroom-and there, completely unaware of their audience, were you and Jude. Jude's hands were gripping your ass, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked into you. Kissing you deeply, the two of you lost in each other, the moment heated and intimate under the Spanish sun. The sound of music and the running shower from inside Jude's room clearly meant to mask the intensity of your connection from anyone nearby.

"Erm… Whit baby, this is one hell of a shower Jude is having." Trent blinked a few times, taken aback for a split second, and then burst out laughing. Barely able to contain himself, he waved her over. Whitney walked over, curious, and followed Trent's gaze.

"Oh my God!" she gasped, immediately reaching to cover Trent's eyes with a mix of shock and laughter. The second she saw what was happening, her eyes widened. "Don't look, T! Oh my God!"

"Hey, they're just... taking advantage of the view. It's their balcony." Trent just chuckled, shaking his head. Whitney, now laughing, peeked again and then sighed, still mortified but amused.

“Well, I guess that's why Y/N enjoys Madrid so much." She kept her hand over Trent's eyes, playfully scolding him, but neither could stop laughing. They both backed away from the window, sharing a knowing look. "Let's let them, uh... finish Jude's 'shower," Whitney said, still giggling. They left the guest room quietly, trying their best not to make any noise as they made their way back downstairs, barely able to contain their laughter at the unexpected scene they'd stumbled upon. Trent had a game against Atletico Madrid yesterday and Whitney decided to tag along and extend their stay. Both their visit and your reconciliation was the perfect excuse for a party. Jude’s sprawling villa in the hills outside Madrid ideal for the occasion—luxurious, private, and large enough to accommodate the guest list that had grown exponentially over the days leading up to the event. The night of the party, the house was transformed. Lights twinkled in the trees that lined the driveway, the pool was lit up in shades of blue, and music pulsed through the speakers around the expansive outdoor space. People had come in droves—teammates, moreover athletes in general, influencers, and socialites. The kind of crowd that made the party a must-attend event, even if you didn’t know the host personally. As the night wore on, the atmosphere grew more electric. The heat of the day had settled into a balmy evening, but the temperature inside the house was rising. Drinks were flowing, laughter echoed off the walls, and the music was loud enough to vibrate through the floors. It was the kind of party where everyone was vying for attention, where girls dressed to the nines tried to catch the eye of one of the many footballers in attendance. But Jude was oblivious to most of it. He stood off to the side, leaning against a column with a drink in hand, his eyes never straying far from you. You were talking with Whitney near the pool, your laugh carrying over the noise, and Jude felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol. You were radiant tonight, your Ferragamo woven fringe mini dress perfectly draping off your body, your hair slicked back into a low bun exposing your bare back and patina Bottega drop earrings. He wasn’t the only one who noticed, either—he had seen more than a few guys look your way, their eyes lingering a little too long for his liking.

“Hell of a party, mate,” Trent said, coming over, clapping Jude on the back and pulling him out of his reverie, a wide grin on his face as he surveyed the scene. “Who knew you had a knack for this. Give Whit a run for her money. Don’t tell her I said that though.” Trent laughed. Jude followed with a chuckle, but his gaze was still fixed on you.

“Yeah, it’s something. But I really just had Y/N sort it,” he replied, though his mind was elsewhere. The atmosphere was warm, though slightly chaotic. After the rocky week you’d had, being surrounded by friends seemed like the perfect distraction but you were proving to be a distraction for him right now.

“They know how to throw a party, they know how to dress for one as well, hmm?” Trent remarked, nodding toward you and Whitney. He followed Jude’s line of sight and smirked. “Can’t say I blame you for being so distracted, I’m in the same boat.”

“She’s so amazing, bro. I really like having her here” he said, his tone more serious than he intended. “A lot more than I ever thought I would.” Jude tore his eyes away from you long enough to give Trent a look. Trent raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press.

“Yeah, mate, course,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Just don’t let her catch you brooding in the corner all night. Girls like her don’t like that.” Trent joked. He wasn’t really even sure what he meant but the sentiment stood. Jude didn’t need the reminder. He knew exactly how rare you were, and the thought of losing you—even in the smallest way—was enough to make him feel uneasy. But he wasn’t about to let his jealousy ruin the night, not when things had been so good between you. As if sensing his thoughts, you looked over at him, your eyes meeting his across the crowd. You gave him a smile, the kind that made his heart skip a beat, and excused yourself from Whitney to make your way over to him. Jude straightened up as you approached, his earlier tension melting away in your presence.

“Who knew the host was so handsome.” You giggled. “Enjoying the party?” you asked, your voice soft as you reached him, your hand lightly brushing against his arm.

“Not as much as I’m enjoying looking at you,” Jude replied, his lips curving into a smile as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re the most beautiful thing here, you know that?”

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” you teased, though the compliment had clearly flustered you. You blushed, your eyes sparkling as you looked up at him.

“Only when it comes to you,” he said, his hand finding the small of your back, drawing you closer to him. Jude’s smile widened. For a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background, and it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other. Jude could feel the familiar pull between you, the magnetic connection that made it impossible to stay away from you for long. He wasn’t sure what it was about you that had gotten so deep under his skin, but he knew he didn’t want it to end. “I’m glad you stayed, angel” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the music. “Thank you so much for coming back.” He sadly smiled.

“I’m glad I stayed too,” you replied, your hand coming up to rest on his chest. “And just so you know, you’re the only one I’m interested in tonight.” You looked up at him, your expression softening under his gaze. Jude felt a surge of relief at your words, the last remnants of his earlier jealousy fading away.

“Good,” he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “Because you’re the only one I want.” He whispered and your heart fluttered. Jude’s house was alive with the sounds of music, laughter, and clinking glasses. Both of you dancing around the fragile reconciliation you both had recently achieved. But, despite the fun, the air held a lingering tension. The party was filled with faces you didn’t recognize, girls who clearly had no idea Jude was seeing anyone.

"Where’s Jude at?" One girl leaned in closer to ask Toby. As the evening progressed, a group of girls gathered near him, drinks in hand, casually glancing around the room.

"He’s with his missus." Without hesitation, Toby, always quick with a response, looked up from his drink, scanning the room.

"Wait, Jude Bellingham is seeing someone?" one of them asked, almost incredulously. “The Jude Bellingham?” The girl almost choked. The girls exchanged surprised glances, clearly caught off guard by the revelation. Toby nodded, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you and Jude. You’d retreated to the corner of Jude’s living room, away from the crowd. You were curled up together on a sofa now, Jude’s arm draped casually yet protectively around your shoulders, both of you wrapped up in quiet conversation. The soft glow of the lights made the scene look almost too intimate for the party’s bustling energy. From across the room, you caught the subtle shift in attention and noticed the group of girls whispering while throwing glances in your direction. Toby’s gaze followed, a smirk playing at his lips as if he knew something they didn’t.

"Maybe we should sit up or, I don’t know, tone it down? People are staring," you whispered, your voice laced with hesitation. Feeling the weight of the eyes on you, you shifted uncomfortably and turned to Jude. But Jude, caught up in the comfort of having you close, shook his head and tightened his grip on you.

“Let them look,” he said casually, brushing a kiss against your temple. "I don’t care what anyone thinks. All I care about is you." You tried to protest again, your self-consciousness rising, but Jude silenced you with a smile that left no room for doubt. He wasn’t hiding you, and for once, you weren’t a secret. Toby, seeing the whole scene unfold, raised his drink in a silent toast from across the room, acknowledging the quiet but significant shift in Jude but there was something almost taunting about it. It wasn’t just about you anymore—it was about you both, together. And whether or not the girls liked it, Jude wasn’t about to let you go and you were trying to read just what Toby thought about that.

As the night wore on, the party continued to buzz around you, the laughter and chatter of the guests creating a lively backdrop to the quieter, more intimate moments Jude and you were sharing. You hadn’t moved in hours. The couch you settled on was plush and inviting, a perfect spot to unwind and steal a few moments for yourselves.You nestled into Jude’s side, your head resting on his chest as he draped an arm around your shoulders. The warmth of his body against your was comforting, grounding you in the midst of the chaos that swirled around you. You were close enough to the action to still feel a part of it, but far enough away that you could have a conversation without having to shout over the noise. You just sat there, content in each other’s presence. Jude absentmindedly played with a tassel of your dress twirling it around his finger as he looked down at you. There was something so peaceful about moments like this—when it was just the two of you, and the rest of the world seemed to fade away. After a while, Jude broke the comfortable silence.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft but carrying an undertone of seriousness, “I’ve been thinking a lot about us lately.” He cooed.

“What about us?” you asked, your voice gentle as you studied his expression. You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes curious. Jude paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. Embarrassingly you were hoping he’d give you some sort of label.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone before,” he admitted, his tone earnest. “You’re… different. You’re like a piece of art—one of those masterpieces that people spend their whole lives searching for. And somehow, I got lucky enough to find you.” Jude’s expression was serious.

“That’s quite the compliment,” you said, your voice touched with amusement. “You’re saying I belong in a museum?” You felt your heart swell at his words, a soft teasing smile playing on your lips.

“Not a museum,” he corrected, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. Jude chuckled, shaking his head. “You belong in a private collection, where only the right person can fully appreciate you. You’re not just beautiful, Y/N. You’re one of a kind.” he mused.

“I think you’re giving me too much credit,” you murmured, though his words had clearly touched you. Your smile widened, but there was a hint of shyness in your eyes. It wasn’t a label but this was a sweet conversation.

“No, I’m not,” Jude insisted, his voice firm but tender. “I mean it. There’s something about you… something I can’t quite put into words. It’s like you’ve got all these layers, and every time I think I’ve figured you out, there’s something new. Like those paintings that reveal something different every time you look at them.”

“You really know how to flatter a girl, don’t you?” you teased, though the affection in your voice was unmistakable. “But you know, I’ve always thought of you as more of a sculpture. Strong, defined… but there’s a softness to you that people don’t see unless they get close enough.” You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head slightly. Jude’s expression softened at your words, his thumb gently stroking your shoulder.

“I like that,” he said quietly. “I like that you see me that way. But I think you’re the first one to get that close to me, Y/N. You’re the artist or maybe the gallerist I guess who brings me to life.” He smiled. You felt a lump form in your throat at the sincerity in his voice. You had always been careful with your heart, afraid of letting anyone get too close, but with Jude, it was different. He saw you in a way no one else did, and that scared you as much as it thrilled you.

“You’re important to me, Jude,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “More than I ever expected. Sometimes I feel like I’m still figuring out what this is… what we are. But I know one thing for sure—I don’t want to lose you.” Jude’s grip on your tightened slightly, as if he were afraid you might slip away.

“You won’t lose me,” he promised, his voice firm. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I want to be here, with you, angel, for as long as you’ll have me, as long as you want to stay.” He gently cooed. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, a silent acknowledgment of everything you were feeling but couldn’t quite say. When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you let yourself savor the moment.

“Stay with me tonight,” Jude whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Just like this. I don’t care about the party or anyone else here. I just want you.” He cooed.

“I’m not going anywhere, Judey.” You nodded with a smirk, your voice catching as you replied. As you stayed there with him, Jude felt fear wash over him. Just how smitten he was was ringing every alarm bell. He could feel it and although with you in his arms settling his racing heart he began to panic watching his other world spin around him and you creating a whole new one for him that just didn’t seem to be able to merge. You stayed curled up in Jude’s arms for what felt like hours, the world outside your little bubble fading away as the party continued to swirl around you. The music, the laughter, the clinking of glasses—it all became background noise to the comforting rhythm of Jude’s heartbeat under your ear. You could have stayed like that forever, letting the warmth of his body seep into you, but eventually, the effects of the wine and the hours of sitting began to catch up with you.

“I think I drank a little too much,” you murmured, your voice a mix of amusement and self-awareness as you glanced up at him. You shifted slightly, trying to ignore the way the room tilted ever so slightly as you moved.

“Yeah? You’ve had a long day, angel” he said gently, brushing a stray lock of fallen hair behind your ear. “Why don’t you go up to my bed? I’ll be up in a bit.” Jude’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Are you sure?” you asked, your voice laced with reluctance. You hesitated, not wanting to leave the safety of his embrace, but the warmth of the alcohol and the late hour were making you drowsy.

“Positive,” Jude replied, his tone taking on a more playful edge as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “And angel… make sure you’re ready for me when I get there.” He whispered. The suggestion in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt a blush creep up your neck. You nodded, your heart fluttering as you pulled yourself away from him and stood up, feeling slightly unsteady on your feet. Jude watched you go, his eyes following you as you made your way through the crowded room. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he watched your retreating figure. How could he miss someone who was still within his line of sight? The feeling was so foreign, so intense, that it almost overwhelmed him. He had never felt this way about anyone before—so completely taken, so utterly captivated. As soon as you disappeared from view, the atmosphere of the party seemed to rush back at him all at once. Like the crack of thunder. The noise, the lights, the people—it was a jarring contrast to the quiet intimacy he had just shared with you. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the realization of how deeply you had gotten under his skin left him reeling. Before he could process his thoughts, he felt a heavy hand clap down on his shoulder. Jude turned to see Toby grinning at him with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Mate,” Toby said, his voice tinged with amusement, “you’re down so bad. Oh my days.” He laughed.

“What are you talking about?” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. Jude gave a half-hearted chuckle, shrugging off the comment even as it hit closer to home than he would have liked.

“Don’t be daft” Toby continued, his grin widening. “I saw the way you were looking at her. You’re a complete melt, bro. I never thought I’d see the day.” He raised his eyebrows.

“It’s not like that,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. “She’s just… different.” Jude rolled his eyes, trying to brush off the teasing, but he couldn’t shake the feeling Toby’s words had stirred up inside him. Jude felt everything slipping as he was being called out. He felt out of control and he needed to get back to being Jude.

“Different? You mean she’s got you tied in knots, mate. Don’t tell me you’re getting serious about this girl. What are you doing, bro?” Toby raised his eyebrow once more, clearly unconvinced. Jude hesitated, his mind racing. He didn’t want to admit it—to himself or to anyone else—but Toby was right. He was serious about you, more serious than he had ever been about anyone. And that scared the hell out of him.

“Nah, you’re just seeing things,” he said, clapping Toby on the back. “I’m still the same lad I’ve always been.” Not wanting to dwell on the uncomfortable truth, Jude forced a grin and tried to play it off.

“Sure, Jude. Whatever you say.” Toby snorted, clearly not buying it. “But don’t let her keep you on a leash. There’s plenty of fun to be had in Madrid, where she doesn’t live, and here tonight, if you know what I mean.” Toby nodded toward a group of girls nearby, one of whom had been eyeing Jude all night. She was pretty, with a bright smile and a confident air about her. A year ago, Jude wouldn’t have thought twice about going over to talk to her. But now… now all he could think about was you upstairs, waiting for him. But there was a part of him—small but persistent—that didn’t want to let himself be so caught up in one person. He didn’t want to be the guy who got too serious, who lost his edge. He didn’t want to be the guy who let a girl tie him down, who let himself get hurt.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, though the words felt wrong on his tongue. “Gonna go see what’s out there. Nothing’s changed here.” In a moment of defiance—against Toby’s teasing, against the feelings he couldn’t quite understand—Jude made a decision. He gave Toby a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Toby laughed, clearly pleased with himself, and gave Jude an encouraging shove in the direction of the girl. Jude hesitated for a split second, his heart tugging him in the opposite direction, but then he pushed it down. He wouldn’t let himself get too deep, too invested. Not yet. With that thought in mind, Jude walked over to the girl, putting on his most charming smile, but even as he made small talk, his mind was elsewhere—on the girl who was waiting for him upstairs, the girl who had somehow managed to make him feel things he wasn’t ready to feel.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 8 - Last Night xx

[adore-gregor]

my perception of grades totally changed since i started uni

[e-vultures]

I realize this is a pretty lukewarm take on the 'fuck modern tech' site but god I fucking hate two-factor authentication. ok cool so after I intentionally set up barriers for myself to stop being on my phone specifically when I'm trying to get work done in order to get said work done I have to go get my phone? and go into its little notifications? and inevitably spend an hour distracted because of The Way My Brain Works (and the way it has been fucking trained to work by those notifications)? when I tried to fucking get around this problem and work with the tendencies I know I have??? cool!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! great!!!!!!!!!!

[theearnestonion]

rant in the tags time. its angry and there's caps and swears and discusses.. ableism, I guess?? so beware and all that.

[emma-needs-attention]

I don’t shave every day. It’s not that I don’t “need” to; I have very dark, dense facial hair that grows quickly and remains pretty visible after shaving. When I do shave, I don’t try to cover it with makeup (beyond some powder to reduce redness). In most other ways I present very feminine, but I always have fairly obvious facial hair.

And it makes me feel terrible.

I started electrolysis a couple months ago. It’s excruciatingly painful, expensive, and it takes forever. In an hour-long session, my electrologist is able to remove hair in only a small region (about 1 square inch). A few weeks later, much of that hair comes back. I am told that it will take two to three years of regular treatments to remove it entirely. On top of that, I apparently have a condition called Post Inflammatory Hyperpigmentation, which causes the skin in affected areas to darken after treatment. For nearly two months after completing a single pass over my upper lip, my mustache was more visible than it had ever been, despite having significantly less hair.

And it made me feel terrible.

I know this is the best way for me to permanently remove my facial hair, but I just canceled all of my upcoming sessions and at the moment I have no plans to begin again.

If I could pay to have my facial hair instantly and completely removed I would empty my savings account. I am intensely aware of it any time I go out in public. If it makes me so uncomfortable, why do I not do more to hide it?

I feel incredibly privileged for a trans woman. I have a loving, supportive family. I have a well-paying job. I live in a very accepting area. I have never had a single person say anything negative to me about my gender identity, which was certainly not what I was expecting when I came out. It is important to me that I be visibly queer, and in my privileged position I am able to do that without fear. A year ago I didn’t think I would ever transition; now I want people to know that I’m trans.

I am disappointed with myself for wanting to remove my facial hair, for changing my voice. I am determined not to have to do more work than a cis person does. Cis women don’t have to shave their face every day. Cis men don’t have to shave their face every day. Why should I? This is who I am, what my body does. Shouldn’t I be proud of that? Am I not supposed to love myself the way I am?

But by that logic, why am I even transitioning in the first place?

I am doing more work than a cis person does. Cis people don’t transition, and transitioning takes effort. I know that there are cis people, both men and women, who do shave every day. Am I lying to myself? I’m a trans woman; aren’t I supposed to want to get rid of my facial hair? Shouldn’t I be trying harder? Doesn’t this give me dysphoria? Am I pretending not to have dysphoria so I don’t have to put in the effort? Does the fact that I’m not trying harder make me… I don’t know, less trans? Non-binary? Is it ok for me to call myself a trans woman? Am I lying to myself?

As a woman who was a man until thirty, there are things about my body that I must accept, that I won’t be able to change no matter how much money I dump into my transition. I’m tall, I have broad shoulders, I have large hands. No amount of surgery or hormones will change these things.

But there are many things that I can change, and while none of them are requirements for being a woman, they may still be changes that I want to make. Where do I stop? Am I finished transitioning when I’ve done everything that is physically possible? My goal isn’t to “pass,” at least not in the way that word is generally used. In a time when cis women are being assaulted because people think they’re trans—because they don’t “pass” as women—the idea of what it means to pass becomes blurry. Often when we say that we want to pass, what we really mean is that we want to be conventionally beautiful.

I am a woman. Therefore, I look like a woman. My transition goal is to pass as myself. I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out who I am so I can look like her. I don’t care whether people see me and think “that’s a woman.” I want to be able to look in the mirror and think “that’s me.” But it can be extremely difficult to separate your own image of yourself from society’s idea of what you should look like. Am I self-conscious about the size of my body because it doesn’t feel like me, or because I’ve been told that women should be smaller? There are tall cis women, there are broad-shouldered cis women, there are cis women with large hands. Those traits don’t make them less womanly.

For the aspects of my body that I do have control over, I am stuck wondering whether I am changing things to become myself, or changing them because I have internalized that the way I am is wrong. At the moment, facial feminization surgery is something that I think I might like to do. But how do I know that I want to do it for the right reasons? I don’t hate my face, but when I catch a glimpse of myself from certain angles I can’t help but think that it isn’t feminine enough. What I should be asking is if it’s Emma enough, but how can I know that? How do I know who I’m supposed to be?

I feel like I was supposed to be a cis woman, but… why? Who am I to say that I wasn’t supposed to be trans? That I wasn’t supposed to transition at thirty, to have both a male puberty and a female one? Being trans has made me more self-aware, more open-minded, more empathetic. The totality of my experience is what makes me who I am. Maybe there’s a world in which I was assigned female, maybe there’s a world in which I was put on puberty blockers as a kid. But the girl in those worlds isn’t me.

Loving yourself and wanting to change are two feelings that can coexist. I tend to think of body positivity as simply accepting yourself as you are, but it is more nuanced than that. As a trans person, who I am inside is not the same as who I am outside. Which one am I supposed to love? I do love myself, but I also love who I could be. I’m transitioning so that someday they’ll be the same person.

Over the past year I have become both my biggest supporter and my biggest critic. I constantly tell myself how pretty I am, how brave I am, how fucking cool I am (hey, nobody else is saying it and it’s true). This forced positivity has been fantastic for me. I can confidently say that I truly love myself for the first time in my life. But I sometimes feel guilty that I don’t love myself more.

I can’t help but stare at myself in the mirror all the time now. I actually bought a new mirror so I didn’t have to walk as far to do so. I’ve taken more selfies than I did in my entire pre-transition life. After many months on HRT, I finally see myself in my reflection. But my eyes refuse to focus on my stubble. Sometimes I catch myself thinking “I’m going be so beautiful once I get rid of this facial hair,” and it feels like a betrayal. Fuck you Emma, I’m already gorgeous.

[starsjulia]

rekindling us // leah williamson

a/n : based of this request!! also so sorry it’s short, school is currently consuming my being.

trigger warnings : accidental mistreatment of spouse? idk

You weren’t a footballer like Leah. You had your own passions, your own world, but you had always been her biggest supporter. Whenever Leah was exhausted after a long day, you’d make sure the house was tidy, cook her favorite meals, and offer her the kind of quiet comfort that came without asking. You didn’t need her to tell you how much she appreciated you—you believed her actions would show it. But lately, the actions weren’t there. The little things had faded away.

Leah was constantly missing plans. The dates you had carefully planned together were brushed off with a casual “Sorry, training went long,” or “I got caught up with the girls, we’ll do it next time.” You understood, at first. You knew how demanding her schedule was, how much her career meant to her. But the cancellations became more frequent, the nights spent waiting for her to come home stretched longer, and slowly, without even realizing it, you began to feel invisible.

You continued to put in the effort, thinking maybe she would notice if you worked harder. You took on even more around the house, making sure Leah didn’t have to lift a finger when she was home. But Leah barely acknowledged it. She was so wrapped up in her own world that she didn’t see how much you were doing, or how much it hurt to be overlooked.

One evening, you decided to make a special dinner. You knew Leah had been under a lot of stress lately, so you thought a quiet evening together would help her unwind. You spent hours preparing a dish (other than party food) that you knew she’d enjoy, setting the table with candles and soft music, hoping it would be a reminder of the love and connection you shared.

But Leah didn’t come home on time. As the hours ticked by, the food grew cold, and your heart sank. When she finally walked through the door, she didn’t even notice the effort you had put in. She tossed her bag on the chair and casually said, “Sorry I’m late. The girls wanted to grab a drink after training.”

You tried to hold it together, but the disappointment was overwhelming. She had forgotten, again. Forgotten the evening you’d planned, forgotten how much you’d been waiting for her. Without saying a word, you got up and went to the bedroom, tears stinging your eyes.

Leah, oblivious at first, finally noticed the candles, the untouched dinner, the quiet emptiness in the room. Her stomach twisted with guilt as she realized she had let you down again. She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before making her way to the bedroom.

She found you sitting on the edge of the bed, tears streaming down your face as you hugged your knees to your chest. The sight of you so upset shattered her. She had never seen you like this before, and it hit her hard—how much she had been neglecting you without even realizing it.

“Babe…” Leah’s voice was soft, full of regret. She knelt beside the bed, reaching for your hand, but you pulled away slightly, hurt and frustration etched into every movement.

“Do you even care anymore?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been trying so hard, Leah. I cook for you, clean for you, wait for you—just to spend a little time with you. But it feels like I’m not even a part of your life anymore. Like you don’t see me.”

Leah’s heart clenched painfully. She hadn’t realized how much her actions had been hurting you. She had been so focused on her career, thinking you’d understand, that she had failed to see how much you were giving and how little she had been offering in return.

“I… I didn’t know,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “I didn’t see how much I was hurting you, and I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, wiping at the tears on your cheeks. “I feel like I’m doing everything for you, and it’s never enough. I just want to feel like I matter to you. Like I’m more than just someone waiting at home for you.”

Leah’s breath hitched as she took your hands in hers, holding them tightly, as if afraid to let go. “You do matter. You matter more than anything, and I’ve been too caught up in everything else to show you that. I’ve been taking you for granted, and I’m so, so sorry for that. You deserve so much more than what I’ve been giving.”

Your tears fell freely now, but this time, Leah didn’t let go. She pulled you into her arms, holding you close as if trying to make up for all the times she hadn’t. “I’m sorry for missing our dates, for not being there when you needed me. I’ve been selfish, thinking you’d just understand, but that’s not fair. I love you more than anything, and I’m going to show you that. I’ll do better. I’ll be better.”

You sobbed into her chest, the weight of everything you’d been carrying finally spilling out. “I just miss us, Leah. I miss what we used to have.”

“I miss us too,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “And I’m going to make it right. I’ll make sure you never feel like this again. I love you, and I can’t lose you. Not over something like this.”

You stayed there for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence between you no longer filled with pain but with the promise of something better. Leah’s apologies weren’t just words; you could feel the sincerity in the way she held you, in the way she promised to be more present, more aware.

In the days that followed, Leah kept her word. She made more time for you—whether it was something as simple as cooking dinner together or making sure you had a proper date night each week. She paid attention to the little things, the ones she had overlooked before. Every day, she made sure you felt loved, cherished, and appreciated.

The connection you shared began to heal, piece by piece. Leah started to see just how much you did for her, and she didn’t let a day go by without thanking you. She showed up for you, not just physically, but emotionally, and you could feel the shift in your relationship.

Leah would wrap her arms around you from behind while you cooked, pressing soft kisses to your neck and whispering, “Thank you. For everything you do. I love you so much.” You’d smile, feeling the warmth of her love and knowing she truly meant it.

It wasn’t long before you both found your rhythm again. The love between you was stronger now, forged through the realization of what truly mattered. Leah’s career would always be important, but she had finally learned that the most important part of her life was you—the person who had stood by her, supported her, and loved her through everything.

And from that point on, Leah made sure that you always knew just how much you meant to her. Because, in the end, no match, no trophy, no accolade could ever compare to the love she had with you. You were her heart, her home, and she would never let you forget it again.

[taurasiluvr]

Can I request CC being pissed asf after losing a game so she fks her gf with strap using all that pent up anger

absolutely need that

caitlin was nothing short of pissed.

the game had been a disaster from start to finish. the opposing team had taken an early lead, scoring within the first few minutes, and things had only gone downhill from there. despite their best efforts, her team had been outplayed at every turn. passes were intercepted, shots missed the mark, and their defense was like a sieve, letting through shot after shot.

by the time the final whistle blew, the scoreboard read a humiliating defeat. caitlin had given it her all, running herself ragged trying to turn the tide, but it hadn’t been enough. she could feel the frustration boiling over as she stormed off the court, barely acknowledging the half-hearted pats on the back from her teammates.

in the locker room, the atmosphere was tense. no one dared to speak, each player lost in their own thoughts of what had gone wrong. caitlin ripped off her basketball shoes, throwing them against the wall with a loud thud. she slumped onto the bench, her head in her hands, trying to calm the raging storm inside her.

she was glad she had someone back home, who could soothe her frustration and help her get back the confidence she needed to have for the next game.

that was how you ended up on your stomach, getting absolutely wrecked by caitlin's favorite strap. your face was pushed against the pillows however, it didn't do much to stop your noises from echoing throughout your bedroom.

"fuck," caitlin muttered, her hips snapping harshly. she was absolutely relentless, her pace punishing and unyielding. each thrust drove you deeper into the mattress, your body writhing with the intensity of it all.

"you like that?" she growled, her voice low and rough. "like being my stress relief, baby?"

you could only moan in response, your hands clutching the sheets as you tried to hold on. the pressure was building inside you, each powerful thrust bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

caitlin's hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack, making you yelp. "answer me," she demanded, her pace never faltering.

"yes," you gasped, your voice muffled by the pillow. "love it, i love being yours."

"good," she hissed, her hand sliding up your back, pressing you further into the bed. "because i’m not stopping until i’ve fucked all that frustration out of my system."

her words sent a shiver down your spine, the intensity of her need driving you wild. she pounded into you harder, the rhythm of her hips merciless and precise. the sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure mixed with just the right amount of pain.

caitlin’s free hand reached around to your front, her fingers finding your clit. she began to rub in tight circles, adding another layer of sensation that made your body quiver. "cum for me," she commanded, her voice dark and demanding. "wanna feel you cum around my cock."

you were on the brink, the combination of her relentless thrusts and the pressure on your clit pushing you over the edge. with a cry, you came hard, your body convulsing with the intensity of your orgasm. your inner walls clenched around her strap, your vision blurring as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

caitlin didn’t stop, riding out your orgasm with powerful thrusts, her fingers never ceasing their movement. she watched you in the mirror, her eyes dark with satisfaction as you fell apart beneath her.

when you finally came down from your high, your body trembling and spent, caitlin slowed her pace, gently easing out of you. she leaned down, pressing soft kisses to your back, her earlier anger and frustration replaced with a tender affection.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

[hoshifighting]

josh’s part in the cock worshipping post got me thinking thots and i raise you:

✨🎀 cock ring with a bow on it 🎀✨

— joshua using a cock ring with a pink bow on it — WARNINGS: smut, hand job, cum denial, edging, cockring, oil/lub, crying, begging, sub!joshua, dom!reader.

joshua's eyes are wide with desperation, his body trembling as he looks down at the pink bow tied around the cock ring. it’s such a pretty, innocent thing, but the torment it’s causing him is anything but. you can see the sweat glistening on his forehead, his abs tensed, muscles straining as he tries to hold on.

his cock is harder than you’ve ever seen it, veins prominent and skin flushed. his balls are tight, begging for release, and you can see the desperation in his eyes.

“please, y/n,” he whispers, his voice shaky. “please let me cum. i can’t take it anymore.”

you hum thoughtfully, running your oiled hand slowly up and down his length. the way he moans, his hips bucking involuntarily, makes you smile. “look at you, joshua,” you coo, your tone both teasing and affectionate. “so desperate, so needy. all because of a little pink bow.”

he shudders, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “it’s too much,” he gasps, his voice breaking. “please, i need to cum. i’ll do anything.”

you stop abruptly, watching as his face contorts in frustration and need. his body trembles, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. “you’re so pretty when you cry,” you murmur, wiping a tear from his cheek. “but you know you have to earn it.”

he nods frantically, his eyes pleading. “i’ll be good, i promise. just please…”

you resume your slow, torturous strokes, watching as he writhes beneath you. the oil makes every touch glide smoothly, and you can see the way it drives him wild. “do you like this, joshua?” you ask softly, your thumb circling the tip of his cock. “do you like being teased, being denied?”

“y-yes,” he moans, his head falling back.

“all tied up and desperate. you’re going to be traumatized by pink bows after this, aren’t you?”

he nods frantically, his breath coming in ragged gasps, making you laugh.

his tears flow freely now, his body shaking with the effort of holding back. you can see the strain in his muscles, the way his abs clench with every touch. “you’re doing so well,” you praise, your voice soothing. “just a little longer, okay? you can do it.”

he sobs, nodding weakly. “i can’t… i can’t…”

“yes, you can,” you insist, your hand moving faster now, the oil making obscene sounds in the quiet room. “just hold on a little longer. i know you can do it.”

his eyes roll back, his moans growing louder. you can feel him getting closer, his cock twitching in your hand. “please,” he begs one last time, his voice barely a whisper. “please let me cum…”

you feel a thrill of satisfaction at his words, his utter submission to you. “good boy,” you purr, finally reaching down to remove the cock ring. “you’ve done so well, joshua. you can cum now.”

the moment you slip the ring off, he lets out a cry of relief, his body shaking as he finally reaches his release. you watch him, feeling a sense of pride at how completely you’ve unraveled him. his moans fill the room, his eyes rolling back as he spills over your hand, his entire body tensed with the force of his orgasm.

when he finally collapses back against the bed, spent and panting, you lean down to kiss him gently. “you did so well,” you whisper against his lips. “such a good boy for me.”

he smiles weakly, his eyes fluttering open to look at you. “thank you, mistress”

[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND (iv)

FOUR - MOON AND STARS

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 9.8k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, graphic descriptions of violence, smut, oral (f receiving), loss of virginity, p in v

“Fuck, Eris,” you moan.

He slaps your leg harshly in a wordless command to keep your voice down as he buries himself further between your thighs. 

You’re not quite sure how you ended up here, pressed up against a bookshelf with Eris on his knees beneath you, your leg swung over his shoulder as he feasts on you like a man starved. You’re sure the myriads of ancient philosophers behind you are rolling over in their graves right now. But with the way he’s suckling on your clit like it’s his last day on Earth, you can’t complain.

You bite down on your lip so hard you can taste blood to keep the sounds at bay, but he seems determined to make your job impossible as he curls a finger against that delicious spot deep inside you. Your legs tremble violently as you feel your high approaching, and you grip onto his crimson hair for dear life. He can feel you clench around his fingers, and he flicks his tongue against your clit at a punishing speed.

“Eris, I’m—”

Your lips part in a silent gasp as you reach your peak. The ecstasy coursing through your veins is dizzying, and your legs fall limp. Eris holds you steady as he continues his ministrations, riding you through your orgasm until the overstimulation is too much and you’re pushing his head away. You glance down shyly through spotted vision to find up looking up at you, grinning like a devil. He pulls your panties back into place and eases your leg off his shoulder before rising to his full height. He taps his thumb against your mouth, and you part your lips obediently. He dips his fingers into your mouth, and you wrap your lips around them. Your cheeks flare at the taste of your own arousal, and he groans as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, sucking them clean.

“Always so good for me, Little Bird,” he murmurs while pressing a chaste kiss on the shell of your ear.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and dips down to your height to capture your lips in a slow, but sensual, kiss. 

“I think I like you better on your knees,” you mumble into his mouth. 

He grins against your lips, “I’d gladly spend eternity on my knees for you.”

You sink your teeth into his bottom lip teasingly, “If I’d known that all it takes to defeat the Fox is spread my legs, I would’ve dropped my dress a long time ago.”

He nips you back harder, “Don’t mistake my insatiable appetite for weakness, darling.”

Despite the playfulness of his words, there’s an underlying warning that makes your skin prickle with thrill. You whine in protest as he pulls away. He wipes his thumb over his mouth, collecting the remaining evidence of your tryst, before sucking it between swollen lips. 

“As much as I would love to stay hidden with you between bookshelves all day,” he smooths down the front of your wrinkled dress, “I do have a meeting to get to.”

Your lips dip into an exaggerated pout and you reach up to fix his tousled hair, “What will I ever do without you?”

The lilt of your teasing tone elicits a toothy grin.

“Allow me to walk you out,” he intertwines your fingers with his.

You frown and keeping your feet planted in your spot despite his efforts to guide you away, “Can I stay for a bit longer? I was hoping to get through the late Lady Margrave’s anthology before I was so rudely interrupted.”

His lips twitch upwards, but you can see the hesitancy in his eyes.

“I’d rather not leave you here alone,” he maintains.

You raise your hand to his face, rubbing your thumb along his jawline in a coaxing manner, “I promise I won’t be long. And Sage will keep an eye on me,” you reference the smokehound who is currently sleeping soundly in her favorite spot in front of the fireplace.  

He purses his lips, and groans as you teasingly trail your touch down the sensitive skin behind his pointed ear, “You are the devil.”

“I learned from the best,” you muse as you place a swift kiss on the corner of his lips, “Is that a yes?”

“A reluctant one,” he quips, “Only if you promise not to stray from the library—in and out.”

“Promise.”

With your fingers metaphorically crossed behind your back, you don’t feel an ounce of guilt lying through your teeth. 

He rubs his thumb along your knuckles before hesitantly pulling away, “’Till we meet again?”

You flash a coy smile, “’Till we meet again.”

Your shoulders slump with relief as he winnows away in a flash before he can change his mind about letting you stay. You pat your hair down and adjust the skirt of your dress before wandering back towards the front of the library. Sage twitches softly as you take a seat on the couch behind her and pick up your book. The fire warms you as you mindlessly page through the anthology, biding your time before you plot your next search of the house. Your eyes flick back and forth between the text in front of you and the grandfather clock in the corner, your leg bouncing with anticipation. Once the clock strikes 11:00, you deem fifteen minutes to be an acceptable waiting period. You shut the book and place it on the small table beside you, knowing that it will be magically reshelved. Sage sluggishly lifts her head when you rise to your feet, and you give her a soothing scratch between her ears.

“You’ll keep quiet about this, won’t you?” you coo as if she’s a loving pet, rather than a vicious animal.

She merely blinks at you, vermillion eyes unbothered.

An uncomfortable feeling settles in your chest. Eris must really trust you if this creature he’s trained to kill doesn’t so much as bat an eye at your snooping. You give her one last stroke before rising to your fall height and setting off towards the grand, oak doors. You slowly creak them open, peering out to make sure the hallway is empty before exiting. 

The chronically dim light of the hallways works to your advantage as you slink along the shadows in the corridors. This is risky—much riskier than you last venture, as the clock hasn’t even struck noon yet. There are sure to be guards and Vanserras lurking behind every corner. But with only two weeks left to uncover Eris’s true intentions, time is ticking. It’s been difficult keeping Rhys’s incessant pestering at bay, and you’re not sure when you’ll get another opportunity to search through the house with Eris’s constant watchful eye. 

You don’t rush through your movements this time. You empty your mind of everything except Azriel’s map, your eyes and ears at high alert. Beron’s office is about a mile and a half from the library, four floors up. With your creeping pace it will take at least thirty minutes to get there, so you can’t afford even a momentary lapse in focus. You approach your first guard and hold your breath as they unknowingly pass you. You keep your side pressed against the wall as you continue, your footsteps feather-light.

The Mother must be on your side, as you finally make it to the right hallway without running into a single Vanserra. You presume that Eris’s brothers must be with him at whatever meeting he is currently attending. The hair on your arms stands on end as you approach a large, scarlet door. Of course it’s red, you think to yourself. You pause, scanning both ends of the hallway. You wait a few beats, looking out for any unexpected guests, before emerging from the shadows and approaching the blood-colored door. You press your ear against the wood, listening carefully for any breathing or movements. You can sense some wards inside the room, but thankfully none on the door. So, with a deep breath, you wrap your hand around the doorknob.

Your heart beats at a thunderous pace as you creak the door open, inch by inch. Your shoulders slump with your relief as you are greeted with an empty, albeit ghastly, room. You hastily step inside and shut the door behind you before fully taking in your new surroundings.

Unlike Eris’s chambers and office which hold a warm glow, this room is…cold, to say the least. The walls are made of the same limestone in the hallways, and the floor is covered by a carpet the same shade of red as the door. In the center of the office sits a sleek, black desk. From what you’ve heard about the cruel High Lord, this is a fitting space.

You scan over the papers on his desk, careful not to move anything out of place. Nothing piques your interest, so you move to his cabinets. The first drawer slides open easily but contains no information you didn’t already know. You go to pull the second open, but frown at the ward keeping it sealed tight. You could use your spell-cleaving abilities—but doing so may alert Beron that someone went rifling through his office. With a sigh of frustration, you redirect your search to more discrete hiding places. 

You run a hand underneath the desk, and find a small, hidden compartment. You pull it out, and a rush of adrenaline surges through you as you stare down at the box full of correspondences with Brialynn. Although she is no longer a threat to Prythian, you eagerly rifle through them, hoping to find something that may reveal Beron’s next steps. But as you page through, your hope diminishes. Nothing useful—yet again. You carefully rearrange the parchment the same way you found it, and slot it back underneath the desk. 

“If I was a misogynistic tyrant, where would I hide my secrets?” you wonder aloud. 

You scale the room, running your hand along the bookshelf in the corner. Most of the books have collected so much dust, the titles are nearly impossible to read. But there’s a single binding in the corner catches your eye. It’s dust-free, unlike the others. You pull it out, but instantly regret your decision as you flip it open. You shouldn’t be surprised, really, that the only used book in Beron’s office is filled with obscene images of nude females. But that doesn’t stop your face from contorting with disgust. Despite the bile rising in your throat, you still flip through it just in case there is something of use buried within the explicit photographs. However, you are only met with disappointment and an even more blistering nausea as you come up short. You shove the book back in its place with a shudder. Pig.

Having searched every nook and cranny of the dreadful office, you’re at a loss. Your eyes land on that second warded drawer, and you bite your lip in contemplation. Is it worth the risk? You fish a spare coin from the depths of your pockets and pinch it tightly between your fingers. 

“Heads, cleave. Tails, don’t cleave,” you mutter to yourself.

If Rhys could see you know, he’d be screaming. Your lips twitch at the thought, and you throw the coin high in the air. It clatters against the desk and rolls around for a bit before landing.

Heads.

Cleave, it is.

You place both hands on the cabinet and shut your eyes. You take a deep breath in and dispel every lingering thought in your head with a slow exhale. You focus on the feeling of the cabinet at your fingertips, picture yourself physically sucking out every last drop of magic. A wet chill snakes across your hands, up your arms, as you twist and play with the magic, coaxing it to unfurl from the cabinet. Click.

Your eyes flutter open at the sound, and you find the drawer cracked open. A toothy grin stretches across your face as you grab the singular folder lying within. However, your smile drops instantly as you page through the contents: log after log of Eris’s whereabouts, finances, and even his smokehounds’ patrol patterns. Thankfully there’s nothing here that links Eris to the Night Court, but Beron knows about his monthly visits to the Spring Court. He knows his son is up to something. And if he finds out what, then…

Thunderous footsteps in the hallway break your train of thought. Your face pales, and you hastily shove the folder back inside the cabinet. Your hands tremble as you quickly put the ward back into place. Just as the lock of the drawer clicks, so does the blood red door swing open. 

You stand, frozen, as you stare into the cold, dark eyes of the High Lord of the Autumn Court. His lips are snarled, and his presence seems to engulf the whole room, but for some reason, his gaze isn’t fixed on you. He strides forward in three thunderous steps, and you stumble backwards to the other side of the desk, shaking like a leaf. But again, he seems to look right past you as he stops in front of the drawer where you were just stood moments earlier. Every survival instinct you have seems to vanish as you stand there, waiting for him to throw you in the dungeon, or better yet, execute you on the spot. But he doesn’t so much as look in your direction as he opens the cabinet and flips through the folder. 

Is he blind? How on Earth is he not seeing you?

You glance down at your trembling hands, and the silver ring sitting snugly around your  thumb winks at you. It couldn’t be—could it?

You creep backwards towards the door, and Beron slams the cabinet shut with a huff. 

“Must be a false alarm,” he grumbles under his breath.

He marches towards you, and you scramble out of the way just in time for him to brisk by. He swings the door shut with a slam behind him, and despite being left alone in the room, relief doesn’t wash over you. 

Your legs wobble as you reel over what just happened. You should be dead, or at the very least, behind bars. But by the grace of Eris, you’re standing here unscathed, despite feeling like your heart is seconds away from giving out. You stand unmoving for a few minutes, until the shock settles enough to make your escape.

The hallway is empty, and you don’t hesitate to slink into the shadows along the walls. You try your best to remain light-footed, but you can’t creep out the way you crept in. You all but run through the house, heart still pounding in your ears. Your stomach churns as you turn a corner and find yourself in a brightly lit passage—no shadows in sight. No sneaking through this one. If you get caught running, your near escape from death will be all for nothing. So, you take a deep breath before emerging from the shadows and setting into a steady stride. You breathe in and out with each step, counting your paces until you near the end of the stretch. Almost there.

But as you turn the corner, you collide with something hard.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Eris stares down at you, wide-eyed.

Think quick, you urge yourself.

“I was just—I was just looking for a restroom, and I got lost,” you stammer.

Your tone is unconvincing. But you hope the lie is enough considering you aren’t, in fact, too far from the library he left you in.

His jaw clenches and he grips your upper arm tightly, pulling you into an alcove around the corner. You want to shrink under his scrutinizing glare, but keep your chin high.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” his tone is firm despite his hushed whisper.

Your force your lips upwards into an innocent smile, “You just scared me, that’s all.”

He purses his lips and studies you as if he can see straight through your lie. He sticks his head out into the hallway, checking to make sure you’re alone, before speaking in a low murmur, “You promised you’d be in and out.”

“I know,” you hook your pinky finger with his in an attempt to settle his unease, “I’m sorry. Really.”

His relaxes slightly into your touch, but the tension in his shoulders is still apparent.

“Let me walk you out,” he sighs, and you silently sing praises that he doesn’t press the subject further.

He pulls his hand away from yours but rests a hand against your lower back as he leads you down the hallway. You follow quietly, still on edge. Even as you exit the walls of the Forest House in favor of the chilling autumn wind, you remain silent. The two of you pass at least a dozen sentries on your journey through the courtyard, but with Eris by your side, they don’t so much as bat an eye. It isn’t until you’re at least twenty yards out of the golden gates that you halt and turn towards the crimson-haired man beside you.

“I really am sorry,” you blurt, “I didn’t mean any harm.”

His lips curl into a soft smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“I’m not angry with you, Little Bird,” his voice is warm, but holds a certain harshness as he continues, “But you must think me a fool if you believe I can’t sniff out a lie when I hear one.”

Your cheeks flush and you divert your gaze to the ground beneath you. Intermix lies with half-truths, if needed. He’s privy to others deceiving him, Azriel’s voice rings through your mind. You twist the ring around your thumb in thought before raising your hand, the silver glistening brightly underneath the beating sun. 

“What is this?” you deadpan, gesturing to the ring on your finger.

His eyes harden and his soft smile dips down, “I take it you met my father?”

“I ran into him in the hallways,” you speak with conviction this time to conceal your lie, “And I wasn’t looking for the washroom. I wanted to surprise you in your chambers, and I thought I could find my way there on my own.”

He scans your face as he mulls over your response. To your relief, he seems to take the bait.

“It’s something I picked up during the war on Hybern,” he finally answers your question, “When adorned, the wearer becomes invisible to any High Lord’s gaze.”

 Your lips part as you study the shining piece of jewelry on your thumb. You move to slide it off and return it, but his hand wraps around yours.

“I told you I want you to keep it,” he affirms. You open your mouth to protest, but he changes the subject before you get a chance, “When will I see you again?”

Your height weighs heavy, but you force on a playful smile, “Bold of you to assume I want to see you again.”

He matches your teasing tone, “Bold of you to lie again.”

You roll your eyes, but your grin betrays you.

“Tonight?”

His eyebrows shoot up and his grin widens, “So eager to see me again, aren’t you darling?”

Your eyes narrow into a glare, “I can always occupy myself with my filthy little romance novels,” you drawl.

“It would be cruel of me to leave you imagining my head between your thighs when I can show you the real thing,” he stalks closer to you with a wide-mouthed smirk, “Meet me here after nightfall. I’ll send you a signal when I’m ready.”

A red tint crawls up your neck at his sinful insinuation. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered, you raise your lips to his ear and whisper lowly, “’Till we meet again.”

Before he can respond, you winnow away in a flash. The dust-filled cabin greets you. You don’t bother discarding your boots or coat as you pace by the fire. What the hell do you do now? Telling Eris what you found in Beron’s office would mean blowing your cover, effectively ending your mission. But not telling him would mean putting him in danger. You run shaky fingers through your hair, pulling tightly at your roots as if the pain will give you some sort of answer. 

You tug desperately at your connection with Rhys, screaming down through the cobblestone tunnels of your mind. Your patience is wearing thin, and the walls of the cabin seem to shrink in closer with each pacing step. 

Are you okay?

Finally, Rhys’s voice chimes through and you feel like you can breathe again.

I found something, you skip the niceties, in Beron’s office.

You can hear the frown in his voice as he replies, I thought I told you to stay far, far away from him.

You roll your eyes and choose to ignore his chastising, Do you want to hear what I found or not?

Obviously, he quips, irritation clearly laced in his tone.

Beron knows Eris is up to something, you cut straight to the point, I’m unclear on the extent of his knowledge—I had to get out of there before I could really comb through it all. But he knows Eris is sneaking around behind his back.

There’s a prolonged pause, and you hold your breath as you wait for Rhys’s response.

That’s it?

Your eyes widen in incredulity, and you hiss over the connection, What do you mean ‘that’s it’? Eris is in danger.

I mean that’s not our problem to deal with, and your job is to dig up information on Eris, not Beron.

The nonchalance in his voice makes your blood boil.

It most certainly is our problem if Beron is out for blood. If he makes a move against Eris before Eris gets to him, not only is our alliance with Autumn shot, but so is Prythian stuck with Beron as High Lord for another eternity.

You don’t attempt to hide the distress in your voice—even if you risk revealing more than you intend about your feelings towards the Autumn Court heir. 

You’re right, Rhys reluctantly replies.

You head lulls back in relief, I know I am. 

I’ll have Cassian tip Eris off when they next meet in Spring, Rhys decides.

You frown. Cassian and Eris meet on a monthly basis in the Spring Court, and if you remember correctly, they aren’t due to meet again until you leave Autumn.

You need to inform him sooner, you argue, What if Beron makes a move before then?

If we tip him off now, that may very well expose you. And my first priority is your safety, not the sly bastard’s.

Much to your displeasure, Rhys’s tone is firm and leaves no room for discussion. 

Fine, you bitterly relent.

You raise the cobblestone barriers of you mind before he can reply. You know it’s childish and rude, but right now, you couldn’t care less. You were already on edge, and now your mood has been soured even further. 

“Stupid High Lords,” you grumble while kicking the dust underneath your feet, “What ever happened to democracy?”

Democracy hasn’t existed in Prythian in at least a millennia. But that doesn’t stop you from fantasizing about a world in which it does—a world void of archaic classist ideologies, misogyny, and most importantly, pompous High Lords who have a stick so far up their ass they can’t see straight. You lay on your bed, still fully clothed, and stare up the ceiling as you immerse yourself in your imaginary land. Maybe it could be ruled by females—warriors like the Valkyries. Education would be a universal right. A soft smile tugs at your lips at the thought of it. Maybe you could work teaching younglings, fae and humans alike, the works of Tydeus and his scholarly counterparts. Or maybe you’d be a scholar yourself, travelling from territory to territory, documenting the lives of each kind of resident because everyone’s story deserves to be told.

Anxiety still grips you like a vice—but dwelling on it would be futile. So, you close your eyes and keep building your dream wor;d. And for just a moment, you let yourself slip away from the harsh reality of your predicament.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Meet me after nightfall, he said, I’ll send you a signal, he said.

Night has fallen. It fell nearly four hours ago, in fact. And as the clock nears midnight, there’s still no signal in sight. 

You’ve been trying your best to busy yourself—folding clothes, reading, tending to the fire. But with each minute that ticks by, your patience thins and your worry grows. He’s probably still wrapped up in whatever business he has. But after your revelation in Beron’s office that morning, you can’t help but picture a grimmer scenario. 

As the long hand of the clock passes the 12, your resolve crumbles. You hastily pull on your boots and drape a cloak over your shoulders. Before you can talk yourself out of it, the world twists and folds and you find yourself in the spot outside the golden gates where you left him earlier that day.

It’s deadly silent, the only sound coming from the large oak trees rustling against the wind. The stars twinkle bright above, giving you some source of light as you scale the area. You keep quiet, eyes and ears alert for any sign of life. 

A sinister feeling rolls through your gut. Something’s wrong. You’re not sure how, or why, but you can sense it—clear as the night sky in Velaris.

You calmly approach the golden gates, chin held high as the sentries come into view. They look over you in a scrutinizing manner, but don’t make any movement to stop you as you pass underneath the glistening arch. Once through, you conceal yourself in the shadows as you scale the courtyard and head towards the closest entry to Eris’s chambers.

The moment you enter the Forest House, the sinking feeling in your stomach grows. You make quick work of the stairwells and hallways, moving swiftly but remaining in the shadows to avoid detection. This time, the image of Azriel’s map doesn’t guide you—rather, your body moves on its own accord, as if being tugged along by some otherworldly force. Your steps falter as you approach the oak doors of Eris’s private chambers. You slip out of the shadows and press an ear to the door. All you can hear is the crackling of a fire, and so with trembling hands, you slowly twist the door open.

Your heart breaks at the sight before you.

All you see is red. It burns bright ruby in the embers of fire. It flows deep crimson in the locks of his hair. And it bleeds angry scarlet from the skin of his back.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His voice is almost unrecognizable. He sits crouched in front of the fire; head slumped. His limbs are limp, shoulders heaving in shuddered breaths. And his back faces you, displaying a tunic so bloodied, you can barely see its eggshell white color.

“Leave,” he croaks.

But you can’t. You can’t move. You can’t breathe. All you can do is stare at the violence of the red. Everywhere.

His head cranes to the side, and your eyes meet his. Gone is bright amber. They are cruel—handcrafted by the wicked of the world.

“Are you deaf?” he snarls, “Get out. Now.”

His cold gaze returns to the fire. Despite the malice of his tone, you creep forward slowly, as if approaching a wild animal. As you walk closer, you can see the slash marks more vividly. You can see how the fabric of his shirt splits around each slice, count the number of marks on his back. He’s trembling. With rage or pain, you’re not sure—perhaps both. And as you approach his side, you can see how he holds his hands over the blazing flames. It’s reminiscent of your burn and pull away game. But he never pulls away. 

You crouch down beside him on your knees, facing his side. But his gaze is unmoving from the flames. His jaw clenches tightly as you study his profile. Up close you can see the swelling around his eyes, the dried tear tracks on his cheeks. Your own eyes water but you refuse to let them fall. Instead, you reach your arms out to his. You move slowly to avoid startling him, and he doesn’t stop you as you gently wrap your hands around his wrists. The fire burns hot against your skin, but you grit your teeth through the pain. 

He allows you to gently guide his hands away from the flames. You intertwine your fingers with his and rub his knuckles soothingly even as his hands lie limp in your grip. His head remains trained towards the fire, and you can see the reflection of the flames dancing in his golden irises. You lower your head reverently to his hands and brush your lips against them. You place a delicate kiss on each knuckle—as if doing so can take away just a little bit of his agony. Just as you think he may relax into your touch, he snatches his hands out of your grip.

Eris rises abruptly, hissing at the pain, and braces himself with one arm against the wall. He glares down at you.

“I told you to fucking leave,” he bellows. But you don’t so much as flinch at his harsh tone. Instead, you rise from the ground in front of him.

“No,” you speak with conviction, but maintain a gentle tone.

His jaw shifts, “I’ll call for my guards.”

“No, you won’t,” you retort.

He’s furious—you can surmise that much. But his cold exterior is slipping, and you’ll be here to catch him when he falls.

“Wipe that pathetic look off your face,” he sneers, “I can’t stand it.”

“I’m sorry,” you reply simply.

His façade cracks. For just a moment, you can see the anguish hidden beneath his glaring eyes. His hand slips down the wall, and he grunts as he pushes himself back up. But his body is trembling, his legs shaking. You lurch forward just in time.

You loop your arms around his neck, careful not to graze any of his wounds, and encourage him to lean his body weight onto you. With a shaky breath, Eris succumbs to your touch and rests his head in the crook of your neck. His arms wrap loosely around your body to stabilize himself.

You can feel his eyes shut tight against your skin, and you gently stroke your fingers through his hair. He slowly tightens his grip around your waist, his hands fisting the fabric of your dress, until he gives into your comfort completely. You stand there for a while holding him, each of you afraid to be the first to speak.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

You continue threading your fingers through his locks, “I know. But I’m here.”

His grip around you tightens. You know he’ll need to lie down soon, but you don’t want to push him.

“Let me help you,” you whisper.

He shakes his head, “You can’t,” he pauses before adding, “Faebane.”

You surmised as much. But that doesn’t stop the nausea at the far too vivid image of his torture. 

“Allow me to try. Please.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while. But after a few beats of silence, he grunts and lifts his head from your shoulder. You don’t miss the wince he tries to hide at the movement. He doesn’t protest as you wrap his arm around your shoulder and tug him in the direction of the bed. He leans his weight against you and allows you to guide him slowly. He grits his teeth with each step, but doesn’t so much as whimper at the shooting pain. Sweat beads on his forehead, and he nearly cries in relief when you reach the bed. He slumps down on his stomach and turns his head to the opposite wall, so he doesn’t have to look at you.

You stare down at the man before you, and hastily wipe away the tear that trails down your cheek. He looks…broken. You desperately want to march into Beron’s office and kill him yourself. But you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to maintain your composure. He flinches as you rest your hands at the bottom of his tunic, gripping it softly.

“May I?” you ask.

He nods reluctantly against the pillow.

You take a deep breath to brace yourself before ripping the fabric and sliding it off his body. You swallow your gasp as you lay your eyes on his bare back. At least a dozen angry red slashes cover the expanse of skin. They are raised, surrounded in half-dried blood. It’s clear that whatever torture device his miserable excuse for a father used was laced with Faebane, as they show no signs of healing. 

Eris shudders as you run a finger along the side of one of the wounds, careful not to press too hard or touch the affected area directly. You can’t heal him with the generous amount of Faebane. But you may be able to take the pain away.

The room is silent aside from the crackling fire as you hover your hands over his back and shut your eyes. You empty your mind and focus on your fingertips. You imagine tendrils of bright light extending, curling around each wound and stroking it with a gentle touch. You picture your mother—how she used her healing hands long ago to take away your pain when you cracked your head against the staircase banister as a youngling. You remember her soft touch, which in and of itself soothed your anguish. And then, you evoke an image of Eris. You focus on the strong bridge of his nose, the crinkle of his eyes when he laughs, the freckles on his skin. 

A moan of relief fills the otherwise silent room, and your eyes snap open. Eris’s features are relaxed—a stark contrast to the look of agony they held moments ago. 

“Better?” you ask softly.

He nods, his chapped lips parted. 

“Do you have a washroom?” you ask.

He blindly points an arm to the back left corner of the room.

The elegance of his bathroom doesn’t even register in your mind as you hastily grab several washcloths and wet them with warm water before returning to the bed. Eris hasn’t moved an inch.

“I’m going to clean them, if that’s alright,” you speak clearly.

He nods silently again.

The bed creaks underneath you as you sit on the edge and begin to work on his wounds. Even though he can no longer feel pain, you still take great care to clean each area carefully as to not further irritate the skin. With the mess of blood gone from his back, you can clearly see each laceration. They’re deep—painfully so—but once the Faebane wears off, you figure they should heal quickly. 

“All done,” you set the bloodied rags aside and stroke your hand soothingly down his side. 

He sluggishly turns over but still doesn’t meet your eye, even as he lays with his back on the bed. You remain seated on the edge, not wanting to cross any more boundaries than you already have.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he asks quietly, his eyes trained on the fire across the room.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. You knew the question was coming. And with the heavy emotions weighing on you, you can’t bring yourself to lie.

“A gift from my mother,” you reply, “She was of the Day Court, gifted with limited healing powers.”

He hums, “What was she like—your mother?”

Your lips curl into a soft smile and you kick off your boots so you can rest your feet on the bed.

“She was warm. Like a crackling hearth,” you roll the ring around your thumb, “Smart as a whip. I think in another life, she would’ve been a renowned scholar.”

His lips twitch upwards, but his eyes are solemn.

“Why wasn’t she?” he asks.

Because her life was stripped away by a cruel male who unknowingly impregnated her, you think.

 “Because she loved being a mother more,” you reply.

He nods in understanding. Silence fills the air again, but this time, it isn’t suffocating. You divert your gaze to the fire, watching how the flames move together in a coordinated waltz.

“I’m sorry,” Eris croaks, “For snapping at you.”

You turn your head, eyes wide with surprise. For the first time since you first entered the room, his gaze is trained on you. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. Their amber hue is magnificent. Even with the sorrow they hold, you wish to be bathed in the golden, bright as the sun, for the rest of your days. 

“Your eyes are breathtaking,” you whisper in response.

The golden resembles honey as his lips stretch into a soft smile. He shifts over slightly, beckoning you to come closer. You tentatively crawl forward and lie a few feet away from him, but he pulls you against his chest. You rest your head in the crook of his arm, sinking into his touch.

“They’re my mother’s,” he muses.

“What’s she like?” you use his own question against him.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “When I was young, she was bright—like the sun. But she’s…dimmed since then,” he diverts his gaze to the ceiling and wets his lips before continuing, “Autumn is beautiful, in all its colors. But people often forget how unforgiving its harsh winds can blow.”

You purse your lips as you mull over his words. You shift in his hold so you lay on your side, facing him. You’ve always longed to trace the bridge of his nose, the sharp cut of his jawline. And this time, you don’t stop yourself.

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” you ask while dusting your fingers over his freckles.

“Many times,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering at your delicate touch.

“Why don’t you?” you run your finger down the tip of his nose.

He catches your hand in his, resting it against his chest. You suck in a breath as he shifts, turning his head to face you. 

“Even in all its cruelty, this is my home,” he rasps, “You haven’t seen the wickedness I’m capable of. I wasn’t made to fly free like you, Little Bird.”

He wears a soft smile, but the sadness lingering beneath the mask is hauntingly beautiful. 

“It’s only in darkness that we see the brightest stars,” you barely speak above a whisper.

His forehead falls against yours, and you melt into his touch. 

“You’re too good for me, Little Bird. I can’t give you the life you want—the life you deserve,” his lips brush yours as he speaks.

You furrow your brows, “You don’t know what I want.”

His nose bumps yours, “And what is it that you want?”

A hurricane of emotion crashes over you. As you look into the golden of his eyes, you feel everything all at once—the fear, the confusion, the guilt, and most overwhelming of them all, love.

“I want you.”

It’s Love that surges you forward. It’s Love you hope he feels as you connect your lips to his. For the first time in your life, it’s Love that takes you over completely.

“I want you,” you repeat against his mouth, “Darkness and all its shining stars.”

It’s slow, but filled with a passion unlike any you’ve shared with him before. It’s salty—from his tears or yours, you’re not sure. And as your lips slide against his, you breathe a life into each other you never knew was missing before.

He raises himself from the bed and cages you between his elbows, his lips never leaving yours. You tangle your hands into his hair as he slides his tongue along your bottom lip, deepening the kiss. As he lifts you up and fiddles with the zipper at the back of your dress, you are reminded of the wounds on his back.

“You need to rest,” you gasp against his mouth, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t care,” he mumbles as he drags down the zipper at an agonizingly slow pace.

Any semblance of logic leaves your mind as he drags the fabric down your body. He disconnects his lips from yours and you arch into his touch as he reattaches them to your neck. He makes quick work of your bra as he trails open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Your mouth parts in a silent gasp as he wraps his lips around your nipple, flicking over the other with his thumb. He takes his time, worshipping every dip, every curve of your body. The arousal pooling between your legs is almost too much as he switches his mouth over to your other breast.

“Take me,” you gasp, “Mark me,” he toys with the band of your panties, “Have me,” he pulls the material down, “I’m yours.”

He groans against your breast before removing his mouth and licking his swollen lips, “You can’t say those things to me, Little Bird.”

“I mean it,” the hand trailing up your quivering thigh pauses, “I want you. All of you.”

He rises so your eyes are level with his, his hand still inches from where you need him most. He searches your face for any sign of hesitation—but there’s none.

“Are you sure?”

You grab his face and pull his lips down to yours. He shudders at your wordless affirmation but moves his lips against yours with a fervor you’ve never felt before. As his tongue swipes into your mouth, so does his hand continue upwards. You whimper as drags his middle finger through your slick, teasing your entrance before sinking in. Your eyes flutter shut as he curls it inside you, using his thumb to rub circles on your clit. You struggle to keep up with his kiss as he pumps his finger in you, stimulating the most intimate part of your body. Just as you fall back into rhythm, he works a second finger inside you. You mewl and tug harder on the hair at the nape of his neck. He rests his forehead against yours as his fingers stretch you out, his thumb continuing its ministrations against your clit. You feel the coil tightening in your gut, the unbridled pleasure building rapidly. 

You grip his bicep, squeezing it slightly, “I need you inside of me. Please.”

You gasp as he curls his fingers once more before pulling them out. Your body involuntarily chases after his touch, but he doesn’t give you a second to process the loss as he reconnects his lips to yours. Your hands tremble with need as you hastily work on the fastenings of his pants, eagerly pushing them down. You palm him through his underwear as he shoves the material off his legs. He moans into your mouth as you dip a hand underneath, wrapping your hand around his hardened length. You can feel him pulsing with need under your fingers as you stroke him. You retreat as he shoves the last bit of material down his legs, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he frees himself completely. 

Eris braces himself with both arms above you and your heart thrums in your chest as he stares down at you.

“You’re sure you want this, Little Bird?” he asks.

Your doe eyes are wide with need, “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

“You tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” he whispers as he nudges your thighs further apart.

You nod and wrap your arms around him, careful not to touch the wounds on his back. He runs his tip through your soaking folds, and you jolt at the sensation. You brace yourself on his shoulders as he lines himself up with your entrance. Your lips part in a silent gasp as he pushes just his tip in. He presses his nose to yours with a heavy groan, but doesn’t move as you adjust to the foreign stretch. 

“Keep going,” you gasp.

He peppers kisses along your jawline as he inches in further. Your toes curl at the burning stretch, your nails digging into his shoulders. 

“I need you to breath for me,” he mumbles against your jaw.

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath as you force yourself to exhale, eyes squinting as he shifts inside you. You cry out as he pushes in another inch, and he rests his forehead against yours once more.

“Talk to me, Bird,” he mumbles.

“It hurts,” you gasp, “But keep going.”

His eyes don’t leave yours as he pulls out slightly before pushing back in. He inches in further which each shallow thrust, and you slowly become accustomed to the stretch.

“Feels better now,” you gasp as he sinks in a bit more.

“Just a little more,” he coos, thumb stroking your cheek soothingly.

You think you might implode as he pushes in completely, his hips meeting yours. He releases a guttural groan as he bottoms out. You’ve never felt so full, and you’re sure you’re adding new wounds to his shoulder with how hard your nails are digging in.

“How does it feel?” his voice is strained as he reins in the instinct to pound you into oblivion.

“So full,” you whimper.

He catches the tear that trails down your cheek with his thumb.

“Is it okay if I move?” he asks gently.

You nod and wrap your legs around his hips to brace yourself. He hooks one arm underneath your thigh, steadying you before drawing back slightly and pushing back in. You moan in unison at the feeling, your walls squeezing him like a vice.

“Do it again,” you gasp.

His hips move again in a shallow thrust, and although the burn hasn’t subsided completely, it’s now accompanied by a budding pleasure in your gut. He reconnects his lips to yours, swallowing your gasp as he pulls out almost completely before sinking back in.

“Faster, Eris, please,” you moan into his mouth.

He shudders at the way you say his name, eagerly fulfilling your request as he slowly accelerates his pace. You whine with each roll of his hips, completely enamored with the way he fits into you so perfectly.

He reaches a hand down between you and you cry out as he uses his fingers to stimulate your clit. His thrusts never falter, and you relish in the sound of his skin slapping against yours each time he bottoms out. 

“You were made for me, darling,” he mumbles against your mouth, “The way your cunt just sucks me in.”

He raises your leg slightly, the new angle allowing him to hit you even deeper. The pressure in your gut builds with each thrust, and you feel your high rapidly approaching as he flicks your clit even faster.

“’M so close, Eris,” you groan into his mouth, barely able to keep your lips sliding against his.

He moves with a newfound vigor, latching his lips against your neck.

“Let go for me, love,” he coaxes, grunting at the way your walls spasm around him.

He flicks your nipple with his free hand, and that’s all it takes for you to find your release. You all but scream as you reach your high, clutching tightly onto his hair as waves of pleasure roll through you. His teeth press into your neck as his pace falters, and he bottoms out again before spilling into you. His groan is even louder than yours as he keeps rolling his hips, riding through both of your orgasms. Your vision spots and you feel like you’re floating as you come down from the peak of your high, falling limp beneath him. He slumps against you, pressing your body further into the mattress. With his weight on top of you and his softening cock still inside you, you’ve never felt more alive.

You stay like this for a while, reveling in the aftermath of your orgasms, until the lust-filled fog raises and the soreness between your thighs registers. He pulls out slowly, and you wince at the overstimulation. He raises his head from your neck and places a sweet kiss on your lips before flopping down beside you, exhaustion finally kicking in.

You lazily drape an arm over his stomach and nuzzle your head into the crook of his shoulder. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you even closer, and places a kiss on the top of your head. 

“How was that, Little Bird?” he mumbles into your hair.

You open your mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. There are no words that could do justice to the feeling of pure, unadulterated bliss consuming you. You can feel him smiling against your head as you struggle to speak.

“I don’t think I can ever read my filthy little romance novels again,” you blurt, rather ineloquently.

His chest rumbles with barking laughter, and you can’t help but giggle at the sound.

“Don’t be discouraged,” he grins, “I’m sure we can incorporate your little books into the bedroom in a way that’ll truly leave you speechless.”

You flush at the insinuation, but swiftly reply, “If we’re already planning for next time, then I’d like to be involved in that discussion.”

“Oh?” he muses, “And what is it that you’d like next time, Little Bird?”

You hum in thought, tracing shapes along his abdomen. You peek up at him from his shoulder, and find his eyes already trained on you.

“I could feel you reigning yourself in,” you purr, “Maybe next time you should let go.”

“If I let go then you won’t be walking for a week,” he caresses the dip of your waist.

You nip at his nose teasingly, “I think I’d be perfectly content staying in this bed for a week.”

He takes a steadying breath, and you smirk at the effect you so clearly have over him.

“One day, Little Bird,” he kisses the tip of your nose, “One day I’ll absolutely ruin you.”

You grin and nuzzle your head back into his shoulder, “Sounds like a plan.”

You lay like this, wrapped up in each other’s embrace, for a while. No words are shared, and the only sound filling the room is the crackling of the fireplace. You hope your touch conveys all that you can’t say.

“Thank you,” he whispers after a few beats of silence.

Déjà vu surges over you. You remember the first time you laid beside him—how little, and how much, has changed since then.

You echo his words from that night, “Never thank me.”

You want to say more. You want to tell him everything you feel. You want to open the book of your mind, let him read every single footnote in the story of your life. But there’s so much to say, you wouldn’t even know where to start. So instead, you settle for the words on the very tip of your tongue.

“My brightest star,” you hum, placing a kiss on his ear.

He strokes his thumb along your shoulder, “If I’m the stars, then you’re the moon.”

You smile into his skin, and your eyes flutter shut. Between the comfort of his touch and the whirlwind of a night you’ve had, you find yourself unable to keep exhaustion at bay. 

As you drift from consciousness, there’s no Rhys nagging in the back of your mind. No sister to beg for forgiveness. No dead mother, no cruel father. There’s just Eris.

And for the first time in your life, you feel peace.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Throughout Eris’s long, miserable existence, Pain has been a constant.

It sings in the tortured cries of those who have wronged him. It swims in the eyes of his mother, a shell of the woman she used to be. It bleeds from his skin, with each lash he’s earned from his father.

 It’s Pain that wakes him, yanks him from his fleeting escape from reality.

He hisses at the feeling of silken sheets rubbing against the fresh wounds littered across his back. He moves to push himself up, but pauses at the weight on his chest. When he looks down, Pain vanishes momentarily.

Somehow, you’re even more breathtaking in your sleep. Your cheek is pressed up against his shoulder, arm draped over his stomach. You look so innocent like this, and he wishes the image to forever be imprinted in his memory.

Just as suddenly as it vanished, Pain returns.

He shifts slowly, wincing as he slides out from underneath you. Your head falls against the pillow and your gentle breaths falter, but you don’t stir. Eris grits his teeth as he pushes himself up so he’s seated, his back against the headboard. The cool wood is soothing against his burning skin. He knows that sleep won’t come to him, now that Pain has arrived again. So instead, he indulges himself in you.

Guilt washes over him as he watches how your bare shoulders rise and fall with each breath. He’s selfish for indulging himself in you when he knows he can’t have you. He knows it will have to end soon—before you can fall victim to the tragic fate of Vanserra women.

Eris is just thankful you haven’t realized the shimmering thread of gold tying you to him yet.

He was sure the bond would snap into place for you tonight. Shame pools in his gut as he realizes how badly he wanted it to snap in place for you. In all his selfish desires, there’s nothing he wants more than to call you his. But by some grace of the Mother herself, you’re still blissfully unaware of your mate. 

Since the night of the Equinox, the night when you were wearing that sinful little red number, he’s spent hours on end reading about mating bonds. Much to his disappointment, he’s yet to find anything on how to sever them. But he’s learned two things.

The first is that mating bonds don’t always snap into place for both parties at the same given moment in time. And when they don’t, it’s statistically more likely for males to feel that shining thread of gold first.

The second, and the one that puzzles him right now, is that if the bond doesn’t snap into place immediately, it does when you’ve realized your feelings for your other half, at the peak of your vulnerability. With the…the rawness of how you spoke to him tonight, of how you gave yourself to him entirely, he couldn’t imagine a moment where you could be more vulnerable to the bond’s hold over you.

His fingers ghost over your hair, which looks resembles a halo around your head, as he mulls over the possible explanations. Perhaps the bond is one-sided, and it just won’t snap into place for you. He hasn’t found any literature on this, but if human can be made Fae, then surely nothing is impossible. Alternatively, it’s possible the bond didn’t snap into place because you weren’t wholly vulnerable—because you were holding something back.

 Just as that thought crosses his mind, so does your body shift, exposing a bit of black ink on your side. Eris pauses his stroking movements and his brows cinch together. He doesn’t remember you having a tattoo—and with how many times he’s seen, touched, imagined your naked body, he’d surely remember it. A lump grows in his throat, and against his better judgment, he reaches forward and tugs the sheets down your body.

The cold heart you were just beginning to warm freezes over entirely as he lays eyes on the Night Court insignia inked beside your breast. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, making sure his imagination isn’t playing tricks on him.

But the only one playing tricks is you.

His jaw clenches so tightly that it might break as he brushes over the marking with his thumb. Behind the Illyrian Mountain lies a shining sun—symbolic of the Day Court, he pieces together.

Morrigan’s big, brown eyes. Your ability to appear out of nowhere, as if emerging from the shadows. All the questions about his family, his business dealings. Lurking around the halls of the Forest House. Your penchant for ancient literature unbecoming of a regular merchant’s daughter.

Bile rises in his throat as everything hits him all at once. He snatches his hand away from your body, as if you’re poisonous to the touch. Eris scrambles to the side of the bed and heaves, but nothing comes out. He squints his eyes shut and tugs harshly at the roots of his hair.

He’s a fool. A fool for not realizing it before, for being so entranced by your allure that he didn’t see what was so obviously sitting right in front of him. A fucking fool for thinking that someone could love him, so unequivocally.

You’ve had him wrapped around your finger this whole time—pinpointing his weaknesses and using them to your advantage. You’re no better than he is. No better than Beron. No better than your pathetic gang of friends in Velaris. 

Worst of all, you are the darkness you speak so fondly of. 

Pure, unbridled rage bubbles in the pit of his stomach. Red hot fire surges from his fingertips, and he knows if he doesn’t move away from you he’ll burn the whole house down until only ashes are left.

So, he finds himself back in front of the fireplace, his hands dancing with the flames, with only Pain to keep him company. And as he stares into the burning embers, he decides his next move. If you want to play him like a pawn, then so be it. He’ll just have to take your queen.

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[webslingingslasher]

Care less

for the frat!peter girlies.

Peter blames his aunt. 

May went and raised him to look forward to the middle of february. She would make little boxes and handwritten notes tied up with a fun-sized candy bar. May told him it was a day to celebrate love in its entirety. For a friend, for a teacher, for just the sake of love existing everywhere you went. 

Except, not everyone likes valentine's day. Some even hate it. Some would loathe the day so much that Peter feels like an idiot for caring. Dinner reservations that were going to be ignored, flowers that would go wilted and chocolates that were never going to get eaten. 

Peter has a handful of nothing and the one time he really wanted to outperform himself, it was brushed off and it was his aunt’s fault for getting his hopes up about valentine’s day. He had been so thoughtful too, planning weeks ahead to book a dinner slot and a fun date. Not to mention the mini fortune he spent on roses, not that you were a giant fan of roses but every girl deserves a bouquet on valentine’s, even if they triple in price. Peter even bought a second bunch of your favorite kind, just to prove he cared. 

It meant nothing. His efforts meant nothing and maybe he shouldn’t have assumed, but he never thought that you’d hate the holiday. It was a day entirely built around feelings, around love- and you just rolled your eyes at him. 

“I fucking hate valentine’s day.” You said it like it was nothing, taking two bites of a banana and handing it over to Peter. He asked if you were excited, maybe even hinting at that you should be excited. Peter Parker was about to romance the hell out of you. But not anymore. 

“Explain that one for me?” A toss, the peel falls into the trash can. You shrug as if you’ve never thought about it before, but it’s something you’ve held in your chest for as long as you can remember. 

“It was a holiday created by girls who didn’t feel loved enough by their boyfriends, or something. I think the practice is stupid, you should treat me good and do nice things for me everyday, not just once a year. And everything is crowded! Everyone has the same lame idea about dinner and a movie and flowers and… it’s just not something I buy into.” 

Peter feels every bit of him curl up and die inside. Valentines is his third favorite holiday, he adores the pinks, reds, and purples. He loves seeing couples of every stage, the beginning stages or lifelong partners. They all love the same; with everything in them. 

“Well, actually, I do have a confession. Chocolate covered strawberries. They’re outrageously expensive, but I buy them every year. If you’re wondering, I was hoping we could boycott the baby holiday and eat some strawberries or something.” 

A small lift in his heart, it’s something. You’d be happy with one thing and he could deliver that, but first he has to try and sway you, right? Peter needs to preach what valentine’s is about, he needs you to understand how lovely it is. 

“I’m surprised you hate it so much. I figured you’d love it, since it’s pink and feelings, and stuff.” You wink at him, you think it’s a joke and Peter’s in the same boat as you. “I know, right? It always seemed so gimmicky to me, I think.” 

“That doesn’t mean it’s bad.” You pretend gag, Peter feels his heart sink into the hollow of his chest. “You’re right, it’s cringy and that makes it so much worse.” Peter doesn’t agree, not even in the slightest. Nothing about it is cringy, there’s nothing embarrassing about showing you love someone. 

“Right. It’s cringy and a gimmick and everyone who participates is stupid.” Maybe he’s a little cynical, it hits harder when you nod with exaggeration. “So glad you agree, petey!” He doesn’t. Peter couldn’t be further away from your opinion but he’s really not in the mood to be shut down or judged, so, he just changes the subject and tries to ignore everything crumbling apart in the back of his mind. 

“Isn’t this cute?” 

You squint your eyes when you read the card, a tiny smile shows. “It’s cute. Not worth…” You snatch the glorified cardstock and flip it, your eyes widen, you pretend to choke on the dollar amount. “Ten dollars, holy shit. For some glitter? Fuck that.” 

You want it out of your hold, scared that if even a speckle spread you’d be forced to buy it. “What happened to the good old days of making your own card? My mom used to eat that up.” 

Peter delicately sets the card down, he tries to see it how you do, but he can’t. Sure, it’s wildly marked up, but wouldn’t your partner be worth the price? Peter would buy the moon for you if he could, a ten dollar Hallmark card won’t be his holdup. 

But, maybe you’d like a handmade one more. He can do that. 

Peter’s trying to be mindful of your opinion while also planting the seed that valentine’s isn’t all that bad into your brain. It’s days away and all he can hear in the back of his mind is ‘I fucking hate valentine’s day.’ 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Peter- do you fucking see this?” 

A romantic gesture? A public display of love and admiration? Dozens of carefully inflated heart shaped balloons? A girl crying into the arms of her friend while her partner showers her with flowers. Is it the love? Is that what you’re pointing out? 

“Yeah, it’s-” 

“Disgusting.” 

“-cute.” Peter frowns, is that what you really thought of valentines? Nothing was swaying your mind, Peter thinks that you’re more solidified in your mindset than before. 

“I’m sorry, trouble, but I’m finding it hard believing you hate valentine’s day.” It’s like he just called you a slur, you pull your hand from his and stuff it into your jacket pocket. 

“I don’t hate it, I loathe it. What do you see watching that? Personally, I’m seeing gravel covered flowers and wasted space that turns into deflated balloons. Fuck that.” Peter shakes his head, you’re seeing it wrong. “It’s about the gesture.” 

“It’s about how you love someone so much, there aren't enough things in the world to buy to show it, and there are never the right set of words to say it quite right. I’ll buy all the flowers in the world for you, and I’ll use all the air in my lungs for these balloons but it’ll never match the love I have for you.” 

Peter clears his throat. “That's what I see, anyways. I think valentine’s day is an excuse to be a little cringy and basic because we all want that sometimes.” He might’ve finally broken through, but you crack a grin and bump your shoulder into his. 

“Ah, yes, because I’m so unfulfilled that a man has never gotten me a teddy bear for valentine’s day.” Would you want one? He could get you one. Or could that be a reason you might detest the holiday, not that he’d ever take your opinion for resentment or bitterness. 

“Have you ever had a valentine?” A small stumble, your hand is tied into his again. “Besides elementary, nah. And honestly, I should be happy so I don’t have to deal with all that stuff.” 

‘I should be happy so I don’t have to deal with all that stuff.’ But, now you do, don’t you? 

“Trouble, you do realize you’re my valentine this year, right? And I’m yours?” You feel your breath catch, no, you hadn’t realized. It’s always just been another day for you and you assume the same for Peter, it’s not like there was much to celebrate. 

“It’s also just a day that ends in Y.” Is that really the answer you have? It’s just another day to you, even if you finally have someone to claim? You might not care about the holiday, but Peter does and he’s going to get his valentine’s day, no matter what. 

And you’re going to enjoy a handmade card. 

And a teddy bear. 

Peter’s finger-combing his hair after a shower, he’s had the reservation for weeks, but he also wasn’t aware of your detestment towards red hearts and arrows. 

“Wanna grab some dinner wednesday?” If he didn’t say it by name he’s hoping you won’t scream bloody mary on him. “Sure.” A smile washes over Peter’s face, it drops in a second. “Wait, isn’t that valentine’s day? Ha, yeah, no thank you. You, me, and the entire city? Fuck that.” 

‘Fuck that, fuck that, fuck that.’ Weeks boiled into nothing. “But, if you wanna cuddle and watch a movie I’m down.” It’s something. He’d get to give you flowers and a card and a teddy bear and he can’t forget the strawberries. You told him you loved them. 

“Good with me, trouble.” 

Peter tried to sway your mind, he tried to make you enjoy the love and glitter and colors. But you hated it all. So all he has to do is ditch the flowers and the dinner and just… do nothing. 

Peter’s first real valentine and all he has to do is… nothing. 

Three rose bouquets tossed onto his closet floor, it was haphazardly done. Petals scattered around the cellophane, some even reached to his shoes. They were thrown in without care, they were hidden. 

But they were beautiful. A few front buds have taken a beating, but the others were fully blossomed and lively. You’ve never seen roses in such a vivid red, their petals almost like velvet under your fingertips, their smell unlike any other. 

The thorns have been expertly shredded, nothing but smooth, soft stems in their wake. It doesn’t matter if Peter didn’t mean to have you see them, they were too gorgeous to leave locked away in a dark room. They deserved the affection water and sunlight would give them. 

You clutched all three in your arms, the weight welcomed. You laid them out nicely across his bed, the third bouquet dropped a small card and you picked it right back up. 

‘Trouble- 

This day was made for you. 

Charlie’s at 8. 

Yours, 

Peter’

You bit back a smile. Charlie’s? It’s nice, too nice. And expensive. Peter got you reservations at Charlie’s? Holding the card to your chest you nearly squeal, you have no idea how he kept the secret from you. Or the roses. 

When you hear his bedroom door open you spin, waiting for him to be in the doorway so you can place a thousand kisses. Instead it’s Ethan and he looks surprised. “You’re here?” He points to the flowers, “Peter gave you those?” 

“I found them in his closet, he just tossed them in here! And he must’ve forgotten to tell me about Charlie’s.” Ethan doesn’t smile with you, he’s not sharing any joy. For a second you start to wonder if you were the person who was supposed to receive the gifts. 

“He didn’t forget.” You scrunch your face at him, “I think he did and I need to start getting ready now. Ethan, do you know how nice Charlie’s is? It’s fucking fancy.” You’re not prepared, you don’t have anything that screams Charlie’s worthy in Peter’s closet. 

“No, you’re not hearing me. There is no Charlie’s and there weren't supposed to be roses. I was supposed to get them before you got here, but, here we are. No roses and no Charlie’s.” You smack at his arms, pulling at his fingers to drop your flowers. 

“They’re mine!” Ethan’s on a mission to steal them, and he’s not being gentle. 

“No, you didn’t want them.” 

You watch him for a second, how could he say that, of course you want them. Thirty six reminders of Peter, how could you ever say no? You fight for what's yours, Ethan allows you to keep one bouquet. 

“I do want them!” 

Ethan’s not being nice to you tonight, he’s gruff with his response. “No. You didn’t.’ 

“You keep saying didn’t! I never said I didn’t want…” 

Except you did. Just like you said you didn’t want to get dinner with Peter. You feel terrible, you feel like crying. He’d had this planned for weeks and the whole time all you did was poke fun and degrade the holiday not knowing you were crushing him behind the scenes. 

You wanted the flowers, but you didn’t deserve them. You hand over the last bouquet silently. 

“I think it’s best if you pretend you didn’t see these.” You can’t imagine the ache Peter must have in his chest, he planned something out just for you to stomp all over it. It’s not about the value, it was the gesture. He can’t tell you how he feels, but taking you out to one of the nicest places in the city, where you know it has a month minimum reservation list makes you understand him just a little bit better. 

“This is so bad, Ethan. This is so,” you suck in air, “so bad.” 

“It’s not terrible,” a crinkle when he shifts weight. “But it’s not great.” You wince, if you could, you’d go back in time and shove your foot in your mouth, or tell yourself to shut the fuck up. 

“Well, I mean, what the fuck?! It’s fucking Peter! How was I supposed to know he was pro valentines day?”

“How was he supposed to know you were anti valentines day?” 

You sink to the bed and hold your head in your hands, “I just want Peter right now.” You want to hug him and kiss him and tell him how sorry you were. Ethan hesitates for a second, before stepping closer to lay the flowers across your lap. 

“You found them. They’re yours.” You protect them from being taken, but still have self-pity. “I don’t deserve them.” Ethan scoffs, “of course you do. Everyone deserves pretty flowers.” 

You pout at yourself in the mirror and fix any smudges. Brushing out any stray wrinkles your newest dress might’ve made on the way over. Ethan had very kindly instructed a pledge to pick you up an outfit so you could change before Peter got back. 

With minutes to spare, he’s back and taking a deep breath at your appearance. “Wow.” A surprised hum when you kiss him, you wipe red from his bottom lip while you apologize. “I’m so sorry, petey.” 

“For what?” A look around the room, red roses give him the reason. “Oh. Hey, it’s no big deal and I-” A frown when you silence him by holding a finger to his lips. 

“I’m sorry. I found those flowers and all I could think about was you and how much it meant to me that you got those for me, then I saw the card and I couldn’t believe you got us reservations and I just felt… special. I’ve never had a valentine, but I get it now. It’s just a day you get to dote on me extra hard.” 

Another surprise kiss, “and if you didn’t already cancel I think we can get to Charlie’s on time. But if you did, that’s okay. Because I think those are the most lovely flowers I have ever gotten, and I might have seen a little teddy bear in there but I didn’t wanna get too presumptuous.” 

This time, Peter kissed you. “There’s also a homemade card.” 

“You didn’t!” You fall in closer to his chest, his hands can have free reign tonight, you wore the dress just for him. 

“I did. I even wrote a little poem.” 

A chaste kiss, “just when I think you can’t get better.” 

“There’s also glow in the dark mini golf planned for after.” A peck, “so thoughtful and handsome.”

A whisper, he’s got blown pupils and hoping he’d get another kiss. “And your strawberries are in the fridge.” 

Your hearts about to explode, “fuck, I love-” you stop yourself, but you heard it and so did Peter. He brushes it off, “love?” Fuck it, you’ll both keep circling around it. 

“Yeah, I love love.” 

A hungry kiss, a squeeze to the back of your thighs. “Yeah, I love love, too.” 

[gemissleeping]

Sea Foam | Chapter Three

Theodore Nott x Siren!Reader

Read the other Chapters here.

Summary: It’s been three weeks since Theo found you by the Black Lake, and he’s tried his best to respect your wishes. But it hasn’t done anything to help either of you, and all of your efforts come crashing down in the bathroom at a Slytherin party.

Length: 2.1k

Notes: More of a Theo POV than the usual. Angry Theo. Teenage boys being teenage boys (foul and icky, nsfw language). Overbearing best friend Blaise. Smoking Theo. Slightly intoxicated reader. Soft Theo. Tears. I did not proofread this at all you have been warned, pls do tell me if there are any errors. Listen to Cinnamon Girl by Lana if you’d like to go through it. ily enjoy!

“You’re staring again,” Blaise grumbled under his breath from beside Theo in Divination. It had been three weeks since Theo had found you on the shoreline. Dressed only in your nightgown in the height of the winter frost. That crestfallen look on your face while the wind had bitten at you both. He’d tried his best to respect your wishes since then; making sure to steer clear of you whenever he could, to stop flitting through your mind like it was his favourite novel. He’d tried his best and still he’d failed, over and over.

He knew it was wrong, but he was beyond help. Slipping into your mind was unbearably easy. So much so, that he’d found himself doing it purely by accident on a few occasions, and he couldn’t quite figure out why. He knew you could practice occlumency, had even witnessed you obliterate Malfoy’s attempt at invading your mind in a Defence Against the Dark Arts class last year. Yet you barely even seemed to notice when he did it. Your apparent lack of awareness only made it harder for Theo to stop himself.

“Sorry,” Theo mumbled, blinking his trance away as he glanced over to Blaise with a dull apology. Blaise and Theo had become fast friends in First Year. After Cormack had made a comment about Theo’s Mother on the train, and Blaise had responded by hitting him right between the eyes. Blaise and Theo were close. Though not as close as you, Milli and Blaise were. Everyone knew that the three of you were utterly inseparable. Having met long before the rest of them at Hogwarts.

Unfortunately, it also meant that Blaise had adopted a tendency towards being irritatingly over-protective of you. Likely for good reason; Theo hadn’t made the best of impressions when it came to his relationships with women. They were often fleeting, borne of convenience and nothing more.

Which was exactly why Blaise was currently pissed with him. Blaise spent an awful lot of his time watching people. Regrettably, for Theo that included him, and these days he spent most of his time firmly stuck on you. To say Blaise wasn’t pleased would have been an understatement.

At this point, he may as well have been your damn guard dog, and Theo was tiring of the act quickly. He’d spent years wanting to know you, outside of the occasional class project. Years of pretending you didn’t exist for Blaise’s sake. When really, you were a large part of the reason that he had never settled on anyone to begin with.

Theo turned back to his parchment, huffing as he saw the ink stain leaking across the page. That, along with several half-finished notes, provided rather damning evidence of his distraction.

He stole a glance over at you again, keeping his head low in the hopes Blaise wouldn’t catch him. You were sitting beneath the window, stuck in a daydream of your own as Trelawney prattled on. Eyes misted over, one hand woven through your hair as you rested on it.

You were lovely.

Theo wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had resumed his staring. But as Trelawney brought the lesson to a close, the dull edge of a textbook collided with the side of his head in a singular, harsh thud. Breaking his focus on you as he looked up in bewilderment to Blaise, who stood with his edition of Astrology for the Ungifted raised.

“Git.” He hissed, lowering the book with scathing eyes.

Theo didn’t see you for the rest of the afternoon, not with Blaise practically escorting him to their dorm as soon as Divination concluded. Enzo was already there, lazily slung across his desk chair. Brow raised as Blaise entered in a huff, Theo trailing behind him in defeat. There was supposed to be a party in the Common Room tonight. But right now it wasn’t looking like Theo would be in for a particularly enjoyable evening.

“I know what you’re trying to do. You want to fuck her.”

“I don’t want to fuck her,” Theo winced at his friend’s choice of words.

“You don’t want to fuck her? You don’t want to fuck her?” Blaise rounded, textbook jabbing at Theo’s chest incredulously. Theo groaned, knowing Blaise wouldn’t rest until he knew Theo was being honest with him.

“No, I- fuck, fine. Yes, I want to. Of course I do, but that’s not-”

“Not what? Forgive me for my utter faith in your fucking abysmal track record. But she is my best fucking friend Theo.” Blaise snapped, turning from the boy’s dead-eyed stare and viciously tugging at his tie as he stalked towards his bed. Whipping it from his neck in a surge of anger.

Enzo rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. Watching the display unfold with anxious eyes as Matt cracked the bathroom door open, lighting up with sadistic intrigue. The pair exchanged a glance, the former silently begging the latter not to stick his foot in.

Theo felt his chest tighten at Blaise’s words. His hand running roughly along his jaw, trying to soothe his irritation. Gazing at the ornate wooden panels on the ceiling with a sigh before he attempted to break through to him again. It was out in the open now at least, it likely couldn’t get worse.

“You don’t understand, she-”

“Please, Nott. Tell me what I don’t understand about the girl I’ve known since she was three years old.” Blaise bellowed, reigniting as he swung back to the taller boy. The click of the door interrupted them.

“What’s with all the shouting? I can hear you fools from the hall,” Malfoy droned, bored as he kicked the door shut behind him. Flicking his wand to cast some sort of muffling charm across it.

“Fuck off, Malfoy.” Blaise sneered, not even glancing over to acknowledge his friend’s arrival. The words feeling far more aimed towards Theo than the blonde. Draco only sighed, moving past the both of them.

“None of you ever thank me for anything that I do for you,” He grumbled in response. Throwing a stack of books onto his bed before going to shove Matt out of the bathroom.

“If you even think about fucking touching her-” Blaise continued, steam practically rising from his skin as he narrowed in on Theo again.

“Oh, he has.” Matt interrupted, leaning back against Enzo’s desk with folded arms. Theo shooting him a heavy glare as Matt only smirked back knowingly. An expression Enzo swiftly answered by scolding him with a kick to the shin.

“Look at me, Nott,” Blaise demanded. His voice low, lip curling back in a sneer, “I’ll skin you, understand?”

“Listen, I-” Theo started, his own voice rising as his attention shifted back to Blaise, irritation swelling. But he was impossible to reason with when he was like this, everyone knew it.

“You don’t fuck with her,” Blaise cut in, his voice soaked with finality. Standing before Theo while his chest heaved with anger, book still clutched in his accusatory palm. Theo could feel his own restraint unwrapping. The other’s eyes on them only pushing him further into that corner of himself. He needed air, now. Or else he was going to do something he couldn’t undo. Then you were certain to never speak to him again.

Hands raised in silent surrender, he backed away from Blaise. Jaw set as he plucked his jacket from the end of his bed, turning for the door. Enzo’s tired sigh leaked through the dorm as he pulled it open harshly, likely readying himself to chastise Blaise. Something he’d also likely do to Theo when he caught him later. Though if he had any luck today, maybe Enzo and the others would already be drunk by the time he got back.

He made for the edge of the forest. Rolling a cigarette as he went, trying not to bite down on the filter between his teeth from residual disdain. The icy air was a small mercy, quenching the heat running through him almost immediately. For hours he stood out there, letting the smoke in to empty out all of the things he didn’t want to feel. Watching as the moon chased the sun down to the horizon.

The party would be well underway. God willing you hopefully had yourself tangled in someone else by now. At least then Theo might have been able to give himself a proper reason to stop, smooth things over with Blaise. Though he had begun to doubt if even that would work.

Theo made his way through the tangle of writhing bodies in the heat of the Common Room. No desire to taint himself further with the desperate need to forget that rolled off of the sweaty air. Matt was by the stairs, where the crowd thinned out at its edges. More enticed by the girl whose cigarette he was lighting than by any questions he might’ve had for Theo, as he continued his path to the dorms.

He had meant to go straight there. To take off his jacket, untie his shoelaces. Instead he found himself headed past his door, down to one of the communal bathrooms that lined the dormitory halls. He wasn’t sure why, until something tugged at him. Drawing him to push open the bathroom door; and there you were.

Gaze flitting to his hazily in the mirror. Eyeliner smudged, haloing your eyes. You stilled where you had been standing, as if he had walked straight out of your thoughts. Softening as you took in his wind kissed hair, and he the tremble of your fingers on the countertop. Theo pushed himself away, against the pull of his chest, away from what he wanted. He made for the door again, unsure of why he had allowed himself to be led to you to begin with.

“You weren’t at Dinner,” you called softly, not daring to turn and look at him without a reflection between you. He stilled, one hand on the door as his heart hammered at his ribs.

“You told me to stay away,” he answered simply. Afraid to turn around in case what he saw laying in your eyes only salted the wound some more.

“Not that far.”

You breathed, turning to face him. Eyes aching to touch his cheek, graze across his thoughts, his desires. Theo’s hand dropped from the door, chest swelling from your proclamation. He could feel his breathing falter, hear the force of it. He turned hesitantly, a rasp collecting in his throat.

“Well how far would you like me?”

He saw your breath hitch, didn’t even have to scratch at your mind. You seemed to be leaking into his on your own accord. He could hear just how far you wanted him, and it wasn’t far at all.

Your lips parted, so he made sure to be the first to speak. To save you both the trouble.

“You’re drunk.”

You shook your head, eyes growing glassy with the salt of tears as you moved towards where he leant against the door.

“I’ve been getting your little messages. The ones you keep leaving for me to find,” he murmured. Suddenly enraptured by his hands as his voice creased over his words.

“Theo-”

“It’s unbearable for me. Is it like that for you too?” He cracked, eyes flashing up to yours. Entirely afraid before you, before the possible weight of your answer. Because the truth was he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t tell which words were real and which you fed him to keep him at arm’s length. He searched you, begging for any kind of answer, but hoping only for one.

“Yes.”

Your tears spilled in an instant, and maybe you were a little drunk, but you were also sure that it didn’t change any of it. He knew as much, taking a tender step towards you to grasp your cheek. Running his thumb along the soft skin to collect your tears.

“This trance you seem to think I’m under,” Theo clarified, eyes lingering on yours as his thumb continued its path. Despite no longer having any need to do so. “It’s lasted five years already,” he breathed, “it’s not going to pass any time soon.”

You paused, smudged eyes widening as you gazed up at him. His confession sucking the air out of your lungs until you could no longer doubt that you needed him. You simply watched him for a moment, as though debating whether to say something you wouldn’t be able to swallow. The one thing that was still holding you back.

“I don’t know how to stop myself.”

“Then don’t,” he whispered, leaning closer to brush a strand of hair from your eyes. “You don’t need to be scared of wanting this.”

Theo drew back slightly, letting his fingertips linger. Brushing through the strands of your hair, behind your ear. His voice gentle, certain, “I’ll be here, whenever you’re ready.”

Keep an eye out for Chapter Four here, or comment to be added to the tag list for future updates <3

Taglist: @hemlockmuncher @hoeforvinniehackerrr @moonlightttfae @thecraziestcrayon @itssomeonereading @leona-hawthorne @liaaanie @not-so-bad-ass @wildestdreamslover @slytherinboysappreciation @nat1221 @melllinaa @aykxz98 @chgrch if i missed anyone please let me know!

[deanstead]

Low Effort

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: no

Summary: Y/N gets a surprise visit, which triggers some unpleasant symptoms

Word Count: 1k+

Tags/Warnings: mentions of stomach cramps, slight allusion to anxiety, negative emotions

A/N: Long time no see! This is a thing I needed to get off my chest and needed to get the emotions out, so it’s just some Jay comfort/fluff. Also, a warning that I haven’t written in so long, this kind of feels a bit meh, so I hope I haven’t lost too much of my writing touch LOL

JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST

You closed your laptop shut, just as your phone lit up with a notification about a new message from Jay.

Sorry, got held up. 10 minutes. Tops.

You smiled, typing a quick response of acknowledgment to tell him not to hurry before you got up, grabbing your bag. You were too fried to continue anything else so you figured you would just go and wait for him. Fresh air was better than whatever was coming through the office vents.

As the glass doors of the main entrance on the first floor slid open and you felt the chill of the Chicago winds hit your face, you sighed. Fresh air was definitely better.

“Y/N.”

You glanced up, your eyebrows naturally bunching together at the sound of a woman’s voice.

As your eyes met hers, you froze for a moment, your brain still processing the fact that she was here.

“Amy?” Her name slipped past your lips before you could stop yourself, even though the only emotion you were feeling at this moment was surprise. There was nothing positive or negative about it.

Amy could feel it in your voice as well. “Can we talk? I’ve missed you.”

You frowned as a cramp shot through your lower abdomen.

“I thought we were better friends than this. Low-maintenance, remember?” Amy said, and you could hear the tone in her voice, the one she used when she was upset or disappointed.

The feeling of indignation shot through you once again.

“Yeah, low maintenance, not low effort.”

Your voice was low but you didn’t let the emotion sway it. You spent years telling yourself that it was just a low-maintenance friendship, that you were both just busy, but you couldn’t ignore the way she’d reappear in front of you only when she needed your support, or when the guy she was seeing was out of town.

You glanced up at the street but hadn’t seen Jay’s car yet.

You exhaled. “Look, Amy. You have your priorities, I get it. Just don’t expect me to drop mine when you blow back into town or when your boyfriend doesn’t have time for you. It doesn’t work that way.”

You felt the cramps intensify and knew what it was. You called it “emotional cramps” with Jay, joking that as long as he kept you happy you’d be fine. Yet, here they were again. Maybe it was because you hadn’t had them in a while, you felt them more intensely now.

You put a hand on your stomach as you looked up at Amy. As expected, she had an indignant look on her face.

“How could you say that, Y/N? I know the fact that I was seeing Trevor was a sore spot with you because you weren’t seeing anyone so I didn’t want to make things harder for you. But now…”

You couldn't even respond as the pain ripped through you once again and you bent forward slightly, your knees buckling a little. You braced yourself for the impact of your knees hitting the concrete sidewalk when you felt his arms around you.

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

Jay.

Amy seemed stunned for a moment before she spoke again, “It must be her…”

“Why’s it acting up?” Jay asked, his entire focus on you as you glanced up at him and quietly shook your head.

Jay glanced up at Amy. They didn’t know each other since you’d met Jay sometime after contact between you and Amy had dwindled to almost nothing. By the time you and Jay had started dating, you’d made up your mind to let go of Amy and this friendship, and it had merely nagged at you a little at the back of your mind from time to time so you hadn’t brought her up.

“Come on, we’re going to Med,” Jay said quietly, pulling you upright.

You glanced at him. “Don’t you dare carry me,” You warned.

Despite the worried look in his eyes, Jay smiled. “We’re going to Will.” He repeated, almost like he was daring you to argue.

You didn’t argue. Partly because all you wanted to do was get out of there but partly because you knew it was useless. Besides, the pain was more intense than you remembered.

Without a second glance back, Jay helped you into the car and drove off, both of you leaving Amy still standing on the sidewalk.

You knew what had triggered the attack, so after getting medication for the pain and cramping, you’d been feeling much better.

“You know I’d be feeling even better if you would stop hovering, Detective.” You said, directing the comment at your boyfriend.

Will smiled as he tapped on the iPad in his hand and glanced at his brother. “She’s fine. Her tests are normal, and it was probably just a one-off stress-related attack.”

You nodded. “I’ll follow up with my therapist, I promise.”

Will ruffled your hair affectionately and you growled because he knew you hated it.

“I’ll get the discharge started.”

Jay was quiet as he leaned over you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, before you glanced back down.

“Amy’s an old friend.” You said, after a while. "At least, she was."

Jay didn’t say anything, so you continued, telling him about how Amy was when she started dating anyone, and it only progressively got worse. “And it’s not about seeing her often, you know? It’s just…”

Jay nodded. “You didn’t feel like she cared.”

You sighed quietly. “I just… it got to a point where I realized she didn’t care. I was a friend when she needed me, and when she didn’t, I just… didn’t exist. And apparently, to her, that’s me being sore.”

Jay just took your hand in his, gently stroking your fingers.

“But I just realized it was better to have no one than to be treated that way, so I just…”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Jay said quietly. “Listen, someone who gives you low effort doesn’t deserve you. I don’t care who they are. Anyone who makes you feel this way doesn’t deserve even one percent of you.”

You looked up at him and smiled, a little sadness hidden behind it.

“I guess seeing her today just brought it all back, you know? And then it triggered all those emotions and then my stomach cramps decided to join the party.” You made a face.

Jay smiled quietly back at you. “But you know what? You’re not alone. At least not anymore.”

You smiled and leaned forward for a hug. Jay perched by the edge of the bed, pulling you gently into his arms and you buried your face into his shoulders, feeling his arms encircle your entire body.

“I know.” You whispered.

Jay kissed the top of your head. “Good.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!

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[waldau]

hii i would like to request a fake dating scoups x reader au where the reader falls first but coups falls harder <3 thank u!

here you go anon, hope you like this :)

reset — choi seungcheol | 2,008 words | fluff, hurt/comfort

cheol brainrot go brrrr

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

technically speaking, the party’s going fine.

despite how much you want to hate it, it’s going the way parties do. there’s music, there’s alcohol, there’s your own corner if you want to tune out the sound of everything else, and there’s seungcheol’s friends. he’s spent at least half an hour introducing you to everyone — you’ve met a lot of them before, but there’s still some new ones. there’s always new ones.

and even though they’ve been nothing but polite to you, engaging you in conversation and making an effort to learn more about you, you can’t shake off the feeling that this isn’t really where you’re supposed to be.

you don’t know who you were kidding when you agreed to be his fake date for the party. he’s already had a ton of people hanging onto him throughout the course of the night. you’re not sure why he even bothered asking you. he could have asked his manager to find someone that would actually match with him, and maybe create a big splash if it made it to the news.

instead, he’d asked you out.

it won’t make a difference in the news, anyway, he’d said, like he wasn’t aware of the way he shattered your heart with those words. like it was common knowledge that nobody could even imagine the two of you together. like it wasn’t worth anyone’s time or imagination, most of all his.

suddenly, you find the sounds in the room too loud to bear. it’s not the first party you’ve been to, but it’s the first one where you’ve felt truly alone. you’re glad you haven’t touched your drink yet.

no one’s really paying attention to you exclusively, and you’re okay with nodding along and throwing in an occasional response here and there. but then it’s not okay, anymore. you shouldn’t have to be here in the first place, on this stupid fake date you agreed to because of your little crush on seungcheol.

okay, maybe it’s not just a little crush. but the point is that you shouldn’t have to be here hurting your feelings in order to spend a little time with him.

you excuse yourself under the pretense of having to take a call and head towards the balcony. joshua, one of seungcheol’s closest friends, comes up to ask you if everything’s okay. you’ve been friends with him for long enough that he can tell when you're fine and when you're not, but you give him a look that hopefully conveys you want him to let this slide.

“seungcheol mentioned this isn’t really your thing, so let him know if you want to go home. i know he’ll be okay with that.”

you nod wordlessly, words of gratitude stuck in your throat. what seungcheol tells you is true — joshua is just too damn perceptive.

you feel like you can finally take a better breath when the door shuts behind you, separating you from everyone else. the cold air makes you feel better, even if it’s beginning to seep into your skin because of the outfit you’ve worn.

it doesn’t matter, though. you need a bit of a reset.

somehow, it hardly takes four minutes before you feel someone behind you. and it’s not just anyone.

“do you have a death wish or something?”

you choose not to grace him with an answer.

“hey,” seungcheol prompts when you don’t reply. “what’s up?”

“shouldn’t i be asking you that?”

seungcheol steps to your side and looks at you. even though you’re gazing down at the empty road sparsely dotted with streetlights, you can feel his gaze pierce you.

“do you want to go home?” he asks softly.

it hurts. he shouldn’t be this considerate to you and then not like you back. it can't just be one without the other.

“i don’t know, do you?”

he sighs. “okay. i don’t know what i’ve done wrong, but i can tell you’re not comfortable right now. are you done for tonight?”

you shake your head. “i don’t want you to leave because of me. it seemed like you were having fun back there.”

“and you weren’t,” he replies, reading between the lines.

“it doesn’t matter, okay? it’s not your fault i’m not having fun.”

“that’s not how this works,” seungcheol stresses, stepping forward to grip your arms and recoiling a bit. “you’re cold.”

you shrug. another thing that’s not gone well today.

seungcheol takes off his jacket and hands it to you without any hesitation, but you don’t take it. you can’t keep living in your little daydream, living on moments where you think he might love you just a bit more than he would a friend. one of you needs to break the cycle, and if it’s going to be you, you’re prepared.

“seriously, what is wrong with you?” he asks, soft but sharp. you finally look him in the eyes. he has that gaze — the one where it looks like he knows exactly what you’re thinking about. it scares you sometimes, the way he’s so accurate. he must have picked up something from joshua over the years.

“nothing’s wrong with me, cheol,” you say, slightly bitter. “just because i don’t want your jacket doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world.”

"you're right, i'm sorry," he says, taking a step closer to you. "i shouldn't have said it like that. but...it's not just about the jacket. at first i thought i caught you on an off day, but you seemed fine till we got here. i don’t know what happened after that. are you hungry? did someone say something to you? do you need me to punch anyone?”

you give him an exasperated look. “you’d punch someone if i asked?”

“in a heartbeat. i thought you knew that by now.”

“and if i was wrong?”

“you’re never wrong when it comes to things like these. and i’d forgive you even if you were.”

"you're too trusting, you know that?"

"well," seungcheol says, lowering the jacket. but it's still in front of you, still on offer. "you're my best friend. i think you have some privilege."

you hate the earnestness in his voice as much as you love it. “i know. sorry.”

“don’t apologize, sweetheart. tell me what’s wrong, and tell me how i can fix it. i’ll do anything.”

“it’s…nothing you can do,” you say, turning away from him. it's most definitely not in his control, but it’s not your fault for loving him, either.

“how will you know if you don’t try?”

“you just know some things, cheol. trust me on that.”

“yeah? like i know you’re hiding something from me right now? something that’s eating my best friend up, and i don’t even know what to do to help?”

again. those two words. they tear you up from the inside just as much as they hold you together. you can’t help the sharp feeling in your throat which indicates tears might be on the way. you're just frustrated at the unfairness of it all. if only life was a little kinder.

seungcheol, ever perceptive, notices immediately. “sweetheart? it’s something i did, isn’t it? something i said?”

you shake your head, not wanting tears to well up.

“don’t lie to me,” he says, draping the jacket over your shoulders and pulling you into his embrace. you push him away, even though you whole body wants nothing more than to be with him.

“please tell me?”

you take in a breath, the cold night air stinging your nose. “you said something.”

“what was it?”

“you said it wouldn’t make a…difference, if i was your date,” you say, focusing so much on not crying that your voice is barely audible to your own ears. “you said it like no one would care if we were together. like it wouldn’t affect you in any way. like i’m just…your best friend. and no one can see me as anything more.”

seungcheol sucks in a sharp breath. “can i hold you? please?”

you almost refuse, but decide otherwise. you’ve spilled out your mind to him, anyway. the least you deserve is a hug from him.

“i’m so fucking sorry,” he breathes into your hair, his arms looped around your waist and holding you close to him. “i didn’t— i’d never say something like that. that’s not what i meant when i said it.”

“then what did you,” mean, you mean to ask, but your breath gets swept away when he presses a kiss to your head.

“it’s just…everyone knows how close we are,” he says, hand gently running up and down your back. “i thought people wouldn’t bat an eye if they assumed we were dating, you know. i know people who already think we are. or…that we should.”

you look up at him at that. he looks serious about what he’s saying, but also shy, like he doesn’t want you looking at him when he’s speaking.

“people?”

“some of my close friends.”

that's news to you. “so you don’t mind…people thinking we’re a thing? or thinking we should be?”

“of course not,” he says, holding you with one hand and tracing your cheekbone with the other. you fall for him just a bit more, right there. “anyone would be lucky to have you. i’d be the luckiest guy to have you.”

he just says things like that, and it makes you wonder if he really means them. so you decide to push him this time, and see where it goes. and blame it on your nerves and the drink you never had if things don’t go well. “would you?”

“want to have you?”

you nod, breath trapped in your throat.

“yeah,” he breathes out, leaning forward and tucking his chin in your shoulder.

you swear your world stops for just a second. you’re hardly even aware that he’s leaning on you now.

"yeah as in?"

“i’d like you to take you out for a real date. if you’ll let me.”

you pull away to look at seungcheol. he’s blushing, but he’s not looking away.

"if i'll let him, he says."

"well?" seungcheol lifts a hand to fix your hair.

“this isn’t a joke?”

he steps back and rubs his face, probably in an attempt to brace himself for whatever he wants to say. it doesn’t work. you like him like this, you think. with his hair messy and his eyes shy.

“of course not. i’d never joke about something like this. especially when it’s you.”

you should be the one who's shy and blushing, and yet there's nowhere else you'd rather look. “what made you…”

seungcheol takes your hands. they're a warm contrast to your cold ones. “i’ve been wrestling with it for a while, and i never told you because i didn’t want things between us to be weird. but i couldn’t keep faking it after i saw you tonight. you look so good, it’s been killing me.”

you shake him off to loop your arms around his neck and pull him down to you, feeling a bit braver. “so if i told you i wanted to leave right now…”

he swallows loud enough for you to hear. “we’d be out of here right now.”

you stand on your tiptoes to bring yourself to his height and place a little kiss on his nose.

he pouts. “that’s it? that’s all i get after confessing to you?”

“i don’t want our first kiss to be in front of an audience, cheol.”

seungcheol smiles. “fair. but i don’t know how much longer i can wait now.”

“you’re going to have to ask me out for real, you know.”

“but you haven’t told me you like me back yet,” seungcheol says. you can hear the whine in his voice and it makes you laugh a bit.

“you need to hear me say it?”

“of course i do! i've spent weeks thinking about tonight.”

“aren't you lucky, then?" you tease.

“the luckiest,” he says solemnly.

it's your turn to blush now.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi

[davinawritings]

Hello, hope you're doing well! I would like to request but I'm tired of submissive reader concept.

So can you please write about a fem chubby fem dom reader that's a dragon with a shy boy (You can decide the species hihi) 🥺

Hi! Thank you so much for the request! I hope you like it!

Pairing: Fem Dragon Shifter Reader x Male Bunny Hybrid

Warnings: Oral Sex, Predator vs Prey, Cumming Untouched, Kidnapping

When you went for your morning flight earlier today you were lucky enough to spot a bunny hybrid. You swooped down and picked him up in one of your claws before flying back to your cave. When you entered the main area you spent most of your time in, you released your claw to set him free.

He immediately tried to run so you just snatched him back up and brought him closer to your face so you could get a good look at him. He had a panicked look on his face but you could still see how handsome he was. Usually this would be the part where you tore him to pieces and had him as a little snack but looking at his cute and scared face, you realized you desired more from him than a quick snack.

Trying to put him slightly more at ease you say, “stop struggling little bunny. I am not going to hurt you.”. He looks at you warily as if still afraid you are going to devour him whole. When you make no move to sink your razor sharp teeth into him, he calms and you place him back on his feet. Wanting him to know you really don’t plan on killing him, you shift into a slightly more human form. Though parts of your body are still covered in scales and you still have razor sharp canines, it is less imposing than your natural dragon form.

Even shifted to a more human state you still tower over him and you watch with a smirk as you see his cock start to harden while he looks over your body. “What is your name bunny?”, you ask and he immediately blushed upon noticing he was caught staring at you.

“It’s … my na-name is Ben”, he manages to stutter out. “Cute. Benny the bunny. Absolutely adorable. And do you like looking at me Benny?”, you say watching as he immediately shakes his head, his eyes still trained on the ground. You give a little laugh and say, “ it’s not nice to lie Bunny. Your cock surely isn’t lying.”.

Ben immediately starts to apologize but you stop him and say, “ it’s ok Benny. You can look. I don’t mind.”. He hesitates before raising his eyes back to your body. You watch as his eyes trail up from your long legs and thick thighs, to your puffy pussy that is already dripping with arousal. He lets out an involuntary moan at the sight before trailing his eyes further up. His eyes trail over your soft stomach and you watch as his hands flex like he wants to reach out and touch you.

His eyes then rest on your tits and you bring your own hands up to give them a squeeze. He whimpers and a small shot of precum drips from his cock and onto the floor causing you to laugh. Your laughter only causes his cock to twitch again and he looks away embarrassed.

“Would you like a taste little bunny?, you ask and he nods his head excitedly. You beckon him closer and say, “on your knees then”. He obeys immediately and without hesitating he buries his face in your pussy. He licks up your slit like he’s been stranded in the desert and you are his oasis. He focuses on licking inside your cunt while his little bunny nose keeps nudging your clit. You moan at the feeling. It’s been so long since you had a companion and you had no plans in letting him go.

He removes one of his hands from your thigh to reach down and stroke his needy cock. You don’t take your eyes off of him as you say, “Both hands on me Benny. I am the only one that gets to touch your cock anymore. It is mine to do with as I please”. He whimpers but obeys, doubling his efforts on your pussy, wanting to make you cum and see stars.

You are almost there, dangling off the precipice of pure ecstasy. You reach down and pull on his floppy bunny ears to push him harder into your dripping cunt, not realizing how sensitive his ears are. His eyes shoot up to yours at the harsh tug of his ears and his hands dig into your soft flesh, his nails scratching some of your scales. His hips jerk repeatedly into the air and he lets out a mixture of whimpers and moans as his cum shouts out of him, landing on your legs as well as the floor.

Watching him cum with his cock being completely untouched in combination with his moans creating the perfect vibrations, launches you into a massive orgasm. Your back arches as you squirt all over his face, neck, and chest. As you come down from your orgasm and catch your breath he is still giving small licks to your clit, thrusting his hips back and forth into nothing but air as the last few drops of cum drip from his dick. His cock is still hard and begging for attention. The untouched orgasm not giving any true relief to his poor bunny cock.

“My perfect bunny, cumming just from a tug on his ears. Just wait until I get your cock in my pussy. I’m going to make you cum over and over until you run dry.”.

He moans at your words and replies, “Please. I’ll do anything you want. Just please touch me”. You give a smile at his eagerness to be your good bunny, knowing how much you are going to enjoy taking care of him.

❤️💕🖤🖤💕❤️

[writeriguess]

Five Hargreeves x female reader fic where he has a crush on her and tries to win her over.

Five Hargreeves was a genius, a time traveler, and a survivor of the apocalypse. He was also, despite his best efforts to ignore it, hopelessly infatuated with you.

You were a part of the Umbrella Academy, brought in by their eccentric father to fill in the gaps. With your sharp mind and ability to manipulate probability, you were a force to be reckoned with. But it wasn’t just your powers that caught Five’s attention; it was your wit, your laugh, the way you never backed down from a challenge—even from him.

At first, Five tried to brush it off as a fleeting attraction, something trivial in the grand scheme of things. He had more important matters to focus on: saving the world, for instance. But the more time he spent around you, the harder it became to deny his feelings. The way your eyes sparkled when you talked about something you were passionate about, the way you handled every situation with a calmness that contrasted with his intensity—it was all too much for him to ignore.

But Five was nothing if not stubborn. He wasn’t going to sit around and pine like some lovesick teenager. No, if he wanted something, he was going to get it. And right now, he wanted you.

The first step was figuring out how to approach you. Five wasn’t exactly known for his charm; he was more likely to correct someone’s grammar than to flirt. But for you, he was willing to try.

He started small. Offering to help you with missions, even if he didn’t need to be there. Bringing you coffee in the mornings, just the way you liked it. You’d raise an eyebrow at him, suspicious but amused, and he’d shrug it off with a nonchalant comment.

“Just thought you could use it,” he’d say, trying to hide the nervous edge in his voice.

You’d smile, thank him, and go back to whatever you were doing. But Five noticed the way your gaze lingered on him a little longer, the way your expression softened ever so slightly. It was enough to make him think that maybe, just maybe, you were starting to notice him too.

The next phase of his plan involved more direct efforts. He asked you to join him for lunch, claiming that he needed to discuss strategy for the next mission. You agreed, not thinking much of it—after all, it wasn’t unusual for Five to want to go over the details again.

But lunch turned into a daily ritual, one that Five looked forward to more than he cared to admit. He loved the way you bantered with him, matching his wit effortlessly. He found himself laughing more than he had in years, and the sound of your laughter was something he wanted to hear every day.

One afternoon, while the two of you were sitting in your usual spot, you gave him a curious look.

“You know, for someone who’s always so busy saving the world, you seem to have a lot of time to spend with me,” you teased.

Five smirked, though he felt a pang of nervousness. “Maybe I just find your company tolerable.”

“Just tolerable?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Maybe a little more than that.”

Your smile widened, and for a moment, Five felt like he could breathe a little easier. But then you said something that made his heart skip a beat.

“Good. Because I like spending time with you too.”

Encouraged by your words, Five decided it was time to up his game. He started going out of his way to impress you—whether it was by taking down enemies with effortless precision during missions or by showing off his extensive knowledge of the universe’s mysteries.

He even took a rare evening off, dressing up and inviting you to dinner at a fancy restaurant. You looked stunning, and for a moment, Five was at a loss for words. He wasn’t used to feeling this way, so unsure of himself. But when you smiled at him, all the anxiety melted away.

Dinner was perfect. The food was delicious, the conversation flowed naturally, and Five couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at ease. You shared stories, laughed over inside jokes, and for the first time in a long while, Five allowed himself to just be.

As the evening came to an end, Five walked you back to the Academy. The two of you stopped at your door, the air between you charged with a tension that neither of you wanted to break.

“Five,” you began, your voice soft, “I’ve really enjoyed tonight. I… I like this side of you.”

He took a deep breath, knowing that this was his chance. “I’ve been trying to show you that for a while now,” he admitted, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Because… well, I like you. More than I should.”

You looked up at him, your expression tender. “I know. I like you too.”

Five blinked, caught off guard by your straightforwardness. “You do?”

You chuckled, stepping closer to him. “Yeah. I was wondering how long it would take for you to say something.”

He huffed, a smile tugging at his lips. “I guess I’m a little out of practice.”

“Well, you’re doing just fine,” you assured him.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, acting on impulse, Five closed the distance between you, cupping your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, tentative, but full of emotion. When you kissed him back, it was like a wave of relief washing over him.

When you finally pulled away, Five rested his forehead against yours, his heart pounding in his chest. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,�� he murmured.

You smiled, brushing a thumb across his cheek. “I think I have some idea.”

Five grinned, a real, genuine smile. For once, he wasn’t thinking about the future or the past—he was just here, in this moment, with you. And for now, that was enough.

From that day forward, things changed between the two of you. There was no more tiptoeing around your feelings, no more second-guessing. Five was yours, and you were his. It was a new kind of partnership, one built on trust, respect, and a deep, undeniable connection.

And as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Five found himself looking forward to the future for the first time in a long while—because he knew that no matter what came next, he’d have you by his side.

[hyunjinsjeans]

He Knows (Felix ver.)

Han ver. | Seungmin ver. | I.N ver.

Masterlist

Synopsis: After Felix drops several hints that he wants to take the next step in your relationship and is met with your negative answers, a certain event causes you to suddenly realize you will never be truly ready, so why wait? And why make him wait any longer?

Type: Fluff 🧸, female reader 💃

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of children in precarious conditions. Lazily proofread.

Word count: 2075

AN: For someone who swears to be Hyunjin biased, I have to admit little mr sunshine himself does things to me and my brain chemistry and this is evidence of it. I think it turned out pretty cute, let me know your thoughts. Please enjoy!!

You walked the busy streets with a sense of accomplishment, you and Felix had had a wonderful couple of days in Australia already after you decided to schedule the entire trip with Felix to make the most of both of your free time. First, would be a week with Unicef and a week in Australia to see his family. 

It wasn’t easy being a public figure dating an idol. You were used to some degree of fame, appearing in a couple of tv shows. Your big break came after you began dating Felix, but by the time he communicated to his fans that he had been seeing someone and wanted to marry them you were a well established actress. In a way it was insane that he actually asked his fans if it was okay to get married, but you understood idol culture was a completely different ball to being an actress. 

Fortunately, you managed to land bigger and better roles. The exposure had you at a place where you were able to give back to others, so when Felix talked about donating to his favorite charities it came easy to take his advice and look at causes that felt close to you. Which landed you at a child protection center in Madagascar. 

You and Felix recorded each other all throughout the trip, from the moment you walked into the airport back in Korea to the moment you first met with the center director. It was not an easy thing to do, Felix had been on a couple of these trips before so we had a better understanding of what he was doing. You spent most of your time helping in different areas of the center, Felix was with the doctors in the morning and you were in the classrooms with the teachers and children in the meantime. 

It was rough to look at the lives of the children at the center, to watch the tests they had done come back with less than average results. You ended up crying in Felix’s arms the very first night after you spent part of the afternoon helping feed babies with special nutritious formulas and purées. Although you had a hard time in the beginning, you pulled through and found yourself having a harder time leaving the center.

Your talents in the classrooms had quickly made you a friend of most of the children, who liked to play with you and Felix. For the seven days you were there most of the time you managed to interact with one another was spent with a child in your arms. Felix made little effort to hide how much he loved seeing your maternal side, how you cooed at the youngest ones and teased the older ones, how you braiding the girls’ hair and playing football with the boys made his heart swell with love and pride to know one day you would give all that to your children.

He found you cute in how you would encourage the girls with crushes on him, one day even helping a small group make him little love letters (which he packed carefully in his suitcase). On the other hand the boys would run around behind you, asking for a kiss on their cheek or giving you compliments to get you to pat their heads or give them some form of affection, which you had given out freely to all the little ones since day one. 

Saying goodbye had been hard, Felix felt as if he was stealing you away from the youngest kids. You held the babies until the last possible moment, there were two girls; one was only eight months old and fighting to get into a decent weight, the other was a one year old in a similar situation. Felix offered his goodbyes too, both of you promising to return as soon as your busy life allowed it. 

The next stop in your trip was Australia. You spent more than an entire day getting there but managed to arrive successfully, tired and jet lagged. You walked out the gates hand in hand. Puffy eyes, sleepy faces but all smiles.

Felix's family was waiting, all happy smiles and bright attitudes. 

His parents had always been nice to you, reminding you a lot of your own family, Felix’s sisters were shy around you since they did not know you too well but still joked and talked to you a bit. Part of the reason for the trip was because you wanted to get more well acquainted with your husband’s family. 

“Oh, how was it?” Felix’s mom asked the moment she held you, right after hugging her son. 

“It was interesting,” her son commented, “those kids are wonderful, the people running the center are doing an amazing job.”

You echoed his words, adding “yes! It can be so hard too, they have this small hospital, a school and a kitchen… It’s really a lot.”

Felix’s parents guided you outside to their car while you talked. Felix did not let go of his chance to praise you in front of his parents. 

“Our Y/N here was a hit with the kids,” he told his mother, his hand squeezing your hand as an amused smile reached his eyes. “I was worried the boys were going to ask you to marry them.” 

You laughed at his words and leaned your head on his shoulder. “You’re one to talk, how many Ms. Felix did we leave behind?”

He chuckled at that, remembering the letters in his bag. You had gone through them in the plane, they were adorable and some of them had intricate details. 

“Oh, I’m not surprised…” his sisters giggled behind you, “he’s always had fans anywhere he goes.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Felix put his free hand up, “I’ve only got one Ms. Felix.”

During dinner you showed everyone some of the pictures from the trip, by then you had both freshened up and had a short nap. Eating your mother-in-law's warm homemade food made both of you finally feel relaxed and this made it so that you could have a good conversation with everyone at the table. It seemed although Felix’s siblings were still shy around you, they sensed your openness and were eager to ask more about yourself. When they first met you, they had been somewhat starstruck. To you, that was wild because you were nowhere near as famous as their brother - who they loved to tease and play with, so you were pleased this time that you could talk about how much you enjoyed listening to a certain artist, indulging on makeup tutorials on youtube and how you were a terrible baker, telling them the sad story of your last baking fail (it was a batch of coconut cookies that never saw the light of day, partially because you almost burned the place down). 

Once you and Felix were back in your small rental for the week, Felix let his slim arm fall over your shoulders. You giggled as you felt him swing his body from side to side as if he was drunk. By instinct or perhaps by force of habit, your hand grabbed his that was left hanging above your shoulder, your free arm wrapped around your blond husband’s waist. 

“Aw, what will I do with you?” You wondered in a dramatic tone. 

He smiled right in your direction, his eyes turned to the ceiling and he touched his chin with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“You could lay me down on the sofa, or have a baby?” He shrugged, gaze darting back to you. 

“Be so for real right now…” You huffed, squeezing his hand. 

If you had to be honest, you felt bad for shutting him down so many times in the past six months or so. He was not joking, you knew he started disguising it as a joke because you had said no plenty times before. You felt overwhelmed the first time he asked, then the second you were in the middle of staying calm while waiting to hear if you had gotten a role (you did!), then the third time you were worried about being too busy… every time he asked there was something in your mind that went “ah, no because…” 

It did not go unnoticed by either of you how this time, you had no excuse. 

“Y/N?” He straightened up in your embrace and stopped fooling around. 

You said nothing. 

He slid in your field of vision, as you had stopped dead in your tracks in the middle of the living room. Your arms almost dropped to your sides as you stared ahead in wonder. 

Why is your mind blank? You cannot think of anything other than how unprepared you had been on your first day at the center. How you still reached for the babies and held the kids’ hands to let them guide you as you ran behind them to their favorite spots in the makeshift playground. How your heart felt so full of love it was as if it could burst anytime Felix expressed exactly how honored he would be to have you make him a dad. 

He bent his knees to look down at you, “are you alright? Did you fall asleep with your eyes open?” 

The blond swiped his hand in front of your face. 

“Love?”

You felt tears prick at your eyes when you looked up at him. The clouds in your mind had suddenly cleared and you were thankful you had his freckles to focus on before your eyes met his. 

“I will.” You blurted out, “I want to.”

Felix’s brow furrowed, worry about not understanding you filled his chest. 

“You want to… what?”

You blinked, tears spilling from your eyes. Your hands reached to wipe them, but his tender ones beat you to it. You allowed him to clean your face before you held on to his hands. 

“Felix, I am not ready. I don’t think I will ever be… but I want to have your baby.”

He held your gaze for an entire minute, both of you allowed for the silence to settle and your words fell into place where they belonged. Felix’s worried frown softened, his hands ran down your frame like water flowing down a waterfall and he held you close to his body. The warmth and vibrant scent of ginger and cedar wrapped around you. Before the sound reached your ears you could feel the vibrations on his chest, he let out an airy laugh as he rested his chin on your head. 

“I thought you had gone insane for a moment,” he chuckled now but he quieted himself and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry if I’ve pushed you, love…” 

You pulled away from him, fistfuls of his shirt bunched up between your fingers. “No, no, no! You haven’t pushed me!”

Felix stared at your hands and you let go of his shirt while speaking, flattening the fabric. 

“I think I was scared. I love you too much to mess up,” you admitted in a low voice, “I kept thinking of all the things that could make it not work. All the reasons why I could disappoint you… in the end, we’ve done hard things together and we were not ready for them, but we are together.” 

Felix nodded his head along and let you finish. 

“I know how bad you want this, and you know there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” You reached up and smiled as your thumb went over the side of his face. “Besides, you can’t do it without me!” You offered him a bright smile, instantly adding, “please don’t do it without me!”

Your husband laughed, looking away at your panicked last sentence. He nodded and kissed your cheek. 

“I would never do it without you,” he whispered in your ear. “My family is going to go insane if we have a boy, I assure you.”

You tilted your head back arching your brow, “do we want to make them go insane?” 

Felix looked up in fake thought before shaking his head no, “I would prefer to make you insane.”

With that he pulled you up in his arms and started walking down the hall to the bedroom. 

“Right now?! You maniac!” you yelled but there was a big smile on your face. Butterflies dancing in your stomach. 

————

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