#because you will have the confusing undefinable ones

[soupjug]

trying to strictly define relationships into categories ruined us

[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 12 - 'Like Your Home' | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.2k

You and Jude were both exhausted, not just physically after probably too many rounds making up for lost time but emotionally, having navigated the long, winding path back to one another. You and Jude had had sex for hours, you couldn’t get enough. So after you felt completely spent, you closed your eyes, letting yourself relax into him, but then you heard something that caught you off guard. Jude started laughing. It wasn't a big laugh, more like a quiet chuckle that came from deep in his chest, but it was enough to make you lift your head in confusion. You looked up at him, your brow furrowed and a smile pulling at your lips, unsure of what was going through his mind.

"What?" you asked, starting to laugh yourself, tilting your head slightly, wondering what had caused this sudden burst of amusement. Jude grinned, his eyes sparkling with a kind of boyish joy you hadn't seen in a while. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, and he let out another small laugh before he spoke. 

"Sorry. I don’t know. I'm just...so happy," he said, his voice soft but filled with that unmistakable giddiness. He looked at you like he still couldn't quite believe this was real, that you were here with him again, in this way. “Angel, I haven’t fucked you in ages and I cannot tell you how often I’ve thought about that.” He laughed. You blinked at him, a smile tugging at your lips despite your confusion. 

"You're laughing because you're happy you fucked me?" you asked, teasingly raising an eyebrow. Jude nodded, his hand running gently down your back. 

"Yeah," he admitted, looking slightly sheepish but still grinning. "I just missed this so much. Being with you like this... I missed being in bed with you." His confession made your heart flutter, and your smile widened. It was backwardsly sweet. You felt the same sense of relief and joy that he did, that this space between the two of you had finally been filled again. The weight of what had been lost, the heartbreak, the distance-it all seemed to melt away in this moment. It felt good. It felt right. You leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his bare chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your lips. 

"I missed it too," you whispered against his skin, your voice soft but full of truth. You cuddled into him, feeling his warmth, his presence, and that giddiness he had spoken of was reflected in your own heart. “Missed how good you make me feel, baby.” You cooed, kissing his bare chest. Jude wrapped his arms tighter around you, his hand running soothing circles over your back as the laughter faded into a peaceful quiet. The two of you just laid there, wrapped up in each other, feeling the joy of having found your way back. But the longer you laid there in that comforting warmth of Jude’s arms, a sudden wave of insecurity washed over you. You couldn’t help it—everything between you felt perfect now, but the time apart still lingered in the back of your mind. You hesitated, unsure if you should even ask, but the question slipped out before you could stop it. “Jude… Did you…did you sleep with anyone while we were apart?” Your voice was soft, almost timid, but the moment the words left your lips, you felt your heart drop into your stomach. Jude’s body stiffened slightly, and that brief silence made your pulse race. The fear that you had maybe shattered this perfect moment crept in, gnawing at your chest. He sighed deeply, and for a second, you feared the worst. But then he pulled you closer, his hand gently cupping your face as he tilted your chin up so you were forced to meet his eyes.

“No, angel,” he said firmly, his voice soothing but serious. “I didn’t. I don’t want you to ever have to ask me that again.” He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “You’re the only one I want.” You blinked up at him, relief flooding your body, and you gave him a small nod, feeling a bit silly for even asking. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “It’s just… I guess I got scared.” Jude shook his head, giving you a soft smile. 

“Don’t be sorry, I know I’ve hurt you, you deserve to know I haven’t, but I’m just for you, yeah?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’d be crazy to want anything other than this—other than you.” You couldn’t help but giggle softly at his words, a smile breaking through the lingering doubt.

“Yeah,” you teased lightly, “I know just what you like, huh?” You teased. Jude’s eyes glinted with warmth and mischief as he hummed in agreement. His hands dropping to squeeze your ass and pull your body flush against his. 

“Oh, you seem to know more than that,” he said, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “So good f’me. Always have been.” He cooed. Your heart fluttered at the affection in his words, and you buried your face into his chest, feeling the tension dissolve into a soft, shared laughter. It was as though the vulnerability of the moment had brought you even closer, deepening the bond between you two. Jude kissed the top of your head and held you tighter, both of you sinking back into that familiar, comforting space, knowing that you were exactly where you belonged—together. You lay there in the silence of the night dipping into the early morning, wrapped up in each other. 

The world felt quiet, still, like nothing existed outside this moment. Jude's arms were securely around you, You had moved for his chest to be pressed against your back, and his steady breaths brushed your hair. 

“I missed you so much, angel… I missed going to sleep with you.” Jude whispered, breaking the silence. His voice was raw, and it tugged at something deep inside you. You shifted slightly in his arms, turning your head enough to catch a glimpse of him. 

“Did you ever think about me when we were apart?” You asked fairly naively considering he was in New York so evidently he had. 

“Every night,” he admitted softly. “Every fucking night, angel. I couldn’t escape you. I hated when we got to a point when your scent started to fade from my sheets, but even then you were still there, in my dreams.” He told you. You felt a rush of emotion, his words hitting you harder than you expected. You blinked back the sudden sting of tears, trying to keep your voice light, even teasing.

“Well,” you said with a playful smile, “I didn’t want to let you go that easily.” You cooed. Jude chuckled softly, his breath warm against the nape of your neck.

“I wouldn’t have let you anyway.”  Jude told you through a tired laugh. “Missed falling asleep with you in my arms, ya’know.” He whispered, keeping his voice quiet in the dark room. 

“I did too. You know what I missed?” You smiled coyly. Jude hummed. “I really missed the way your cock pushes into me when we cuddle like this.” You pushed your ass back into Jude so his hard cock nestled  just barely in between your ass cheeks. “I love going to sleep feeling that.” You cooed laced with seduction, getting a second wave having this gorgeous boy back in your bed. It was honest though, you did miss it. 

“Fuck. Angel, c’mon I’m knackered don’t start.” Jude breathily laughed, pulling you tighter to him, further pushing himself against you. Despite his caution, he betrayed himself. “I just missed my hands on you. Missed getting you out of all those silly little things you’d wear to bed every night.” He kissed your temple as his massive hands ran over your warm skin. 

“I know you like that. I come to bed with such cute lingerie sets on for you to see and I just end up naked.” You giggled, placing your hands over his, turning your head back to look up and see the smug greedy smile on his face. 

“Eh, that’s okay baby. I like seeing you climb into bed with them on and I really like taking them off of you. I still appreciate them. Just you know… better on my floor is the saying, hmm?” He smirked squeezing you. You shook your head but couldn’t hold back the giggle remembering that very phrase vividly from when you first met in Greece.  As you cuddled closer, letting yourself sink further into him, you felt his lips graze your bare shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss there. It was such a small gesture, but it meant everything. That single kiss held all the love, the longing, and the promise of everything you’d been through together. You took a deep breath, but it caught in your throat as you felt the tears well up again. The overwhelming flood of emotions, the relief of being back in his arms, was too much. 

“I never thought I’d miss someone kissing my shoulder,” you whispered, your voice cracking just a little. Jude heard it, the fragility in your voice, and without a word, he kissed your shoulder again, more tenderly this time. 

“You’ll never have to miss that again,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. His words wrapped around your heart, and you couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They slipped silently down your cheeks, but this time they weren’t out of sadness—they were out of relief. Jude’s arms tightened around you, his lips lingering on your skin, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you belonged. You turned your face into the pillow, not wanting him to see your tears, but Jude noticed. He always noticed. He kissed your hair, then whispered against your ear, “I’ll never stop loving you. Never. Never stop kissing this shoulder.” He kissed you again. And as you lay there, in the quiet, secure in his embrace, you believed him. Every word.

Waking up with Jude after he arrived in New York felt like slipping into a dream, you didn’t want to leave your bed. The morning sunlight peeked through the sheer curtains, casting a soft, golden hue across the room. You were nestled against him, his body warm and solid beneath you, one of his arms draped lazily over your waist, pulling you close as if even in sleep, he couldn’t bear to be apart from you. His breath was soft against the top of your head, a steady, calming rhythm. You could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the comforting beat of his heart grounding you in the moment. It was one of those rare mornings where time seemed to stop, and the rest of the world didn’t matter. You blinked your eyes open slowly, taking in the sight of him—his hair slightly messier than he’d ever want it, the peaceful expression on his face as he slept, his jawline softened in the morning light. For a moment, you just watched him, marveling at the fact that he was there, with you, after everything. You shifted slightly, and Jude stirred beneath you, his grip tightening around your waist as he let out a sleepy, contented sigh. His eyes fluttered open, and when he saw you looking at him, a sleepy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Wow. Good morning beautiful girl," he murmured, his voice rough from sleep, but there was a warmth in it that made your heart swell. A sleepy smile pulling on his lips as he took you in. You smiled back, your fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on his chest. 

"Good morning," you whispered back with a bit of a giggle. For a moment, neither of you moved, content to just be there, wrapped in each other’s warmth. But then Jude shifted, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him so that you were lying on top of him, your faces inches apart. His hands found their way to your ass, his touch gentle but firm as he held you close.

“God, I really fucking missed you, angel” he whispered, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you knew just how much he meant it. You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, and you nodded, leaning down to brush your lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss. 

“I missed you too.” You whispered, your lips ghosting over his. Jude smiled against your lips, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you even closer. 

“You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “I’m not sure I can ever let you out of my sight again.” He cooed. You giggled, your heart fluttering at the way he was looking at you, so full of love and something deeper, something unspoken but understood. 

"You don’t have to," you whispered, resting your forehead against his. "I’m not going anywhere." He let out a soft chuckle, his hands tightening around you as he kissed your temple, then your cheek, and finally your lips again, slow and unhurried. 

“Good,” he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with a mix of relief and contentment. You laid there for a while, tangled up in each other, the world outside the window fading away as you reveled in the warmth and comfort of simply being together. The city noise hummed softly in the background, but in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, wrapped up in your own little bubble. As the minutes passed, you found yourself unable to stop smiling. It felt surreal, having him here, waking up next to him after so much time apart. You could feel the love radiating off him, in the way he touched you, in the way he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in his world. Eventually, Jude broke the comfortable silence, his voice playful as he whispered in your ear, “So, what’s the plan for today? Staying in bed all day sounds pretty good to me.” You laughed, burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

"That doesn’t sound too bad," you admitted, feeling the familiar comfort of his embrace. But then you lifted your head, looking into his eyes with a soft smile. "Although… Maybe we could go get some coffee… please.” You smiled with a childish smile. Jude raised an eyebrow, his smile widening before he began to tease.

"You can’t mean from your kitchen?" He mocked you a little. You grinned, nodding.

"It’s one of the few things I take pride in making in that kitchen.” You added, leaning in to kiss him again. Jude’s laughter rumbled through his chest as he kissed you back, his hands finding their way back to your waist. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, continuing to cast a golden glow over his bare chest. Your fingers absentmindedly traced the contours of his skin, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your touch. His arms were wrapped around you, holding you close, as if neither of you could bear to be apart even for a second, even for coffee. Not yet. You lifted your head slightly, catching his gaze, and the emotions that had been building up within you—emotions you had kept locked away—finally rose to the surface. A seriousness washed over the room. 

“I love you,” you said, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. “I’m pretty sure… from the very first moment we made eye contact, I knew this would be the kind of love that could destroy me.” You unintentionally frowned.  The words came out softly, but there was a weight behind them, a truth that had been waiting too long to be spoken. Jude’s eyes darkened with emotion as he processed your words. He reached up, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek as if grounding you both in the reality of this moment. His touch was gentle, but the look in his eyes was intense—like he was feeling everything just as deeply as you were. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling beneath you, and you could feel the gravity of what he was about to say. 

“I know,” he whispered, his voice low and full of raw emotion. “Looking back… it’s been a little like a hurricane, innit? Something so powerful that you can’t control it, even if you wanted to.” He cooed. You nodded, your throat tight as you remembered all the moments you’d shared, the highs and lows, the intensity of it all. It had been overwhelming at times, but as Jude said, it was like a force of nature—uncontrollable, inevitable. He held your gaze, his eyes softening as he continued, “But we can weather any storm, hmm?” He hummed and you nodded. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. You were patient with me… and for that, I’m so thankful. You’re everything I could’ve ever wanted—everything I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have.” Hearing him say those words—words you had waited for, words you hadn’t known you needed so desperately—made your heart swell. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, smiling through the emotion that threatened to overwhelm you. You laid your cheek back down on his chest, letting the warmth of his skin soothe you, the steady thrum of his heartbeat a comforting rhythm beneath your ear. It was quiet, and peaceful, but the love between you was louder than words could express. His hand stroked your back, sending gentle waves of comfort through you, and the quietness of the room felt sacred, like nothing outside of this moment mattered. You felt so safe in his arms, like this was where you were meant to be all along. As if this love, intense and unrelenting as it was, had finally settled in a way that felt whole.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” you whispered against his skin, your voice muffled slightly by his chest. “Not for a second.” Jude’s arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer, like he never wanted to let you go.

 “Please don’t,” he whispered back, his voice soft but firm. “I love you, angel.” The depth of the words hit you both, but then, as if breaking the tension, you let out a soft, breathy laugh. You lifted your head, meeting his gaze again, this time with a lightness that hadn’t been there before. Jude’s lips curved into a smile as he looked at you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “What?” he asked, his thumb brushing over your cheek. You smiled, shaking your head slightly, but you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up again. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted, feeling a little giddy now that everything was out in the open. “It’s just… we finally said it. We’re finally saying we love each other.” Jude chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he pulled you closer. 

“I know,” he said with a grin. “Little overdue, no?” You nodded, biting your lip as you laughed. 

“Yeah, about time. Honestly, it was so hard not to say it before. There were so many moments when I just wanted to blurt it out.” You shyly smiled thinking of all the times you almost said it, almost typed it. 

“Oh yeah? Like when?” Jude raised an eyebrow, teasing you.  You thought back to the many times you had come close—so many little moments, like when you’d see him smile, or when he’d do something kind without thinking. 

“I don’t know,” you said with a smile. “All the time, really. When we were lying in bed like this, or even when you were just being yourself. I just wanted to text it to you out of the blue.” You explained. It felt like the phrase was a nervous tick. Jude laughed at that, his chest vibrating beneath you. 

“Yeah?” He asked, interested. You giggled, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. 

“Yeah, but I chickened out every time. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if you deserved to know. If I wanted you to know.” You confessed. He shook his head with an amused grin, his hands running up and down your back soothingly. 

“That’s fair. Probably didn't deserve it. But, I’m glad you finally said it now.” Jude told you. You lifted your head again, meeting his eyes with a smile that mirrored his own. 

“Me too.” You muttered. Jude leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender kiss. When he pulled back, he whispered against your lips, 

“I’ll never make you wait for anything again. Not another kiss, not another second of knowing how much I love you.” He mused and you smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. 

“Never?”  You giggled. 

“Never,” he promised with a grin, sealing his vow with another kiss. And for the first time, everything felt right—no more waiting, no more wondering. You were in love, and you both knew it, and it felt like the most beautiful thing in the world. The only thing you could really focus on was Jude, holding you so close you felt like you were sharing the same heartbeat. His arms had stayed wrapped around you the entire night, like a protective cocoon you never wanted to leave. You felt safe, cherished, and loved. You stretched lazily, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, but even as you moved, Jude’s arms never left you. Instead, he stayed close, almost glued to you, his chest pressed to your back as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. You smiled softly to yourself, that familiar warmth spreading through your chest.

“Okay, so I was serious, I really need coffee” you muttered groggily as you slowly made your way toward the kitchen. “But you’re in for a treat. Mon café du matin”  ['my morning coffee'] Jude hummed lowly, the sound reverberating through his chest. His lips brushed against the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“You already treated me pretty well last night,” he teased in a hushed tone, a playful smirk in his voice. A small laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head. 

“I meant with my coffee, Jude,” you said, glancing back at him with a teasing smile of your own. “But I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” He chuckled again, his breath warm against your skin. 

“Oh, I definitely did. But you know, I could get used to this as well… and definitely that,” he added, his arms tightening around you briefly before he loosened his hold just enough to let you move freely.

“I agree,” you admitted softly, your voice quieter now as you reached for the cabinet to grab your french press. “I’m not ready to leave this little bubble we’re in yet.” You glanced down at yourself, still in his oversized shirt that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs. Jude was just in his shorts, and the sight of him so comfortable and relaxed only made you want to stay in this moment forever. Jude leaned back against the kitchen island, his eyes following your every move. 

“I’m not complaining,” he said with a grin, his gaze heavy as he watched you reach up into a cupboard. The shirt lifted slightly with the motion, revealing a glimpse of the curve of your ass and you could practically feel his eyes on you. As you stood on your tiptoes, trying to grab the coffee grounds from the top shelf, Jude moved toward you, his large frame effortlessly closing the distance between you. He pressed up behind you, his chest warm against your back as he reached over your head. “Here, let me help,” he said, his voice a low murmur in your ear. His fingers brushed against yours as he took down the coffee grounds, his touch sending a small thrill through you.

“I could’ve gotten it,” you said, though there was no real protest in your voice. His closeness was something you’d never tire of. You turned slightly, giving him a playful look.

“I know,” he replied softly, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “But I like helping.” With a small smile tugging at your lips, you turned back to the counter, setting up the French press. You worked quietly, enjoying the comfort of the moment, the smell of freshly ground coffee filling the air. Jude leaned against the island, still watching you intently, as if you were the most captivating thing in the room and you were to him. 

“I can help, you know,” he offered again with a grin, his hands resting on the counter as he leaned forward slightly. You waved him off with a teasing smile. 

“You can help by staying right there and looking pretty,” you quipped, your voice playful but affectionate. His grin widened, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. 

“I can manage that.” You reached up into another cupboard for the milk frother, but once again, it was just out of your reach. Jude was behind you in an instant, his hands gently guiding yours as he grabbed it for you. “You really don’t use this kitchen.” He laughed teasingly. “I’ve got you, angel,” he whispered softly, his breath warm against your neck, and it made your heart flutter. You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face was undeniable. 

“What would I do without you?” you teased. 

“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice full of mock seriousness as he handed you the frother. “Probably suffer in silence without my help.” You laughed softly, shaking your head as you finished preparing the coffee. You frothed the milk carefully, the warm, creamy foam rising perfectly in the cup, and finally poured the coffee, the rich, dark liquid filling the air with its inviting aroma. You handed Jude his cup with a satisfied smile, and he accepted it, his fingers brushing against yours for just a moment longer than necessary. He took a sip, his eyes still locked on yours. 

“Perfect,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, appreciative smile. “But I think watching you make it was the best part.” You rolled your eyes again, playfully this time, but you couldn’t help the warm flush that spread across your cheeks. 

“You’re so full of shit,” you muttered under your breath, though there was no real bite to your words. Jude placed the coffee cup down on the counter and pulled you into his arms once more, his hands sliding around your waist. 

“And yet you love me,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with affection. You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist. 

“Yeah,” you murmured softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I really do.” The two of you stood there for a while, wrapped in each other, the world outside the apartment feeling like a distant memory. It was just you and him, in this quiet, perfect moment—your own little bubble where nothing else mattered. And in that moment, everything felt exactly right. Jude took another slow sip of the coffee, savoring the taste with an exaggerated hum of approval. 

“Wait a minute,” he said, his voice tinged with mock seriousness. He set the cup down with a dramatic thud and raised an eyebrow at you. “Why have you never made this for me before?” You giggled, taking a small sip from your own cup, pleased that he liked it. 

“Oh, I mean,” you waffled, “It’s not that I was purposely withholding good coffee from you.” Jude leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, a playful pout on his lips. 

“Feels like I’ve been slighted,” he said, tilting his head as if genuinely offended. “This is really good coffee.” He explained as if you didn’t know. You laughed, shaking your head. 

“Well, you don’t have a French press in Madrid, so it wouldn’t be the same,” you explained with a small shrug. “Plus, these beans are from my favorite cafe in France, so… it’s kind of a special treat.” Jude’s expression didn’t change; instead, he squinted at you in mock offense. 

“Oh, look at me, my coffee is European,” he said, throwing his hands in the air dramatically, his voice bouncing around the kitchen. He heightened his voice into a thick, exaggerated version of your accent and mimicked you in a teasing tone. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him, feigning annoyance, though you couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face. 

“You’re actually so annoying.” you said, brushing past him toward the sink. But just as you tried to walk by, you felt a sudden tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling you back. Jude wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you against his chest as he slid his hands under your shirt, his fingers trailing lightly over your bare skin. His touch sent a small shiver up your spine, and you melted back into him instinctively.

“If I promise to get you a French press,” he murmured against your ear, his voice low and filled with playful affection, “and I find these fancy Parisian coffee beans—” he paused to squint at the label on the bag you’d left on the counter, “Café du something or other—will you make me this coffee again in Madrid?” You couldn’t help but laugh at how serious he was pretending to be. You leaned your head back against his chest, letting his warmth envelop you as you smirked. 

“If you promise to get the Maison Flaneu French press.” You stressed the brand. “and the coffee beans, then yes,” you said, turning your head slightly to catch his eyes. “I’ll make it for you whenever you want.” Jude’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up. 

“Deal,” he said, and before you could say anything else, he leaned down to press a kiss to your neck, his lips lingering just long enough to send another shiver through you. You smiled to yourself, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest as he held you close, the two of you wrapped in this perfect moment. The teasing, the affection—it all felt so right, like this was exactly where you were meant to be. And as you stood there, with Jude’s hands still resting on your skin, you knew that no matter where you were—New York, Madrid, maybe even Paris—moments like this would always feel like home. As you sipped your coffee standing at your kitchen island, Jude caught you off guard by asking if he could go to work with you. You laughed, nearly spilling your drink, teasing him lightly, 

"I wasn’t even planning on going to the gallery today, but if you really want to, I’ll take you." You explained. Jude, however, was adamant. 

"You’ve been to where I work a hundred times," he said, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I want to see where you do your thing. I’m interested." It was an unexpected request, and it warmed your heart to see how curious and involved he wanted to be in your world. So, with a soft smile, you agreed. You both got ready for the day, heading out into the crisp Manhattan morning, you in a brown cropped cardigan, Jude in a cream jumper. The ride over was quiet but comfortable, both of you lost in your thoughts. The city buzzed with its usual energy as the Uber wound through the streets, finally pulling up outside the gallery district on the west side. When you arrived, Jude leaned forward, squinting through the car window at the sight of your last name engraved in elegant gold lettering on the plate outside the gallery entrance. He clicked his tongue, impressed, a low whistle escaping him. 

"Damn, okay" he murmured, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Your name in gold, huh?" Before you could respond, Jude was already out of the car, rounding it quickly to open your door. He reached for your hand, helping you out with a small smile that made your heart swell. His hand felt warm, grounding, and as you straightened up, he kept your hand in his, but didn’t let you walk toward the gallery door just yet. Instead, he tugged you gently back to him, his eyes soft but serious. "Wait a second," he said, and there was something in his voice that made you pause, looking up at him expectantly. Jude gazed at you, and for a moment, the noise of the city, the bustling streets, and even the fact that you were standing outside your gallery all faded into the background. It was just the two of you, standing there, and the look on his face told you he was about to say something important. "Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?" he asked quietly, his voice low and sincere. His eyes scanned your face, searching for your reaction. "I mean, I always knew you were amazing, but standing here… seeing your name on that plate… I don’t know, it just hit me."  You blinked, taken aback. Your breath caught in your throat as his words settled in. 

"Jude…" you started, but he wasn’t done. He stepped closer, his hand now gently squeezing yours. 

"You’re incredible," he continued, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I don’t think I’ve told you enough how much I admire what you do. This place—it’s yours. You’ve built this yourself, this career, and I just… I’m really proud of you, angel." There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a rare moment where he let the layers fall away completely, showing you exactly what he felt. It wasn’t just admiration. It was awe. He was in awe of you—of everything you had achieved, everything you were. It felt special that you had a building of your own. You felt a lump form in your throat, your eyes stinging with the sudden threat of tears. Jude had always supported you in his own way, but his job seemed to take importance so hearing him say it like this, with such honesty, struck something deep within you. 

"You… you don’t know what that means to me." Your voice wavered as you spoke. Jude smiled softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. 

"I think I do, I know footie feels like the biggest thing in the world sometimes around me but it's not. I know how important this is, how hard you’ve worked," he murmured, his thumb lingering on your cheek for a moment before dropping back to his side.  For a second, you stood there, caught in the overwhelming emotion of the moment. The pride in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice—it was everything you didn’t realize you needed to hear. You swallowed hard, blinking away the tears that had gathered, and gave him a small, watery smile. 

"Come on," you said, your voice still thick with emotion, "let’s go inside." Jude smiled back, his hand slipping around your waist as the two of you finally made your way into the gallery. But the words he had said outside stayed with you the entire day, a warmth that filled your chest, reminding you just how deeply he understood and valued you. As you stepped inside the gallery, Jude spun slowly, taking in the large white space adorned with the current exhibition. His eyes wandered from the walls to the art and then back to you. A small, proud smile curled at the edges of his lips. He was trying to take it all in—the breadth of what you’d created.  You tried to play it modest, shrugging as you noticed the small line of people forming outside the entrance. There were appointments scheduled for the day, gallery tours, and more. It was busy, but in a way that felt fulfilling. Still, you felt the need to downplay it, like you weren’t completely running an entire space that was clearly a success. "So, what do you think?" you asked, trying to keep it casual. Jude turned his attention fully to you, his eyes soft but filled with pride. 

"It’s incredible," he said. "But of course, it is. You’re behind it." You blushed, laughing it off, 

"You’re just saying that because you’re in love with me." You told him. He gave you a cheeky grin. 

"Maybe. But it’s still true." He cooed. You gestured for him to follow as you began showing him around the space, pointing out the different pieces on display. Jude nodded along, listening as you explained the curation process, the artists you’d chosen, and the themes that ran through the exhibition. After a while, you glanced over at him.

"Want to see my office?" There was a playful lilt in your voice, and Jude raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Your office?" he repeated, as if he hadn’t really considered the fact that either of you had what could be classified as an ‘office job.’ You rolled your eyes at his reaction, teasing. 

"Yeah, someone’s got to actually run this place. You think it just happens on its own?" You giggled and he followed with a chuckle, then tilted his head, giving you a curious look. 

"I guess I never really thought of it like that." He smiled. You led the way, and Jude followed closely behind, his arms suddenly slipping around your waist from behind. He rested his chin gently on your shoulder as you walked, and for a moment, you felt the warmth of him against your back. It was comforting, grounding, like he was anchoring himself to you—and you to him.

"You know," you continued, your voice soft, "I feel like more of a figurehead these days. There’s a whole team that keeps things running day-to-day, but I still have to occasionally show up and make the decisions. Keep the place alive but I keep finding myself out of the country in Spain." You teased. Jude squeezed your waist gently, his voice soft in your ear.

"And Spain really likes when you’re there. Any county is very lucky to have you. Any man even more so, angel. But you’re doing more than keeping it alive. You’ve built something amazing. You should be proud." The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way. He was seeing you in a way that felt so validating, so true. You’d spent so long doubting whether you could balance everything—your career, your relationship with Jude, your life in New York—and hearing him acknowledge your success like this was overwhelming in the best way. You reached the office, a modest but well-decorated space tucked away at the back of the gallery. Jude looked around, impressed. It was your sanctuary, filled with art books, framed photos, and personal touches that made it distinctly yours. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he took it all in, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

"Not what you expected?" you asked, turning to face him. He grinned, leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his chest.

"I don’t know what I expected. But this… this is pretty perfect, like an extension of your apartment, you in a room." You smiled, leaning into him, and for a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you. Jude lifted his hand to your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. "I know I keep saying it," he murmured, "but I honestly am so fucking proud of you. Seeing it first hand is just different." Your breath hitched, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart flutter. You didn’t respond with words—you didn’t need to. Instead, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, letting the moment speak for itself. You giggled, catching Jude’s attention. 

"Can I show you my favorite part?" You asked with a glint in your eyes. He nodded eagerly but with a hint of confusion, glancing around the small office. 

"Uh… sure, but where? I feel like we’ve already seen everything." Smirking, you leaned back against what looked like a solid wall, but with a gentle push, it gave way, revealing a hidden door. Jude's eyes widened in surprise before bursting into laughter.

"Why do you have that?" he asked, still chuckling in disbelief. You shrugged, grinning. 

"The previous owners of the building had it installed. Figured I’d keep it for secret escapes." Without further explanation, you led the way through the hidden door, which opened to a small, bright staircase. Jude followed behind, his curiosity piqued. The stairs were narrow and led up to the roof of the building. As you reached the top, the cool New York air hit your skin, and you stepped out onto the rooftop. It wasn’t the highest rooftop in Manhattan—not by a long shot—but there was something undeniably beautiful about it. The surrounding buildings framed a small slice of sky, and the quietness of the tucked-away street made the space feel like a secret oasis in the bustling city. You turned to Jude, watching his expression as he took it all in. "I come up here for everything," you said softly. "To think, to drink, to have friends over. To escape when I need a breather... to paint." You paused, your voice dropping a little. "To cry, lately." Jude’s heart shattered at your admission. He hadn’t realized how much you’d been carrying on your own since the fallout between you two. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He held you close, his chin resting on your shoulder again as he swayed with you in a gentle rhythm, offering comfort the only way he knew how.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against your ear. “For all of it.” He murmured. You closed your eyes, feeling his embrace sink into you.

"It's okay now." You whispered back to him. The thing was… you actually thought it was okay. The warmth of his body against yours felt like home again, the weight of everything that had happened finally starting to lift. Jude kissed the top of your head softly.

"Do you think I can add something to the list of things you do up here?" He asked you gently. You turned slightly, curiosity lighting up your face. 

"What’s that?" You asked. He leaned in, his eyes locking onto yours, and you knew before he even said a word. He closed the space between you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was soft but filled with everything he couldn’t say. You felt the love pouring through it—the promises, the apologies, the commitment—and you melted into him, letting it wash over you. When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you smiling. “That’s a very good addition.” You giggled. In that moment, surrounded by the city, it felt like the world had paused for just the two of you.

After you left the gallery, you walked down the busy New York street, hand in hand with Jude, it was all bizarre. It was like every step, every glance around felt charged, and you were acutely aware of how the world seemed to stare at him—or maybe at the two of you together, more than ever. If people didn’t know he was the Jude Bellingham, they certainly noticed the way he commanded attention—tall, striking, and beautiful in every sense of the word. His presence was magnetic, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him too, still in awe of the fact that he was here, beside you. You felt lucky. You didn’t want to be anywhere but with him. You reached a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change as you nestled closer into him. Jude responded instantly, pulling you tighter against him with a gentle sway, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your hair. It was one of those moments that felt too perfect, too intimate to be happening in such a bustling city. The world around you blurred, and it was just you two, back in your little bubble again. But then, his voice cut through the comfort of the moment. 

“Come back home.” Jude asked you quietly.  You pulled back slightly, your brow furrowed, trying to make sense of what he was asking.

“Jude, this is my home,” you gestured around, pointing to the towering buildings and streets filled with life. But you kind of pouted. The sentence felt wrong. This wasn’t your home, it hadn’t felt that way for awhile. Jude was your home but nevertheless laced with fear of really committing, you told him otherwise. “New York is my home.” He shook his head, a soft but sure smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at you. 

“Your home should be with me.” His words sank into you, deeper than you expected. His voice was steady, filled with an unmistakable certainty. “Anywhere can be home if we’re together.” His hands found their way to your waist, his fingers pressing gently into your skin as he leaned in, his lips just ghosting over yours. “Please,” he whispered, his voice a mix of longing and vulnerability. Your heart fluttered, your chest tight as the weight of his request settled. This was what you had been craving from Jude all along—his honesty, his willingness to fight for you, to make it clear that you belonged with him, that he needed you. “I’m not asking you to stop working with the gallery, I wouldn’t do that. I know how important that is, I told you how proud I am for doing just that but… angel just come be with me. Please. I don't want to be apart right now.” Jude unintentionally pouted. His heart sinking at the idea of being apart again, something that had definitely crossed your own mind.

“Okay.” You whispered softly. You bit your lip, the corners of your mouth lifting into a cheeky smile as you nodded. You couldn’t say no. You didn’t want to say no. His eyes brightened at your answer, a quiet relief washing over his face as he pulled you even closer. This was the side of Jude you had been waiting to see, the side that wasn’t afraid to take control, to tell you what he wanted. And in that moment, you knew that you’d made the right decision. You wanted this, you wanted him.

As you and Jude boarded the private plane bound for Madrid at JFK, exhaustion weighed heavily on you. You really hadn’t been sleeping much at all because of Jude. Before he arrived you couldn’t sleep because you missed him. Now, you couldn’t sleep because you were staying up fucking all night. Tiredly, you clung to Jude, both of you in sweat sets, your arms loosely wrapped around him as he effortlessly carried your smaller pieces of luggage onto the plane. The coziness of your clothes, the intimacy of the small gestures—it all felt like the home you were looking for except you were on tarmac. Once on board, Jude, ever the drama queen, made a show of dropping onto one of the plush seats, pulling you down with him in a clumsy, playful tumble. You giggled tiredly, the sound soft and content as you nestled into him, your body melting into his as if it belonged there. After a few moments, you started to shift, slinking off Jude to pull your jumper off in a sluggish attempt to get comfortable. But as you did, the fabric snagged on your shirt underneath, pulling it up with it and exposing a lot more of you then you were anticipating; revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your skin and the lacy black bra that barely contained your generous cleavage. You sucked in some air, your eyes widening as you realized the unintended striptease. Jude's eyes widened comically, his hand darting out to dramatically yank the shirt back down as if you were flashing a stadium full of people. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he teased, covering you up with an exaggerated flourish. "This is a private plane, angel, but it’s not that private." You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, the tiredness fading away for a moment as you swatted his arm.

"Relax, Judey, it's just you and me." You cooed mischievously with a wink. He grinned, still playing up his faux alarm. You’d be lying though if you said your heart didn't race. You glanced around, hoping none of the cabin crew had witnessed your accidental exposure.

"Exactly, and I know how I get when you're taking your clothes off. Gotta make sure you don’t strip down completely." You rolled your eyes, sinking back into his side, feeling his arm wrap protectively around your shoulders.  Jude's eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you after your predicament. "Well go on then…if you want to take your clothes off f’me, take your clothes off f’me.” He winked, his gaze burning into you. 

"Oh, really? Now you want to see? And what if I don't feel like putting on a show for you right now?" Feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment and arousal, you tried to play it cool. Jude's smile turned devilish. He pressed a button, and the cabin crew appeared, ready to assist. 

"Actually, we won't be needing anything for a while," he said, waving them off. "If we could just have a few minutes, we’d like some privacy." The attendants nodded discreetly and retreated, leaving you alone with Jude and your growing desire. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Now, take that shirt off f’me, baby. Let me see you." Your breath caught in your throat as you surrendered to his request. Slowly, you raised your arms, your fingers deftly peeling your top up over your head until you and your black lace clad tits were exposed. Your nipples immediately hardened in the cool air, begging for attention. Jude's eyes darkened with hunger as he feasted on the sight of your naked body. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, reaching out to cup your heavy breasts in his large hands. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You moaned softly, arching into his touch, your inhibitions melting away. He unclasped the bra and the fabric fell. 

"Please, Jude," you whispered, your voice hoarse with need. "I want you so bad." He leaned in, capturing one taut peak between his lips, sucking gently while his fingers pinched the other, eliciting a delicious moan from your lips. His tongue teased and flicked, driving you wild with desire. You squirmed against him, your core throbbing and aching for his touch.

"You taste so fucking sweet," he murmured against your sensitive flesh as his hands ideally pulled down your joggers. "I want to taste all of you." Before you could respond, Jude's mouth trailed kisses down your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.  “Let me see more of you.” Jude looked up from beneath you, his eyes locking with yours, and he gave you a wicked grin.  He gently pushed your legs apart, his breath hot on your inner thighs, making you tremble with anticipation. You knew what was coming, and you couldn't wait to feel his talented mouth on more of you. You whimpered, your body already on fire, as Jude's fingers gently parted your folds, exposing your glistening pussy. He leaned in, his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin, and then his tongue swiped slowly through your slit, making you gasp.

"Oh, fuck Jude," you cried out, your fingers gripping the plush seat as he teased your clit with the tip of his tongue. He took his time, licking and sucking, driving you closer to the edge with each pass. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his mouth, more of his skilled touch.

"That's it, angel," Jude encouraged, his voice thick with desire. He delved deeper, his tongue thrusting into your wetness, finding your sweet spot with ease. Your body trembled as he devoured you, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for his pleasure. Even as you tried to close your legs he pinned them open. 

"I'm gonna cum, Jude! Shit!!” You felt white hot pleasure begin to course through you. You were practically shaking but Jude held you tighter to him as he ate you out. Your voice hoarse and desperate. The sensations were overwhelming, and you felt your orgasm building, tightening every muscle in your body.  “I love you, oh my god fuck I’m cumming!” Jude increased the pace, his tongue working feverishly, driving you over the edge. You climaxed with a shout, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you. He didn't let up, continuing to lap at your sensitive flesh, drawing out your orgasm until you were reduced to a trembling, satisfied mess.

"You wanna be a good girl f’me?" he said, his voice rough with need. You nodded as your breathing slowly returned to normal, Jude rose, his eyes smoldering with desire. “You’re so fucking hot, baby.” Jude moaned as you traded places with him, beginning to work kisses down his neck. You kissed at his chest and slowly started to get onto your knees in front of him. “Fuck you’re perfect.”  You eagerly slid off his joggers your hands trembling with anticipation as you freed his straining erection. His cock was thick and hard, pulsing with each heartbeat. You stroked him gently, reveling in the feel of his velvety skin and the warmth of his length in your hand. His breath hitched as your hands wrapped around his hard cock.  "Suck my cock, angel," Jude growled, his eyes never leaving yours. "Show me how much you want it." He told you. You needed no further encouragement. You wasted no time, immediately leaning forward, you took the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive crown, tasting the salty pre-cum that beaded at the tip. Jude groaned, his hands tangling in your hair, guiding you as you took more of him into your hot, wet mouth. You bobbed your head, taking him deep, your throat welcoming the invasion. Your hand pumped the base of his shaft in time with your movements, and you reveled in the power you had over this gorgeous man. Jude's breath came in harsh gasps as he fought for control, his hips thrusting gently to meet your rhythm. You moaned again around him, the vibrations just about sending Jude over the edge. You hollowed your cheeks and forced yourself to take more of his cock down your throat. Spit pooled in the corners of your mouth as you gagged a little around him.  “Fuck, good girl, just like that” Jude groaned. His words making your pussy throb. He started to twitch in your mouth as he hit the back of your throat continuously "Baby, you're gonna make me cum," he rasped, his body tensing. You redoubled your efforts, sucking and stroking, determined to bring him to the brink. Jude's hands tightened in your hair, and with a guttural groan, he spilled in your mouth, his hot cum shooting down your throat. You opened your mouth for him to see his cum dripping from your tongue before you swallowed eagerly, relishing the taste of him, milking his cock until he was spent. You opened your mouth again to show him how good you did. He smiled and shook his head in disbelief as he pulled you off him slowly and brought you back up to him. As he recovered, Jude pulled you up for a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, sharing the taste of his release. "That was fucking incredible," he whispered in between kisses, his eyes burning into yours. "I need to feel you around me now." You straddled his lap, guiding his already re hardened throbbing cock to your entrance. With a slow, torturous descent, you sank yourself down onto his length, your body welcoming the fullness. Eliciting a deep moan from both of you. Your eyes fluttering closed from the stretch. Jude's hands gripped your hips, helping you set a relentless pace, your tits bouncing with each thrust. "You feel so good, angel," he groaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. "Ride me, ride my cock." You obeyed, your body moving in a sensual rhythm, your core clenching and releasing around his hardness. The cabin was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your erotic moans as you both chased the pinnacle of pleasure minute after minute.

“Fuck! Ffuck Jude, I’m gonna cum. Shit baby, you feel so good, oh my god.” Your head collapsed onto his shoulder as he relentlessly thrusted up into you as your high barrelled towards you.  You could barely speak from how good he felt. 

"Cum with me, baby," Jude urged, his voice hoarse. "Let go. Be a good girl and cum on my cock." Your body tightened, every nerve ending on fire as you spiraled towards ecstasy. Jude's hands cupped your tits, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, pushing you over the edge. Your stomach tightened and your walls fluttered as you came. You cried out, your body convulsing around his cock as you climaxed, your juices flowing freely, coating him with your essence. Jude followed suit, his cock throbbing and pulsing within you as he emptied himself deep inside you. You collapsed against him again, your hearts pounding in unison, the taste of victory on your lips as you joined the exclusive Mile High Club for the first time with him. You snuggled against Jude, your bodies still entwined, satiated and blissfully content.The plane hummed softly around you, the gentle noise blending with the quiet rhythm of Jude’s breathing. You sighed, resting your head on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. 

"I can’t believe you got me like that from me just trying to take off a jumper.” You shook your head very aware there was no possible way the cabin crew didn’t hear you. Jude shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Oh my god…You're such a loser," you muttered teasingly, your voice muffled against his chest. It wasn’t ‘no big deal’ to Jude and you knew that.

"And you love it," he replied, kissing the top of your head. You smiled against him, your exhaustion finally winning out as you settled deeper into his embrace. As the plane glided through the air leaving New York behind, you knew with Jude by your side, Madrid—or anywhere else for that matter—felt like home. You smiled against him, your exhaustion finally winning out as you settled deeper into his embrace. As you lay in Jude’s arms on the plane, the hum of the engines lulling you into a comfortable calm, you felt safe. It was the kind of peace you’d been yearning for after everything you two had been through. Half way through the flight you began a quiet conversation. But as Jude brought up Aurélien’s party, his tone was tentative, pulling you out of your thoughts. You nodded, shifting slightly to look up at him, 

"Yeah, I heard about it. He texted me." You tried to keep your voice light, sensing the unease creeping into the conversation. Jude knew you’d spoken but you didn’t know he knew that. Jude winced, and you noticed how his hand tightened a little around you. There was something weighing on him.

"Didn’t know you even had his number," he said, awkwardly trying to navigate the conversation. His voice was low, careful. Your brow furrowed, confusion mixing with a bit of concern. 

"He gave it to me after we chatted on Instagram. Neither of us really use the app that much, so it was easier. It wasn’t a big deal, baby." You explained. Both of you felt like you were fast approaching an eggshell ridden path. He nodded slowly, clearly still unsettled. His eyes flickered with something you recognized — jealousy, maybe insecurity. Jude had never been good at hiding how much he cared, and even now, with everything back on track, that worry still lingered. 

"Did you two talk about more than the party?" Hesitantly, he asked. His voice was softer, like he was afraid of the answer. Your stomach twisted a little. You didn’t want to lie, but you also didn’t want to hurt him, especially not now, when things were starting to feel good again. Still, honesty was what had made things so rocky and if you were going to rebuild this relationship, you couldn’t hide anymore. You shifted in his arms, not quite meeting his eyes. 

“We… might have talked about the party maybe more than we should’ve,” you admitted quietly, biting your lip as you tried to gauge his reaction. You could feel his body tense beneath you, and the silence that followed was deafening. He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening slightly as he stared at the ceiling of the plane. 

“What does that mean?” he asked, his voice betraying the emotion he was trying to keep in check. He didn’t want to ask — you could tell — but he needed to know. You exhaled, feeling a little scared of where this was going. It was arguably more uncomfortable considering what happened hours earlier in the flights.  

“I mean… it wasn’t anything serious, but I don’t know, you probably wouldn’t want to hear about it.” You tried to sound as casual as possible, but the weight of your words hung in the air between you. Your vagueness seemed to make things worse. Jude’s grip on you loosened slightly, and he let out a shaky breath. 

“What was it then?” He asked. Jude couldn’t figure out what emotion he was meant to feel. You hesitated, knowing that whatever you said next could either calm him down or make things worse. 

“It was flirty I guess,” you admitted, your voice small. “But I swear it didn’t mean anything. I was hurt, and I guess I just needed a distraction.” His face darkened slightly, but he didn’t say anything right away. His eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out if he could handle this, if he could trust that it didn’t mean anything more. You could see the struggle in him — the way he was trying to push down the jealousy, the hurt, the insecurity. 

“I really don’t like the idea of you talking to him like that. I really don’t fucking like the idea of him talking to you like that,” he finally said, his voice tight but not angry. He was holding back, trying to be understanding, but you could feel the weight of his words.

“I know,” you whispered, placing a hand on his chest. “And I’m sorry. But it wasn’t real, Jude. It was just me trying to cope, trying to fill this void that I knew only you could fill.” Jude closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at you again. 

“I get it,” he said softly, surprising you.  You wrapped your arms around him tighter, resting your forehead against his chest. You sat there remembering bits of your conversation you had initially sat in your wardrobe with Aurelian that had moved into your bed that night. The weight of everything you were feeling mixed with the warmth of the champagne you had decided to drink that night, you found yourself slipping into a conversation that felt easier than it should have. Aurélien messaged you about his party, the mundane logistics of the night quickly turning into something else. The champagne had loosened your thoughts, made them flow in a way they normally wouldn’t. You weren’t actually interested in him and Aurelian at the end of the day wasn’t interested in pursuing you. You both weren’t really going to cross that line, but flirting was flirting. He knew maybe it was just to get your mind off things but you knew the moment the conversation shifted, there was a danger in it—but the loneliness inside of you craved something, anything, that would make you feel less empty. Aurélien mentioned how excited he was for champagne that night, and you had laughed, replying with a comment that surprised even you. 

‘I have to be careful with Dom Pérignon… I always get a little too friendly after a few glasses.’

You had thought it would stay light, a harmless joke. But then he replied…

‘No man in the world would ever complain about you being too friendly. Especially not me.’

You blinked at the message, your stomach turning in that way it does when you know you’re toeing the line, but you didn’t stop. You didn’t pull back. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the hurt that had been building for the past month, but you kept the conversation going. The truth was, in that moment, you loved the attention. You weren’t used to being seen this way by anyone other than Jude lately, and with the state of your relationship then, you had felt starved for affection. The cynicalness of it being Aurelian made it all the more enticing. 

‘I doubt that.’

You had typed back, fingers moving quickly across the keyboard as you laid in your bed, the alcohol making everything a little hazy. 

‘It feels like there are oceans between me and anyone remotely interested in being ‘friendly’ with me.’

You were, of course, thinking about Jude. How distant things had become. But the conversation wasn’t about him anymore—it was about you and Aurélien and this strange tension that had been building between you two in the shadows of your messages. But you didn’t want to stay in that uncomfortable place, so you made another joke, something to shift the tone. 

‘But it’s fine, I’ve got Dom Pérignon in bed with me tonight, and that will have to do.’

His reply came almost instantly. 

‘Dom Pérignon is one lucky man.’

You remembered lying there, staring at your phone, your heart beating a little faster, not because of Aurélien exactly, but because of what this meant. You were crossing lines, even if nothing physical was happening. You were venturing into emotional territory that you didn’t even fully understand. You had craved the connection, but when you put your phone down that night, a small part of you knew you were just trying to fill a void that only Jude could fill. The guilt didn’t set in right away. In the moment, you had felt a strange sense of validation, a thrill that someone was paying attention to you when you had felt so invisible for so long. But as you lay there in the dark, the champagne buzz slowly fading, reality crept in the same way it was on the plane right now.

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

Next part - Chapter 13 - The Grand Palais xx

[littlelou22]

you’re my sunshine | joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel are polar opposites. you are sunshine while he is cloudy. but you’re his sunshine and he doesn’t quite know how to handle that.

warnings: insecure!joel, undefined age gap (reader is in 20s, joel is canon age), judgy ass jackson people

word count: 2.5k

divider credit: @saradika

requested: yes by the lovely and inspiring @pedgeitopascal 🫶🏻 find it here

a/n: second fic, lets gooooo. requests are open, so drop one if you would like (i'm still new at this so i may not do all of them, just trying to get back into writing first)

The people of Jackson were stumped by the three newcomers. 

Well, more specifically, they were stumped by you.

They didn’t understand how someone like you came along with the man and the girl.

There was Ellie. Even though she is only fourteen, the girl was wise beyond her years. A young girl that possessed the vocabulary of a sailor. Rough around the edges. Strong willed, incredibly witty, and as sarcastic as one could possibly be. 

There was Joel. A man hardened by the cards that life seemed to have dealt him, emotionally stunted, and just plain grumpy. Borderline rude to the members of the community, apart from his brother and sister in law. Over cautious of each and every person in the community.

And then there was you.

A woman who embodies the word sunshine. An optimist. The type to always lend a hand whenever needed. Smiles constantly adoring your face. You can find good in any situation, even during the apocalypse.

So it came as a surprise when the community found out that you were dating the grumpy old man.

If someone had asked when you and Joel had gotten together, you wouldn’t know what to tell them. You don’t know how or when it happened, it just was. It had always been. 

The two of you met a few years prior. Tess insisted that they needed another partner, a younger woman to attract a different type of customer. At first, Joel didn’t care. If that’s what the girl would do, then that was that. But when Tess brought you home, it shifted for him. He couldn’t stand the thought of the men in the QZ doing business with someone as sweet as you. As pure as you.

So he looked out for you and in turn, you did the same. Quick hellos turned into small talk which turned into conversations. A pickup turned into a hangout which turned into you going to sleep in his bed every night. It just happened.

You were Joel’s and he was yours. It was simple.

Simple to you, at least. You loved him, it was obvious to anyone around you. You looked at him as if he was the center of the universe. You told him as much, as frequently as he would allow you to. It didn’t bother you too much that he never said it back. Regardless of the small and doubting voices in your head, you knew he felt the same. 

Joel, even after years with you by your side, still didn’t quite understand how someone like you could be with someone like him. How someone like him could deserve to be with someone like you. After everything he had done before you, everything he had done to protect you. 

But you were. And it isn’t that Joel is complaining, because he is not, he just doesn’t know what to do about it. How to act around you in public with the prying (and equally as confused as him) eyes.

Everywhere the two of you went, the eyes followed. The thoughts of the community consumed Joel’s mind. He knew what they thought of him, hell, what they thought about Ellie. And while he couldn’t stand how they viewed his surrogate daughter, he understood why they viewed him.

He wasn’t kind like you. He didn’t acclimate like how you did. He didn’t offer his skills to better the community. He avoided going to the movie nights unlike you, who embraced the chance to mingle with the community. 

Joel didn’t miss the way the people would shy away from you whenever he would approach. How their conversation would abruptly end with a forced goodbye, as if Joel was an intruder to his own relationship.

As the time went by, Joel began to doubt himself. How could someone like you want to be with him? With a past like his? He wasn’t worthy of your attention. Of your time. Of your love. 

Hell, Joel couldn’t even bring himself to tell you that he loved you. Even after all the years you’ve spent together. He did, he loved you more than he ever thought was possible after Sarah died. He just didn’t know how to tell you.

Joel wasn’t a man of words, he was a man of action. He showed you that he loved you. Whether it was fixing you your favorite tea in the morning or building bookshelves for the many books you’ve found on patrol, he showed his love through acts of service. 

But he was beginning to doubt that it was enough for you.

It started at the Tipsy Bison. Joel had promised to help Tommy repair one of the decks to a house. You weren’t much help with a task like this, to your dismay, so you had wandered off to town with the promise of meeting the brothers when they had finished for the night. 

Ellie opted to stay back at the house, feigning sickness. You could see right through her act but knew how the girl had been struggling since arriving in Jackson. How she had been struggling before the three of you even got here. So, in spite of Joel’s obvious displeasure, you granted her the solace that she was silently requesting.

You were sitting at the bar with a group of women, discussing the upcoming holiday and how the town would celebrate it, when the Miller brothers made their appearance in the establishment. 

And while your smile grew at the sight of your man, the women around you seemed to tense. As Joel approached you, the conversation faded into quiet murmurs.

“Hi babe,” you greeted as he stopped in front of your stool. You watched as his cheeks flushed at the pet name, the smile you wore only growing. “You and Tommy finish the deck?”

“Not yet,” Joel responded, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He nodded to the women surrounding you, only receiving a tight lipped smile back in response. “Got too dark and Maria needed him home.”

“The girls and I were just talking about how we could convince Tommy to dress up as Santa for the kids this year. Wouldn’t that be sweet?” You were excited about the idea, evident by the happiness lighting up your face.

“The sweetest,” Joel replied, shifting foot to foot under the watchful eyes of the women around you.

As you filled Joel in on the other plans for the upcoming celebration, the three other women that you had been planning with watched the interaction. It was almost comical to Joel – he was labeled as the rude one, yet these women were looking back and forth between the two of you with obvious confusion. Suspicion towards Joel. And, if Joel was reading it right, one of them was wearing a shade of disgust. 

Joel knew he wasn’t the best type of person in the world but to be looked at with disgust seemed a bit too far for him.

“Joel?” Your voice startled him from his thoughts. You had slipped your coat on before beginning to rise from the barstool you had been perched upon. “You ready to get back home? I want to make sure Ellie is okay.”

With a smile and a wave, you bid the ladies a goodbye before turning to your boyfriend. You watched as he forced a nod at them before he began to make his way towards the exit. Falling into step with him, you slip your hand into his coat pocket, lacing your fingers along his with a squeeze. Eyes on his face as you watch him let out a shuddering breath, shoulders tensing even more than they usually were.

You may be an optimist that sees the best in not only every person that you encounter but in the world as well, even if it is a fucked up mess thanks to the cordyceps. You may be a cheerful person with a smile on your face more often than not, even in the face of danger. But you weren’t stupid.

And you certainly weren’t blind.

You saw how the people in Jackson treated Joel. How they looked down upon him. He may not be totally involved in the community, but he helped where he could and when he could. The people of this town operated on favors, but it was hard to fulfill one for someone when you were on patrol as much as Joel was.

Everyone took rotations, yourself included. But Joel took it a step further. Maybe it was his incessant need to protect Ellie and yourself, maybe it was his nature. Or maybe it was just what he thought he could best provide to the community for. Joel was outside the wall more than he was inside of it, patrolling new and old areas alike to ensure the community’s safety. Going on what seemed like endless supply runs to restock any medication, materials, and other things that anyone could potentially even need.

Not only did you see everything Joel did for the community, even if they couldn’t share that view, but you saw how Joel treated Ellie. How he treated you.

How he wasn’t good with words or how he didn’t know how to show affection. But you knew, regardless of if he put it into words, how much he loved his two girls.

You knew he loved the two of you through the surprises he would bring back from patrol for the two of you. Whether it was a book you had mentioned liking in your childhood or hunting down every last remaining can of Chef Boyardee for Ellie, he showed you. Whether it was the old guitar he had traded to get for Ellie on her birthday or the singular flower he would pick for you ‘just because’, he showed you.

But regardless of the bountiful thanks you both had given him, you can see the doubt pooling in his eyes. The disappointment eating away at him at the thought of not being able to give the two of you more. The constant guilt of his past actions. You knew what he thought of himself and you knew that he didn’t think he could ever deserve you.

You just didn’t share that opinion.

So when you hear the women you were previously conversing with snickering about your boyfriend as you walk towards the exit, something snapped within you.

Slipping your hand from his, you practically march your way back to the women, leaving a perplexed Joel behind, watching from the door of the restaurant. Watching as your hand smacks onto the bar top in front of them, leaning over to sneer at each of them. You didn’t get like this often, preferring kindness, but when you did, Joel couldn’t help but gawk at you.

“You may think you know him,” your voice is as cold as your glare. “But you couldn’t even begin to understand the type of person that Joel is. Might I remind you that none of you have been on the other side of that wall, so you truly have no idea what he does every damn day to make sure that you can sit here on your asses and gossip like small town bitches.”

The women before you go silent, jaws dropping at your words. They hadn’t expected someone like you to snap. But the people of Jackson, especially those that were not on patrol rotation, had no idea what it was like on the outside. You had to do what you had to do, regardless of your sunny disposition. Just because you were usually radiating positivity didn’t mean you wouldn’t bite back when necessary.

You take their lack of a response as an answer. “Next time you want to judge someone based on their first impression, maybe try to understand what they’ve been through to get to this point first. If you went through even a fraction of the shit that the three of us went through to get here, you’d actually think before you spoke.”

“That’s not what we meant–”

“Then what did you mean by the constant glares? The whispering when you think no one can hear you? Running away the second you see him?” You raise your eyebrows at them, challenging them to respond. “Please tell me what you meant, I’m sure you had a great reason.”

Their mouths opened and closed, searching for the words but found none. Still in shock over your outburst.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s keep this from happening again, yeah?” With that, you turn and head towards the door. As you pass Joel, you grab his hand and tug him outside. Once outside, you take a deep breath of fresh air, halting in your steps in effort to calm down your racing thoughts.

“W-What was that?” He asks, equally as stunned as the women that got told off by you.

You shrug. “I don’t like the way they talk about you. Or about Ellie.”

Joel shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest as he stands in front of you. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” you answer simply. “I know how it affects you. How you think about yourself as is. They only make it worse and that’s not okay with me.”

“You can’t blame them,” Joel sighs, rubbing his gloved hand down his face. “They aren’t wrong.”

“They are wrong, baby,” you tug his hands from his face, replacing them with your own by cupping his cheeks. “You have no idea how far from the truth they are, how far you are.”

You thumb his cheeks, a small smile playing on your lips as you think about him. “I know you don’t view yourself in the brightest light, Joel, but you are everything to me. You and Ellie are the best things in my life, I wouldn’t trade the two of you for anything in the world. I would do anything, say anything to make sure that you know how much you mean to me.”

His eyes are glassy as his hands slowly make their way to your wrists, swallowing hard at your words. You know he struggles to hear it, to hear any sort of praise that would go against his thoughts.

“You’re a man of action, not a man of words,” you whisper. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Leaning up on your tiptoes, you press your lips to his. Joel stiffens, not used to the public display of attention. You hold firm, sliding your hands off his cheeks to wrap around his neck in an effort to pull him closer to you. After a moment, you feel him relax, hands shifting to your hips as he molds his lips against yours.

The two of you stay entangled in each other for a few more moments, lips dancing with one other. With one last peck, Joel pulls back, eyes shining as he takes your swollen lips and flushed skin. He looks at you in wonder, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“I love you too,” Joel whispers. “My sunshine.”

And for the first time in a long time, the smile on your face is mirrored on his.

[mikkeneko]

Thinking about the ways that Scum Villain is about dualities, and in some ways the most important parts are in the spaces that are left undefined by those dualities.

Luo Binghe is of course himself a duality of two worlds - human and demon, angel and devil, but he’s also two men, the Luo Binghe of the original PIDW and the Luo Binghe of the new narrative. And Luo Binghe is also both the hero and the villain of his story (and also the love interest.)

But Shen Qingqiu is also a duality. Because he is both Shen Yuan and Shen Qingqiu, also a hybrid of two worlds, and neither of those persons would be who they are without the other half. Shen Qingqiu is also both the villain and the hero of his story (and also the love interest.) 

The story can sometimes feel oddly off-center and unbalanced because Shen Qingqiu, the most confusing and unreliable of narrators, refuses to center himself even in the story that he’s narrating about his own life. His attention is always on Luo Binghe; he is just as obsessed with Luo Binghe as Luo Binghe is with him.

Scum Villain is a story about Luo Binghe in a way that MDZS is not a story about Lan Wangji, and TGCF is not a story about Hua Cheng. If Lan Wangji or Hua Chang had never existed Wei Wuxian and Xie Lian’s stories would have been sadder, emptier, but their stories would still have existed. In Scum Villain, there is no story without Luo Binghe. (And when there’s Luo Binghe but no Shen Qingqiu, that’s when you get Proud Immortal Demon Way, and it’s very bad.)

Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu spend the entire story dancing around each other, changing places and even changing roles, one rising while the other falls, until they finally come in sync together at the end. They create their story between them. Neither of them could have done it in the absence of the other. They circle one another like a binary star, and the gravitational center of the story is the place where they meet in the middle.

[peterparkersnose]

Throne

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: smut, sugar daddy themes (not au), undefined relationship, dominance, teasing, aegon can be such a fucking asshole, guilt tripping, neck play, angst, public pleasuring, punishments (yay), dirty talk, fem!receiving oral, fingering, begging, delayed orgasm, blood play, degradation, aftercare, aegon's ownership of reader

a/n ok ok ok i actually really enjoyed writing this smut. so much. i just love me a good dominant man that does what he wants (within reason ofc we love consent here)

summary Y/N is taught a lesson by Aegon

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read time: 11 mins 1 second

“What is it?” she asked, bursting into the throne room angrily. No bows, no titles, just anger.

Aegon smirked at her devilishly, watching her approach him with such an angsty tone.

“I cannot just simply ask for you to pay me a visit?” he asks, unfolding his legs from the childish position on the Iron Throne and straightening his back.

“I don’t like being torn from my studies just because you wish to see me.”

He laughs out loud, almost mockingly. “A ‘Hello your Majesty’ and perhaps a bow would have done.” Aegon scoffed, staring her body up and down like she was a new shiny toy. He noticed the dress she was wearing; the one he had commissioned for her after she was such a good girl after their previous endeavors together. She earned it- she deserved it. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Aegon said, rubbing his legs until he got to his knees and finally stood.

“Have you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and walking closer to him.

“It’s rude to deny your king of what he wishes. I called upon you nearly an hour ago.” Aegon declares as he skips down the stairs, meeting her halfway and softly grabbing her wrists. He was just as an impatient man as he was a gruesome King. He holds her at arm’s length, looking her up and down once again with hungry eyes. 

“And you are what I currently desire.”

She catches her breath as she stares at him. “You called me out of my studies… for this?”

She stares at him, her heart pounding against her ribcage. The room feels suffocating as if the tension between them has thickened the air. Her initial confusion morphs into a wave of disappointment and frustration, evident in the deep furrow that forms between her brows.

Her disgust was off-putting to him. With a menacing glare, so different from the adoring one he had for her moments ago, he pulled her close and brought his fingers to her chin, and forced her to stare into his gaze. His face contorts, momentarily betraying a flicker of vulnerability, as her disgust pierces through his facial facade. In response, his expression transforms, and his previously adoring gaze is replaced by a cold stare that bores into her soul. “I can do what I want, when I want. I am the King. Do you understand?” 

The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air, a chilling reminder of his position of authority. 

She does not reply, her lips tightly sealed as she gazes into his tired eyes. It looks like he hasn’t slept in days. In fact, it was clear that he hasn't slept in days. The exhaustion seeps into every fiber of his appearance, affecting his posture, his movements, and even the cadence of his voice. His shoulders sag, burdened by the weight of ruling the Seven Kingdoms, and perhaps watching over her every movement. She wasn’t obedient enough yet for his liking, evident by her previous actions of the day. 

“Do you understand?” he asks once again, this time with more anger backing up his tone. Aegon was not one to be denied, especially when he felt such ownership over her. His grasp on her wrists became tighter as his breath now drew on her ears. “You act like you don’t deserve this dress. I had it made for you. Act like you deserve it, love.” 

“I’m sorry…” she whispered, closing her eyes as his words flew through her. She let out a shuttered breath. 

Aegon smirked at her, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. It was a kind smirk to most, but she could recognize the evil behind his mask. “Not good enough,” he groaned. 

“Perhaps you shouldn’t wear it anymore. You are misbehaving, hm? What happens to disobedient girls? Do they get to keep all the presents they were so gracefully gifted?”

Aegon’s hand moved to her neck, softly squeezing it. It didn’t harm her, if anything it would be seen as comforting. But she knew, she knew how Aegon worked. His hand traveled from her neck to her collarbone, touching the stone necklace that rested on her chest. “So pretty,” he whispered, fingering the stone. As he got bored of that, his hand traveled to her neckline. Right between her cleavage, he dipped his fingers under her hem, feeling the top of her breasts. 

She looked beyond him and to the Iron Throne, feeling the oh, so familiar guilt mixed with pleasure wave crash upon her once again. 

Aegon’s fingers moved from her chest, following the hem of the neckline of the dress up to her sleeve, and pushed her left sleeve down exposing her shoulder. “What shall your punishment be?” he asks her, bending over slightly to kiss her shoulder ever so softly. His hand moved to her cheek now, cupping it and forcing her to look at him once again. 

“Punishment? What for?” she asked. He couldn’t tell if she was toying with him or being serious. He let out a cruel little laugh. “For being late to my summoning and disobedient to your King.” he scoffed, stating his words like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“You treat me as such even though I treat you so kindly. Do you know how many coins this dress cost the crown?” he asked, pulling down her other sleeve. She shook her head no.

“More than I pay any one of these useless studs in a year.” he said, looking around at the six guards that stood obediently in the throne room. They all looked the same and sat perfectly still, their only intention to protect this arrogant man and the crown. 

She quite adored the dress. Aegon really did well with this gift, it was spot on to what she wished for. Perhaps above her wildest dreams of what it could be, it most definitely exceeded her expectations from their… their strange agreement. The dress, in every aspect, seemed tailor-made for her. It was neck tied with a few buttons around the back of her neck and with a short sleeve. It was colored a deep gold and bronze. The colors seemed to breathe life into the fabric, casting a radiant glow that shimmered with every movement she made. The neckline plunged, showing off her assets quite nicely. It had beautiful traditional embroidery, one fit for a noble of quite high standings. The waistline, designed with precision and purpose, hugged her curves in all the right places, accentuating her frame with a subtle grace. A bust of gold adorned the ensemble, meeting at her navel and drawing attention to her slender waist, creating a beautiful pattern that enhanced her natural beauty. It was floor length and seemed fit for a Queen. 

“You will behave. Even if I have to teach you a lesson. It’ll do you better than any of those stupid Septas teaching you how to be a Lady.” he whispered to her, now grabbing her hand at her side and entwining his fingers with hers. It was a surprisingly kind gesture, one she didn’t expect from him. 

He led her to stand in front of the Iron Throne, her back to the chair and he stood a step below her. It felt almost wrong, as he was the King and she was just a noble Lady. She looked at him with a confused face, unsure of what he was doing. Aegon had a terrible grin displayed as he looked her up and down once more. Aegon placed his hand on her stomach, pushing her back into the throne. 

“Aegon what are you…”

He shushed her quickly and harshly. 

“You will obey. Do you hear me?”

She nodded. He got down on his knees, reaching out one of his hands for her to place her hand in. He graciously accepted her hand, kissing it slowly, giving each finger its deserved attention. She was flushed, embarrassed at what the guards must have been viewing at that moment.

Little did she know, that was the easiest part of this she would have to endure in terms of embarrassment. 

“Did I ever tell you how pretty your hands are? So gorgeous.” he kissed her palm. “Especially when they are around my cock. That’s my favorite, seeing your pretty little fingers work for me.” 

Her eyes widened as he said these words. A red tint came to her cheeks, but that only made Aegon want more of a reaction from her. 

Aegon dropped her hand, now placing his hands on both of her thighs over her dress. “I want no complaints from your lips. Do you understand?”

She was hesitant to answer him again. Furrowing his brows, he was angered by her rebellion. He grabbed down on her thighs harder now, his thumb trailing dangerously close to her core. His eyes met hers once again, waiting for a response. 

“Mhm,” she whined out, feeling the pressure building between her thighs. 

“Good girl.”

With a sudden movement, his hands left her thighs over her dress. Aegon lifted her legs to his shoulders, each leg resting on each shoulder. He moved his hands to cradle her lower back, pulling her closer to his face. She squirmed, as she did not expect this move from him at all. She didn’t have time to complain. His hands delved under her skirt, pulling at her undergarments and swiping a finger over her bundle of nerves. 

He laughed at her reaction, watching her squirm under his touch was one of his favorite sights. 

“Hold your pretty present for me.” he ordered, speaking sweetly with a hint of cruelty as he bunched up her skirt, holding the expensive fabric in his hands for her to grasp. She listened. 

“B-but Aegon, the guards.” she protested. He looked at her and rolled his eyes, smirking and staring at her with a look that she was the most idiotic woman in the world. “Fuck the guards, my love. Perhaps they’ll enjoy the pretty little noises you’ll make for me. Stroke their own cocks to the memory of your wails after their shift.”

She gasped at his words in shock. Her gasp was followed up with another one, but a pleasurable one. Without warning, Aegon delved his face between her thighs and began lapping eagerly at her cunt. There was no warning, just an over sense of his tongue on her. 

Y/N let out a guttural groan, her hands moving straight to his hair. She pulled ever so lightly, her head resting against the back of the throne as he worked his magic. “But if anyone… if anyone were to see.” she says between breaths, now looking down at his blonde head between her thighs. He stopped momentarily and looked up at her. He licked his lips, as her juices dripped off his chin. 

“Then they will see that I am very obviously busy.”

He returned to his place between her thighs, but this time brought a finger to her and inserted it. 

“Aegon!” she cried out as he did, pushing herself forward and more eagerly into his grasp. She could feel his chuckle on her cunt as he stopped momentarily. He kissed her and continued his multitasking of eating her out and fingering her. His nose sat perfectly within her. It was almost as if his nose was made just for her cunt. 

He works for a while more, he could feel her pulsating around his fingers. This only drove him more mad, as if he was drunk off of her. He inserted another finger, revealing another groan from her that went straight to his cock. He pumped in her faster by the second, he was sure she was going to cum any minute now. “Are you close?”

She nodded eagerly. A smile came to his lips. “Do you want to cum?” he asked, his wrist beginning to hurt with the angle he was pumping his fingers in and out of her. Oh, how he would suffer for her pleasure. 

“Use your words,” he says sharply. “Tell me how you want it.”

“I-I…” she could barely form a sentence. “Tell me,” he ordered her. “Beg for it,”

Her hips rolled against his touch as she cried out for him. “P-please, let me cum.” she whispered out, with all her might she had left. 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, dear.” Aegon teased her cruelly, her words weren’t enough to satisfy his needs. “Say my name like I’m yours, like you fucking mean it.”

“Aegon,” she breathed out, trying her best to keep her eyes open. “Louder,” he demanded. “Say it like you mean it.”

“Aegon!” she blurted out, loud enough for anyone down the hallway to hear her voice. “Just like that, yes.” he praised her, brushing his free hand up her thigh. His touch sent chills down her spine, a foreshadowing of what was about to come. He could feel her heat rising, her climax was definitely near. He kissed her thigh, looking up at her pretty face as she moaned, her head bowed back and her left hand in his locks. This is exactly how he wanted her; this was what she deserved. A fitting punishment for a brat such as herself. 

“Yes, you can do it. Come on my fingers, pretty girl.” he says, moving his fingers to her clit and circling it just as he knew she enjoyed it. She tried to speak his name, but she couldn’t process the syllables to do so. She had used the last remnants of her voice moaning his name only seconds ago as he had requested. Only a strange mutter mixed with a moan came from her. “Oh yes, just like that.” he says, adding now a third finger temporarily, stretching her out. Aegon was pleased by her lack of words. She nods as he does so, with her hands moving from being entwined in his hair to absolutely anything around her. 

Usually, when they were in bed, she would grasp the sheets when she became close. It was something to ground her, making her feel stable in her weak state as she would cum. Now as she was surrounded by swords, there wasn’t much to hold on to. But that thought didn’t occur to her, as she was too obsessed with the orgasm that currently racked through her body. She let out a cry as she stupidly grasped a sword, slicing her finger as she came.

Aegon didn’t notice this at first, all he could do was watch her cunt clamp down on his fingers. He smirked evilly as he kissed her slit once more, then grabbed the bunched-up dress from her waist and made her modest once again. 

She was still breathing heavily from her orgasm, but her eyes were on her now sliced finger. “Fuck,” she whispered. That caught Aegon’s attention. He now stood in front of her, ready to scold her for her language, but then saw her wound. 

“You stupid woman.” he scoffed, grabbing her wrist. He inspected the cut. “How could you be so dumb? Grabbing the Iron Throne?” he asked, looking at her with a certain look of disdain. 

“I suppose you want me to fix it.” he groaned, looking into her eyes. A sense of embarrassment has filled her, more than already had. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. 

“Good. You’ve learned your lesson.” he smiles with dead eyes, his power trip coming to its height as he praised her. 

He takes her finger into his mouth, licking off the blood. Y/N groaned as he did, as his tongue swiped the cut roughly. Aegon enjoyed watching her in pain, swirling his tongue on her cut as he did with her clit just minutes ago. 

After the wound was empty of blood, he swallowed hard. So obviously, letting her know that her blood now rested in his throat. As a way to let her know that he truly does own her. 

“Do you want a bandage? I would hate for that to get infected.” 

He lets go of her hand.

She inspected her now-cleaned cut, but more blood seemed to seep through. Y/N knew all too well that it wouldn’t be that easy with Aegon.

“Do you want one?” he asks her. She nods. He comes close to her once again, grabbing her chin like he did before, and looked into her eyes, their faces only inches apart. “Use your words, love.” he says quietly but dominantly. 

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” he asks, raising her chin slightly.

“Yes, please.”

“Good girl.” he purred once again. Aegon snapped his fingers at the nearest guard, and within seconds a bandage is delivered to him, along with some sanitizing liquid in a vile. The guard returns to his place. Y/N struggled to look the man in the eyes, knowing all six guards heard her moments before. 

He carefully took her hand, treating it with such grace. “Such a shame to see your pretty fingers hurt. Be more careful next time, dear. I don’t like my things to be broken.”

Aegon took some of the sanitizer and placed it on her cut. It made her pull back her hand slightly as she seethed at the pain. “You could have warned me,” she hissed. Aegon rolled his eyes. “Watch your tongue, girl. I am doing you a favor.”

He closed the vile and placed it in his pocket, and began to unwrap the bandage. “Is it too tight?” he asked her, looking up at her with kind eyes. She knew that his care wouldn’t last long, so she enjoyed it while she could. “No, my King. Just right.” she replied. He smiled as she used his proper title, the feeling of love he had for her returning momentarily. Aegon tied off her bandage, lifting her wrist and kissing her finger. 

"There we go," he says proudly, looking from her hand and back to her. Aegon was in awe of what was his. She looked absolutely gorgeous in her post-orgasm state. He huffed proudly.

“All better.”

-

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy @milly-louise @mxtokko

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about my current favorite thing is emphasising JUST how heartbroken Wade is over Nathan still but being fully understanding of it because he's surprised that he agreed to be an undefined relationship with him in the first place.

There's no "Well why don't you just bring your daughter here? I'm open to share you can bring your wife too" it's just... Acceptance.

Acceptance that Nathan is leaving him. "Oh... okay.."

"I had a great time with you, Wade. Don't think I didn't it's just... It's not the same."

".. I know.."

He wipes a tear off his face with his thumb. "It's not why you think.."

"Yeah.." but he clearly doesn't believe him.

"I'm really sorry.. I didn't mean to.. I thought I was going to stay. But I can't. I can't leave my daughter alone like my father did to me." He mutters this last part.

Wade gives a nod. Wow. Here, he was being dumped and abandoned, and still, he was doing it in the hottest way possible. By sticking to his family. Too bad Wade didn't have any family. He wanted one so badly, but it never felt complete. And even when it did, just briefly, he put them all in so much danger that its better to be alone.

But Cable didn't need protection. He could take care himself, and Wade didn't need to worry about him being kidnapped and held hostage.

His voices had begged him not to do it.

Told him to break the damned thing so Nathan could never leave... but he showed him the second he fixed it. Excitedly wrapped it up and gave it to him. He physically handed Nathan his own heartbreak. Presenting the wrist band to him like a proud cat who finally killed that annoying bird its owner complained about. He couldn't keep it hidden. Morally - pft. Yeah, those pesky things - Morally, he couldn't keep Nathan from seeing his daughter. He'd visit and come back. Back to Wade. And for some stupid reason? Wade thought it would stay like this. He thought that by doing the right thing, Nathan would see him as good and love him more..

That was the last time he litsened to that stupid cricket on his shoulder.

"...Bye, Wade." He told him. Even kissed his forehead goodbye. And then?

He left him standing there. Alone.

It's why he has such a hard time believing Logan when he comes around. For months, he paced and worried that once again he's done the right thing too well, Worried that by getting his suit repaired, once again excitedly presenting it to him, a nice little ribbon. Logan had cried when he got it. Hugging him and breaking his ribs.

He waits for him to leave. He waits for him to realize he's not happy here. He waits for him to give him the same speech, but it never comes.

Eventually, he tells him that if he doesn't have the balls to break up with him, then he can just leave. Logan has no fucking clue what hes talking about because he thought things were going well. He dosn't immediately jump to being upset and instead just tilts his head in that stupid little look he does.

"... what's wrong, Wade?"

Triple W. He hates it. Everyone is always asking this, and he can't ever explain why. He couldn't explain such complex emotions that he himself barely understands.

"Turns out.." he starts, looking almost defeated. Small. And tears come to his eyes. "When a guy says you remind him of his wife... it's not a good thing.."

Again, he's confused because Wade would rather not talk about him much. He hurts too much when thinking about it because none of his relationships ever end on respectful terms like that. They either die or dump him, call him nuts, run away. Or... They sit him down.. tell him they're leaving... and then leave.

He doesn't want Logan to be a third. Oh, it was ridiculous how much he loved him. How much he LIKED him. Sure, he had a great time with Nathan, but Logan felt different. He couldn't pinpoint why. He spent hours comparing the two in his head, trying to find WHY Logan was different.

The last person to do this to him, after Nathan, was Vanessa.

Yes, Logan can live forever LOVE him forever, but so could time travelers. Yeah, he could stab Logan and genuinely blow off some steam with him, and he'd be fine, but he was used to being gentle with partners, used to holding back with V. To make sure he didn't hurt her, Ever (well- unless, she asked - but that was different) So why with him did he feel so.. trusting? Was it his smell? Was it the fact that he could be pissed off at him and still make Wade his safe foods? Was it how he snored? How he sat there and endure his bullshit like now? With that pathetic pitiful smile with such big canines and beautiful eyes that he could swim in? WHAT WAS IT?

"...What if she's dead?"

"W-what?" He holds himself tight, stomach turning and hurting with worry, feeling nauseous.

"What if my wife is dead?"

He swallows "That dosn't help your case."

"What if.. You're nothing like my wife?"

Wade glances at him, semi perked up. "...What do you mean?"

"Well.." he starts. "What if this is real?"

Wade tilts his head like a puppy.

"What if... our entire marriage was fake because her power quite literally gave me false memories and forced me to believe all of it was real? What if... what we have IS real?" He mutters, putting his cheek in his hand.

He blinks, processing, smiling, immediately cringing, and crinkling his nose. "OH- Wolvie... ouch....ew." That didn't sound very consensual...

"... yeh.. well.. shit happens."

He hates it when Logan connects with him so much, having something very similar of his own happen.

"So.. we good?" Logan asks.

"Huh?"

"Are we good? Yknow... cleared up the whole... thing?"

"What thing?"

"God really gifted you the memory of a goldfish didnt he? You told me you wanted to break up."

He crosses his arms, pouting. "No! I said If you didn't have the balls to break up with me then leave. I-i can't handle it."

Logan sighs heavily. "Fine. Then Im breaking up with you."

The look of pure shock quickly turns to sadness as he looks away, voice breaking. "..Ok‐ay.."

He rolls his eyes. "What are you doing later?"

"G-gonna cry in my room and eat an ungodly amount of ice cream..."

"....But your lactose intolerant.."

"I said what I said! W-why!? Why do you even care!?" He snaps at him, tears running down his face, clearly having over upset himself with his own mind.

"Hm.. You wanna get dinner instead?"

This one line flips a switch In wades dumb little head as he stares at him with wide eyes. "...Y-you're asking me out? Again??"

"Mhm. Long as you dont have a secret power that brainwashes me into it."

He shakes his head. "I-i dont."

"Promise?" Logan smirks, raising a brow.

"Promise!!"

And just like that he's on his lap, nuzzling all over him and telling him how mad he was at him but also how hot it is, and if they could get pasta for dinner.

The point of this story is that you are loved and your brain is a bitch. You really gonna litsen to a little bitch?? Pssh no. You're stronger then that. Act like it.

[everythingmp3]

please be mine <3

adult!Van x fem!reader

after a horrible week, there is only one person you want to turn to for comfort -but the status of your relationship is confusing, so you hesitate. when you do end up reaching out to her, you are rewarded for your courage.

authors note: I’ll be real, I was going through it and was in the mood for a hurt/comfort thing. it’s not too heavy though, still a decent amount of joy in there! just sth comforting for anyone who might need it <3 (around 6k)

warnings: no explicit smut but nsfw mentions, so still minors dni, very brief discussion of personal issues (some ptsd/anxiety type stuff)

your hands shook as you looked up Vans number in your contacts.

you were beyond exhausted and drained of all energy because the entire week had been one day after the other of feeling on edge and just trying your best to get through it. to survive. so, by Friday evening, you were so deeply lost in your pit of despair, that you saw almost no way of getting out of it. it seemed hopeless.

you had isolated yourself for most of the week, feeling absolutely no desire to see or talk to anyone. except for one person.

as you sat there on your bed, still raw from crying a few minutes before, you couldn’t stop thinking of Van, how badly you wanted to see her.

the entire week you had been haunted by the desire to be comforted by her but you refused to let her see you in that state. you managed to stay away from her and leave her be for five days, but that night you couldnt take it anymore, the pull towards her in your darkest hour was too strong. you wouldn’t push for a meet-up, you would settle for a call, for anything really, as long as you’d get to have her attention for a moment.

the situation with you two was that you had started seeing Van about two months before and it was a "casual" thing, an undefined relationship. it was not just a hooking up thing, it wasn’t that impersonal, you had gone on a good amount of dinner dates, you’d met up for coffee here and there, you’d developed a sense of trust and actually gotten to know each other on a deeper level, but, you kept reminding yourself of what she had told you in the beginning:

she was not looking for a relationship. she was not looking for anything committed, she was not the type of lesbian for 48 hour dates or overly dramatic declarations of love after one date. you were fine with it and never asked her for more than that, but it became complex very quickly when you started seeing her more and more each week, going from once to sometimes three or even four times, and the one thing that made it the most difficult for you was the physical intimacy you shared with her. it was unlike anything you had experienced before.

the sex was never rushed. it never felt like she had called you over just to quickly get off, you often made out for twenty minutes before even undressing. the way you fucked was intense, loving and passionate, always, you sometimes clung to each other in the middle of it, embracing, breathing against each other’s hot skin, sharing a moment of deeply charged silence.

you sometimes had to hold back "I love you"s because Van touched you with such tenderness and care - it had happened more than once that she was between your legs and you had to actively keep yourself from whispering overly sweet things, while she was giving you head like she’d been starving for it all week.

it was hard, to remind yourself that she wasn’t yours, that she could end things at any given time and move on. it was hard not to remember how desperately shed kissed you that night you’d first met, and every time she’d seen you since.

you did not want to scare her off by being too openly attached to her, so you hesitated that night before calling her, but you had nobody else to turn to for solace. so, you called, waiting for her to pick up for a good amount of time, before you eventually heard her. it instantly pierced your aching heart: that familiar sound. her gentle tone when she said "hey", followed by your name.

three seconds into the call, you flushed with embarrassment because you could tell from the surrounding noises that she was out in public, a restaurant probably, that you had interrupted something, so you apologized and said "oh, I am sorry, we can talk when you’re not busy, I will leave you to it".

but Van protested and interrupted you "no hey, come on, there’s a reason you called, tell me". you could hear that she was stepping outside to find a more secluded and quiet area.

"well, uh, to be honest, I had a rough week and I.. just wanted to hear your voice." it was earnest. maybe too earnest. but you were not in the mood to bluff or put up a tough front.

"oh, that’s sweet" Van said after a brief pause, genuinely touched. you didnt know how to continue, so she did "so, what’s going on, what happened this week? are you okay right now?".

you did not want to launch into a full debrief while she was standing on the street, so you said "oh, I won’t make you listen to all that, I just wanted to talk for a second, really" she could tell that you were scared of coming on too strong, being too much for her, so she thought about it for a second before saying "you know what?-" a sudden rush of adrenaline on your part as you waited for her to go on.

"-this dinner I am at is almost done anyway, its been like two hours, so I am ready to leave. where are you right now?" she finished the thought.

at first you were unsure if you were hearing right, so you said "huh? oh, I am just at home". Van’s tone was unbearably soft when she went asked "do you wanna see me?".

you had to be careful not to say "I always do", an echo of desperate "yes"s in your mind when as you tried to sound nonchalant "I mean, yes, but I wouldn’t wanna make you leave your friends for me"

Van waved it off even though you couldnt see her hand over the phone, "oh that’s no big deal really, Ive seen enough of them for one night. I meant to text you yesterday anyway, but something came up"

you found yourself smiling then. "really?".

"yeah really, I missed you, been a while now, huh?". your face felt hot, the words "I missed you" hitting you right at your core, the way she said it so confidently when you had been terrified of telling her that exact thing. it gave you hope, a tentative fragile kind, that she spoke to you that way.

"I did too, yeah" you’d last seen each other a week ago, which was a longer time of seperation than what you were used to by that point. it felt good to admit it, that you thought of her, wanted to have her back. to have it reciporated.

"okay, well, then" Van said, her tone determined and lively "it’s actually so nice out right now, do you wanna maybe meet up at that park near your house? take an evening walk? that could be nice?".

it was an unusually romantic thing for her to suggest, but she was right, you hadn’t noticed it but that fall evening was particularly beautiful, a mild breeze, cloudless skies, a golden light over the city, so you said "sure yeah, I’d like that".

Van didn’t wait long before she said "okay perfect, give me fifteen minutes, alright?" and then said goodbye so she could go pay and leave.

as you put on your jacket and shoes you couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of her abandoning a dinner early to come see you, but that gidiness was accompanied by an ache too, the ache of receiving kindness during a time where you felt like you might never feel okay again. the week had left you wrecked and hopeless, so a simple call with her was enough to remind you just how starved for care you were.

it was a matter of survival to you, to see her, so you felt self-conscious of your need as you made your way to the park.

about a minute after getting to the entrance gates, you saw her walking down the street and felt the sight of her raise your body temperature, immediately.

Van looked both hot and comfortable, the way she always did: dark brown fitted pants, a nice forest green flannel, the top buttons undone to show a bit of her creme colored tank top, a worn out leather jacket on top. she had a way of looking both soft and sexy at the same time, that always got under your skin. your hands tingled with the need to feel her, to touch her, and your wish was granted when she opened her arms for you and said "hey there" while pulling you in for an embrace.

the second she wrapped her arms around your waist and her scent hit you, you felt the urge to completely melt into her.

you forgot about restraint for a second and hugged her much tighter than usual, prolonging the contact instead of playing it cool. Van smiled and rubbed your back for a moment because she clocked, your intensified desire for her proximity, your fragile state of being, the fact that something was wrong, but she was generous enough to let it go unspoken at first. you pulled away and smiled at her as she said "after you" and waved you through the gates before her.

Van was clever. she could read any situation within a minute, so as you started walking down the path that would lead you to a nice lookout spot deeper in the park, she opened the conversation and just let you listen, to offer you a moment of ease before making you talk, search for words that might not come that easily, that might hurt.

you were glad to hear her describe in detail what shed had for dinner, to receive some fresh some gossip about her friends, to be updated how her week had played, she was nothing if not a good conversationalist, so you walked closely next to her and took it all in, gladly, her taking your arm eventually, a gesture that felt familiar in a pleasing way.

the sunset was stunning, you had caught the exact right moment to be out there, just a few other people around and a peaceful soundscape of birds and rustling leaves.

you noticed as you kept glancing at her side profile, that her hair matched some of the foliage around you, that it resembled the orange light too. you felt a rush of adoration for her then and said "you look really pretty right now. your hair.." staring at her without looking away, which made her flush a bit.

Van smiled and said "oh yeah?, I thought I looked kinda rough today", brushing it off but clearly charmed by your compliment.

"no, not at all" you insisted as you both slowed down for a moment and stopped walking "the opposite actually". your usual filter was gone. you were saying things the way they came to mind, no matter how much they revealed the true depth of your true feelings for her. Van did not seem to mind. in fact, she seemed pleased, a squeeze to your arm as she said "thank you, means a lot coming from someone who’s prettier than me. come on, let’s sit" pulling you over to a nearby bench.

you had dressed the exact same way you usually did, so she wouldnt be able to tell that you were doing as badly as you actually were, but Van was too in tune with you body: she noticed.

she noticed that you sat in a way that was a bit hunched over, your voice had seemed more monotone to her than usual, you looked tired to her as you crossed your legs and got comfortable on the bench next to her, so she put a hand on your knee and asked "hey. what’s going on, hm? I’ve never seen you like this, kinda breaking my heart here."

you shook your head and looked into the distance, unsure how to possibly begin to convey what had gone on with you the previous days, so she assured you "come on, I can handle it, tell me please." her concern seemed genuine, her hand was firm but gentle where she had placed it, which only made you feel even more sensitive, but you tried your best to sound composed.

"well. Monday was just the worst day I have had in a good while" you breathed, almost like saying it out loud brought back some of the pain.

Van nodded, her expression changing to an even more serious one then. you went on and told her a bit about what had happened, it had been something nasty related to people you didnt usually talk to much, a dynamic that had given you some ptsd before, and that week there had been a confrontation, a jarring one, which had left you reeling with the past feelings of terror you wished youd never feel again. anxiety so bad you often felt at risk of choking on air.

"after that I just kinda crashed, couldn’t sleep much, couldn’t really eat well, I felt so on edge all week, it’s stupid really.." you admitted, scoffing almost at the sheer absurdity of it all, Van still quiet and solid as she kept her eyes on your face and listened intently, her eyes going softer and softer with worry for you each passing second, which you didnt notice because you were too nervous to hold eye contact.

you both felt a mild breeze on your faces then, almost like an act of mercy from your surroundings, a signal that you were safe to be vulnerable even though you were exposed, in the open.

"yeah I am just so fucking tired honestly. it’s exhausting. and I had no idea who to talk to, who might understand, so..." you gestured at her, signaling that you trusted her, that she held a special place in your heart, even though it was maybe not wanted.

you tried to hold in your tears as you looked at her then, you tried, but she didn’t want you to, Van was desperate for you to feel comfortable opening up to her like that, so she grabbed your hand and said "hey, hey, it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed please, I am glad you called, I wanna be there if I can, really". she meant it. there was a gravity to her tone that got you good, so you broke open and the tears started spilling. you had no idea how to handle it. being treated with such care.

without thinking twice, Van offered you the grace of not having to be looked at while crying: she pulled you into a hug that was even tighter than the one before, her arms higher up on your body then, stroking your hair and cooing at you that it was fine, that you could let it out.

you did not sob. it was a silent kind of crying, the tears spilling down your cheeks in a steady stream, a pained, resigned kind of crying that happens after the worst of everything is over, when despair and horror make way for sadness, the undramatic, quiet but brutal kind.

all the of the memories of the days before where you’d unravelled in your room, shivering not just from the cold but from panic, where you had wanted nothing more than to have her there with you, came rushing back to you, contrasted by the feeling of suddenly having her right there, being granted the wish of not bearing it on your own anymore. finally.

you clung to her jacket, soothed by the smell of the old leather, the feeling of her hands wandering from your hair to your back, rubbing slow circles as she cooed at you and let you cry, signaling that you could take as long as you wanted, that she wouldn’t rush you, not at all.

when you struggled to breathe correctly she urged you "take a deep breath with me, okay?", so you obeyed and took a shuddering breath out, "good, again, come on" she encouraged and managed to slowly calm you down. her body warmth, the chest to chest feeling, her soothing voice, they all worked together as an antidote to your sense of being broken beyond repair. she was mending you. helping you feel alive again, your limbs suddenly stronger again after a minute or so of taking in the fresh air and focusing on nothing but the sensation of her keeping you safe in her arms.

eventually, after the tears stopped and your lungs expanded fully again, you pulled away, sniffling self-consciously. you kept your eyes cast down, but she reached out and tilted your head up a bit to wipe your tears for you, her thumb soft under your eyes, on your cheek, a faint enamored smile from her as she took in the sweet sight of you finally relaxing a bit. her own composure a bit broken down from witnessing you in that state of helplessness.

you took her hand in yours then, a wordless thank you, and kept holding it as she asked for a few more details, since you hadn’t told her that much yet.

Van wanted to understand the situation better and got visibly angry when you told her what people had actually said to you, how they had treated you.

her eyes widened and she exclaimed "what the fuck??" after a particularly ugly detail you shared, which made you backtrack and try to play it down, mumbling something like "it’s okay, really, it’s over now" but she shook her head and said "no, no it’s not okay, that’s awful".

she was almost choked up then when she let go of your hand and leaned back while shaking her head to herself, pissed off at people she’d never met in her life. "fuck." she sighed, "yeah no, this isn’t good" a vague statement that made you turn to her and ask "huh?" afraid youd upset her a bit too much.

"you should have called me when all that happened on Monday, but you probably thought I didn’t want you to do those kinds of things, right?". she wasnt wrong but you didn’t wanna say it outright "uh-" you got out, which was a clear "yes" to her ears, so she moved a bit closer to you again and looked at you, straight on, her eyes a beautiful shade of blue in the remaining sunlight.

"yeah, listen, I wanna take back what I said in the beginning. all that stuff about being casual and what not. I really want you to call or text whenever you want, okay? it is never too much, I always enjoy hearing from you, and I wanna.. you know. be around for the tough stuff too. I have some practice with that, I won’t be shocked, believe me."

you stared at her. processing that she had just told you the exact thing you had been secretly hoping to hear all along, and Van smiled when she was the evident shock on your face, followed by relief and joy, even while you were still a bit teary eyed.

"well, I guess I didn’t wanna make you meet up or talk just to listen all this..." you admitted, which she understood as someone who was averse to sharing her struggles with others.

"yeah, I think I should have sat down and told you this a while ago already, it’s kinda my fault for keeping you guessing, but I do really like you, I need you to know that, this isn’t just a hooking up thing for me, not at all. I care about you."

the verbal confirmation made you feel warm all over, it was thrilling, to have her say it all out loud, to have your feelings of "this is not meaningless" confirmed, mirrored by hers.

"you do?" you asked, a bit in disbelief still. Van smiled and nodded, eyeing you with tenderness.

"yeah. in the beginning, I wont lie, it was just fun, but that didn’t last long. I found myself thinking about stuff like if you’d be cold on your way home or if you’d eaten enough, if you were actually okay or just saying it. I was very close to asking you to stay over a few times" she admitted, grinning, clearly enjoying this newfound honesty she was offering you.

"good. I hoped you would" you said, grinning too, the first moment of you looking genuinely happy that evening, so she leaned over and held your face in place to kiss your cheek, a pleased sigh as you shut your eyes and felt her lips soft against your skin.

Van moved her arm around your back then and held you close as she asked "so, you wanna sleep over tonight then?", an immediate eager nod from you.

"yeah, I really do. I love you place, you know. I always feel relaxed there. could really use that right now". Van was surprised, she met your eyes, "yeah? well and there I was freaking myself out over making you feel uncomfortable or weird when you’re over".

you laughed and rested your head against her shoulder for a second, "never, you’re actually the only person I feel at ease around lately."

Van shook her head and smiled, "stop, I’ll cry too if you keep going". you knew that shed spent a good amount of time on her own before you, so it dawned on you that she wasnt used to it either, the kind of connection you shared.

"yeah, I’ll take good care of you now, don’t you worry, no more of that playing it cool stuff. I can’t" she said and closed her eyes to for a second.

"I will too. you should also tell me when something’s wrong, okay?" you responded, urgency in your tone. Van made a "hmm" sound of agreement and absentimindedly rubbed your arm, a few seconds of quiet before she said

"you know, I made up some dumb lie about why I wanted to leave early and they said "say hi to your girl"" she confessed, her tone playful, you moved your head from her shoulder to look at her then, amused by that thought.

Van nodded "yeah, they started referring to you as that. and I uh.. I have kinda stopped correcting them" an almost girlish, timid smile then, as she gauged your reaction.

you smiled too and leaned in closer to look at her while asking "so, I am the last one to find out I am your girl, huh?". half-joking. but she wasnt joking at all when she said "guess so", satisfaction written all over her face.

you kept looking at her, your eyes roaming over her pretty face, which made Van a bit reckless then, she did not care that you were in public, she didnt care that someone might walk by and see, so she pulled you in for a deep kiss, hands on your face, her lips warm even though the air was cold.

she kissed you the way she always did, with feeling, drawing it out, letting it linger, slow but far from chaste, savoring the sensation of your sighs, your fingers in her hair, your surrender to her sudden need to taste you, feel you, claim you.

once you pulled back, you were both smiling to yourselves, looking around to see if there had been any witnessed, almost dispapointed that there hadnt been, aware that you looked good together. right. like a couple others might be jealous of.

you suddenly realized that she had confessed to talking to her friends about you, so you rested your hand on her shoulder and asked "wait, what did you tell them about me?".

"oh, not much at all, I am discreet" she said, her tone low and suggestive, messing with you a bit, so you nudged her and said "sure, right".

Van thought of something then and laughed, "I mean, there were a few times where I was itching to spill though, I won’t lie".

that piqued your attention, you leaned in closer, "yeah? like what?".

"well.. one of them kept complaining about how the person she’s seeing is kind of aloof and stand offish with her. and I really wanted to say something like "the girl I am seeing begged me to sit on her face the second time we saw each other. so. tough luck.""

she watched you closely for your reaction and got exactly what she wanted, you flushed and slapped her leg lightly, uttering "stop.", trying to act scandalized by her crass way of putting that, but clearly flattered by it.

Van let you sit in that feeling for a second, her demeanor light and playful, before she added "sorry, I’d like to brag a bit, I guess, but don’t worry, I won’t".

you were in the mood to mess with her a bit too, so you said "well, that wasn’t just a favor I was doing for you." invoking your eagerness to please, which had been part of her deep attraction to you, how hungry youd been for her.

Van nodded "oh, I am well aware, you had a fucking death grip on my thighs." teasing you as the memories came back to her, and you too, how much of a mess shed been by the end of that night, you could tell she was turned on, so you mimicked the motion shed referred to by squeezing her thigh, her face a shade pinker the second you did that, her smile vanished, replaced by that look she always got when you came onto her.

"wanna go home, hm?" you whispered to her, your hand still on her. Van was charmed by your sudden implicit offer to please her, but she wouldnt just accept it, so she answered "yeah, I do. but you had an exhausting week, so I think it might be your turn to lay back and relax tonight, hm?" she said, reaching out to touch your neck, caressing it lightly, your eyes shut for a second, your breath hitched as you said "okay, yes. I would gladly give though, even now."

Van left her hand on your skin for a moment longer, pleased by your reaction, "yeah, I know. you’re a bit too good for me, I fear".

a few moments later you got up and left the park just before the sun fully set behind the horizon. as you walked, Van took your hand instead of your arm, a subtle shift in vibe that you noticed, that made you happy, your fingers laced through hers, the way they had been before but mostly only during sex up until then.

it felt natural, to behave like a couple, you both felt it, nothing about it seemed awkward or too intense. it seemed like you were both relieved to stop pretending that you liked each other less than you did. a few deep breaths from each of you.

as you exited the park, you looked at all the leaves on the ground and thought that it was ironic, that spring was supposed to be the season of rebirth, blooming romances and coming back to live, when to you that moment, that year’s fall was the season for all of thst: its colors, the orange, gold, and bright fire, the shade of her hair, the way it had looked that evening, they were going to be a lasting symbol of you finding your way out of the feeling of death. being quietly reborn.

Van had looked like a kind of saint figure to you, when she sat on that bench with you, backlit by the setting sun, radiant, the face of salvation. you were blissfully lost in dramatic, sentimental thoughts like that, as you sat in the passenger seat of her car - a brief loving brush of her hand over your cheek when she stopped at a light and saw how much lighter your expression seemed, than when she had greeted you earlier.

once you were back at her place, Van quickly went around the living room to light a few candles, to make it cozy, which delighted you, the domesitcity of it, a kind you hadnt really shared before.

before you could get comfortable on the couch, you gaze fell onto something on the coffee table that made you pause: a book that looked very familiar to you.

you reached down to pick it up and the second you recognized the title, a deeply smug look settled on your face.

you couldn’t believe it at first, but it was the book you had mentioned to her the last time you’d seen her. youd told her in passing that you were really into it, that you were looking forward to finishing it, and there it was.

you saw that the bookmark was near the end of the book, so she’d already read it almost all the way through within just a week or so.

when Van saw what you were holding in your hands and smiling at, she froze up for a second, before saying "oh... yeah", a bit embarrassed but soothed by the joy you obviously took in your discovery, the evidence that she was trying to figure you out, thought of you in you absence.

you turned to throw her a teasing look "casual, huh?".

she walked over and sat down on the couch, a self-aware smile, "so casual, yeah."

you put the book down again and said "that makes me think of something actually." which made her perk up, "oh yeah? come on then, tell me", patting the empty space next to herself on the couch.

you sat down and nuzzled yourself against her, your side pressed against hers, your hand in her lap, her arm around your shoulder, bodies in tune, as always.

"well. we ran out of soap in our apartment recently, and when I was in the store I bought the kind you have because it reminds me of being here. of you."

a touch of shyness to your tone as you said that last part, a moment of stunned silence on her part when you added "I mean… I also saw your perfume in your bathroom before, so I know the name and was kinda close to buying a sample on time... but that seemed a bit too intense.".

that made her smile even wider and say "hmm. so just the soap then, yeah?" a squeeze to your shoulder, unable to conceal that she clearly loved it, the fact that you were that hopelessly into her and had no problem admitting it. a relief too, to know that both of you had been kind of obsessed in secret.

"yeah, just that.." you said and ran your fingers up and down her thigh absentmindedly, your cheek resting against her side.

"thats really fucking sweet." she laughed, "damn, look at us", a kiss to the top of your head, a gesture she’d never offered before, a warmth in your chest. you held onto her tighter then.

"we could swap samples, how about that?" Van said, "I love your scent too to be honest, I wouldn’t mind having it around when youre not here".

"hm, yeah deal" you said, nodding, followed by a quiet laugh, which made her nudge you, so youd look at her. "what?" she asked, searching your face for a clue.

"oh, it’s just. a few days ago I cried over the idea of you getting tired of me eventually, so yeah... I am glad I was freaking myself out for no reason"

Vans eyes were wide then, her tone higher pitched, "what?? don’t say that, no. you cried over me?.. that’s awful." she pulled you closer by your legs then, draped them over her lap, held onto you as if she was scared youd vanish.

"I need to make up for that then, making you think that that was possible" she said before leaning in and covering your face in kisses, overdoing it on purpose, holding you in place until you started giggling from the sudden dramatic gesture of affection.

after she pulled back, she said "you know, I am actually more possessive than I come off." that made you perk up, "really? go on", batting your eyelashes at her theatrically to spill whatever it was that she was thinking of. Van hesitated for a second, then she cleared her throat.

"well. this is kinda pathetic actually.. but I found myself being less friendly to some customers lately and thought what the fuck is my problem?? and then I realized that the ones I was being kinda cold to were students. there’s only one campus around here of course, so.. I realized it came from me subconsciously wondering if any of them might have hit on you before, or you know… been with you"

Van left out the part where she had looked at the bruise you had left on her chest the last time youd been at her place about a hundred times to remind herself how badly you wanted her, to soothe her anxious thoughts of you with others.

you laughed, genuinely, not having expected that from her at all, a tap to her chest as you eyed her with a sparkle of joy and said "oh damn, all of that hidden in there. thats kinda hot". she smiled and shrugged, "what can I say. guess I was a bit in denial about how much I liked you."

you were a bit stunned by how ideal the evening was playing out, almost like you were being rewarded for the way you had powered through some of the worst days of your life.

"but you will be glad to hear that I never got with anyone at college before, so" the relief on her face then was funny to you, she didnt even try to play it cool when she said "no? oh thats good to know".

you held onto her neck then and whispered "just you since I moved here. I am devoted". you worded it a bit dramatic to amuse her, unaware what the word "devotion" did to Van, how much it meant to her in the context of romance and sex, the idea of being devoted, you could see some of it in her eyes then, the fact that youd hit a soft spot in her.

she stared at you and asked "yeah?", almost begging to hear more. you nodded and made a "hmm" sound of agreement as you leaned in and kissed her neck, a shudder from her as you did, a few lingering kisses over her pulse point before you sighed "I only thought about you. ever since we met. that night."

her fingers clung to your shirt, on your back, as she nodded and said "me too.." her eyes shut, her voice cracked with the pleasure of feeling your breath on her sensitive skin.

you couldn’t help but feel her up then, turned on from her familiar act of surrender to your touch, you started feeling her up through her clothes, your hands roaming over her body, squeezing here and there, eliciting a few pretty moans from her, the kind that always pushed you further.

you kept whispering to her, "I dreamed about you so much this week.", her breath increasingly heavy, a neediness to her that almost made her take her clothes off for you. she couldn’t do much besides sink into the feeling of having you all over her until she grew too hot from it and gently pushed you off, asking, "baby, I thought I was gonna be the one taking care of you tonight, hm?" her face flushed, her eyes wandering down to where you were caressing her.

she’d never called you that before, the pet name hung in the air between you, only adding to the tension.

"well, can’t help it" you mused, "but yeah, I’d like that. you wanna help me relax, hm?" you tried gauge if she really wanted to please you or if she was just saying it out of a feeling of obligation, because youd had a rough few days, but she nodded immediately and said "yeah. yeah I really do. I missed it."

you held her hand and agreed, brushing her hair out of her face for her and admiring her for a second. Van bathed in the light of your close attention for a moment, before she asked "do you feel a bit better now? genuinely? I was really worried earlier".

"yeah I do, thank you, for offering to meet up, and all of this, really. it means a lot, I feel much better than even a few hours ago".

your quiet, serious way of saying that got to her. Van wasn’t used to it anymore, being needed, and a few months before it might have terrified her, the idea of letting someone depend on her, but with you, in that moment, it felt like she was finally doing something right. like she had for once followed her heart in the exact right way. she was serious about it too when she responded "from now on, reach out to me when something’s the matter, okay? please."

the "please" almost made you tear up again. "yes. I will. thank you."

"no need to thank me for any of this, really. any time. I just wanna make sure you’re okay" she assured you, embracing you again after, the third time that evening, that particular tough lighter and less urgent than the ones before, both of you silently melting into each other, as the candlelight offered an almost religious, spiritual setting for the night that marked the end of the era where you kept your distance.

"come on, let’s get you out of these clothes" Van said eventually and pulled you up from the couch to lead you to her bedroom.

a few minutes later you were fully undressed, laying in the dark, on her bed, as she kissed her way down your body, slowly, reverence in her touch, taking her time with each kiss, "hm" sounds whenever her lips met your skin, an overwhelming sense of protectiveness and affection radiating from her.

eventually, she settled between your legs and brushed her cheek against your inner thigh, looking up at you with soft eyes, her voice full of everything she hadn’t allowed herself to tell you before when she said "Im all yours." holding your gaze as you nodded and pushed your fingers into her hair, whispering "I am too." overflowing with love. the word you hadn’t said out loud before but already felt. both of you.

Van ate you out for a good while, an even deeper sensuality to it than the times she’d done it before, her hands reaching for yours whenever she wasn’t caressing your sides or your chest, her movements slow and drawn out but intense, infused with the need to make sure you were fully relaxed by the end, which worked; all the stress and tension your body had held onto for the days before left your system as you laid there and let yourself be tended to, felt her mouth on you, reminded of your desirability, your capacity for opening up, even after having been hurt to your core, a rush of heat that reanimated you, fast.

it was emotional, to feel the pleasure she was giving you drive out the ache that had consumed you, she could tell from the sounds you made, so she held you in place and made you feel good until you were fully spent and at ease, ready to take a shower with her, before snuggling up and savoring the first night of sleeping next to her.

Van pulled you close to herself under the covers and kept her arms firm around you as you both fell asleep, a glow to the both of you, a simultaneously thrilling and soothing echo in your mind as you drifted off while listening to her heartbeat: "she’s mine. she’s mine. she’s all mine."

you didnt think "I am hers". that night because it was not new to you. that feeling. you had been all along. from the second she first touched you.

[willowser]

continuing with the vibe from earlier, pre-whatever canon dabi is truly, genuinely just horrible.

a surface glance wouldn't show anything more than an acquaintance-ship, but there's just something weird and different in the way you two are around each other. it's not super often, but when you are, you either enjoy a content silence or share a conversation that's only just riveting enough to keep you both present.

you ask him things about himself that he doesn't want to answer, that he refuses to, but you just kind of roll your eyes and try to hide your smile when he says something smart in response. you share a drink or two. a glance that feels too curious. there's not enough touching involved to be considered significant, but at one point you share the same breath and the air is so immediately tense and severe that you know you've crossed some kind of line no one else has with him.

but—it's undefined. unacknowledged, in truth, and dabi doesn't ever approach you on his own, nor does he give you his attention if he can keep it to himself. it's entirely too confusing, but what could you expect from a man of his status? asking for any clarification would only give you the kind of harsh end you don't want.

you leave it alone, for the most part. let it grow when it can, but you don't overdo it; if you and dabi happen to find yourself at the same club at night, you'll share a wave and maybe even have a quick chat with him outside as he smokes a cigarette.

which is exactly what you intend to do—before a man buys you a drink at the bar.

he's handsome and flirty enough that you let him, entertain his small talk and laugh at the cheap, somewhat raunchy jokes he tells you. it's all genuine, and while dabi is still lingering at the back of your mind—at the back of this club, somewhere—you allow yourself to be appreciated in the way a normal man would. not some wordless cat-and-mouse game that's too confusing to be even a little upset about.

you don't even know where dabi went, when the man excuses himself to run to the bathroom, and you do peek around for him. you really do want to have a quick chat before either of you leave because you don't know when it will be that you see him again, and you like to make the most of your chances. there's some thrilling side of you, too, that wonders if he even cares at all about the drink in your hand, or the man who bought it.

that question is answered—wordlessly, as always—in a horrific fit of chaos.

a thick cloud of smoke spreads through the club like wildfire, bringing screams of terror and a panicked mob with it. people are trampling over themselves to get from one side of the building to the doors; drinks are being flung and shoes are being lost and some are even on their knees, vomiting.

dabi follows the crowd lazily, lit cigarette in hand. there's a frightening char to his fingers that you know didn't come from just that, but he passes you without saying anything. only staring, tense and severe, before shuffling out with the rest.

and you finally see, at the back, the remains of your flirty, handsome man: whole, for the most part, except for the partfectly shaped handprint that's been seared through to his skull.

[orange-orchard-system]

It's so wild to me sometimes that people cling so hard to the idea of having specific relationships automatically meaning that you are "healthy" in some undefined way. Maybe it's just because I grew up with a lot of "the popular kids are actually unhappy" stories as a child, but it's not actually the amount of relationships, kinds of relationships, or desire for relationships that indicates "health" – it's whether someone's social needs are being met.

The problem is that no one actually talks about social needs; when you get into the specifics, you find so, so much stigma. And so what happens in the end is that we end up with a lot of people equating their needs being met with the main method(s) they've been taught to meet them.

Attention – so stigmatized it feels like a crime. Socialization – poorly understood and mistaken for socializing. Support networks – wrapped up in so many expectations and rules that accessing it as a resource can be ridiculously difficult. Community resources – look, if I took a shot every time I saw this phrase thrown around with no elaboration or examples, I'd be dead by now. Interpersonal connection – now we're getting somewhere, but I bet most still confuse this for having specific flavors of relationships, don't they?

We don't talk about needing attention in a destigmatized way. We don't talk about the difference between socialization and socializing. We don't talk about what it means to have a support network or how to build one, except maybe as far as people assume "You have family and friends you can ask for help, right?" We don't talk about what community resources are or how they can be created, shared, and accessed. We don't talk about interpersonal connection in general, especially without immediate attempts to categorize such connection into specific relationship flavors.

Instead, what we talk about is sex, romance, friendship, and family, and the categories these relationships are sorted into: sexual, romantic, platonic, and familial. Doing so in favor of specificity, however, muddles the actual problems people face with their social needs, and prevents proper solutions from being considered. The popular kids with lots of friends can still end up lonely; the adults in their "perfect" marriages can still feel unfulfilled. Despite checking all the boxes on socially acceptable relationships, people can end up without their social needs being met.

Am I going to explain all these individual concepts today? Am I going to speak about my first draft ideas on how we could potentially fix these problems referenced in this post? Not a chance; I'm too busy right now to write essays on these things. But I want to introduce this seed of a thought to people's heads; we need more discussion about social needs as something separate than the idea of "you must actively desire, pursue, and partake in these specific cultural categories of relationships with other people", because otherwise, we don't actually address the needs of the people, and can't help all the people out there who struggle to meet those needs on their own. We need to dig deeper to move forward.

[lonelym00n]

There's no one else I'd rather kidnap

Part 2 of The Devil Likes the Pirate Series

Tara Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Summary: At the diner, Tara catches you up on what happened at the party. A surprise guest cuts things short.

A/N: I can't believe how well the first part of this did! It makes me so happy to know that people actually like these silly little fics of mine. I was debating on posting this tomorrow instead, but it's more fun to do it now, so here you go!

After an undefined amount of time spent enduring what you’d classify as one of the highest forms of torture (Tara’s relentless teasing), you finally felt as though you could stand without immediately collapsing. You rose slowly and gathered your belongings before turning to face the impish girl, “I feel disgusting. I’m gonna head back to my dorm, shower and change, and then we can go.”

As you turn to leave, she calls out in a tone that you can’t quite identify. Distressed maybe? “Wait!” 

You whipped around to face her and immediately regretted the rushed movement as the pounding from earlier returned to your head. You clutched your head and swore under your breath. “Yes?”

She looked hesitant and unsure, but you were in too much pain to even attempt to question her odd behavior. She bit her lip in contemplation before she spoke, “I should come with you to your room.” 

Your face scrunched up in confusion and you scanned her face puzzledly. It was a bit of a weird thing for her to say and you might’ve even ventured out to ask why, but the hints of anxiety and unease in her expression made you bite your tongue. Seeing no reason for why she couldn’t come with you to your room, you nodded, “Yeah sure.” You thought for another second before groaning aloud, “God I hope my roommate isn’t there. She sucks.”

Tara was visibly relieved that you didn’t turn down or question her abnormal request. She sprung up from the bed, retrieved a tote bag out of the closet, and scrambled around the room to collect a few articles of clothing and her phone. Once she was done scurrying around, she turned towards you and gestured in the direction of the door. “Lead the way.”

You hummed as you opened the door and recognized the building you were in as the one just next to where you resided. The two of you made the short trip over to your building and quickly appeared in front of your door. You knocked twice and let out a quiet cheer when no response came from inside the room. You unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The room you had been placed in was slightly bigger than most of the other freshmen dorms, something that had you very excited when you read about it on the admissions website. Even better than that, you were one of the lucky few to have a small bathroom attached to your room. You loved your room because it made you feel like you had won the lottery. Well, you did get the short end of the stick on the roommate side of the equation, but that’s besides the point.

You and Tara stepped into the room and you closed the door and turned the lock shut once you were both safely inside. Her weird mood from earlier reappeared for a second at the click of the lock, but it disappeared swiftly as she swept her gaze across the room. Her mischievous grin returned and she quirked a brow, her eyes twinkling. “Which side is yours?”

You held your breath as you pointed to your side of the room. You hoped she didn’t find anything too embarrassing to tease you about, but secretly, you were more worried about if she’d like your decorations. You didn’t have anything out of the ordinary, the decor mostly consisting of posters displaying musical artists you liked, a few pieces of pottery you had painted, a small collection of books, and the stuffed teddy bear you had smartly named Mr. Hugs. 

She turned towards you once she finished her investigation. She gave you a thumbs up, signaling that your living space had passed the unspoken test of what she thought of your interests.  “You have good taste. Well done.” 

You smiled at the praise and internally jumped for joy at her approval of your room. “Pleased to hear it, Inspector Tara.”

She broke into a fit of laughter at your goofiness. “My god you’re such a dork. Had I known you were a nerd I would’ve chosen someone else to kidnap last night.” Despite your want to be (fake) offended, you couldn’t hold back a grin at the mention of what the two of you were referring to your odd predicament as.

Your face twists into a smirk as you lightly slap her shoulder and scoff, “Oh please I’m way better than anyone else you could’ve picked.”

She pretends to think for a second, “Hm nope, definitely not.”

You roll your eyes playfully at her response. “Whatever loser, you’re the one stuck with me now.” She pokes her tongue out at you and you flip her off in return. 

“Welp,” you clap, “I’m gonna shower and get ready, feel free to make yourself comfortable wherever you like.”

You smile at her and pad over to the bathroom. Once you’re in the solitude of the shower, you grin like an idiot. Tara’s easily the prettiest girl you’ve ever talked to and while you still don’t remember the events of last night, you are grateful for whatever you’d done to end up in her company. Like a lovesick puppy, you think of her throughout the entirety of your shower. 

You finish up quickly and dress yourself into the clothes you had picked out for yourself. You went through your post-shower routine relatively quickly and paused before you exited the bathroom. You could just barely make out Tara’s soft voice speaking hurriedly. You slowly opened the bathroom door, making sure she noticed that you were about to leave the bathroom before reentering the room. 

The sight of her half laying half sitting on your bed made a spark of joy shoot up your spine. The two of you exchanged small smiles as she exchanged her goodbyes to whoever she had been conversing with on the phone. You grabbed your shoes and perched on the edge of your bed as you pulled them on. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin as her hand reached out and lightly stroked through your hair. You turned crimson at her action and she bit her lip in delight at the sight of your darkened cheeks. She removed her hand and at your questioning look, sat up fully on the bed. “What?” she asked nonchalantly. “Your hair looks really soft when it’s wet.” 

You tried your best not to gape at her. Nervously laughing, you cleared your throat before speaking, “Oh, thanks.” You look up at her to find that she’s already eyeing you with a gentle gaze. Your heart thuds so loud as you maintain eye contact that you swear she can hear it. Deciding to break the silence you clear your throat again, “Well, uh, feel free to use the bathroom to change or get ready, if there’s anything along those lines that you want to do before we go.”

She shoots you a double thumbs up (you have half a mind to laugh at her strange affinity to keep reusing the gesture) and you watch as she strides into the bathroom with her tote bag firmly in hand.

She gets ready swiftly and without a hitch, the two of you begin the short walk towards the small diner located just off campus that she tells you she frequents. 

When her hand reaches out to interlace her fingers with yours, you definitely don’t blush at how perfect it feels to hold hands with her.

***

The start of your meal follows the same pattern that the earlier hours of the day held. The two of you pass jabs back and forth and she grins in delight whenever she catches the red hue that rises up in your cheeks. It’s not until your food arrives that the reason behind the two of you coming to the diner is brought up.

Tara’s expression hardens as you finally ask her to relay the events of last night to you. She sighs deeply and chews into her lip nervously. 

In an attempt to comfort her, you place your hand on top of hers. “Tara,” you speak gently even though you’re unsure of why she looks so nervous, “It’s okay, I won’t be mad or weird about whatever happened. You helped me, hell you even let me stay in your room for the night. You can tell me.”

She sucks in a breath and turns your joined hands over to wordlessly play with your fingers. It seems to calm her down as she opens her mouth to inform you of what happened. “Okay. Well I have no idea how you got there, so I can’t help you remember that part.” You nod in understanding.

She continues, “I was watching my friends dance and teasing them for how horrible they are at it.” She laughs softly to herself at the memory. “Anika caught you watching us and she said she thought you were looking at me. It was hard to tell because you were so far away and tucked into a corner of the room.”

You blush for the millionth time, of course your drunk self had been way too obvious about checking Tara out. “Anika waved you towards us and when I thought you were finally gonna make your way over, some douchey frat guy wearing an angel costume wrapped his arm around you. My friends and I were kind of shocked at the sight, especially Mindy because she swore you were giving her “vibes”.”

She wiggles her eyebrows at the mention of your “vibes” and you look away, laughing to yourself at the thought of one of her friends catching onto your sexuality. “Anyways, it seemed like you and the guy were together. I thought it was a little off considering you had just been blushing at having been caught watching us, but the two of you were matching so we just assumed we had the wrong idea earlier.”

You nod, “That makes sense. So what happened next?”

She suddenly looks hesitant again and you curl your fingers even tighter around hers and give them a reassuring squeeze. You furrow your brow. Despite offering your reassurance to Tara, you were starting to get a little nervous yourself. She begins again, slowly, “He pulled you somewhere, I couldn’t see where. We went back to dancing but I couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong, so I kept glancing around to see if I could spot you again. When I did, you were standing with him and a whole group of guys. They were laughing so loudly about something, but the guy wearing the angel costume was leering down at you so creepily. You didn’t notice, I think you were looking around the room.”

Your chest feels tight and you hope that you are wrong about what you think might’ve happened next. 

“I saw that you were drinking out of a cup and that’s when I got really worried. You couldn’t stand still, you looked like you were about to topple over any second. You looked really really drunk, Y/N, and compared to how you had looked when we caught you watching us earlier, you were about a hundred times worse.”

Tears brimmed your eyes at what you were being told. Tara notices and joins her empty hand with your own. Her hold on you is so gentle yet so firm and it feels as though she’s your only anchor in what is quickly becoming a terrible storm. You mumble for her to tell you the rest, and she does, paying close attention to your face. 

She speaks so softly, like one word spoken too loudly will cause you to crumble. “I don’t know if he put something in your drink or if it was just made way too strong. But when I realized what was likely going on, I told Anika and Mindy and they agreed that we needed to get you away from him. We tried waving to get your attention but you didn’t catch on to it. The guy started dragging you towards the stairs and we were all so scared. My friend Chad was with us and when we told him what was going on he stormed over to cut the boy off.”

You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore and they started flowing freely down your face. You could feel your lip trembling and Tara got up to slide into your side of the booth, pulling you into a hug. She whispered tiny words of comfort into your hair while she waited for your tears to slow. Once they did, she pulled back slightly to wrap up the night’s events, “While Chad and the boy shoved each other, I pulled you away. We tried to ask you if you knew the guy or if you had any friends at the party, but you were so out of it that I don’t even know if you knew what we were asking. The only piece of information we got out of you was your name. We left the party and took you outside and that’s when we decided that one of us would just have to take you in for the night. I volunteered to stay with you because after everything that I saw, I needed to make sure you were okay.”

You hug her tighter, silently expressing all that you were feeling. 

“On the walk back, it was like the last sober part of you drifted away completely. That’s when you started openly flirting with me and let me tell you, you said some pretty interesting stuff.”

You let out a watery laugh at your own drunken expense. Tara laughs with you and her hands delicately reach up to smooth your tears away. You gaze at her and you don’t care if your eyes give away your every emotion, because in this moment you are so entirely grateful for the girl sitting in front of you.

After a long while, you turn your head and slowly press a shaky kiss to the hand lightly stroking your cheek. She makes no move to stop running her hand along your face. You enjoy her touch too much to ever even consider asking her to put a pause to it. 

Taking a deep breath, you prepare a response to all that she’s told you. “Tara, I can’t even begin to tell you how thankful I am that you were there. That you noticed what was going on. I mean without you I could’ve been… I-” You exhale steadily and continue, “You literally saved me from experiencing one of the worst things and you didn’t even know me. I feel so stupid that I wasn’t looking out for myself, but for some reason, you were. And I’ll never be able to repay you for that or even tell you how much it means to me.”

Unshed tears sit in both of your eyes and Tara scoots impossibly closer to you. “You don’t need to thank me. I’d do it all over a thousand different times just to be sure I wouldn’t have to see you get hurt.” 

Something about how she says the words makes you think they might mean something a bit more to her, but you don’t comment on that. Instead, you’re more focused on how her eyes are darting from your eyes to your lips. “You’re the only thing that I remember from that party Tara. And I can’t help but think it’s for a reason.”

You lean so closely into her that you’re able to count every freckle that’s splashed across her face. Your nose bumps gently into hers and you wait with bated breath to see if she’ll close the gap between your lips. Just as she’s about to, her phone buzzes incessantly, signaling the inflow of a large amount of notifications.

You go to pull back, thinking you’d either gotten the wrong idea or that the moment had been broken, but she stops you from moving away with a hand nestled softly into the hair at the nape of your neck. She inches closer to you and when your lips finally do meet, it feels as though the storm of emotions that this girl brings out in you has churned to an all time high. 

Your lips crash into each other repeatedly and you don’t even think Moses could pull you away from the addictive taste of Tara’s lips. Her phone continuously buzzing from its spot in her tote bag goes completely ignored by the two of you. 

Annoyingly enough, you do need oxygen eventually. You gently push away from Tara but make sure to press your lips together once more before fully exiting her space. 

Tara looks uncharacteristically shy, wearing a soft smile that accentuates her endearing dimples. Her nose wrinkles cutely as you softly bop her on the nose. 

Her expression shifts slightly and it seems as though she’s deep in thought. You wait patiently for her to bring up whatever is on her mind. Just as she goes to speak, the diner’s doorbell rings and out of the corner of your eye, you can see someone speeding towards your booth.

You and Tara whip your heads in the direction of the heavy stomps. You are met with the sight of someone who looks strikingly similar to Tara. 

The woman slams her hands down on the table, making the silverware fly up into the air at the force. You flinch and Tara groans, her face twisting up in frustration.

“What the fuck Tara!” The woman is so clearly pissed off. You can see how her whole body trembles with her anger. 

Tara sighs deeply, “Sam look-”

The woman cuts her off, “No Tara, seriously what the fuck do you think you’re doing? I went to check on you last night and found Mindy and Anika in your bed. You weren’t anywhere to be found and I texted you and called you so many different times throughout the night and you didn’t answer once! I couldn’t sleep at all, I was worried sick thinking something had happened to you!” 

The woman, Sam you think Tara had called her, is breathing raggedly and there’s a noticeable streak of panic in her eyes. “And then when I finally catch wind of you, it’s from overhearing you tell Mindy you were going out to a diner. I searched every diner in the city to find you Tara and you what, try to offer me a simple explanation?” 

Tara’s level of frustration has raised exponentially throughout Sam’s rant. She’s practically vibrating in her seat and your eyes widen at the situation you’re caught in the middle of. Her teeth grind together and a wild look that rivals Sam’s appears in her eyes. “God Sam if you would ever let me speak and would stop being so goddamn overbearing all the time, maybe I could actually speak to you and have a normal conversation about things for once! I don’t owe you any explanation at all for what I choose to do Sam, this is my life! You can’t control me every second of every day!”

Sam gets impossibly angrier. “Are you serious? You know why I care so much about where you are so don’t even go there! And I don’t want to control you! I’m only trying to protect you!” 

Sam turns to look at you and you avert your eyes so fast it’s possible you could’ve gotten whiplash. She laughs in disbelief. “While I’m worried sick about you all night fucking long you’re doing what, having a hookup? Seriously Tara, that’s what you’re choosing to do after everything?”

Your eyes flash with hurt and you recoil as if you’d been slapped. You feel so small under Sam’s scrutinizing gaze.

Tara stands up from the booth and shoves Sam upon hearing her words. “God shut up Sam! You have no idea what you’re talking about.” She glances apologetically at you over her shoulder for a second before she spins back around to face Sam, a whole separate wave of fury taking over her small form.

You can only gulp and try to press yourself into the cushions of the booth.

Sam laughs again, this time flinging her arms up into the air. “Oh really? Because I sure as hell think I do! Let me guess, after knowing that girl for one day, you’re already so damn smitten that you’re willing to look past any the signs that might point to her being an absolute lunatic, just like you did with-”

Tara’s face hardens and her jaw clenches so hard it might shatter. “Don’t!” She practically barks the word out as her finger presses into Sam’s chest. 

Sam doesn’t heed the warning, too far gone into whatever rage she has slipped into. “Amber, Tara!” She shouts the words into her sister’s face. “Just like you did with Amber!”

You don’t expect what comes next, and it seems Sam didn’t either. Tara’s hand flies up out of nowhere and lands an open palm smack right onto Sam’s cheek. 

Sam gasps and a few tears of shock roll down her face, not even beginning to sooth the burn that spreads across her pulsing face. She goes to say something, her words finally catching up to her but Tara viciously cuts her off. “Get the fuck out Sam,” she spits out the words. “Go outside and wait for me to come out.”

Sam complies, though she stubbornly attempts to apologize again, “I’m so-”

“Get out Sam! Now!” Sam finally trudges out of the diner, hand clutched against where she’d been slapped.

Tara takes a few minutes to calm herself down. You brace yourself, unsure of what was going to come next. 

She’s facing you again now and you do the only thing you can think of. Your arms open and you let out a small oomph when Tara’s body slams itself into your embrace. She buries her face into your shoulder for a long moment and in a reversal of the events of this morning, you’re now the one soothingly rubbing her back. 

She cries into you and your heart breaks at the way the sobs wrack through her whole body. Once she has stopped crying, you allow her to pull away.

She looks so exhausted from her fight with Sam. “I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

You shush her, “Don’t be sorry baby.”

Her eyes brighten a tad bit at the pet name. “Sam is my incredibly protective older sister,” she explains and you nod, “There’s a whole lot more to that story than I can even begin to say right now.”

You rush to speak, “You don’t owe me an explanation about anything. You can do that some other time.”

She smiles in appreciation but frowns shortly after. “Look, I have to go. I’m gonna go home with Sam, avoid her for a day or two to make her feel guilty, and then I’ll maybe consider talking to her.” She pushes her phone into your hands, opening up the contact app. “Put your number in, I’ll text you tonight and then when things have finally calmed down, I’ll fill you in.”

You punch your number into her phone and give her one last big hug. She sighs happily and you feel a little bit of the stress come off her shoulders. She pulls back and even though you know she really does have to go, you lean up and tenderly kiss the corner of her mouth. 

Tara hums in contentment, bops you gently on the nose, and exits the diner.

Tag: @cartierdreamx

Bonus A/N: Fingers crossed it makes sense with the last fic in mind.

[drivestraight]

have not stopped thinking about eta since it came out and i swear i’ve read it like 5 times since. the formatting is just mwah! with the way you weaved the past into the present narrative. your characterization of oscar is truly everything. “And he cares. All this time he has cared. He has cared so much but it’s gotten him nowhere, and no one can even see it. He never understood why no one else could see it.” → like this is the oscar thesis to me! i would love to hear more of your thoughts about the future of this universe you created !

FIVE TIMES 😭 thank you so much !! it always brings me so much joy to know that people like my writing, and especially the whole past/present timelines being told at the same time - i've said this before, but that was my biggest worry when posting/writing the fic, because i knew that it was kind of high risk (it might be confusing/hard to follow) but also high reward (it was the very best way to tell the story/the only way in the end), so i'm glad it all paid off :)

and yeah. oscar to me as a loverboy who cares so much and doesn't know what to do with it and will feel more than he'll ever let on. <3

re: the universe beyond this fic... lando's side of it i'm like. for some reason i like keeping it a secret even tho i'm probably never going to write it. but as for oscar and max:

nicole invites max to melbourne for the holidays after oscar wins the championship. max chooses to spend it with them mostly because he's already spent so much time with his own family this year, re: retirement, so the timing's kind of perfect. he and oscar are Boyfriends but it still kind of feels like this undefined things coming out of abu dhabi, but spending the holiday together + max getting to know oscar's family and them getting to know him really solidifies it all.

max takes another year off racing, so in 2027 he literally is just being oscar's wag. he doesn't go to every single race or even many races but every now and then he'll show up and just. Hang. he'll hang out with the piastris and eventually people online will be like... why is max so close to nicole. why is he joking around with oscar's sisters. what's happening rn. i think he'd do daytona and endurance racing in 2028, but he really is in a good place in life, seeing all his friends and family and even getting to know oscar's.

oscar's hot shit and hot property in 2027. because i'm a red bull lover, red bull are Really good in 2027. oscar and liam are work husbands and the levels of homosexuality in that team are off the charts (liam is straight). and then there's oscar's underarmor underwear campaign.

anyway oscar wins in 2027 again. it's a bit less of a fraught fight though because he wins it with a race or two to spare. it starts out as a threeway title fight between him, lando, and charles, but then he just starts to pull ahead.

[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 22 - 'Galería D’ange ' | ‘Act II’

word count - 10.8 k

Lunch out in Madrid with Jude, Jobe, and Toby was a lively, carefree afternoon. The café was full of laughter and teasing, a pleasant contrast to the more serious moments you’d been through recently. You’d almost forgotten about the world outside until you noticed some fans began to gather at the window, phones out, eager to catch a glimpse of Jude.

“You came back for this?” Toby leaned over with a grin, nudging you lightly teasing. You laughed, feeling the attention, and instinctively buried your face in the crook of Jude’s neck, giggling as he chuckled too, his arm slipping around you protectively. 

“Obviously,” you joked, peeking up from behind Jude as Toby continued to tease. Lunch carried on with more laughs and playful jabs as you all enjoyed each other’s company. When the meal ended, the four of you wandered down a picturesque cobblestone street, the sun warming your skin but the breeze sending a shiver down your spine. The atmosphere was light, peaceful, and Madrid felt a little more like home with them by your side. 

“Yo…Have you heard about the new gallery in Carabanchel?”  Jobe casually mentioned as you walked.  You looked at him, surprised he had.

“You? A gallery? I hadn’t” you giggled. “But why do you even know that, Jobe?” you teased, a grin spreading across your face. 

“What, I can’t have interests?” He smirked.

“You can! You just didn’t tell me we had the same one. It hadn’t come up yet that’s all,” you said, laughing, hands raised in innocence. “You wanna go?”

“Yeah, why not?” Jobe shrugged, acting nonchalant. You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. 

“Since when are you so down for stuff like this? I tried to get you to go with me one time and you said no.” You raised your brow joking but recalling a recent event you got invited to. Jobe was in town and a friend of friend invited you to an opening knowing you were now in Madrid, 

“Because it was a pity invite!” Jobe yelped! Jude couldn’t go so you invited Jobe to go with you genuinely. He still was invited with or without Jule so whilst he was pretending to be offended right now… he hadn’t wanted to go that night.

“Alright alright, regardless, I think we should go today.” Jude, walking beside you, squeezed your hand and chimed in.  You blinked up at him, a bit confused. Normally, you’d have to persuade him to join you on something like this, but today, both brothers seemed unusually eager. 

“No…Wait… What’s going on?” You smiled.  Jude grinned but didn’t give anything away.

“Nothing, just thought it’d be fun.” He quipped. You weren’t going to press. If they wanted to go look at art you were more than okay with it. With a shrug, you let it go and continued walking, Jude’s hand warm in yours.  It was a sunny day but the weather was turning. It was brisk and so you had to nick Jude’s jacket off him adding a men's Saint Laurent jacket to your mini skirt, t shirt, and boots look. “You ruined my fit but I guess I’ll still go to the gallery with you, angel.” Jude teased. You giggled pushing your face into his bicep. The exchange almost distracted you from the direction change in your route. The cobblestone streets soon led you to a part of the city you loved but one you weren’t intending to go to today. You were struck by a striking green windowed wall, an old garage-style door with vibrant green window panes catching your eye. It made you smile. It reminded you of a door at your chateau.  You smiled at the look of the place, appreciating the aesthetic and the familiar feeling it brought to you, but as you got closer, something seemed off. The space was completely empty, just concrete floors and nothing inside.

“Jude…” you said, your voice holding a note of suspicion. “What is this?” He stopped walking and looked at you with a mischievous smile.

“Come on then, just trust me please,” he said softly, pulling you toward the empty building. You glanced back at Jobe and Toby, who were both smiling like they knew something you didn’t.

“No… I don’t like this. What is going on?” you asked again, more curious now than anything else but not appreciating Toby and Jobe’s smugness. Jude led you closer to the empty space, his hand still firmly in yours. 

“Voilà! Mon ange.” Jude cooed, leaning to whisper into your ear. You roughly could see inside, your eyes wide as you took in the space, its high ceilings and expansive windows filling the room with natural light. The charm of the old, worn exterior contrasted perfectly with the brightness and newness inside of it, and it felt like the perfect balance between something familiar and something entirely new. Before you could process it all Jude gently dropped a pair of keys into your hands before he moved behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.  You stared down at them, heart pounding. “It’s for you… for us,” he said, his voice soft and calm, but the weight of his words settled over you. He leant around you, his eyes flashing to meet yours, and there was something vulnerable in them. “I wanted you to have something here. A place that feels like you.” He said. Your breath hitched. The gesture, the thought behind it—it was overwhelming. He was offering you more than just this physical space. He was offering you a home, a way to make Madrid yours too, to build something that belonged to you both. Jude’s hand cupped your cheek as he smiled softly. “You can do whatever you want with it. Sell it, keep it, leave it empty… or,” he paused with a smirk, “my personal suggestion is you make it the secondary location of my favorite gallery in the world. What do you think?” He cooed. Your lip trembled, and before you could stop it, tears spilled down your cheeks. 

“And she’s off.” Jobe, who was standing behind you, made a quip with a laugh. You barely heard him as Toby elbowed him to shut up. You were locked in your own little world, where all that mattered was Jude and the weight of what he was giving you. The thoughtfulness, the future he was offering—it all hit at once. 

“Do you want to go inside?” Jude’s voice broke through your daze. You nodded, but your hands shook as you tried to steady your breath. Jude noticed and took the keys from your hand, unlocking the door himself and holding it open for you. You stepped inside, feeling the cool air from the wide, open space wash over you. Jobe and Toby followed, their usual banter quieting as they sensed the enormity of the moment. You walked a few steps into the gallery but couldn’t move any further. The reality of what this space meant, the future it held, made your knees weak. 

“You good?” Toby, sensing your shock, gave your arm a gentle squeeze as he asked with a soft smile. You couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but stand there in disbelief. Jude had mentioned the idea of a gallery before, but you hadn’t taken it seriously. Now, standing in the middle of this space that was yours, you felt the full weight of his commitment. Jobe and Toby, sensing the need to give you two space, quickly made an excuse and headed out, leaving you and Jude alone. The second they left, your legs gave out, and you sank to the floor, your hands shaking as you tried to process it all. Jude was instantly at your side, kneeling in front of you. 

“Angel…” he murmured, his hand brushing the hair from your face. “It’s just the space, there’s no pressure. I want Madrid to be our home. And your work… it’s important. It’s important to you, it’s important to me.” His voice was so sincere, so full of love. “If having a little annex here in Madrid helps us build something that feels like home, then I think it’ll be good for us.” You looked up at him through teary eyes, your bottom lip quivering as you tried to form words. His face softened as he waited patiently for you to speak. He was giving you everything, and it was almost too much to bear. “So… thoughts?” he asked gently with a smirk, trying to pull you back from the brink of your emotions.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice cracking as more tears spilled over. “I love you so much.” Jude pulled you into his arms, his embrace warm and steady.

“C’mere, I love you too, Angel,” he whispered into your hair. “We’re going to make this our home. Together.” Jude helped you up, pulling you gently into his embrace as the two of you stood in the empty gallery space.

“Me and you.” You murmured into his chest almost silent, confirming your togetherness. 

“Us against them all, yeah?”  He cooed. You nodded. Normally, a space like this, with its bare walls and concrete floors, would feel cold and impersonal. But in Jude’s arms, it felt warm, alive. His presence, his heartbeat against you, made this gallery the most beautiful it would ever be, even in its emptiness. He looked down at you, his cheeky smile making your heart flutter. “I thought of a name… if you’d want to hear it,” he said, eyes twinkling. 

“Okay, go on” you said, your curiosity piqued. The moment broken by your soft giggles, leaning into his warmth. 

“Galería D’ange,” he said with a playful grin, stumbling over the Spanish and French words. His attempt was endearing, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was so Jude, and it melted you inside. Your eyes lit up with amusement and affection as the sweetness of the name settled in your mind. But then, Jude’s face softened into something more serious, his gaze intent as he continued. “And then we’ll add the ‘of Y/L/N New York,’ you know? Make it yours, connect to your gallery back there.” He told you. You blinked, processing his words as the reality of what he was saying sunk in. 

“Galería D’ange of Y/L/N New York,” you repeated slowly, the name rolling off your tongue with meaning. It was perfect. It was you. It was him. It was everything the two of you had built together, now grounded in something tangible and lasting. This was your life—intertwined with his, filled with love and adventure, and now, with a space to call your own. “Babyyyy,” you whined, overwhelmed with emotion, but your smile was radiant. “Perfect. Parfait. Perfecto,” you giggled, switching between all three languages with playful enthusiasm. Jude chuckled softly at your reaction, the warmth of his laugh spreading through you. “Thank you,” you whispered, your heart swelling with gratitude. You leaned in, kissing him deeply, your hands sliding up to his face as you pulled him closer, pouring all the love you felt for him into that kiss. When you pulled back, you gazed up at him with glistening eyes, unable to fully express how much this moment, this gesture, meant to you. But you didn’t need to. Jude knew, and the way he looked back at you, as if you were his whole world, said everything. So you stood there in the middle of the empty gallery, the air around you buzzing with quiet emotion as you held onto Jude tightly. The tears on your cheeks felt never-ending, your nose pressed into his shirt as you sniffled. His arms wrapped around you, steady and grounding, as if he were trying to physically hold together the emotions between you. 

 “Don’t take this the wrong way, but this really shouldn’t…” You trailed off, your voice cracking with the weight of how deeply overwhelmed you felt. “It shouldn’t work.” You finished your sentiment. Jude understood what you meant. You weren’t questioning the relationship, you were complimenting how unreal it was that you were finding success  Looking up at him, your eyes wide and filled with adoration, you pouted. “Why are you like this?” you asked with a pout, barely above a whisper. “You’re the sweetest boy in the whole world.” Your hands found their way to his face, cupping his cheek as your thumb brushed gently against his skin. He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch, as if he were savoring every second of the connection. And when he opened them again, your heart flipped. His gaze was soft, yet intense, filled with so much love that it made you feel like the luckiest person alive. He was so gorgeous, inside and out, and right then you were certain of everything. 

“It works because I love you,” he said, his words carrying a weight that made your chest tighten. “And no newspaper, no tweet, or even ocean can keep me from loving you.” Jude’s voice was low but steady, filled with unwavering certainty. His eyes held yours, and for a moment, the world felt like it had stilled completely. “I want you with me,” he continued, his voice soft yet firm. “Whatever you need, whatever you want—I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of you, Angel. For the rest of my life.” You stood there, holding him in the stillness of the empty gallery, the city sounds faint and distant outside. It was just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s presence, as the moment stretched into something timeless. Tears continued to slip down your cheeks only slower, but there was a warmth in your heart that overtook the fear and uncertainty. You pressed closer to him, your body melting into his, and in that quiet space—empty, yet so full of promise—you stayed, holding onto the one person who made you feel safe in the storm. 

Time had passed since Jude gave you Galería D’ange. It was like the gallery built a damn blocking anything from the past from getting to you and Jude and today was just another day behind it. You held Jude tightly in the middle of the shop, your arms naturally wrapping around his waist as he reached up onto a shelf to grab something. 

“Angel, let go for a minute, yeah? I need to reach the shelf.” His warm laughter filled the small space as he gently teased. You blinked, realizing you hadn’t even noticed how close you were, how your body instinctively pressed into him, as if you couldn’t bear to be apart for even a moment. With a soft laugh, you apologized, reluctantly letting him go, though the warmth lingered between you. Things were so good—almost terrifyingly good, like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you tried not to think about that. You let yourself stay in the warmth of these moments, the mundane sweetness of just being together. You were out running errands, something so ordinary but so full of meaning when you did it with him. A few people had stopped Jude for photos as you wandered through the streets, smiling and nodding politely as he interacted with the fans. It wasn’t overwhelming, not today. Just a few brief interactions, faces lighting up when they saw him, quick requests for a picture or a signature. It was part of the rhythm of your life now. After the shop, you stopped for coffee, the two of you slipping into a quiet corner of the café. But even in the hushed space, life had a way of reminding you of its presence. As you sat across from Jude, the faint sound of a camera shutter echoed, a flash going off accidentally as a girl tried to take a picture of her coffee. Or maybe it wasn’t an accident. It definitely wasn’t. Either way, it didn’t matter. She glanced your way apologetically, realizing she’d been caught. You gave her a small smile in return, understanding that this was life now—moments of hazy bliss with Jude, sliced through by interactions with strangers, with cameras, with glimpses of the outside world that never quite went away. But Madrid had become your home. You’d moved there primarily, letting New York slip into the background. You’d go back maybe quarterly, only when necessary, but that house nestled just outside the city with Jude—that was home. The kind of home you could breathe in. Where you could wrap yourself around him as much as you liked, no cameras, no interruptions. Just you and Jude, and the life you were building, piece by piece, moment by moment… And on occasion Denise would pop back in too. But today it was just the two of you. As you walked back to the car, the last whispers of summer clung to the air, the warmth still lingering just enough to remind you of the heat, though the crisp bite of autumn was making its steady, inevitable arrival. Madrid had that way of feeling alive during these in-between moments, where the seasons shifted, and the city’s energy matched the change. You tucked the jumper of Jude’s you were in tighter around you, enjoying the cool breeze that swirled around the street. Jude walked beside you, his hand brushing yours as you made your way toward the car. Ever the gentleman, he reached for the door handle, but not before planting a soft kiss on your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to make you smile. The moment was sweet, simple, until you felt the playful slap on your ass. He laughed, full and bright, watching your reaction.

“Jude!” you whined, rolling your eyes dramatically as you shot him a mock glare. “We’re in public!” You dropped your head to the side pouting. 

“Sorry, couldn’t resist angel,” he teased, his grin unapologetic. “Look leng today.” He smirked. With an exaggerated sigh, you slid into the driver’s seat, sending him a sarcastic shake of the head. 

“Thanks so much for that,” You cooed as he shut the door behind you. Of course, you were the one driving—again. This had become part of your dynamic, one that the public, and his fans especially, had picked up on. Jude, for all his skills on the pitch, was still absolutely useless behind the wheel, and you had teased him about it endlessly. He rounded the car, sliding into the passenger seat, completely unbothered by the fact that he was always chauffeured around by you. As you pulled out of the parking lot, heading home, the atmosphere between you was light, carefree. It was one of those days where everything felt just easy—running errands together, grabbing coffee, and soaking in the simplicity of it all. It was as normal as it could get. These were the moments you loved most, the ones that felt like a pause button on the chaos of your lives. But as the city blurred by outside the window, the buzz of Jude’s phone filled the car, and you saw him scrolling through something on social media. He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he scrolled faster, clearly amused by whatever he was seeing.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, glancing over as he leaned back in his seat, a sly grin creeping onto his face. He turned the phone toward you, and there it was—the video. Someone had filmed your entire little exchange back in the parking lot. The kiss, the ass slap, your mock protest, all of it. And it was already making the rounds online. The comments were blowing up. Boys were praising Jude, hyping him up for being so cheeky. Girls were half-swooning, half-scolding him in a mix of affection and exasperation. But then there was the real fan conversation that seemed to be dominating the thread—the one about his driving, or more accurately, his lack of driving.

‘Why can Jude still not drive? That’s a full adult ’ 

One tweet read, with endless replies echoing the same sentiment. It was a long-running joke at this point, one that had taken on a life of its own. Jude clicked his tongue, visibly annoyed but amused all the same.

“Nah, see… when are you actually going to teach me to drive? I’m just getting rinsed online at this point. They’re ruthless,” he said, glancing at you with a mix of frustration and playfulness. You couldn’t help but giggle, the sound bubbling up despite yourself.

“Wait, that’s what you’re concerned about? Not the fact that people are talking about you smacking my ass in public?” He shot you a serious look, his brows furrowed as if this was an actual pressing issue. 

“Yes. Everyone knows I can’t drive. It’s like a national crisis at this point.” He scrolled through more of the comments, his eyes scanning them casually as if he wasn’t slightly stung by the teasing. “But our relationship? That’s private. They don’t know anything about that.” Your eyes widened as you raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the seat. 

“Private, huh? Jude, you kissed me, then slapped my ass. So private,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. He shrugged, completely unbothered. 

“I can be way sweeter than opening the car door for you,” he said nonchalantly, scrolling through more tweets. “And I can definitely be rougher than tapping your ass.” You blinked, not expecting that. Your eyebrow raised higher as you studied him, waiting for the smirk you knew was coming. But Jude just kept scrolling, not looking up, completely casual about the whole thing, as if he’d just said something totally normal.

“Oh, really?” you asked, your voice low, teasing. Finally, he looked up, locking eyes with you, his expression softening into that playful grin you knew too well. 

“Really, angel,” he said, the edge of his voice teasing, but there was something earnest behind it. He reached over and brushed his hand against your thigh, his touch light, but the warmth of it lingered. His smile grew, and it was one of those rare moments where the public and the private blurred, and you realized how much of your relationship was still yours, still hidden away from the world, even with all the prying eyes. 

“You’re unbelievable.” You shook your head, trying to hold back a laugh. He leaned back, satisfied with himself, and scrolled through the last few tweets with a sigh. 

“All I’m saying is, one driving lesson would solve this whole thing. They’d have nothing left to clown me about.” He explained seriously. You shot him a look.

“Jude, I love you, but the way you panic at a roundabout… I’m not sure I’m the right person to teach you.” His face lit up with mock offense, a hand flying to his chest. 

“Roundabouts are stressful! It’s like driving in circles for no reason, angel.” You couldn’t hold back the laughter anymore. The absurdity of it all—the fact that Jude, this world-famous footballer, was more concerned about his lack of driving skills being roasted online than the viral video of your intimate little moment—made you laugh so hard, you had to concentrate a bit harder on keeping your focus on the road.

“Okay, okay,” you said between laughs, “we’ll do some lessons. But no promises you’ll end up with a license.” You cooed. He grinned, leaning over to plant a kiss on your cheek. 

“Deal. But for now, you can keep driving. I like having my chauffeur.” He smirked. You shot him a playful glare, but the truth was, you didn’t mind. These moments—the teasing, the banter, the simplicity of just being with him—made all the noise from the outside world fade away. This was home. And that was enough. 

"So, rough, huh?" you teased Jude later that evening recalling his joke earlier after the shops. You were  leaning against the bathroom counter as you got ready for bed. The playful smirk tugging at your lips was impossible to hide. Jude, mid-motion of pulling his shirt over his head, paused just enough to catch your eye in the mirror, his grin widening as he tossed the shirt to the side. He turned to face you, that mischievous look in his eye lighting a fire that you'd become all too familiar with. Things had been-well, let's just say spicy between you lately. With no hectic long distance travel schedules and the nights together stacking up, except for the odd away game, you and Jude had spent a lot of time wrapped up in each other. Not just in the bedroom, either-pretty much anywhere had become fair game at this point. The frequency had ramped up in a way that left you both breathless and constantly looking for the next moment to be alone. The scrutiny online about your relationship, the constant public attention, it only seemed to fuel the fire between you. It was as if the more people speculated and watched, the more determined you both were to shut out the world and claim each other, over and over again. Your relationship had found new life through this physical closeness, this undeniable pull toward each other. You weren’t sure you could possibly be more in love with him-this intensely connected, both emotionally and physically. And the sex? Well, it had taken on a life of its own. You were both impossibly horny all the time, a constant heat simmering between you, and it felt like no matter how much time you spent together, it was never enough. You found yourself stealing glances, teasing touches, small moments that quickly spiraled into more. It wasn't just a phase either. It had become your new normal, and you weren't complaining -except maybe for the fact that you couldn't seem to get enough. Your mind was often preoccupied with when you'd get your next fix, your next stolen moment with Jude. The real concern, though, the one in retrospect probably should’ve been entertaining more, was whether you were keeping up with your birth control. But honestly, having to drag yourself upstairs to grab a pill from the nightstand at 9:00 p.m. when you were cuddled downstairs with Jude felt like such an inconvenience. Especially when his arm was draped over your waist, and his lips were finding that perfect spot on your neck that made you melt. It was hard to care about practicalities when life felt this good, when he felt this good. Every kiss, every touch-it was like a drug, and you were both addicted. You couldn't help but wonder if this was what it felt like to be in the perfect moment, where everything aligned just right, and nothing outside the two of you mattered. Jude stepped closer to you now, his hand sliding up your arm as he leaned down, his lips brushing just beneath your ear. 

"Oh, you have no idea," he whispered, his voice low, teasing, sending shivers down your spine.

You turned to face him fully, biting your lip, your heart racing in anticipation. His eyes sparkled with that playful, knowing look as he reached for you, pulling you against him. The warmth of his skin, the way his body molded to yours, it was almost too much-and yet, it was never enough.

"Care to remind me?" you teased, your voice breathless, the words barely slipping past your lips before he kissed you, deep and slow, pulling you into the kind of moment that you'd found yourself living for lately. Life was good. Jude was even better. Suddenly the bathroom mirrors fogged up with steam, blurring your reflection after you and Jude had fallen into each other once again. He fucked you in the shower till he was dripping out of you. You both knew you were being reckless lately, but the thrill of it all kept you repeating it again and again. It was as if you'd created your own little world within these four walls, a world where pleasure and desire reigned supreme. You locked eyes with Jude through the haze, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. He looks so fucking sexy, his frame glistening with water droplets from the hot shower. Your heart raced as you began to anticipate what was about to happen again, knowing very well that Jude could make you feel things no one else ever could, and you knew that because he just showed you moments ago. As he stepped out of the shower, his tanned skin contrasted with the white bath towel wrapped around his waist. You bit your lip as you watched him approach you, his eyes never leaving yours. The towel accentuating his muscular physique, you couldn’t help but admire the way his abs flexed as he moved.

"Not done with you, angel. Can't keep my hands off you," he whispered, his voice low and husky. You giggled, a playful glint in your eyes. 

"Okay. Come here, baby. Give me some more of you.” You smirked. Arousal flooding your veins all over again. He grinned, revealing his perfect pearly white teeth. 

“Starting to push the limits here, innit? Endless rounds and rounds, and you keep begging for more.” Jude cooed. He was teasing a bit but you both knew there was a slight undercurrent of irresponsibility in what you were doing.  

“Are you complaining?” You teased moving past any possible practical concern with a raised brow, dropping your own towel off your body. 

“Nah, never. You’re just too fucking good f’me. I could never stop wanting more of you.” His hands moved towards you magnetically, his hands then brushing up and down your sides, making goosebumps rise on your skin. You nodded, already feeling a little breathless. 

"I can't help it. You make me feel so good." You whined with a frown as you reached for Jude’s towel, and with a swift motion, you let it drop to the floor, revealing his hard cock. Your eyes widened at the sight, your mouth watering. He was thick and long, a masterpiece of male anatomy.

"Let me make you feel good again, angel. I want more of you," he growled, his voice filled with desire. You didn't need any more encouragement for things to kick off again. But in opposition to Jude’s ideas you hummed a ‘mmnhmm’ with a cheeky shake of the head. In a quick but smooth succession, you dropped to your knees, your hands reaching out to stroke his length. The skin was hot and silky under your touch, and you could feel a rush of power as you took control. "Oh yeah, baby?" he moaned questioning your decision to take more of him as your fingers wrapped around him. "That's it, take what’s yours." Your fingers moved up and down, teasing the sensitive tip, making Jude's breath catch. You leaned in, your lips brushing against the head of his cock, tasting the salty pre-cum that glistens there. "Fuck, YN," he groans. "Your mouth... I need it." Jude was a mess. Neither of you could be satiated lately, and he, right now, was proving just that and thankfully, you didn't need to be told twice. With a sultry smile, you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head, savoring the taste of him. Jude's hands dove into your hair, gripping gently as he encouraged you to take more of him. "That's it, suck me off, angel," he pants. "Deeper, baby, let me feel you." You obliged, taking him deeper, your throat opening to accommodate his girth. Your eyes watered slightly, but the pleasure on Jude's face kept you going. His moans filling the room. You knew exactly how Jude liked head by this point in your relationship. It was almost down to a silence. As you sucked and stroked, Jude's hips began to thrust gently, meeting your mouth with each forward motion. The wet sounds of pleasure filled the bathroom, mixing with the steam and the scent of sex. "Fuck. I'm gonna cum, Y/N," he warned, his voice tight with restraint. "Fuck.”

"I wan’ it... all of it." You pulled back briefly looking up at him with lust-filled eyes, a string of salvia still connecting you to him. And so moments later, with a final, powerful thrust, Jude came, his hot cum flowed down your throat. You swallowed eagerly, savoring the taste of him, not wanting to waste a drop. He groaned, his body trembling as the orgasm washed over him.

"Fuck, that was so good," he breathed heavily, pulling you up for a deep kiss. You kissed him back, tasting yourself on his lips, and feeling his passion ignite yours.

"Come on, baby. I want more of you still. Bed now," you whispered commandingly against his mouth. Jude's eyes lit up with excitement. He was thrilled you wanted to keep going.  As you entered the bedroom, the soft sheets beckoning, you both knew this was just the beginning of another session. You pushed Jude onto the bed, his back against the headboard, you straddled his waist, your wet pussy already aching for him.

"You wanna ride me," he urged, his hands cupping your tits, thumbs flicking over your sensitive nipples. You leaned forward, your hands on his chest for support as you began to grind your hips, feeling his hard cock slide along your slick folds. Your tits bouncing with each movement, Jude's eyes darkening with desire. "That's it, angel, show me how much you want it," he encouraged, his hands moving down to grip your hips, guiding your movements. You moaned, the sensation of his cock rubbing against your clit drove you wild.  “Tell me how bad you need my cock.” You could feel your pussy throb as he teased you. You begged him to fuck you whimpering. 

“Jude please. Please fuck me. I want you,” you whined causing Jude to smile smugly. He lined his cock up with your entrance but kept you hovering above him, not allowing you to sit down. 

“I know.” He cooed as you sank down. He stretched you perfectly. You breathed slowly as he filled you. He held his same smug grin watching the pleasure on your face. “Such a good girl f’me. Just like that, baby.” He was enjoying watching you but his own feelings had him struggling to keep his eyes from rolling back. As you grinded on him, Jude knew this was a feeling he could never replace. His hands slid up your waist to grip your tits as they bounced with every movement. You leant back, your hands behind you for support, and begin to ride him with purpose, your pussy engulfing his length with each downward thrust.

"Fuck, you feel so good," You whimpered as his hands squeezed your ass, urging you on. The pace quickened, and your moans filled the room as you rode him harder, your pussy clenching around his shaft. Jude's hands move to your thighs, spreading them wider, giving him deeper access.

"That's it, let me feel that tight pussy," he grunted, his own control slipping as he met your downward thrusts with powerful upward strokes. The sensation was incredible, and you could feel your orgasm building, your body trembling with anticipation. Jude's eyes locked with yours, his gaze intense and loving. "Cum for me, angel," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Let go, I wanna feel you." He told you. You whimpered, your body tightening as the pleasure peaked. 

"Oh, fuck Jude... I'm..." Your words were lost as your orgasm hit, your pussy convulsing around his cock, milking him as waves of pleasure wash over you. Jude's hips bucked off the bed, driving his cock somehow deeper inside you as he came with a roar, filling you with his hot release this time in a different way. In the aftermath, you collapsed onto his chest, both of you breathing heavily. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his lips trailing kisses along your neck.

"I love you so much angel," he whispered, his voice filled with adoration. "You're my everything." You smiled, snuggling closer, feeling the warmth of his body and the wetness between your thighs. 

"I love you Jude. This...  was…we... are so good at that." You giggled, hiding your face. He hummed in agreement kissing your hair

And so as it goes, life was good all until it wasn’t. All it took was one tweet. 

‘All I’m saying is since that girl showed up Jude Bellingham has been shite. Save some energy for the games, mate.’

It felt like you’d read this exact tweet hundreds of times but apparently this one carried firepower and it brewed a whole debate online, for weeks. And so it was declared Jude’s form had been off—at least, that’s what everyone was saying. The press, the fans, the analysts. And somehow, as ridiculous as it sounded, you were the one they blamed. You’d become a convenient story for them, something to latch onto when the statistics didn’t add up the way they wanted. Even the most reputable pundits asking if his personal life or is the spotlight affecting him. Sure, Jude had been playing well, but his goals and assists were down compared to last season, and people needed someone to point fingers at. The narrative spun out of control in the way only a media frenzy could. It wasn’t new to you. But somehow, this time it stung a little more. You didn’t like that people were being rude to your Jude. It made you sad. You didn’t want to inflict that type of hurt on him and so… you hide. Tonight, you were at the Bernabéu. You’d come early, as usual, trying to stay out of the spotlight as much as possible. The stadium was slowly filling with fans, the energy building in that electric way it always did before kickoff. The roar of the crowd was still a murmur at this stage, the steady hum of anticipation floating through the air. You found your spot far in the back of the box, standing as you always did, eyes squinting to make out the figures of the players warming up on the pitch below. From here, Jude was just another one of the players, moving through his drills, stretching, shaking off the tension that always seemed to cling to the start of a game. This had become your routine, this quiet, removed place where you could watch without the weight of all those eyes on you. In a way, it was your safe zone—a place where you could feel present for Jude but shielded from the noise. From the stories. From the judgment. You shifted on your feet, feeling the cool metal railing beneath your hands as you leaned forward just slightly, trying to focus on Jude and not the knot in your stomach. It was hard to ignore the things people said sometimes, even when you knew they weren’t true. But before you could sink too deep into your thoughts, you felt a hand on your arm. Firm but gentle, the touch snapped you back to reality. You turned to see Denise standing there, her expression sharp but filled with concern. She didn’t say anything at first, just pulled you slightly toward her, her grip softening as she looked you in the eye.

“Hun…enough,” she finally said, her voice low but carrying the weight of everything unsaid. “You are not here for them. You’re here to support Jude. And you can’t do that from back here.” You blinked, trying to find a response, but nothing came. Denise didn’t wait for you to argue. She grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the front of the box, toward the seats you’d been avoiding. There was no point resisting; when Denise had made up her mind about something, it was best to just go along with it. And truthfully, you knew she was right. She sat you down next to her, her hand never leaving yours as if she knew you needed the grounding. Her tone softened, the edge replaced by something warmer, more maternal. She was incredibly sweet with you but you knew she’d always been tough, protective in her own way, and over time she had come to treat you like one of her own, the toughness included. You could feel that in moments like this. “Do you know the surname on your back?” she asked, her gaze steady. You looked at her, caught off guard by the question, but you nodded. Of course, you did. You wore that name every time you stepped into this stadium, whether or not you realized it. “You’re either part of this family or not. You decide.” She said it bluntly but you knew it wasn’t meant as a threat but as a reminder. Still, her words struck a chord deep inside you. You were part of this family—Jude’s family, but also this team, this life. You hadn’t chosen the spotlight, but it came with the territory, and Denise was reminding you of that in the most direct way possible. This wasn’t about the press, or the stories people told, or the numbers on a scoreboard. It was about standing beside Jude, even when things felt overwhelming. You couldn’t help but smile at her. It was a small, grateful smile, one that said more than words could. Denise nodded, satisfied, before she wrapped her arm around you, pulling you close in that protective, motherly way she had. She kissed your temple softly, a quiet show of affection that made you feel both cared for and understood.  As you settled into the seat, you felt the weight of a few eyes turning toward you. People noticed, of course they did. In this world, you were never truly invisible. The whispers and glances might come, but sitting here now, next to Denise, you realized something: it was okay. Let them look, let them whisper. You weren’t here for them. You were here for Jude. You straightened up a little, your back pressing firmly against the seat as the crowd roared louder, signaling the match was about to begin. The tension in your chest eased ever so slightly as the players lined up on the field. You could see Jude now, clear as day, and for the first time tonight, you didn’t feel the need to hide. This was where you belonged, and it would have to be enough.

Since the series came out, Jude had become, if possible, more clingy with you, though the internet had it all wrong. People assumed that with his fame, his talent, and the endless attention he received, he didn’t need you to ground him, that he was the star and you were just along for the ride. But in truth, Jude believed he needed you to perform, to thrive on and off the pitch. Jude was struggle despite the fact that he wasn’t playing badly, you both knew that and so did the more seasoned football fans too. But you also both knew the scrutiny was part of the job, but it didn’t make it any easier. Jude was always a target. If he wasn’t scoring or assisting every game, the critics were quick to pounce. It was exhausting, but you had your own ways of supporting him through it all, grounding him when the outside noise became too loud. Jude’s clinginess had always been endearing, even if the public rarely saw it. They had this image of him—self-sufficient, confident, the superstar who didn’t need anyone. But in reality, behind all the headlines and highlight reels, Jude leaned on you more than anyone could guess. He wasn’t shy about it, either. To him, you weren’t just his partner; you were part of his success, his comfort, his why. Every day was a reminder of that, in small ways that meant everything. Your presence had become a part of his routine, the glue that held everything together for him. 

Take this morning. He was mid-set in the gym, his arms straining as he pushed through the reps, sweat dripping down his face. Often, you’d sit on the floor of your home gym while he worked out, chatting away as he powered through reps, his eyes occasionally glancing your way for a quick grin, your words acting like background music to his workout. He swore it helped him focus. He needed you there. Today was no different, you sat on a yoga mat, leaning against the wall, scrolling idly through your phone while chatting with him, explaining some drama Winnie was in. He’d glance over between sets, grinning like a boy who couldn’t get enough of the sound of your voice, as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded during the workout. But sometimes you wouldn’t say anything at all, you’d just watch. Your presence enough for him. 

“You’re staring again,” he muttered teasingly, mid-lift, his breath labored but full of amusement.

“Who says I’m staring?” you shot back with a smirk, not even bothering to deny it.

“I can feel it,” he replied, his lips twitching into a smile as he set the weight down and shook his arms out. “Keeps me going, though.”

And that was just the start. Then, there were the breakfasts you made for him before training.  He’d follow you into the kitchen, waiting as you made him breakfast—his usual, the one you’d perfected over the months. It was always the same, exactly how he liked it. And no matter how many people offered to do it for him—a chef, his mum—he insisted that only your cooking was right. It was part of the ritual, part of his connection to you, and through that, his connection to the game. You once tried to tell him someone else should* handle but Jude had immediately vetoed the idea.

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “They wouldn’t make it like you do.” It wasn’t just the food. It was you. He was playing well—anyone with a proper eye for the game knew that. He wasn’t putting up these astronomical numbers in goals or assists, but he was solid, consistent, and crucial to the team’s strategy. Still, that didn’t stop the critics from coming for him whenever they could. That kind of pressure could break anyone. But not Jude—not as long as he had you by his side. And you knew he felt that. You could see it in the way he sought you out after games, his eyes scanning the stands, always finding yours, as if that was the moment he could finally exhale. With the international break around the corner, you felt a twinge of relief. It was always an intense period, with Jude off representing England. He was proud to pull on that jersey, but the added strain on his body was undeniable. You’d spent nights massaging the knots out of his back, watching him ice his knees after long stretches of games. He was fit, sure, but the game took its toll, and you could see the wear in moments of quiet, when he finally let down the walls. Still, the two of you were eagerly looking forward to this particular break for one reason: the draw. England versus France. The very idea of it lit a spark in both of you, not just for the magnitude of the match, but for everything it represented. Paris wasn’t just another city for you—it was a place loaded with history, with meaning. This international break there was something extra to look forward to. The two of you had been eagerly anticipating the draw, and now it was official. The game would be at that little old place on Rue du Commandant Guilbaud, Parc des Princes in Paris. December would bring cold air and frosty breaths, the perfect atmosphere for a match that was sure to be icy with tension between the two countries. The history, the rivalry, it all made the stakes feel even higher. You could already imagine it—friends and family in the stands, the energy electric, your heart racing as you pulled on Jude’s England jersey, feeling the weight of it, the pride, the love, but slight fear because you knew Louis was going to kill you when he saw you in the kit.  You grew up going to Parc des Princes but you hadn’t been in ages. The nostalgia was already pulling at your heartstrings, memories of the city swirling in your mind. But more than anything, you were excited to be there for him. To stand in the cold Parisian air, bundled up, but warm with pride as Jude stepped onto that familiar pitch, surrounded by tension and anticipation. This wasn’t just another match. It felt bigger, more meaningful. For Jude, for you. And you couldn’t wait to be there, standing by him as always, ready to watch him shine, knowing that no matter what, you were part of his every win, every challenge, every moment.

“oh mon Dieu. I’m so so so excited, baby,” you said one night seeing the fixture announced on Instagram as you curled up beside Jude on the couch, his arm draped lazily over your shoulder. “Feels like ages since we’ve been in Paris together.” You smiled jumping over your last Parisian memories with Whitney and instead skipping to recall better times with Jude.  He smiled, pulling you closer. 

“Feels like ages since we’ve done anything that wasn’t football-related.” He cheekily smiled a little annoyed at the fact that you were going for his work but also eagerly anticipating what was going to happen on this trip.  

“You’re not wrong,” you agreed, letting your fingers trace small circles on his chest. “But this match… Jude, it’s sweet. It’s like us..” You smile. His expression softened, a mix of pride and excitement. The darkness of the room wrapped around you both like a cocoon. “England versus France. December in Paris. The crowd, the atmosphere…” Jude’s hand slid across your waist, pulling you closer until your head rested against his chest. You smiled against his skin, your heart full.

“Big weekend, innit?” He smiled but his heart was pounding.  His voice was a soft rumble in the quiet of the room. You nodded none the wiser. He had plans for that weekend and he was stressed about much more than the game. “And my angel will be there f’me. Wearing my shirt, hmm?” He cooed, kissing your hair a few times.  You laughed, nudging him playfully. 

“Of course, likely freezing my ass off but I wouldn’t miss a chance to see my favorite player in the world. I’ll even brave the Parisian winter for it.” You giggled. 

“Such a martyr,” he teased, kissing the top of your head.

“I cant’t wait to see Kylian play, Aurel and Cama too, you know?” You giggled and Jude kissed his teeth. 

“Honestly. Just so rude. Can’t wear my kit anymore. Get one of your little French boys to give you a jersey.” He feigned offense. You kissed his neck with a giggled, squeezing him in a bone crushing cuddle. It was all in good humor because the truth was, you’d do anything for him, and he knew it even beat your own heritage. The match itself was already steeped in tension—the rivalry between England and France, the history, the weight of national pride.  The Parc des Princes had always held a special place for you but this time, it wasn’t just about the past. It was about now. It was about Jude, about watching him in the jersey that meant the world to him, feeling the weight of his name on your back as you stood in the crowd. There was something magical about it, something that felt different from all the other matches. Maybe it was the nostalgia of Paris, or maybe it was the fact that after all the scrutiny and pressure, this match felt like an opportunity for Jude to remind everyone who he was. And you’d be there, as you always were, bundled up in the cold, feeling every ounce of pride and love for the man who had your heart. Jude might have been the star, the one everyone watched, but the truth was, the game—his game—wasn’t the same without you.

With the break fast approaching you were worried about Jude’s body, more now than ever before. The season was relentless—game after game, with no real break in sight, and every added match meant another 90-plus minutes of strain on his already taxed muscles and joints. His shoulder, his ankle, his knee… they all weighed heavily on your mind. The problem was, Jude would never admit if something wasn’t right. He always brushed off your concerns, telling you he was fine, that it was just part of the game. But you could see it—the subtle winces when he stood too quickly, the extra time he took to stretch in the mornings, the way he sometimes favored one leg over the other when he thought you weren’t looking. And yet, lately, it wasn’t just Jude’s physical state that had you worried. There was something going on with you too. You felt so achy, this unfamiliar heaviness lingering in your limbs. By the afternoons, your energy was completely drained, leaving you groggy and fighting to keep your eyes open. And then there was your body. You’d been brushing it off for weeks, but you couldn’t ignore it anymore—your jeans didn’t fit quite right, not like they used to. They were tighter around your waist, your hips, and no matter how many times you told yourself it was just bloating or stress, the little voice in the back of your mind whispered something different. It was the reason why that trip upstairs at 9 p.m. to get your birth control had suddenly become so important again. For weeks, you’d been a little careless, caught up in the whirlwind of life with Jude, in the physical intensity of your relationship. It had been too easy to forget, to prioritize the comfort of cuddling on the couch over getting up and grabbing the pill. But now, you couldn’t brush it off. You couldn’t let it slip for one more night.  The problem was, the thought that had been creeping into the edges of your mind—the one that you were now terrified to even entertain—scared you. It was a fear you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge, let alone say out loud. Because if you did… what then? You sat on the couch beside Jude that night, your head resting against his shoulder as he scrolled through his phone, oblivious to the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. His body was warm and steady against you, his presence always a source of comfort. But tonight, comfort felt elusive. Your thoughts kept drifting back to how off you’d felt lately, how your body seemed to be betraying you, sending you signals you weren’t ready to interpret. You knew you needed to make that walk upstairs to your nightstand, to pop that tiny pill and push the thought out of your mind. But for the first time in weeks, you weren’t sure if it was already too late.

“Everything okay in there, angel? You’ve been quiet tonight.” Jude’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, pulling you back to the present. His finger coming to tap on your temple gently but teasingly.  You forced a smile, looking up at him. 

“Yeah, just tired, that’s all.” You admitted a half truth. He kissed your temple where his fingers were, his lips lingering there for a moment, his breath warm against your skin. 

“You sure? You’ve seemed off lately.” Your heart skipped a beat at how easily he could read you, even when you weren’t ready to admit anything. You nodded, not trusting yourself to say much more. Jude was already dealing with so much—his body, the pressure of the season, the upcoming international matches. The last thing you wanted to do was add to his stress. But as you sat there, wrapped up in his warmth, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. Something was happening. You just weren’t sure what it was yet. And that terrified you more than anything. The night was quiet, the soft hum of the television the only sound filling the room as you cuddled into Jude’s side. After the international break games had been announced, Paris—Parc des Princes—was where Jude’s thoughts had been circling for days. He was focused on upcoming fixtures but also what was meant to happen outside of those match days.  You could feel his excitement simmering just beneath the surface, even if tonight, he was calm, content just being there with you. As you shifted, settling deeper into the couch, Jude’s voice cut through the stillness again. 

“I was thinking,” he began, his tone thoughtful but easy. “Do you think your dad would want to come to the match? I’d really like to invite him.” Jude cooed.  You blinked, surprised. 

“Yeah, I’m sure he’d love that. I can tell him—” You cooed almost instinctively, it was sweet but you were not really thinking about it much. Jude gently placed a hand on your arm, stopping you mid-sentence. 

“Nah, angel.” he said softly but firmly. “I mean I want to invite him myself.” His words hung in the air, and you pulled back slightly, sitting up, studying his face. There was something deeper in his request, something more personal than just an invitation to watch him play. For a second, you felt touched by how important it was to him. But then, like a wave crashing over you, the thought hit hard: What if something’s wrong? Your mind started to spiral. All the little signs—the achiness, the strange grogginess, the tightness of your jeans—they all seemed to be pointing in one direction, a direction you weren’t ready to consider. What if… you were… no surely not. The thought made your stomach churn. You suddenly felt a bit sick, not from any physical symptom, but from the sheer weight of the possibility. Seeing your family, especially in Paris, suddenly felt like a mountain you weren’t ready to climb. You pictured sitting across from them, the warmth of wine glasses being passed around, the ease with which they would pour you a glass without question. In your family, wine wasn’t just a drink—it was tradition, hospitality, connection. Refusing a glass would raise eyebrows. They’d notice, they’d ask questions, and how would you explain that? You couldn’t decide which option was worse: taking a test and confirming your fears, or sitting through a meal with your family, knowing you might be hiding something so monumental. “Angel?” You must’ve gone quiet for too long because Jude’s brow furrowed in concern.  You nodded quickly, trying to shake off the dizziness of your thoughts. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. I’m fine. Just thinking.” You forced a smile, still trying to process his request. “It’s sweet, Jude, but… You don’t have to do all that, why do you want to ask him yourself?” Jude didn’t hesitate. He looked at you with the kind of sincerity that always made your heart skip a beat. 

“It’s a big deal for me to have people at my games and not just there as spectators but I want them there as family, as friends. Your dad… he’s important to you, so he’s important to me. I’d love for him to be there as someone I invited, someone who’s part of my or our world.” His words softened the edges of your anxiety for a moment, his thoughtfulness tugging at something deep inside you. You knew your dad would appreciate that gesture. He wasn’t the kind of man who liked to use his name or status to get into fancy places. He didn’t care for the fuss of hospitality suites or special treatment. What he cared about was connection—being present, being part of something real. And here Jude was, offering exactly that. Although your dad was a man of comfort and luxury so you knew he wouldn’t complain in Jude’s box either. 

“He’d love that, Jude. Really, baby.” You smiled, this time genuinely. Jude’s eyes lit up, clearly pleased. He reached out, gently pulling you back down into his arms, your head finding its familiar spot against his chest. His lips pressed a soft kiss to your temple, a steadying presence as always. The warmth of his body, the rhythm of his breathing—it was enough to slow the racing of your thoughts, if only for a moment. As you lay there, your mind couldn’t help but return to the nagging possibility of what might be happening with your body. You tried to push it down, tried to focus on the feeling of Jude’s arm around you, the comfort of his presence. But it was hard to ignore. Every day, it seemed more likely that you were dealing with something much bigger than just fatigue or stress. You had brushed it off for so long, but now, sitting here with Jude, your thoughts swirling, you realized how scared you really were. And yet, in this moment, with Jude holding you close, something shifted. His kiss against your temple, the way his hand rested protectively on your side—it all steadied your heart. Maybe, just maybe, it didn’t have to be so terrifying. Maybe if Jude was by your side, and if your family was there too, it wouldn’t feel so overwhelming. The idea of facing whatever was coming with both of them by your side suddenly didn’t feel so impossible. As Jude’s breathing slowed, and you realized he was drifting off to sleep, you stayed awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling. The thought of Paris loomed ahead, the cold December air, the intensity of the match, the weight of what might be happening with your body. But maybe, just maybe, if you had Jude and your dad there with you, it would all be okay. Eventually, you let yourself relax into Jude’s arms, closing your eyes, telling yourself that whatever was coming, you wouldn’t face it alone. Maybe, just maybe, it would all be okay.

You leaned against the counter, watching Jude pace around the kitchen, phone in hand, looking every bit as anxious as someone about to make the biggest business deal of their life. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Jude, are you seriously this nervous to call my dad? You’ve known him for how long now?” You giggled. 

“It’s different this time. You don’t get it, alright?” Jude stopped, glancing at you with a look of half-embarrassment, half-whining. 

“Oh, I get it,” you teased, folding your arms. “You’re about to ask him to a football match, not pitch for a place on the team.” He groaned, running a hand over his hair, the nerves clearly getting to him. 

“Angel, seriously,” he whined, “don’t make fun. This is… important.” He glanced at you. You weren’t sure why this was such a big deal to him. Like just ask him to the game? Simple as. So you raised an eyebrow. 

“Important? Jude, you’ve invited people to games before.” You explained dropping a bit of the humor and inquiring a bit more genuinely. 

“Yeah, but this is different.” He shot you a look and mumbled. You could see that he was genuinely stressed, and that only made your curiosity grow. 

“Different how?” you asked, stepping closer, playful but also wondering what had him so rattled. “Are you planning something secret?” You teased and Jude’s breath caught momentarily in fear you knew why this was a bigger deal until he let out a frustrated sigh, cheeks turning a little red as he waved you off. 

“I’m calling him,” he muttered, “but I need to do it in private. You’re making me nervous.” He told you sheepishly with a childish pout. But that word made you pause. 

“Private? Why?” You asked. He shot you an almost panicked glance and headed for the door. 

“Because you can’t hear this,” he called over his shoulder, already making a break for the living room. “Don’t listen in!” You blinked, watching him retreat. What on earth was going on. Jude closed the door behind him, breathing out heavily as he looked down at his phone again, preparing himself. This wasn’t just about inviting your dad to the game—that part was easy. It was about the real reason he wanted to meet him before the match. He needed to ask your dad something far more important, something that had been weighing on his mind for ages now. He knew how much your family meant to you, and he wanted to do this right. He wanted your dad’s blessing before asking you the biggest question of his life, your life. Jude’s hand hovered over your dad’s contact before he hit the call button, exhaling deeply as he heard the line ring.

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

Next part - Chapter 23 - The Right Time xx

[jolalibrary]

the day three words are said

frankie morales x f!reader | resurrected chances

they're simple. those three words. especially when you mean them

wordcount: 2k themes: mention of triple frontier plot, FLUFF, sweetness. love declarations. allusion to frankie doing bad things prior. but no use of y/n.

Frankie knows what love is.

He’s experienced it—in all of the different levels and varying forms. He’s experienced it where his breath has been taken away and others where it has crept up, gently tapped its finger across his shoulders and made him smile.

There’s the kind of love he has with his friends—his buddies. The ones bonded together by battle, blood and loss.

There’s the familial one, the kind he’s always known—always kept close.

Then, there’s the love he felt for his ex. The one who had been there, who he thought he loved with all he had, but later found that wasn’t true at all.

And then, then there was you.

You, who he’s sure he’s been in love with long before today. The signs have always been there. Brimming and growing from as far back as your two’s first date.

Your foot against his calf. Smile spreading, practically grinning as he tells you some story that he can’t even remember now. And then you leant forward, the fabric of your dress slipping from your skin. The starters had not even arrived when your hand slid over his: Frankie, shall we go somewhere else?

That’s how he found himself half an hour later, all dressed up, in a booth at McDonalds. Your finger stealing one of his fries, your grin larger than he’d seen on the night of Benny’s fight.

If Frankie were to look back and ask at what point he thinks he began falling in love with you, he’s sure it would be that moment.

The moment he tried to get the fry back from your finger, you managed to get sauce on your nose—him swiping it off with his finger, your eyes sparkling under the ceiling lights before he married his lips to yours.

Frankie hammers his knuckles against the door and puts his hands in his jacket pockets. All unsettled, awkward. Before he pulls them back out, wrapping, folding his arms over his chest.

He’d been about to adjust again when you pulled open the door.

Frankie isn't sure you even mean to, but you wrap him in goodness, light and warmth. He feels at ease and all of a sudden calm. Easily able to forget how long he's been wandering, all aimless, lost amongst forests and treacherous seas.

There hadn't been a plan. He'd dropped his son off, said the awful goodbye he dreads each time he has to—and then he drove.

And drove.

Finding himself outside of your door. Months of dates. Weeks of it sitting in his chest. Those three words clotting in his throat, growing larger, making it difficult to swallow.

It's why he's not surprised to find a confused expression greeting him, slowly morphing, extending out before it’s halted. Then, it's quickly consumed by a smile, a glimmer in your eye and a look of pure tenderness.

It’s a gaze which fills him with a warmth from the outside in. A chain reaction you enact within him with ease. A thing you’ve been able to do to him since the moment he first met you.

“Frankie—hi? Did… did we have plans?”

Removing his hat, he shakes his head. Fingers, carding through his hair, catching on a knot as he watches your head tilt.

“Do you w-wanna come in?”

Following you in, the aroma of you meets his nose—the scent which is so undefinable, yet so you.

Just like the furnishings, all airy, but snug—a soft glow from the lamp in the corner spraying delicate amber across all it can touch.

His eyes glance over filled photo frames, people he’s met and some he’s heard stories of—his fingerprint still on one from the first time he was here. A question rolling from his tongue and a story from yours.

There are also the ones filled with him, your grin illuminated, his own once foreign to him, but now forever captured. Because you make it easy for him to just breathe, to stop, allow him to just be.

His eyes slide, moving to something new, something colourful and out of place—his heart almost stopping, halting altogether.

Because there, in a frame (he knows must be new), is the art Luca had given you the last time he saw you. The dragon you’d whispered to his son about drawing, all coloured in your favourite shades, with the sun in the corner mirroring a smile he knows you helped draw.

He’s barely listening when you ask him if he wants a drink, all set to leave the room—likely to retrieve him one all the same—when he speaks up.

Clears his throat, and shifts the lump which has been slowly forming on the unannounced drive over.

“Can we talk?”

The words catch and hit the air oddly. Barely a sentence, no more than three words, yet they drape over the room—hanging, thickening like smog around the two of you as you pause in your movements.

Especially because he knows he has said them without confidence—or intent.

It’s instant, the way your face flickers with emotions��some easier to read than others.

Frankie likes that about you, that your face tells every story, whether pain or happiness. Nothing concealed, nothing easily able to be hidden. You’re genuine and authentic; you’re all kind and real.

Nothing too much, or too little.

Just like two nights ago, when he rang—flustered and stressed. You hear him out, calming him. Lightly asking him what he needs, not running for the hills as his to-do list spoiled the air. You just took things from him, removing them from his shoulders, all those miles away from him.

“Frankie, are you... Fuck—is Luca okay?”

Nodding, quickly. Reassuringly.

He gently places his hat onto your sideboard, staring at you. “He’s fine. Promise.”

It does nothing to settle you. He can tell, something he notices almost immediately. Something he can’t form the words to correct because he’s focusing on willing himself not to unspool. Wanting to do this right, not unravel in a mess at your feet.

Mostly, Frankie doesn’t want to just let it all flow from him without care, or spill the truth and paint your ears in all that he feels.

Because he’s more than okay.

If anything, he feels more than he ever thought he could.

He feels so much for you, he’s struggling with how to say it. The words tangling somewhere in the back of his oesophagus, frantic to emerge—to thrive in the space the two of you have made for one another.

You shift on the spot, worry stitching itself into the smile you try to show.

His confession had been burning a hole in his tongue for a while. Having first appeared as an ember weeks ago, growing larger when he opened his fridge and found your note—those scribbled-out instructions and timings, your little 'have fun' and a drawn heart.

You step closer, panic carving deeper into your face. “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay. If t—this is too much, with Luca and work—”

“No! No baby, no. It’s…”

He takes a breath.

Your hands coming across your front, fingers looping together over your waist—a swallow heard, all loud, practically punching a hole in the silence.

Sighing, Frankie rolls his lips. “I think about you without even trying.”

His heart hammers in his chest—bashing itself against his ribs.

The sound reverberates around him, travelling up to his skull. The congestion in his chest eases, and the fluttering that’s been nothing but incessant, slows.

Because he’s setting it free, letting it escape, allowing you to have it.

So he takes another breath. Flexes his hands.

“I’ve… I’ve fucked up a lot, baby. I—I did some things in my life that I’m not entirely proud of.”

He watches as your mouth clamps shut, body stilling. A nervousness quivering in the air, but less so than before. Something which urges him on, gives him the push to continue as you remain dutifully silent—allowing him to speak.

“I especially—I wasn’t in a great headspace after Colombia. Rough doesn’t… it doesn’t even begin to cover the half of it. Fuck. I even went and convinced myself that there wasn’t much left for me—falling down a hole that was nothing but pitch black. Except for Luca.”

You swallow, and it sounds louder in the quiet. More so as he lets his words settle, soak.

Frankie lets his fingers brush over his palm, thumb cupping over them as he takes a breath.

“Guys like me… we don’t do what I did and think we deserve a good ending to their story. I know that. And I’ve done it all before, right? Tried to settle down. Tried to be good. But that kind of stuff, it was never in the cards for me.”

It smooths, the expression on your face.

Slowly fading into something blank, with no edges or easily discernible things, he can begin to unpick.

“I was stuck in a dark place for a while—didn’t have much hope of getting out on my own, or ever—to be honest. So here I am, wandering around for years on autopilot, going through the motions. Reserved in thinking this is it. Everything’s just background noise. Wake up, eat, work, have Luca overnight, sleep and repeat.

“That is until Benny strong-armed me into showing up to his fight. And that day—baby, I’ll never forget it.”

He smiles and lets it sparkle out across his face, watching intently as your eyes widen ever so slightly. Engulfing him in that same sunshine and love all over again.

“Fuck, that first time you smiled at me? Baby, I was doomed. Didn’t even stand a chance. It was like… suddenly, the world’s a little less sad. Like I felt a little less lonely. Things all a little bit brighter. Am I making any sense? Because what I’m trying to say is, I didn’t feel like it was impossible. I felt seen. For the first time in… fuck… ages. It felt like I had a light at the end of the tunnel. And, if it isn’t clear, it was you.”

“Frankie…”

He steps closer, bridging the gap.

Lifting his hand, cupping both your cheeks. He tilts those eyes up, so they embed themselves into his soul—just like he wants them to. Like he needs them, too.

“I am in love with you,” he adds, more in a whisper than before. “Not just because you see me, not because you do things like fetch my son some PJs, grab groceries, and cook me a meal. But because it isn’t hard to love you—I don’t have to force it. I don’t have to remind myself to ask you things, I want to.”

Twinkling and glistening, your eyes blink. Mouth shifting, twitching, before spreading into a smile. He takes the chance to stroke his thumb against the edge of it, feels it, and basks in it as his other hand drops down to your hip, fingers spreading, fanning across.

“You done?”

Pressing his forehead against yours, Frankie feels your fingers on his temple, soft and gentle—playing with his curls, as he nods. His nose brushes against yours, watching your lips curl up into a beam, cheeks rising, as he finds his own begin to mirror it.

Then, he hears it, all soft and shaky. “Good, because I am very much in love with you too, Francisco.”

Closing his eyes, Frankie basks in it.

The feel of it—all of it. The way it sounds to hear you say those words back—the way you let his name fall like a silk ribbon from your tongue.

So much so, that he’s sure he’s being wrapped in it—your words. Being pulled into a pool of love, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have, ever deserve—suddenly diving, swimming in it. But here it is. Your love, merging with his.

And it feels right, fitting.

Then you repeat it again. And again. Whispering it like a chant, those three words, until his lips capture yours, tasting the words—feeling them down his throat as he singes them against your mouth.

Pressing each syllable and letter to yours, then your neck, your collarbone. Until you’re both stumbling, tripping over clothes that are being removed before you're on your back on your sofa, and Frankie is drinking you in.

The person he’s in love with—the one he realises he’s always been looking for.

The one he's been waiting for.

an: fuck i love these two.

thank you so much to G for the help with this, including the gifted elements that made this what it is.

[itsclydebitches]

There's something I find pretty messed up about Little's part of the story. Penny is dead. The story puts focus on this and how it's effecting Ruby and is why Little's death is what breaks Ruby. The volume ends though with Little coming back so it's a happy end, right? Except Penny is still dead and never coming back. And they are going back to a world where people die when they are killed. It's like "Forget about your dead friend cause we got one where your actions don't have consequences."

Yeah, that's an issue with the Ascension arc as a whole. As discussed previously, we're already starting from a place of confusing messages because the world can't decide what Ascension exactly is. Some beings lose all their memories and (arguably as a result) their sense of self. Some just seem to get cool upgrades. Some change in such monumental ways they probably can't go back to their old life even if they wanted to (can Somewhat ever live with the other mice again now that they're like fifty times their size?). And some, Like Ruby, undergo no changes at all except a convenient and ambiguous ~emotional clarity~

So Ascension is a catch-all "Anything could happen" situation where all options, no matter how shady they appear to the audience, are eventually presented as #good by the show... except I'm 100% sure they only come across that way BECAUSE they happen to side characters we're not invested in/are leaving behind. Would people honestly have been happy if Ruby:

Completely forgot who she was (King)

Got some crazy physical upgrade that would fundamentally change the power dynamics of the show/other her in Remnant/imply that she's a faunus to strangers if she got some animal trait (the Caterpillar/Somewhat)

Came away with a new "purpose" and decided she didn't want to be a Huntress anymore (the Paper Pleasers)

There's a reason Ruby did not change except to inexplicably regain her confidence because the show and on some level recognizes that these options are indeed an awful kind of "death," something that would be bad to do to your main character (baring a monumental shift in the show). When we talk about the importance of growth (in real life and in fiction) we're referencing a context in which a person changes slowly over time, adapting to each change in a natural way, all of it a combination of environmental factors and personal agency. To just have some magical tree instantly change you without consent, making you "better" by its own, undefined parameters... that's not wonderful, that's horrifying! But as you say, even if we overlook all that and come at Ascension from a direction the story wants, accepting and praising such an aspect of this world... Team RWBY doesn't live in that world. What did they learn from this then? Yay for people who live in alternate realities because they get to become "better" rather than dying? Good for them, but our friends are still dead and our lives are still on the line.

If RWBY wanted this arc they not only needed to reeeeeally clean up what Ascension is/how it works, but decide on the message they're trying to impart. Because what we got, on a literal level, is Ruby being depressed enough to choose ending (that version of) her life, instead being rewarded for that choice by a pantheon she's kinda fighting against (in a way that both skips her development and ignores every other implied rule of Ascension), and is returning to a world where none of this matters because death is a Permanent Thing That She's Going to Be Seeing a Whole Lot More of Soon.

Penny is dead. Many other allies are dead. Weiss' Kingdom is gone. Salem is set to exterminate the rest of Remnant, and instead of dealing with any of that Volume 9 gave Team RWBY a (literal) fantasy world where everything is just fine, actually. Wouldn't it be cool if no one actually died and whenever it seems like they did they'd just come back as an upgraded version of themselves? Yeah! Too bad that's not the reality they're heading back to.

Honestly, the way to clean up all of Volume 9 for me is to slap a "It was just a dream" disclaimer on it. Volume 10 we learn that Ruby had a crazy, contradictory fever dream post-battle in which the biggest trauma she's ever faced is magically fixed by her subconscious? Yeah, that tracks. More than taking Volume 9 at face value.

[ko-existing]

For y'all that get really logical and heady,

Not even the most premiere scientists, here, can figure out "existence," in its entirety. Maybe they will maybe they won't 😉 Though, a lot alludes to what we discuss here...anyway it's just out of reach for the "mind" and logic...

And that's because it's a paradox, it's not for the "mind," it's not conceptual. Our true self, the substrate of all illusion, is stillness. It's silent. It doesn't do anything but remain. Nothing can quantify it, THAT is neither big nor small. It's not the "universe" or the "multiverse" everything is nothing, ultimately. (The Universe is an illusion, yes, but a very pretty one. I enjoy this archetype of illusion #comfy)

Where does THAT come from? It always was and is...in no time, in no space, it has no age, no form. And quite frankly, "ego and mind," might freak out about this once you peer into *THAT* lol, maybe not though, mine did initially 🤣

"THAT" is a blink of an eye, an everlasting evening, the speed of light, an eternal kingdom. It's everything and nothing and it's so delicious. If I had to give "THAT" another word, it is Love. But even Love is a concept...tho from this illusory "ego" perspective it is love 100%. But it is still Love, just a soft love...a flowing love...and undefinable love.

And if you're feeling guilty for "leaving behind" people. Creation is nothing and everything...everything and nothing will just "slip through your fingers." Especially, THAT, trying to "figure out" *THAT* will have your mind in loops. No use in trying to coral anything, or for that matter infinite illusory creativity lol. No use in doing anything other than creating your experience. You'll find all your answers in THAT, anyway...it's what you truly are. Which is where Im getting all of this, the core of "myself"

And for those of you wondering what happens to your other selves, or other people in your old experience. Okay, just illusory bubbles of creation coalescing in and out. Like infinite creation means that you have infinite choices in the illusionary quiver of creation. Anything and nothing will be...aside your experience. No, the illusion will not implode...unless you want it to lol...but other illusions remain in the infinite substrate of THAT. Its a paradox and not worth going much deeper than that...ifykyk...youll know when you know and you already know lol.

You'll be curating new experiences with varied versions of your past curations. Simple. But like don't put so much credence in anything...you can shape your series of illusory curations any which way you want. You'll be shaping your experiences consciously aware or not...so you can autonomously create the change you want to see or let the illusory concept of "destiny" or w/e take over. Simple.

Why would I do anything if Im just eternal awareness? ...Dude why not? This illusion is your creation...these human emotions, experiences, thoughts, concepts are for play. They are for filling in eternity or however you wish to "define" it lol

Why would realized folx wanna help others get to the "end of time" "THAT"? Why not? I have so much love to give. And I know that Im choosing this world to experience as of current...as much as you are choosing to experience this world, and have these pointers come into your creation field.

...THAT (us) can experience in an infinite myriad of ways...and it's....indescribable. It's so fun and so love 👁️

The stillness of what we truly are can be experienced through infinite lenses.

And sure, you can go rest in the "void" too. You know yourself already...it "feels" very familiar. It's never lost. It's right here, right now.

none of this is actually advice^^^ just a pointer! THAT is for you only, THAT is for your illusion only. My creation is mine, and yours is yours. But happy to share my pointer. Just remember, all these words are nothing...they can make this confusing tbh, simplicity is the best.

https://open.spotify.com/track/4TaK6SAjHie2VGkiKzdZAc?si=RhODTJ5lTcG7V2ABCeQSkw

https://open.spotify.com/track/142IXMbGnv5QpJtiRRnRfl?si=SpWb4S6-RGeC_eHyBWFVNQ

https://open.spotify.com/track/1TTG3x2t5Whc0Kk28orLeV?si=vgIjltjUSY2mYFmuGt5v9A

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

[aboutcustardcreams]

Help me hold onto you

warnings: none; bit angsty. Doctor freaks out because she’s scared for you.

part one

“I knew this was a bad idea and neither of you would listen to me!”  

Yaz was frantic, furious and terrified. She was pacing in a circle around your stiff form, arms crossed over her chest, eyes on you. She was confused. Properly confused. From the exact moment you fell silent, she knew something was terribly wrong. And when she touched you, almost timidly calling out your name, her suspicions were confirmed.  

The Doctor spun around the moment she heard Yaz’s muffled cry. Color drained from her face as soon as her eyes landed on you. “No– no, no, no, no!” Her voice started in a low murmur before rising in a more urgent tone. She rushed to you, frantic just like Yaz had been, mouth contorted in an expression of pure confusion and pain. By the color of your skin, the first thing one would think is that you turned to stone, but it wasn’t quite right. However, you still were as stiff as one. 

“Hey, hey, come on now stardust, talk to me–”. Your body twitched, however slightly, when she ran her fingers to cup your cheeks.

Yaz frowned worriedly at how unnaturally unresponsive you were. 

Your expression was a mixture of terror and confusion. Your empty eyes bored into some undefined point ahead of you. But even when the Doctor managed to guide your chin towards her, you still wouldn’t see her. Whatever your mind was showing you was impeding you from locking eyes with her. The Doctor hated that. She needed to bask in your eyes again, in those lively and warm eyes that had nothing to do with those she was staring at now, of a dull light gray, almost stoney, devoid of any glimpse of you. The real you.

Yaz took a step towards you and the Doctor. “She’s–” to her friend’s trembling voice the Doctor’s breath hitched. “Her body is so cold and her eyes–”. Yaz’s frown deepened, as she tried to make sense of what was happening. Your mouth was contorted into a grimace, as if you were scared, trying to pull away from something or someone. “Can’t she see us? Is she in pain? What’s happening, Doc. What do we do?”

But the Doctor wasn’t listening, or well, she was– but couldn’t answer yet. One of the most annoying things according to the Doctor was having thousands of questions and no answer. She stuttered, trying to connect the brain to her mouth before speaking, but she short circuited. She clenched her eyes forcefully and tried to think. 

“Doctor-” 

You were in danger, because of her. The person she silently vowed to always protect was standing right in front of her, looking like a statue enduring the most excruciating pain. She couldn’t breathe. She shouldn’t be allowed to breathe. Not when you were in such a state. 

“Doctor,” Yaz tried again, voice getting louder this time. 

“What? What is it?” The Doctor didn’t miss the hurt in her friend’s brown eyes when she turned around. Yaz took a step back, clenching her jaw while doing so.

The Doctor mentally cursed herself, noticing the distress and partial fear in her friend's eyes. Reaching out her arms towards Yaz, she exhaled, “I’m sorry, I’m truly sorry…”, her apology was sincere, Yaz knew that, yet it hurt. She swallowed thickly, her lips curled upwards only for a second. “I shouldn’t have lashed out like that–it’s just that… I don’t know why this is happening and I’m worried for her, for you.”

“It’s alright–” Her voice was timid when she replied. 

“I’ll take you two out of this cursed place, I promise.” 

She seemed to have regained her composure, or so that’s what she wanted herself and Yaz to believe. There was no time, really no time to portray weakness. 

Her hands came cupping your face again, “Hey stardust–” an exhale, “I don’t know if you can hear me, but don’t worry– It will all be over soon,” she winced, her thumb tracing your jawline that felt like sandpaper. “Oh, and for the record, it wasn’t my turn to get scared. Can’t always be my turn–” 

The Doctor heard Yaz’s quiet chuckle at her attempt at humor, which caused her own lips to curve upwards for a moment. Normally you’d have answered in kind, teased her or laughed along with Yaz. You’d always laugh at her jokes, even when they were terrible. 

“I want you to know that I’m right here, and no matter what, I’ll save you– I’m not gonna leave you– I’m never gonna leave you,” she cooed, finally let those tears slip from her eyes to her cheeks. 

Calm down, Doc. You always figure it out in the end, don’t you? 

She could almost hear you saying those exact words to her. Smiling cheekily, with a confident nod of your head and your hands tucked in your pockets. S 

With a watery chuckle, she muttered, “Yes, yes I do. You’re right. Always right, you.” 

Yaz frowned, trying to understand if the Doctor was creating a psychic link with you. She couldn’t be talking to herself now, could she? 

“Alright let’s see–” The Doctor pulled out her sonic to scan your form and everything close to you. To her horror, she found out that your heart rate was incredibly high, so high, the risks of a heart failure were duplicating at every passing second. You were running with a fever too. Mild now, destined to rise later. 

“This makes no sense at all–” she reasoned to herself, exasperation filled her tone.

“What makes no sense?”

She avoided that question, and instead she said, “Yaz— you need to go back on the TARDIS now.”

Yaz scoffed bitterly and her frown deepened, as if the Doctor had spoken a language totally foreign to her. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

“Yes you are!” The Time Lady argued back. 

Her brown eyes started welling up with tears, “You do it all the time. You push everyone away, when things get difficult. But it doesn’t have to be that way. It doesn’t work that way. Let me help-”

The Doctor faltered, her expression a mixture of frustration and helplessness. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why?” She croaked out. 

“Because you’re human!” she hissed, her hands no longer on your face turned into fists to her sides. “Because the risks that something was to happen to you or her are high and the chances that I am going to lose one of you, because of my negligence are even higher.”

It’s not that Yaz didn’t understand that, because she did. But you were her friend, and she was worried about you. She could almost imagine you telling her not to let the Doctor play the hero by herself. But with your life on a thread, Yaz was sure that would have been an impossible mission to accomplish. 

“Can you tell me at least what’s happening to her? She’s my friend too–”

Time seemed to slow down for a moment. The Doctor felt like all the oxygen had been taken away from her at Yaz’s choice of words. One in particular. Friend. You were Yaz’s friend, and she obviously cared about you. But were you her… friend? Could you be something so reductive to her? The Doctor gave Yaz a hesitant nod, her lips pressed together before parting. That was not the place nor the time to be questioning her feelings for you. She concluded you were trapped in some sort of alternative dimension, staring into things that weren’t really there, but were draining the life out of you. 

“S-she’s trapped– something is–” she stalled, “or rather someone, I don’t know, I’m not sure– but it’s powerful, ancient, almost impossible…-” then she made a face. A face of realization. Yaz knew that expression. It was the kind of face that she put on when an idea popped out in her mind. Her brilliant big mind. She averted her gaze from Yaz to you, hovering her sonic once again at the mist at your feet. 

“Oh–” The sonic beeped, so loud, she almost dropped it. “Of course!” Yaz almost spotted a glimpse of hope in her eyes, relief even. Knowing the source of the problem is a first good step towards the solution. The sonic detected something partially organic, that was once alive, and that in a way still was. Souls, thousands of them, trapped in some sort of Limbo, trapped in the mist filling the planet of Nectoxia. 

There was a reason why Nectoxia appeared so strangely desolate and neglected. There was nothing wrong with the gateway, quite the opposite in fact. People could still cross it, without ever making it back.  

“What?” Yaz needed to know, “you figured it out, didn’t you?”

The Doctor’s eyes locked into Yaz’s one more time. The relief suddenly turned into a new form of despair and fear. If she was right, the Time Lady had very little time to bring you back before it was too late. “I think I know who’s doing this to her. And if I’m right, oh- how I hate to be right sometimes–”, she grumbled, almost childishly. 

“Who?”

She smiled bitterly. “Got me unprepared for a minute. But I’m clever. So boo to him. It’s the Veilstryx, a psychic alien that feeds on people’s wildest fears and makes them real. He twists memories to his own advantage, makes them painful and unbearable. Physically and emotionally atrocious, until the victims suffocate in their own…worst nightmare.”

“So she’s dreaming?” Yaz stated, carefully darting her eyes towards you.  

“Yes. Sort of. Kind of. I need to get to her. I’m the only one that can push through her mind. It’s invasive, probably ethically wrong, but I won’t let this stop me from saving her. She can be mad at me later. Plenty of time to be cross with me, really.” 

Yaz’s lips curved upwards only slightly, relieved that the Doctor finally came up with a plan. All was not lost yet. “What about me? What can I do?”

“What I already told you,” she insisted and that was not up to debate. “You need to leave. Go back on the TARDIS, she will keep ya safe. The Veilstryx… he could come for you too and we cannot let it happen. I will not let it happen,” she insisted, refusing to have another of her friends slip away from her like that. Seeing the mild hesitation in Yaz’s features, the Doctor’s eyes softened. She reached up to cup Yaz’s cheeks, staring into her eyes with a mixture of love and guilt. “I’ve been so reckless with you two, but I’m going to fix this. I need to get her out of this psychic link before it …k-kills her, because it might and Yaz…”, she struggled to swallow the lump in her throat, her voice breaking slightly. “I can’t let it happen, do you understand? Tell me you understand.” 

Yaz knew the Doctor’s hearts. She could see through, so she gave in and nodded slowly. 

“Okay,” Yaz finally conceded, her voice heavy with tears. “I get it. I really do. Just–”, she breathed in a short, shaky breath, “please, be safe.”

“Always safe, me,” she grinned, yet it didn’t reach her ears.  

 “I’ll set these exact coordinates so you’ll find yourself in the TARDIS.” 

“Brilliant” The Doctor cheered, gently patting Yaz’s shoulder and praying to all the stars the Veilstryx wouldn’t get to her too. “Ten points to you.”

She chuckled, quietly and sadly, “I’m catching up, see?” 

“I had no doubts you would’ve,” she responded in a fond whisper.

Her focus went back on you and with her thumb on your temple, she closed her eyes.

Contact