#expat parenting

[gothicprep]

"you were an oops baby" was such a common insult that i remember from elementary school. but in reality, both of my parents have told me multiple times that i was "planned down to the month" because they wanted me to be old enough to not fuss on an international flight when everything was sorted with a US-UK job transfer. and that's significantly weirder than being the product of an accidental pregnancy. thank god the bullies were not sophisticated enough to connect the dots on that one.

[5eyed]

another yayo just for fun :)

[miss-biophys]

My daughter is making invitations for her 9th birthday party... in 3 languages depending on what the particular friend prefers/speaks the best.

I couldn't be more proud.

Czech/English/Dutch

[duchessofostergotlands]

Why don’t you like Bradley?

He annoys the fuck out of me, and the fact he's such a national treasure makes it even worse (listen to the podcast for my short rant). He has the humour of a toddler and that fake, attention seeking laugh which goes on and on even though no one has ever said anything funny enough to justify that reaction. I just don't like that he acts like he's the star of the show. It's a quiz show. I watch it for the quiz, not him laughing for ten minutes because he made a fat joke!

[natandacat]

Its become clear to me rather early that intelligence as we discuss it today is baked into eugenics, bc of the way people get genuinely grandiloquent and emotional about my intellect, always in a way that reinforces a kind of biological hierarchy. Like I'm not just smart, I'm "superior", I "dominate", etc. And its not lost on me how many of these hyperbolic admirers have been white adults, although I've sadly seen it parroted and internalized by all my peers (especially more racialized peers who were made to feel especially inferior). What is also not lost on me is how vehement my father was about the importance of being an intellectual, his way of desperately hanging onto that idea as a way to retain respect, how different his desperation was compared to the confidence of those white adults, and how many other migrants of his generation say the exact same words I've heard him say ad nauseam. So yeah. I dont much care about intelligence.

[mishkakagehishka]

Btw do you guys know that i fact check even for my shitposts

[nyxelestia]

The irony about the working class associations is that if you go by their technical or original definitions, it was the other way around. "Expat" and "immigrant" actually do -- or at least did, once upon a time -- mean specific, different things. An immigrant was someone who moved permanently to another country, going as far as to change citizenship. An expat was someone living relatively temporarily. "Relatively" because sometimes that "temporary" living situation could be for years, even a decade or two. But, they were still considered citizens of another country, and intending to return to said country. They were only in 'this' country for a while, almost always to work or support family that was working there. I feel like retirees using the word 'expat' for themselves is what really started fucking things up, since they were people functionally planning to spend the rest of their days in this new country but still considering themselves citizens of the old one, and did not WANT citizenship in this new country.

the dichotomy between the "immigrant" (someone from the global south who moves to the north) and the "expat" (someone from the global north who moves to the south) makes me feel fucking crazy. a white person who moves to asia is an expat but an asian who moves to the west is an immigrant. & how those terms are politicized and assigned class statuses, like the word "immigrant" tends to imply a blue collar worker (even if that isn't the case) while "expat" implies a white collar worker. the associations with "expat neighbourhoods" in asian countries is very very different from those of "immigrant neighbourhoods" in western nations. also how "immigrants" who dont assimilate are seen as "failing" and bad, lower class, a burden on society, etc. whereas "expats" not assimilating into local culture is expected and viewed as a sign of their higher status. the double standards are so insane

[centrepiecefurnishing]

Rediscover the Luxury of Reupholstery: Why Quality Matters for Your Home

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[inesestradavigil]

Migrating with children

The UN says this has been a year of a high rate of immigration. Moving today seems much easier and more affordable. Why did such a prominent level of people decide to migrate? Well, there are several reasons, wars, climate issues, financial opportunities, and political reasons, among other personal ones… People seem to look for places to have a better quality of life for themselves and their…

[roamingmom]

Expat in Spain - Part 2 - Living Outside Your Comfort Zone

As promised, the second excerpt from the Spanish ex-pat files- Living Outside Your Comfort Zone.  Click here for the first installment. Backstory We always planned to do a “gap” year in Spain but we wanted the kids to be big enough to remember some of the experience. But not too big. They still needed to be in primary school so they would transition well and we also had to wait for our dog, Kob,…

[faeriekit]

New In Town (dp x dc)

ALRIGHT! 👏🏽 A prompt. (Or, well. A premise.) I’m schtealing a lot of worldbuilding from @mediumsizedpidegon‘s post here so bear with me please.

The Bats, however they catch wind of Amity, catch wind of Amity Park. Of course they do. Amity Park has a very distinct presence— Or, well, a lack of a presence. It may have an abundance of documented weirdness online, from folk stories to abandoned livestreams to concerning details in expats’ online blogs.

But there is no online evidence of Amity Park that leaves Amity Park.

So. What is a family of detectives to do when confronted with the need to gather physical evidence? Road Trip, baby!🏄🏽‍♂️🚗🚞🚡

Everyone hops in the car/Batplane and makes their way to Amity Park; they make hotel reservations, ring up the only reasonably rich enough people to even touch their social circle (the Manson family, and Vlad Masters, apparently), make an itinerary for all the documented tourist stops to hit up while in town off the town website, and prepare themselves for whatever dimensional weirdness is causing a complete tech blackout on the town and an inability to be found by satellite.

They get about ten feet into Amity proper when they meet the first local.

His name is Danny. He’s nice! Affable. He looks a lot like any other Wayne sibling, actually, if a little on the younger side. He notices it’s their first time in town. Do they need any help getting around?

Best way to get information is to ingratiate with a local, so...sure, why not? They get a free tour guide, Danny gets to show off his town; they see all the sights, like the local burger joint, the school, the Manson home, the town hall, the city proper. They’re having a clothing swap in the temple parking lot, actually. You should go check it out!

For whatever reason, it’s all...Punk? Goth? There’s a couple of lolita dressed tossed in, and some crocheted things. Everyone has a trunk out their car, eyeliner, and at least two piercings in their face; everyone here seems to know each other on a personal level. Well, small towns are small towns. Whatever.

Danny isn’t deterred by their reactions. If they want, there’s the movie in park tonight! If not, they can catch dinner, though; their hotel restaurant closes at 8pm sharp. (He just...knows this off the top of his head?)

They split up. Some of the family people watch at the restaurant. Everyone is...weirdly courteous to them. A little standoffish. But not at the Wayne name, just at...them being there.

The people at the park find out they’re watching The Night of the Living Dead. This would be much more normal if the park wasn’t also clearly the cemetery, in the middle of July? Which is. Why? It’s not even for any holiday or special time of the year? It’s just...clearly a movie night in the summer? There are little kids here, playing among the gravestones while their parents set out blankets and snacks. Why is this considered a family event??

Well. At least Jason has fun.

Everyone goes to bed and reconvenes in the morning. When they wake up and roll out for the day, Danny manages to find them again, this time with two new friends, bright and chipper in the morning. There’s a farmer’s market today! Everyone’s worked really hard on this week’s harvest; don’t they want to see?

...Sure?

And the longer they’re in Amity Park, the more they begin to realize how convenient it is, that they’re ferried around so easily; that there’s immediately a local who takes a liking to them, that there’s always something else to do; how suspicious it is that no data can get in or out of Amity now that they’re in it, or how they can’t seem to get close to any of the more suspicious parts of town they want to infiltrate. The town is entirely closed to outside influences. The fashion trends are strange and foreign. They only eat things grown in the area, by people they know, and it’s all sort of...green. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone knows where to go. Who to talk to. The superstitions— make no wishes, step on no cracks, wear no large jewelry, cross no shadows of any person (living or dead, apparently), speak to no one without full view of their eyes. 

But nothing seems dangerous— not until a few of them try to investigate Axiom Labs, a subsidiary of the otherwise national Dalvco company, and are met to the face with a blaster that uses tech they’ve never seen, by a red fighter in an ultra-synthetic suit.

Overnight, the extremely polite and welcoming town becomes a hostile entity to fight their way out of.

[metamatar]

When electronics manufacturing took off in China in the 1980s, rural women who had just begun moving to the cities made up the majority of the factory workforce. They didn’t have many other options. Managers at companies like Foxconn preferred to hire women because they believed them to be more obedient [...]

Hiring a young, female workforce in India comes with its own requirements — which include reassuring doting parents about the safety of their daughters. The company offers workers free food, lodging, and buses to ensure a safe commute at all hours of the day. On days off, women who live in Foxconn hostels have a 6 p.m. curfew; permission is required to spend the night elsewhere. “[If] they go out and not return by a specific time, their parents would be informed,” a former Foxconn HR manager told Rest of World. “[That’s how] they offer trust to their parents.”

[...] the Tamil Nadu government sent a strong signal welcoming Foxconn and other manufacturers: Authorities approved new regulations that would increase workdays from eight to 12 hours. This meant that Foxconn and other electronics factories would be able to reduce the number of shifts needed to keep their production line running from three to two, just like in China. [...] Political parties aligned with the government called the bill “anti-labor” and, during the vote, walked out of the legislative assembly. After the bill passed, trade unions in the state announced a series of actions including a demonstration on motorbikes, civil disobedience campaigns, and protests in front of the ruling party’s local headquarters. The government shelved its new rule within four days.

Indian Foxconn workers told Rest of World that eight hours under intense pressure is already hard to bear. “I’ll die if it’s 12 hours of work,” said Padmini, the assembly line worker.

For the expatriate workers, the slower pace of the factory floors in India is its own shock to the system. A Taiwanese manager at a different iPhone supplier in the Chennai area told Rest of World that India’s 8-hour shifts and industry-standard tea breaks were a drag on production. “You have barely settled in on your seat, and the next break comes,” the manager lamented.

In China, Foxconn relies on lax enforcement of the country’s labor law — which limits workdays to eight hours and caps overtime — as well as lucrative bonuses to get employees to work 11 hours a day during production peaks [...] five Chinese and Taiwanese workers said they were surprised to discover that their Indian colleagues refused to work overtime. Some attributed it to a weak sense of responsibility; others to what they perceived as Indian people’s low material desire. “They are easily content,” an engineer deployed from Zhengzhou said. “They can’t handle even a bit more pressure. But if we don’t give them pressure, then we won’t be able to get everything right and move production here in a short time.” [...] At the same time, the expat staff enjoy the Indian work culture of tea breaks, chatting with colleagues, and going home on time. They recognize they are helping the company spread a Chinese work culture that they know can be unhealthy. [...]

On the assembly line, Foxconn’s targets were tough to reach, workers said. Jaishree, 21, joined the iPhone shop floor in 2022 as a recent graduate with a degree in mathematics. (With India’s high level of unemployment, Foxconn’s assembly line has plenty of women with advanced degrees, including MBAs.) [...] “At the start, during my eight-hour shift, I did about 300 [screws]. Now, I do 750,” she said. “We have to finish within time, otherwise they will scold us.” [...]

Mealtimes are an issue, too. In December 2021, thousands of Indian Foxconn employees protested after some 250 colleagues contracted food poisoning. In response, the company changed food contractors, and increased its monthly base salary from 14,000 rupees to 18,000 rupees ($168 to $216) — double the minimum wage prescribed by the Tamil Nadu labor department for unskilled workers. [...]

Working conditions take a physical toll. Padmini has experienced hair loss because she has to wear a skull cap and work in air-conditioned spaces, she said. “Neck pain is the worst, since we are constantly bending down and working.” She has irregular periods, which she attributes to the air conditioning and the late shifts. “[Among] girls with me on the production line, some six girls have this problem,” Padmini said. Workers said they regularly see colleagues become unwell. “The day before yesterday, a girl fainted and they took her to the hospital,” [...] Padmini, at 26, believes she is close to the age where the company might consider her too old. “They used to hire women up to age 30, now they hire only up to 28,” she said.

[parkerflix]

—bet u wanna

min ho x gn!reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: enemies to lovers(?), reader is Q’s twin not twin ( tangerine & lemon vibes)

synopsis: your back and forth flirting with min ho takes an unexpected turn during chuseok.

warnings: some mentions of self-doubt

a/n: 1st fic from the 1k celebration! I do have a part two in mind, but i’m not sure if people would like that! lmk ur thoughts!

edit: here is part two!

You made your way over to Q’s dorm, knowing that you would have to see him.

Minho was the bane of your existence, and you were never one to enjoy his presence. He had seemed to be in an even worse mood recently with Kitty’s arrival and her meddling with everyone’s life. You loved Kitty, even though she did have her moments where she was a little all over the place. You had actually met her before the rest did, talking to her sometimes when Dae was facetiming her and you were studying with him.

Knocking on the door, you were surprised to see Minho open the door. He stared you down for a second, the air being awkward between you two the only sound being the facial mister in his other hand.

“Are you going to just stand there or are you going to let me in?”

Minho rolled his eyes and moved out of the doorway to let you in.

Waltzing in, you took to knocking on Q’ door, hearing some groaning coming from the other side. You opened the door, seeing Q laying in his bed still half asleep.

Grabbing his blanket, you puled it off of him.

“Morning sleepy head!”

Q groaned and lifted his head up from his pillow.

“Why are you here now? I thought we were meeting up for coffee.”

“My sweet darling brother, I couldnt just come because I miss you?”

He squinted at you, not buying your story.

“Okay I wanted to seeing if someone was here, but it seems that they didn’t stay the night today.” before he could respond, Kitty walked into the room yawning and seemingly in her pjs.

Your eyes widened and so did hers when she realized you were standing there.

“Kitty!”

“Yn!”

“I promise this isn’t what it looks like-”

You backed out of the room, awkwardly shaking your head.

“It’s fine! I’ll just be out here!”

Closing their bedroom door you heard the most obnoxious laughter behind you. You took a deep breath in, and turned your head to see Minho sitting on their couch with a cup of tea in his hands. You went to go sit down next to him, sighing.

“So it looks like you found out.”

“Were none of you planning on telling me?”

“Of course I wasn’t going to tell you, I’m not your handler.”

“Well of course not, you’re my lover.” you said leaning close to his face, batting your eyelashes at him.

You both stared at each other, and he nudged you away, feeling slightly awkward with you so close to his face. He didn’t want you so close, his heartbeat being slightly faster at your proximity.

“Shut up. That’s not even remotely funny.”

“I never said it was a joke.”

You both started bickering about it, not noticing when Kitty and Q came out of their room.

They both stared at you guys arguing with a small smile on each of their faces. It seemed obvious to everyone except the two of you that you guys were into each other, but if they told you guys they knew both of you would start spiraling.

Q liked seeing his sibling so happy, especially with Chuseok around the corner. Both of you weren’t going anywhere since you guys were expats, but seeing everyone go home always made you more homesick than normal. He remembered when his parents decided to adopt you, saying it would be nice for him to have a sibling that was his age. He was worried that you were going not like him, but you both took to each other fast. Being joined at the hip since your adoption, you always joked that you guys were twins, despite not even having the same birthday. But you made sure no one knew that your birthday wasn’t even the same day, making everyone everywhere address you both as twins.

He cleared his throat which made both you and Minho turn your attention to him & Kitty.

“Are you ready for that coffee?”

—

You had spent more and more time in Q’s dorm now that you knew Kitty was also there. It was refreshing having someone else deal with the guys, even if she did have some drama with Dae.

You weren’t the closest with Dae this year, having distanced yourself with all the drama he was swept up in. You pitied him a bit, being able to clearly tell his relationship with Yuri was a facade. Still, with Chuseok being in two days, you knew that it would be hard for him.

Walking into the living room of your brother’s dorm, you sighed and threw yourself ontop of Q. He groaned when you landed on him, your elbow hitting him in the ribs somehow.

You smiled at the noise he let out, seemingly satisfied.

“Have you seen Dae today?”

“No, he went home already. Something I guess came up? I’m not too sure, he seemed a bit stressed out about it.”

You hummed, a bit sad about it. Dae had left KISS early, and you weren’t able to talk to him.

The front door opened, and Minho walked in, letting out a sigh when he saw you there.

“Oh great, you’re here.”

“Aw Minho, did you miss me?”

“Do you think a dog misses it’s fleas?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he reciprocated it.

“Do you two ever get tired of arguing?” Q said, looking up from his phone.

You rolled off of him and went over to Minho, wrapping your arms around him.

Minho tried swatting your arms away, but you squeezed him tighter.

“Aww come on Q, you’re telling me that you don’t think we love each other?”

Minho’s mouth dropped wide open when you said that, never wanting to hear the word love come out of your mouth pertaining to him.

“I could never love you, you’re too annoying.” He grumbled wiggling himself free from your grasp.

You pouted and let out a huff,

“Minnie, you’re being too mean.”

The face that he had made left you satisfied and you went back to the couch with Q.

The silence that encased the three of you wasn’t awkward per say but you could’ve done without it.

Minho cleared his throat and both you and Q whipped your heads towards him.

Minho had always thought you guys were sometimes weirdly in sync like that, and it made him second guess if you guys actually were twins.

“So, are you guys going to Kitty’s chuseok dinner?”

You blinked at him, not even knowing that Kitty was hosting a dinner.

Q nudged your arm and you glanced at him with a small frown.

“Yeah, we’re going, are you?”

“No, I have a date with Lulu that day.”

You smiled at the thought of him going on a thought with Lulu, knowing that somehow he would probably mess it up.

“Lulu, huh? Sound’s interesting.”

“We’ve been flirting since her trainee days, it’s going to be amazing.”

“Well it’ll be fun to hear about!”

Q had said something to Minho about it, but you tuned out of the conversation, sending a few texts back and forth with Kitty.

She asked if you were busy, and if you could help her with the grocery shopping for the dinner (you assumed she assumed you were down to go to the dinner).

You told her you could meet her at the entrance of their dorm building and she said she would be over there in a few minutes.

You quickly got up and grabbed you bag, giving Q a quick hug.

“You’re finally leaving?”

“Don’t worry Minnie, I’ll be back soon!” You blew a kiss at him and laughed at his reaction, leaving both boys shocked.

—

Kitty’s chuseok was finally here, and she was running around the dining area, grabbing the last few things for the table.

You had shown up a little earlier than everyone, having promised Kitty you would help set up. You were finishing the table settings, turning around to grab the last of the silverware, when you accidentally ran into someone.

“Sorry! I didn’t see you-”

“Of course not. You tend to not look.”

You made eye contact with Minho, who seemed unamused. You had a slight frown on your face, ignoring his quip.

Sidestepping him you scurried along, finishing your task.

Minho was caught off guard, you never didn’t respond with your own quip, always being a thorn in his side that he seemed to not be able to get rid of.

The rest of the night you ignored his presence, choosing to sit next to Alex and leaving him to sit with Madison. No matter how annoying he thought you were, he did think you were lightyears better than Madison. He felt off somehow, seeing you act so different. Yes you were still laughing and making jokes with everyone else, but he could tell that your smile didn’t fully reach your eyes, and that you seemed to keep your laughter short.

Before he could ask you if anything specific was wrong, his phone buzzed with a text from Lulu. He had been so focused on you ( and also ignoring Madison), that he had forgotten about his date. You had excused yourself from the table before he did, stating that you just weren’t feeling well. Q had given you a worried glance but you shook your head at him and he seemed to get the hint that you wanted to be alone. You had assumed it was the twin telepathy that you both have.

His eyes had followed your retreating figure, and he muttered a goodbye to Kitty who was confused that he was leaving. He mentioned his date with Lulu, and walked towards the exit, hoping he would find you around there before his date.

You sat on the steps of the school, pulling your sweater’s sleeves over your hands, letting the tears flow from your eyes. You were frustrated for feeling so homesick and wanting to act normal like your brother. He seemed to not be as homesick, knowing that sometimes your relatives could be harsh. He also seemed to be doing well this year, having a good group of friends and a loving boyfriend. You knew that even though his friends were also your friends, besides Kitty you sometimes felt that they felt forced to be around you.

Minho had found you sitting on the steps, and he wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do, or say at this point. He had never expressed any interest in your emotions other than your annoyance, and he also was just horrible at comforting people. Ignoring the vibrating of his phone, he went and sat down next to you, waiting for you to realize he was there.

“Q, I love you but I wanna be alone right now.”

“Well, I’ll pass on the message to him.” you glanced at the owner of the voice you knew so well, not knowing what to say to him.

You sighed and turned your focus on the sky once more.

“Don’t you have a date to be getting ready for?” you had meant for it to come out snarky, but you both could tell it just came out more sad than anything else.

He nodded and hummed.

“Yeah. But you seemed to need someone to talk to. And lucky for you I’m not only incredibly attractive-”

“And humble apparently”

“But I’m also a great listener.”

You turned to meet his gaze, not seeing a hint of a joke in his eyes.

“I’m just homesick.”

He nodded, knowing how that felt. For him he felt homesick with his mother, spending time with her and getting to see her all the time. His father on the other hand– well he had assumed that a normal father-son relationship boiled down to sending presents when he seemed to remember he had a son.

“I know it’s dumb too, but I feel like I’m just annoying to everyone sometimes, and that everyone except for a few people only see me as Q’s sibling. I just feel out of place sometimes. It’s not always a feeling that’s there, but today it is.”

Minho didn’t realize that you had felt this way. As annoying as you could be, he found that you truly cared for your friendships, and always kept within boundaries. He knew that if he were to ask even your classmates you were well liked, keeping to yourself but willing to help those if needed.

“I know I’m probably the last person you wanna hear this from, but you’re not annoying.”

You gave him a skeptical look and he let out a soft laugh.

“Okay, sometimes you’re annoying. But you’re someone that people really enjoy to be around. I know whatever I say may seem hollow, but you really do mean a lot to people. I don’t think people just see you as Q’s sibling, I believe they see you for you. You’re kind, smart, and witty.”

You stared at him, a little shocked at how he saw you. All this time you thought he actually hated you, but perhaps you were wrong?

A small smile crept onto your lips, and he felt something in him swell at your smile.

“Thank you, Minho.” you whispered, fiddling with your sleeves.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but there seemed to be something between the two of you. Neither one of you said anything, the silence palpable . Both of you failed to realize that you were both leaning closer to each other’s faces, close enough to kiss until his phone started ringing.

The ringing snapped both of you out of whatever trace you were in, and he looked to see who was calling him.

You saw his phone screen light up with Lulu’s name and contact picture, and you immediately felt awkward. He had a date tonight, and whatever almost happened between the two of you was most definitely a bad idea.

Minho seemed torn as to what to do, until your voice reached his ears.

“Answer it.”

He hesitated for a moment longer before getting up from the stairs and answering the call.

Lulu was calling to let him know she was running a few minutes late, traffic being bad for no reason. She told him that she’d be there as fast as she could, and that she was happy to see him.

He nodded along to what she was saying, acutely aware that you were behind him, hearing him agree with what she said on the phone.

He quickly hung up and turned back around to apologize to you, noticing that you were gone.

You had left when he got up sprinting to your dorm, heart beating fast and head full of thoughts of what could’ve happened between the two of you if she hadn’t called.

[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 4 - Oldest Friend | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.8

The two of you decided to go back to familiar ways and sit outside in your bathing suits by the pool wrapped in each other’s company. There was no anxiety, no uncertainty—just the two of you, finally alone, finally able to be together without the weight of the outside world pressing down on you. Jude reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek.

"Today was perfect," he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion. You smiled up at Jude, feeling the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his words.

“Yeah?" you questioned him softly, leaning into him, your lips brushing against his in a tender kiss that quickly deepened, the promise of what was to come hanging in the air between you. As you curled up against him, feeling his arms tighten around you, you knew that this moment—this quiet, perfect moment—was one you were enjoying too much and it was terrifying. When Jude tucked inside to go grab you both something to drink he caught himself standing by the window, his eyes fixated on you lounging by the pool before he returned. Your silhouette was captivating against the sunlit backdrop of his Madrid home. He couldn't help but feel drawn to you in a way that was both confusing and exhilarating. There was something about you that was intoxicating, a mystery he was desperate to solve. Every word that came out of your mouth was like a puzzle piece, hinting at something deeper, something you never intended for anyone to see.

You grew up living a life many would envy but few truly understand. Your childhood was one of privilege and prestige, cocooned in a world of private schools, penthouse apartments, and summers split between the Hamptons and Côte d'Azur. Your parents were French expats who had found their fortune in the glitzy world of film. Your dad retired early, his wealth nearly obscene, opting to buy vineyards in Burgundy and live the life of a refined vintner. You were born there in France then moved to the United Stated but back to France shortly after. You lived in a sprawling apartment in the 7th arrondissement, filled with exquisite antiques and modern art. Your father’s success in film had not only bought him vineyards but also a lifestyle that many could only dream of. However, beneath the surface of this seemingly perfect family lay a complicated web of emotional neglect and unmet needs. Your parents, wrapped up in their own pursuits and societal status, often used money, lavish gifts, and trips to other homes around the world to compensate for their absence. They tried to keep a genuine connection but it was often though the phone. This emotionally cold upbringing left its mark on you. You had everything you could ever want materially. Although, you grew up without the warmth and emotional security you craved, something Jude clearly seemed to experience the exact opposite of. You learned early on that love and affection in your family were conditional, transactional, something that could be bought and sold just like the art pieces in your gallery. This realization made you cautious, a self-preserving instinct kicking in that taught you to protect your heart and to rely on yourself for your emotional needs. Despite the glamorous veneer of your life, you often felt a profound loneliness and used hook ups to fill that. Although you had Whitney of course. She was your closest confidant, the one person who understood the strange blend of opulence and emptiness that colored your childhood. You were bonded by your shared experience, but even with her, there were things you could never fully express—wounds that went deeper than words. After finishing your education at a prestigious private school in Paris, you returned to New York, eager to carve out a space of your own. You had always been drawn to art, finding in it an emotional resonance that you couldn't find anywhere else. You pursued your passion relentlessly, eventually opening your own gallery in downtown Manhattan. Your gallery quickly gained a reputation for its cutting-edge exhibitions and the way it seamlessly blended contemporary art with more classical influences. You were stunningly beautiful, with a look that turned heads wherever you went. You allure undeniable and enigmatic. Yet, behind the captivating exterior, you were a complex blend of vulnerability and strength, a woman who had learned to use your looks to your advantage but never let them define you. Men were drawn to you like moths to a flame, and you enjoyed their attention but never let it go beyond the surface. You used them for sex, a fleeting connection that never demanded more than you were willing to give. They were like your art—beautiful to behold, to experience, but not something you were willing to let into your inner world. Though you portrayed an image of effortless confidence and control, deep down, you longed for something more meaningful. You desired a connection that wasn’t superficial, a love that wasn’t just a transaction, but something real and raw, something that didn’t need to be bought or proven. Yet, your experiences had made you cautious. You built walls around your heart, protecting yourself from being hurt by the very thing you longed for the most. Your life was a series of contrasts—luxury and emptiness, beauty and solitude, strength and vulnerability.

Jude sighed wondering just all that. Who were you? You looked stunning, your bikini revealing just enough to be alluring without being obvious and as much he appreciated your outer shell he wanted to know what went on in that head of yours. The way the sun kissed your skin gave you an almost angelic glow, contrasting sharply with the cool, guarded demeanor you usually wore like armor. Jude knew there was more to you—something softer, sweeter, hidden beneath that hard exterior. He had seen glimpses of it in your quiet moments together, in the way your eyes softened when you weren’t paying attention or the way you laughed when you thought no one was listening. He was determined to see more. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever came next. The sunny late summer air was warm on his skin as he stepped outside, walking toward you with a casual confidence he didn’t quite feel. He dropped down beside you on the lounge chair, reaching over to playfully pinch your waist. You squealed in surprise, your body jolting slightly as you turned to look at him. Your reaction made him smile, but it was the way your lips curled into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen that made his heart skip a beat. There was something so genuine about it, a softness that you rarely showed.

"Hi." You simply greeted him with a giggle. You tilted your head, your hair falling effortlessly over your shoulders Jude’s breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he was speechless, lost in the depth of your eyes and the warmth of your smile. He couldn’t remember the last time a single word had such a profound effect on him.

“Hey,” he finally managed to say, his voice a little rougher than he intended.

“You look happy,” you noted, your tone light, but your eyes held a hint of curiosity, as if you were trying to read his mind.

“I am,” he replied, and it was the truth. He felt happier in this moment than he had in a long time. “Just enjoying the view.” He cooed. You rolled your eyes but smiled, a soft blush coloring your cheeks.

“Smooth, Judey. You’re very smooth.” You giggled. Jude chuckled. He waved you to scoot over on your chair. His arms around you fast as he slid next to your body before leaning back in the chair, his gaze never leaving your face.

“I mean it. I like having you here. I like… getting to know you.” He smiled, playing with a piece of your hair. There was a flicker of something in your eyes—hesitation, maybe even fear. But then it was gone, replaced by the familiar guardedness he was beginning to know well.

“You already know me, Jude,” you said lightly, though he could hear the edge in your voice.

“Not as much as I’d like to,” he admitted, his tone earnest. “I want to know everything about you, Y/N.” Jude, despite his love for a playboy lifestyle, was a significantly more open and emotional than you. He was close with his parents, his brother, his friends, he felt comfortable opening up. It was scary for him, sure, but he’d done it before. A significant more amount of times you had. Although he had never been this candid with a girl before and certainly not one he met only two weeks ago.

“Why?” You asked softly, almost to yourself. You glanced away, your gaze shifting to the shimmering water of the pool

“Because there’s something about you that I can’t get enough of,” he confessed. “You’re like… I don’t know. What’s a really beautiful painting?” He asked you and you couldn’t help but giggle at the overzealous nature of what he was trying to say. “I want to study you, to understand you. You’re beautiful, but there’s so much more to you than that.” He confessed. Your lips parted in surprise, your breath hitching. For a moment, you seemed at a loss for words, your guarded expression softening into something more vulnerable.

“Wow. I erm…I don’t know if I’m ready for someone to know all of me though. Maybe I’m just one of those paintings that’s meant to be behind the glass.” You whispered, your voice barely audible over the soft breeze. Jude’s heart ached at the admission, at the raw honesty in your voice. He wanted to pull you into his arms, to hold you and tell you that it was okay, that he wasn’t going anywhere. Tell you that he didn’t mind the glass protection. In fact, he understood it.

“That’s okay, angel,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere though, Y/N. If the glass ever comes down, I’m here. But I understand.” He cooed. You looked at him for a long moment, your eyes searching his for something he hoped you found. Finally, you nodded, your lips curling into a small, grateful but sad smile.

“Thank you,” you whispered. Jude smiled back, his heart swelling with something he wasn’t quite ready to name. But as he looked at you, he knew one thing for sure: he wanted to be the one to remove that glass, to see the real you. And he was willing to do whatever it took to make that happen.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains of Jude's bedroom, casting a warm, golden light over the room. The soft, lazy glow bathed the bed where you and Jude laid entwined beneath the sheets, the world outside forgotten as they enjoyed the rare luxury of a day without responsibilities. Jude stretched slightly, wincing as the soreness from yesterday’s training reminded him of the bruises and aches that came with football fast approaching again. He let out a low groan, rubbing a hand over his shoulder as he settled back into the pillows. You, who had been resting your head on his chest, looked up at him with a playful smirk, your eyes bright and mischievous.

“Sore, are we?” You teased, your fingers tracing light circles over his chest, the touch soothing yet electrifying.

“You could say that,” Jude replied with a grin, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed down at you. Despite the discomfort, he felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. The softness of the morning, the warmth of your body against his—it all made the soreness a minor inconvenience. “But I’ve had worse.” He smirked lazily.

“Well, let’s see if I can make it better,” You murmured, your voice low and sultry. You shifted slightly, trailing your hand down his torso, your fingers dancing over his skin in a way that sent a shiver through him. The way you looked at him, with that blend of affection and desire, made his heart race in a way that no game ever could. Jude let out a soft chuckle, his hand sliding into your hair as he pulled her closer.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. You laughed, the sound light and teasing.

“Maybe,” you said, pressing a kiss to his collarbone, your lips lingering as you spoke. “But I’m good at it.” You giggled.

“Too good,” Jude agreed, a smirk playing on his lips. He shifted slightly, despite the soreness, so that he could wrap his arms more securely around you, pulling you fully on top of him. “You might be the reason I never leave this bed today.” He cooed. Your eyes sparkled with amusement as you looked down at him, your hair falling in a cascade around them, creating a private little world where only the two of them existed.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” you whispered, your voice soft yet heavy with meaning. Jude’s heart swelled at your words, a wave of emotion washing over him that he hadn’t expected. As he looked up at you, he realized just how happy he was to have you here, in his home, in his bed. The past week with you had been more than just fun—they had been… right. The kind of right that made him question everything he thought he knew about himself and what he wanted. “I need to go soon.” You dramatically pouted at him. That was a fairly unfortunate truth. You were scheduled to leave Spain tonight.

“Nah, you need to take this off.” Jude cheekily cooed, dropping his tone. His hands began to roam all over you pulling at your clothes.

“Seriously, I have to shower and pack.” You frowned for real this time. You genuinely were sad but were trying hard not to deep it too much.

“Stay with me a little longer,” he found himself saying, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. The words slipped out before he had time to second-guess them, but he knew they were true. “I like having you here, Y/N. A lot more than I expected.” You blinked, the teasing smile fading from your lips as you met his gaze. There was a flicker of surprise in your eyes, followed by something softer, more tender. You searched his face, as if trying to figure out if he really meant what he was saying.

“You mean that?” You asked quietly, your fingers stilling against his chest.

“Yeah, I do. I didn’t expect to feel like this, but… I don’t want you to go just yet. I want… more. I want more of you.” Jude nodded, his expression serious now. Your heart fluttered in your chest, a mix of excitement and fear coursing through you. You had been so careful not to let yourself get too attached, to keep your distance emotionally. But the way Jude was looking at you now, with that mix of hope and sincerity, made it hard to hold back.

“I’ve been thinking about it… and I’m not sure I’m ready to leave either.” You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I think I need more.” You tentatively smiled. Jude’s lips curved into a slow smile, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulled you down for a kiss. It was soft and unhurried, a promise of the lazy day you had ahead of yourselves, a day where you could just be together without worrying about what came next. When you finally pulled apart, you rested your forehead against his, your heart pounding in your chest.

“So, what’s the plan then?” You asked, a hint of playfulness returning to you voice. “Stay in bed all day?”

“That sounds like a good start,” he murmured with a chuckle, the sound warm and content as his hands slid up your back, his touch sending sparks of heat through you. “And maybe, if I’m feeling up to it, we can move to the couch later.”

“I think I can handle that.” You laughed, the sound light and full of joy. Jude smiled, his heart swelling with a happiness he hadn’t expected to find. As you settled back into the pillows, you snuggled into his side, he realized that for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t worried about what came next. He was just happy to be here, with you, in this moment. Jude’s hand trailed down your back, sending shivers down your spine.

"Right now let's stay here though, yeah?" He nuzzled into your neck, his warm breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Jude gently pushed you from your side onto your back, his eyes burning with desire as he peeled off your clothes, relishing in the gradual sight of your naked body. Your heart began to race when he spread your legs, revealing your glistening pussy to him. Honestly, you were already aroused from the moment you woke up with that boy next to you. Jude leaned down, his tongue tracing a path from your knee up your inner thigh, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body. As he reached your core, he blew gently, the cool air contrasting with the heat between your legs. You gasped, arching your back, as if you were offering yourself to him. When his tongue finally made contact, he teasingly flicked your clit gently. You let out sinful moans, the sound filling the bedroom. Jude was a master of his craft, and he took his time, teasing you with soft licks and gentle sucks and just when you're close to the edge, he’d stoped, leaving you teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

"Please, Jude," you begged, your voice hoarse with need. "Please let me cum already." You asked desperately after his third round edging you. Jude laughed, the sound sending vibrations through your whole body.

"Not yet, angel, I have plans for you." He smirked and with that, he reached for his phone on the bedside table, his fingers deftly navigating the screen.

"What are you doing?" you asked almost in a panic, your curiosity piqued but your desperation at a boiling point, your body craved release.

"Changing your flight," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I told you I don’t want you to go just yet unless you changed your mind. I can just get up.” He teasingly offered with a smug smile. You simultaneously wanted to scream with impatience but also pout at how much you liked that he was changing your flight because he wanted you to stay. You felt a true rush of excitement and relief that he wanted more of you, more mornings like this.

"Oh," you breathed deeply trying to compose yourself but your voice was heavy with desire. “Okay, thank you.” You mumbled shutting your eyes and dropping your head back into the pillow accepting that you’d have to wait a moment.

"You’re welcome, baby" Jude cooed as his tongue suddenly resumed its dance, lapping at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasped at the suddenness. He slid a finger inside you, curling it to hit that sweet spot you felt like he had discovered just for him. You cried out, your body trembling as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Just as you were about to climax, he slowed down again, his finger stroking a more leisurely pace.

"Please, baby!" you pleaded, your words almost becoming incoherent as pleasure consumed you.

"Shh," Jude soothed you, his breath hot against your throbbing pussy. "I'll let you cum, but you promise to stay a little longer?" He smiled and you nodded frantically, a little confused because you thought you told him that already but anything to feel the release he'd been teasing you with. He chuckled, taking pity on you. He devoured your pussy with renewed fervor. His tongue worked in rhythm with his fingers, driving you wild. You clutched the sheets, your body tensing as your orgasm built to an explosive peak. "That's it, baby, cum for me," Jude encouraged you, his voice thick with desire. You whined his name as your body shuddered, waves of pleasure rippling through you. Jude didn’t stop though, he milked your orgasm, drawing it out until you were a trembling, satisfied mess. As you came down from your high, Jude kissed his way up your body, his lips claiming yours in a passionate embrace. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

"That was… that was so fucking good," you whispered, running your hand over his slightly messy hair. “Why would I ever leave?” You cheekily asked him, moving to cup his cheek. In swift succession Jude positioned himself above you, his hard length straining against his boxers. His eyes went dark with want. His cock thick and long. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you. You reach for his boxers, eager to free him, but he caught your hand.

"Not yet," he breathed, his voice a bit strained. "I want to be inside that pretty mouth first." He gently pushed your head towards his hard on, and you obliged, taking him in, swirling your tongue around the head, tasting his salty pre-cum. Jude moaned, his hands gripping you as you took him deeper, your hands caressing his firm ass. "Fuck, YN," he grunts, his hips thrusting gently, guiding you. You sucked and licked, taking him to the back of your throat, your hand stroking the base of his shaft. Jude's control seems to be slipping rapidly, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He pulled out, his cock glistening with your saliva. “I need to be inside you.” He growled, positioning himself between your thighs, With one smooth thrust, he filled you, his length stretching you deliciously. “You're not leaving. Too good of a girl f’me.” He cooed as you gasped, your eyes widening at the intensity of the sensation. Jude began to move, his hips snapping forward, pounding into you with a primal need. The bed creaking beneath the force of his thrusts, and you matching his rhythm, meeting him thrust for thrust.

"God, you’re so fucking hot." You whined. He grunted, his eyes locked on yours, your praise only fueling him. Your nails dug into his back muscles as you clung to him. “Jude, fuck! You’re so fucking deep.” You moaned when he repositioned you, picking up one of your legs drilling into you somehow impossibly deeper. Jude reached between you, his skilled fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in perfect sync with his powerful strokes.

“'Gonna make you cum again, yeah?" he panted, his voice hoarse. "Cum all over my cock, angel. Make a mess f’me." He commanded you to and as if possible, you listened just letting go of any control you had. You were a moaning mess as your high crashed over you. Your whines now matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Your lips stuck parted as he fucked you into another orgasm. The knot in your stomach coming completely undone. Your pussy gushing around his thick girth in uncontrollable squirts. The release causing your body to shudder. “God, you’re so fucking hot.” Jude groaned watching you. He continued hitting a spot deep within you, your pussy pulsating, milking his length. Your pussy gripped so tight and intensely around his cock as you came Jude couldn’t hold back his own release. He pumped you full of his warm cum, spurting into you while your pussy throbbed. You stayed in that position. Refusing to pull his cock out, preventing any of his cum from spilling out as he rolled his hips a few more times into you. As your orgasms slowly subsided, Jude collapsed onto the bed beside you, pulling you close, his breath ragged. "I think I can get used to mornings like this," he said, planting a tender kiss on your forehead. You smile, snuggling into his embrace, pretty okay if all your mornings were just like this one.

Returning to New York felt surreal after your extended holiday in Madrid with Jude was extended a little further. The city was buzzing with life as usual, but there was a new layer of nostalgia coating everything you saw. On your early morning run through Central Park, you couldn’t help but smile when you spotted a jogger wearing a Bellingham #5 Real Madrid jersey. It was like he was there reminding you just how much you missed him, even though he was thousands of miles away the ache was there. Without thinking, you quickly texted him, the familiarity of even seeing his name on your phone brought a warm feeling to your chest.

‘Just saw your jersey in Central Park xx’

As you continued your run, you decided to call Whitney to catch up. It felt good to hear her voice, her playful energy always bringing you a sense of home no matter where you were or where she was. You were deep in conversation, laughing about some silly story she was telling, when your phone buzzed with an incoming call. You glanced at the screen and saw Jude’s name flashing.

“Whit, sorry someone else is calling me,” you interrupted her mid-sentence, your voice slightly breathless from the run and the excitement of hearing from him. You couldn’t hold back the grin pulling your lips.

“Oh, Jude, huh?” Whitney teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Of course, answer, answer. Tell him I say hi, and that he should be thankful I’m sharing your attention.” She giggled. You rolled your eyes, smiling as you switched over to his call.

“Hi,” you meekly greeted him, trying to sound casual even though your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. You slowed your pace, your feet hitting the pavement in a steady rhythm, your mind racing with thoughts of him.

“You were thinking about me?” Jude asked cheekily, his tone playful, but there was something more beneath it, something tender. “Was just thinking of that pretty face too, you know. I was going to call you anyway, see if you were awake.” He told you and you were fairly sure your heart grew three sizes. You stopped your run and began to walk needing to focus solely on him.

“You know I always get up early,” you reminded him with a soft laugh. It was a habit of yours he’d come to know well. Even if he wasn’t exactly a morning person, Jude missed feeling you kiss him in the morning before slipping out of his bed.

“Yeah, I know, angel. You used to wake me up with you, remember? And as annoying as it was,” he teased lightly, but there was a longing in his voice that he couldn’t quite hide. “I miss it… I miss you.” Jude sighed on the other end of the line, a sound that made your chest tighten. “Needed an excuse to call though, didn’t I?” Jude smiled hearing a slight giggle and hum from your end. His words hung in the air between you, the distance suddenly feeling more tangible. It was strange to be back in New York, in your own space, yet feeling like a part of you was still back in Madrid with him.

“I miss you too,” you admitted quietly, the truth of it all sinking in. Being back in the city was supposed to feel like coming home, but instead, it felt like you’d left a piece of yourself behind. Jude sat at the kitchen table in his house back in Madrid, staring blankly at the steaming cup of tea in front of him. The trip to Greece, followed by your stay in Spain, had left him with a whirlwind of emotions he hadn’t quite sorted out. He absentmindedly swirled the spoon in his tea, the clinking sound filling the silence of the room.

“Morning, hun,” Denise greeted him as she entered the kitchen with a warm smile, her eyes immediately landing on Jude. She reached out to squeeze his arm affectionately

“Morning, Mum,” Jude replied, still somewhat lost in his thoughts. He took a sip of his tea, hoping it would wake him up from the fog that had settled in his mind. Denise sat down across from him, a knowing look on her face. She had noticed how quiet Jude had been since you left for New York. It wasn’t like him to be this distracted, and she had a feeling she knew why.

“So, you had a good few weeks? Y/N is a lovely girl. I liked having her here. Hope you had fun.” she spoke casually, though there was a hint of curiosity in her voice.

“Yeah, it was all good. We had fun,” he said nonchalantly with a shrug trying to play it cool but he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips when he thought about your time together.

“So only good?” she pressed, her tone light but probing. “You’ve been awfully quiet since she left.”Denise raised an eyebrow at his lackluster response Jude shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not entirely sure how to articulate what he was feeling.

“Yeah, it’s just… you know, holiday thing,” he said vaguely, trying to brush it off. “Nothing serious.” Denise leaned back in her chair, studying him for a moment. She could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was trying to downplay what clearly meant a lot more to him.

“Jude,” she began gently, “is YN your girlfriend?” Denise asked cautiously but outright. Jude’s reaction was immediate.

“No!” he blurted out, perhaps a bit too quickly. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “No, she’s not my girlfriend. We’re just… having fun, you know?” He winced at what he had said. Denise nodded slowly, not entirely convinced by his casual dismissal.

“Just having fun, huh?” she repeated, her tone skeptical. “Because from what I’ve seen, it seems like there’s more to it than just a bit of fun.” She sympathetically smiled at her son. She watched you two for a week and a half, hell the fact that Jude brought you home was enough for her to know there was more.

“Mum, it’s not like that,” he insisted, though even he wasn’t sure what “like that” meant. “It’s just… it’s complicated.” Jude shifted again, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation

“Complicated or not, you need to figure out what she means to you, Jude,” she said softly. Denise gave him another sympathetic smile, but there was a hint of frustration in her eyes. “You can’t keep her hanging on a thread because you’re afraid of what it might mean if you care about her.” She cooed. Jude felt a twinge of guilt at his mother’s words. He knew she was right, but the thought of defining what he and you were scared him.

“I don’t know, Mum,” he admitted, running a hand over his hair. “I don’t want to mess things up by making it more than it is. What if it’s just…” Jude sighed pausing not totally sure how to articulate what he wanted to say but Denise spoke first, filling the air.

“So, it's just sex, then?" she asked, her tone matter-of-fact. Denise, sensing his discomfort, filled in the silence. Jude immediately grimaced, recoiling at her bluntness.

"Mum, eugh," he muttered, his face scrunching up in embarrassment. It wasn't news to Denise that he was having sex—it was obvious, and they had an open relationship where they could talk about almost anything, sex included and they had but hearing her say it, especially about you, made him feel like a kid being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

"Jude, it's not a big deal. You're an adult, and I'm not naive. But it seems to me that it's more than just physical with her." Denise chuckled softly at his reaction, her smile warm but knowing. Jude shifted awkwardly. Jude had shared tidbits of his playboy lifestyle with her but only in doses never giving the full picture so it didn’t sound too promiscuous but for some reason Jude felt like it was more vulnerable to be seen falling for someone than to just be fucking them. Denise’s expression softened, but there was a firmness in her voice. “Hun, I know you’re scared of getting hurt or hurting her, but you can’t reduce what you two have to just… some holiday sex,” she said, the words almost sounding harsh as she repeated them. “You’re not being fair to her or yourself by dismissing it like that. You brought her home.” Even though Jude was thinking just that he didn’t like that she said it.

“I’m not dismissing it, I’m just… being realistic,” he argued, though his voice lacked conviction. Jude’s brows furrowed, defensive. He didn't want to admit to himself how deep his feelings for you really ran, let alone say it out loud to his mother. But how could he explain that to her without sounding like he was trying to convince himself?

“Realistic or not, it’s clear to anyone with eyes that you care about her,” she said gently. “And from what I can tell, she cares about you too. Don’t let fear of a label keep you from something that could be really special.” Denise sighed, leaning forward to rest her hand on his Jude stared down at his tea, Denise’s words sinking in. He couldn’t deny the way his heart ached when you weren't around, the way he missed your laughter, your smile, the way you made everything feel lighter and brighter. But at the same time, the idea of taking things further terrified him. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he ruined it? “Just be honest with yourself and with her,” she advised. Denise squeezed his hand, pulling him out of his thoughts. “That’s all you can do. Don’t let fear keep you from something you want.” Jude nodded slowly, the weight of his mother’s words settling on him. He knew she was right. He had to figure out what he wanted, and more importantly, he had to be brave enough to go after it, whatever “it” was.

“I’ll think about it,” he said finally, giving Denise a small smile. “Thanks, Mum.” Jude sheepishly got out feeling like a school boy all of a sudden who needed his mums help.

“Anytime, love,” she said. “Just remember, you deserve to be happy. And so does she.” Denise smiled back, her eyes soft with understanding

Your time apart from Jude was filled with a lot of nudes, a lot of dirty FaceTimes, and very little discussion about what the hell was going on between you too. Jude was sprawled out on his couch, his legs stretched across the cushions as he lazily scrolled through his phone. The house was quiet, the only sound coming from the occasional chirp of birds outside the window. Normally, he’d relish the peace after a grueling week of football, but today, something was off. He opened Instagram, mindlessly tapping through stories until he saw your name pop up. His heart gave a small, involuntary jump at the sight of your profile picture. He hadn’t physically seen you in a couple of days since you’d gone back home, and though he’d tried to shake it off, the distance between you was starting to weigh on him more than he’d expected. The story opened, and there you were, looking radiant as ever, your face slightly flushed from what he guessed was a drink or two. You were out at a bar, surrounded by friends, all laughter and carefree energy. The dim lights of the bar cast a warm glow over you, and the background music was just loud enough to drown out any coherent conversation. Jude watched as you tilted her head back, laughing at something off-camera, your eyes sparkling with a happiness that made his chest tighten. He should’ve been happy to see you enjoying yourself, to see you surrounded by friends and having a good time. But instead, a sharp, unexpected pang of jealousy twisted in his gut. It wasn’t anger—he knew you had every right to go out, to live your life—but something about seeing you there, in that atmosphere, without him, made him feel… possessive. Maybe this was ‘it.’ Maybe this is what his mum was talking about.

Because you didn’t really know where you stood with Jude, you found yourself in a confusing limbo when you returned to New York. The uncertainty gnawed at you—you weren’t sure if you were exclusive, or if you were still technically single. Deep down, you had no interest in other men, but the fear that Jude might move on the moment you left was hard to shake. To avoid overthinking, you decided to go out with some friends. You ended up tucked in a cozy corner of a bar, surrounded by some of your friends who just so happened to be gay men. You told yourself it was just by coincidence, but in reality, you knew it was because they were the only men you felt safe around—no expectations, no pressure, just a night out without the looming threat of complicated feelings. Jude hated how much seeing you with men bothered him. The men you were with couldn’t be less interested in pursuing you sexually but he didn’t know that. The logical part of his brain knew he was being ridiculous, that you were just out having fun. But another part of him, the part that was getting more and more difficult to ignore, wanted nothing more than to be there with you, to pull you close and remind you that you were his. Except, you were not.m and that almost bothered him more. The thought of some random guy chatting you up, making you laugh the way he did, sent a wave of frustration through him that he struggled to tamp down. Jude let out a low groan, running a hand over his hair as he tossed his phone onto the couch beside him. What the hell was happening to him? He’d never felt like this before—this desperate, almost embarrassing need to be close to someone. It was unsettling, and more than that, it was making him realize just how deep he was in. You had a hold on him that he hadn’t anticipated, and it was messing with his head in ways he hadn’t expected. He stared at the ceiling, trying to rationalize his feelings, but all he could think about was how much he wanted you back here with him. He’d never been the jealous type, never had to be. But with you, it was different. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone else catching your attention, even for a second. He needed you, and the thought of you being so far away, living your life without him, was driving him crazy. Before he knew it, his phone was back in his hand, his fingers moving quickly as he opened the flight booking app. It was impulsive, maybe even a little reckless, but he didn’t care. He needed you here, in Spain, with him. He found a flight that left the next day, booked it, and without thinking twice, sent the confirmation details to you with a simple message.

‘Come back. I miss you.’

As soon as he hit send, he felt a mix of relief and anxiety. He didn’t know how you’d react—maybe you’d think he was being too much, maybe you’d laugh it off. But deep down, he hoped you felt the same way he did, that you were missing him just as much, that you wanted to be with him just as badly. The minutes ticked by slowly as he waited for your response, his mind racing with all the possible outcomes hoping you’d even be awake. Finally, his phone buzzed with your reply, and his heart leapt into his throat as he opened it.

‘ I miss you too. I’ll pack my bags xx’

A grin spread across Jude’s face, and the tension that had been knotting in his chest unraveled in an instant. He could already picture it—you walking through his front door, that smile on your face, the way you’d fit perfectly back in his arms. Yeah, maybe he was being a little overprotective, a little too eager to have you close. But he didn’t care. You were worth it. And he wasn’t going to let anything come between whatever was happening between you two, not even a little distance.

As you stepped off the plane in Mallorca, a wave of anticipation washed over you. You hadn’t seen Jude since your whirlwind holiday extension in Madrid and the thought of being with him again filled you with a mix of excitement and anxiety. His rather rash invitation purred on by jealousy for you to return to Spain consisted of you flying to Mallorca to go see his match there ahead of returning to Madrid with him. You were nervous but there was another reason for your unease—tonight upon your arrival you were meant to have dinner with his best friend, Toby. Your last interaction with him during the Greece trip had been brief, almost distant. He was polite, yes, but there was something in his demeanor that made you feel like he was holding back. It left you wondering whether he didn't like you, or if there was something else at play. The drive to your hotel from the airport was beautiful, the Mediterranean landscape stretching out under the setting sun, but you were too preoccupied to fully appreciate it. When you arrived at the hotel, Jude sent you a text because unfortunately you’d have to wait to see him until after his match tomorrow.

‘Toby's meeting you at the restaurant at 8. See you tomorrow, can't wait to kiss you.’

Jude's message was sweet, a reminder that he was thinking of you even amidst his hectic schedule. You appreciated it but the butterflies in your stomach refused to settle. Eight PM sharp, you walked into the restaurant wearing a silple YSL beige top, a pair of low rise red linen shorts, chunky black Gucci heels and a coordinated bag. Your eyes scanned the room until you found Toby seated at a corner table. He greeted you with a small smile and stood up, pulling out your chair for you. His manners were thoughtful. You sat down, giving him a polite smile in return, but inside, you felt a twinge of discomfort. The menu in front of you offered plenty of distractions, but you found it hard to focus on the words. Your mind was racing, filled with thoughts of how this evening would unfold. Toby ordered a bottle of wine, a Spanish red that the waiter described as ‘bold with a touch of spice.’ Normally you’d want to know more than that vagueness. The first few sips were a bit awkward, both of you sticking to safe topics like the weather and how lovely Mallorca was this time of year. Toby was polite, but his answers were short, almost clipped. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was an invisible wall between you two. It made you hesitant to open up, to be your usual self. But as the wine continued to flow, you started to notice a shift. The initial tension began to ease, and Toby started sharing funny anecdotes about his adventures with Jude. His eyes lit up as he recounted a particularly wild night out they had in Madrid, his laughter infectious. You found yourself genuinely laughing along. With each passing moment, you began to feel more at ease. The wine helped, but it was more than that. It was the realization that Toby wasn’t as standoffish as you’d initially thought. He was protective, sure, but as he let his guard down, you started to see the warmth beneath his exterior. He was someone who valued loyalty and friendship deeply, and it became clear that his initial distance had more to do with his protective instincts over Jude than any personal dislike of you.

"I have to admit," you began, swirling your wine glass, "I wasn’t sure how you felt about me when we first met. I got the impression you weren’t exactly my biggest fan." You took a chance, deciding to ask him about it directly. Toby looked at you, surprised for a moment, before his expression softened.

"It’s not that, really," he said, pausing to find the right words. "It’s just…Jude’s been through a lot, you know? And as his mate, I just want to make sure he’s with someone who’s good for him. Someone who’s in it for the right reasons." He explained. You nodded, understanding where he was coming from.

"I get that. And I appreciate it, actually. He means a lot to me too, more than I’ve probably let on." There was a moment of silence as Toby took this in. Then he smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached his eyes. Dinner with Toby had started off better than expected. You were seated at a chic outdoor restaurant in Palma, the kind of place with white tablecloths, candlelight, and a view of the harbor that made everything feel a little more relaxed. The warm breeze carried the scent of saltwater and the distant hum of the city. Toby had been charming initially, offering compliments about how much Jude had mentioned you, and you began to think this evening might go smoothly. The conversation carried on with light topics—football, your recent travels, and even a bit of banter about the match Jude was set to play the next day. Toby seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, and the wine was flowing easily between you both. He was quick-witted, effortlessly funny, and you found yourself laughing more than you had expected. You began to let your guard down, thinking that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of a friendship. But then, the mood shifted.

“So, do you want to be a WAG because of Whitney?” The question was like a punch to the gut. Toby asked in a casual tone that didn’t match the weight of his words. Your stomach twisted as the phrase hung in the air between you, the atmosphere suddenly thick with tension. You hadn’t seen it coming, and your initial reaction was to gape at him, utterly thrown off. What had started as a pleasant evening suddenly felt like a test you hadn’t prepared for. You tried to answer quickly, stumbling over your words as you asserted,

“I mean I’m not Jude’s girlfriend and definitely not just someone trying to latch onto his lifestyle.” But as soon as the words left your mouth, you realized they sounded defensive, almost dismissive of Jude, as if you were trying to distance yourself from the very relationship you were defending. Toby’s brow furrowed slightly, his skepticism evident as he sipped his wine, studying you. Realizing you had inadvertently downplayed your feelings for Jude, you attempted to recover, but it only made things worse. You began to explain how much Jude meant to you, but the more you talked, the more it sounded like you were trying too hard, like you were selling something you weren’t even sure Toby wanted to buy. Each word seemed to dig you deeper into a hole, making you sound less like a genuine partner and more like someone trying to prove their worth. The conversation spiraled further out of control when you tried to pivot to something safer—your work. You thought talking about your career would help you regain some footing, but Toby was ready for you. With a hint of challenge in his voice, he started to compare his own journey, how he had built his business from scratch. His words carried a subtle jab, implying that whatever success you had achieved was simply handed to you. The insinuation stung, especially because you’d worked hard to establish yourself, but in that moment, Toby’s words made you feel small. You tried to counter, to explain how much effort you had put into your own career, but it felt futile. Toby was unrelenting, and every attempt you made to steer the conversation away from this uncomfortable territory was met with a calm but cutting remark. By the time the main course arrived, you were exhausted from trying to keep up, feeling more like you were under interrogation than enjoying dinner with someone who might become a friend. Despite the tension, you forced a smile onto your face, hoping to mask the unease that had settled in your chest. You could barely taste your food, too preoccupied with the feeling that you had failed some unspoken test. As Toby continued to chat, seemingly unfazed by the awkwardness he had caused, you nodded along, pretending to enjoy the evening. But inside, you were dreading the rest of the night. You weren’t sure how you were going to sit through 90 minutes at the match tomorrow, knowing that Toby might continue to dissect everything you said, looking for cracks in your armor. You only hoped that Jude wouldn’t pick up on your discomfort, though you knew it would be hard to hide how much this dinner had rattled you. At this point it was hard to even look forward to seeing Jude after his match. You could already picture the way his face would light up when he saw you, the way his arms would wrap around you, pulling you close. The thought made you smile but your earlier worries haunting every positive thought. The memory of the dinner still gnawed at you, the words he said lingering in your mind. It’s not that you didn’t understand why Toby would be protective of Jude; after all, they’ve known each other forever. But the insinuation, the way he asked if you were trying to be a WAG, felt like a punch to the gut. You didn’t want to just be seen as someone tagging along for the ride; you’re so much more than that.

The ride to the stadium was filled with light conversation. Toby talked about the match, mentioning that it should be a good one. You nodded, trying to focus on what he’s saying, but your mind kept drifting, wondering if Jude felt the same way Toby did. When you arrived at Son Moix, the energy was electric. Fans buzzing with excitement, and you could feel the anticipation in the air. You’d never been to a Madrid match before and the game itself is exhilarating. You loved watching Jude play; there was something mesmerizing about the way he moved on the field, so confident and in control. The crowd roared with each near miss. When Jude scored, your heart swelled a little with pride, and you couldn’t help but beam as you caught his eye from the stands. He winked in your direction, a small, private acknowledgement that made your cheeks flush.

After the match, you met Jude down inside the stadium hesitantly with Toby. He was waiting for you looking effortlessly handsome back in his tailored suit. His eyes lit up when he saw you though, and despite everything, your heart skipped a beat. Whilst Toby pressed to go out, Jude negated the idea claiming he was tired post match but settled for only dinner. Jude’s hand slipped into yours, a subtle but meaningful gesture that didn’t go unnoticed to you nor Toby. He was proud to have you by his side, and despite your earlier worries, it made you feel more secure.The drive to the restaurant was quiet for you, filled with conversation for Jude and Toby, the city lights blurring into a soft glow outside the car window. Jude’s hand rested on your thigh, his thumb drawing gentle circles that sent a shiver down your spine. When you finally reached the location, Jude held you close, his presence comforting and steady. It was a Mediterranean restaurant that was chic inside with low lighting and soft music playing in the background. It felt like the perfect setting to unwind after the adrenaline-filled game but also one you wanted to be alone with Jude in. Jude had made it very clear he wanted to go to this specific restaurant and you weren't sure why until you were seated.

“Good list, no?” He smirked whispering into your ear as his big hand squeezed your thigh. Your whole chest warmed as you inspected the menu. Your cheeks raised and there it was, your family's winery, a couple of bottles littered throughout the wine list. You blushed leaning into Jude.

“Wait, did you know?” You giggled just to him. He hummed kissing behind your ear. “Thank you, this was sweet.” You cooed with a pout. As you sat next to Jude, you couldn’t help but admire how at ease he seemed. He was still riding the high from the match, and it was fairly infectious. You tried to push away the nagging thoughts about Toby, focusing instead on the familiar wine and Jude’s easygoing banter. The conversation shifted to light topics, you were laughing, the earlier awkwardness dissipating. Jude’s mood was contagious, and you find yourself relaxing in his presence, grateful that you could with him. Despite the feeling of relaxation and flowing conversation, you were astutely aware you knew you needed to talk to him about your conversation with Toby. Even so, as the night went on, you couldn’t help but feel a deepening connection with Jude. There was something about the way he listened, the way he cared, that makes you feel truly seen and valued. And as you left the restaurant, his arm wrapped around your shoulder subconsciously, you knew that despite the challenges, it felt good to be with him.

Finally back at Jude’s the following evening, you and Jude sat outside. The soft glow of Madrid seeped into your evening enveloping you both, adding a warm intimacy to the night. The sushi you had ordered sat beautifully arranged on the table, a mix of vibrant colors and delicate textures. You reached for a piece, savoring the familiar taste of fresh fish and rice, all while enjoying the rare moment of quiet. Jude, on the other hand, seemed a bit out of his element.

"You know, I don’t have sushi that often," he admitted, almost sheepishly. He picked up a piece with his chopsticks clumsily, giving you a playful smile. You couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him.

"Really, Mr. World Traveler? All those Michelin-starred restaurants and yet sushi isn’t on your menu?" You grinned, leaning in a little closer. "I’m amazed. How is it that you, of all people, haven’t embraced the wonders of sushi?" You giggled, honestly it was just sweet he didn’t make a fuss before, letting you order what you wanted.

"Maybe I’m just not as cultured as you think I am. You still have to culture me, don’t forget." Jude chuckled, shaking his head before reminding you of a promise you’d made in Greece. You laughed along with him, but as the conversation flowed, your mind began to drift back to the dinner with Toby. The laughter faded as you remembered the awkwardness that had settled over that meal, the discomfort of feeling like you were being judged. You took a sip of your wine, trying to push the memory aside, but it lingered, nagging at you. At the match, you had managed to keep a smile on your face, cheering for Jude, hiding the unease that still bubbled beneath the surface. You wanted to support him, to show that everything was fine, but deep down, you knew now was probably the time that you needed to address what was bothering you. As you sat there with Jude, the intimacy of the moment gave you the courage you needed. You took a deep breath, setting down your chopsticks as you looked across the table at him.

"Jude," you began, your voice softer than usual, "I need to talk to you about something." He immediately picked up on your tone, his playful expression fading into one of concern.

"What is it?" he asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes focused on you.

"When I had dinner with Toby, he asked me something... something that really kind of bothered me." You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. But you knew you had to say it.

"What did he say?" Jude’s brows furrowed in confusion.

"He asked if I was trying to be a ‘WAG,’ you know, like Whitney." You took another deep breath, feeling the tension in your chest tighten. Jude’s face went blank for a moment, processing your words. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to make sense of it. You expected anger, maybe even indignation on your behalf. But instead, his response caught you off guard.

"Toby’s just looking out for me," Jude said, his voice calm, almost understanding. "He’s my oldest friend. He knows how things can be in this world." His words hung in the air, heavy with implications. You stared at him, stunned, the weight of his response sinking in. He wasn’t angry at Toby. In fact, he seemed to understand why Toby had asked such a question. It felt like a betrayal, even though you knew it wasn’t meant to be.

"Looking out for you?" you repeated, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice. "Jude, he basically accused me of being with you for the wrong reasons. Do you really think that’s fair?" You asked him.

"It’s not about being fair," he said finally, his gaze returning to yours. Jude sighed, running a hand over his head as he looked away for a moment, clearly torn. "Toby’s just protective. He’s seen people try to take advantage, and he doesn’t want that to happen to me." His words were meant to reassure you, but they only made you feel worse. It was as if your character was being questioned, as if Toby—and by extension, Jude—didn’t fully trust your intentions. You felt a lump forming in your throat, the hurt beginning to overwhelm you.

"I’m not some gold-digger. Frankly Jude, I really don’t need your money nor your status, you know." You said quietly, your voice shaking slightly but with some fire. "I care about you, Jude. I thought you knew that.. I thought it was..." You felt your heart break in an instant. You were going to say you thought it was mutual but the sentiment just wouldn’t come out. Instead Jude began to speak.

"I know that. I know you do," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I know you’re not like that. But Toby... he doesn’t know you like I do. He’s just being cautious." Jude’s expression softened, and he reached across the table, taking your hand in his.

"But it’s not just Toby," you replied, pulling your hand back, unable to hide your frustration. "It’s you too, Jude. You’re defending him. You’re acting like what he said is okay, but it’s not. It’s insulting." You quipped. Jude’s eyes flashed with emotion, and you could see that he was struggling to find the right words.

"I’m not saying it’s okay," he insisted. "I’m just saying that I understand why he would say it. He’s seen people with bad intentions before. He doesn’t want that to happen." The conversation was spiraling into a place you hadn’t expected it to go. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, the hurt and frustration bubbling over.

"So, what? You think I’m just here because of who you are? Because of what you think you can give me?" You coldly asked. Jude’s eyes widened in alarm, and he immediately shook his head.

"No, no, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I trust you, I do. But you have to understand, people in my world... they can be suspicious. They can be guarded." His attempt to explain only made you feel more isolated, more misunderstood.

"I don’t want to be seen that way, Jude. I don’t want to be with someone who thinks I have an ulterior motive." You stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as you did. Jude looked up at you, his face filled with a mix of guilt and confusion.

"I don’t think that," he said softly, standing up as well. "I don’t want you to feel like this. I care about you, and I know you’re not with me for the wrong reasons." He sheepishly explained, overwhelmed by all the facts and emotions swirling in his head and he didn’t know which were right or wrong.

"But you didn’t defend me," you said, your voice breaking. "You didn’t stand up for me." Your voice quivered.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his voice full of regret. "I didn’t mean to make you feel this way. I just... I don’t know how to handle this." He stepped closer to you, reaching out to gently touch your arm. You looked up at him, the tears now threatening to spill over.

"This? You mean me? You need to figure out what you think then, Jude. I need you to be honest with yourself and decide what you think of me…not just because of who you are or what people think, but what you think." You told him outright. If you were putting yourself into uncomfortable territories for him, he had to at the very least meet you halfway.

"I know I like you," Jude’s eyes softened, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as he whispered into your hair. "I’m sorry if I made you doubt that. I’ll talk to Toby, okay? I’ll make sure he understands. I don’t want you to feel like this." You stayed in his embrace, letting the warmth of his body comfort you. The tension between you began to ease, but the hurt lingered. You knew it would take time to fully move past this, to really sort out what was going on between you two and how it just was so shaken. But in that moment, with Jude holding you close, you felt a small glimmer of hope that things would be okay.

The sun poured through the oversized windows of Jude’s Madrid home, casting a warm glow over the modern furnishings. You sat curled up on the edge of the couch, your gaze fixed on a Frieze magazine, though you weren’t really reading it. The argument from the night before still lingered in the air, creating an uncomfortable silence between you. You hadn’t fought like this before. Sure, there were disagreements and the occasional banter that could get a bit heated, but this had felt different—raw, unfiltered emotions bubbling to the surface, exposing the insecurities you both had been trying to keep at bay. Jude had a hard time fully wrapping his head around why you took such offense to Toby’s question but to you, it wasn’t nothing. It was a reminder of how fragile your situation was, how undefined and precarious your relationship felt despite how deeply you cared for each other or at least you cared about him and this amplified your questions about how important you were to him, were you ultimately just a holiday fuck?

Last night, you’d gone to bed without a word, turning your back to Jude, who had laid there in the dark, feeling the growing chasm between you. He wanted to reach out, to fix it, but pride and confusion had held him back. Now, the morning light only seemed to highlight the emotional distance, the words left unsaid building a wall between you. Jude left for training early, his departure marked by an awkward goodbye that didn’t involve your usual goodbye kiss or affectionate teasing. You had stayed behind, feeling both relieved and disappointed by the space. You didn’t want to talk, but you also didn’t want this silent treatment to stretch on or carry it home with you. As the hours passed, you found yourself thinking about all the little things—how Jude would usually text you from the dressing room, some silly message or a photo that made you laugh. But today, your phone stayed silent. The absence of those small gestures felt heavy, like a physical weight pressing down on you. You tried to distract yourself with anything you could—watching TV, flipping through social media, even cleaning up his wardrobe—but nothing could shake the sense of unease that had settled over you.

Jude wasn’t faring much better. On the pitch, his movements were mechanical, his usual flair and confidence dulled by the unresolved tension at home. His teammates noticed the difference, shooting him curious glances, but no one dared to ask. Jude was usually the life of a training session, but today he was quiet, barely engaging with the banter or jokes. His mind kept drifting back to you—how you’d barely looked at him this morning, how your usual warmth had been replaced by a cool detachment that made his stomach knot with worry. By lunch, it became unbearable. He found himself sitting alone in the cafeteria, pushing his food around his plate, unable to eat. His phone buzzed with a notification, but it wasn’t the one he wanted. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, frustration bubbling up inside him. He hated this feeling—this sense that he’d messed up but didn’t know how to fix it. After training, on Jude’s ride home from the training center his mind was racing. He didn’t know exactly what to do, but he knew he needed to make things right. He ended up stopping at a small flower shop he remembered. He picked up a massive bouquet of a myriad of green flowers, mostly hydrangeas though—your favorite. The shopkeeper wrapped them in delicate paper, adding a ribbon that matched the soft hue of the petals. Jude stared at the flowers, hoping they could somehow convey what he couldn’t seem to put into words. Before home, he made one more quick detour to Serrano, Madrid’s upscale shopping district. He remembered how you had gushed over a pair of Bottega Veneta heels you’d recently seen on Instagram, but you hadn’t bought them, saying you probably didn’t need another pair. Jude disagreed; he loved spoiling you, not just because he could, but because he wanted you to have everything and anything that made you happy. So he bought the emerald green strappy heeled sandals, picturing the look of surprise and delight on your face when you saw them. When Jude finally walked back into the house, it was late into the evening. You were back on the couch, though you’d switched from the magazine to your phone, scrolling absentmindedly. You glanced up as he entered, your expression unreadable. He held the bouquet and the gift bag a little awkwardly, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

“Hey angel,” he started, his voice softer than usual. He walked over, holding out the flowers first. “I know last night ended a little rough… I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Your eyes flicked from the flowers to his face, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if you were going to accept them. His bottom lip rolled and it made you just want to undo it all. But then you sighed, putting down your phone and taking the bouquet from him.

“They’re beautiful,” you said, your tone no longer as distant. “Thank you.” The tension in your shoulders seemed to ease slightly as you breathed in the subtle scent of the flowers. Jude let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“I got you something else too,” he added, a hint of his usual playful charm returning. He sat down beside you, the shopping bag still in his hand. You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

“What is it?” You asked, recognizing that Bottega green shopping bag with it’s signature triangle cut.

“Open it and see.” With a small smile, Jude handed you the bag. You pulled out a shoe box, your eyes widening in surprise.

“Jude, you didn’t have to…” you began, but your voice trailed off as you opened the box to see the pair of heels you’d been lusting over. “They’re perfect.” You cooed, running your fingers over the smooth leather.

“I just want you to know that I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean to downplay how you felt. I get it now… I get why it hurt.” Jude reached out, his hand finding yours, your fingers intertwining. You looked up at him, your eyes softening as you saw the sincerity in his expression.

“It’s not just about what Toby said. It’s about us… I don’t want to feel like we’re just floating, you know? Like this thing between us doesn’t matter but if that’s the case for you, you need to tell me.” You shyly told him, leaning your head onto his shoulder beside you.

“It does matter,” Jude said quickly, his grip on your hand tightening. “It matters a lot. I know I don’t always say it, but I… I really care about you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.” He cooed. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and for the first time since the argument, you felt the weight on your chest begin to lift.

“I care about you too, Jude. That’s why it hurt so much.” You squeezed his hand, your voice softening. He nodded.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I just… I don’t always know how to do this. But I’m trying, and I’m going to keep trying.” Jude spoke calmly and securely, his gaze never leaving yours. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You whispered an ‘okay,’ leaning in to close the distance between you. Jude met you halfway just like you’d hoped he would although this was a bit literal as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a kiss that held all the apologies and promises he hadn’t been able to say. When you finally pulled apart, the tension that had filled the house earlier was gone, replaced by a quiet understanding and the warmth of reconciliation. You spent the rest of the evening together, the argument fading into the background as you rediscovered the comfort of each other’s presence. You slipped on the Bottega heels, playfully showing them off to Jude, who couldn’t stop grinning at how perfect they looked on you. There were still things you needed to figure out, conversations you needed to have, but for now, you were content to just be with him, knowing that despite the challenges, you were both committed to at the very least hearing the other person out.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 5 - Important to Me xx

[applesauce42069]

My mom told me to watch Hersh's funeral. She told me I would cry.

I have been resisting it. I don't know if I have the ability. Sometimes it feels like a struggle to get from one day to the next. I don't know if I have the capacity to feel the emotions I have been feeling for the past almost year so crushingly, all at once.

My mom told me that I needed to hear the way Hersh's parents spoke about him. She told me that the things they said reminded her of me. I know she feels the same way as every other Israeli mother, who sees a picture of a hostage and knows that in some universe that is their child, no matter how far away. I was born and live across the world from where she as born in Haifa but like her and many other Israeli expats and diaspora Jews for that matter, our heart is in our homeland.

Maybe I need to watch Hersh's funeral. Maybe I need to feel these things, so crushingly, all at once. Maybe that will enable me to go on. Maybe that will give me my moment to pay my respects to him, and to all the others who have been killed and taken.

I got to campus today and saw a poster of Eden Yerushlami. I knew it was new because these posters don't last long on my campus. There are poster rippers on both sides, don't get me wrong, but there are much much more of them. The poster was put up so high on the pole that it must have been put up with a ladder. The person who put it there wanted to protect her in a way that we weren't able to in a reality. The poster says "kidnapped' but she has been murdered and I want to honestly smash my head against a wall in frustration, anger and despair but I just keep walking.

[eroguron0nsense]

Doffy and Corazon's Parents

I feel like I'm the only person I've seen who interprets the Donquixote parents –specifically Homing– the way I do? Most people can pick up on the fact that he's well-intentioned and loves his wife and children enough to lay down his life trying to protect Doffy and Cora, and I've seen a decent number of people also note that he fails as a parent to properly address Doffy's sadism/aggression/antisocial behaviour and Celestial-Dragon-Programming in ways that would actually help him live a healthy, normal life after the family left Mariejois. He's sheltered and lives in a bubble (quite literally considering that leaving Mariejois involves taking off the insulating helmet that keeps you from breathing the same air as ordinary people) and he's horrified at the prospect that the people he idealizes and wants to be like hold genuine spite towards the Celestial Dragons in ways that he can't just hope to avoid by telling the victims of his former peers that he's left all of that behind.

That being said though, I noticed while rewatching Dressrossa that as much as Homing talks about the "honesty" of living as a human and the hollowness of Celestial Dragon society, he never seems to grasp that his peers are *evil*. He thinks of their immense wealth and privilege and the city of Mariejois itself as superficial, and clearly views his peers as misguided and shallow, but he never seems to explicitly condemn the actual atrocities they regularly commit or address it in his home; even though he thinks of himself as morally superior to his peers for choosing a comparatively less opulent and less abusive lifestyle, he doesn't seem genuinely bothered by Doffy repeatedly, loudly expressing his desire to own slaves as they're unpacking. He never bothers to tell his children that his peers are wrong, and the language he uses to condemn his peers excess never actually addresses their cruelty, just his general distaste for their excess and opulence. He doesn't do anything to intervene or apologize when Doffy expresses the same views in public in front of the very people he ostensibly idealizes enough to want to be like. He announces his status right off the bat and allows his child to loudly call for the deaths of people who cross his path without ever apologizing or expressing anything beyond mild discomfort. Even when he leaves Mariejois, he's given much nicer lodgings than most of his neighbours and a decent amount of money and treasure to boot and doesn't seem to want for anything.

Essentially, the outlook Donquixote Homing holds towards humans isn't so much genuine disillusionment with the class he was born into as it is something akin to poverty tourists or orientalist expats who think they're morally superior to and more in tune with the locals than their peers. The subaltern humans exist to him mostly as an aestheticized ideal before they register as people with complex emotions and severe traumas that his peers inflict on them for shits and giggles. He doesn't even seem to register the depths of the harm that people like him have inflicted enough to even fathom that these quaint little people he used to hold power over truly hate and fear them until it's far too late to protect himself or his family.