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cherrrydragon · 1 month

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➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER NINETEEN: INTERTWINED, SEWN TOGETHER

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SUMMARY ↳ And the universe said, "I love you." You stare at them. "Infinite universes. Infinite possibilities." pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: none wc: 4.6k

It’s nighttime in Gotham, a city of shadows and contrasts that you've come to know well. The skyline is a jagged silhouette against the dark canvas of the night sky, punctuated by the occasional glimmer of lights from skyscrapers and streetlamps below.

You swing gracefully through the city, the rhythm of your movements second nature after months of navigating these streets. The cool breeze brushes against you, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and distant echoes of Gotham's perpetual hustle.

Arriving at a familiar rooftop, you land softly and take a moment to survey your surroundings. Oftentimes this is where, Damian and Jon often met you, a secluded spot where you can discuss plans, share moments of quiet, or simply enjoy each other's company away from the chaos of your nightly duties.

Tonight, however, the rooftop is empty when you arrive. The absence of their familiar presence gives you a moment to reflect on everything that has brought you to this point—the life you’ve led, the friendships you cherish, and the burgeoning feelings that have taken root in your heart.

You find yourself replaying conversations and moments in your mind, Jon's warmth and Damian's complexities intertwined with your own thoughts and uncertainties. The city seems to hold its breath around you, as if waiting for your next move.

You don’t get to, because you feel a sudden and violent gust of wind, and then there’s someone right behind you.

“[Name],” Jon breathes, pajamas and all. You turn around slowly, senses buzzing at his presence.

He takes two half-hearted steps towards you, before using his speed to get right in front of you in the split of a second. He reaches out a hand, almost instinctively, as if to steady you or perhaps himself. His gaze searches yours, his expression a mix of relief and something more complicated, something you can't quite decipher in the dim rooftop light.

“It’s you. It’s really you,” he says, reverently. His eyes trace your face, taking in every feature. “There’s no one else with that heartbeat.”

And, fuck, if that doesn’t just completely do you over.

He places his hands on your arms tightly, pulling you to him. As if you’ll disappear if he isn’t holding onto you. “What happened? Where were you?”

You try to speak, but no words come out. “You were just gone. I couldn’t hear you at all,” he whispers. He spots the Web-Watch. “What is this? Did whoever took you put it on you? Is it hurting you?”

His hand wanders over to it, and you suddenly remember how you first got stuck here in the first place. You snatch your wrist out of his range, because his strength is no joke. He looks at you confused. “It’s mine,” you choke out.

Jon's eyes narrow slightly, searching yours as if trying to unravel the mystery that surrounds you. He grabs your hands in his, gently bringing them up his face. “[Name], [Name][Name][Name],” he mutters. His lips move against your fingers, breath warm. “We’ve been searching for you everywhere.”

“I’m sorry.”

He closes his eyes tight and shakes his head. “Don’t apologize.” Jon's grip on you loosens slightly, his eyes flickering with a mixture of relief and lingering worry. "We missed you," he admits quietly. "Damian's been impossible, you know. He wouldn't rest until..."

You sigh deeply. “I honestly… didn’t think you’d care all that much,” you manage, your voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of the city's distant sounds.

“Why wouldn’t we care?” he near growls, looking at you fiercely. “With how we feel–” he cuts himself, breathing deeply. Jon's expression softens, his gaze holding yours with a depth of emotion that resonates through the quiet rooftop air. His hands remain on yours, a gentle warmth that anchors you in the moment. "I didn't think I'd see you again," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” he asks, hands moving to run down your sides. It feels nice.

“No.” Your hands lay gently on his, not moving them. “I need to tell you something. You and Damian.”

Jon's hands pause their gentle exploration, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that reflects both concern and a hint of apprehension. The rooftop seems to hold its breath around you, the city's distant sounds providing a muted backdrop to this moment of intimacy and vulnerability.

“Can you take us to the Den? To talk?”

"The Den," he repeats softly, as if testing the idea. "Yeah, we can go there. Whatever you need." His voice carries a reassurance, tinged with an unspoken question. "Are you sure you're okay to talk about this now?" Oh, Jon. Ever the sweetheart.

You nod, taking a moment to steady yourself. "You deserve to know.”

He scoops you up in his arms tentatively. His eyes linger on your form wrapped in his arms, almost longingly. He sighs when he feels your arms wrapped around his neck. He flies you across the city, urgent but at the same time leisurely. Trying to savor whatever time with you.

As you arrive, Jon gently sets you down, his concern apparent and his touch gentle. The Den's interior is familiar and comforting, the place a testament to your resilience. It looks just like you left it, like it was frozen in time. The sight of it makes your heart squeeze.

His hands gently cup your face, turning you to him. “I’m gonna go get Dami,” he says, not making any move to let you go.

Your gaze is filled with infinite amounts of fondness for the boy. “I’ll be here,” you promise. You bring your hands to his face and angle him so you lay a sweet and cherished kiss on his cheek. “I promise.”

His eyes fall to your lips for a few aching seconds before he nods. Jon lingers for a moment longer, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek before he reluctantly pulls away.

"I'll be right back," he murmurs, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance as he turns to leave the Den.

You watch Jon go, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness settle in your chest. Alone in the quiet of the Den, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. . The soft light from the fairy lights cast gentle shadows around you, creating a cocoon of solitude.

Minutes stretch into a timeless space, each second filled with the weight of anticipation. You find yourself replaying moments with Jon—his earnest concern, the warmth in his touch, and the unspoken emotions that seemed to hover between you both. Damian's complex presence also flickers through your thoughts, his sharp wit and guarded vulnerability leave an undeniable mark on your heart.

Finally, the soft sound of footsteps heralds Jon's return. He enters with Damian in tow, the atmosphere shifting subtly with their presence. Damian's expression is a mix of relief and something harder to define—perhaps a blend of concern and guarded hope. He approaches with a measured stride, his posture betraying a readiness to hear whatever you have to say.

Jon moves to stand beside you, a reassuring presence at your side. His hand finds yours, offering silent support and encouragement. Damian's gaze flickers between you and Jon, his demeanor a mix of curiosity and a hint of apprehension.

"Where have you been?" Damian demands, his voice edged with a mixture of relief and frustration.

Jon looks at him sternly, and, surprisingly (is it really, though?), Damian’s demeanor stutters. The silent signal calms his initial intensity. His gaze softens fractionally as he looks back at you. Damian contemplates for a moment, before sighing and approaching you. He takes you in with a mix of guarded concern and curiosity, his usual stoic demeanor softened slightly by the relief of seeing you safe.

“Beloved,” he mutters without constraint. His use of the endearment catches you off guard, a rare display of vulnerability from someone so often guarded. It almost makes you want to cry. He takes your face in his hands, the same way Jon did.

You feel his fingers trace your lips, a gesture that speaks volumes in its tenderness. Damian's gaze searches yours, his usually sharp eyes softened by an emotion you rarely see openly displayed. "Where have you been?"

"I thought... we thought..." he continues, voice faltering for a moment, as if grappling with the weight of his own emotions. "Are you hurt?" he asks quietly, his concern palpable in every word.

You shake your head slowly, overcome by the intensity of the moment and the flood of emotions that threaten to spill over. "I'm okay," you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible in the quiet of the Den.

Damian exhales sharply, a mixture of relief and lingering tension leaving his frame. He pulls you into a tight embrace, surprising you with the strength and earnestness of his hold. His arms wrap around you protectively, as if to shield you from any harm that might dare to approach.

"I wasn't sure if you would return," Damian admits quietly, his tone tinged with a mix of vulnerability and something deeper, something you're beginning to recognize as a bond that goes beyond mere partnership or friendship.

Jon's presence beside you feels like a grounding force, and as Damian's arms wrap around you, you realize just how much you missed this—missed them. You close your eyes, letting yourself be enveloped by the warmth of their concern and the strength of their embrace. It's a moment that transcends words, a silent affirmation of the bond you share with them.

When Damian finally releases you, his gaze still holds that unspoken question, the need to understand where you've been and why you were gone. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself to share the truth with them, to lay bare the secrets that have kept you apart.

Silence stretches between you, filled with words not said and emotions too raw to name. Finally, Damian breaks the silence, his voice steady yet filled with a quiet plea. "Don't disappear again."

You squeeze his hand gently, a silent promise passing between you. "I won't," you assure him, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself to share the truth with them, to lay bare the secrets that have kept you apart. Jon and Damian's eyes remain locked on you, their concern and anticipation on display in the quiet of the Den.

"Where do I even start?" you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "There’s a lot you don’t know about me, things I’ve kept hidden because…well, because I thought it was for the best." Jon's hand tightens around yours in silent support, while Damian's expression remains intense and focused, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m not from here,” you state, hesitant be damned. You’ve spent far too long hesitating. “I’m from Earth-143258 in an alternate universe.”

Jon and Damian exchange a glance, their expressions shifting from confusion to curiosity. Jon's grip on your hand tightens slightly, while Damian's intense focus on you doesn't waver.

“A universe where you, where the Justice League and Gotham and Metropolis don’t exist…” you look at them, “...outside of a series of comics.”

Damian's brow furrows, and Jon's eyes widen with a mix of intrigue and concern. The weight of your revelation hangs heavy in the air, the enormity of it settling in their minds.

"A different universe," Damian echoes, his voice filled with a blend of skepticism and curiosity. "And in this universe, we're...fictional?"

You nod, feeling the intensity of their gazes. "Yes. In my world, you’re all characters in comic books, movies, TV shows... You’re heroes in stories, legends. But here, you're real."

“A man named Miguel O’Hara, the Spider-Man of Earth-928, made an autonomous multiverse jump using a device like this.” You lift up your wrist to show them the Web-Watch. “Using it, he amassed an elite force of others like him from different universes. Including me.”

“Karen, would you mind?” you ask. Suddenly, a hologram forms, showing the intricate base of operations that is the Spider-HQ. “Our purpose is to protect the multiverse from anomalies and threats that could destroy entire realities. Sometimes people end up in the wrong universe, and we send them back to their home universe as well.” The hologram casts a gentle glow on their faces. “We call it the Spider-Society.”

The hologram shifts, changing into a bright tree. An intricate veil of webs expands around you, filling the space. “This is all of us. All of our lives woven together in a web.” You take a moment to admire the image. “The web of the multiverse.”

Jon and Damian stare at the hologram, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief. The tree of webs illuminates the Den, casting intricate shadows that seem to weave the narrative you’re sharing. Jon's grip on your hand remains firm, a silent anchor as you delve deeper into your explanation.

“All of our stories are pretty much the same. We get bit by a radioactive spider that gives us powers, and we use those powers to help people.”

Damian listens intently, his usual skepticism softened by the gravity of your words. He glances at Jon, silently exchanging a look that conveys both their shared disbelief and the realization that your story, no matter how fantastical, is being delivered with sincerity.

“Was there an… anomaly in our universe then?” ask Damian, looking at you.

“No,” you sigh. “I was never supposed to be here.”

Your legs carry you closer to the hologram, Jon following in an effort to not lose his grip on you. “I found a particle accelerator. Most of the time that means nothing good. Turns out, an alternate version of me,” you emphasize, “[Name] [L.Name], had gotten stuck in my universe and was just trying to get home. But seeing me,” you pause, taking a breath.

“All they saw was someone trying to get in their way. They activated the particle accelerator and threw me in it.” You turn to look at them. “That’s how I ended up here.”

Damian and Jon exchange a glance, their expressions a mix of disbelief and concern. Jon's grip on your hand tightens slightly, his eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy and determination.

“So, you’ve been… lost all this time?” Jon asks softly, his voice carrying the weight of the revelation.

“The whole reason I wanted to create the badassium was so I could use it to power another watch,” you say, looking down at it. “Since other me destroyed it.”

“A while ago, they visited me. In this universe.” You look at Jon. “On New Years.” You watch as recognition flickers in his eyes. “You can imagine how well I reacted.”

“That’s why you were crying,” he says softly in realization. “Suddenly seeing the reason you were… stuck.”

“I told them to find Miguel O’hara. And he did, a week ago.”

Jon's hand brushes your cheek gently, his touch a comforting presence amidst the weight of your words. Damian stands nearby, his expression unreadable as he processes the implications of your story.

“So, this entire time,” he begins, voice hinting with disbelief, “while we have been over ourselves with worry that you were somewhere hurt–”

“Damian,” cuts in Jon sternly.

Damian ignores him. “You were enjoying yourself, finally home and away from this cursed place you got stuck in? Somewhere we couldn’t even begin to look for you? Is that it?”

Your heart sinks at Damian's words, his anger and frustration cutting deeply. You can see the mix of emotions in his eyes—relief, betrayal, confusion—all battling for dominance.

“No,” you whisper desperately. “No, it wasn’t like that. In fact, the whole time I was home I couldn’t focus on being happy because I was focused on you,” you state. “On how I left things and how I wished I could explain everything to you but who could I when there’s such a disconnect between us–” you choke, cutting yourself off.

“Didn’t you think we cared? That we deserved to know?”

You flinch at his words, the truth of them hitting harder than you expected. “I… I didn’t know what to think,” you admit quietly, meeting Damian’s gaze with a mix of regret and vulnerability. “In my world, you’re… different. Fictional. I never expected…” Your voice trails off, unable to find the right words to express the complexity of your emotions.

“I would’ve never even considered the possibility of your existence before now,” you whisper. “I really should’ve known better.”

You stare at them. “Infinite universes. Infinite possibilities.”

“Then why didn’t you stay?” Damian asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you were finally home, why come back?”

You take a deep breath, the weight of Damian's question hanging in the air. Your gaze shifts between Jon and Damian, their eyes reflecting the depth of their concern and the complexity of their feelings.

“How could I?” you ask them. “After everything, how could you expect me not to feel the way I feel?”

"When I first got here," you continue, "I felt lost, out of place. But then I met you both, and everything changed. You became my friends, my partners, my family. The thought of leaving you behind... pretending everything that happened never happened. It was unbearable."

“You're real,” you say softly. “Everything about you, and everything I feel about you is real.”

Silence descends upon the Den, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Damian's gaze remains fixed on you, his usual guarded demeanor momentarily faltering under the weight of your sincerity. You feel Jon’s grip on you tighten, a constant presence of support and understanding at your side.

You breathe in. “I’m telling you this now, because you deserve to know. And if you’ll have me..”

Looking at them now is like looking at destiny. “I’d like to stay in your lives.”

Damian's expression softens imperceptibly, his gaze lingering on you with a mixture of contemplation and something deeper that you can't quite decipher. Jon squeezes your hand gently, a silent reassurance that speaks volumes amidst the unspoken tension in the room. They look at each other for a heart stopping moment.

"Beloved," Damian murmurs softly, his voice holding a rare vulnerability. "You've been missed."

Jon nods in agreement, his eyes conveying a depth of emotion that mirrors your own. "We want you here," he says quietly, his voice a steady anchor in the midst of uncertainty.

You nod, a weight lifting from your shoulders as you step closer to them. Jon's arms wrap around you first, pulling you into a warm embrace that feels like coming home. Damian joins, his embrace steady and reassuring, his presence a grounding force amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

You take a deep breath, feeling the warmth of their embrace resonate deep within you. "Thank you," you say, your voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you for choosing me.”

Jon presses a gentle kiss to your temple, and Damian's hand finds yours, his grip firm and reassuring. "We always will," Jon vows, his voice steady.

“Well,” starts Jon, grabbing your shoulder to turn you to face him. “If it’s no trouble, I’d really like to kiss you now.”

Your chuckle breaks the tension, and you nod, unable to keep the smile off your face. Jon's eyes light up with a mix of relief and affection as he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender, heartfelt kiss.

It’s different from Damian’s kiss. His lips move in tandem against yours, intertwined, sewn together. His hands rest on your waist, squeezing lightly.

Jon's kiss is a symphony of warmth and tenderness, a stark contrast to the urgency and passion that often defines Damian's touch. You can feel the depth of his emotions in every gentle movement of his lips, the way he holds you as if you're the most precious thing in his world. The kiss is a promise, a reassurance, and a declaration all at once.

Damian watches the exchange with a soft, almost imperceptible smile. He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your chin, tilting your face towards him. "Beloved," he murmurs, his voice a low, intimate rumble. "My turn."

His kiss is different from Jon's—more intense, a reflection of his complex emotions and the guarded vulnerability he's allowed himself to show. It's a kiss that speaks of his longing, his relief. When he finally pulls back, his eyes search yours, seeking reassurance.

Later that night, you sit between Jon and Damian, cuddled up on a worn-out couch in the Den, the soft glow of the fairy lights casting a warm light around the room. Small talk fills the space.

“Wait, so, Wonder Woman doesn’t exist, but Thor, God of thunder, does?” asks Jon. You’re not paying all that much attention to him since the feeling of his fingers caressing your side is quite distracting.

“I guess the universe picked and chose,” you hum.

“So there’s no Justice League?”

“There's the Avengers,” you say. “Just as cool as the Justice League. And they’re my friends,” you grin triumphantly.

Damian listens quietly, eyes lidded and content. “Were you a fan of these comics you mentions earlier?”

Your grin turns a little shy. “Maybe just a little bit.”

Jon's fingers trace idle patterns on your arm, a comforting gesture that grounds you in the present moment. "Does that mean you know all our secrets?" he teases lightly, a playful glint in his eyes.

You raise an eyebrow, matching his playful tone. “I don’t need pre-knowledge to figure out all I need to know about you.” Your hand flattens against his chest, rubbing along it.

Jon sighs at your touch, eyes fluttering. “Smooth,” he murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to yours. You melt into the kiss, the warmth of Jon’s lips against yours sending a shiver down your spine. His hand moves to cup your cheek tenderly, his touch gentle yet filled with a quiet intensity that speaks of promises and shared moments.

Across from you, Damian watches with a mixture of amusement and something deeper, his gaze lingering on the intimacy between you and Jon. He clears his throat, drawing your attention. “As much as I appreciate witnessing this... display of affection,” he says, voice tinged with a hint of dry humor, “perhaps now is not the time.”

Jon presses a few more kisses to your lips before breaking away. “You’re just jealous,” Jon teases, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied grin.

Damian rolls his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitch upward in a rare display of amusement. “Hardly. You two are insatiable.”

“Insatiable is right,” you mutter, staring at Damian’s lips.

Damian raises an eyebrow at your comment, a hint of amusement coloring his expression. "I beg your pardon?"

You shrug, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I mean, you're not exactly innocent in all of this," you tease, leaning closer to him. "The way you kissed me back then..."

You turn back to look at Jon. “Did you know he picked me up and pinned me against the wall?”

Jon’s eyes widen in mock surprise, his playful demeanor matching yours. “Did he now?” he asks, leaning closer with exaggerated curiosity. “You have to tell me all about it.”

Damian's cheeks color slightly, but he meets your teasing with a smirk. "I don't recall you complaining," he retorts, his voice laced with amusement.

You move, placing yourself on Damian’s lap, and wrapping your arms around his neck. Damian's hands settle comfortably around your waist as you settle on his lap, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of amusement and something deeper, a warmth that lingers beneath his usual stoic demeanor. Jon watches the exchange with a playful grin, leaning back against the couch as he enjoys your dynamic.

Damian’s expression softens slightly, his sharp features betraying a hint of the turmoil beneath. “I… I apologize for my earlier insensitivity,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a rare humility. “It’s… difficult to process.”

You lean forward, your hands playing with Damian's hair as you look into his eyes. "Don’t apologize," you say softly. "I get it."

Damian's gaze softens as he meets your eyes, his usual guarded demeanor giving way to a vulnerability that speaks volumes. "Thank you," he murmurs quietly, his voice holding a depth of emotion that resonates through the quiet of the Den.

Jon watches the exchange with a soft smile, his hand finding yours once more as he leans in closer. "We're here for you," he says gently, his voice a steady reassurance amidst the lingering tension.

You smile warmly, leaning in to press a kiss to Damian's forehead. "We're in this together," you assure him, your voice filled with sincerity. Jon leans in from his spot beside you, pressing a kiss to Damian's cheek with a fond grin.

Oh, you remember something. “You know what I found out?” A small grin spreads across your face. “I went to have a talk with alternate me.” Your finger gently traces patterns on Damian’s chest. “Found out something really interesting.”

“And what would that be?” Damian mutters, subdued by your touch. Jon’s hand comes up to rest on your back.

“Most of us Spider’s usually have the same people in our lives,” you begin, voice dropping. “A Gwen Stacy, an MJ, maybe a Felicia Hardy,” you lift your head to look at Damian. “AKA, the Spider’s very own cat burglar, Black Cat.” Damian raises a brow at that.

“However, they didn’t have any of those people. You know what they did have, though?” you ask, pausing for dramatic effect.

“They had you two,” you say softly, gaze shifting between them. “Damian Wayne and Jon Kent. Not Superboy or Robin, just completely normal people.” Jon and Damian exchange a glance, their expressions reflecting a mix of surprise and contemplation.

“I love you,” you say, smiling softly. “I love you in every universe.”

Jon stares at you, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and affection. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, a silent affirmation of his feelings. Damian looks up at you like you're a thing to be worshiped, face one of awe. “We love you too,” he murmurs, his voice carrying a depth of emotion that resonates through the quiet of the Den.

Jon sighs contentedly, leaning back into the couch with a smile. "I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing that," he admits, his voice smitten.

You laugh softly, the warmth of their affection enveloping you in a cocoon of happiness. "Get used to it," you tease gently, resting your head against Damian's shoulder. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Damian's hand finds yours, his touch grounding and reassuring. "We wouldn't want you to," he murmurs, his voice a soft whisper that echoes through the room.

Jon nods in agreement, his gaze never leaving yours. "You're stuck with us," he says with a playful grin, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead.

The three of you settle into a comfortable silence, the Den filled with the quiet intimacy of shared moments and spoken promises. As the night stretches on, you find yourself surrounded by the warmth of their presence, knowing that in this moment, and in the countless moments to come, you've found who you truly belong with.

Wrapped in their embrace, you let all your worries wash away, the echoes of their voices and the steady rhythm of their hearts lulling you into a state of peace. In the quiet darkness of the Den, amidst the city's distant hum, you find solace in the knowledge that you are home—at last, and always—with Jon and Damian by your side.

notes: see you guys sunday for the epilogue :)

#damian wayne x reader #dc x reader #jon kent x reader #robin x reader #superboy x reader

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uniquesdata · 1 year

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foreverisntenough · 14 days

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‘Act II’

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

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

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

Chapter 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

#jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jb5 #bellingham x reader

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swiftyangx12 · 26 days

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🕸️Webs Intertwined🕸️

[Pairing]: Villain!Miguel x Spider-Woman![Reader]

[Synopsis]: Miguel has encountered a respectable scientist from another competitor and things get interesting.

[TW]: Female Reader insert, Marvel/ATSV Violence, Moral Quarrels

[A/N]: This is inspired by @exhaslo’s Corruption series. Ex, if you’re reading this, you’re an awesome writer and I adore your work. Especially the smu-!

Just another day at ALCHEMAX, employees with their assigned duties and responsibilities while heads lowered to avoid distractions. Though, many stir clear from one such scientist, specifically the infamous geneticist and son of the company’s owner, Dr. Miguel O’Hara. A ruthless madman who would do anything to “improve” humanity, no matter whose life is destroyed.

However, things would change when another famous company signed a deal, a collaboration where both respectable parties will start working together for future projects. People whisper among themselves that the other also has their own infamous scientist, but they seem a little "nicer" than O’Hara. For such example, they don’t risk anyone’s live and safety during highly dangerous experiments.

Meet…

[Y/N], a bright and cold bioengineer: I’m Dr. [Y/N] [L/N]. It seems my company is collaborating with yours for the entire year.

Villain!Miguel: “Shock, she’s beautiful.” It appears so.

[Y/N]: My director informed that I’ll be working with you for the time being. Here’s my business card, and contact me for work purposes only.

Villain!Miguel: “Cold and strict. Shocking Hell, gonna melt [Y/N] and make her mine.”

♦️🔷🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷��🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️ 🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🔷♦️

As weeks flew by since the start of the collaboration, workers from both sides feel the high tension between O’Hara and [L/N]. Everyday is eventful from the two who always battle each other with different ideas to deem whose is better with less casualties. They even bicker during break times.

[Y/N]: Absolutely not! We are not jeopardizing our coworkers for your cruel experiments. We need to start with smaller subjects before human trials.

Villain!Miguel: Think of the possibilities, [L/N]. Humanity needs better outcomes so it’s best to use them.

[Y/N]: O’Hara, we’re trying to help others. Not play God by sacrificing many people.

Villain!Miguel: Help. You think it would change for the better.

[Y/N]: Rather to continue with testing than have high body counts. It’s why our companies signed together, to enhances civilians so they can live healthier and be at the appropriate age to move on from life.

Villain!Miguel: “Even her view on humanity is too good, and macabre.”

♦️🔷🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️ 🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🔷♦️

As the sun already set with lights of Nueva York shun bright through the night’s darkness, trouble already started. Criminals from many corners of the city have begun with their dirty work, however a certain spider has to prevent the rates from climbing up.

Spider-Woman: *Hangs the defeated criminals in her web* “Stupid shocking O’Hara. Why so obsessed with messing with people? Trying to prove to someone?” *Sighs* At least these idiots are easy tonight…

Spider-Woman notifies the police to clean the mess up and shoots her webbing, swinging out of the scene. She swung from buildings to skyscrapers while discreet at best to avoid witnesses…

“Did you see the news?”

“An actual hero.”

“We haven’t seen one since the Era of Heroes.”

Word got around as scientists and nosy coworkers gossip among themselves about the mysterious hero. Though they sounded in disbelief, were ecstatic that an actual heroic figure is present in their precious city.

[Y/N]: People, we have work to do. You can talk during your breaks, but not while doing your routines.

Everyone around Dr. [L/N] groan and return to their work while some need their coffee. As unfortunate timing for [Y/N], a familiar presence casted over her.

Villain!Miguel: You don't like the new hero?

[Y/N]: *Not turning to face him while feeling disgust and annoyance* O'Hara. No, it's a distraction. We have other priorities to fulfill before fooling around.

Villain!Miguel: So uptight. Have you actually loosened up during your hours?

[Y/N]: I'm just doing my job. Unlike you, a reckless scientist who care less of others. *Walks past Miguel without looking at him the slightest*

Villain!Migual: *Chuckles lowly* We'll see about that.

Later in the evening, [L/N] had to deliver some late-night reports to Miguel’s office and arrived at the door. She heard from other ALCHEMAX workers of how secretive he is with his work, so he has his A.I. assistant, L.Y.L.A. to drop updates of any whereabouts that concern him.

L.Y.L.A.: *Materializes in front of the bioengineer* Hey girl! Here to drop some reports, I see.

[Y/N]: Yes, I just finished them. Could you let me in?

L.Y.L.A.: Sure thing! *Opens the automated doors to the office* Just be aware I have eyes everywhere. *Adjusts her heart-shaped glasses and smirks*

[Y/N]: “Not for long.”

[Y/N] shivers as the cool air from the room hits her. Before entering, she pulls out a hard drive and inserts it in the keypad next to the doors.

L.Y.L.A.: What are you-

[Y/N]: *Calmly commands* Shut the cameras off.

L.Y.L.A.: *Shuts them off unwillingly* What did you do?

[Y/N]: Just updated your system and added in something that can benefit me. *Her eyes glare down at the A.I.* I want you to follow these commands: don't record any footage involving my presence, especially with audio recordings. This includes what I'm about to commit tonight. And also, don't tell Miguel about this. If you do, I’ll insert a nasty virus that you’ll never recover from. Do I make myself clear?

L.Y.L.A.: *Nods silently and disappears*

Then [Y/N] steps into the room, observing the unfamiliar surrounding and proceeds to drop off the reports. Afterwards, she searches through his desk and found notes explaining some unethical experiments.

[Y/N]: Genetically modified arachnids? O'Hara, what are you playing with? *Snaps most of the notes with her phone*

[Y/N] took more images of the arachind species displayed in the office and neatly places everything back in order. She leaves the room quickly and returns home like nothing happened.

Nights passed since that event, Spider-Woman swings around the city. The breeze hitting her face as being shielded behind her mask, performing the duties as presumably the only hero people are protected by and all seems normal. Until she encounters another problem.

Spider-Woman: *Lands on the wall and sneakily crawls into a safe space to relax a little* Oh my god, that bastard is playing like if he’s God. No worries, he’s just a pawn I’ll knock down.

Then her Spider-Sense is triggered.

Spider-Woman: Shit, someone’s here. *Hides in the shadows*

As Spider-Woman peeks out, she sees a menacingly tall figure stood with his back turn to her view. Dark, skin-tight blue suit with intimidating crimson accents.

Spider-Woman: “Who is he? Wait, that can’t be him, right? I know that backside from anywhere. Ugh, why did I acknowledge the details?"

The crime fighter escapes through the shadows and swings away from the scene.

Back at ALCHEMAX located in a temporary office, the bioengineer herself couldn’t sleep much since the discovery from that night. She knew the man back at the late hour during one of her patrols. It was none other than Miguel because everything was connected from the notes, catalogs of species, and everything to manipulate nature itself, especially the human kind. While lost in thought, [Y/N] didn’t notice someone behind her…

“[Y/N]?”

[Y/N]: *Spider-Sense triggered and quickly turns around* WHAT?!

Villain!Miguel: *Little surprised* You didn’t have to be that tense with me.

[Y/N]: I…I’m just tired from working long hours. Are you here discussing about the project or to annoy me again?

Villain!Miguel: It’s about the project. Stone requested that before it’s finished...

Miguel's voice in [Y/N]'s perspective became mudded as she couldn't stop thinking of that night when it was obvious that the other Spider is in front of her.

Later at night, Spider-Woman was out patrolling as always, shooting her webs to grapple onto buildings as she swings through her beloved city. Then trouble arose as she witness cittizens running away from the source.

Spider-Woman: *Lands on the side of a tower and scans the area* Great, Doc Ock came back. *Leaps off and swings in scene*

Spider-Woman reaches to the chaos her notorious nemesis created. She lands in front of the eight-legged former scientist.

Spider-Woman: I thought you were sent to prison, for help.

Doc Ock: They mean nothing to me. All I want is to show who’s boss and why they shouldn’t have!ignored everything I worked hard for!

Spider-Woman: Ock, we…I would have helped you with another way but your actions killed innocent lives.

Doc Ock: *Scoffs* They were in the way.

Spider-Woman: *Pissed* In the way?! *Shoots webs behind Doc Ock*

The webs attach to a wrecked vehicle and Spider-Woman yanks them towards Doc Ock.

Doc Ock: *Blocks the attack by caging themselves with their mechanical appendages*

Spider-Woman: *Wraps more webs around the tentacles*

However Doc Ock breaks free from their bonds and swings their tendrils, attempting to swat at the arachnid figure. Spider-Woman leaps backwards, performing backflips and throwing some Web-Bombs at the mechanical cephalopod. They become stuck in place due to the blown-out silk.

Spider-Woman: Doc, you need to return back to your cell.

Doc Ock: *Struggling to escape* Never…I rather die than be directed by anyone.

Spider-Woman: *Sighs* Just return back. We already caused enough damage for today.

As she was about to finish catching the villain, another criminal was on the loose. Spider-Woman’s sense was triggered but it was too late, the other figure swoops in, able to knock the spider hero. She braces herself and crashes into a wall.

Spider-Woman: *Plops down and barely moving* G-Goblin! You two are working together? *Struggles to get up*

Goblin: *Smiles sinisterly* Bingo! Octco was merely distracting you.

Spider-Woman: *Able to sit up but was kick down by Goblin*

Goblin: Now I get to squish this pesky spider~

Before Goblin could end the heroism of Spider-Woman, they were yanked back by more web.

Spider-Woman: “Neon red? He’s here. Wait, feeling limp…Fuck, passing out…”

[Y/N] shoots up awake, breathing steadily as she looks around the foreign setting. It seems like a bedroom and looking down, her suit is gone replaced with a university shirt and some shorts.

She gets quickly got out of bed and rush out of the room. Walking quickly on the chill wooden flooring and looking for someone. Then, she stops at an office where her worst nightmare sits behind the desk.

[Y/N]: O’Hara? No, wait, I should address you as that other web-crawler.

Villain!Miguel: You finally figured out. Congrats.

[Y/N]: I already know it’s you because of your backside. Who else has a muscular back shaped like the discontinued Doritos?

Villain!Miguel: And who else was acting too suspicious when I already know you’re Spider-Woman?

[Y/N]: You already know my other identity?

Villain!Miguel: Of course I know. I sense you, by your scent.

[Y/N]: You smelled me?! I need a minute.

♦️🔷🕷️🕸️[Hours Later]🕸️🕷️🔷♦️

[Y/N]: *Carefully sips some tea Miguel brewed for her*

Villain!Miguel: Calm down?

[Y/N]: *Sighs* Yeah, I’m good. Disturbed, but good. When did you get your powers, O’Hara?

Villain!Miguel: I had experimented on myself a couple months back. When did you get yours?

[Y/N]: ...

Villain!Miguel: Heh, won't confess? Guess I'll force it out of you~

[Y/N]: Do that and I'll force something up your ass.

Villain!Miguel: *Laughs a little* This is one of the many things I love about you.

[Y/N]: *Sighs* I was bit by a spider that was genetically modified back in my company. My director put me in charge of developing more advacned medicines to help people. Somehow, one of the specimens escaped from its enclosure and you know the rest. I'm Nueva York's only Spider-Hero, until you came along as an invasive pest.

Villain!Miguel: Where did you even get these spiders?

[Y/N]: Some biologists and other specialists procured these kinds of species, but why am I telling you this? I have a mission to fulfill.

Villain!Miguel: What mission?

[Y/N]: It’s none of your business. Personal matters for me, only.

Villain!Miguel: Fine. Then you don’t mind explaining these.

Miguel pulls out [Y/N]’s suit and gadgets he held up. He got a hold of them when the bioengineer was resting from the last battle.

Villain!Miguel: Voice modifier. You really know how to hide your identity.

[Y/N]: O’Hara, this isn’t for show n’ tell. I need my suit back and my gadgets too.

Villain!Miguel: I can’t let you go yet. I need to know more about your powers.

[Y/N]: Miguel, this isn’t the time for jokes. I have a mission and you’re in the way.

Villain!Miguel: Tell me what’s your mission and maybe I’ll hand everything back.

[Y/N]: I’m not explaining until you give my stuff back.

Villain!Miguel: *Smirks and he levels his face to hers* Make me~

[Y/N]: *Punches his stomach hard*

Villain!Miguel: *Crouches down and lets go of [Y/N]’s gadgets and suit*

[Y/N]: *Quickly gatherings her belongings and exits out of the apartment*

That evening, Spider-Woman was swinging around the city. Leaping from one building to the next skyscraper as she tries to formulate another plan to get rid of Miguel. Safely landing on the rooftop of an apartment complex, [Y/N] removed her mask to get some fresh air. Viewing the city helps her to relax and keep calm.

Spider-Woman: *Spider Senses triggered* What now, O’Hara? *Turns her direction towards his*

Spider-Man: *Lifts his hands up* I just followed you.

Spider-Woman: Followed me? *Turns off her modifier* Did you smell me like a blood hound?! Tracking me down and other creepy shit you do.

Spider-Man: ‘Course not. I put a tracker on you.

Spider-Woman: *Finds the tracker and smashes it to bits* What do you want from me?

Spider-Man: I just want to understand why are you doing this. Why’d you have a vendetta against me?

Spider-Woman: You wouldn’t understand, Miguel.

Spider-Man: I know I don’t. Just tell me why?

Spider-Woman: Want to know why? Fine. I’m only doing this to get back at your father for killing my parents. I’ve planned everything just to bring his empire down, along with his prodigy of a monster. I dedicated my life and education to destroy everything Stone built and tear his family apart so no one else can be harmed by them.

Spider-Man: I’m not like my father. I was never like him.

Spider-Woman: Will you shut it? Just like that murderer, you decide to hide everything from the public for your own gain. I’m giving back what people deserve to know.

Spider-Man: *Feels a painful string from that comment* [Y/N], you don’t have to do this.

Spider-Woman: *Scoffs* Oh, please! I know you’re eyeing me the whole time because you assumed I’m a spy, right?

Spider-Man: “No, I thought you are the most beautiful woman I ever met and wishing to have you with me forever. ㅜ_ㅜ”

Spider-Woman: *Sighs* Miguel, just stay away from me. We’re only coworkers by day, not close after hours. Don’t want you ruining everything. *Shoots her web and swings off*

A week has passed, the two are founded in the most uncomfortable atmosphere. [Y/N], still keeping her word of only communicating with Miguel for work while the mad man himself, he didn’t try anything to disturb the other. Colleagues and other workers already knew something happened between them. And it’s a first to see Miguel in a much depressive state.

At the end of the day, there aren’t any crimes to solve and the bioengineer took this as a night off from her responsibilities for now. Then, someone came to visit.

[Y/N]: *Holding up her phone* What are you doing here?

“Villain”!Miguel: *Sighs* Here. *Holds out a thumb drive* It’s most of the data of ALCHEMAX’s illegal projects.

[Y/N]: *Looks at him suspiciously and carefully takes the thumb drive* You know I’ll be running this if it’s untraceable and hopefully you’re not tricking me.

“Villain”!Miguel: I’m not. Why’d you have to be so cold?

[Y/N]: I don’t trust you, that’s why. You’re Stone’s son and heard from former workers that you were evil enough to force them to participate in dangerous trials. It proves my judgement on you is true.

“Villain”!Miguel: …What if I prove you wrong?

[Y/N]: What?

“Villain”!Miguel: I’ll prove I’m not bad.

[Y/N]: Really? Would that undo the years of torment you caused?

“Villain”!Miguel: No. I can do better. Just give me a chance.

[Y/N]: “I don’t know. He’s probably using this as an advantage against me. Better not let my guard down. Though, he’ll be more persistent if he continues.” Fine, are you willing to put your own father behind bars?

“Villain”!Miguel: If it shows I’m good, yeah.

[Y/N]: “It takes time to gain my trust, you freaky-ass man.”

As months pass, the atmosphere surrounding the two scientists feels lighter. The duo seemed to communicate better without much disdain though they sometimes quarrel and in their case, [Y/N] would be the one to walk away from the conversation to cool off but is always followed by a 6'9 semi-former mad scientist like if he was a dog worried about his fuming owner.

[Y/N]: Dr. O'Hara, would you stop following me? And quit hugging me, I'm working.

"Villain"!Miguel: *Holds her closer to his chest* No. I feel better staying with you.

Some of their colleagues are questioning their dynamic.

"What’s happening with Dr. O'Hara?”

“You think he finally lost his mind?”

“Don’t know, but I think Dr. [L/N] has something to do with his behavior.”

[Y/N]: O’Hara, people are talking about us. Let me go.

“Villain”!Miguel: So? Let ‘em. At least they know not to bother us.

[Y/N]: “Ugh. Such a clingy man.”

In the duration of their time together, the two Spiders were able to gather evidence of Stone’s future plans and defeat other villains connected to him, bringing down the corrupted empire. With his presence gone, someone else would have to take over his position which leads to Miguel filling in the role.

[Y/N]: Well, our collaboration has finished just as Stone is taken custody for his crimes. This means we’ll not see each other as much.

“Villain”!Miguel: Yeah, that’s right.

[Y/N]: It was pleasant working with you while it lasted. Hopefully we’ll work together in the future. *Remains professional but has a sadden look in her eyes*

Before she can leave, Miguel stopped her tracks.

“Villain”!Miguel: Wait. If you’re okay with this, could I buy you a drink? If you’re alright with that. I know it doesn’t make up what happened to you and everything my father did to hurt your family. I want to be better for you and do everything I can to help make your life easier-

[Y/N]: Miguel, stop. With everything we went through these past months of cooperating with our projects for making the future better and safer while stopping your father, I’ll take my chances going out with you.

“Villain”!Miguel: [Y/N]… *Gently holds her hands* Gracias, for trusting me to take you out.

The months after the confession, [Y/N] still works for her company while Miguel runs ALCHEMAX by his own terms. Changing for the better of his employees and botches out the illegal activities Stone left after his arrest. Everything seems to be the same, though the only thing that has evolve were Nueva York’s heroes working as partners and lovers…

[5 years later]

[Y/N]: …And they lived happily together for the rest of their lives.

Gabriella: Woah…Love does change people.

[Y/N]: *Smiles warmly* It does. Now… *Tucks her daughter in* It’s bed time, sweetheart.

Gabriella: What happened to the couple?

[Y/N]: I’m sure they’re enjoying life together and keeping each other loved.

♦️🔷🕷️🕸️[Later]🕸️🕷️🔷♦️

[Y/N]: Gabi’s asleep. Miguel, I’m worried.

Miguel: What’s there to worry about?

[Y/N]: Our daughter could have our powers, but the side effects…What if they hurt our baby?

Miguel: Cariño, there’s no worry. I checked and she won’t have to suffer.

[Y/N]: Still, I don’t want her to feel as if the powers are a curse.

Miguel: We’ll do everything we can to help her. Be there for her.

[Y/N]: You’re right. We need to be by her side.

Miguel: Sí, we’ll support her. Hey, maybe we’ll give her some “enforcements” to cheer for her. *Giving her a knowing look*

[Y/N]: *Understood the innuendo* Miguel, I was still sore from our first time. Despite having powers, you ravaged me like a demon in heat.

Miguel: Thought you needed a day off at that time.

[Y/N]: *Deadpans at him* -_- I had to call in sick for the next three days.

Miguel: Then Gabi wouldn’t exist if we didn’t.

[Y/N]: *Sighs* At least it was on a Saturday. Come on, it’s your turn patrolling. Maybe after you come back, we’ll talk about siblings if Gabi is okay with it.

Miguel: *Gets thrilled hearing a possibility of growing his family* I’ll get to it.

[Y/N]: Okay. Just come back in one piece. *Kisses on his lips* And still breathing. I love you.

Miguel: *Smiles down at her* Love you, too.

[THE END]

[Tagged]: @mrsoharaa @lazyjellyfish300 @hao-ming-8 @greensagephase @queenoftiddies @kenjioharashotspot

[A/N]: FINALLY! I FINISHED THIS PIECE THAT’S BEEN IN MY DRAFT FOR MONTHS! Yes, I wrote Villain!Miguel as if he was a neglected puppy who wants to be with the feisty kitten (The [Reader]). But it adds flavor for a Hero x Villain trope. I tried to write the reader as someone who acts cold, but with boundaries they put up for valid reasons. The kind of traits like Viper from Valorant. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this story.

💙🕷️❤️Reblogs help creators and creates more content💙🕷️❤️

#Marvel #Spider-Man: Across The Spiderverse #Across The Spiderverse #ATSV #Spider-Man 2099 #Miguel O’Hara #Villain!Miguel #Villain!Miguel x Reader #Villain!Miguel x Hero!Reader #Spider-Man 2099 x reader #Miguel O’Hara x reader #Across The Spiderverse x reader #ATSV x reader

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