Before His Choice- A.donaldson

before his choice- a.donaldson

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a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

this is like the prelude to the other stuff but i get that it's confusing that it's coming out later- i didn't think i'd turn this into a series so i didn't exactly have a plan, sorry :)

this is 18+, mdni plssss

summary: how it was before art ruined your relationship

pairing: art donaldson x reader

warnings: smuttttt, 18+, piv using protection (don't be silly, wrap it), oral (f receiving), cute couple moments

(i think that's it but pls tell me if i forgot anything:)

PART 2: choices and chances PART 3: choices and meetings

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“There goes Stanford’s favourite couple!” Megan rolled her eyes playfully. Art had his arms draped around your shoulders as you walked around campus as the sun set. Art chuckled and flipped her off, smirking as you laughed. Megan had been your roommate in your first year and you’d been best friends ever since.

You and Art were Stanford’s favourite couple. You were tennis prodigies, both extremely talented and both of you were friends with basically everyone. Everyone was always rooting for the two of you, apparently there was a fan page dedicated to your relationship. 

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“How was practice with Tash?” He asked, his arms circling your waist as you leant against the wall, waiting in line in the canteen. 

“Fine, she’s getting better,” You shrugged. Tashi had never been able to beat you, but she was getting better.

“She’s not going to beat you,” He smirked, pressing kisses against your cheeks.

“She’s really good!” You giggled, feeling his hands squeeze your waist harder. “I wouldn’t mind, maybe then she wouldn’t hate me.”

“Tashi doesn’t hate you,” he shook his head. He knew it was a semi-lie, Tashi didn't like loosing. You were the only person capable of making her loose.

“She doesn’t like me Art, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” you sighed. “Anyway, enough tennis, what are we doing tonight?”

Art smirked. “We have that party-”

You groaned. Art always wanted to go out, then leave early. In your opinion, why not just cut out the middleman and go straight to your dorm? “Art, what is the point?”

“You look hot in dresses,” He shrugged and chuckled as you playfully hit him on the arm. “Come on, it’ll be fun! We can dance and hang out with our friends.”

You rolled your eyes at the way he’s pretending it’s a choice. “It’s not like I have a choice, I picked date night last time.” 

“Exactly, so we’re going,” he grinned and you cupped his cheek, kissing him heavily. He was so beautiful, what else were you supposed to do? You pulled away quickly and moved up in the line, beginning to order both your lunches. You drove Art insane sometimes. Your pretty tennis skirts, your sweet lips on his, you. 

He did recognise that his brain was still stuck in the gutter like a teenage boy when it came to sex. He didn’t seem to mind much though. 

He placed his hand on your ass as you ordered for the both of you and he saw how you gulped.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’s head was in the gutter. 

You collected your food and sat at a table together, enjoying the canteen food.

“You’ll wear the red dress, right?” He asked. It was his favourite colour, and the colour of the college that the two of you would be representing. 

“No, Nike sent over something for me to wear, I think it’s purple,” you shrugged. Your partnership with Nike meant at every event you went to, you were representing them. That meant they were often sending you new things. 

“Purple?” He questioned.

“Yeah, like plum-y purple,” you shrugged. 

“Can’t wait,” he winked at you and you kicked him under the table. 

Tonight was going to be a long night. 

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You finished styling your hair as Art walked into your dorm, baby blue shirt and some black formal trousers on, his blonde curls looking particularly beautiful. The dress Nike had sent over was beautiful, Art’s jaw dropped when he saw you. 

You were gorgeous. 

“Hey baby,” You smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his stunned cheek. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He stated. You chuckled at him as his hands gripped your waist, making you look at him. “You’re so, so beautiful.”

“You look handsome,” You smiled, smoothing out his collar. “Ready to go?”

“We’re not going anywhere,” he decided, lust-filled eyes staring into yours before he pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss. 

You kissed back immediately, your hands running through his curls. You probably had a ‘thing’ for his hair. His hands smoothed up the expanse of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. This is what he was, passionate, loving, and a little bit possessive. He radiated heat, his chest against your as he pushed you against the wall, his lips never leaving yours. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips as your hands dipped lower, going directly for his trousers zipper. 

“So are you,” you smiled, kissing him again. His hands found the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it fall to the floor at your feet. You unzipped him then started working on his shirt buttons, both of you forgetting about the party. 

His hands quickly pulled at your bra and underwear, leaving you bare as he stripped himself, thanking his past self for keeping a stock of condoms in your bedside table. He leaned over, quickly grabbing one and opening it with his teeth, sheathing his hard cock as you looked at him under you. He met your glazed eyes, lustfully looking at him, a soft smile on your face. 

You were so beautiful. 

You sank down on him, never quite used to the stretch he provided. “Fuck,” you moaned out. 

His eyes rolled back as you buried him inside of you. His hands gripped your waist, the faint remnants of bruises left from earlier in the week, when he was in this exact position. He pulled your face down to his as you started moving and started kissing up and down your neck between moans. He changed the position slightly, thrusting up into you to reach the gummy spot inside of you that made you scream out for him.

“God,” he groaned. “Fuck… f-fuck.”

You felt so good around him, it was one of his favourite feelings, the absolute euphoria of having your wrapped around him, using him to get yourself off.  

“You’re so good,” you whined breathlessly. “So good.”

Your voice and moans spurred him on, he loved your voice. He loved everything about you. 

“You gonna cum?” He whined, thrusting up into you. You nodded, bouncing on him harder as you began reaching your climax. He felt you tighten around him and he gasped, trying to not cum so quickly. 

“I’m c-cumming,” You groaned in his ear and he was a goner. He cupped your cheek, hap-harzardly kissing you to swallow the scream that was bound to leave his lips. You gripped his hips to still his uncoordinated and subscious thrusts as you both came down from your highs. 

Art still wasn’t done, he needed to taste you. “Let me taste it, please?” He begged, pulling himself out of you. “Please?”

“Art, we’re already late,” you reminded him through your sex-fueled haze. 

“Please, just let me kiss it,” he begged, kissing down your body, his fingers finding your sopping core. You moaned at the contact and nodded, a meek ‘please’ leaving your lips. 

That was all the confirmation Art needed. He latched his lips onto your clit, drawing out moan after moan. His fingers pumped in and out of you slowly, paying special attention to your g-spot. His tongue sucked over your over-sensitive clit and brought you to another two orgasms, not being able to stop himself from humping the bed in his enchanted state. He loved how you tasted, he couldn’t get enough of it, he never wanted to. If he could spend his days between your legs he would. 

After you came for the third time that night, he connected your lips again and smiled at you. “Thank you.”

Your fucked-out face was truly a sight to behold, and he had the pleasure of seeing it whenever he pleased. 

“Come on, we have a party to go to,” He smirked and you whined as he cleaned you up by running three fingers through your soaking core and licking them clean. 

He appreciated the new marks on your neck that he had created as you slowly got up. You dressed yourself in the beautiful dress once again, fixing your hair and makeup, then spraying yourself with some more perfume, attempting to cover the smell of sex. 

As you sat in the passenger seat of his car, he thought about how perfect you were, his hand in yours as he drove you to the party. 

Little did he know that this party would lead to the beginning of the end of your relationship.

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art donaldson masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

Want (Patrick Zweig)

Description: Art wants Patrick’s wife and he knows it.

Warning: A lil smutty

Word Count: 1,042k

It wasn’t a secret that Art thought Y/N was attractive, a lot of people did. She was one of the hottest girls at that party that night with Tashi Duncan. She didn’t play Tennis, she was just Tashi’s best friend. Art didn’t bat an eye at Y/N when Tashi was next to her. He wanted Tashi and so did Patrick. That was until Patrick realized what kind of person Tashi was and how Y/N was. They were complete opposites and it was crazy how they were even friends.

Y/N was nice and sweet and didn’t care about winning or competition. Tashi was the opposite. So when Art saw Patrick with Y/N it hit him hard. What did Patrick do to deserve her? Art wanted her and the life Patrick had. Tashi didn’t love him, she loved Tennis and it stressed him out. He was playing for her and so she was happy not for him. Tashi and Y/N kept in contact unlike Art and Patrick. So Art knew that they were married. It didn’t bug him until he saw her. She was beautiful and she had such a sweet smile. I

t hurt even more to see a baby in her arms that resembled Patrick. Art glared as the two kissed before Patrick came on to the floor. He had a smirk on his face as he saw Art’s face. It was so obvious that Art wanted what he had. Patrick won the game and Y/N cheered for him. Tashi looked pissed at Art and that made his heart sink. Y/N  laughed as Patrick kissed her neck. The crowd cheered for him. 

“How about I give her to my mother and we can have the hotel room to ourselves for the night.” She whispered in his ear, seductively. Art watched the scene waiting for Tashi. “I’d like that.” He said, pulling her closer. “And maybe I can put another one in you.” That made her wet. She couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel room. Art could tell that they were saying dirty things to each other. He wished that he and Tashi had something like that. Patrick noticed his ex best friend staring at his wife. It made him smirk, knowing that he had something that Art wanted. Tashi entered the lobby where the couple and Art were. She saw how Art looked at the couple and knew that it was jealousy.

Not that she cared, she only cared about his Tennis career. It was even crazier that their rooms were next door to each other so Art heard every little moan, whine and gasp that Y/N let out as her and Patrick fucked. He’d give anything to be the reason that Y/N was moaning. Y/N didn’t bat an eye at Art especially like that. She loved Patrick and she always had so why would she think of Art like that? But Art was realizing his mistake. But what could he do about it? “You can’t have her.” Tashi tells him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looks at her with confusion. She rolls her eyes, “Y/N. You can’t have her because she loves Patrick.” Art opened his mouth to shut down her testament but she held her hand up. “I’m not a fucking idiot, Art. I see how you look at her.” She didn’t care that he looked at her like that at all. She completely understood, Y/N was an angel.

But she didn’t want that to distract him and make him lose. Art denied her allegations but she knew he was lying. “Art, I don’t care that you stare. Just don’t lose.” And even though those words were harsh and any sane person would have left her alone in the hotel room, he stayed and begged her to hold him while he slept. 

Y/N laid on Patrick’s chest asleep. But Patrick was wide awake, thinking about Art and how he wanted his wife. Patrick knew that Y/N didn’t care about Art so he honestly found it funny. Hell he even made her scream so Art could hear next door. Art fucked up and he wanted him to know that. Y/N’s face nuzzled into his neck making him laugh as he held her tight. 

Tomorrow they'll be playing in the finals. Patrick had no worries, he was confident and even if he lost, he had a beautiful family that would still love and support him. Art had nothing. If Art lost this game, he’d lose Tashi and that was it for him. Patrick walked into the steam room that Art was in. This would be the first time they exchanged words. It was awkward but Patrick loved that. “Promise me you won’t dominate me?” Art wanted to roll his eyes, he didn’t understand why Patrick was here.

He didn’t like the man at all, but he loved what he had. Jealous of it. “Why are you here, Patrick?” He asked him. “To win.” That answer was obvious and to a dumb question. But Art was searching for more. “When did you start to take a liking to my wife?” Patrick asked him. Art stared at him, no words. Patrick chuckled, “Oh come on. You don’t think I see the way you look at her?” He got closer to Art. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lied. “I don’t blame you. She’s an angel. And my god she smells so good and her pussy tastes fantastic.” He whispered in Art’s ear. “The way she looks when she cums and how her eyes roll back. I get hard just thinking about it. See, my wife loves me and not just for my career. She would love me without it. But Tashi? No, if you lose this you lose it all. So I get why you stare at her. But next time you do it, think of me deep inside her wet pussy pumping her full of my cum over and over again.” Art was hard at his words. Patrick gave him a smirk, “Stare all you want Donaldson but just know, that she’s mine and that’ll never change whether I win or lose.” He says as he walks out of the room, leaving Art there with only his thoughts.

𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

in which your boyfriends attend your world-wide tour, the eras tour!

surprise songs:

daylight — oscar piastri

dress — mason mount

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setlist:

but daddy i love him — charles leclerc

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enjoy!!!

Hey can you write one where the reader has a crush on Mason, but he says he only sees her as a friend, and that he has a crush on the reader's friend. But after y/n moves away from him, he realizes that he was always in love with her too. Please, with a happy ending!!!!

confessing love | mason mount

warnings: fluff, a bit of angst maybe? word count: 3767 notes: I LOVED THIS ONE!! remembering that english is not my first language, this has not been revised!!! i hope you like it :) masterlist | requests are open!

Y/N's camera lens traveled around the pitch during Manchester United's training sessions. And she loved her work as a visual media creator for the club's social networks. Combining her passion for football with her passion for photography was perfect. She was living a long-planned dream. Y/N was trying to get the best angles of the training session led by coach Ten Hag. She laughed a little when she saw Rashford and Casemiro play with the ball through the camera lens. He captured good moments of the two of them until she looked for her next target. That's when her lens passed Mason Mount. Y/N always liked to take pictures of Mason last because when her camera found him, it was hard to take the focus off him. She followed him all over the pitch, looking at him through her hyperfocus lens and taking more photos of him than of any other player. Of course, she knew it was a bit unprofessional, but no one needed to know, since she was the only one operating that camera and on the website and social media, all the players received the same publicity. The ones that remained, she kept in her personal collection.

Mason was running around the pitch, until he received a ball from Shaw, which he took on his chest and sent into the back of the net. Y/N made a point of capturing every moment as he celebrated by smiling, messing with his hair in a cute way and every bit of how his body reacted and the expressions on his face. Until he looked directly at her and realized that the camera was pointing at him. Mason began to make faces that made Y/N laugh as she recorded everything, without missing a beat. The truth was that Y/N was very friendly with all the players, they were nice and good company for going out and doing something fun, and nothing was more than friendship, but she had to admit that she had developed a special bond with Mason. She knew that with him, she didn't just want friendship, it was much more than that. But she felt too cowardly to admit it to him. He came running towards her, and she lowered the camera, finally taking the focus off him. She didn't need a camera to observe Mason Mount when she had him so close. "Too much work today, Y/N?"

"I'm always very busy, Mase." Y/N wiping the camera lens. Ever since she'd discovered her crush on Mason, she'd been a bit awkward around him because she found it hard to look at him and talk to him without looking like a lovesick idiot. A shiver ran through her body when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed with his other hand. "You need a break to relax, you work too much." Y/N was going to ask him what his ideas were for her to relax, but she wasn't so bold. "Today is Maya's birthday." Maya worked in PR at United and was one of her best friends at the club. Working with her was amazing. They always went out together whenever they could. "Oh, I know, she invited me." Mason smiled in a different way, which made a thousand butterflies fly around in Y/N's stomach. "So, I'll see you tonight, right?" She hugged the camera, too nervous to answer and stuttering Y/N just shook her head up and down. Mason left a kiss on her cheek and pulled away when Ten Hag called out to him. Y/N stood there watching Mason walk away for God knows how long, that kiss on the cheek was capable of melting her entire system. She was so caught up that she didn't even notice when Marcus approached.

She could say that Marcus was one of her best friends. He was the first person she had been close to since she started working at the club. She felt she could count on him for anything. "When are you going to tell him?" "What a fright, Rash!" She looked at him unconcerned. "You need to stop this!" "And you need to stop running away from my questions, Y/N." "I don't know what you're talking about…" "Come on, you don't lie to me. You've got a thing for Mase." They both watched Mason from afar. She looked at her friend and rolled her eyes. "How do you know that?" "I know you, honey." He laughed, pinching her nose. "Do you think I don't notice how you spend hours and hours stalking him with that camera?" "Yeah, I have a crush on him, so what?" "So you're really going to leave without exposing your feelings?" Marcus raised an eyebrow and Y/N bit her lip. A few weeks ago, she had received an offer to become a Real Madrid staffer. Moving to Spain wasn't in her plans, but the offer was too good to turn down. Her photos had been successful, and she was getting recognized for her talent, but she still didn't know if she would actually accept. She loved Manchester, she loved United, and she loved the players with whom she was already familiar. To change would be to leave that behind. Leaving Mason behind.

"I haven't decided yet. It's a good opportunity, of course, but…" "I bet having Mason would make you say no to the proposal." "Rash, you don't know what you're talking about." "I'm just suggesting it. I'm going to miss you, and I'd rather you didn't go, but I understand, and I'm advising you, if you go, go without this weight on your back." Rashford winked at her and turned back to the pitch. Y/N took one last look at the two of them before heading to the administration building, she needed to edit those photos and publish them. She knew she had a big decision to make, wondering if her friend Marcus was right. Would Mason be a good reason to make her stay in England?

Later, Y/N was at home getting ready for Maya's party when she received a message from Mason:

mase: do u want me to come and pick u up?

The truth was that Y/N didn't need a ride, but Mason's invitation was impossible to refuse. The minutes she spent in his car in the passenger seat, watching his profile drive through the streets of Manchester, were almost magical. So she quickly replied that yes, she wanted his ride. What she really meant was that she wanted his company at every moment of her life. She finished getting ready in an hour, which was about the time Mason pulled up in front of her house. In the car he seemed very excited about Maya's birthday party and for some reason that was giving Y/N confidence. Maybe Marcus was right, and she should get those feelings out soon before they suffocated her. Maya's birthday was taking place in a fancy hotel and Y/N was enjoying it with her friends, her Manchester United friends and, of course, Mason. He was great company at parties, always daring her to knock back shots of booze or asking her to dance. On the one hand, Y/N loved him, but on the other she felt sad. Every touch he made on her waist or anywhere on her body sent shivers down her spine, and when he looked at her smiling and fiddled with her hair without taking his eyes off her?

She couldn't resist. But the worst part was seeing other girls flirting with Mason when he was with her, and not being able to do anything about it, since Mase wasn't someone she could call her own. So she decided to hide in the bathroom for a while. What was supposed to be five minutes turned into almost thirty, and she decided to go out and look for Marcus. She needed her friend more than anything at that moment, but instead of finding him, she bumped into Mason, who looked five times more altered than the last time she'd seen him. "Mase?" "Y/N! You're gooone!" He said in that slurred, shuffling voice. "What happened to you, Mase? I leave you for a few minutes, and you decide to drink the whole bar?" He moved his mouth laughingly, and she supported him with her shoulders, helping him to walk. Mason in that state meant it was time to go home. She knew the friend she had. "Where are you taking me?"

"To your house." "I'm usually the one who takes the girls there." "Funny." She laughed and pulled him away. They arrived in the parking lot and Y/N guided Mason to where he had parked his thousand-euro car. "The key." She held out her hand, and Mason slipped his hand into the front pocket of his pants without complaint and handed it to her. He wouldn't let just anyone drive his car, but in that state he either obeyed Y/N or he obeyed Y/N. "There. Here we are. You can get to your room on your own, can't you?" she said from outside, in front of Mason's door, who didn't look very well, but well enough to get into his own house. He looked at her worriedly. "How are you going home?" "I'll manage, Mase. I can order an Uber." She shrugged, wanting to get out of there. "Not at all. You can sleep here. I'll drop you home in the morning." He suggested, taking her by the hand and leading her into his house, but Y/N didn't move, letting go of her hand. Mason seemed somewhat loving, but she needed to remind herself that whatever he was doing at that moment, he wasn't in his most sober state. Alcohol could easily manipulate his actions, and she didn't know what was real. "I'm not sleeping at your place."

"Why not?" He frowned at the refusal. Normally, Y/N never said no to him. "You've slept here before." "There were other people along." She said quietly. It was those parties that got a bit out of hand and went on until late, and everyone thought it was safer to spend the night than to drive drunk. "And what's wrong with not having other people?" He asked, moving closer. So close that Y/N could have sworn she felt something in her body fail. It could have been her heartbeat or her breathing. She gave a half-smile, refusing to answer that question. There were all the problems in the world spending the night with a guy she couldn't call her own. It was too much of a disservice to her poor heart. "You look strange." He pointed out, looking right into her eyes. "You were weird the whole party." "I wasn't."

"I know you, Y/N. Yes, you were." Mason took another step forward, holding one of her shoulders. "You don't want to tell me why?" Y/N analyzed for a few seconds, hating that moment. She knew Mason wouldn't stop until he got an answer out of her and that's when she thought of the response she'd gotten from Rashford that morning. So she took a deep breath, making one of the two decisions she needed to make at that point in her life. "This is going to sound really stupid…" "You can tell me anything." "Look…" She looked away, but Mason held her face and his touch felt so good, it brought the best feeling in the world to her heart. "I'll say it straight away, okay?" He warned and Mason nodded, interested. Y/N took one last breath and quickly poured the words over him. "I like you, that's all. I know we're friends and that I shouldn't like you, but I do and I couldn't keep it to myself any longer. I like you. Holy shit! I didn't want to like you, but I do, so what am I going to do? Hell! It's not my fault, I'm not in charge of my heart. Mase, I can't be around you without my heart leaping three hundred times and I need to know what you're thinking right now!"

Mason blinked, a little stunned by the revelation, and felt something bad inside him. The alcohol in his brain wasn't letting him think straight. "Shit…" He muttered softly, letting go of her shoulder. "Y/N…" "What?" she asked, bracing herself for what was perhaps the worst thing she could hear.

"You know I think you're amazing, right? I like you a lot Y/N you, but not like that…" He concluded and the sentence almost made Y/N's world come crashing down. That was definitely not happening. She felt pathetic. "I was actually interested in Maya…" Mason swallowed before saying it and that was the end of the world for Y/N. She could deal with unrequited love, but a relationship between Mason and her best friend? It was too much for her. "Oh my God…" She took a step back, wanting to get out of there and holding back any tears that might fall. "Mason." She whispered and he continued talking as if that wasn't the worst thing he was doing. "I'm really sorry." Y/N couldn't look them in the eye, the street seemed less painful. "We can still be friends after that, right? Nothing have to change…"

She suddenly looked at him, hurt. How could he ask her that after saying he liked her best friend? "I-I…" She stammered. "I don't know if I can go through with this until I'm sure I've gotten rid of all my feelings for you. Bye, Mason." Y/N turned her back on him and walked away as fast as she could. She couldn't do that. Walking away was the best option, until she no longer felt anything, until she saw Mason Mount as just a friend. The problem was that for Y/N it could last a lifetime.

A few days later…

Mason felt strange, he could even say a little unhappy. An unbearable emptiness. Ever since Y/N had left him, he hadn't seen her for a few days. What was that withdrawal? He couldn't even say. He even thought about asking Maya, but he felt like such an idiot after that conversation. He really had an interest in the girl, but after what had happened with Y/N, Mason didn't care, he just wanted to get that feeling out of him. Because his current condition was: he missed a girl with whom he was hopelessly in love. Like almost all of his clubmates, he was always asked what was going on between him and Y/N. Mason always denied any love interest. But it wasn't possible! Could it be that only they didn't see what everyone else saw? Or at least, only he didn't see? Maybe what he felt for Maya was just physical attraction and the person he really liked was Y/N. It had been so long since he had liked anyone and when this person appeared, Mason was terrified.

She was the one who greeted him at the CT with a smile every day and made him laugh with the photos she took of him while he was distracted. It was fun how she would blackmail him with those photos to ask for favors like buying her a milk shake or autographing his shirts. Even though Mason never said no to her, he loved their dynamic. He also liked having her at all his games, cheering him on and giving him a big hug when the game was over. Shit, Mason wanted that back. He wanted Y/N back in his life, he understood her pulling away, but he wasn't going to let it continue.

"Rash, do you know where Y/N is?" He asked Marcus as soon as training was over. "Y/N? She's resigned, Mase." Marcus replied a little sadly, but it had been Y/N's decision and he would respect it. Mason, on the other hand, looked shocked. "What do you mean?" "She received an offer from Real Madrid. Yesterday was her last day. She must be on her way to Madrid…" Marcus looked at his watch on his cell phone. He had managed to say goodbye to Y/N the day before. "Right now." "You can't be serious." "Serious. We've lost the best photographer in the world to a Spanish team." He felt a little guilty. "Do you think…"

"If she went to stay away from you?" Marcus concluded, holding Mason's shoulder. "Don't think too much of yourself, the proposal was very good, but yeah, I think what you said to her may have influenced your final decision." "Damn. I was such an idiot." "Yes, you were." "Do you think I can reverse it?" "If you want to, you can, but please, man, try not to hurt my friend anymore." That hurt, but Mason nodded and understood that it was up to him. Marcus gave him some details, but told him that it might be too late. Y/N was leaving for Madrid at that moment and Mason might have to wait a little longer. Mason found himself defeated for only a few minutes before he realized that if he really wanted her forgiveness, he would have to want it badly and to show it he would have to start right then and there. He left CT like a hurricane in his car and drove as fast as he could to the airport. He wore a hood over his head to avoid being recognized, it would slow him down too much. He looked at the screen and boarding for the next flight to Madrid had already started and Y/N was probably already in the departure lounge. He went to the nearest counter and bought the first ticket he saw. At the counter, while waiting to pay, he thought he was acting out a scene from the clichéd movies Y/N liked, but he couldn't have cared less. Y/N was worth it and if he hadn't been such an idiot, none of this would have been necessary. After passing through the boarding gate, Mason looked as quickly as possible for the flight gate, when he found it he saw the queue forming and Y/N was currently first in line, handing over her documents before getting on the plane.

"Y/N." He shouted so loudly that not only Y/N but most of the people present looked in his direction. She felt someone taking her headphones off and when she looked back she was surprised. "Mason?" The girl went static when she saw him. He came closer and she took the document back and walked over to him. It hurt so much to see him again, but she was curious and a little surprised. "What are you doing here?" "I'm asking you. I can't believe you'd leave without saying goodbye to me." She looked at him a little guiltily. "Besides, you forgot something of yours with me." "What?" "Me." He said quietly, holding her face. At that point, Y/N's brain was going haywire, as if she couldn't imagine that Mason Mount would come to the airport after her to propose. "Answer me this, why did you say that day that you didn't want to like me?" She swallowed. "Why… Because I knew you wouldn't like me back and that would ruin our friendship, like it did." "And how did you know that was true?" Mason arched an eyebrow and Y/N looked around for something to get her out of that situation.

"Well, you told me yourself." "I lied." Mason shrugged his shoulders feeling bad, even worse with the face Y/N was making. "Oh, you lied? Lied that you were interested in my best friend? What did you want with that? To make me feel bad?" Y/N took a deep breath because at that moment she was starting to get angry. "That hurt me so much, you have no idea, and now you come here after me thinking I'm going to be with you whenever you want, Mason?" She finished saying it and took a step back, at which point Mason realized that things were getting very bad for him. He approached her holding her hands, willing to make things right with Y/N. "I'm not proud of it, it's just that I was a bit terrified Y/N. I haven't liked anyone like that for a long time and I loved our friendship, but I didn't even know how much I liked you." He confessed and Y/N had to admit that it shook something inside her. "I found myself smiling for no reason until I realized that I was thinking of you. And that I couldn't waste another day of my life without you. Please give me another chance!" Y/N hesitated. This was difficult because on the one hand she was very hurt, but on the other, the fact that Mason Mount had come up to her in an airport and declared himself like that was all she had ever wanted.

"But what about Maya?" "I have nothing to do with Maya, I never have, and I don't want to. Please understand that." Y/N hesitated for a moment, looking at Mason for sincerity. She sighed, allowing herself to consider the possibility of a second chance. "Mason, it's not easy to forget what happened, but…" She looked into his eyes. "If you've really changed, if you're willing to be honest this time, then maybe we can try again." Mason let out a relieved sigh, his eyes shining with gratitude. "I promise, Y/N, no lies. I want to be more than a friend to you, I want to be someone you can trust." Y/N smiled, giving in to the moment. "All right, Mason. Let's start again, but this time, no secrets. Bring out your true feelings from the start." Mason agreed, determined to make things right. "I'd like that. And I promise I'll make up for any hurt I've caused." The two hugged, deciding to put the past behind them. "So, what's the next step?" Y/N asked, trying to keep things light. Mason smiled. "A date, maybe? Something simple, just to get us started."

Y/N laughed. "That sounds good. But this time, no made-up love triangles, right?" Mason laughed along with her. "Absolutely. Just the two of us, no complications, but…." "What?" "Let me kiss you now? I didn't want to wait until the date." Y/N laughed along with him, letting herself go and kissing Mason as she had always dreamed. And so, with laughter and a promise of honesty, Mason and Y/N took the first step towards a new beginning, redefining not just their friendship, but building something more meaningful and true.

Cheater (Art Donaldson/Patrick Zweig)

Description: Patrick cheats on Y/N and Tashi cheats on Art.

Warning: Cheating, Implied Smut

Word Count:908

“She’s into Art, and I’m into you. You have nothing to worry about.” 10 years ago, Patrick said those words to Y/N and she believed them. She believed them so much, she let him put a ring on her finger and marry her. That was a big mistake, a mistake that would cost her the next 10 years. She loved Patrick, oh how she loved him. But from the beginning there was something off. She couldn’t tell what it was but once she saw Tashi Duncan it all hit her. Patrick would tell her that he wasn’t into her and that Art was. Art was head over heels for Tashi but that didn’t mean that Patrick wasn’t. Patrick was a player, a womanizer that got away with a lot. He was good looking and he knew that so he used it to his advantage.

Him and Tashi had something that wasn’t love but truth be told Tashi didn’t love anyone. She loved Tennis. So when Patrick was playing in a challengers and saw that Art was there ,he knew Tashi was too. Art saw Y/N with Patrick and couldn’t believe that they were still together. Y/N was a smart woman, what the fuck was she doing with him? Tashi wanted no needed Art to win so she was going to do what she had to do to make it work. Y/N had this sick feeling in her stomach when she saw Tashi and Art. It had been so many years but yet it felt like it was just yesterday. In the steam room Patrick revealed to Art the one thing that he could use against him. Him fucking Tashi while being married to Y/N.

Art wanted to punch him and scream at him. “Yeah when we were teenagers, sure. Or Atlanta.” Art remembers that day that he saw Patrick and Tashi talking. He felt uneasy about it but Tashi told him that they just talked. Patrick just revealed that they fucked. “Y/N, You would do that to her?” Art asked him. “I didn’t want to. It was a mistake. I love Y/N.” Lies, he did want to. “Y/N doesn’t know, does she? Patrick shook his head. “I told myself I would never tell her. I can’t lose her man. I didn’t even expect to tell you but it just came out.” Art was mad, his wife fucked his ex best friend. Who wouldn’t be? He had to find Y/N and tell her. Get her away from Patrick just for a second. Y/N was always with Patrick and the one time she wasn’t he fucked Tashi. Art wasn’t aware of it and nor was Y/N. That was until he came home smelling like another woman.

She put two and two together and pretended to still be asleep. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes but she couldn’t. One day before the final Art had gotten Y/N alone. “I know Art. I know about him cheating with Tashi.” “You know about Atlanta?” Confusion took over her face. “What?” She whispered. “Atlanta, that's when he cheated on you.” She shook her head, “Art.” “What were you talking about?” He asked her. “Last night.” He thought back to when Tashi wasn’t there and he slept with their daughter. “How do you know this?” “He came home smelling like another woman and I've always speculated that he was into her and she’s here so…” He looked at the ground for a solid minute. Neither of them said anything. Atlanta and last night. Patrick cheated on her twice. Tashi cheated on him twice. She looked at Art. “I think we’ve both been played.” She said, he nodded and looked up at her. “For the past 12 years.” Y/N didn’t know how it started but when it ended she felt relief.

She stared up at Art as he stopped thrusting. Both of them breathing heavy and looked fucked out. She had never viewed Art like that until now. “Should we tell them?” Oh he did and only Patrick would get it. It was Patrick’s turn to serve and he kept taking too long. But with the 3 bounces of the tennis ball and him putting the ball up to the center of the racket, Art knew what he was talking about. Art faked being shocked and upset at that. The crowd was confused as was Tashi and Y/N. Patrick got a point and when it was Art’s turn to serve, he did the same thing.

Patrick’s face dropped when he realized that Art meant he slept with Y/N and not Tashi. Patrick looked over at Y/N who looked at him. He looked back at Art and Art hit the ball, in shock Patrick didn’t hit the ball back. The crowd went wild as Art Donaldson won the match. Tashi was so happy but Art didn’t care. He stared at Patrick as Patrick froze. Y/N left the court without looking at Patrick, leaving him there. She got back to the hotel in time to gather her stuff to leave. She placed her wedding ring on the table next to the bed. No note or anything. It appears that whatever the signal was from the racket and ball they did gave away what happened. As she was leaving the hotel room she saw Art. She smiled at him and he smiled at her. Maybe this would bring them closer, maybe they were meant to be all along. 

Something In The Way You Move

Author’s note: I hope you enjoy reading my first ever one-shot. I got the idea for this after listening to the Ellie Goulding song with the same title. I’m not exactly sure how I would categorise this fanfic, but that’s alright. This is only for fictional purposes only, and please don’t copy my work without my permission. Enjoy 🤎

Warnings: bad language, toxic relationship, flirty men at the bar, mentions of bruises, cheating, implied smut, fluff, angst, relationship issues, minors DNI (let me know if I missed anything)

famous!Reader x Jude Bellingham Word count: 8k words

///

‘“Y/N Y/L/N is the most famous woman in football.”’ Winnie dramatically turns towards you, eyes comically wide, her grip firm on the copy of the British Vogue magazine in her grasp. ‘Bestie, did you hear that? According to this article, you’re the most famous woman in football.’

You chuckle. ‘Yeah, apparently I am.’

‘How are you so calm right now?’

You’re anything but calm, you’ve just mastered the art of concealing your emotions—it’s a skill you developed shortly after meeting Jude. ‘I don’t know. I guess it’s the shock, it still hasn’t sunk in yet.’ 

‘It’s definitely the shock, not that I blame you,’ her eyes flit back to the article. ‘This is insane.’

‘In a good way, I hope.’ 

‘Very good way.’ You watch as she takes in the words of the article. ‘Girl, you’re in Vogue. Like, on the cover! They, like, wrote a whole article about you.’

‘God, sometimes I forget how dramatic you can be, Wins.’ 

Her theatrics are what first drew you to her. Never in your life had you come across someone like Winnie, and now you consider her one of your best friends. The two of you met at a fashion show a year ago, and well, the rest is history. . . 

‘Dramatic? How is this dramatic? This is a big deal, Y/N,’ she shuts the magazine, using her fingers as a makeshift bookmark to save her spot, then sits it on her lap. ‘When you told me you were doing a shoot for Vogue, I didn’t think you meant a cover shoot. Why didn’t you tell me?’ 

Because the whole thing was surreal, ‘cause I didn’t actually think they’d put me on the cover, the thoughts go through your mind.

‘I guess it slipped my mind,’ you state nonchalantly because that sounds better than the self-deprecating thoughts. 

Your cool exterior makes you seem indifferent about the whole thing, but you truly are flattered and overwhelmed. Never in a million years did you think you’d be on the cover of Vogue, and yet here you are. 

‘“I guess it slipped my mind,”’ she mocks with a hearty laugh. ‘Seriously though, I’m so proud of you. And if we weren’t sitting in this car right now, I’d give you the biggest hug.’ 

‘Thank you, Wins, and I know you would.’

You’re in the back of a black Mercedes Sprinter, there is a Netflix crew with their cameras filming you, and you’re being driven to Wembley Stadium where you will watch your boyfriend’s team play a Champions League final. 

The cameras are there because you’re in the midst of shooting an episode for season one of your yet to be named Netflix reality show. It’s been a month of filming scenes with the crew, but you still feel self-conscious having such intimate conversations with cameras present.

Who’s idea was it to give you a Netflix show anyway?

‘Shall I read it to you, then?’

‘Uh, no. No no no.’  

‘Oh, come on. Why not?’

You squirm in your seat and feel your face heat up, ‘Uh, I don’t know, ‘cause it’s awkward.’

It was a hundred percent your idea to stop at the shops to have yourself filmed buying the magazine, you know, for content for the show, but now it feels so silly, almost like you were bragging or something. To have Winnie read the article to you will only make the embarrassed feeling worse. 

‘Why is it awkward?’

You discreetly point a finger towards the camera. 

‘The cameras?’

‘Shh!’ you want the seats to part and swallow you up. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘But this will make great content for the show.’

‘Oh god.’

Winnie laughs hard, she’s clearly entertained by all that is happening. ‘Are you shy?’

‘You know this about me.’ 

She laughs harder. 

‘I’m glad you’re enjoying this.’ 

Not to be that person, but Winnie doesn’t get it. You can almost predict how the internet at large will react to the footage, should Netflix decide to use it for the show. It’s not beneath the world, namely those wretched online gossip rags, to paint you as some self-involved individual who makes her friends read magazine articles that praise her successes. 

Hell, just this morning you made the mistake of reading the comments of a MailOnline article about your recent night out in Madrid. You had been out for dinner with your manager and his wife, and it was your standard MailOnline article—though they were uncharacteristically nice to you—nothing out of the ordinary, so you felt it was safe to venture into the comments. 

Big mistake, and it’s safe to say that in future, you’ll steer clear of the comments section of anything. 

‘Last chance, are you sure you don’t want me to read it?’

‘I’m begging you not to.’

‘Very well,’ she lifts the magazine back up from her lap, her finger bookmark helping her open to the exact page of the article. ‘I’ll just read it for myself.’

‘Let me know if it’s any good.’

She scoffs, ‘Whatever.’ 

With a wry wink, you blindly reach for your phone that’s seated comfortably on your lap and open the Instagram app to update your story. The hope is that this will distract you from your fretful thoughts. 

Again, on the exterior, you’re as cool as a cucumber, but inside, you’re tightly wound. It sounds like an exaggeration, but so much is counting on Real Madrid winning tonight’s match, so you’re praying for their triumph. 

Will it fix the many issues that riddle your life? No, but a win could mean a less tense Jude, and it could take him out of the foetid mood he’s been in lately.

To be fair, the moodiness is not only exclusive to Jude, but you know.  

‘Gosh, I really hope they win tonight.’

The words slip out your mouth before you can stop them.

‘Huh?’

‘Real Madrid,’ you turn to Winnie, who’s engrossed in the words on the page, ‘I really hope they win tonight.’

She looks up from the magazine, and with a kind smile assures you, ‘Don’t worry, they will.’

She’s so optimistic, so sure, and that’s the attitude you will carry with you through this final.

///

It wasn’t easy, but in the end they came together as a team, and Real Madrid won the Champions League. 

The hours that followed the victory were nothing short of chaotic. First there was the team’s celebration on the field, where they received their trophy and medals. Of all the events of the day,  that’s the bit you hated the most. So much was happening all at once, which overwhelmed you and made you unpleasant, and of course, that led to an argument between you and Jude. 

///

A couple hours earlier. 

‘What the actual fuck is wrong with you?’

And more importantly, what the fuck is wrong with you for still putting up with Jude’s shit? You don’t even know how it got to this point. One minute you were teasing each other and making light conversation on the bed of your hotel suite, and the next you were bickering. But that’s how it is with you and Jude lately, there’s no middle ground. 

‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’ he challenges. 

‘Yeah, did I stutter? What the fuck is wrong with you?’ you press, refusing to back down. Usually, he can intimidate you into submission with a harsh look and tone, but not tonight. ‘Seriously, Jude, you’re not even fun to be around anymore.’ 

‘That’s rich coming from you,’ he spits back. 

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘As if you don’t know.’

‘I wouldn’t be asking you if I did, would I?’ 

The fucking prick, and if it were any other day, you’d tell him that he’s a prick, but that would only prolong the fight, and you both still have to get ready for dinner in an hour. 

‘Why are we even having this argument?’

‘You tell me, you started it,’ he throws the accusation so carelessly. 

‘How is any of this my fault?’

‘You’re so childish all the time,’ he answers without faltering, ‘always acting up in front of a crowd.’

‘You bastard!’

‘Then when I call you out for it, you start hurling insults at me,’ he finishes, a smug expression on his face. 

You hate it when he gets this way, so vindictive and purposeful in his aim to hurt you. ‘You’re such a fucking prick!’

‘Case in point. . .’ 

And you think you might cry, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you teary over him. 

‘That’s it, I don’t want to go anywhere with you tonight,’ you announce after a stretched silence. 

‘Like hell you’re not.’

Your eyebrows come together in a frown so deep, it’s sure to leave lines in its wake. ‘You can’t force me to go with you.’

‘Stop it.’

‘Stop what?’

‘Stop being childish.’

‘How am I being childish?’ With an incredulous scoff, you tell him, ‘You know, there’s something seriously wrong with you. I think that you need to get your head checked.’ 

‘What?’

‘You’re. Insane. There’s something wrong with you, in your head.’ There’s nothing normal about his recent behaviour. ‘If you think I’m going out with you tonight after you’ve disrespected me, you’ve got something–’

‘We’re not doing this shit.’

‘“This shit”? What does that even mean?’

‘I’m not doing this shit with you. What’s this even about?’

‘It’s about you not respecting me.’

‘That’s bullshit, and you know it’s bullshit,’ he responds dismissively. ‘What have I said or done to disrespect you? I only asked why you were frowning on the field.’

‘And I told you that I wasn’t.’

‘You forget that you’re a bad liar.’

‘I am not lying!’ 

‘Keep your fucking voice down!’ he yells right back at you, and his voice is like a whip. 

That’s when the tears spring to your eyes. You know you said you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, but it’s all too much. 

‘Oh, don’t cry.’

‘How can I not when you’re being so cruel?’

Jude’s livid now, nostrils flaring livid. You should shut up, but you can’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth. It’s like a tap that won’t shut. 

‘And, it’s like,’ sniff, sniff ‘like you enjoy seeing me upset. And I just feel like everything I do sets you off lately, and I don’t know what to do anymore.’ 

The tears are freely falling now, and you don’t bother to wipe them away. You want him to feel guilty for the way he spoke to you. 

‘Why do you hate me so much?’

‘Baby, I don’t hate you. How could you even ask that?’

When he reaches out to take your hand, you move it away from him. ‘Don’t.’

‘I’m trying to bridge the gap. I’m trying to comfort you.’

‘I don’t need your comfort,’ you sound so sad, and maybe that’s because you are really sad. 

You can’t believe the current state of your relationship, and you can’t, for the life of you, understand how it got to this point. You and Jude loved each other, you still love each other. . . Well, you still love him, you’re not so sure of his feelings. 

‘And can we drop this, please? I promise I’m not trying to get out of talking about it, but’ sniff ‘just for now, until after dinner.’

/// 

So you both agreed to a temporary truce, but things are still awkward between you. For example, the ride to the restaurant was silent, Jude barely acknowledged you at dinner, and now he’s somewhere in the restaurant socialising, and you’ve been left to your own devices. 

It’s not all bad though, because you’re not completely alone, you have the other WAGs to keep you company. 

‘How’s your cocktail?’

You wish Winnie had come though, she would make it better, more bearable. You tried to beg and bribe, desperate for her to meet you here, but she’s stubborn and she wasn’t in the mood. ‘A night wasted with cunty football WAGs? I don’t think so.’ Her words, not yours. 

‘Good. It’s a bit too sweet for my liking though.’

‘Same,’ Coralie chuckles. 

You’re jonesing for something stronger, a shot of something, but you’re already tipsy after opting out of dinner—your excuse was that you weren’t feeling well—so rather you stick to the sugary beverage. 

The group of you are at some swanky restaurant in Mayfair, and you’re doing your best to be sociable, but it’s hard to do when all you want to do is burst out crying. 

‘How do you plan on celebrating tonight?’

You shrug your shoulders, ‘I thought this was the celebration.’

‘With the team, yes, but how do you plan to celebrate with Jude?’

‘He has to be up early tomorrow morning.’ 

Coralie rolls her eyes.

‘You don’t like that answer?’

‘It’s boring, is all.’ 

And because you don’t know how to respond to that, you take a sip of your cocktail. 

‘You look tired,’ she continues.

You guess she just wants to fill the silence?

More like over it. It turns out, you’re not so great at concealing your emotions. ‘Exhausted. It’s been a long day.’

‘Filming a reality show is exhausting, huh?’ Coralie chaffs. She leans in towards you, probably to prevent someone from eavesdropping on your conversation. ‘I need all the details.’

Coralie’s sudden shift in topic catches you off guard. This whole exchange is not really going the way you want it to go, but you’re playing along because you really don’t want to sit alone. 

‘Uh, the details?’

‘All of it.’ 

Unlike everyone else at this table, Coralie isn’t a WAG. She’s employed by the team, and her job’s to be sort of an assistant to the players. When you moved to Spain at the start of the season, Coralie was actually one of the first people you were introduced to, and she was instrumental in helping you and Jude find your apartment. 

 ‘Where to start?’ When you draw a blank, you inquire, ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Hm, how did the opportunity come about?’ she turns in her seat so she’s fully facing you now. ‘How long have you been filming? What is the show about? I want to know it all.’ 

The reality show is the last thing you want to be talking about, but fuck it. You’ve been internally spiralling all night thinking about your fight with Jude, and this will give you something else to focus on for a bit. Without giving too much away, you skim over your agreement with the streaming platform, how they approached you with the offer, and the basic premise of the show. 

‘And it’s not weird for you to have the cameras following you around?’

‘I mean’ you finish the remainder of your cocktail and place the glass back onto the table ‘it’s not like we’re filming every day. There’s, like, a schedule.’

‘And how does that work?’

You do your best to explain the schedule and how it’s set up, but you’re past the point of tipsy, slightly over it, and quite frankly, you want the conversation to be over. 

Truth be told, you still can’t believe that someone at Netflix looked at you and your life and thought you were interesting enough to give a reality show to. Not that you’re complaining, the exposure and paycheque totally make it worth it. 

‘And how does Jude feel about it?’

Coralie’s question comes as no surprise. She’s got this little crush on Jude, but it’s harmless, endearing even. 

‘I don’t know.’

‘He doesn’t talk about it?’

‘I mean, we have talked about it, just not in great detail.’ You can hear the defensiveness in your tone. ‘We don’t talk much about work.’

‘But this affects him,’ she presses on, clearly not satisfied with your response. ‘Or will he not be on the show?’ 

‘He will be.’

You’re not entirely sure where she’s going with these questions.

‘He just doesn’t have an opinion on it?’

‘Well, I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him.’

Of course this is a lie. After your manager had reached out to you about the offer, Jude was the first person you called because you value his opinion. 

You weren’t sure you could commit to filming six episodes for the season, and you felt like having the crew and cameras around would feel like an invasion of your personal space. 

Jude felt differently and was encouraging.

‘This could be good for your career,’ he had advised. 

He’s even filmed some scenes for the show. 

‘So you’re like Kim Kardashian now,’ Coralie teases. 

‘Jude said the same thing,’ you smile at the memory. 

‘Well, I’ve got an idea for the finale.’

You cock your head to one side, ‘You do?’ 

She nods, a wide smile taking over her beautiful face, ‘I do. Picture this: you’re on vacation, I’ll let you pick the location, and Jude proposes to you.’ 

Oh you’re not drunk enough for this. And the crazy part is that she seems so delighted with herself—proud even. 

‘What do you think?’

‘No.’ 

‘What? Why?’ 

‘No, absolutely not.’ You feel yourself getting worked up. You’re so moody these days, and it’s not hormonal.

‘At least think about it.’

‘Coralie, no.’ 

‘Okay, okay.’ And you think she might drop it, but she continues to ask, ‘Which part don’t you like?’

All of it. In fact, you don’t want to be having this conversation anymore. But you don’t want to be impolite, so you force a smile as you tell her, ‘Right now, marriage isn’t on the cards for us.’

With her hands held up defensively, Coralie clarifies, ‘It was just a suggestion.’

‘And I appreciate it.’ 

Well, this is a shitfest. Winnie, Winnie, Winnie, you think, I should’ve pushed harder. 

There’s no use in dwelling on the fact, and there’s no use in staying at this table. But if you leave abruptly, Coralie might take it the wrong way. 

‘I need a refill, want to come?’

She points to her still full cocktail glass, ‘I’m still good.’

‘Okie-dokie,’ you raise off of your chair. ‘I’ll see you in a bit.’

Coralie’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes, it seems the annoyance is mutual. You just wish the night was over and you were back at the suite. Part of you wishes you’d bump into Jude, not because you have anything to say to him, but you sort of miss his face. 

‘Get a grip,’ you mumble to yourself as you manoeuvre through the tables. 

You’re miserable, more than usual, and it’s affecting the way you’re interacting with people. Already Coralie thinks you’re a bitch. She didn’t say anything to you, but she didn’t have to, it was written all over her face. And on a different day, the guilt would gnaw at you, but tonight you can’t bring yourself to care. 

‘A vodka tonic, please.’

At least your manners are still intact. 

‘More vodka than tonic.’ 

So you’ll drink in hopes that it will help the time pass quicker, and maybe if he sees your tragic state, Jude might let you go back to the hotel. After tearing into you, of course. 

As if the sadistic fuck would let me leave. 

Knowing Jude, he’d force you to stay but he’d be pissed at the fact that you weren’t on your best behaviour. 

The last time, he called you ‘inconsiderate’. And maybe it’s true, maybe you are ‘inconsiderate’, but he’s no better. Hell, he’s worse, but you can never tell him that. In his heart and in his mind, he is a saint—you just bring out the worst in him. 

‘Thanks.’ 

The tumbler is cold in your hand as you raise it to take the first sip. You wince at the bitter taste of vodka, but it’s just what you need, and you feel some of the tension leave your body. You think you might stay here a while. 

It’s peaceful at the bar. There’s no Coralie and her unsolicited suggestions, there’s no sulking Jude. . . though you’d much rather have him sulking at you than the cold shoulder, at least then he’s showing some emotion. 

‘Penny for your thoughts?’

But then there are the men who think it’s okay to approach you. 

‘I’m John, by the way.’ 

John flashes you a bright smile, and you can’t help but notice his super white and super perfect set of teeth. 

‘John, cool.’

‘And you are?’

Bored. Annoyed. Over this interaction. ‘Do I have to tell you?’

‘It’d be nice, yes.’ He then looks at you, really looks at you, then very thoughtfully, he says, ‘You know, you look familiar.’ 

‘I do?’

‘Yeah, I feel like I know you. . . or I’ve seen you somewhere.’

‘You don’t know me.’

‘No, I think I do,’ he waves for the barman’s attention. ‘I think you’re famous.’

‘Well, you’re wrong.’ 

When the barman comes over, John orders himself a scotch. ‘You know, you still haven’t told me your name.’ 

And so, despite your better judgement, you tell him which sparks a conversation. Of course, he’s a ‘finance bro’—his overconfidence is a dead giveaway—and he’s at the restaurant for his uni pal’s bachelor party. There’s a group of them. 

Without being too obvious, your eyes look down at his left hand, which is conveniently hidden away. Your guess is that John’s got a wife at home, and he’s been allowed out for the night, begrudgingly, of course, so he’s trying his luck with you. 

‘Well, since it’s a bachelor party, shouldn’t you be at a gentlemen’s club?’

He shakes his head, ‘Isaac’s not into that.’

‘Isaac is the groom, then?’

‘Yeah.’ 

‘Well, I’m sure Isaac and your friends are missing you, John,’ you raise your glass to your lips. ‘But thanks for the chat.’ 

Your dismissive tone only spurs him on, you literally see his eyes light up. Clearly, he sees you as a challenge, something to conquer. ‘How about you? Are you here alone, with friends?’

You polish off the remainder of your drink, ‘Something like that.’

‘That’s all you have to say?’

‘Well, I–’ Your body tenses when you feel a strong arm snake around your waist, but it immediately relaxes when you smell the all too familiar scent of Jude’s cologne. 

‘I’ve been looking all over for you,’ he says, strategically wedging himself between you and John, his back turned to him. ‘Hi.’

Jude leans over to take your lips in a deep kiss, you know, the kind that you feel deep in your core. God, you love this man.

‘Hi.’ 

You don’t have to force a smile, because you’re genuinely pleased to see him, and at first you can’t read his expression as his perfect brown eyes search your own, but then he smiles, really smiles, which causes you to relax. 

‘Vodka tonic?’ you offer.

‘No,’ he leans over to kiss you again, this time it’s on your forehead. ‘Is that what you’re having?’

‘Yeah,’ you raise a hand to wave the barman over. 

‘What are you doing?’

‘Ordering myself another drink.’

‘No, you’re not.’ 

The tone of his voice is one you know all too well. You know not to push him, you don’t want to push him, ‘cause things between you are actually good.

‘I’m not?’ your tone is teasing.

‘No, you’re not. Come.’ 

Before you can question where he’s taking you, he leads you away from the bar, and you don’t even get the chance to say goodbye to John. 

‘Jude, that’s rude,’ you tell him, suppressing the urge to smile. ‘And where are you taking me?’

‘Back to the hotel.’

Finally, ‘The hotel?’ 

‘Yeah, we’ve had enough socialising for the night.’ 

///

You release a content sigh. ‘You know,’ you start nonchalantly as you leisurely stretch your limbs and flex your toes, ‘I should flirt with random guys at the bar more often.’

Keeping your hands off of each other on the car ride back to the hotel proved quite the struggle. Jude’s earlier possessiveness had you putty in his hands, and his actions, paired with the alcohol in your system, had you ready to jump his bones. 

‘Don’t you dare,’ he playfully admonishes. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

‘I might be inclined to, I like it when you get like that.’

‘Like how?’

‘Possessive and all that,’ your heart swells with pride at the memory of Jude moving you away from John.

‘Oh god.’

You burst into fits of obnoxious giggles when he buries his face in the crook of your neck and starts kissing the area. 

You and Jude had managed to behave yourself in the car and on the elevator ride up to your floor, but the moment you stepped into your suite, he took your wrist into his large hand and tugged you into him. Without a word, he pushed you up against the wall of the dark entrance hall, and took your lips in an impassioned kiss. 

‘Jude, stop!’ you screech. 

‘Promise you won’t flirt with random men.’

‘No!’ 

The kisses intensify, his beard tickling the sensitive skin. 

‘I swear I’ll scream,’ you actually can’t breathe, and your stomach hurts like you’ve been doing crunches. ‘Babe, please!’

‘Promise me.’

‘Okay, okay! I promise,’ you relent. 

And so he stops. 

‘If we get a noise complaint. . .’ 

‘Who cares?’ Jude rolls back to his previous position on the bed, his back pressed against the mattress, his toned torso exposed. 

Instinctively, you follow him, curling into his side, craving the connection. ‘You don’t care?’

He shakes his head, ‘No, do you?’

‘I guess I don’t.’ All you care about is the fact that things between you and Jude are good again, and all is right in your world. ‘I’m hungry.’

‘You are?’

‘Ravenous.’ On cue, your stomach starts to grumble. ‘I’m thinking of having a burger and–’

‘What’s this?’ Jude’s hand moves down to your left hip bone, and his index finger lightly traces over the bruise that’s starting to form. ‘You’re hurt.’

The forming bruise is the result of you being pressed against the entry table as Jude fucked you. 

‘Oh that?’ you weave your fingers with his to stop their tracing motion. ‘Don’t worry about that, I honestly don’t mind it.’ But when his eyes remain fixed on the spot, you insist, ‘Babe, please don’t make a big deal of it. It was good.’

Like, really good. So good, Jude had to put his hand over your mouth just to stop the wanton moans that were spilling profusely from your lips. 

The heat creeps to your cheeks at the very welcomed memory. ‘And by the way, don’t act like you’re not pleased with yourself.’

He doesn’t try to deny it, he simply laughs. 

‘Exactly,’ you rest your head on his chest and focus on the calming steady beat of his heart. You wish you could stay like this with him forever, and abandon all your responsibilities.

‘I love you.’

Jude’s admission catches you off guard. It’s not his first time saying those words to you, he’s said them countless times in the past, but there’s something about the way he says them now. . . it’s so heartfelt. 

‘And look, I know I’ve been a jerk these past few months,’ he continues before you can say anything, ‘but starting tonight, I promise to be better.’

His words, so vulnerable and pure, leave you stunned.

You blink away the tears that are starting to collect in your eyes, ‘Jude. . .’

‘You don’t have to say anything.’

You drape your arm over his torso, and release a shaky breath. ‘I love you too.’

There’s so much you want to add to that, but you don’t trust yourself to not break down in tears. Recently, your relationship has been put through the wringer, and you admit that you’ve still got a long way to go in terms of repairing it, but this moment is proof that it’s still salvageable. 

After a long and comfortable silence, Jude asks, ‘You still hungry?’

‘Mmm.’

‘Here,’ he hands you the in-room dining menu.

You thank him and start scanning the menu’s offerings. ‘The skinny fries sound good.’

‘I thought you said you were ravenous.’

‘Hold on, I’m not done.’ 

Five minutes later, your main and a side with dessert, were on their way. 

‘And now we shower.’ 

You let out an obnoxious groan. 

‘What?’

‘I don’t want to move from here.’

Jude laughs, ‘Sure you do. Come on, Lazybum.’

‘Lazybum?’

He laughs some more. ‘Yeah, Lazybum. Let’s go.’

Nothing against the shower or anything, but you’re worn out and are too hungry to move. ‘Five more minutes.’

‘No, let’s go.’

You raise your head off his chest, and your eyes lock with his, ‘I can’t persuade you to stay in bed longer?’

‘No, not really.’

‘Oh, babe,’ you whine, and move to straddle him. ‘You’re no fun.’

‘I’m no fun? What do you mean I’m no. . .’ The words sort of fade from his lips when you start writhing against  him, the only thing separating you is the bedsheet.  ‘Stop that.’

‘Stop what?’ you feign innocence, your hip gyrations not ceasing. 

‘What you’re doing right now,’ his hands move to your hips to stop their subtle winding motion. ‘It’s distracting.’

You sigh. 

‘And stop pouting.’

‘Make me.’ 

Jude’s eyes light up at your testy attitude. Then he sits up, and with his hands on either side of your face, he pulls you in for a peck. ‘Behave.’ 

‘Yeah, but babe, I–’

‘Hey,’ swiftly and smoothly, his hand grabs a hold of your wrist and starts massaging the spot just past your palm, and he maintains eye contact when he tells you, ‘We’ll shower, then we can lay in bed after.’

‘Okay.’ 

‘Okay?’

You nod, ‘Yeah, okay.’

Your cooperation earns you a second peck.

‘But babe, can we watch a movie after? My choice.’

Despite having to be up early tomorrow to fly back to Madrid, Jude agrees. A post-midnight dinner with a movie and cuddles from Jude, you like the sound of that. You can’t help but stare at Jude’s pert ass when he gets out of the bed—the guy’s got a hot body. 

‘You like what you see?’

You flush, but make no effort to turn away. If he’s going to give you a show, who are you to look away? ‘Shut up.’ 

‘Pervert.’

‘You’re the one slutting yourself out.’

‘Whatever.’

Then with a final kiss, Jude disappears into the bathroom. Some moments pass, and then you hear the shower water run.

You’re scrolling through Netflix’s romance category when you’re interrupted by the incessant buzzing of a phone. Your initial thought is that it’s your manager—who never seems to sleep—calling about a new work opportunity, but when you grab the vibrating device, you discover that it’s Jude’s phone and not yours. And it’s Coralie calling him. 

You think nothing of the fact that she’s calling Jude at such a late hour. It’s probably something work related that can’t wait till morning, and you’re about to answer the call when the vibrating abruptly stops. That’s when you see the text notification displayed on Jude’s lock screen:

Coralie: I’m drunk and I miss you, call me

Heh? 

Your heart starts hammering against your ribcage and a sick feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. 

What? 

The room starts to spin as you struggle to breathe, and you think you might collapse onto the bed.

Is he. . . Surely he’s not cheating on you. With Coralie? 

‘Babe?’ Jude's voice calls from the bathroom, startling you and causing you to almost drop his phone. 

‘I’m coming,’ you absentmindedly respond back. 

‘Hurry.’ 

The cheek, you think as you punch in his phone’s password. 

The phone unlocks and you think what an idiot he must be—a smart cheater would change the password. 

‘Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.’

You have a very limited time window, so you’ve got to move quickly. The adrenaline rush makes your fingers fumbley and shaky, but you somehow manage to open the WhatsApp app. Coralie’s chat is right at the top ‘cause she was the last one to text him.

If you had more time, you’d peruse through his other contacts to see if he’s texting other girls. 

‘Here goes nothing,’ you tell yourself.

Then with a deep inhale through your nose, you psych yourself up one last time for what’s to come when you open the chat, and then you open it.

Before the bit about being drunk and missing Jude—drunk texts? How corny—Coralie had sent another lengthy text complimenting the way he looked at dinner tonight, and explicitly told him what she wanted to do to him in the restaurant’s loo. 

The fucking bitch! 

How dare she? How dare she act friendly with you knowing very well that she was sending dirty texts to your boyfriend behind your back? And the worst part is that you believed the friendly act, believed that she had good intentions.

Rah! 

But there’s no time to get hung up on that, there’s plenty of time to do that later. Moving quickly, you scroll up the chat and stop at a random spot. 

Jude: Y/N’s in Paris, come over?

You recognise the date to be earlier in the year, when you were in Paris for fittings and shoots. He’d called you really late that night, and he’d told you that he loved and missed you, and that he wished you were at the apartment with him. Basically, he’d lied to you because Coralie was warming his bed that night.

Fuck them both! 

The text thread carries on in a similar fashion: Coralie texts Jude saying that she misses him, he texts her when you’re out of town, and sometimes, on special occasions, she’d send a dirty pic. Or if she’s feeling particularly giving, a video. 

Fuck. 

You angrily toss the phone to one side, and try to contemplate your next move, but your mind is all over the place, and you can barely formulate a cohesive thought. 

What now? 

‘I got tired of waiting for you, and got out.’

You were so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the shower water shut.

‘Hm?’

‘In the shower, I waited for you.’

You don’t like the way Jude says that statement, the accusation in his tone. 

‘I’m. . .’ what is it that you’re trying to say? ‘Oh.’ 

‘Are you okay?’

Far from it, actually. ‘Hey, are you. . .’ you pause to think about how you want to phrase the question. ‘Are you cheating on me?’

He didn’t expect you to ask him that question, and he seems taken aback by it—shaken even. ‘What?’

But he doesn’t deny it.

‘Are you cheating on me?’ you repeat, enunciating every word. ‘With Coralie. Are you cheating on me with Coralie?’

You watch as his world slowly unravels, and you can see the invisible wheels turning in his head as he cooks up a lie.

‘Well, are you?’

‘What, cheating? What are you on about?’

‘About the messages on your fucking phone, Jude,’ you grab the phone from the bed and throw it at him. It hits his leg and then lands on the floor, right before his feet. The sound it makes leads you to think you might’ve broken it. ‘I’m talking about the fuck dates when I’m out of town, the nudes and videos she sends you. I saw it all.’

‘You went through my fucking phone?’

‘That’s all you have to say? “You went through my fucking phone?”’ you mimic the way he posed that very stupid question. ‘Give me a fucking break, Jude. Yeah, I went through your phone, but you’re deflecting.’

‘I’m not deflecting.’

‘Yeah, you are!’ 

‘Keep your fucking voice down!’

‘Are. You. Cheating?’

It’s insulting at this point. You’d much rather have him lie to you, it would send you over the edge, but this? He keeps deflecting, there’s no flattery, no lame excuses. . . His blatant lack of effort hurts more than the actual cheating, it’s like he doesn’t even care to save your relationship. 

‘Y/N, I’m just trying to de-escalate the situation.’ 

‘De-escalate what, exactly? Jude, I don’t need you to de-escalate anything, what I need from you is the fucking truth!’ And if you could scream at the top of your lungs with no repercussions, you would. ‘When did it start?’

‘When did what start?’

‘Your affair.’ 

‘It’s not an affair.’

As if that fucking matters. ‘You keep deflecting!’

‘I’m not!’ he fiercely defends. ‘I just want you to calm down, okay? I just want us to have a normal conversation.’

‘Well, for me to be calm, you’d need to answer my question.’ When a tear escapes from your eye, you quickly swipe it away with the back of your hand. ‘I mean, I know things have been bad between us’ another tear, another swipe ‘lately, but I can’t believe you’d cheat on me.’

And with Coralie, of all people. 

Jude sighs, and you can’t place his emotion. It’s kind of hard to place when he’s saying absolutely nothing. 

‘Are you just going to stand there?’ 

‘What? Now you’ve got a problem with me standing?’

‘You know that’s not what I mean.’ This is exhausting, he is exhausting. ‘You’re just standing there saying nothing.’

‘You’re not allowing me to speak.’

‘You’re not really saying much, are you? “Calm down” is not going to cut it.’ 

‘Well, you keep jumping down my throat.’

‘Blame shifting? Really?’ You sigh, ‘How do you expect me to be calm when you keep shifting the blame and upsetting me?’

‘This is pointless.’ Jude walks over to the bed and takes his seat at the end of it, his muscular back turned to you, head in his hands. ‘You do this every fucking time.’

The words come out muffled.

‘Do what?’

‘Act irrational. It makes it hard to talk to you.’

So according to Jude, voicing your opinions and concerns makes you ‘inconsiderate’ and ‘irrational’.

‘I’m irrational all the time?’

‘Yes.’ After a frustratingly long silence, he lifts his head from his hands and turns to regard you. ‘Look, Y/N, I’m not going to say I’m sorry, ‘cause I’m sure that’s the last thing you want to hear.’ 

‘So you’re not sorry?’

‘I didn’t say I wasn’t.’ He huffs, ‘I thought it was my turn to speak.’

So you bite your tongue and allow him the space to state his case. 

‘Coralie was. . . a mistake,’ he starts once he’s sure you won’t kick off again. ‘A big mistake and something I regret, and if I could take it all back, I would. There’s no excuse for what I did, and my actions are unforgivable, but baby, I meant what I said earlier when I said I loved you and want to do right by you.’ 

I know I’ve been a jerk these past few months, he’d told you, but starting tonight, I promise to be better.

The revelation of Jude’s affair gives his words a whole new meaning. And to think that for the longest time, you believed that you were the issue in your relationship, that your career picking up and you constantly having to be out of the city was the root of your issues. 

‘We were fighting all the time.’

‘I know.’ 

‘And when I’d take the blame, you’d let me.’

‘And I’m so sorry. I really am so sorry.’ Jude reaches a hand out to you, and you don’t push it away, you let him take your hand into his. ‘It’s something I regret every day.’ 

After a long silence, you have to ask, ‘How did it even start?’

‘Babe, please don’t–’

‘No, I want to know,’ you cut him off. 

He’s apprehensive, but to avoid another argument, he tells you how six months ago, so in December, when you were out of town after a big argument between you, Coralie had come to the apartment to help him with something. For whatever reason, they started drinking wine, and one thing quickly led to another, and the next thing he knew, they were fucking. 

He insists that he felt awful after the act, but that the affair continued because he ‘honestly didn’t have the balls to end it,’ and he feared that Coralie, the woman scorned, would run to tell you about it.

‘And then it sort of got out of hand,’ he continues. ‘Whenever we’d fight or I’d be frustrated with something at work, I’d turn to Coralie.’

‘Why?’

‘‘Cause a lot of the time, you weren’t there.’

So your budding career was part of the issue, your lack of availability led him to turn to Coralie for comfort. 

‘You don’t have a functioning hand?’

With a wry smile, he responds, ‘It’s not the same, and you know it.’

You don’t find the humour in what he’s just said.

‘Too soon?’

‘Way too soon.’

‘Sorry,’ he pulls his lower lip between his teeth, a nervous habit. ‘It wasn’t just the sex, it was the connection.’

‘Connection?’ you pull your hand from his. ‘You act like I’m never home.’

‘Y/N, be honest.’

‘About what?’ You feel yourself getting worked up all over again, ‘Jude, if you’re going to accuse me, at least make it make sense. I make it a point to not be gone for more than three days in a week.’

‘I know, but–’

‘And don’t act like you’re not the one always encouraging me to take all these jobs across the world.’ 

And if you really think about it, in the last six months, he’d been more encouraging than ever of your career. 

‘So don’t give me that connection crap,’ you conclude.

‘Why is your voice raising again?’

‘‘Cause you’re really pissing me off, and you’re shifting all the blame to me.’ 

‘I’m not.’

‘Yes you are!’ tears spring back into your eyes. ‘Just admit that you’re a cheater, and that you lack self-control, and that you’re unprofessional, sleeping with the team’s assistant.’ 

‘Fucking hell. . .’

‘It’s not fair that you’re making this all my fault, and I’m not going to stand around for it.’ 

‘Y/N–’

‘No, Jude!’ 

You’re suddenly interrupted by a light knock sounding at the door. When Jude gets up to fetch your food, you slide off of the bed to take the hotel robe to cover yourself with. You hear him thank the person at the door as you crawl back onto the bed, and moments later, he comes back into the room pushing the room service trolley. 

‘Where do you want me to put this?’

‘I’m not hungry anymore.’ 

Jude doesn’t respond to that, he simply abandons the cart and joins you at the bed, closing the distance between you.

‘Don’t.’

‘“Don’t” what?’

‘Sit close to me.’

‘I’m not touching you.’

‘I know but. . .’ 

How do you tell him that sitting in such close proximity to him clouds your judgement and makes it hard for you to be mad at him? 

‘You know, I could always tell she had a thing for you,’ you sigh as you turn away from him, thinking of all the times Coralie had shown interest in Jude. ‘I always just dismissed it as a harmless crush.’

He doesn’t say anything, but then again, what is there to say? 

‘And, like, tonight, she kept asking me about you.’ In fact, she was very pushy in her inquisition. ‘So curious about the details of our relationship. Our sex life. She used the word boring to describe it.’

‘I swear she means nothing to me.’

‘Does she know that? Does she know she means nothing to you?’ 

‘Yes, of course she does.’

‘I doubt it.’ You turn back to Jude. ‘How are you going to end this?’

‘I don’t know.’ 

‘You don’t know?’

‘Yeah, I don’t.’

This is all a mess. All of it is a big, stinky mess and a scandal like this could be detrimental to both your careers should it come out. 

‘Y/N, I’m really sorry and I regret it.’ There is sincerity in his voice, in his eyes. ‘And if you leave me, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life because you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘What’s not true?’

‘That I’m the best thing to ever happen to you.’

If it was true, he wouldn’t have cheated on you with the team’s assistant. 

‘It is though.’

‘Whatever,’ you allow yourself to fall back onto the bed, and with a soft grunt, you say, ‘Well, this is a mess.’ 

‘A big one,’ Jude lies down next to you, and weaves his fingers with yours. 

‘I’m so mad at you.’

‘I know.’

‘In fact, I think I hate you.’ 

His grip on your hand tightens, and you think it might be a pained reflex. ‘I know.’ 

‘And I don’t know if I could ever move on from this.’

‘Please try to.’

You turn your head so that the two of you are lying face to face. ‘So what now?’

‘I don’t know,’ he admits. 

And you’re right there with him. You can’t help but feel like this is the calm before the storm. You wouldn’t put it past Coralie to run to the tabloids to share the story of her affair with Jude just for her 15 minutes of fame. 

But it hurts your head to think about that. 

‘I’m tired.’

‘Me too.’ And on cue, Jude yawns obnoxiously loudly. ‘We should sleep.’

‘Yeah.’ 

So you get under the covers, and try to pretend that your entire world isn’t falling apart. You close your eyes and try to force yourself to sleep, but there’s so much going on in your mind. 

Tomorrow is a new day, and who knows what it will bring you? Jude says he’s sorry, and maybe you’re an idiot, but you actually believe him. And as for Coralie? Well, that’s a subject for another day. 

///

‘I guess I’ll see you when you get back to Madrid.’

It’s the morning after, and when you went to bed last night, you weren’t sure what to expect of your morning exchange, but this isn’t it. Things are somewhat awkward between you, but you’re also being cordial and some version of normal in your interactions, which is nice. 

 ‘Yeah, I guess so.’ 

This morning, Jude joined you for an early breakfast in your suite. During the breakfast, you mostly talked about possible vacation spots for the summer, and revised the previous day’s events. With all the arguments happening, you didn’t really get to celebrate the fact that Jude had won his first UCL. 

‘Are you filming today?’

And now he’s standing across from you, dressed and ready to join the rest of the team down at the hotel’s lobby for their flight back to Madrid. 

‘Yeah, but only later.’ You smile, ‘I can’t believe I agreed to this.’

Jude laughs. ‘My very own Kim Kardashian.’

‘You know me,’ you tease. 

There’s actually something you want to tell him, but now doesn’t seem like the right time to. 

‘Is everything okay?’

His simple question is a reminder that you can never truly hide things from him, he’s just so good at reading you. 

‘I’m all good,’ you assure him. ‘I’m just going to miss you, is all.’

He flashes you a bright smile. ‘It’s only a few hours.’ 

‘I know.’ You walk into him, right into his tall and strong frame, and wrap your arms around his muscular torso. ‘I’m, like, really going to miss you.’

‘Why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye to me right now.’

You chuckle. ‘I’m not. I promise you I’m not.’

‘Okay,’ he presses a kiss to the top of your head. ‘Okay.’ 

You don’t immediately release him, you’re not ready to, but he’s got to go—duty calls. 

‘Text me when you land.’

‘Yeah.’ 

With a kiss to the lips, and an ‘I love you’ murmured against them, he’s gone. 

///

An hour later.

The timer you have set starts going off. 

Your heart is hammering against your chest as you reach for the Clearblue home pregnancy test. After Jude had left, you had called the hotel’s front desk to request a pregnancy test, if they had one. Within 15 minutes, there was a woman at your door to deliver it. 

With a shaking hand, you reach for the plastic stick. 

‘Holy fucking. . .’ 

You can’t believe your eyes. 

‘I’m pregnant.’ 

///

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