#that one answer where jude and i are the same | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

missbluee · 29 days ago

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Chasing dimples

Pairing : Jobe bellingham × she/her (maya) Summary: One night. A slow-burn connection. And a morning that feels heavier than goodbye. What happens when something fleeting doesn’t feel so fleeting after all?

🌺 ₊˚⊹♡୨୧

🎧 Vibe Track :

Ibiza had a way of making everything feel slower.

The breeze was warm, like it carried secrets from the ocean. Jobe leaned back in his seat, sunglasses sliding a little down his nose, fingers wrapped lazily around the neck of a sweating glass bottle. Jude was somewhere behind him, laughing too loud with the boys — but Jobe barely listened.

He liked this — the quiet buzz of vacation, the heat, the music humming low from a bar. He looked good. He knew it. Tall. Relaxed. A little smug. The kind of smug that came from having nothing to prove, at least for the moment.

And everything felt fine.

Until he saw her.

...Until she happened.

She wasn’t doing anything special. Just walking. But there was something in the way she moved — slow, unbothered, like she belonged here and nowhere at the same time.

The sunlight kissed her skin, giving it that honey-golden glow, like she’d been dipped in light. Her dress — pale blue, almost white in the sun — clung just enough to make you blink twice. Thin straps, low back, the kind of thing that made the breeze look lucky just to touch her.

Her hair was pinned up in that easy, undone way, a few strands falling forward and brushing her cheek. She tucked them behind her ear without thinking. No loud makeup. No flashy jewelry. Just her — clean, radiant, untouchable.

Jobe stared a second too long.

And then, because he was Jobe — because confidence was second nature — he tilted his chin up and said the first thing that came to mind:

“You’re not from here, are you?”

She slowed, head turning just enough for him to catch the curve of her smile — polite, not impressed.

“That obvious?”

Her voice was soft. American. A little tired, like the sun had worn her down. Or maybe life had.

Jobe smiled — easy, charming. The kind he knew worked nine times out of ten.

“Kind of,” he said, nudging his sunglasses up. “You don’t look like you belong here.”

She raised a brow, kept walking.

“Thanks… I guess?”

“No, I mean that in a good way,” he added quickly, standing now, a half-step toward her, half a dare.

“You’re not like these girls. You’ve got— I dunno. A different vibe.”

She finally stopped.

Looked up at him.

Her eyes were clear. Curious. Not cold — just unreadable. Like she was weighing something, but he wasn’t sure what.

“That’s the second line you’ve used in under a minute,” she said, voice light but firm.

“You got a third one, or should I keep walking?”

For a second, he had nothing.

And that? That didn’t happen often.

She gave him a small smile. Not flirtatious. Just... amused.

Then turned and walked away.

No backward glance.

No name exchanged.

No interest shown.

Jobe blinked, caught somewhere between offended and intrigued. His pride didn’t bruise easily — but this wasn’t about rejection.

It was the fact that she wasn’t trying. That she wasn’t even playing the game.

He watched her blend into the slow-moving crowd, that soft blue dress slipping out of sight like a daydream that never stuck around long enough.

Jude showed up a minute later, smacking a hand on his shoulder.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Jobe muttered, still watching where she’d gone.

“Just saw something interesting.”

“What, a mirror?” Jude grinned.

Jobe didn’t answer.

Because now he was wondering if he’d see her again.

And why it mattered if he didn’t.

He tried to shake her off.

Laughed with the boys, joined whatever beach game they had going. Sipped from an overpriced drink in a neon cup. Flirted back when it made sense.

But something about her had lodged in him — like sand in a shoe.

But she was still there.

Not literally.

Just... there.

The way the breeze had lifted the hem of her dress.

The shape of her collarbone.

The way her voice curled around her words — soft but certain.

Like she didn’t need to be louder to be heard.

Her nails — painted something pale, like seashells.

Her skin — smooth, sun-kissed, but not tanned. She didn’t look like someone who lived in the sun.

More like someone the sun had borrowed for a weekend.

But her eyes...

That’s what did it.

They weren’t bored.

They weren’t impressed.

They weren’t wide with recognition or flirty curiosity.

They just looked at him.

Like he was some guy.

Not Jobe Bellingham.

Just... a guy.

And that?

That stuck.

The sun had started to drop, painting the sky in that soft gold-blue haze Ibiza was known for. Jobe sat at the edge of a beach chair, one arm slung across the backrest, phone in hand — screen black, forgotten.

He hadn’t touched it in ten minutes.

“Alright.”

Jude’s voice cut through, loud and amused.

“Who is she?”

Jobe blinked. “What?”

Jude arched a brow and flopped down beside him.

“You’ve been weird since this morning. Zoning out. Stirring your drink like you’re trying to read it. So — who’s the girl?”

Jobe scoffed, mouth twitching at the corners.

“No one.”

“‘No one’ got you acting like your soul’s still wandering the boardwalk.”

Jude leaned in, grinning.

“Come on. Spill.”

Jobe shrugged, but his voice dropped a little lower.

“Just... ran into someone earlier.”

Jude didn’t press. Just nodded — slow, knowing. Like he already had the whole story.

Jobe leaned back, eyes locked on the horizon.

The kind of stillness that didn’t come from peace, but from thinking too hard.

“She didn’t even know who I was,” he said finally.

“Didn’t care, either.”

Jude let out a long, low whistle.

“Damn. That’ll do it.”

Jobe chuckled — short, quiet. The kind that stays behind the teeth.

“She was just... I dunno. Quiet. Pretty. Real.”

“And now she’s gone?”

“Guess so.”

But even as he said it, he didn’t quite believe it.

Because maybe, just maybe — the night wasn’t finished with him yet.

The bass was thick — heavy, steady, like a second heartbeat pulsing through the sand.

The party had moved beachside, the sky now a canopy of stars tangled with the strobe of club lights. Music bled out of the speakers, all glitter and heat.

Jobe moved with it. Half-dancing, half-searching.

Laughter buzzed around him — people with saltwater hair and sticky drinks, all tanned limbs and soft chaos.

Everyone else was in it.

But not him.

He was still in her.

Still back in the way she looked at him like he didn’t matter.

Still caught in the quiet she left behind.

His eyes flicked through the crowd.

Scanning. Hoping.

Maybe even praying a little — not that he’d admit it.

And then —

There.

Not a vision.

Not a trick of the light.

Her, just her.

A few tables away, under the warm glow of soft yellow bulbs strung overhead, she sat with a group of friends.

Different dress now — white, soft, almost silky.

Her hair was twisted up into a loose bun, strands slipping free to frame her face. Her lips shimmered with something glossy, catching the light when she smiled.

She was laughing.

Not loud. Not forced.

Just a soft, easy sound that melted into the air like it belonged there.

Then Jobe saw it.

A guy.

Sitting next to her.

His hand resting on her shoulder — casual. Familiar.

Bare skin.

An easy touch.

Jobe froze.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

She wasn’t his.

He didn’t even know her name.

But still — something twisted, low and tight in his gut.

He didn’t look away.

She didn’t see him.

Didn’t glance his way.

Didn’t feel his eyes — steady, heavy — tracking every slow tilt of her head, every small shift of her shoulders when she laughed again.

The guy leaned in.

Said something low, right against her ear.

And she smiled.

Then blushed.

Not big. Not showy.

Just this soft tuck of her chin, like a secret bloomed beneath her skin.

And God, she looked like a memory in the making.

Jobe’s fingers curled tighter around his cup.

He hadn’t taken a sip in a while.

“Bro.”

Jude’s voice again — perfectly timed and wildly annoying — as he clapped a hand on Jobe’s shoulder.

“You good? You’ve been staring into space like it owes you something.”

Jobe blinked.

Back to the party.

The noise. The heat. The beat.

“Thought I saw someone I knew,” he muttered.

Jude followed his gaze.

“The table full of models over there? Wow. Must be a tough life.”

“Shut up,” Jobe said, but a smile tugged, despite everything.

Still — he looked back.

She still hadn’t turned.

Still hadn’t noticed.

Jude watched him for a beat longer.

Then, slower this time, tracked the line of his brother’s gaze.

Paused.

And smirked.

“Ahhh.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping into that older-brother drawl.

“Is that her?”

Jobe didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to.

“Damn.” Jude let out a quiet whistle.

“No wonder you’ve been walking around like your brain’s buffering all day.”

Jobe rolled his eyes, shifting.

“Shut up, man.”

“She got you spiraling, huh?”

Jude nudged him. “You’ve been acting real poetic since this morning. Like, staring-out-car-windows-during-rain-montage poetic.”

Jobe shook his head, cheeks warming.

But he laughed.

Jude stepped in front of him, hands out like a coach mid-pep talk.

“Bro. You’re Jobe Bellingham. You wanna talk to her or what?”

Jobe’s eyes flicked back toward the table.

“I dunno. She doesn’t even know who I am.”

“Exactly.” Jude grinned wider.

“Mystery. Women love mystery. Go make your movie moment or something. You’re tall. You’ve got the hair. You’re literally glowing. Do something.”

Jobe hesitated.

The guy’s hand was still there — still too close.

“She’s with someone.”

Jude shrugged.

“He’s barely touching her. Could be her cousin.”

He gave him a push. “Go be interesting.”

“I’m not going over there,” Jobe said finally, jaw tight.

Jude blinked.

“Bro. What?”

“I’m not.” He crossed his arms, shifting just enough to angle her table out of view.

“She’s already got some guy whispering in her ear. I’m not about to look like I’m... pressed.”

Jude stared at him.

Then let out the longest, most dramatic sigh known to man.

“Jesus Christ. You’re impossible.”

Jobe didn’t look at him.

Didn’t look back at her either.

“She walked away once,” he said, low. “Not chasing that.”

Jude threw his hands up.

“You’re not chasing. You’re showing up. Right now, you’re walking around like a man in a Lana Del Rey music video and doing nothing about it.”

“Let it go, man.”

“No.” Jude deadpanned.

“Because she’s gonna leave and you’ll be crying to the ocean about her lip gloss or whatever.”

Jobe shook his head, but the smile was creeping in.

“Okay. Fine,” Jude said, eyeing him. “If you won’t go up to her, do something better.”

“Like what?”

Jude’s grin was slow and lethal.

“Make her come to you.”

Jobe squinted.

“How?”

Jude stepped in close, grabbed him by the shoulder.

“You’re Jobe damn Bellingham. Go beat every guy here at beach football. Go DJ. Get in the water and flex. I don’t know — give her a reason to look again.”

Jobe stared.

Then downed what was left in his cup.

“…You’re actually not as dumb as you look.”

Jude laughed.

“You’re welcome. Now go be hot.”

Jobe ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharp through his nose.

He still hadn’t looked back at her — but he could feel her. Like gravity.

That laugh — he knew it now. The flick of her fingers when she talked. The way her shoulders moved when she leaned in to listen.

It was messing with his head.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Okay.”

Jude raised a brow.

“Okay what?”

Jobe hesitated.

Then turned to him — the quiet kind of desperation only a younger brother can pull off.

Eyes a little wide. Voice low.

“…What if we sent her table drinks or something?”

Jude blinked.

Then grinned.

Then doubled over laughing.

“Oh my God — no. You’re so down bad it’s embarrassing.”

“Shut up,” Jobe snapped, cheeks flaming.

“It’s just an idea.”

“That’s not an idea, that’s you throwing a rock at her window like we’re in a romcom.” Jude wiped a tear from under his eye.

“You’re so gone.”

Jobe rolled his eyes, but couldn’t fight the grin tugging at his mouth.

“Forget it. I’ll figure it out myself.”

“No no no,” Jude said, straightening up and slinging an arm around his shoulders.

“We’re doing this. She doesn’t even know your name yet. Let’s change that.”

He pulled out his phone, eyes scanning the scene like a director.

“You want this cute or cocky?”

Jobe considered it.

Then: “…Cocky.”

“Alright then,” Jude said, typing fast.

“We send a drink. With a note.”

Jobe narrowed his eyes.

“What kind of note?”

Jude turned the screen toward him.

It read:

The guy you walked away from says hi.

Jobe stared.

Then smirked.

“…Send it.”

The server made their way across the beach with the drinks — two glasses, glinting pale gold in the evening light, and a folded note tucked gently between them.

Jobe stood a little off to the side, hands in his pockets, the sea breeze teasing his hair. He was pretending to laugh at something Jude was saying, but really — he couldn’t breathe.

She was mid-laugh herself, head tilted back in that careless, pretty way, when the tray arrived. Her brows furrowed as she looked up, lips parting just slightly as the server nodded toward her.

Jobe watched it happen — the moment it clicked. The way her hand hovered over the note, uncertain, before she picked it up and unfolded it slowly.

She read it once.

Then again.

Her lips pressed into a smile. Not wide. Not too much. Just enough to soften her whole face.

Her friend leaned in to peek, saying something. She shook her head, a blush creeping up the sides of her face.

And then—

Her eyes began to scan the crowd.

Jobe’s stomach dropped.

She looked left, toward the firepit. Right, toward the bar. Her gaze moved across groups laughing, dancing, talking — and then her eyes stopped.

On him.

Just for a second.

A flicker.

Recognition.

Then she looked away. Fast. Flustered.

Like she’d seen something she wasn’t ready for.

Jude elbowed him hard.

“There it is. She saw you, man.”

Jobe swallowed, smirking under his breath — but something in his chest tightened.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. “Felt like she looked through me.”

She didn’t look again.

Not during the next ten minutes, when her friend told a story with wild hand gestures.

Not when a new song started and the group around her cheered.

Not even when Jude made a very obvious joke and Jobe laughed louder than necessary, hoping — praying — she might glance up.

Nothing.

Jobe hated how aware of her he was.

Every move she made — the way she tucked her leg under her chair, leaned forward to talk, circled her straw absentmindedly — it all tugged at him like a thread wound straight through his ribs.

But she didn’t look.

Not even once.

She had read his note.

Smiled at it.

Searched for him.

And now?

Now it was like she was pretending he didn’t exist.

"…She’s doing it on purpose,” Jobe muttered, arms folded tight across his chest.

Jude raised a brow. “Or maybe she’s just letting you sweat a little.”

“Yeah, well—congrats. It’s working.”

Across the tables, her friend leaned in, said something low.

She gave the tiniest smile. Barely there.

And maybe Jobe was imagining it — but for just a second, a flicker — he thought her gaze brushed his again.

Like light catching on glass.

Like she was letting him feel the silence between them.

She knew.

She knew he was watching.

And she was making him wait.

Jude took a sip of his drink. “You’re in trouble, bro.”

Jobe didn’t answer.

His jaw tensed, but his lips curled. Just slightly.

“I know.”

Jude was still talking beside him — loud, animated, probably hilarious — but Jobe wasn’t listening.

His eyes were on her again.

She was dancing now. Just swaying in her seat, hips moving with the beat, hair falling loose from the bun she’d tried to keep neat.

She didn’t even look like she was trying. She was just… being.

And it was driving him insane.

“I mean, look at you,” Jude scoffed, half pity, half delight. “You’re completely gone.”

“I am not.”

“You’ve been staring at her for thirty minutes like a Victorian man in emotional crisis.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re gripping your drink like you’re about to challenge her to a duel.”

“I’m just—”

“Obsessed,” Jude finished.

Jobe exhaled through his nose, turned his back to the crowd. “She’s not even that—I mean, she’s cute, sure, but it’s not like—”

Jude gave him a flat look. “You’ve described her dress in more detail than you’ve ever talked about tactics.”

“That’s just… observation.”

“Observation? Bro. You said she’s ‘the kind of girl whose perfume probably smells like dreams and trouble.’ Who even says that?”

Jobe groaned, dragging a hand through his curls. “This is so dumb. I don’t even know her.”

“Yet here you are. Acting like you’ll die if she doesn’t look at you again.”

He didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Because Jude was right.

He didn’t know her name.

Didn’t know where she was from.

Didn’t know if he’d ever see her after tonight.

But the idea of watching her walk away — of doing nothing — made his chest feel too tight to breathe.

Jobe glanced over his shoulder again—his eyes finding her instantly, like they had their own orbit now.

She was laughing.

Not at him. Not for him. Just... living.

And it was unbearable.

“I swear to God, this is embarrassing,” Jude muttered. “You’re down bad.”

“I am not—”

“You need help.”

“I don’t need help—”

“Fine. Then go talk to her.”

“…I might need help.”

Jude’s tone turned syrupy-sweet. Too sweet. “If you’re not gonna do anything, I will.”

Jobe blinked. “What?”

Jude shrugged, casually throwing a match into the gasoline. “I’ll just go over, say hi, maybe tell her how you’ve been watching her like a lovesick golden retriever for the past hour—”

“Jude.”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” He was already standing, already fixing his shirt. “She deserves to know she’s the main character in your little mental romcom.”

“Sit down.”

“Why? You’re not doing anything.”

“I said—”

“I’ll even tell her you’re the funny Bellingham brother. You know, to soften the blow.”

“Jude, I swear—”

“Or maybe I’ll lie and say you’re shy. Girls love shy guys.”

Jobe grabbed his wrist before he could move. “You are so annoying.”

“Admit you wanna talk to her.”

“No.”

“Admit you’ve imagined her saying your name like it’s poetry.”

Jobe’s grip tightened. “I will end you.”

“Then go.” Jude leaned in, voice low and goading. “Unless you're scared.”

“I’m not—” Jobe scoffed, leaning back in his chair like he wasn’t seconds from combusting. “I’m just not pressed. It’s not that deep.”

Jude smirked. “Then why are your ears red?”

“They’re not.”

“They are.”

Jobe scowled, rubbing the back of his neck like it could cool the heat crawling up. “You’re acting like I’m in love or something.”

“Aren’t you?”

Jobe didn’t answer.

Because she was laughing again—eyes soft, lips glossy, that boy still too close—and something in his chest clenched.

He wasn’t in love.

Obviously.

But he was definitely losing a game he hadn’t even realized he was playing.

Jude leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lazily against the table as he watched his younger brother silently combust across the dance floor.

“So… we’re just gonna sit here all night while your dream girl gets claimed by Mr. Hand-On-Her-Shoulder over there?”

Jobe didn’t respond. His jaw tightened. His eyes stayed locked on the shimmer of her dress as she leaned in to whisper something to her friend—laughing again.

Jude let out a long, theatrical sigh. “Tragic, really. All that height, all that jawline—and zero game.”

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously.” He turned, voice low, smirk in full effect. “If you’re not gonna do anything, maybe I should.”

Jobe’s head snapped toward him. “You what?”

“I mean…” Jude dragged it out, relishing every word. “She’s cute. I’m charming. I could keep her company, ask her about her night. Maybe get her number. If someone doesn’t step up—”

“Don’t even try it.”

Jude held up both hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying. You clearly don’t want her.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t do anything either.” Jude leaned in, grin sharp. “I could walk over there right now, flash the Bellingham smile, tell her I’ve got a little brother who’s tragically shy—”

“Jude.”

“—and she’d eat it up.”

Jobe was out of his chair before he even realized it, a low curse muttered under his breath.

Jude leaned back, satisfied. “That’s what I thought.”

Jobe shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to calm the storm brewing in his chest as his eyes found her again.

Jude’s grin widened. “Go on, Romeo. Save her from the wrong guy—before your big brother does.”

She didn’t see him coming.

Jobe’s steps were steady—measured—even as his heart pounded like a war drum in his chest. He wasn’t the kind of guy who got nervous. At least, that’s what he liked to believe. Shoulders back. Chin up. Hands in his pockets. Casual. Controlled. Cool.

She was seated, legs crossed with effortless grace, the soft fabric of her dress slipping just past her knee. Glossy lips curved around the rim of her glass, head tilted as she listened to the boy beside her. There was something glowing about her—moonlit and unbothered. Like she belonged only to herself, and that made him want her even more.

He stopped a few steps from the table, letting the silence stretch for a beat before speaking.

“Did you like the drink?”

She looked up, surprised—but not startled. No real shift in expression. Just those eyes—calm, assessing—meeting his.

“So that was you.”

He smirked. “Who else would it be?”

She angled slightly toward him, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Could’ve been your brother. He was staring too.”

His brows lifted, caught. “You noticed?”

“I notice a lot of things.”

Damn.

He stepped closer, thumb brushing his lower lip, trying not to get lost in the shimmer on her collarbone.

“You always this hard to read?”

Her lips didn’t smile, but her eyes did. “You always this full of yourself?”

His grin widened. “Only when it works.”

A breath of laughter slipped out of her—quiet, effortless. She raised her glass again, sipping slow, watching him over the rim.

“So what now?” she asked. “You gonna ask my name, or just stand there looking proud of yourself?”

“I figured I’d let you ask mine first,” he said, pulling out the chair across from her.

She didn’t stop him.

Didn’t invite him, either.

But she didn’t look away.

And that was enough—for now.

She swirled the drink absentmindedly, lashes brushing her cheek as she finally asked—soft, like it was a secret:

“Okay… so what’s your name then?”

Jobe leaned back slightly in the chair, eyes steady on her, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Jobe,” he said simply.

“And yours?”

She hesitated—just a beat—then,

“Maya.”

“Pretty,” he said, too fast. But without an ounce of regret.

She glanced at him sideways, the ghost of a smile playing at her mouth.

“You say that to all the girls you send drinks to?”

He let out a quiet laugh, running a hand through the curls at the back of his head.

“Nah. You’re the first one to make me work for a smile.”

This time, she did smile. Soft. A little shy. But real.

“Maybe I’m not that easy to impress.”

He tilted his head, playful. Curious.

“Challenge accepted.”

Her gaze lingered now—searching—as if trying to read the spaces between his words.

“You don’t look like the type who needs to try hard.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m not used to girls walking away from me.”

She raised a brow, amused.

“I didn’t walk away. I just… didn’t stop.”

He leaned in slightly, voice dipping lower.

“Would you stop now?”

Her breath caught—just a fraction. She blinked slowly, fingertips tracing the condensation on her glass.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

His voice was quiet. Careful.

She looked at him—more directly this time. Eyes soft, but impossible to read.

“On whether you’re worth stopping for.”

Jobe didn’t move. Not right away. He kept his expression neutral, let his mouth twitch without turning into a smile.

Cool. Calm. In control.

But damn.

She smiled.

And not just any smile.

That kind. The kind that came slow and effortless—so soft it felt like a win he didn’t see coming.

And then he saw them.

Dimples.

Two of them.

Perfect. Deep. Completely unfair.

It hit him like a cheap shot to the chest.

He blinked, glanced away for a beat—like the lights above suddenly needed inspecting. Anything to stop looking at her like she was gravity.

She didn’t notice. Or maybe she did and just didn’t care—too busy sipping her drink, eyes drifting toward the beach, casually wrecking him without even trying.

Jobe cleared his throat.

“So... you always out here charming strangers with that smile, or am I just lucky tonight?”

She turned back to him—slow, like she’d been expecting the question.

“I could ask you the same thing, pretty boy.”

That smile again.

His ego should’ve kicked in. Should’ve tossed out some clever, cocky line.

But his brain?

“You’ve got dimples.”

It slipped out. Flat. Unfiltered. Dumb.

Too late.

She laughed.

“Most people do.”

“Not like that.”

His voice came out lower than expected—more honest than he meant it to.

Shit.

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, finally meeting his eyes again—warmer now, a little amused.

“You’re not as smooth as you look, Jobe.”

He tilted his head, trying not to grin.

“Then stay a little longer and let me prove you wrong.”

She didn’t answer right away.

Just looked at him.

Long enough to make his stomach flip once—annoyingly—despite all the cool he was trying to project.

Then, without a word, she slid off the stool, downed the last of her drink, and set the glass on the table with a soft clink.

“Alright,” she said, fingers brushing through her bun.

“Let’s walk, pretty boy.”

Jobe blinked.

Just like that?

He moved fast to catch up, hands in his pockets, trying not to stare too long at the way the breeze toyed with the hem of her dress. Her shoulders bare. Her pace unhurried. She didn’t glance back. Didn’t need to.

She just knew.

They walked side by side along the curved path that hugged the beach, the night cooler now, the party sounds fading into the distance behind them.

“So, Maya,” he started, glancing sideways at her, “what brings a mystery girl like you to Ibiza?”

She smiled softly but didn’t look at him.

“A little break. Some sun. A bit of dancing. You?”

“Same. Minus the dancing. Jude won’t shut up about it though.”

“The one who whistled?” she teased, finally meeting his eyes.

“He’s dramatic.”

“You have no idea.” Jobe chuckled, shaking his head. Then quieter, “He saw me staring at you.”

Her eyebrow lifted gently.

“Did you?”

“A bit.”

A pause.

“Maybe more than a bit.”

Maya hummed, like she was deciding whether to like that or not. Her fingers brushed her arm absently; her voice light again.

“You’re better when you’re not trying so hard, you know.”

He smiled—real this time.

“And you’re dangerous when you smile like that.”

She didn’t deny it.

They walked on, arms occasionally brushing. Silence settled—not awkward, but full. Warm. Curious. The kind of silence that says more than words ever could.

“So,” he asked, kicking a small stone off the path with his sneaker, “where’s home?”

She glanced over, her eyes catching bits of moonlight.

“Michigan,” she said, smoothing the side of her dress absentmindedly.

“It’s not as glamorous as Ibiza, trust me.”

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “Something about you sounds like you belong somewhere colder. Like winter, record stores, and overpriced coffee.”

She laughed softly.

“You got all that from ‘Michigan’?”

“Nah,” he smirked, “from the way you said it.”

She bit her lip, like she didn’t want to smile but failed.

“Where’s home for you, mystery boy?”

“Birmingham. England.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “Explains the accent.”

“Explains the charm, too.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes lightly.

“You were doing better when you weren’t trying so hard, remember?”

Jobe chuckled, his hand sliding from his pocket to brush his knuckles near hers—almost accidently.

A beat passed.

Then she tilted her head, looking up at him, her voice dropping quieter.

“You play football?”

He raised a brow. “You knew?”

“No. Jude called you ‘a walking PR nightmare’ earlier. Sounded like a football brother thing.”

He laughed out loud. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Then, “Yeah. I play for Sunderland.”

She gave a small nod, no flash of recognition—just curiosity.

“Is that big?”

And weirdly… that made him like her more.

“Not Madrid,” he shrugged, “but… it’s mine.”

She smiled again—real this time.

“I like that.”

They kept walking, the sand getting closer now, the wind tugging softly at her dress and loosening a strand from her bun.

The night air had that hush—the kind that makes you whisper without even thinking. Sand crunched lightly beneath their steps as they reached the edge of the beach, waves rolling in soft and silver under the moon.

She kicked off her heels with a grin, letting her toes sink into the cool sand.

“God, this feels better than it should.”

He smiled quietly, the kind of smile not meant to be seen.

“Yeah... you look like you needed it.”

She turned to him, arms crossed now against the breeze.

“So what do you actually do when you’re not being mysteriously vague and charmingly annoying?”

“Annoying?” He pressed a hand to his chest, mock offended.

“See? I was right about the cold state energy.”

She laughed again, soft and warm this time—as if the tension folded into something sweeter.

A silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward. The wind moved her dress; the moonlight settled on her skin. Jobe didn’t look away.

“You’ve been staring,” she said quietly, not accusing—more like letting him know she noticed.

“I know,” he replied just as quietly.

Her eyes searched his face, maybe for a sign he was playing. But he wasn’t. His mouth twitched slightly, unsure.

She stepped a little closer, head tilted. The air between them thinned.

“You’re not what I expected.”

“You didn’t even know who I was.” He smirked.

“Exactly.”

Her smile softened, fingers brushing down the inside of her arm—nervous but steady.

He took a step closer, testing the space, watching her eyes.

“Don’t kiss me if you’re gonna regret it,” she whispered.

“Don’t let me,” he whispered back.

She didn’t move. Neither did he—until his hand found her cheek, gentle, thumb brushing the freckle just below her eye. Her breath hitched.

And slowly, like something inevitable, he leaned in.

And kissed her.

It wasn’t fireworks. It was something softer, deeper—like the tide pulling in slow and steady, carrying all the words they hadn’t spoken. The kind of kiss that didn’t need to shout, only to feel. Just being there, two heartbeats syncing quietly in the dark.

When they pulled apart, her breath hitched, eyes wide and glowing with something fragile and fierce all at once.

He didn’t say a thing. He just held her there, like she was the only secret he’d ever want to keep.

She searched his eyes, breath trembling, before he whispered,

“Let’s get out of here.”

No urgency. No pressure. Just a soft invitation wrapped in everything he couldn’t say aloud.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, then back up, the faintest, almost shy smile breaking through the quiet. A yes, delicate as silk.

His fingers slid down her arm, finding hers, lacing together like they belonged—like they’d been waiting for this moment all along.

They moved through the fading music and flickering lights, her heels swinging loose in her hand, his thumb tracing small circles on her knuckles—slow, sure, grounding.

The elevator closed around them, a quiet bubble outside the world.

She leaned against the mirrored wall, eyes closed, breath shallow and soft, and he memorized every line, every curve, every subtle tremble.

Ding.

The door opened, the lock clicked—then closed.

She turned, eyes meeting his—soft, open, vulnerable, unreadable—and it shattered the silence between them, breaking everything wide open.

His hand found her face, gentle, trembling just slightly with the weight of everything unsaid.

He leaned in—slow, deliberate, needing.

The kiss ignited something wild and tender all at once—heat and hunger tangled with aching softness. Her fingers wove through his shirt, pulling him closer, while his hands roamed freely, desperate and reverent, tracing her curves like a prayer.

There was no doubt. No hesitation. Only the fierce pull of two souls crashing together in a perfect, endless moment.

Outside, the city sparkled in cold blues and distant golds.

But inside, the world dissolved—two shadows, breaths mingling, soft laughter breaking through the darkness.

Skin met skin, hearts pounding, lips moving—until the edges blurred.

Until everything else faded away.

.....

The morning sun filtered softly through the half-open curtains, spilling a gentle gold light that pooled over the rumpled sheets and the delicate curve of her bare shoulder. The room felt suspended in that quiet, tender moment between night and day, when everything was still soft and unspoken.

Jobe blinked awake slowly, his mind foggy, his body still halfway lost in sleep. His arm stretched across the bed, resting on the sheets where she had been lying—almost as if it hadn’t yet remembered she wasn’t his to hold. He breathed in the faint scent of her, a mix of salt air and something sweet and familiar, and for a moment, he let himself stay there, frozen in the stillness.

Her hair was a wild, beautiful mess of soft waves scattered across the pillow, strands catching the light like threads of silk. Her cheek pressed gently into the fabric, her lips parted just so, like she was caught between dreams and waking. There was a tiny crease between her brows, a trace of the weight her mind carried even in sleep—like she was living a story he wasn’t quite part of yet.

He watched her in silence, not daring to move, not needing words. Just memorizing the way the morning light made her skin glow, warm and fragile, as if it could be broken or kissed away in a single breath.

The quiet around them was too thick, too heavy—like the world was holding its breath, waiting.

Last night still clung to the air. The heat of it, the softness and the rush, the messy closeness of two people who had somehow found something rare between them. But morning was different. Morning was a fragile thing. It was the pause after a rush, the space where things could slip away if they weren’t careful.

His fingers twitched, restless, and then he reached out without thinking, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The light touch stirred her, slow and hesitant. Her lashes fluttered open, sleepy and uncertain, before her eyes met his—deep, searching, a little vulnerable.

“Morning,” she whispered, voice thick and raspy, like she was still caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

“Hey.” His throat tightened, words catching like they weren’t sure if they belonged here. For a moment, the space between them was full of everything unsaid—the warmth, the uncertainty, the fragile hope.

Her smile was lazy, soft, the kind of smile that made him want to freeze time, to hold onto the moment before it slipped away.

And there it was — that dimple.

Not the kind that shouted, but soft, tucked into her right cheek like a secret. The kind that only showed when her smile was real, unguarded. He liked that about her — that it wasn’t always there. Like it was something rare. Something earned.

And he’d earned it.

At least for this moment.

But then, her gaze dropped to the clock on the wall.

And everything shifted. The spell cracked.

“Shit…” she muttered, sitting up too quickly, the sheets slipping from her skin in a quiet sigh. Jobe’s eyes traced the motion for a brief second before he looked away, trying to hold back the sudden swell of something like regret.

“You leaving today?” His voice was low, steady but fragile—because he already knew the answer, and it hurt just to say it out loud.

She nodded, her fingers tangled in her hair, brushing it back as if trying to smooth out more than just strands. “Flight in a few hours. Gotta pack and… all that.”

Silence settled over the room like a weight. It filled every corner, thick and heavy with things neither of them wanted to say but both felt pressing between them.

Jobe sank back against the pillows, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if it could offer answers. What was this? What did last night mean? Was it just a moment stolen from the world, or something more? And did he even want it to be something more?

He was no longer the cool, collected guy he had convinced himself he was. Suddenly, he felt exposed—too honest, too raw, too real.

She moved quietly around the room, gathering her things with a grace that made it impossible to look away. Her perfume lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of her presence. He watched—the soft arch of her back, the delicate curve of her fingers, the way a small dimple appeared when she smiled softly at something on her phone.

The quiet stretched between them, a fragile bridge holding them together, or maybe pulling them apart.

Before the silence could become too much, she finally spoke—her voice barely more than a breath, but weighted with everything she couldn’t say:

“Thanks… for last night.”

She stood at the mirror, slipping on her earrings—delicate little things that caught the morning light like tiny promises. Her lips were glossed again, the same soft shine from the night before, but this time, there was no anticipation in her eyes. No excitement for the night ahead. She was dressing to leave.

Jobe sat up slowly, the sheet slipping down to his waist, elbows resting on his knees as he watched her reflected in the glass. Words crowded his chest, heavy and raw, but they tangled somewhere between pride and confusion, stuck beneath the surface.

“You really have to go?” His voice was softer than he meant it to be. Quieter. Almost a plea.

She paused for a moment, the weight of his question hanging in the air. Then, without turning around, she nodded.

“Yeah.”

The silence that followed was long, stretching between them like a fragile thread.

“You gonna give me your number or…” He left the sentence unfinished, the casual tone belying the nerves fluttering in his fingers as they fidgeted with the sheet.

Slowly, she turned to face him, eyes meeting his—gentle, sad, but with a quiet certainty.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

There it was.

The answer he didn’t want, but somehow, deep down, expected.

He raised his brows, trying to look unfazed. Trying to convince himself it didn’t matter.

“Why not?”

Still calm. Still cool. Still pretending it was just words.

She laughed softly, a quiet sound more to herself than to him. Her voice was steady, but it carried an undercurrent of something bittersweet.

“Because it was just a night. And I don’t want it to become something it wasn’t.”

His throat suddenly felt dry, the words catching there.

“You think it wasn’t something?”

Her eyes flicked away, down to her hands twisting the earring backs.

“I think it was beautiful. But… I leave in a few hours. You go back to your world. I go back to mine.”

He scoffed, leaning back a little, the edge of frustration creeping in.

“So that’s it?”

She stepped closer—just enough to meet his gaze without hesitation.

“Jobe… You don’t even know my last name.”

That struck deeper than he wanted to admit, unraveling a thread inside him he hadn’t noticed before.

She pressed her lips into a soft, bittersweet smile—one full of kindness and goodbye all at once.

And then, slow and warm, she kissed his cheek. The kind of kiss that stays with you—gentle, final.

“Take care, alright?”

With that, she turned, walking toward the door—barefoot, graceful, gone.

He didn’t stop her.

Not because he didn’t want to.

But because a part of him already knew.

If it was meant to be more, fate would find a way.

If not… at least he’d remember the girl with the dimples and the soft smile.

The one who didn’t stay.

The door clicked shut.

That was it.

Jobe didn’t move. He just sat there—legs dangling over the edge of the bed, hair tousled, her perfume still lingering in the air like a whisper too fragile to hold but too heavy to forget.

And for a boy who had it all—fame, attention, girls he could forget by morning—

he hated this.

He hated how her absence screamed louder than the music from last night.

Hated how his chest ached in a quiet, unfamiliar way.

Hated that she didn’t look back.

That she didn’t want to.

And still, he couldn’t stop replaying it—her voice, the way her laugh curled at the edges, the way she said his name like it was silk, not something tossed around by commentators.

He stood, walked to the window, eyes scanning the horizon like she might still be there.

She wasn’t.

He pressed his forehead to the glass, jaw tight.

He wasn’t supposed to care.

This wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

But God… it did.

It did. And now she was gone—no number, no last name, no trace.

Just that look in her eyes, and a kiss on the cheek he still hadn’t wiped off.

Maybe he’d try to find her.

Maybe he wouldn’t.

Maybe he’d go out tonight, smile for the cameras, play it cool, pretend like she didn’t matter.

But part of him already knew—

no matter how many cities he flew to, how many parties he showed up at, how many girls he kissed—

he’d be chasing a ghost with dimples.

And maybe, just maybe…

she was out there, thinking of him too.

author's note 🫧

hi, it’s me 🦋

this one was special — softer, longer🥲. i don’t know if it needs a part 2, or if it’s one of those stories that should just... stay exactly where it ended.

but i’d love to know what you think.

did it leave you wanting more?

or was that last kiss goodbye enough?

either way, if you wanna be on the taglist for part 2 (just in case 👀), drop a 🐚 or a 💬 below — and tell me your thoughts. it really means a lot.

thank you for reading 🩵

— @missbluee

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halfwayhearted · 3 months ago

Note

Jobe Bellingham fic where him and reader are seen together in public in the vip box for a Real Madrid match and everyone is seeing how sweet he's w her (laughing and sweet kisses). Also this is a warm family time, so like showing her yapping w Denise and Mark too would be cute

My Lover — Jobe Bellingham.

Pairing: Jobe Bellingham x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spending time with his family is the best way to spend your time; you really wouldn’t want it any other way.

Word Count: 655+

Disclaimer/s — Mentions offff, actually… wait, nothing!

A/N: THIS WAS SAURRRRRR STUPID CUTE FUCK IM SICK. I also don’t keep up with RMA matches but I did hear about Jude’s red card and wow, oooooookay dokay… anyways, hi! The ending was based off their win against Man City, I lowkey don’t know how I feel about this, but I hope you liked at least

The match was already incredibly intense, with numerous close calls, uncalled fouls, and, of course, goals. It’s what comes with the sport, you guessed. Still, it didn’t stop you from flinching and wincing every-so-often when something—

“What?! Did you see that?” Your boyfriend, Jobe, asked. He was at the edge of his seat, his hands gripping his knees until his knuckles turned white.

With a frown, you’re quick to reply, “Jobe, babe, it’s stressful, I know—but you need to relax,” you tell him quietly. “You’re only hurting yourself.”

Offering you a glance, his expression softens, and he shoots you a small, embarrassed smile, leaning back to place a quick kiss on your hair before relaxing his frame. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“What’s funny is Jude does the same thing,” his mom, Denise, remarks with a touch of feigned annoyance in her tone. “Got it from their father.”

You let a laugh slip past your lips as you look over at her. “They did! I think he’s doing it right now.”

The older woman glances over, and both of you burst into a full-on giggle fit at the realization that you were right. He was. He shifts his focus once he catches your gazes, his eyebrows knitting together in complete and utter confusion. Denise covers her mouth while you hunch over your seat, laughing uncontrollably and ignoring the comforting feel of Jobe’s hand rubbing your back.

The sight of the two of you in hysterics only adds to the humor, and his grin seems to widen more.

It was quite a sight, for sure. He couldn’t be more pleased to see his mom and his girlfriend getting along so well. He had already known that it would be a done deal, considering you and him have been together for a while and you and his mom have shared countless laughs with one another. Still, it didn’t stop him from feeling like it was the first time all over again. This was, well, everything.

“What? What are you guys laughing at?” His father questions, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Whatever it was must’ve been hilarious.

The man beside you gives a sheepish expression. “It’s nothing—it really wasn’t that funny, guys.”

“Speak for yourself,” you say with a sigh, sitting upright and trying to catch your breath. “Oh, my God.” You spare her another glance, quickly looking away when you realize you’ll continue to laugh in their faces. “He’s right, it was nothing!”

Denise nods. “Just continue watching the game.”

As soon as you all focus back on the match at hand, there’s a foul called, causing both Jobe and you to furrow your brows. It all happened so fast that his dad saying your name, asking what happened, made you turn to him. “He stepped right on the back of his heel. Look—” you pause, pointing to the screen with a grimace. “Ouch.”

“How reckless!” He exclaims. “Did they call it?”

Jobe peeks over your head. “Not this time.”

The man takes the answer with a frown, turning his attention back to the pitch right when Vinicius races through on goal, darting in front of an opposing player. Their keeper rushes out, but he lifts the ball over him. It’s going wide, but Jude is already there to tap it into the empty net and…

GOAL! During the ninety-second minute. A win!

The four of you jump up from your seats almost immediately, cheers erupting from your lips. The stadium, once extremely tense, is now completely alive with excitement and overflowing with joy.

Seeing his brother’s celebration was enough to make him chuckle amidst the chaos. He threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. You laugh against him, your own arms quickly wrapping around him. “He showed up!”

“Of course he did,” Jobe replied shortly after, placing a delicate kiss on the crown of your head.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedriache + @spidybaby + @lechrts + @levidazai + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ (errrr, again, this is from a bit ago, hello!)

#jobe bellingham #jobe bellingham x reader #jobe bellingham x fem!reader #jobe bellingham x you #jobe bellingham x y/n #jobe bellingham fluff #jobe bellingham comfort #jobe bellingham blurb #jobe bellingham imagine #jobe bellingham oneshot #request #jilval #my lover - birdtalker

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btssavedmylifeblr · 1 year ago

Text

Void - Part 10 - Wednesday

title banner by @rude–jude♡

Genre: Sci-fi with a little angst and a LOT of smut

Pairing: BTS x Reader (yup - all seven)

Summary: You are the only female crew member on a 12 year space mission with seven handsome men. The sexual tension is real, y’all.

Word Count: 1.9k

Part 9 /?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Warnings: very short chapter

Mercifully, Taehyung does not wake you up with a thumb in your mouth. You wonder if you will even see him today, given he only signed the form to hide his feelings for Jimin.

You head straight for the greenhouse, determined to avoid Hoseok for as long as possible. Will you ever be able to face him again? Maybe you should start working nights.

Luckily, there’s plenty to do in the greenhouse and you manage to work all day without interruption. Dinnertime arrives and your stomach grumbles, but you procrastinate heading for the kitchen out of fear of who may be eating there. You can’t stomach bumping into any of the men you’re fucking or any of the men you aren’t.

At a little past seven o-clock, Taehyung sticks his head into the door of the greenhouse. He furrows his brow to see your hands covered in soil. “I thought we had a date?”

“Huh?” you ask, wiping the dirt from your hands onto your pants. “I thought that was pretend. For the benefit of the crew.”

Taehyung laughs, stepping further into the greenhouse. “Well, some of it was, but I did actually make dinner.”

“You did?” You aren’t dressed for a date. Not that you have anything else to wear. Just a different slightly less dirty jumpsuit. At least none of your clothing is covered in semen today. Yet.

Taehyung is wearing the same jumpsuit from the accident with the rover. It’s still missing a sleeve from where it was cut off of him. It’s quite flattering on him, no surprise. His exposed upper arm has just enough muscle definition to draw your attention. It’s still in the sling but the bruising has faded. The asymmetrical look with its rough unsewn edge makes him look rather roguish.

“Come on! The food’s getting cold!” He ducks back out of the greenhouse, waving for you to follow him.

You clean your hands with a cloth and follow him. You're surprised when he veers away from the kitchen and heads for the hangar instead.

The overhead lights in the hangar are off. The room looks so different, it takes you a minute to process what you are seeing. The Europa rover sits in the middle of the room, glowing from the inside with soft blue light. Scattered around the room are little twinkling lights of white and blue and green.

“Taehyung!” you gasp. “What is all this?”

“A date!” he answers triumphantly. He clambors up onto one of the large wheels of the rover and opens the door. Even from a distance, you can see a white tablecloth covering the center console, topped with more twinkling lights. He reaches down a hand to help you up. “Your chariot, m’lady.”

“This is…” You are at a loss for words as you take his hand and climb up into the rover with him. “This is so…” You examine one of the twinkling lights on the make-shift table up close. It’s one of the LEDs intended for lighting your paths down on the Europa ice sheets. At least it was rechargeable. "Taehyung, this is so much work for a fake date.”

Taehyung laughs. “Just because we’re not bumping uglies, doesn’t mean it can't be a real date. I like dates.”

He pulls out a reusable water bottle from behind one of the seats that makes a surprising pop when he opens it. Then he pours something golden and bubbly into two champagne glasses.

Without thinking, you take accept glass as he hands it to you, then do a double-take. “Is this champagne? Where on Earth did you get champagne? Or champagne glasses?”

He laughs, enjoying your surprise, as he takes a sip from his own glass. “Unfortunately, it’s not the real stuff, just some apple juice I ran through the carbonator.” He clinks his glass to yours as you hold it, still suspended in shock. “The glasses are from Earth though. Packed them for a special occasion.”

He stares a bit wistfully at the glass in his hand and you get a little pang of sadness. “Were you planning this for Jimin?”

He looks up at you and shakes his head, waving your concerns away. “No, no, no. I did this for you.”

“For me?”

He nods. “I’m trying to make amends.”

You’re surprised. “Amends for what?”

He sighs. “For the tape, for the jealousy, I feel like…” He gestures around at the ship in general. “I feel like a lot of this is my fault.”

“What? No.” You shake your head. “This is my fault. I started all this.”

Taehyung gestures to one side of the console table welcoming you to sit down. “It seemed like you and Jimin were happy though, until I broke my arm and messed everything up.”

“Yeah…” You sigh as you sit down across from him. You sip your fake champagne as you remember orgasming with Jimin inside you, but Yoongi’s voice in your head. “Mostly… but there was something missing…”

“Ah,” Taehyung gives a bit of a teasing smile. “A certain flight engineer, perhaps?”

“Yeah,” you shrug nervously, running your finger around the rim of your glass and teetering on the edge of admitting your real problem. “And not just him…”

Taehyung nods knowingly. “We do have a devastatingly attractive crew, don’t we?”

“Yes!!” You exclaim, laughing in relief at someone who finally understands. “Why did you all have to be so fucking hot?!”

“All of us?” He places a hand on his chest in fake surprise.

“Oh shut up, you know you’re hot.” The bubbles in your glass make you feel a little tipsy even if there's no alcohol in them.

Taehyung gives an exaggerated wink, then laughs. "You are very good at seeming uninterested in anyone though. I couldn’t believe how well you held it together when Jungkook stripped in front of you for that haircut.”

A lightbulb goes off. “Oh my god, you put him up to that, didn’t you?”

Taehyung bursts into delighted giggles and you smack him on his good arm. “You did! You maniac! Are you trying to kill me?”

“Not my finest moment, I will admit. Perhaps I had ulterior motives for throwing the hunk at you. Sorry. Just one of many reasons I owe you apologetic fake champagne.” He takes another sip and smiles as he recalls the memory. “Still, you kept your cool remarkably well. If it were me, I would have had his dick in my mouth well before the end of that haircut.”

Your mouth falls open. Fuck. That’s… that’s a very attractive mental image. Your pelvic muscles flinch with a twinge of arousal.

Taehyung sees your surprise and his eyes widen. “Oh shoot, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He takes your glass from you and sets it down on the table, before turning to rummage with something in a cooler sitting under the seat next to him.

“Oh no.” You squirm in your seat. “I’m not… you didn’t…” you stammer. Fuck. What are you even trying to say? “I just didn’t realize you were attracted to Jungkook as well.”

Taehyung turns back to you and smiles. “I mean… how could you not be? That smile… those abs…”

You both sigh in unison, then laugh. “It’s deeply unfair,” you agree.

He nods, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s deeply unfair is how you have this crew wrapped around your finger.”

“What? No I don’t.”

He arches an eyebrow.

“I don’t!”

He sips his apple juice skeptically.

“No seriously! Hoseok and Namjoon won’t have sex with me even though I practically begged them…”

He shakes his head. “I still don’t think you realize the power you hold.”

“What power?”

“I saw that video you made with Yoongi. That was incredible. When you let go of all the fear and stress and were so open and vulnerable, that was beautiful. It’s no wonder they all love you.”

Something about hearing it from someone you’re pretty sure doesn’t want to have to sex with you makes you feel like it might really be true. But the whole thing is still too embarrassing and uncomfortable to think about for too long.

“They’re not in love with me. They’re just… I don’t know… can we talk about something else?”

“Sure.”

Taehyung sets down two plates of what looks like fine dining. Red beets sliced thin and drizzled with balsamic vinegar and a rounded mound of rice pilaf topped with a whole chicken breast.

“My god, where did you get all this?”

He smiles, pleased with himself. “Jin helped me with a bunch of it. I’ve technically given up two of my Christmas dinners for this, but it seemed worth it.”

You are shocked again that he would go to so much effort. “You didn’t have to do all this just for the sake of our pretend relationship…”

He reaches over the table to take your hand in his. “I do want a real relationship with you though,” he says and your heart starts racing. His dark eyes hold such warmth even as the rest of him is so statuesque. But then he draws back. “Even just as a friend.” he says and you’re a bit disappointed.

The two of you chat the rest of the evening as you savor your meal, both relieved to find someone you can be honest with.

At one point you offer to mend his jumpsuit sleeve for him, but he declines. “I like it," he says, shrugging. "Reminds me of important lessons."

You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. "I suppose it is rather dashing," you admit, trying to fill the silence. "But I suppose you would make a dish towel look dashing." You can't even blame the fake champagne for your loose tongue.

His eyes widen in delight and he laughs as he pours the last of the bubbly apple juice into each of your glasses.

“So…” he says as you take a last bite of your dessert, a delicious chocolate cake designated for some future New Year’s Eve. “Fuck, marry, kill: Namjoon, Jimin, Yoongi.”

You gasp in horror. “Taehyung, I can’t answer that!”

“Too violent? How about fuck, marry, kiss?”

“No way, not answering.” You mime zipping your lips closed.

“I’d marry Jimin, obviously.” He continues, undeterred. “And I think I’d have to fuck Yoongi. Those hands… my god.”

“Ugh…” Just the memory makes you groan and collapse onto the table in front of you. “Tae, he’s so good with them. It’s terrible. Those goddamn hands are what started this whole mess.”

Taehyung is pleased to have finally cracked through your facade. “Though the commander… he just carries himself like he has a big dick, you know?”

“Agh…” you groan again, laughing as you stand up. “I think that’s my cue to go to bed.”

“Allow me, m’lady.” He stands up and takes your hand to help you out of the rover. He’s still holding your hand as the two of you reach the floor of the hangar.

“Thank you again for all this.” You gesture at the twinkling lights spread over the floor, looking especially lovely now that most of the ship has gone dark.

“Would you mind a platonic goodnight kiss?” He asks, tapping his cheek.

You bite your lip and shake your head, feeling a whole storm of butterflies in your stomach that do not feel platonic at all. He leans in and gives you a soft kiss on your cheek. “Thank you for a lovely evening,” he murmurs close to your ear.

“Same time next week?” you ask, trying to fight down how on fire your face feels now. “I’ll cook next time.”

He grins. “Looking forward to it.”

______

Thursday is next! And it's going to be dramatic. Hopefully it will be ready soon! Thanks for reading!

#taehyung x reader #ot7 x reader #void

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cosmicpearlz · 8 months ago

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end up here

summary: how does one fix a broken patch in a marriage? fake smiles in public and secret animosity behind closed doors doesn't help anyone.

pairing: jude bellingham x reader

waking up in the morning, you turned your head. finding the empty spot that would've been where your husband laid. you turned back towards the wall and sighed to yourself. the argument that should've only lasted one night with apologizes following later, was going on two weeks now. you stretch your arms and legs out before removing the duvet from your body. stepping into your slippers, you head downstairs to the kitchen.

jude stands shirtless, pajama pants hanging just below his waistline. making two cups of coffee. he heard your footsteps but refused to look at you. a painful reminder of what your shared mornings used to be.

"good morning," you mumbled. almost like a quiet whisper that travels through the cold feeling kitchen.

"good morning. i made you a cup of coffee," jude finally turns and meets your eye for a brief second. looking back down, he stretches the cup to you.

"thank you. aren't we meeting with your family today? and then you have camp for england coming up, right?"

"yup," is all jude said before walking away with his own coffee cup. you couldn't believe this is what your marriage has come to. one-word answers and cold shoulders. to think you guys were happy before the argument. an argument that you both couldn't even remember how it originally started.

you and jude walked hand and hand to the front door. not wanting his family to see this rough patch that you guys were going through. you wanted to save the warmth that his hand gave you and put it in a box. missing the affection that was always shared. jude secretly felt the same, he just missed his wife but the pride he carried was too high at the moment. not wanting to be the first to apologize. even though he uttered hurtful words like you had.

"my babies!" denise smiled brightly and pulls you both into a hug. "how was the flight?"

"long. so stupidly long and i'm still jetlagged," you dramatically pouted your lips.

"well come in and relax for a bit darling, lunch is almost ready." jude loved the way you interacted with his family. it made his heart grow twice in size, seeing how soft you became. continually bringing out the side of you he loved seeing every day.

"you alright mate?" jobe asked his brother. following his gaze where they see you talking to their mum and dad.

"just fine," jude lied to the younger boy, pulling him into a hug and pressing a kiss to his head.

jude and jobe head to the living room, sitting down and watching tv. mark soon joins them, leaving you and denise in the kitchen. you sit on the dining room chair and lean your elbows on the table.

"how are you really feeling?"

"i'm okay, works been busy."

"y/n, i mean how are you and jude doing?" she turns to look at you with a raised eyebrow. you groaned and put your head down into your arms.

"is it that obvious?"

"a little. but it's only because i know you guys. always very affectionate and now it's limited to just hand holding." you almost hate how much his mom knew your relationship so well. "talk to me my love." denise puts the pot to a simmer and takes a seat across from you.

"we got into an argument two weeks ago. i don't even remember what the argument was about at this point! we've said some pretty hurtful things and now it's just not the same."

"marriage isn't going to be perfect," she reaches over to grasp your hand. "you guys are probably just stressed and you haven't even got to properly enjoy your new lives as a married couple. this rough patch isn't going to last but it will if you can't communicate with each other."

"but how do i talk to him when he said that we shouldn't have got married?" tears began to pool at your eyes, remembering how he said those hurtful words.

"honey, in no way does he actually believe that. he loves you so much and adores the ground you walk on. don't take this as me excusing what he said, because it was very insensitive and hurtful. what did you say?"

"i told him that maybe we shouldn't have gotten married. then i said that my life would be so much easier if i just never met him," you retold her exactly what you said. once the words come out of your mouth, it left a bitter taste. denise sighs and pats your hand that rested in her hand.

"you both were in the wrong. it should never have to come to this. you guys need to talk right now. end this and i promise you that everything will be okay. just talk to one another. you both love each other, right?"

"yes. i don't know what i'd do without him in my life truthfully."

"then communicate that."

not knowing that jude was having the same conversation with his dad and brother. you tried to compose yourself by wiping the stray tears that fell from your eyes. you missed your husband, and you just wanted to feel his touch once more. jude walked into the kitchen, sending a small smile to his mum.

"can i talk to you love?" jude whispered softly. you nodded and placed your hand in his outstretched one.

entering his childhood bedroom, you both sat on the bed. you've been in here many times over the years that you guys dated. it was silent for a while, choosing to look at the walls of the room instead of speaking. it never used to be awkward with jude. everything always flowed naturally, it's what you loved about him.

"i'm sorry-"

"i'm so sorry-"

you both share a light chuckle. not expecting to speak at the same time. even though, it was something that happened often.

"i'm sorry y/n. i didn't mean what i said. marrying you has been the best decision i ever made. getting to wake up and see you next to me or coming home from a hard day and falling into your embrace. truthfully, i fall more in love with you every day. these past two weeks have been completely shitty in comparison to what our normal routine is."

"i feel the same jude. god, i wish i could take back what i said. i don't know what i would do without you. you keep me grounded and sane. you're the best thing that's happened to me. i'm sorry that my pride got in the way of loving you. nothing should ever come in the way of us being in love. it's hard going to sleep without speaking or cuddling."

"my pride got in the way too. we've both hurt each other and i don't want to continue down this path. i love you too much to simply give up now. i miss my beautiful wife."

"and i miss my beautiful husband." jude laughs softly, as you wipe more stray tears. he wasn't laughing at you crying but laughing at the fact that, even with tears and a horsed voice, he found you to be the most precious thing in the world.

"c'mere," jude says, opening his arms as an invitation. you didn't think twice before crawling into his arms. sitting in his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. his arms wrap around your waist, and you began to cry into his neck. rocking you back and forth, it sends tears of his own to fall onto his cheeks.

"i'm so sorry baby. i don't ever want it to get to this point again," he whispered into your ear.

"me neither," you hiccupped out. jude pulls away from the hug, just to see your face. he takes his free hands and wipes your tear-stained cheeks. once he's finished, he keeps one hand on your cheek and moves the other to rest on your waist. you leaned into his touch, missing the way it felt against your skin.

"still as beautiful as ever."

"even with red eyes and a snotty nose?"

"especially with red eyes and a snotty nose, are you kidding me? you're the prettiest girl."

"you're just saying that because you're my husband," you chuckled to yourself.

"i say it because it's true and i mean it. being your husband is just a plus."

"i love that you're my husband. i also love that we can go back to normal, goodness gracious i missed you so much."

"i love you so much and will continue to do it for the rest of our lives," jude kisses the tip of your nose and then places a kiss to your forehead. pulling you back into a tight hug.

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham angst

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dontexpectmuch · 1 year ago

Note

Jude with a mechanical engineering student, and she's working on f1 and is a good friend of the drivers and jude gets jealous and hard launches at a race? She works for redbull and is friends with the real Madrid guys, ty, God bless

jude is aware of how much attention he gets, no matter where he goes or whom he talks to. so many people shy away from talking to him due to all the eyes that were on him, yet he tries to stay positive and look at the bright side of the picture. as a rising star, it can be hard to meet someone that would willingly hide their relationship from the world, though when he got to know you, he felt like his prayers have had finally been answered.

it was the miami grand prix he had been invited to, ferrari have shown their interest about his appearance multiple times and when his other friends finally had the time to come along, he immediately went to the race and enjoyed his time there.

it was also the place where he met the cute engineering student that was walking out of the rivals garage, cute cap with the official team shirt on, baggy pants and a book in hand. he sneaked away from the group and followed you to the water fountain in the middle of the two garages, desperately trying to look cool yet uninterested.

so when you two fall into a conversation [slight argument] about the team and who would win the race, jude knew that he had to keep in touch with you, exactly what he did.

now, two years later, the two of you have been in a private and secret relationship, something both of you enjoyed at the beginning. the relationship blossomed quietly, only his most trusted friends knew about it, same with you. having an intelligent partner who works for one of the best sports team ever is something that jude is incredibly proud [and turned on] of, it’s like a match made in heaven. no one could disturb your little bubble of happiness and peace, and you would like to keep it that way as long as you can.

but these days, jude really wants to post about his relationship, just to mark his territory. just to let all of those sneaky, weird, [and attractive, fuck] drivers know that their ‘friend’ slash engineer was off the market.

especially now, when all you talk about is the garage and the people you work with.

“well, and then i told max to-“

you immediately stop talking when you hear jude let out an annoyed sigh, eyes wide as you look at your boyfriend.

the atmosphere around you is quite comfortable, you’d say, or at least it is to you. it has been quite some since you were able to sit down and have a nice, home cooked meal together. normally your schedules clash during the week, and weekends were spent outside the house, exploring new places and trying new things.

and normally, jude would love to hear you talk about your week, about the new stuff you learned that he definitely did not understand, but the sparkle inside your eyes made it all worth it. he didn’t know why he is so annoyed about you talking about the person you literally work with, more likely work for, but just hearing the name drop from your lips makes him want to go and shoot a ball at all of their heads.

“uh, you okay, my love?” your concern for him makes jude melt, and he wishes that he could just ignore this negative feeling growing inside of him, yet he simply can’t.

he shrugs, corners if his lips turning slightly down, “don’t know, why don’t you ask your little friend max. that’s what you always do, right?”

he knew that this was the moment he royally fucked up, no turning back now.

when you frown and look at him with those confused eyes, jude gets even more worked up than he should.

as if you don’t know what he is talking about.

“i beg your pardon, jude?”

you called him ‘jude’, meaning you were also getting worked up about the situation, well, his behavior.

he scoffs again, getting up from the table to put his empty plate away.

it was delicious, he would say, but right now he just wants to be pissed about this whole situation [that he started].

you copy his movements, actually quite sad that your usual chat time after eating is interrupted by this petty argument.

“hey, ‘m talkin’ to you.” your confusion does not seem to go away, no matter how you try to look at the situation. jude simply takes your plate from your hands and places it inside the dishwasher, before he dries his hands to continue the conversation [discussion].

“all ‘m sayin’ is that you love to be seen with your little racer buddies instead of with me.” he moves out of the kitchen back to the dining table to pick up the other dishes and the drinks.

“what the fuck?” is all you can say about his statement as you take the drinks from his hands to put them into the fridge, “what do you mean i ‘love to be seen’ with them? i work with those people and actually get along with them, just like you do with your teammates.”

the tension [not the hot one] between you rises by the second and jude is once again walking around the apartment, “that’s not the same.”

“the fuck you mean it’s not the same? it literally is?”

a few minutes ago jude would have [maybe, probably not] admitted that he might have gone too far with what he had said to you, but now seeing you getting so offensive about something that bothers him, he no longer feels like he should back off. instead he wants to win this, he wants you to understand that he is right and that you being seen with others could be, no it is, disrespectful to your relationship.

“you are my girlfriend, why would you want to be seen with other guys?!” raising his voice was something he rarely did whenever you guys argued. he preferred to keep calm in order to avoid hurting you in any way. but right now, his voice was getting louder with each argument he made, heating up the whole conversation even more.

you genuinely did not understand why he would come up with this argument all of a sudden, it is not the first time that you are seen at max’ side at races or maybe even next to others. you had a healthy relationship with most drivers and pleasant conversations with them in between races and breaks. everyone knew that you are the intern who will soon work for the redbull racing team, and jude actually was the one to be the proudest of you. it is literally how and where you guys met.

“the reason why i am seen with them is because, one; i work with them. we have to talk a lot because of the development of the car and i still have to learn a lot from the other engineers. two, i get along with them, you know, like normal co workers do, because, fuck, why not? you know all of this.” you feel your throat straining with how much and how loud you are talking, but the rage inside of you somehow numbs the pain.

“so people thinking that you are dating one of them also comes with the job, yeah?”

jude now stands tall in front if you, nostrils flared and eyes wide. he isn’t mad at you entirely, he knows it, but more like at the situation and the people that dare to pair you with someone that is not him.

but you cannot know that he isn’t mad at you, because in your eyes it seems like he is blaming you for the stuff the media puts into the news. your heart beats faster than ever and this whole situation makes your head spin.

“i don’t control what the media says? like, it’s not in my hands? to them i am a single woman who is successfully working for a motorsport team, rumors are bound to happen?”

“well, there is always some truth behind rumors, right?”

something inside you snapped, “what about you, huh?!”

jude almost flinched when you suddenly raised your voice at him, a sight he has never seen before.

“you also get paired up with a new woman every fucking day, jude. do you see me complain about it? no! because i trust you.” right now, you really wished to cry. was it that hard to understand?

the comfortable atmosphere from a few minutes ago vanished entirely, coldness and a bitter feeling on your tongue seem to have replaced it. during the two years you and jude havr spent together, you never had such an argument to this extent.

“but i am never pictured next to those people! i never even talked to them ever in my life!”

suddenly still, your eyes widened, mouth dry as you speak up, “are you accusing me of cheating on you?”

silent.

jude looks at you with his mouth open, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

“no, never…” the stark contrast between your voices now compared to just a second ago is almost cinematic, as if you had practiced this scene multiple times already. silently looking at one another, eyes dancing around the others faces in order to understand what just had happened.

“do you also think that way when i talk to aurelien and eduardo?” your voice breaks as you speak up, a defeated feeling replaces the rage inside, “do you actually think like this of me?”

judes shoulders sack down as he listens to you speak, this is absolutely not something he ever thought of, nor would he ever dare to accuse you of such thing.

he wants to speak up, yet you quickly cut him off, “just for your information, to the media and the rest to the world, we both are single individuals who don’t even know each other. and all the guys on the grid know that i am a taken person, they would never do such thing.”

you scoff as you shake your head, turning around to go to the front door.

jude panics as he watches your fast steps, immediately following you, “what- uh, where are you going?”

you quickly put on your shoes and put your bag on your shoulders, not in the mood to continue any of this, “wanna go home.”

“but this is home-“

your head snaps to his direction, eyes cold, “apparently not. at least not now.”

jude closes his hand around your wirst, not wanting you to go away when the situation between you is so heated.

“let’s find a solution, babe, c’mon.” he begs, voice husky and desperate. he did not know that it would escalate like this, but now he regrets to even bring up this topic.

you sigh, all of this arguing took a toll on you and now you want to do nothing more but lay in your bed and not to think of anything anymore.

inhaling deeply, you look at jude, his big brown eyes never left yours anyway, and he truly does look like he wants to fix this, which you do too.

“listen,” you begin, taking one last deep breath, “you cannot accuse me of such thing and then expect me to do nothing about it-“

“i don’t want you to do anything, just, let’s stop arguing.”

scoffing, you tighten the grip on your bag, “you started all if this because apparently, you do not trust me, jude.”

“it’s babe-“

“it’s jude right now, don’t test me.” you threaten him, not in the mood for his little jokes.

shaking your head, an almost mocking laugh leaves your lips, “we decided to keep our relationship a secret. you, by the way, wanted to do it this way the most. i would have launched our relationship ages ago, because i trust you and i trust our bond. y’know, communicating and stuff.”

judes voice cracks slightly as he speaks up, deep sigh leaving his body as he tries to hold your hand, a sign that he is getting desperate, “i trust you, too, babe. ‘t’s just- i don’t know, like, rumors and shit and i don’t want you to have reporters on your neck at all times, y’know.”

you frown at his words, “but that does not explain why you literally sprung at me for mentioning max, or the others. when we first started dating, i already knew what would come along with being with you, and i would take it all, jude, everything.”

jude smiles at your words, now looking down at your hands, so you continue, “all those annoying rumors about me, people following me and what not, i genuinely will take it all, because i love you. not max, not lando nor charles or whomever you’re jealous of.”

“i ain’t jealous.” he rolls his eyes, slowly stepping closer to you.

“don’t lie to me, belli.” you smirk at him.

jude chuckles, his thumb dancing across your knuckles help you to be at ease.

“soo.”

“sooo?” you look at him confused, waiting for him to continue.

“do we just post a picture together? or like, do a sex tap-“

“shut it.” you pinch his waist, chuckling as he squirms away from your touch, “we will do a, hm, maybe a soft launch? yeah, something like that.”

jude groans, throwing his head back, “that takes way too long.”

“well,” you shrug, “ that’s what you get for literally yelling at me for doing my job.”

“and i’m sorry, love.” judes hand now caresses your cheek softly, head tilted down as his bog brown eyes apologetically look at yours, “next time, i will calmly ask you about something that bothers me, okay?”

“okay.” you smile at him, leaning into his touch.

“you have a race this weekend, no?”

“yeah, in belgium this time, why?”

“just because.”

“still trouble in paradise?” you hear landos [annoying] kind voice from behind you, making you draw your eyebrows together.

turning around, you tilt your head in question, “wait, how do you know?”

lando innocently smiles at you, shrugging his shoulders, “max and i are somewhat besties, y’know.”

“max.” you grumble, already planning on how to get your revenge from him.

“so? everything okay now?” lando questions again, this time in a slightly more serious manner than before.

“it’s always okay between us, just rocky at times.” you tell him, not stopping yourself from smiling when you think of your boyfriend.

lando nods his head at something behind you, “seems like goal-machine over there still wants to rip off my head, though.”

“goal-machine-?” you turn around and are immediately met with the sight of jude leaning against some tires in the garage.

he looks good, you must admit. sunglasses on too of his nose, oversized shirt with the first few buttons undone, night dress pants and matching shoes, a real snack.

a snack that should not be here, or well, a snack you did not know that would be here. so, you bid your goodbyes to lando and walk closer to jude, coming to halt a fee steps in front of him.

“eh, hi?” you greet him, confused but happy.

he smiles down at you, taking off his glasses to get a better look at you, “hey there, sexy lady.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms in front of your chest, “not now, i am working, y’know.”

“chatting it up with little lad over there is quite some work, huh?” jude points at lando with his head, who still, you don’t know why, is standing inside the redbull garage, subtly [nit really] glancing at your direction every now and then.

“lando just likes to annoy me, nothing more.” you explain, smiling as you watch jude stand up straight.

“well, let’s annoy him back.” he smirks down at you.

“how-“

jude cuts you off by placing his soft lips on top of yours as his muscular arm sneaks around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. at first you feel like resisting, but the more he deepened the kiss, the more you could not get enough of it. tilting your head to gain better control, you feel up his chest before you place your hands at the back of his next, enjoying this public display of affection more than ever. maybe because it is the first time you’ve ever done something like this in a place like the garage-

you immediately push jude away, eyes wide open, “jude! there are cameras everywhere!”

he just smiles down at you, that little tease, before taking your hand into his, “you wanted to go public anyway.”

“i wanted a soft launch, though! i always wanted to soft launch a relationship.” you whine, moving closer to out your forehead against his chest in defeat.

“you can still soft launch it, love.”

you shake your head, still against his chest while you feel his hand move up and down your back, “no, let me grieve in peace, please.”

“love you too, babe.”

“shut it, you ruined my dreams.”

“you’re welcome.”

———————————————————————

enjoy 🥰

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #football x reader #football one shot #x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x you #football #jude bellingham fluff #f1 #f1 x football

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drowning-in-paragraphs · 6 months ago

Note

I loved not again<333 would you think about making a part 2!?

IT TAKES A MESSAGE

a/n: I hope you like this part too!

jude bellingham x exgf!reader

warnings: okey this one has a (little bit of) angst.

summary: After months of holding strong, resisting the temptation of breaking the promise you two swore you’d keep, one hand gripping your phone, and other holding a glass of tequila, is just what you needed to silence the voice of reason. You told yourself not to press send, but the moment your thumb hovered over the screen, your resolve crumbled. And now, here he is, standing beside you so real that regret is nowhere to be found. You shouldn’t have sent that message, but maybe, just maybe, this is exactly where you were meant to end up.

PART 1: NOT AGAIN

The music in the bar was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the sound of your own thoughts. The dim lights cast everything in a haze, but that didn’t help either. You swirled the drink in your hand—a cheap tequila you didn’t even like—staring into the amber liquid as if it held some kind of answer.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to go this way.

You had a date. A proper one. A guy from your coworker’s circle—smart, funny, attractive enough. He’d suggested dinner at a cozy little place uptown, and you’d agreed, hoping for another fresh start.

But when the time came, you couldn’t do it. You’d stood outside the restaurant for fifteen minutes, staring at the entrance, your heart pounding. The idea of smiling politely, of pretending to care about someone who wasn’t him, had made you chest ache in the worst way.

So, you walked away and felt like shit.

The cab dropped you off at a bar you’d never been to, somewhere far from home, far from familiarity. You told yourself you’d just have one drink. Maybe two. But as the hours passed and the alcohol dulled the edges of your misery, you found yourself slipping.

Your phone was heavy in your hand.

You shouldn’t. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t. For months, you’d kept your promise—no texts, no calls, no accidentally running into each other.

It had been a long time. Months. You’d blocked him everywhere, and he’d done the same. You hadn’t seen him, hadn’t heard his voice. You should’ve been proud.

Instead, you felt hollow.

The tequila burned you throat as you took another sip, your finger hovering over his name in your contacts. You’d unblocked him just minutes ago, telling yourself it didn’t mean anything.

But it did.

And then you did the unthinkable.

“I hate you.”

Your thumb hit send before you could stop yourself.

The moment the message left your phone, panic set in. Your stomach twisted, your heart raced, and you cursed yourself under your breath.

What the hell were you thinking?

You stared at the screen, breath catching in your throat. Maybe he wouldn’t reply. Maybe he’d hadn’t blocked you or he had changed his number, or maybe he’d—

Your phone buzzed.

“What did I do now?”

Your breath caught. The sight of his name on your screen sent a jolt through your chest. The words stung with their casualness, as if no time had passed. You stared at the message, your heart pounding, your hands trembling. You could leave it. Ignore him. Pretend it never happened. But that wasn’t who you were.

“Existing. Leaving. Coming back.”

The three dots appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared.

“You drunk?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. Tipsy wasn’t drunk. You wanted to throw your phone across the bar. Instead, you typed back:

“No.”

Another reply, almost instant.

“Where are you?”

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. The smarter version of yourself—the one who’d spent months trying to move on—screamed not to answer. But the other part of you, the one that had sent the first text, the one drowning in whiskey and regret, won out.

“Blue lights. Why?”

He left you on read and thirty minutes later, he walked into the bar. You didn’t look up immediately. You felt him before you saw him, even in the dim light, he was unmistakable—tall, sharp jaw, the leather jacket fitting perfectly... You hated how your pulse quickened.

He spotted you immediately, his dark eyes locking onto yours as he crossed the room, approaching you slowly, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. His dark curls were now longer than you remembered, he had a beard now, and the faint scruff on his jaw made him look rougher, more tired. Your stomach twisted, and you hated the flicker of relief that coursed through you.

“You look like shit,” he said, sliding onto the stool next to you. It was a lie, of course—a flimsy one at that. The sight of you, even in the light light of this rundown bar, hit him like a sucker punch. Months without you, and now here you were, disheveled but infuriatingly magnetic. His pulse quickened, and he shifted uncomfortably as the denim of his jeans grew uncomfortably tight.

“Wow. Thanks,” you muttered, staring into your glass. You didn’t look up, but the faintest twitch at the corner of your lips betrayed a flicker of amusement—or maybe irritation. It was hard to tell with you, and Jude hated how much he loved that about you.

The bartender gave him a questioning glance, but Jude held up a hand. “Just water,” he said, before turning back to you. “How many have you had?”

“I’m fine, Jude,” you snapped, hating how small his concern made you feel.

“Sure, you are,” he said, his tone softer now. “So, what’s this about?”

You looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. The truth sat heavy in your chest, too raw to voice.

“Don’t do that,” he said, leaning in slightly. “Don’t shut me out after summoning me like a bloody genie.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “I didn’t summon you.”

“No? What would you call unblocking me to send that?” He gestured at your phone, his voice quieter, less biting.

“You had me unblocked too.” you tried to avoid his questioning, but he did not bite.

“What is going on, Y/N?”

The whiskey burned its way down your throat as you struggled to meet Jude’s gaze. His presence was suffocating and grounding all at once, the familiar pull of him as inescapable as gravity. He didn’t say a word as he reached over, his fingers brushing yours as he slid the glass from your hand. His movements were calm but firm, the unspoken message clear. You glared at him, but he didn’t flinch, setting the drink out of your reach with deliberate care.

Then, you took a deep breath, the words clawing at your throat, desperate to be spoken yet terrifying to release. You didn’t look at him as you said it.

“I had a date,” you admitted, the syllables falling like a fragile confession.

The air between you shifted instantly. Jude froze, his body going rigid as the words landed. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, his face schooled into a careful neutrality. But the tell was there—his jaw tightened just a fraction, and his fingers twitched, curling slightly against the counter as if trying to grasp something solid in the room.

“A date,” Jude blinked, his brows knitting together as the words sank in. The faintest flicker of something crossed his face—hurt, maybe anger—but he quickly masked it. “And you left him to come here?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “I didn’t even make it inside. I just… couldn’t do it. It felt wrong.”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his fingers tapping lightly against the counter. The muscles in his shoulders tensed under his jacket, and you could tell he was biting back a hundred different responses.

Wrong. The word echoed in his mind, carving into him like glass. He didn’t want to care about what you’d done or who you’d almost been with, but the thought of you sitting across from some stranger, smiling in that way that made the world feel brighter, or laughing at someones stupid jokes, was unbearable.

“What do you want me to say to that?” he asked finally, his voice low and rough.

You shrugged, staring into your hands. “I don’t know. Nothing, maybe. I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I hate that. I hate you for still being in my head.”

Jude exhaled sharply, running a hand through his curls. He wanted to say something cutting, something to push you away before you dug any deeper into the fragile balance he’d spent months trying to maintain. But he couldn’t.

Because the truth was, you’d never left his head either.

“You’re drunk,” he said finally, his tone gentler than before.

“I’m not drunk,” you shot back, your voice sharper now. “I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right. That’s why you’re here, texting me that you hate me instead of… what’s his name? The guy you were supposed to be with tonight?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

His voice was firm, but not harsh. There was something else there, hidden beneath his words—a need to understand, to place blame somewhere, anywhere, that wasn’t on himself.

You shook your head, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’m not doing this, Jude.”

A charged silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. His hand brushed yours on the bar, a fleeting touch that sent shivers down your spine. His voice, when it came, was quieter.

“You deserve better than this,” he said, his words softer but no less piercing.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Coming from you, that’s rich.”

His lips twitched, almost into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He studied you for another moment, as if debating whether to push further, before letting out a resigned sigh. “Come on,” he said, standing and holding out his hand. “Let’s get you home.”

You stared at his hand for a beat too long before taking it. His grip was warm, steadying, and you hated how it made you feel grounded.

The night air was crisp as you stepped out of the bar, the coolness biting against your flushed skin. Jude walked beside you, his hand hovering near your back but never quite touching. It was a strange kind of intimacy—protective, yet distant.

The cab he hailed arrived quickly. He opened the door for you, his hand brushing yours again as he guided you inside. He slid in next to you, his presence filling the small space.

You leaned back against the seat, your head buzzing not just from the alcohol but from the sheer weight of the evening. The silence between you was deafening, filled with words neither of you dared to say.

The driver glanced at you in the rearview mirror but didn’t comment. Jude gave your address, his voice low and steady, and the car lurched forward.

The streetlights cast fleeting shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. You caught yourself staring and quickly looked away, focusing on the city lights blurring past the window.

“You’re quiet,” he said, breaking the silence.

“I don’t have anything to say,” you replied, your tone sharper than intended.

“Since when?” His voice held a hint of amusement, but it was tempered by something softer, almost tender.

You didn’t answer, crossing your arms over your chest and sinking further into your seat.

When the cab pulled up in front of your building, Jude paid the driver without hesitation. You opened your mouth to protest, but the look he gave you stopped you cold—firm, unyielding.

“Let’s get you inside,” he said, stepping out and waiting for you to follow.

The short walk to your door felt longer than it should have. You fumbled with your keys, your hands unsteady, and he reached out, gently guiding them into the lock. The small action made your chest ache, a reminder of how easily he could slip into the role of protector, of something more.

The door clicked open, and you stepped inside, the familiar scent of your apartment wrapping around you. Jude hesitated in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame as if he wasn’t sure he should follow.

“Are you coming in?” you asked, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

He didn’t answer right away, his dark eyes scanning your face. Then, with a sigh, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

The tension in the air was palpable as you set your purse on the counter and turned to face him. He stood near the door, his hands shoved into his pockets, watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

You turned to face him, suddenly unsure of what to say. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I know,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “But I’m not leaving you like this.”

The space between you felt smaller. The air felt warmer. And when you turned to face him, his eyes met yours with a mix of frustration and something softer, something that made your chest ache.

“Jude…”

His name slipped from your lips like a plea, and before you could stop yourself, you were closing the distance between you, your hands fisting in the leather of his jacket as you pressed your lips to his.

For a moment, he froze, his body stiff beneath your touch. Then his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer and the kiss deepened, your bodies pressing together, the heat between you building like a tidal wave. But, suddenly, his hands came up, caressing your arms till they gripped your shoulders firmly but gently as he pushed you back.

“No,” he said, his voice rough, breath uneven after the short kiss.

Your chest tightened, your lips missing the warmth of his. “You don’t want me anymore?”

His eyes darkened, his grip on your shoulders tightening slightly. “That’s not... Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” you asked, hating how your voice cracked.

“Because you’re upset. You’re tipsy. And you’re not thinking straight,” he said, his tone softer now. “And if we do this, you are not going to like it.”

“I always like it with you.”

His eyes softened for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. A small, suppressed smile tugged at the corner of his lips and a “Me too”. Instead, he let out a breath, his hands still resting on your shoulders, steady and grounding. “Y/N, I’m not going to let you regret this in the morning,” he replied softly, shaking his head slightly.

His words settled over you like a cold weight, and you hated how right he was.

“You should…, you should get some sleep,” he said, stepping toward the door.

“Jude?” you called, your voice barely above a whisper. He froze, his hand gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white. His shoulders stiffened, his heart thundering in his chest as he begged silently—prayed—that you wouldn’t say something to make this even harder.

“I hate you,” you said, and though the words spilled from your lips, they were hollow, stripped of the venom they once carried. Your smile followed, soft and heartbreakingly familiar, the kind that struck him like a blade, carving through the walls he so desperately tried to keep up. He felt his resolve shatter. You didn’t mean it. God, you didn’t mean it.

Slowly, he turned to face you, his gaze locking onto yours, raw and aching. He lingered, looking at every detail of your face, so he could sleep tonight. “I know,” he murmured, his voice trembling as his smile returned—a shadow of itself, fragile and fleeting. “I hate you too.”

And then, he left, closing the door behind him, carrying the weight of everything that was unsaid, but known.

#jude bellingham #hey jude #jb5 #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham comfort #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham one shot #jude #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude victor willliam bellingham #judeswifey #jb5 x reader #bellingham x reader #bellingham

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szoboobszlai · 11 months ago

Text

DOES HE KNOW?

pairing: ex-situationship!jude bellingham x female reader

warnings: none i guess

author’s note: hi! this is the first time i wrote something like this and also the first time i have ever written something entirely in english – since it's not my first language, you may find some grammar mistakes. anyways, hope you enjoy it! 🤍✨

edit: this is the first part of my one direction lyric-based writing series! you can find the full writing list here.

it was passing through jude’s head all night.

you, in that tight little skirt, were the only thing he could pay attention to – the other girls around him?

he didn’t even notice.

the only thing he noticed was the way you were dancing in that nightclub partnerless. that man you were going out with just didn’t show up? did you broke up this “thing” you had with him?

jude didn’t know.

in fact, you and jude were in a situationship for a few months last summer, in where he was on vacation from real madrid. nothing that serious for any of you – he was a world class player and you knew that you shouldn’t involve with this kind of man; you weren't a football groupie, after all.

he felt different, but never told you.

after he went back to madrid to restart the intense training routine, he knew that you started going out with another man; people told jude that you were with this guy named josh, and he actually saw both of you in a party a few weeks before.

jude knew the man knows a few things about you: your secret tattoo, your favorite band, the songs that you sing when you’re all alone.

but you’re not with josh tonight.

does he know that you try to hide your smile when jude bellingham catch your eye and see you looking at him?

does he know you can move like that just for jude to see it?

jude bet he didn’t.

— uh... hey. — he said when he got closer to you on the dance floor.

— hi, jude. — you answered, trying to not seem so nervous; it was jude bellingham, after all.

you knew he was that magnetic, with his dark eyes that could see through your soul and that strong and elegant woody scent you already knew.

you face each other for a while; his gaze gave you goosebumps, and you had exactly the same effect on him.

— it’s been a while, right? — he says shyly, almost afraid of your answer. — so... have you been alone tonight?

— yes, it’s been a while. i only see you in your games through the TV. — you confess. — and yes, i’m on my own tonight.

your red-lined smile made jude’s heart skip a beat; so you have been cheering on him last season, even with him playing on a team in another country?

actually, it was pretty nice for him to hear it.

— doesn't josh get jealous when he sees you watching to another men on TV? — jude asks. doesn't he get jealous when he sees you watching jude on TV? doesn't he get jealous seeing you cheering for a man that still wanted you so bad?

— i didn't care if he jealous or not, actually. — you answer, for jude’s surprise. — josh knew a lot about me, but nothing about me.

the silence between you overcame the loud music that echoed through the walls of the nightclub.

— how could him know you head to toe and yet don't know nothing about you?

— well... he’s not you, jude.

he knew that. jude bellingham knows you inside and out; he memorized every single detail of your face, the songs that you sing when you're all alone. everything about you.

the way you talked got him mesmerized.

the way he looked at you, with his lips slightly open, while the song was playing loudly on the background, got you thinking about how much you missed being in his arms.

as if jude was reading your mind, he closes the space between both of you, sealing your lips with a peck that turned into a loving kiss.

the way his hands fit perfectly in your waist, tracing every inch of your body, was making you insane.

the way he kissed your neck passionately, even if you were in the crowd, showed that he barely cared about being the worldwide famous footballer.

tonight, he was just yours.

does he know that you wanted him so bad?

#one direction #jude bellingham #real madrid #football #soccer #bellingham x reader #Spotify

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dorabellingham · 5 months ago

Text

Darling, are u ready?

warning: sexual intentions

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: where later spend a lot of time admiring you he decides to take an initiative

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a quiet night in Madrid, and your apartment was immersed in an almost magical calm. The soft light of the living room illuminated the environment, while the open windows let in the distant sound of the city, mixed with the warm spring breeze. You were on the couch, dressed in cotton shorts and a strap blouse, loose, which showed the delicate curve of your shoulder. Your bare feet were resting on the arm of the sofa while you read a book, totally unrelated to the world.

Jude was in the kitchen, finishing putting away the dinner dishes. He watched you from afar, his eyes darkening as he studied without you noticing. The way the golden light reflected on your skin, the lazy curve of your lips as you turned the pages of the book - everything seemed to hypnotise you. He couldn't explain, but there was something that night, something in you, that made him feel like you were living in a dream that he never wanted to wake up.

He dried his hands on the towel and walked to the couch. You noticed his presence only when he stopped next to you, his eyes moving from the book to find his. There was something in his eyes that made his heart race.

-Are you going to stay there ignoring me while reading this book, or do I have to do something to get your attention?

He provoked, his voice low, with a hoarse tone that sent chills down your spine.

You smiled, closing the book and putting it on your lap.

-You always have to dramatise, Jude. I was waiting for you to finish playing chef.

-Play chef, hum? -He repeated, with a crooked smile. Jude leaned over you, resting one hand on the arm of the sofa while the other slid lazily down the side of your body, lightly touching your uncovered waist. -And what do I get for it? At least a thank you kiss?

Before you could answer, he approached, his lips hovering millimetres from yours. You felt his hot breath against your mouth, and when he finally kissed you, it was slow, deep and deliberate. You let the book fall to the floor while wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling it closer.

Jude took advantage of the moment and pulled you to stand up. You stood up, laughing against his lips, but he didn't seem willing to make room for any protest. In a quick movement, he pressed you against the wall next to the sofa. You gasped with the surprise, but the smile at the corner of your mouth showed that you were far from wanting to stop.

His hands slowly slid down your waist, going up under the strap blouse you wore.

-You know, right, sweetie? -Jude whispered, his voice hoarse and full of desire. -You're so beautiful that it hurts.

You felt your face heat up, even if you were already used to his sudden statements. Jude had this unique talent of making you feel like you was the only thing that mattered in the world.

-You say that just because you want something, Bellingham.

You answered, trying to sound playful, but the accelerated breathing and the way his hands touched you said something else.

He laughed low, his head tilted back before looking at you again, his dark eyes shining.

-Maybe I want to, but that doesn't mean it's not true.

With delicacy, but at the same time with a contained urgency, Jude pulled your blouse up, revealing the curve of your skin. He stopped for a moment, his eyes sweeping every inch before raising his hand to undo the bra closure. His touch was confident and gentle, and you felt your heart race.

When he finally spoke, the voice came out almost in a whisper:

-Are you ready for more, darling?

You bit your lip, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Jude had this power over you - the way he made you feel desired, as if it were the only thing in the world that mattered. You held his face with your hands, pulling him closer and murmured against his lips:

-I always am.

Your words seemed to set something on fire inside him. Jude bent down slightly, wrapping uou in his arms as he lifted you off the floor. You laughed, surprised, but didn't protest while he carried you down the corridor towards the bedroom. The sweating filled the air, and he couldn't contain the smile while looking at you, the messy curls and the expression illuminated by laughter.

He gently placed you on the bed, leaning over you while his lips sought yours again. The breathing of both was heavy, and the room seemed to be on fire with the energy that enveloped them. Jude drew a line of kisses through your collarbone, your hands exploring every centimetre of skin, while you closed your eyes, lost in the moment.

You pulled Jude closer, burying your hands in his curls while he muttered something against your hot skin - words in perfect English that at that moment, you could barely understand, but that sounded like poetry. And when he finally met your eyes again, everything seemed to stop.

-You are everything, Y/n. -He said, with such a raw sincerity that it made your heart tighten in your chest. -And I will never let you forget that.

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jude457 · 1 month ago

Text

jude watched the trailer and had a diabolical nsfw idea

okay but imagine

gihun never answers inho’s question. not after the unmasking. not after that awful, trembling, bare moment where inho—face fully exposed—asks, “do you still have faith in people?”

like it’s the last card he has to play. like he’s daring gihun to say no. and gihun just looks at him. doesn’t say a word. doesn’t give him anything.

gihun just snaps.

.just lunges. shoves him back with a force that makes inho stumble. rage rolls off him in waves. not uncontrolled—but terrifying in its focus. he drags inho into a twisted version of missionary, not soft or aligned but forced open, one leg hiked high, the other pressed flat, an arm pinned above his head against the nearest surface—wall? floor? armchair? doesn’t matter. gihun has him.

he pushes him down and takes him without hesitation, without mercy, like the only answer he’s willing to give is through action. fucks him hard—with heat, with rage, with grief—like he’s trying to erase the memory of that question with the weight of his body. inho’s already crying. already soft. his legs thrown up and shaking, hole wet and loose around gihun’s cock, slick noises every time gihun slams back in. inho thinks this is punishment. that this is what he deserves.

and then—halfway through—gihun slows down.

everything shifts. his thrusts get slower. deeper. more intentional. he presses in all the way and stays there, grinding just enough to keep inho gasping, overstimulated, totally gone.

and then he leans in, presses their foreheads together, and finally speaks.

“do you remember,”

thrust

“when you asked me if I still had faith in people?”

and inho panics. freezes. because this is it, right? he’s exposed, trembling, stretched full, completely vulnerable—and gihun is finally answering him.

he tries to turn his face away. but gihun grabs his jaw. forces him to look.

“no,” he says. “look at me.”

and then, with that same slow, merciless rhythm, he fucks the words into him—

“I still have faith in people.”

thrust

“because I still have faith in you.”

thrust

“I have faith that you’ll do the right thing.”

[screams]

#squid game #hwang inho #seong gihun #457 #squid game season 3 #the trailer has me fucked up again

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blank3tsin · 1 month ago

Text

BEST FRIEND? | PT. 1

jude bellingham

SUMMARY | you and jude were close, but his girlfriend celeste grew jealous, distancing him from you. after a game, jude reveals he broke up with her, but doesn't admit it's because of his feelings for you, leaving things awkward between you both.

YOU AND JUDE have known each other since childhood, your bond rooted in a shared connection to your cousin, Trent. Growing up, you idolized Trent and naturally wanted to follow in his footsteps, which is how you and Jude became close. While Trent saw you as the annoying tagalong at first, Jude didn't seem to mind.

Over time, your dynamic shifted—Jude became less of a friend-of-a-cousin and more of someone you could count on. Whether it was climbing trees, sharing secrets, or laughing until your sides hurt, Jude was always there, even when Trent wasn't.

That all started to change as the two of you grew older. You blossomed into your womanhood, and Jude got a girlfriend—Celeste. She didn't like the idea of you and Jude spending time together, seeing you as competition rather than just an old friend. The dynamic shifted, and what once felt like an unshakable bond began to unravel under the weight of jealousy and growing up.

Celeste made it clear that she didn't approve of your friendship, always inserting herself whenever you and Jude were together. At first, Jude tried to keep things the same, brushing off her insecurities with reassurances that you were just friends. But over time, the pressure got to him. He started pulling away—canceling plans, ignoring your texts, and treating you like a distant memory rather than someone who had been by his side for years.

You couldn't help but feel hurt and confused. Jude was always your safe place, the one person who truly understood you outside of Trent. Now, it seemed like you didn't belong in his life anymore, like you were being pushed out of a story you helped write.

The final blow came when Jude stopped showing up altogether, leaving you to wonder if the bond you thought was unbreakable was just a passing phase after all.

You couldn't understand why Celeste was so insecure. To you, Jude was nothing more than a friend—a childhood companion who felt more like a brother than anything else. At least, that's what you told yourself. What you didn't realize was that Jude didn't see things the same way.

For years, Jude had been captivated by you—your radiant smile, your quick wit, and the way you carried yourself with effortless grace. You were the one person who could make him laugh even on his worst days, and no one else could hold his attention quite like you. But Jude knew he could never admit these feelings to you. He couldn't risk ruining the friendship you shared or facing rejection.

So, he did the only thing he thought might dull the ache of wanting you: he got a girlfriend. Celeste was his way of pretending he didn't care, of convincing himself that he could move on. But no matter how hard he tried to focus on her, his thoughts always wandered back to you. And no matter how much Celeste demanded his attention, Jude couldn't stop his heart from racing every time you walked into the room.

"Why isn't Jude answering his phone?" Trent asked as he walked into the living room, his voice laced with irritation.

You tore your eyes away from the TV, raising an eyebrow at him. "Why are you asking me that?" you replied, your tone defensive.

Trent crossed his arms and gave you a pointed look. "Because you're usually the one who knows where he is. Did you two have a fight or something?"

You scoffed, shaking your head. "No, Trent. Contrary to what everyone seems to think, I don't have a tracking device on Jude."

Trent frowned, clearly not satisfied with your answer. "Well, something's off. He hasn't answered me all day, and that's not like him."

You shrugged, trying to ignore the pang of concern creeping into your chest. "Maybe he's just busy." But deep down, you wondered the same thing—why wasn't Jude answering?

"Probably his dumb girlfriend took his phone," Trent muttered, flopping onto the couch beside you. As he did, his movements jostled your leg, causing you to instinctively kick him lightly in response.

"Ow," he whined, clutching his shin dramatically.

"Don't be such a baby," you teased, rolling your eyes. "Maybe if you weren't so clumsy, you wouldn't get hurt so often."

Trent shot you a mock glare, rubbing his leg for emphasis. "I swear, you're more violent than you look."

"Only when provoked," you retorted with a smirk, turning your attention back to the TV. But even as the banter continued, your mind wandered back to Jude, and a knot of unease began to form in your stomach.

"We're going to Jude's game next week," Trent announced casually, stretching out on the couch.

"I'm not going," you replied flatly, not bothering to look away from the TV.

Trent frowned, sitting up slightly. "What do you mean you're not going? You never miss his games."

"Well, I'm missing this one," you said, your voice firm.

He studied you for a moment, narrowing his eyes. "Did something happen between you two? You've been acting weird lately."

"Nothing happened," you snapped, a little too quickly. "I just don't feel like going, okay?"

Trent didn't look convinced. "Right. Because it has nothing to do with his girlfriend being glued to his side the entire time, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way his words struck a nerve. "Believe it or not, Trent, the world doesn't revolve around Jude and his girlfriend. I've got other things to do."

"Yeah, sure," he muttered, leaning back against the couch. "But for the record, I think skipping is a bad idea. He'll notice."

"Good," you muttered under your breath. But deep down, you couldn't help but wonder if Trent was right. Would Jude even care if you weren't there?

YOU WERE NOW seated in the crowd, the noise of cheering fans echoing all around you. The stadium buzzed with excitement, but you felt out of place. You sat next to Trent, who was chatting animatedly with Jude's parents, Mark and Denise, seated on his other side. To your right was Jobe, Jude's younger brother, who was busy scrolling through his phone.

You tried to focus on the game, but your thoughts kept drifting. The energy in the stadium felt suffocating, and every time Jude's name was called over the speakers, a knot tightened in your stomach. Being here felt different now—awkward, like you didn't belong.

"Excited for the game?" Jobe asked suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You gave him a small smile, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "Yeah, of course," you lied, your gaze drifting back to the field.

But the truth was, you weren't sure why you even came.

His girlfriend definitely didn't want you here—you could feel it in the way her eyes had lingered on you when you walked into the stadium. It was like she was silently questioning why you had shown up at all.

What confused you even more was the fact that Celeste wasn't sitting with Jude's family. Normally, she was glued to his side, making sure everyone in the room knew she was his girlfriend. But tonight, she was nowhere to be seen in your section.

You glanced at Mark and Denise, who seemed unfazed, their attention entirely on the game. Trent, on the other hand, was oblivious as always, too busy laughing at something Mark had just said.

Still, the question gnawed at you. Why wasn't she here, sitting next to his parents, basking in the spotlight like usual? Something about her absence felt... off.

Suddenly, the crowd erupted, leaping to their feet in a wave of cheers and chants. "Jude! Jude! Jude!" they roared, their excitement electrifying the stadium.

You blinked, startled by the noise, realizing you hadn't been paying attention. Your gaze darted to the field, where Jude was being swarmed by his teammates, his signature grin lighting up his face as he celebrated the goal.

Next to you, Trent was on his feet, hollering like a madman. Mark and Denise clapped proudly, their smiles beaming with pride. Even Jobe had put his phone down to join in on the excitement.

You stayed seated, feeling out of place amidst the chaos. While everyone else was swept up in the moment, you were stuck in your head, wondering why it felt so hard to be here.

YOU AND TRENT, along with his family, were now standing on the pitch, waiting for Jude to finish whatever post-game obligations were keeping him busy. The stadium lights shone brightly overhead, and the smell of freshly cut grass lingered in the air.

You fidgeted nervously, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. It had been a while since you last talked to Jude, and the thought of facing him now made your stomach churn. What would you even say? Would he brush you off, or would it be like old times?

What struck you more, though, was Celeste's glaring absence. She was nowhere to be found, and you couldn't help but find it amusing that no one else seemed to notice. Mark, Denise and Jobe didn't mention her, and Trent certainly didn't care. It was as if her presence—or lack thereof—didn't matter to anyone here.

Still, the question lingered in your mind. Why wasn't she here? Celeste never missed a chance to claim her spot at Jude's side, yet tonight, she was completely absent. The thought made you smirk, just a little. Maybe this night wouldn't be as awkward as you thought.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you saw Jude approaching, his arms outstretched as he pulled his family into a warm hug. Laughter bubbled from the group, his parents beaming with pride as Jude said something that made Trent double over with laughter.

Your breath caught for a moment as you took him in. It had been a while since you'd seen him up close. His hair was damp with sweat, and his jersey clung to him from the effort of the game, but he looked happier than you'd seen in a long time.

You stood off to the side, unsure if you should step forward or stay where you were. Jude hadn't noticed you yet, and a part of you wondered if he even would. Still, you couldn't deny the familiar warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of him laughing so freely.

Jude finally broke away from his family, his eyes scanning the crowd as he made his way toward you. For a moment, it felt like time slowed down. The noise of the stadium faded, and all you could focus on was him. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the awkward silence that hung between you.

When his gaze landed on you, his expression shifted—surprise, then something more unreadable. He stopped a few feet away, his smile still in place but with an edge of uncertainty. "Hey," he said, his voice soft but carrying that familiar warmth.

You managed a small smile, feeling a strange mix of relief and tension. "Hey, Jude. Congrats on the goal," you said, your voice coming out steadier than you expected.

"Thanks," he replied, his eyes flicking to his family before returning to you. "I didn't expect to see you here. Thought you weren't coming."

The question hung in the air, but you avoided it, shrugging instead. "Changed my mind."

There was a brief silence, both of you unsure of what to say next. Jude glanced at his parents, then back at you, his expression softening. "It's been a while, huh?"

"Yeah," you said, a slight laugh escaping your lips. "Guess a lot has changed."

Jude nodded, his gaze flicking to the side, clearly trying to find something else to focus on. "You've been good? Everything okay?"

You hesitated for a moment, considering how much to share. Finally, you nodded. "Yeah, just... life, you know?"

Jude chuckled awkwardly getting ready to say his next words, "I broke up with Celeste."

What Jude wasn't going to tell you was the real reason he'd broken up with Celeste. The truth was, as much as he tried to convince himself that he could move on, the more he was around her, the more his feelings for you only deepened.

At first, he thought it was just a passing thing. He tried to suppress it, bury it beneath the surface, thinking that being with someone else would help him forget. But it didn't. If anything, having Celeste in his life only made those feelings for you stronger—more undeniable.

Every time she'd cling to his side, he couldn't help but compare the way she looked at him to how you used to. The way you'd laugh, the way your eyes would light up when you spoke about something you loved—it all stayed with him, even when he didn't want it to. Celeste never made him feel the way you did.

He tried to fight it for months, but it was futile. Eventually, he knew the only way to stop lying to himself was to end things with her, even if it meant dealing with the aftermath. The hardest part was knowing that you still saw him as just a friend—maybe that's all you ever would. But he couldn't keep pretending like his heart didn't belong somewhere else.

"You did?" you asked, surprised, your voice betraying the mix of emotions swirling inside you. "But you seemed happy with her."

Jude looked at you, the weight of his words hanging between you both, but he didn't confess what was truly on his mind. He didn't say how he'd realized the depth of his feelings for you, how every moment he spent with Celeste only made the truth harder to ignore. Instead, he simply shrugged, trying to mask the vulnerability in his eyes.

"I... I guess I just had to figure things out," he said, the words coming out more uncertain than he'd intended. "It wasn't about her, really. It's just... I needed to be sure of what I wanted."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. He was holding back—either not ready or unwilling to tell you what was really going on in his heart. You tried to push the thought away, not wanting to press him for answers he clearly wasn't ready to give.

"Well, I'm sure you did the right thing," you said, forcing a smile, though your mind was racing. "It's your life, Jude. You've got to make decisions for you."

His gaze lingered on you, searching for something, but he didn't say anything more. Instead, he simply nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

You both stood in silence for a moment, the unspoken words between you thick and heavy. And for all the things you wanted to say, you both just... didn't.

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