clov3sr - Tumblr blog

clov3sr · 1 year

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you're kidding this is so. cute. i'm going to strangle myself w my bonnet brb

hello, could you do a jude bellingham hot where he wins a final and has a fun night at the hotel with yn. please, kisses from Brazil.

thrill and adventure

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader [she/her]

warning(s): mentions of drinking

summary: the one where they celebrate jude winning the champions league final by roaming around their hotel

author's note: hi anon, thanks for the request and sorry it took a bit long. i hope you enjoy this one <3

now playing: world on wheels by duckwrth ft. kyle dion

"Say cheese for me."

Looking up away from his phone, Jude noticed Y/N recording a video in the direction of the elevator mirror. His face lit up, happy and animated. Suddenly, the attention he had reserved for the person on the other side of his phone was long gone. For now, and like he always did, he let it fall on his first person, Y/N.

Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he exclaimed, "Cheese!" Seeing as it was a video rather than a picture, Jude let that happiness and animation express themselves through the video. He bared his teeth through his flourishing smiles, stretching the words as he spoke to his partner, waving his arms with so much spirit and throwing up a peace sign every now and then. He was doing the most and all within reason.

Jude had managed to win the Champions League final with his dear club, a win that now came before any other win, major or small, that he'd ever achieved before. The happiness, the joy, the relief, the satisfaction of winning—they were colourful and voluminous, so much more than he had ever experienced before in his career, in his life even.

It was all so overwhelming and the only right way to contain it all was to do the exact opposite; Jude would express all his caved feelings in the moment and let them out for everyone to experience for themselves.

Her phone long put away, she let her eyes fall on the medal Jude was wearing. "I'm proud of you, y'know," Y/N placed her hands on his shoulders, letting her sight move from his chest to meet his glance. He was already smiling at her when the two met eyes, only encouraging Y/N to laugh a bit as she felt her lips curve up. "I know I've already said it but I just gotta let you know one more time," they poked his chest a few times, "You played so well today, so well. You deserve this. All of it."

"Thanks Y/N, I know." Jude let himself be vulnerable, falling close and comfortable into an embrace with his partner, placing a kiss by the side of Y/N's head before leaning his head against hers, the two swaying to the kind elevator music and their shared laughter.

His words were said with clear purpose. I know you're proud of me. Y/N always let Jude know she was proud of him. By attending his matches, by sending him those last minute messages before he was to head onto the pitch. Never questioning his ability but rather building up his confidence and mood with just a few words, letting him know that he was a good player with every passing day.

I know I deserved this win. She always let him know he was destined for success; to the trophies, the love from the supporters, to the titles of the best or the most gifted. That his hard work wasn't in vain or just to pass the time, that Jude was doing the right things and taking the right steps in his career and he would see so much come through with time. After all, the passing hours were only the start of it all.

"But, but, but, but..." Pulling away from the embrace, Jude took off his medal and placed it around Y/N's neck. He continued, moving her hair so the medal could rest well. "I can't say I would have all of this if it wasn't for you." When everything was in place, Jude observed Y/N: her timid facial expression, the medal simply on her and just thought wow. Softly, he commented, "Look at that! It suits you so well."

It was unfortunate that Y/N's name wouldn't be included with all the names of the players that won today's match—Jude felt like Y/N had won the match with him and the team. He knew to recognise her for everything she had ever offered him, for all that she was. His motivation, his support, his happy days. All that energy she put in him, Jude always took that and put it into his craft and let that grow into the success Y/N was always talking about.

He had to give credit where it was due. It was all because of her, his dearest Y/N.

Observing the medal in her hand, she hummed, "So this is like a what's yours is mine type shit?"

Jude let out a loud laugh, shaking his hand. He couldn't forget, too, that she was his laughter and comedy unintentionally. "I guess so."

"If that's what you want. Speaking of, what do you want to do, like, right now?" Y/N offered the floor to Jude. It was his day, his night, his month, his season maybe. She knew he was on cloud 9. He should get to choose what they should do. Besides, if she didn't ask him, he would've taken the opportunity to ask her.

"I don't know really," Jude exhaled a small breath, scratching the nape of his neck. "I haven't really thought about it y'know."

His eyes fell on the elevator screen by the door showing the hotel floors slowly going up. Heading up to his hotel room, Jude came to realise that the two wouldn't actually have anything interesting to do other. All there was to do was sleep. And Jude could sleep, the feeling distant in his eyes but he didn't want to; the adrenaline from the match was still present and wouldn't allow him to sleep off any unnoticed fatigue.

He felt obliged to do something, to celebrate this massive win some more. And that, eventually, was something he wanted to fall back into once again.

Y/N watched Jude head towards the elevator buttons, confused. And it was only deepened when he halted the elevator ride. Frowning, they wondered, "What are you doing?"

"I say let's not call it a night," Jude said with a shrug, a playful look soon maturing across his face. "I'm pretty sure everything here is 24 hours. Let's just roam around the hotel and do whatever we can find to do."

"And do what exactly?"

Rather than stopping on their floor, they pressed random buttons and let themselves reach a totally random floor. And as soon as the elevator door opened, they ran and ran and ran. Wherever Jude and Y/N could place their feet, where there lacked deadends, the two found their way together. Without care, passing by people while waving at them, saying a rushed sorry or excuse me, some with or without meaning whenever they bumped into someone.

They were like kids, unhinged yet full of excitement and wonder for the thrilling times the two were sharing together. Running through the hallways and dodging as many bodies as possible, finding the main hotel kitchen to have all chefs confused by their presence. Running into the restricted areas that, suddenly, weren't so restricted anymore; taking the elevator every time their feet were about to give out.

And Jude and Y/N were fun with it all too. Every security camera they saw (or they thought was one), the two would wave as if they were communicating with security on the other side. Every time they heard distant footsteps, they would share a glance before running away in laughter and giggles like they were being chased, holding hands for dear life to make sure one (Y/N) wasn't lagging behind the other (Jude) as they ran around seeking thrill and adventure.

Roaming around the hotel brought the couple to the hotel bar, where Jude and Y/N found the drinks and the karaoke machine. And for some reason beyond what they knew, they preferred the karaoke machine; to sing a song and loosen up sounded good. The adrenaline was so high up, so high that a drink or two wasn't necessary to boost their confidence. Nonetheless, they chose to drink some anyways too.

Together, Jude and Y/N sang their songs; their favourite songs, the ones they could sing, the ones they couldn't sing, the ones the pair sang in private and only to one another. And it definitely felt like it, like they were the only ones in the room. 'Cause even though some of Jude's teammates were present too in the bar—enjoying the atmosphere and recording Jude just in case—that didn't stop the couple from enjoying themselves and feeling like they were the only people in the room.

To fall back into reality– to fall out of their high and hyperactivity– the two headed to one of the many indoor swimming pools. Seeing as they hadn't brought any swimwear with them, they chose to swim in their undergarments, Jude and Y/N mindlessly laughing as they watched one another undress.

Heading into the swimming pool, they chose to take it easy. Holding one another, resting on the shallow end because they had no real energy to swim. Just like the pool water, that want to sleep and cave in was slowly washing over them, surely but slowly. There was talk, but it was exhausted and strained. All Y/N and Jude wanted to do was celebrate—that was the only thing resting on their minds.

But from leaning on each other to not lose balance to almost dozing off on the pool floaties, they understood sleep was necessary at some point. It was time to pack it up for the night; the celebrations could start again another time.

Hand in hand—like they had been all night—a bit stiff and lagged in their walk, water carelessly dipping on the floor, the two together walked into their elevator. While Jude pressed the floor number in, Y/N took her place on the elevator floor, closing her eyes and exhaling low as her back got to rest against the wall. There was no energy between them; they could no longer hold themselves up without the help of each other.

She felt a presence relax by her side as the elevator began to go up. Opening her eyes, she turned to look at Jude to find him already wanting to catch her gaze. And they just laughed it off together, their laughter hollow and tired in the elevator. Nothing was necessarily funny, it was just a good way of getting past something that would've been embarrassing at the beginning of the relationship (which it was, particularly for Jude).

Jude inhaled through his nose, rubbing it a bit. The pool water was still having its effect on him. There was a small moment of silence before he mentioned, randomly, "I gotta listen to more Kehlani songs."

"Yeah?" Chuckling, Y/N leaned her head against the elevator wall. It was a fun time to witness Jude so out of it.

"Yeah, I do, I do," Jude nodded and sighed, letting his head rest against Y/N. "I really like one where she's all like I love you shawty, shawty," he sang, his drowsiness along with his accent pronouncing shawty like shaw-day. "That one's real cool."

"I know you like that song." From what she could remember, that was the song Jude was singing with the most passion and animation at the karaoke bar over others.

It felt like it took forever to reach their hotel floor. In reality, the elevator ride had only taken less than a minute. They had reached their hotel floor a long time ago. However, exhausted and slightly out of things, neither Jude nor Y/N noticed when the door had opened. They remained on the elevator floor, leaning on one another and engaging in simple talk. It was early in the morning; no one was awake so they felt no rush to get up.

And even if the elevator doors closed on them, it would be okay. Somehow, they would find their way back.

"Hey, Y/N," his partner hummed, her voice almost trailing away from him. "Thanks for today, for everything really. This," with his eyes struggling to remain open, Jude tapped his finger against his Champions League medal Y/N was wearing. "I wouldn't have it without you."

"It's okay, Jude. I know." I know you're grateful to have me. And she was right; that's just how it was. Jude was, indeed, grateful to have Y/N.

#clov3.content #clov3.reccs

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clov3sr · 1 year

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I JUST LOVE UR WRITING SO MUCH 😭 ANYTHING WITH JUDE PLS U DO IT LIKE NO OTHER

Heyyy, here's more Jude dedicated to you, mi amor. Your approval makes my stars twinkle so much brighter, lovely, tysm !! <<33

#clov3.content

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clov3sr · 1 year

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Wholly | j. bellingham

. a/a — I. love. the. idea. of. mean. couples. Like oh my fucking. BRO.

. c/t w(s) — fem!reader, little spicy nothing crazy chill out, very haphazardly proofread so no promises

. ♫ — make me better; Fabolous, Ne-Yo

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ 2:22 ─────ㅇ─── 4:13

—— "the right when I'm wrong, so I never slip; show me how to move, that's why I never trip."

𓆩♱𓆪 THE BAR WAS crowded, riddled with drunk patrons attempting to flag down the bartenders. Jude much preferred the solitude of his private section, but from the bar he could watch you tap the pads of your fingers against your exposed thigh, teasingly looking down at him with that sly smirk that he's beyond proud to say came from him. He's used to hearing dire threats of a man's ego mutilating into fatal hubris, but he can't relate it to being your man; There can only be good that stems from knowing he's the only one who gets to inch his hand up your little dress, dragging his teeth across the sensitive skin of your neck. He's the only one who knows how much more overwhelmingly intoxicating your perfume is compared to the drinks he's getting for the two of you. and you're the only one who gets to scratch lightly at the base of his neck and grip his bicep, a warning of your very public location. There's not much else he can say looks as good on you as pure confidence and trust in him.

So much trust that when girls inevitably approach him, he watches as that coy smile widens eagerly, and his eyes don't — can't — leave yours.

He wholly belongs to you.

The hand that slaps his own is rougher than the usual groupies because it's not one. Instead, he glances momentarily to see another man leaning back against the bar counter with him, one who's not even looking at Jude, but straight upwards at you.

"Pretty as hell," is all he leadingly mumbles, and Jude scoffs a bit in annoyance, but it's lost on the former male.

"Yep." He spits in response. Your eyebrows lower slightly in confused amusement. Jude tilts his head up disapprovingly and shakes his head slowly; he adores the silent communication the two of you have developed naturally.

"What're the chances I can bag that?" the anonymous male chuckles, and Jude can feel the thin thread of his patience shearing by the millisecond.

"Zero."

This earns him an entertained grin, and Jude wants to throw his head back in exasperation right then and there. He's heard enough of your stories to know where this is going,

"That a challenge, man?"

It's so infuriating that he can't disprove you when you proclaim that men are trash.

"It was not." His eyes are still on yours, and by the way they degrade in brilliance with every word, you can tell he's not enjoying whatever conversation he's having. Unlike Jude, you find it extremely amusing, covering your mouth as you giggle. His expression is always so telling, and this guy is apparently so dense that he can't tell. That, or it's because the stranger's eyes haven't left you either, so he probably just hasn't seen it yet.

"Dressed like that? All alone in a section? Those types are easy. Just need a bit of attention."

Jude can feel the familiar heat of boiling anger bubble in his chest, but he quells it just barely. He could make his PR team hate their job tonight, but he won't be able to stop himself from rolling his eyes if he has to hear Hendo's fatherly scolding about it. He won't act in the way he desperately wants to, but he does need this guy to shut the hell up immediately.

"She's a woman, not a rescue dog. Watch your fucking mouth."

The man looks over in offense, obviously just now realizing that Jude is not the random bonding type of guy. He shakes his head, as if deciding to let Jude off easy, and pushes himself off the counter. While he begins to strut over to your section, he fixes his posture and pulls his shirt down in an attempt to neaten it.

Just after he takes his leave, the bartender makes it to Jude with a hurried apology, which he assures is unnecessary, and asks for the bottle you both prefer. Two in hand, he's seconds behind the stranger on the way toward you.

"Hello, beautiful."

The prior playfulness that you wore on your face was immediately infected with aversion, your eyes finally leaving Jude to look up at the guy standing over you. Oh, he doesn't know. Shame.

"Hi?" you pull your crossed legs in towards yourself, tilting your body direction anywhere but towards him. He won't get the hint, you've been through too many situations like this to believe he will, but it still makes you feel slightly less revolted regardless.

"You're too hot to be sittin' up here alone, yeah?" He's slurring his words, and you're sure if you were closer you could smell the stench of alcohol and cheap cologne, but the thought of being that close makes you shudder uncomfortably. To your satisfaction, you see Jude emerge with your favorite drink in both hands, and he provokingly sits them on the glass table with a purposeful clink.

"Hmm," your fingertip taps your bottom lip ironically, and for a brief second, you wonder where this side of you came from. There is just something about Jude's conviction that you're his that makes any attempt at you criminally insolent. You'll make sure anybody who tries to get at you or Jude, and everybody around them, know never to try moronic shit like this again, "I am, aren't I?"

Jude frustratingly collapses at your side, practically on top of you, and automatically resumes his position kissing fervidly down your jawline. Occasionally, he'll spend longer on a particular spot, accompanying it with a taunting squeeze of his large hand around your smooth thigh, even as it inches farther up by the second. He's still aware enough, however, to allow you to lean forward a little and grab the neck of your bottle and your glass. He smiles for the first time since this altercation when he hears your breath hitch in pleasure, legs tensing slightly in seek of friction.

As you somehow manage to pour the drink into your glass without spilling it, your eyes dart back up coldly to the man who's still standing there like a deer in headlights. You almost feel bad, but Jude's fingers begin digging into your thigh again, and any mercy you had is stripped away instantaneously. Maybe he's a bad influence in this way, but it's a thrill you wouldn't give up for anything. Your eyebrows furrow in judgment, your nose scrunching up just to seal the look of pure disgust.

Jude's hand leaves your thigh, and you sigh disappointingly at the loss of warmth and pressure. The displeasure is soon sidelined, though, when that hand flicks twice towards the man, a blatant fuck you, shoo, and then returns to rubbing up and down your side. It's like Jude knows just how to spur you on, how to weed out that twinge of evil that you're sure originates from your mother's side. Right now, you decide you want to reward him for giving you that spirit, reciprocally assure him you wholly belong to him, and it's that conviction that laces your spitting tongue with a ruinous venom,

"Why're you still here, freak?"

. a/pn(s) — Mean. Couples. ahehehaha.

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clov3sr · 1 year

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You’re too late I’ve already scolded myself. Gimme a year or two n maybe <3 heha

#clov3.content #that was fast

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clov3sr · 1 year

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How do we feel about uhm,,, spicier writing? It’s that time of the cycle,,,

May dabble in headcanons just 2 TEST DA WATER !

#clov3.content #I’m over sharing #but technically not because there is nothing strange or unusual about the period cycle tf #I’m not over sharing

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clov3sr · 1 year

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also i didn't even realize but i was looking over my content and saw how often I fucking type Spanish its like every freaking author note,, I'm so sorry yall LMAO.

i doubt im gon' stop though mb

#clov3.content

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clov3sr · 1 year

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just realized that i should probably have a masterlist now, this world is SICK and CRUEL

#clov3.content

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clov3sr · 1 year

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Break up with Your Girlfriend. | Jude Bellingham

♢ — author annotations: I live for aggressive y/ns. I do. esto es para mis amores afrolatinos bc that's who I had in mind while making this, <3

♤ — c/t w(s): cheating! Dancer!reader and not proofread bc I'm lazy

♧ — synopsis: He justifies it by reminding himself: he was going to break up with her anyway.

♫ — music inspo.: Break up With Your Girlfriend, I'm Bored x The Boy is Mine

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ 2:22 ─────ㅇ─── 4:03

"break up with your girlfriend, 'cause I'm bored,

— the boy is mine."

In a way, you're an actor.

The same seductive drawl that actors have to lace their tongue with is what you fill every vein with, and every limb and bone and muscle moves with the same story to tell. Every fiber of your being, in these three minutes, exists as a shrine to the plot of whatever song you've been choreographed into.

It’s not really just a story, though, is it? Not when he's eyeing you like that.

He has a girlfriend.

That used to dispel your thoughts immediately, but at some juncture they began to linger regardless. You think it's seeing the degrading way she treats him, but maybe it was seeing how uninterested they looked in each other’s presence. Maybe it was how nervous he got when you looked him in the eyes, how his Adams Apple would visibly bob when he swallows back whatever’s threatening to escape his throat. How you couldn't help but give a sly little smile and downwards glance through your eyelashes. Some people would say that you're a homewrecker, that maybe you know exactly what you're doing to the poor couple.

Some people are right, and if the prize is Jude Bellingham, maybe you don't give a damn.

The story you're telling is intricate, multifaceted and difficult to consume in one sitting like your audience is doing. It has multiple perspectives, a dynamic setting, and characters with depth — two main characters — that spiral around each other until they give in to their own selfish needs. And she's a side character, comic relief. An obstacle.

The way she's clinging onto Jude's arm and displaying him to her friends like a purse is getting on your nerves now. But you'd completed your dance, and he watched. You've preyed on him with your lynx-like gaze, and he's stared back with intent to act. You've laid your bait, and as always, you nearly pray he bites.

You turn your back to the couple, making your way outside the studio. The late-winter chill immediately sprints across your skin, cold nipping at the exposed areas that your dance attire leaves. You inhale sharply at the intrusion. You could've sworn it was going to be warmer today. Still, you resolve that it's at least a welcome respite from your draining performance, both physically and emotionally. The cold air is visible in thin wisps while you work to catch your breath, and you lean haphazardly on the railing of the studio's back steps.

“D’you want my jacket?”

Hook, line, sinker.

You hum lowly, glancing backwards. He's meant to be watching her dance now, but you doubt she'd even notice he was gone. When you dedicate a performance to someone, in your experience, they're all you can sense: the deity in which your three minute shrine revolves around. She doesn't dedicate songs to him like you do, she can't. He can't worship her altar of movement like he worships yours.

"Too sweet," you murmur under your breath, but he catches it regardless and shrugs a little in an attempt to play it off. His outstretched hand with his jacket remains. After just enough silence to make him a little nervous — you can't help but tease a little — you turn and take the jacket, lazily slotting your arms into it and smiling up at him, "Thank you, Jude."

His hands retract back to the pockets of his sweatpants, and you take a moment to admire the veins that run across his arms.

Turning back to the rail, you lean over it again, admiring the glazed blue of the afternoon sky and stratus clouds that aren't dense enough to contain the yellow tint from the sun behind them.

"You're an amazing dancer."

He hasn't moved from his spot, but you're still so content with being out here with him alone.

"I appreciate that, but the real props must go to the choreographer."

"No, it's you."

His response was brisk, and you can hear a slight stutter in his next words as he governs himself to a less animated tone. You see that signature waver of his Adam's Apple in your head, even with your back turned to him.

He clarifies, "Yes, the choreographer is amazing, but it's you who brings the dance to life."

Head tilted in amusement, you find yourself swiveling around, now leaning backwards on the rail.

"Isn't she dancing right now?"

He blinks a few times and looks down and away from you momentarily. You hate to bring her up when it's just you two, she's like a dart that scrapes your tongue every time you speak of her, but you decide it's time to push a little. If he doesn't want to engage, he won't, and you can finally resign from this game of cat and mouse.

"Yeah,"

"And you're out here."

Another blink. You're on the brink of inhaling from slight disappointment in your wasted efforts when he looks you in the eye, a reinvigorated want flooding his expression. He steps forward a bit, trapping you between himself and the railing with those strong arms you admire so much.

"I am."

You're not sure if you're the cat or the mouse anymore.

"Are you..." you trail off, and Jude's ego swells realizing that it may be the first time he's seen you falter like that. Because of him, finally.

"Do you know what you're doing, Jude?"

He licks his lips, and a part of him suggests he should push away from the rail right now and preserve the frail integrity he's been losing for however long this game has been going on. Then, he catches the way your eyes dart to his lips, the rapid up and down movement of your chest, those damn eyes peering through your lashes, and his integrity shatters immediately.

"I do," he leans down to your level, his broad shoulders encasing you. You feel his lips graze yours almost innocently, but all of this is far from that; It excites you beyond words. He takes his time now, deep brown eyes scanning your own and then trailing down to where your lips are hairs away from meeting, "I think you know what you're doing too."

♢ — author postnote(s): I'm obsessed w this mashup rn,,, n trust me mis amores, we don't condone cheating 'round here. Don't be weird.

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