#Jude had his chance and lost it

[itsfootballbih]

Boyfriends.

[moviestarmartini]

la playa - jude bellingham x reader

" yo te lo hice a ti en la playa / justo al frente de la orilla / ella y yo no somo' nada pero solo entre comilla "

pairing: jude bellingham x latina!reader

summary: situationship!jude asked to spend the summer vacations with you. he's been looking at you with something other than his hungry eyes for some time now.

wc: 2.0k

warnings: really short instagram aus at both the beginning and the end, situationship where they both clearly fell for each other but won't discuss it, pet names in spanish, NSFW, semi-public sex, soft dom!jude if you squint, teasing, p in v, praise, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y'all), creampie, cockwarming, fluff (aka two big goofs in love).

A/N: i haven't written a fic in more than a year but i'm on break from uni and this man has been plaguing my every thought UGHH i'm also tired of january, it should be spring break already so i'm manifesting that energy into both this fic and the new year !! reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :>

now playing... la playa by myke towers

yourusername verano contigo 🤍

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, settling your phone down after the content had been uploaded.

You met Jude by spare chance. You’d been living in Madrid for a bit more than a year, occupied with your studies by the time the star boy reached the promised land. Jogging in Valdebebas at six thirty in the morning and having a black car pull up next to you was the way you were sure you were leaving this earth, instead finding a footballer asking for directions at the other side of the rolled-down window.

You easily discover the real reason later on. He was not lost, but had seen you around the residential complex; he’d only gotten the courage to talk to you after taking a big jug of coffee that morning, or so he claimed.

You’d noticed he had been staring at your glistening skin as you tanned your backside, but decided against commenting until the cheeky smile started to blossom. “Nothin’ “ He shook his head, but a tiny smile was half hidden behind his plush lips, giving away other intentions. The sun was so bright it was dazing, you’d sat under it for a while now hoping to darken your skin. The heat felt funny inside your tummy, similar to how Jude made your guts churn whenever he hooked your legs over his shoulders. “You’re sitting too far. C’mere.”

“Jude, mi rey, we’ve been holding hands the whole time I’ve been tanning.” You replied shortly, looking at him from behind your shades.

“Not close enough.” He practically whined, tugging at your arm with need, coercing you to get up and sit on his lap under the shade.

“Better?” You asked from your newfound place in his crotch, warm bodies coming in contact as you settled. You noticed him nod, his arm wrapping your waist in a way his forearm rested against your bare abdomen covering your belly button.

“Why won’t you post me?” His lower lip puckered out, eliciting a laugh out of you as you turned to face him briefly before turning towards the vast ocean in front of you. A small groan left his lips at the innocent movement.

After analyzing the vivid memory of his face, and thinking through your words, you spoke up. “Didn’t know if you wanted me to.” Once again, got comfortable in his lap. A sigh followed, coming from the man behind you.

“Have I ever told you how much I like that bikini on you?” Jude spoke after a minute or so of comfortable silence. You felt him toying with the drawstring of the bottoms. You could also feel something poking at your bare ass. “But not as much as I like you…”

“I think you’ve mentioned how you wanted to take it off.” Your voice barely came out; a mumble almost, ignoring the last sentence. Your heart thud against your chest, louder than it had done before when he questioned his presence— or lack thereof— in your vacation post. You peered around the area, only to find the waves crashing close to your beach beds’ location, and pearl-ish white sand spread for miles on end— just the two of you.

You felt him nod again, his chin brushing against your shoulder. Though he confirmed your suspicions of his true intentions, Jude’s hand didn’t undo the strap that held together the skimpy bikini. Instead, his fingers trailed the hem of the swimsuit, barely touching the warm skin. “Can I?”

The tone of his voice was low, the manner only brought goosebumps down your spine. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being eager, or at least the stupor of the hot day didn’t allow you to nod fast enough for you to look desperate. “You don’t know how happy I am to get you like this…” His hand sneaked under the piece at a painfully slow pace. Even though you knew what was going to happen, your breath got stuck in your throat.

“You always get me like this whenever you please.” It could be a complaint coming from anyone else, but it was just the reality of the situation. The relationship between you and Jude was… unclear. Feelings had been owned up to, but a title hadn’t been discussed. In fact, this was the first trip you tagged along; he asked you personally to do so. But you still decided against reading too much into it.

“You were saying, love?” Jude chuckled with malice, smirking at the way your skin prickled up at his touch applied to the bundle of nerves between your legs— which also spread involuntarily to give him better access. The way your words morphed with the moans and delirious sighs brought only further satisfaction to the British national.

“Don’t get all sassy with me.” You complained through a breathy laugh, eyes falling shut. His other hand trailed upwards your torso, to rest against your breasts and get straight into the task of cupping the left one first. The circles to your clit were steady, too steady for your liking. But still good enough to enjoy, and your moans let him know he was doing a stellar job. As per usual.

“What do you want, amor?” You managed to ask. Jude could’ve internally cursed, you knew him too well. A little too well for his liking. Instead of providing an answer, he pressed harder against your clit, the pressure catching you off guard, doubling down the attitude too.

“You,” Jude replied after what seemed years after he couldn’t take any more of your squirming. “Just you, all for me.” You could feel his stubble brushing against your shoulder before his lips pressed onto the length of your neck. It was all too much for you; the heat, the bright sun, the dryness settling in your tongue, his hands touching your body, his hard, clothed cock pressing against your backside, and the coil tightening in your lower stomach.

But he stopped.

Almost bewildered, you gasped, at the same time he undid the bunny ears that kept your swimsuit together. A smile crept onto your face as you turned to face him, thighs on either side of his hips. “You’re looking at me like that again.” You noted humbly, undoing the string of your bra. He couldn’t even formulate a response at the sight of your bare body, eyes scanning every inch, adoring the fresh tan lines.

“How could I not? You’re perfect.” Jude breathed out, leaning forward to catch his lips in yours. It was slow, but oozing with need and passion. You felt a pressure built up in your stomach, sparks, but you hesitated if he ever felt those around you.

“My perfect girl.” He breathed against your lips, hands holding onto your hips as he watched you undo the string that held his swimsuit tighter to his waist. He helped you pull the item down, barely resting at his upper thighs.

He leaned forward once again to catch your lips on his, letting out a tiny groan as you leaned further, just to tease him. “Kiss me,” Jude whined, stomach tightening at the firm grip around his shaft.

“Tranquilo, mi rey.” You cooed, working him up by rubbing his swollen tip on the warm and wet hole before finally sinking down his length. A pair of harmonious groans left both of your lips once you sat in his lap again, hips circling to get accustomed to the stretch.

“I can’t calm down when I’m obsessed with you.” Jude breathed out, large hands helping you steady the pace of your hips. He watched hypnotized by the way his cock disappeared in and out of your warm walls. His eyes were set, as though he wanted to train them to imprint the image in the back of his mind.

Your voice snapped him out of his trance. “Eyes up here, big boy.” The friendly banter defined your relationship; you often wondered if putting a label on things would make that disappear. But it was all just a wall to hide behind the adoration you felt for him, using it to dodge every compliment, in fear that none of his words were sincere. You could tell he wasn’t disappointed in the slightest when meeting your eyes, and the look you couldn’t pinpoint for the whole afternoon reappeared as he tangled his fingers in your hair and drew you right in for a kiss.

A kiss fierce enough to make you weak in the knees.

It was the perfect opportunity for Jude to accommodate his stance to start thrusting upwards, the sweetest noise he managed to squeeze out from the back of your throat was worth the tension in his core. Instantly, your back arched to give him the perfect angle. “I want you like this all the time…” He moaned into your mouth, hands on your hips to pin you down.

“Jude…” You mewled, the sound of skin coming into contact filling the empty air, harmonizing with the waves crashing near the beach spot you both occupied. You could feel your orgasm building rapidly, and Jude wasn’t foreign to the squeezing that built-up with every frantic thrust.

“C’mere doll, you’re doing so good f’me. Cum all over my cock, c’mon.” His voice was soft, the encouragement overlapping with his own groans of pleasure. He drew you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. Jude resisted the usual drawn-out teasing and mocking, now finding satisfaction in babying you as he slammed deep into you.

The string of incoherent babbles left your mouth shortly after his praises reached your ears. Jude closed his eyes to both contain himself from releasing at the way your pulsating walls were milking him so deliciously, but to also cherish the way your moans turned up the octave, nails digging into the sweaty skin of his bicep. Yet again, the heat you’ve been withstanding for the entirety of that morning hazed you, making a fantastic team with the warmth of Jude’s strong arms and the faded smell of his cologne mixed in with the salty air.

But all it took to push you right off the edge was a kiss. A single kiss pressed to your shoulder.

Your release consisted of a cocktail of your orgasm and a wave of realization crashing over you. You were head over heels with the man who was currently squishing your face against his buff chest, strong arms wrapped around your waist as he held you down. Groans and chants of your name replaced your meek moans and sighs, his cum filling you up. You allowed him the luxury of doing so every once in a while, and the dream-like stupor that enveloped your mind currently created the desire for him to do so.

The sounds of waves crashing filled the air once more, overshadowing the heavy breathing you shared. You stayed put, even cuddling closer to him as soon as the tremor left your legs. Time seemed to slow down, and you wondered how difficult the task of pulling away from him would soon be.

“Can I post you?”

Jude broke the silence, he’d been busy brushing your hair strands back into place upon the comfortable silence you’d set on. There was an arm still wrapped along the width of your waist. You pulled back to look him in the eyes, expecting to see playfulness in them, but finding a completely serious stare in return. “Since a certain someone won’t post me…”

“Oh, stop it!” You laughed, cheeks flushed at the idea. “If you think it's that great on an idea…” You puckered your lips while replicating his tone, cupping his face and planting a peck on his lips.

Jude smirked, licking his lips to chase the taste of you. But his eyes were soft, full of adoration. That look. It would blossom by just admiring your presence, or during one of his favorite activities– making you happy. “All I have are great ideas. Amazing, even.” He stole a peck off from you. You giggled, and a smile subconsciously peaked from behind his lips.

His heart flipped in his chest for the hundredth time that trip.

Jude, lost for words, just shook his head and reached for his phone. He started to wonder how a person could compete so easily with the grandiose, warmth and shine of the sun above.

But one peek down at you, snuggled up against him, answered all his questions.

judebellingham summer with you 🤍

A/N: used @ keilanilizbeth on instagram as the fc

and that pic on the left has me wishing i could match sambas with jude 😞😞

[lovemomhatepolice]

jude bellingham nswf alphabet (part 1) (minors DNI!)

navigation taglist requests

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Oh, Jude is very adhesive after sex. He likes to cuddle with you until you both fall asleep. He places gentle kisses on your head, shoulders and arms, in fact wherever he can. He always talks to you for a long time, whether everything was okay, how you feel, if you need anything…. Well, Jude is a great guy

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Jude is well aware that he is damn handsome. And not since he started being famous, oh no, Jude was already aware of that before. However, what he likes most about himself is his face, I think. He really likes the fact that he is similar with his family, which is so important to him, and he likes his looks. He is very fond of his dark brown eyes and his lips, which, according to him, have the perfect shape (to kiss you!!). As far as you are concerned, I think Jude is definitely an ass man. Of course, he loves your breasts, but your ass is definitely something Jude always looks past when he sees you. He loves to squeeze it, kiss it, everything, really. He always has his hands on her when you're somewhere together, and he's not ashamed to show it. Unfortunately, on the contrary, sometimes you have to correct him so he doesn't get caught up. And besides, he loves your whole face. He thinks everything matches perfectly - your nose size, eye color and lip shape, ay, this boy is drowning.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Jude Bellingham looks like a total creampie fan. I think he repeatedly stopped his seed at your entrance to watch it mix with your juices and slowly leave your body. But I also think he's too delicate to let his cum linger on your face, which is why he's not a fan of it. Even if you asked, there's no chance he'll let himself cum in your face

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) I think he likes it when you take the initiative. He often does a lot on his own, but the sight of you having fun with him in a way that no one else has ever done before, god. Jude is already on his knees and begging for more

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Nah, Jude is not very experienced. Well, after all, he's only 21 years old and hasn't scored any major ones on his relationship record. Therefore, everything you experience together is quite new to him. It was with you that he lost his virginity and began to discover what he likes and what he doesn't quite like But nevertheless he is a fast learner, he has become so skilled that if you met him for the first time, you would not be able to say that he is a fresher in these matters

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Jude likes to have you on top. Really, that's why the cowgirl position is just right for him. He likes you to take the initiative, however, alone from below he can also do a lot, especially since compared to him, you are in his hands like a feather. Another option is standing up - as I mentioned before, Jude is a fan of sex in the shower, so the standing option had to be practiced to perfection to make both of you comfortable and perfect

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) It depends on the moment. Jude is hardly a person who is against any jokes in bed or giggles, on the contrary, it even happens to him often. However, when your sex is heavily geared towards romance and the heat rising around your bodies, he rather tries to be serious and committed to the situation

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) I think Jude is not completely shaved, but it is trimmed so that it is neat and not too much. He has dark curly hair, so I'm betting he has that all over his body too, so it might be hard to eliminate it. As for you, I think similarly. Either completely shaved or trimmed so that everything is neat and not too much.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Bellingham can be truly romantic. He may not look like it, but he loves to plan your entire evening. First take you out for an expensive dinner with wine, then prepare you a joint bath with petals of your favorite flowers, followed by the intense sex you've both been waiting for all day. And then long conversations in bed and gentle touches...

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) This often happens to him - mainly due to the fact that you often don't see each other through his constant trips to matches and life in other countries. He's not averse to pornographic movies, but since you've been together, he tends not to watch them. You prefer to connect together on the webcam and experience it from a distance, or he copes by simply thinking about the fact that you could be you next to him…

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Honestly, I can't find any sensible kink to match Jude. He does not seem to be a person who is drawn in any particular direction. Maybe a creampie? Hm, I think he could watch with fascination as your shared juices of fulfillment come out of you…. Oh, and combined it with breeding kink? Well, what? He's young, but he can definitely see you with a pregnant belly in your future home together in Madrid

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Shower. Jude Bellingham shouts shower. Or possibly a bathtub, but definitely something on the toilet. I honestly don't know why, but it's what I associate with so damn much. Sex after the game? In the toilet. Sex with romantic candles and rose petals? In the bathtub. Sex without any occasion? In the shower. Well, don't say no. Jude definitely looks like a man who loves to take a bath together with you, and the opportunity to get close is even better

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) After the match. I don't know why. It's just that after a match, Jude is always, and I mean always, somehow more horny, and that's when you turn him on the most. Whether it's won or lost, Jude just needs to have his girlfriend in his arms after it Or the other option that turns him on is you in mini dresses. Well begging, the boy is already on his knees in front of you (or rather, behind you too)

A/N: next part will be here soon! i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[trentsgirl]

— 🤍 ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

⟡ summary: just a lovely morning with your boyfriend.

⟡ content: very fluffy, clingy jude, established relationship, short, around three hundred words.

⟡ notes: had this in my drafts for a while, so thought i should post this because i have too many. requests are open:))

⟡ streaming: tip toe by hybs.

⟡ masterlist.

mornings with jude were usually hectic and far from peaceful. you would quickly get ready for your respective commitments and barely have any time for each other before rushing out the door.

but today was different. it was friday, and jude had been granted a few days off due to a shoulder injury. despite the unfortunate circumstances, jude was excited about the prospect of spending the entire day with you.

his plan was to stay in bed all morning, cuddling and making up for lost time, if you know what i mean. however, you had other plans in mind.

you were accustomed to waking up early and being productive. so as you attempted to free yourself from jude’s firm hold, he unconsciously grunted, his body pressing against yours.

nevertheless, you paid no attention to his murmurs and left the bed, causing jude to grumble even more.

“come back to bed,” he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. you couldn’t help but find it endearing how much he longed for you. “i’m tired,” he added, lightly tapping your pillow.

deciding to tease him, you donned an exaggerated pout and adopted a whiny tone, as if speaking to a child. “oh, you’re tired? i’m so sorry baby, it must be so difficult for you.”

jude expressed his annoyance, stating, “actually, scratch that. when i said i was tired, what i really meant was that i’m tired of you being a sarcastic little shit.”

you chuckled, returning to the bed with a gentle smile. “well, i’m your sarcastic little shit.” you playfully remarked, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

jude seized the chance to embrace you, shifting his position so that he loomed over you with his much larger frame, making you nearly invisible beneath him.

“jude!” you gasped for breath, “do need to remind you that you’re six feet tall? you’re not exactly on the small side!”

he seemed unfazed by the fact that his weight was completely crushing you, and retorted mockingly, “i’m actually six foot one, baby.”

rolling your eyes, you chose not to respond and surrendered to jude’s agenda for the day.

to be fair, it wasn’t too bad at first. however, once his snoring started again, all you desired was to kick him from the bed.

[anadiasmount]

being at a party w boyfie jude and u run into ur ex who still thinks they have a chance and jude puts him his place 🤭🤭🤭

“swear to god if he keeps sending drinks to you-” jude curses, sending daggers to your ex boyfriend across the room. your ex had been sending your favorite drink for the last few hours and it was pissing jude off. making a scene in front of everyone by pulling you into his lap and giving you messy kisses.

he got to the point where he even crawled you to the dance floor and made it known who and what he meant to you. “relax jude, he’s just trying to make you mad and you’re letting him,” you reassure leaning down to place a kiss on his lips, seeing a frown form on his face.

“i don’t like it. he clearly knows your taken? can’t he see the promise ring, and you on me? if he sends one more drink over i’ll throw it on his face,” jude warns making you roll your eyes playfully. “you won’t.”

“watch me,” jude tried to stand up but you refused, telling him it wasn’t the right time or place for a scandal. “stop it. it’s not worth it. what are you going to gain out of it?”

“y/n. the fact he’s here alone is irritating the fuck out of me. who the fuck does he think he is?” jude extends his hand out when he talks, his brows furrowed and eyes squinted, clearly pissed off and jealous. “do you want to go?” you softly ask, knowing it was bothering your agitated boyfriend.

“no baby. i wanna stay, i won’t let him get to me anymore,” he ushers you, pulling you closer into his lap, his hand on the side of your thigh, peppering kisses on your shoulder. “what did you even see in him?”

you giggle, “you know what i can’t even tell you because i don’t even know.”

time passed and he stopped sending drinks over, you had excused yourself to go to the restroom, jude giving you a messy kiss and smirking as your ex saw the whole thing. jude looked around lost in the club, people watching as it became a thing for him since he met you.

he quickly stood up ignoring the pleads and voices to sit down and let it be, watching your ex get near the booth y’all we’re in, holding your favorite drink. “go. get out,” jude pointed to leave with a angry look on his face.

your ex laughed, swirling the straw around before handing over the drink to jude, who crossed his arms, and angry look on his face. “gives this to y/n for me, looks like she’ll need it after all that show you put on,” he says making jude clench his jaw. “did you know it was her favorite? oh god she would make me order this all the time when we went out!”

“such a pretty girl. the way she laughs, talks, shit even that sexy walk she has drives me insane,” your ex said with a ‘phew’ at the end, making jude’s palms twitch in jealousy, almost punching him to shut up.

“she used to beg for it-” jude quickly cut him off, his face inches away from his scowling, making your ex smirk. “go away. leave us alone,” jude tried to control his anger but it was becoming difficult. “she’s with me now. she doesn’t have to ask or beg, she knows what she wants and how to get it. she’s my girlfriend, the one you lost to some bimbo who clearly carried something,” jude spits out in fury.

you laughed walking back to the booth, your friend stopping midway as she looks straight ahead. jude holding your poor ex by his shirt clearly yelling at him as your ex struggled to pull away. you huff and roll your eyes, knowing he wouldn’t drop it.

jude’s friends tried to intervene, but knowing how short tempered he was it was hard. “stay the fuck away from us and especially her. if i even see you standing close or hear you’ve been seen with her, i’ll make sure everyone knows the type of person you are and what you carry,” jude threatened letting your ex go.

“fuck you and your bitch,” your ex exhaled patting down his shirt that had your drink spilled on him. “jude drop it,” he heard the commotion around him, getting pulled back immediately. he lost sight immediately of his, removing his friends hold on him, “let me go”.

you watched with an amused look, leaning on the wall with a bottled water in your hand. jude coming over to you as if nothing happened, “really?”

“i wasn’t going to sit there and pretend like he didn’t exist. he was asking for it and the nerve to come to our table with him yapping? no i wasn’t going to let it go,” jude defend himself, grabbing your hand and walking you out to a small private patio in the back. “what did you say to him?”

“doesn’t matter… i put him in his place. he will know not to come around anymore.”

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 2 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, SLOW BURN

words: 6.7k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 2 ► they say i got no purpose, they say i got no cause, but i’m loved by all my people, i’m the leader of the lost

Tipsy Jungkook was usually known for his wit, maybe his charm, but never great ideas. Hence his plan to win the bet early—and he was certain he would win—as he knocked on the door of your hotel room at eleven-thirty that same night.

The long flight was already far behind him, but it wasn’t behind you as you opened the door of your pitch-dark room only several minutes later. He thought he got the wrong room until he saw you, squinting at the violent light coming in from the hall.

“Jungkook?” you mumbled, too disoriented to understand the pointlessness of your own question. His knock had woken you up from what was supposed to be a ten-second rest of your eyes. “I thought we’d agreed on a text.”

“We did,” he said, suddenly very aware of how difficult it was to choose words now that he was actually standing in front of you. “But I figured I’d report to you live. So, that’s why I’m here.”

“Okay,” you said slowly. Your words felt heavy, your mouth too tired to voice them. “Well, uh—thanks. You should—”

You were already in the process of closing the door of your room, but he grabbed it, startling you. His gaze was cast low, however, and he did not notice the widening of your eyes.

“I was thinking—what if you came down for a drink?” his question was quick as he fought a battle against his sober mind that was catching up to him.

Eventually, he looked up at you. Your eyebrows were rising, then fell quickly as you tried to play your surprise off. It was this look on your face that—finally—gave him a pause.

It caught up—the sober part of him—and he blinked, fully grasping what he was doing and regretting it immediately. He hadn’t really thought he’d come up here, ask you out, and you’d jump at the chance. He knew you wouldn’t. But he supposed that, maybe, against nearly all odds of the years between you, he still had a glimmer of hope that you’d agree, after all.

“How much have you had to drink?” you countered—and whatever hope he’d had dimmed completely.

You wouldn’t have said no to a drink under normal circumstances, but these particular ones were hardly normal. Not to mention, they involved Jungkook’s so-called friends, and you’d have sooner shrivelled from thirst than considered drinking with them.

You assumed Jungkook knew that.

“Barely anything,” he told you truthfully enough. There was, of course, the matter of his brain being clouded, but he figured alcohol had little to do with it. Looking at you more closely, he took in your dishevelled hair and droopy eyes and bit his lip before asking, “did I wake you?”

“No,” you lied, but for a good cause—the protection of your dignity. “Are you feeling alright? Your eye is twitching.”

Looking down again and bringing his fingers over his eyes, he groaned under his breath. This was jetlag. It threw him off his game.

Turning his head sideways to hide his flustered face, Jungkook attempted to get himself together in under a second—and failed, of course. If anything, he only became more aware of your suspicious gaze as he rubbed his eyes continuously.

Fucking Sid and Jude. He’d clearly acted too big-headed in front of them, and now he was outside of your room, having whatever the hell this awkward silence was with you, and his fucking eye was twitching.

He loathed this.

“I’m great,” he said without looking up at you. New plan, new plan, new plan. “Going to bed now. Night.”

He turned so abruptly, it took you a moment to realise that he meant he was going to go to bed right this second.

“Do you want water or—?” you called after him, voice faltering as you lost confidence in your phrasing. Water felt a lot like suggesting turning the device off and on again when it began to malfunction.

You watched Jungkook’s back as he hurried down the hall, shaking his head. He threw one hand up – as a gesture of refusal? Gratitude? Goodbye? You weren’t sure – before disappearing inside of his room down the hall, only daring to peek at you over his shoulder before turning away again.

There were several thoughts in his head, all of them far less eloquent than the one before, full of words starting with “F”. He realised that he couldn’t possibly just ask you out. That was outrageous; you’d knock him unconscious and kick him off the band.

Leaning against the door of his hotel room, he decided he’d have to find an excuse. Some sort of an occasion. Something laid-back, yet serious—something he could present as casual to you, but meaningful to his friends.

His eyes lit up at once. He realised he might have something, hidden in the back of his personal email, long forgotten due to the clashing of schedules. But if he made it work…

He’d have to try, he decided. This might be the only way to get you alone.

Back in the hall, you closed your own door, retreating to your room. You chose to blame the nerves on this barely two-minute-long conversation that had to be one of the weirdest ones the two of you have exchanged over the years.

He was anxious about the tour – it made sense.

You decided that, if this persisted, you’d talk to him the next time you saw him—preferably not in the middle of the night in an empty hotel hallway.

The next time you saw Jungkook was at the restaurant downstairs. It was early in the morning and the staff of the hotel was only preparing the buffet. Everywhere you looked, people were either yawning or dozing off in the eating area.

“Morning,” you announced yourself by the buffet table where the crew and the band were choosing what to put on their plates and chatting with the hotel staff in hopes of some warm cinnamon buns. “Did everyone sleep okay?”

“I left my melatonin spray,” Yoongi mumbled, appearing next to you. His eyes were redder than the shirt he was wearing. “So, no.”

Concerned, you pointed your index finger at him. “You’re coming back to the hotel after the rehearsal for a nap.

He nodded. But before you could add anything else, his slightly shapeless form glided away towards orange juice, putting an end to this exchange. He did that sometimes. He didn’t realise that his perception of the flow of conversation—namely, that it ended—could have differed from the other person’s; didn't realise that they might still have something to say.

With Yoongi gone, you looked over at Hoseok and Taehyung. “What about you? Did you get enough sleep?”

“I’m perfect,” Hoseok said. He’d rather sell both of his arms and a leg than ever admit that something was wrong with him, so you looked at him especially long as he spoke, “can’t wait to get this going. First show tonight!”

His excitement seemed genuine, so you met this palm with yours in a high-five and turned to Taehyung. He’d been standing next to you, chewing something, even though his plate was still empty.

“I’m fine, too,” he said, catching your eye. “I did try to order room service at four in the morning, but they weren’t very—well, it’s my bad in any case. I just wanted a sandwich.”

Your face was compassionate as you patted him on the arm. “Wait until we’re on the bus. We’ll all be cooking ramen at midnight.”

He smiled back wryly. “I’m looking forward to it now, but I know it’ll get old very quickly.”

You were about to agree when you felt someone’s hands on your shoulders. Flinching lightly, you turned your head until you caught sight of Jungkook’s profile.

“If anyone’s wondering,” he said, “I slept fine, too.”

“I was getting to you,” you replied, managing to get yourself out of his grip—graciously enough—so you could face him instead. “Your head’s alright?”

“It’s perfect,” he replied, beaming. “Keep telling you I know how to drink.”

You squinted your eyes, but chose not to question the last conversation you’ve had – he seemed normal enough now.

“Okay. Have a good meal, guys,” you redirected your attention back to the rest of the band—and the staff around them. “We’re leaving in forty-five.”

Most of them nodded—some grunted, too, expressing displeasure at the tight schedule—and you were finally able to grab a plate for yourself.

Jungkook, oddly enough, stayed by your side.

“Try these,” he said before you could ask him why he’d lingered. He picked up two strawberries with a fork and dropped them on your plate. “They’re so much sweeter than what we have back home.”

You looked down at the strawberries like he’d plucked them straight from an alternative universe where this gesture—dropping them on your plate for you to try—was normal.

“I don’t really eat fruit for breakfast,” you mumbled under your breath, the words—like this whole situation—inappropriate somehow.

“You should,” he replied. “They’re good for you. And the strawberries go well with a croissant. Chocolate? Your favourite.”

You stood there, barely blinking, as you watched him fetch a chocolate croissant—your favourite—for you.

He smiled proudly as he did this and even seemed surprised when you asked, “did Sid and Jude drug you last night?”

“Why would they?” Jungkook countered, but did not wait for your response as he pulled you away from the buffet table by tugging on your forearm softly. “Let’s get a seat.”

“Okay, hold on,” you took a step backwards, away from his touch. “What is going on? Are you buttering me up, because you’re going to tell me you’re addicted to meth?”

“What?” he stopped, too, looking at you with as much confusion as you were looking at him with. “Of course not.”

“Are you leaving the band?” you guessed next.

“Hell no.”

“Are you—”

“I am literally walking to get us seats at a table, so we can have breakfast,” he said. “Or, actually, trying to do that. Since you’ve stopped and won’t move.”

Still suspicious, you eyed him for half a minute longer, and then forced yourself to keep walking. He nodded, relieved, and followed your step towards the table.

He sat down next to you, which took Namjoon—one of the producers on tour with you—completely off-guard, because he was the one who usually sat with you when Rated Riot were touring. Out of everyone here, Namjoon was one of the few people—the other ones being Yoongi, the de-facto leader of Rated Riot, and Seokjin, the stage manager—that you could count on to keep everyone in check, so the two of you had a lot to talk about over breakfast.

But this morning was already starting off weird.

Hesitating for a second, Namjoon looked around and sat down on Jungkook’s other side, shooting you a confused look over the band member’s shoulder.

Jungkook didn’t notice, momentarily preoccupied by the waffle on his plate. You shrugged briefly in response to Namjoon and ripped off a piece of your croissant, scattering crumbs everywhere on your plate and the table.

You didn’t feel very hungry, to begin with—the anxiety of the band going on their first European Tour was really showing its’ full face today—but Jungkook acting unusual only made you more unsettled.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon spoke up—bless him—as he, like you, avoided actually eating anything that was on his plate, but kept playing with the stems of his strawberries. “Nervous about tonight?”

“Not more than usual,” Jungkook replied, his tone nonchalant even though you could feel the restless bouncing of his leg against yours under the table. “I know we’ve got a great crew here. We’ll be fine. Right?”

He looked at you as he said this last part—an innocent, expectant smile on his face. But there was a conspicuous glint of mischief in his eye. You couldn’t tell if he was up to something, or just nervous.

“Right,” you said, chewing the piece of the croissant you’ve broken off. It didn’t taste like anything.

“First show’s a sold-out, so that’s a good start of the tour,” Namjoon continued. “Can’t wait to see you guys on stage.”

“Can’t wait to be on it,” Jungkook echoed, his voice empty somehow, until he turned to you. “You’ll be at the soundcheck, right?”

He was watching you again—truthfully, he never even looked at Namjoon; when he spoke to him, he looked down at his plate and only peered at the producer through his peripherals—and you shifted in your seat awkwardly.

“Of course,” you said. “It’s my job.”

“Right,” Jungkook said. “Of course.”

You glanced at Namjoon, your eyebrows furrowed slightly. He looked back at you with an almost identical expression.

“Guys,” was the next thing you heard, followed by a very agitated slam of a plate against your table. Alarmed, you looked up to see Seokjin next to you. “The owner of the venue only speaks Czech. I called, but I could not get any information from him whatsoever. I even tried negotiating in German.”

You lifted your eyebrows, but Namjoon beat you to the most important question at hand, “you speak German?”

Seokjin sat down with a defeated sigh. “I don’t. But I’m desperate. I know how to say hello, I thought it’d break the ice.”

Jungkook watched the exchange in silence, curious. He wasn’t usually present at these backstage meetings where you discussed the logistics of the tour; it all distracted him from his plan.

“I’ll try to talk to him,” you said, wiping your hands on your legs to lose the crumbs. “What do you need to know?”

“Well, everything,” Seokjin replied. “I’m going over there right after breakfast to fix the place for the soundcheck while the guys rehearse, and I don’t even know how many loudspeakers the place has.”

You nodded as you got your phone out of your pocket and considered your next course of action. It was a crisis you expected before you came here—language translation had always been a problem in foreign countries, especially in venues that had terrible internet connection—so you checked your schedule and decided on the simplest way to solve this: teamwork.

“Let’s both go over there,” you said. “We’ll figure out a way to communicate face-to-face.”

Seokjin was mid-nod when Jungkook extended a hand, making everyone freeze.

“Hold on,” he spoke in a rush, “I thought you were coming with me.”

There was offence in his words. You felt Seokjin glance at you and did not need to turn your head to know that the look on his face was questioning—did you have plans with Jungkook this morning?

“I’ll be at the soundcheck,” you spoke slowly. “You hardly need me at the rehearsal, too.”

“I—well I do need you, as a matter of fact,” Jungkook said. Then, responding to the surprise of everyone at the table (Seokjin was actually grinning), he added, “at, uh—at the rehearsal, I mean.”

There was a warmth under your skin that felt prickly and uncomfortable.

“You’ll deal,” you said simply enough and took another bite of your croissant—properly this time, because you had to get going soon.

“And what if I forget the lyrics?” he pushed. “Who is going to yell at me if you’re not there?”

“Yoongi,” you replied, your mouth full, “he’ my befft—” you paused to swallow, “my best replacement.”

Jungkook huffed in exaggerated disappointment, but he dropped the topic, allowing you to finish your breakfast in peace. Instead, he handed you a napkin to help with the chocolate on the corners of your lips, all without a comment.

Another minute later, he watched you and Seokjin leave together. And, with you gone, he realised that he did feel nervous.

One part of the reason why he was by your side this morning was because of the bet, that was true. But the bigger part was because of what he’d said to you – he really did want you there at the rehearsal and at the soundcheck.

Tonight was the first show of the band’s European tour. Your presence made the wait for the concert feel less massive and easier to grasp.

The bet had distracted him, too, and it gave him a reason to talk to you. But now that it was him and Namjoon left at the table, he had to find a way to bite, chew, and swallow, despite his stomach turning inside out.

Namjoon was talking about Prague to him, reading about previous bands that performed at Malá Sportovní Hala before moving on to bigger venues the next time they toured Europe—and all of that only made Jungkook bounce his leg harder.

He decided he couldn’t eat anymore as soon as he finished another waffle. With no one else distracting him from the upcoming concert, he needed to do something himself.

“Excuse me,” he said to Namjoon, who looked up in time to see him stand up with his plate and walk away. The producer thought Jungkook had looked pale, and concluded—like you had last night—that the weirdness of this morning was prompted by anxiety.

Jungkook was someone who had a captivating, effortless stage presence. Someone who put on a show until he collapsed, until he had to be dragged backstage because his legs no longer worked. Or until he climbed on the railing of the balcony and the owners of the venue, witnessing this in horror, went to fetch you, pulling on your sleeve and asking you to put a stop to this, threatening legal measures.

Jungkook performed like every night was his last. But there was so much that went into it: rehearsals, soundchecks, warm-ups, herbal throat remedies, and, most of all, anxiety. He was aware of all the what-ifs—what if my voice cracks, what if I forget the lyrics, what if my in-ear monitor lags—and they all weighed on him.

He worried. He said he didn’t, he laughed and jumped around—and all of his energy was mistaken for excitement, not stress. But he jumped because he couldn’t not jump, his whole body was tingling.

Therefore, wanting to do something else—something that would give him a reason to still feel excited even if he messed up the band’s performance tonight—Jungkook sat down on an armchair in the hotel lobby and pulled his phone out.

It was time to carry out the plan he’d come up with last night in order to win the bet; this would give him something else to focus on.

The plan was this: Kihyun, one of Jungkook’s old friends from university—and, coincidentally, the fiancé of your friend from university, Chloé—was getting married in Paris in a few days. Initially, you and Jungkook both said you couldn’t make it to the wedding because the date coincided with Rated Riot’s tour. But now this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

He'd checked his schedule beforehand, so he knew that the band had a day off right on the day of the wedding. He struggled to calculate travel time, but he figured Poland wasn’t that far from France—you could make it there and back in time for Rated Riot’s next show.

However, this was very last-minute—and he had already sent the pair a wedding gift—so he wasn’t very hopeful as he dialled Kihyun’s phone number. That being said, Jungkook knew he could be persuasive—when he wasn’t drunk and you weren’t standing in front of him in the doorway of your hotel room, that is.

But as it turned out, he didn’t even need to use his charms.

As soon as Kihyun picked up the call, he joked, “Jungkook! Change your mind about the wedding?”

And, after Jungkook admitted that he had, in fact, changed his mind, that he was in Europe, and, actually, he was thinking of bringing you as his date—Kihyun was more than happy to extend you both an invite.

Worriedly, Jungkook asked if Chloé wouldn’t mind, but Kihyun assured him—assured him!—that, if anything,  Chloé would be excited. She was, apparently, hoping to see you again at her wedding and felt bummed when you said you couldn’t make it.

That was enough for Jungkook, but ever-polite Kihyun continued: the fact that you and Jungkook managed to find time in your busy schedule to see them on their special day—Jungkook cringed here, guilt creeping in—meant a lot to them both.

And so, easily enough, the plan swung into motion. Ending the call, Jungkook exhaled in relief as though he’d already invited you—and you’d said yes.

He did want to see his old friends again. And he did, really, want to take you with him—so perhaps he wouldn’t even go to hell for this. And if he would, then perhaps it’d be worth it.

After all, everything fell into place so effortlessly, it seemed like this was meant to be. And now he could go to the rehearsal, do the soundcheck, perform at the show, meet his fans, and win the bet—in this particular order.

You and Seokjin got everything settled faster than you’d expected—the owner of the venue didn’t speak any languages that the two of you spoke, but he seemed to be fluent in pointing-at-yelling, which, coincidentally, Seokjin also excelled at, so it all worked out. You still had some free time left, so you returned to the hotel before the soundcheck.

But as soon as you entered your hotel room, you felt an unsettling sense of guilt somewhere in the pit of your stomach.

What if Jungkook really needed you at the rehearsal? Not because he, clearly, had some sort of ulterior motives—covering up the fact that Sid and Jude recruited him into a cult?—but because he was genuinely nervous or unsure of himself.

It made sense—all the members of the band could have felt this way; tonight was the first show of the tour, after all. It could be that this was the only way Jungkook knew how to approach you, too prideful to ask for help directly. Perhaps you should have taken him more seriously.

Sighing, you turned around and left your room as soon as you came in.

But your journey back to the venue wasn’t smooth – security had changed shifts and there was an unfortunate mishap: you and Seokjin had gotten your credentials mixed up. Somehow, Seokjin managed to enter with your pass, but you, for some reason, couldn’t enter with his.

Half an hour later, you were finally allowed inside and found the band members about ten minutes before soundcheck was supposed to begin.

They were in the hallway leading to the stage, ready to go out—some of them were doing stretches against the wall, others were browsing on their phones while balancing water bottles on their knees.

“Hey,” you approached them from the empty stage while doing a head count to make sure all four of them were here. “How was the rehearsal?”

“The rehearsal? It was fine,” Taehyung was the one closest to you and he was the one who replied. He appeared a little thrown off by your question. You realised you’d never had to ask before—if something went wrong, they usually told you right away. Otherwise, you assumed everything was okay. “Nothing unusual. Why?”

“No reason, just curious,” you replied, hoping your voice sounded neutral enough. “Looking for reasons to worry, I guess.”

“Ah. Well, here comes the usual reason.”

He nodded his head at something behind you and you turned around to see Jungkook cross the stage towards you, dragging a mic stand after him.

“You’re finally here,” he said, stopping by the exit from the stage. “We missed you at the rehearsal.”

Taehyung was picking his bass up from where he’d rested it against the wall when he stopped, suddenly, and lifted his head. “Uh, did we? No offence.”

The question was for Jungkook—who awarded the older boy with a glare—but the last part was for you.

“None—uh, none taken,” you said, then turned to Jungkook. “I was told the rehearsal was fine.”

“Oh, sure,” he replied, “but you know me. I adapt to hardships very well.”

You looked back at Taehyung. “What hardships?”

“I honestly have no idea,” he said. Your gazes ping-ponged back to Jungkook again, almost accusing.

“I mean the hardship of being by ourselves,” Jungkook said in a frustrated voice. As if this was obvious and he felt stupid having to explain this to you. “Unmanaged.”

You raised your eyebrows. “With all this staff with you, you’re hardly ever unmanaged.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there.”

“Okay, honestly, did you need me there?” you asked, directing the question at Taehyung, because you were more comfortable with his responses. They were less cryptic.

Feeling a bit like a third-wheel after the back-and-forth between the two of you, Taehyung looked at you, then at Jungkook, then back at you again.

“No,” he said finally. Then, nodding at Jungkook, he added, “I think he’s doing the job of giving you reasons to worry about.”

Jungkook didn’t open his mouth in time to cut in, and you spoke up first.

“He always is,” you said to the older boy. When you looked at Jungkook, he was already watching you with a face so dramatically displeased that it was clearly an act.

So, he seemed to be doing well, then.

“Get back to work,” you said with a gentle smile—Jungkook needed that smile even if he put up a front. “I’ll be with the sound operators if you really need me.”

The soundcheck and the VIP Meet & Greet afterwards, unsurprisingly, went by without either member of the band needing your assistance, so you were able to have a coffee-and-ice-cream break with Jimin, the lead sound technician on tour. It wasn’t really a break, because Jimin had to be present for the soundcheck, but things were going well, so when he mumbled how nice it’d be to have some ice cream right now, you left to get it.

This wasn’t Rated Riot’s first time doing this, of course – and they may have acted like they had fallen off an alien spaceship sometimes, but, at the end of the day, they were professionals.

You were too busy yourself before the show, so you barely got to exchange more than a few words of good luck with the band. But as soon as the opening act – a rookie band with a fitting title of Poison Tongue, considering how much they cursed in their songs – finished their performance and Seokjin’s team prepared the stage for Rated Riot, you made sure to find a spot on the side of the stage.

It took some effort, too – you tried not to block anyone by the barricade, but also not get in the way of photographers, coursing right by the stage. Especially Maggie, another one of your friends on tour, and easily the boldest photographer here—she wasn’t above hanging off the second-floor balcony to get the perfect shot.

But you couldn’t find her now. Fortunately, when you found a spot by the stage, Luna—Taehyung’s girlfriend—joined you there, so, at least, you weren’t by yourself.

For once, the two of you were able to actually enjoy the concert. Normally, you kept interrupting Luna’s videos as you had to scold Jungkook’s friends for chatting up people who came to watch the show. Tonight, thankfully, Sid and Jude weren’t here – they were picking up Minjun, another one of Jungkook’s friends, at the airport. You hoped they’d get lost on their way back, settle down in Prague, and never bother you again. Poor people of Prague, of course, but maybe they’d be the ones who finally taught them a lesson.

You’ve seen Rated Riot perform countless times at this point: at restaurants, company events, nightclubs, and, eventually, concert venues – but there was nothing about their performances that could have ever made you feel bored.

You filmed them on your phone as Hoseok nearly broke the platform on which he played the drums—with wild screaming in the background—as Taehyung fired water guns at the audience—the screams turned thundering—as Yoongi performed his solo guitar part on his knees—the screaming was ear-splitting—as Jungkook returned for the encore shirtless, his tattooed skin glistening with sweat, his voice hoarse, his eyes burning—the screams were deafening.

The audience sang along to every song, there was never a quiet moment in the concert hall. Objectively, you knew that around 3,000 people had come, but the ringing in your ears made the audience feel twice, even three times as big.

The support was overwhelming, and all of it came in response to the unstoppable energy on stage. Two songs in, Jungkook had already climbed and jumped off the largest loudspeaker on stage. By the fifth song, Taehyung stage-dived right during his bass solo.

By the end of the show, the members were drenched in sweat, barely able to breathe as they tossed their guitar picks, the drumsticks, and the towels into the audience, and took their final bows—promising, of course, a quick return, and hoping, silently, that this promise would come true.

This was Night One of Rated Riot’s first European Tour – and you felt giddy as you already waited for the next night.

The band went to change into something more comfortable backstage, and then headed back out to meet some fans who’d lingered behind, buying merchandise and hoping that the members of Rated Riot would come out to meet them—and they did, always.

You worried, a little, about what you’d have to do with the gifts—the plush toys and, most importantly, the letters—that the fans gave them. The thought of throwing them out or, simply, not taking them, had never crossed any of your minds, even though that was what the label suggested.  

This was another thing that you had to fight with Jett Records about. You knew that the band actually read the letters, especially when they were tired or lacked inspiration. That’s when the words from their fans became their source of motivation. Their purpose.

They were doing this because they loved it. But when they got tired, they kept doing it for them.

And, because of this, you figured you might end up having to rent out a separate bus for gifts alone, once you’d toured enough countries.

This thought was supported by Rated Riot returning with hands full of mementoes from fans. You took them and, while everyone gathered for traditional shots of gin & tonic backstage, you went outside with some of the crew to load the equipment—and the gifts—into the buses.

You had a six-hour drive from Prague to Krakow ahead of you, but, when you returned to the venue, the whole band was jumping around the room. You knew they wouldn’t sleep one bit tonight.

Hence your lack of surprise when, several hours later, when you were already on the bus, you went to find Jungkook, and he was sitting in his bunk, scrolling on his phone.

You were hoping he’d be awake, so you could speak to him. You couldn’t risk there being something deeper about his weird behaviour earlier today, even if he did give an outstanding performance on stage.

“Hey. You’re up,” you said, pointing out the obvious, because it was a good enough conversation starter.

Jungkook lifted his head.

“Yeah.” He put his phone down and patted the bunk next to him. “You can’t sleep either?”

You nodded, taking the invitation and sitting down next to him. “I have something I want to ask you.”

He was surprised. Really, he should have been the one saying this to you; he hadn’t had a chance to ask you to Kihyun’s wedding yet.

“Go ahead,” he said calmly enough.

“Are you really okay?” you asked, choosing not to beat around the bush, because it was three in the morning—not the time for that. “You’ve been acting weird the whole day.”

He looked away, not having expected this, evidently. “Oh.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” you explained, “but then I couldn’t help myself. It’s my responsibility to know if there’s something wrong with any of you, so I felt like I had to ask.”

Jungkook closed his eyes and leaned backwards until the back of his head touched the wall of the bus. “I’m fine. Just—adjusting, I guess. This is new. Europe.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, bending your knee under yourself as you got more comfortable on his bunk. “It’s new for all of us.”

“Yeah. So, maybe, I guess, I’m worried,” he said clumsily.

Even though this wasn’t why he’d acted weird—and, really, he was appalled that you found his behaviour “weird”; he truly was off his game—it was the truth. He did feel anxious. So much so, that a part of him appreciated Sid—not for suggesting the bet, per se. But for giving him something else to focus his mind on.

“Well, about what?” you asked. “Maybe talking it out would help.”

He looked at you, but then moved his gaze towards the bunk opposite his—empty right now because Hoseok was at the front of the bus, taking pictures through the window and, probably, chatting up the French bus driver.

“About not being good enough,” Jungkook said after a minute, his words coming in the form of a deep sigh. “This is Europe, it’s a different audience for us. I mean—realistically, I know it’s not. If people are buying tickets to our shows, they probably know us. They like our music. But still. Most of them have only ever seen our performances online. Hearing someone sing in a YouTube video is so much different from hearing it live.”

You merely nodded, not wanting to interrupt, because, although he’d paused, it didn’t sound like he’d finished.

“So, now I’m thinking all these things, like…” he continued, “I don’t know. Not living up to their expectations,” you saw him swallow before he kept talking, “what if these people have been listening to Rated Riot since we started? From the very beginning, you know? And now they hear us live, and they think I’m doing a half-assed job. And they’re disappointed—they’ve waited to see us for so long and we didn’t deliver. I didn’t deliver. I don’t want that. I want them to remember this night, not just because we may be their favourite band, but because they’ve truly had a good time. You know?”

He needed reassurance—and asked for it repeatedly—so you nodded again, more eagerly.

To be fair, this wasn’t the first time that the two of you were talking about this. Years before he joined Rated Riot—before you broke up—you’d had multiple conversations about the one genuine fear that Jungkook had: disappointing others.

“But you are showing them a good time,” you said. You scooted backwards and leaned against the sideboard adjacent to him; it seemed like you were going to stay here a while. “I’ve watched you play tonight. You guys were brilliant.”

“Thanks,” he said, sounding noncommittal. “I know the guys are always—they don’t fuck around. They come and they tear that stage up to shreds.”

“So do you,” you reminded him.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I know this isn’t insecurity speaking,” you said, “because we both know you’re great—”

Snorting, he interjected, “that part’s true.”

“—so, you’re worried you’re not doing enough. Not giving enough,” you concluded. “But do you feel like you’re holding back?”

He considered this for a moment. “No. I feel like I cough up my lungs and my heart, and toss them right into the crowd after the show. I couldn’t get off stage if I didn’t feel that way.”

“And it shows,” you said, softer now, as you watched the spark return to his eyes. Memories of the concert played back in his mind. “Performing is in your blood. It’s always been.”

“Right,” he said. “So, I should have nothing to worry about, then?”

He had a sardonic smile on his face, and he was, essentially, asking you if he should have stopped complaining. This wasn’t at all what you were trying to say.

“No, you have every right to still feel worried,” you said. “What I mean is, don’t forget that you know what you’re doing. You know it well. Fortunately for you, you were born to do this. I know it sounds like a nice thing to say to someone, but you know I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t mean it.”

He looked down. “I know.”

Then, hesitating for a moment, he pulled his lower lip in and brought his teeth over his lip ring. He added, “thank you.”

“I’m here to listen if you need me to,” you said. “And to remind you that people see your effort. They appreciate it. You guys are doing well.”

“We’re doing well,” he repeated—and did it while inhaling, like a mantra. Then, exhaling again, he joked awkwardly, “in any case, I can always fake it ‘til I make it, right?”

You shook your head, disagreeing immediately. “You’re the most genuine you’ve ever been when you’re performing. You guys have got nothing to fake.”

Coming from anyone else, he would have called this nonsense—he was a performer, so how would anyone know what was genuine for him? But you would. You were the one person who knew.

Slowly, a small smile crept onto his face as he asked, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echoed, feeling your own lips stretch into a smile. You added, “you’re my favourite band.”

He snickered and rolled his eyes. “You’re our manager, you have to say that.”

“Very true,” you did not argue, “but again, I’m saying that because I mean it.”

He gave you a look—not necessarily doubting your words, but having a hard time wrapping his head around your serious tone. He’d always assumed that the only reason why you paid any attention to his band, was because you had no other choice.

“You’d still listen to Rated Riot if you weren’t working with us?” he asked—a question long overdue, but he supposed he’d never really cared that much about this before. All that he cared about was that you were around.

“I’d even come to your shows,” you said.

He laughed, amazed for some reason. This was what you should have said to him from the very beginning; there were no signs of prior anxiety left on his face now.

“Wow. Okay,” he said in uncertain delight—as if he feared he’d misunderstood this and got excited about nothing. “Thank you.”

Calmer now that you’ve made him smile, you reached out to pat his knee amicably. He felt goosebumps on the skin of his arms and crossed them over his chest immediately.

“Don’t forget that, okay?” you said. “Part of the reason why so many people love you—why you have this opportunity to perform in Europe in the first place—is because you give away so much of yourself on stage. And, actually, I don’t think this is something you can control. It comes naturally to you.”

Jungkook watched you as you spoke, an almost forgotten warmth spreading in his chest. It’s been so long—so impossibly long—since he’d felt it. He wasn’t sure if he was even aware how much he’d missed it.

“Thank you,” he said once more—breathless this time. Wistful.

You nodded and asked, “you feeling better?”

“Definitely,” he replied, but it was hard for him to tell if this was true. He felt less anxious, yes. But now he felt confused.

He hadn’t expected this conversation, even though, reasonably, he should have—your work ethic required you to be reliable and trustworthy, to take care of those around you. And that was what you were doing.

But this conversation didn’t feel official. It didn’t feel like you were doing your job. It felt friendly and familiar.

And exciting, his rapid heartbeat whispered.

Yes. It felt exciting, too.

“Good,” you spoke, scooting back towards the edge of his bunk. “Now go to sleep.”

He snorted; your return to the role of his manager did not let him bask in nostalgia much.

“Alright,” he said, crawling to fluff the one remaining pillow in his bunk. “You’re the boss.”

“And stop acting fucking weird!” you added as you stood up. He laughed at the sudden outburst. “Nearly made me call a therapist for you.”

“Why would I need a therapist when I have you?” he teased. The brightness on his face was so honest, so infectious, that you had to look away to hide your own smile.

“Because they do not pay me enough for this,” you retorted.

Clutching his chest in mock-offence, he asked in a sorrowful voice, “am I nothing but a client to you?”

You picked up a pillow that had fallen off his bunk and tossed it at him.

“You’re my favourite clients,” you replied. He caught the pillow before it hit his face and grinned—despite knowing that Rated Riot were your only clients at the time.

“You’re my favourite manager,” he returned. This, finally, got a laugh out of you as you walked back to your own bunk.

Left alone, Jungkook didn’t even realise that this could, technically, count towards winning the bet. He didn't even remember the wedding at first; your questions, your reassuring tone, you had distracted him from bringing it up.

But he felt calm. He knew that he could afford to worry about this later. For now, he was busy replaying your conversation—and the part of it where you laughed—in his head.

chapter title credits: palaye royale, “king of the damned”

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[thatsdemko]

the culer- j.bellingham

masterlist | pairing: Jude Bellingham x gavi!fem!reader. summary: with the pressure of the match at hand, Jude makes an error that’ll cost him. warnings: fluff + angst + the following events in this fic are completely fictional and are not based on real life events. a/n: I dislike Real Madrid but I love Jude because he played for Borussia Dortmund.. he’ll always have a place in my heart I fear

It’s not like the words “Pablo gavis sister” were plastered against your forehead, so how was he supposed to know? it wasn’t the worst thing to happen to him, but it certainly wasn’t best when he rounded the corner and hear your soft laugh ring his ears. it was even ten times worse when his breakfast threatened to come up seeing your brothers arm around your shoulders.

you’re squished in between culers, your brothers jersey clung tight against your chest that serves as a major distraction to him. yet, he can’t actually see you. glimpses of you from the tunnel replay in his mind, the ball against his feet should be in the back of the net right now, but he’s stalling.

if he scores, your brother and his team lose. why does it matter to him anyway? this should be an exciting moment here in Barcelona with the crowd booing his name and boosting his adrenaline, so why does he care so much about you?

you’d never had more than just sex. an occasional cuddle and maybe a late night movie cozied up in his bed, but that was it. so you’re unsure why he’s playing with the ball when he’s got a 90% chance of scoring.

“just shoot the damn ball, Jude.” you mutter to yourself. the quicker he gets this over, the sooner the dread and anxiety bubbling in your stomach will fizzle out, and the sooner this is over the better chances your brother or his teammate have in evening the score.

yet there he still stands, unable to decide to shoot or to pass and the crowd wasn’t having it. Jude was usually so quick with his mind, football came easy yet this shot was the hardest one. he knows if he shoots this into the back of the net all chances with you end tonight on this pitch. he knows if he passes, all chances of his team advancing into the next round, end here.

why did it have to be him to decide the fate?

as if on cue, pablo takes the stab. he pulls Jude from his mind games, and decides to end the misery for himself and the crowd. Jude didn’t have much of a reaction time, in fact, he didn’t even put up a fight as the ball was swept from his feet.

“what the fuck man?!” his teammates shout frustrated in his inability to play the damn game.

your nails dig into your palms, watching your brother and his teammate play keep away from the Real Madrid defenders before taking the shot on net and ending the tie once in for all.

Real Madrid lost and wouldn’t advance to the next round.

a smile couldn’t form to your lips. watching Jude’s head hang low, you feel guilty. knowing he’d been riding the highs of the past couple of wins, he should be proud of the fight the team put up today. but those three minutes of torture would haunt him for the rest of his career for every time he saw you.

you.

his head picks up, eyes scanning the mass of fans the sea of red and blue all mesh together. faces booing and others cheering become a blur, but he’s sure you’re out there celebrating. you always expressed how important family was to you, and he was sure your family couldn’t of been happier.

—

you shouldn’t be here. not this late. the match ended hours ago and Jude most likely wasn’t even home yet, but it didn’t stop you from pounding your knuckles against the wood door in hopes he was there. you’re the last person he probably ever wants to chat with, but you needed to check on him. you needed to make sure he wasn’t beating himself up.

you hear the lock click, the door slowly creeps open revealing his dark brown eyes scanning your body. you’d changed into sweatpants in a sweatshirt, a more casual fit than what you were used to wearing to see Jude.

“what are you doing here this late?” his posh accent floods your eardrums, your heart can’t help but thump faster as you move closer to the small crack of the door to find any signs of concern across his face.

“I came to see you.”

“I don’t want to see you.” his bitter words make your heart come to a screeching halt. it’s just the game, you tell yourself, he doesn’t mean these words he’s clearly just upset.

“you played well, ba—Jude. please don’t beat yourself up.”

the door opens up more, like he couldn’t resist. seeing your concern for him mixed his feelings about you. at first, he was done with you. said it was for the best to move on, but seeing you here? with your doe-like brown eyes staring into his, he couldn’t resist.

“I’m the laughingstock of the team now. all because I couldn’t shoot the damn ball.”

“why didn’t you?” the words come rolling off your tongue before you can even process. you’d been asking yourself the question ever since the game ended. why didn’t he just shoot the damn ball? what was stopping him? you couldn’t press the questions in your mind any further when you knew what was stopping him: you. its silly and cliche but it’s the truest that’s been gnawing at him. you were the reason he couldn’t bare to see his own rivals lose.

“I don’t want to discuss this.” his shoulders slumped. he hardly notices you’d pushed the door further and allowed yourself in. he knew your care taking tendencies couldn’t bare to see him this down.

“come on,” you guide him into his bedroom, the curtains are drawn and a Spanish soap-opera plays quietly in the corner of his room. you crawl into his bed and allow him to rest against your body. your nails rake across his skin, careful not to put too much pressure on the black forming bruises.

“you really shouldn’t be here.” he mumbles feeling his shoulders and body sink further into the depths of touch. he hates himself for this, he knows he shouldn’t be falling at the hands of his rivals sister, but yet he can’t stop himself.

“I know,” you say peppering kisses to his throbbing temple, like you knew there was too much pressure there, “I’ll deal with that tomorrow, right now I’m here to deal with you.”

“you’re the better gavi, did you know that?” Jude lifts his gaze to meet yours, your lips briefly touch enough to ghost his.

“I did know that actually.”

he may have lost the game, but one things for sure, he didn’t lose you.

[morallyinept]

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 14

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 7k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: In the aftermath of the tsunami, Frankie and Jude are haunted by dreams, and struggle to determine what is real and what isn't. Very, very brief mentions of suicidal thoughts, and mentions of drug taking.

Song sung in the chapter is:

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 13

As Frankie slowly regains consciousness, he finds himself enveloped in a disorienting haze - a fog of confusion that clouds his mind and dulls his senses.

The sterile scent of antiseptic assaults his nostrils, and the rhythmic beeping fills the air; a cacophony of sound that seems to echo in his ears, its rhythm erratic and unsettling.

His head throbs with a relentless ache, every pulse sending a sharp stab of pain shooting through his skull. His mouth feels dry and parched, as if he hasn't had a sip of water in days, and a bitter taste lingers on his tongue - a reminder of the poison he’s willingly ingested.

Every movement is an effort, every breath a struggle against the weight of exhaustion that presses down upon him. His body feels heavy and sluggish, as if it’s weighed down by invisible chains, tethering him to the hospital bed with a cruel inevitability.

And then there’s the sensation of the IV line - a thin, plastic tube that snakes its way into his arm, delivering a steady stream of vital fluids and medication into his bloodstream. The sensation is strange and disconcerting, a constant reminder of his own frailty, his own mortality.

He can feel the cool touch of the saline solution as it courses through his veins, a lifeline tethering him to the world of the living, anchoring him to the present moment.

With a groan, Frankie attempts to sit up, only to be met with a wave of dizziness that sends him reeling back onto the hospital bed. Blinking against the harsh glare of fluorescent lights, he struggles to piece together the events that have led him to this place - a place of sterile white walls and solemn faces and plastic name tags who speak in foreign medical terms; a place that feels worlds away from the place he once called home.

And then, like a bolt of lightning striking through the fog of his memories, it all comes flooding back - the overpowering rush of euphoria, the reckless abandon of his actions, the acetous taste of regret that lingers on his swollen tongue.

He’d overdosed on the coke, lost in a haze of self-destructive impulses and desperate cravings, until the world had faded to black and he’d slipped into unconsciousness.

His eyes adjust to the dim light of the hospital room, and he surveys his surroundings with a growing sense of unease. The other bed beside him lays empty and untouched, the sheets neatly folded back as if waiting for someone who’ll never come.

The silence that fills the room is deafening, a hollow echo of the emptiness that gnaws at Frankie's insides. 

Something doesn’t feel right. He shouldn’t be here. 

For a moment, he lays there in stunned silence, grappling with the enormity of his solitude. His mind replaying the moments leading up to this candid awakening - moments filled with reckless abandon, self-destructive choices, and a blind refusal to acknowledge the consequences.

He’d driven them all away with his addiction, with his lies, with his inability to see beyond his own needs. And now, when he needed them the most, he found himself abandoned, left to face the consequences of his actions alone. 

To wake up, alone. 

Frankie feels the sting of tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, a silent testament to the pain that grips his soul tightly in gnarled claws. He’s pushed everyone away, burned bridges with those who had once stood by his side, and now he’s paying the price for his folly.

As the reality of his situation sinks in, Frankie feels a cold knot of fear tighten in the pit of his stomach - a sinking realisation of the depths to which he’s fallen, the consequences of his actions laid bare before him in stark relief.

He’s come so close to losing everything - his life, his sanity, his chances at redemption - and yet, somehow, he’s been given a second chance as he feels that familiar shake in his fingers tingling.

The heavy silence of the hospital room is suddenly pierced by the sound of the door swinging open. His heart skips a beat as he turns his gaze towards the entrance, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

And there, standing in the doorway, is Benny - the steadfast friend who has never quite given up on him, even when Frankie's given up on himself.

A small smile tugs at the corners of Frankie's lips as Benny strides into the room, a personality as big as his boots, holding steaming coffee cups in his hands.

"Hey, Fish," Benny greets him, his voice warm and familiar. "Figured you could use some of this to chase away the cobwebs."

Frankie nods gratefully as Benny places a cup on the bedside table, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. He watches as Benny winks with a knowing smile.

And then, as if on cue, the door opens once more, and Frankie's heart skips another beat as Will and Carla enter the room.

There’s a moment of hesitation, a brief flicker of uncertainty in their eyes, before they approach Frankie's bedside with tentative smiles.

"Hey, buddy," Will greets, his voice tinged with concern. "How you holding up?"

Frankie meets Will's frosty gaze with a mixture of gratitude and relief.

"I'm... I'm okay," Frankie replies, his voice hoarse with emotion.

As Carla steps into view, her gaze immediately falls upon Frankie, but she can't bring herself to meet his eyes. Instead, she keeps her focus fixed on the floor, her hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, the tinkling of her bracelets like familiar music in his head.

Frankie can sense Carla's discomfort, the tension radiating off her in waves. He wants to reach out to her, to offer her some measure of comfort, but he hesitates, unsure of how to break through the barrier that seems to have sprung up between them. 

It’s clear from the tightness in her expression that she’s anything but okay with him right now. She’s struggling - struggling to come to terms with everything that’s happened, struggling to face the reality of Frankie's addiction, struggling to find the words to express the turmoil raging inside her.

The anger. The love. The hatred. The helplessness. 

Frankie watches as Carla takes a hesitant step closer to his bedside, her eyes still fixed on the floor. He can see the conflict etched in her features - the desire to reach out, to offer support, warring with the fear of saying the wrong thing, of making things worse somehow.

And yet, despite this comforting picture, something feels off. Something’s askew, not quite right. A weird sense of Déjà-vu almost. It’s like trying to grasp at smoke - elusive and ephemeral, slipping through his fingers just when he thinks he has it within his grasp.

The disquiet within him grows stronger, a nagging voice at the back of his mind urging him to question, to probe deeper into the recesses of his memory. Prickles on his skin making him shudder.

But try as he might, Frankie can't quite put his finger on what’s wrong - only that something is amiss with this scene.

“Frankie?” Benny asks. “You alright, man?”

Frankie swallows and looks up at his friend, and that’s when he sees it. See’s odd movement in the IV bag out the corner of his eye.

There are fishes in the bag, swimming around. 

“W-what-” Frankie stammers.

His attention is pulled by the sudden screeching, and he turns his head to see a monkey sitting casually on Carla’s shoulder as she speaks with Will. A tiny monkey with big, yellow eyes staring back at him. 

“What’s h-happening?” Frankie queries, feeling dizzy. Like he’s being tossed about on an unsteady bed that feels like it’s floating. “¿Qué está pasando?” (What’s happening?)

Water is trickling down the walls, steady tracks that grow in width and speed. 

Frankie's voice echoes through the building furore, but his friends seem oblivious to the rising floodwaters around them. They continue to move about the room with casual nonchalance, as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening.

That their feet aren't sloshing around circling waves of water flooding in from under the door and through the windows now. 

“Fuck!” Frankie hollers as he scrambles out of the bed.

As the water continues to rise, inch by inch, Frankie feels a sense of desperation clawing at his chest. He knows he has to get out, has to escape before it’s too late and he drowns.

But as he struggles to find solid ground amidst the swirling currents, a sense of futility washes over him - a sinking feeling that he’s trapped, that there’s no way out. He looks down at the deflated lifejacket now around his torso, his fingers frantically pulling on the useless cords. 

“No, no, no…”

The walls seem to blur and warp around him, and a strange sensation sweeps through his body, like the ground shifting beneath his feet. Panic surges through Frankie's veins as he looks around frantically, searching for some semblance of solidity in the shifting, swirling chaos.

The water rises steadily higher with each passing moment, until it reaches his knees, then his waist.

“Benny!" Frankie calls out, his voice swallowed up by the roar of the water. “Will! Carla!” 

But his friends are nowhere to be found, lost amidst the churning currents that threaten to engulf him.

As the water rises higher and higher, panic gives way to a sense of resignation - a grim acceptance of his fate. He knows he’s dreaming, knows that none of this is real, but that knowledge offers little comfort in the face of the impending deluge.

He’s not waking up. 

And then, just as Frankie feels himself on the brink of being swallowed whole by the raging waters, a voice cuts through - a voice that is familiar and comforting, like a beacon of light in the darkness.

A voice that he knows only too well rushing into his ears around the water as he sinks beneath the surface. 

“FRANKIE!”

A tsunami can last anything from a few minutes to several hours. 

The energy of a tsunami runs through the entire depth of the ocean. It only becomes deadly when the ocean floor becomes shallow enough, and all that energy compresses into a smaller amount of water.

The deeper the water, the faster the tsunami, travelling up to speeds of five hundred miles per hour, and taking mere minutes to reach land. 

Once it reaches the land, the raw energy of thousands of tons of water destroys everyone and everything in its path in mere seconds. It’s a myth that you can outrun a tsunami of that magnitude - you simply can’t. It will engulf you before you even comprehend the thought in your mind of running.

The survival rates of a tsunami can vary depending on several factors such as the magnitude of the tsunami, the distance from the coastline, the elevation of the land, and individual preparedness and response. Generally, survival rates are quite low in areas directly impacted by a large and powerful tsunami, particularly if people are caught off guard and unable to evacuate to higher ground in time. And even if you can, your chances are still dubious.

You just gotta hope that luck is on your side. 

Jude’s tumbling through the water, swallowing more of it as the deadly moments wear on; the lifejacket seemingly useless as she keeps being pulled under as she’s swept along with the ferocious current.

She surfaces momentarily to yell out for Frankie, before she’s dragged under again. 

“Frankie!” She screams, more water pouring down her throat making her choke and gag.

She kicks her legs, her lungs on fire as she surfaces again, blinded by the inflation of the life jacket as she tumbles like she’s in a spin cycle in a washing machine. 

She glances at her wrist as she surfaces again; part of the ripped shirt is still wrapped around it, but Frankie isn’t on the end of it anymore. 

“FRANKIE! FRANKIE!!” She screams out in the water, the waves continuing to crush her head on a relentless repeat.

She splashes around frantically searching for any sign of him in the choppy current as it pulls her along. 

“FRANKIE! WHERE ARE YOU?!” She cries out again, a choked sob overcoming her but refusing to admit defeat - he has to be here, he has to have survived this just like she’s doing.

They survive together, that’s the deal. 

“FRANKIE!”

But then his lifejacket didn’t inflate. What if he’d been knocked out as his head had smashed into a rock under the water? What if he’s already dead?

“NO!” Jude cries out, swimming as hard as she can as the waves try to pull her under again.

“NO! NO! FRANKIE!” She screams again until her throat is raw. “FRANKIE! FRANKIE!”

With each passing moment, the waves seem to grow taller, more relentless in their assault, threatening to engulf her completely. She fights against the current with all her strength, but it’s like trying to hold back a tidal wave with her bare hands.

As she struggles to stay afloat, her mind races with a thousand fears and uncertainties. What if he can't hear her over the deafening roar of the waves? What if he’s hurt, trapped somewhere beneath the surface? What if...

She can hear choking and yelling, and turns in the water to see Frankie swimming towards her.

He disappears under a wave as it rolls on top of him and she takes a deep breath as the wave crushes her head only seconds after. She resurfaces just as Frankie reaches her and she clings onto him as he splutters and chokes. 

“Thank God! Fuck!” Jude exclaims, thrashing amidst the frothy chaos, her body battered by the relentless force of the sea.

Without hesitation, Frankie reaches out, his strong arms encircling her trembling form as they ride the waves together. For a fleeting moment, time seems to stand still as they cling to each other amidst the fury of the ocean.

The water crashes around them, the salty spray stinging their eyes and coating them with a thin film of mist.

“Hold on to me!” He makes a weird gurgling noise as he tries to speak and coughs. “Holy fuckin’ shit!” Frankie cries out in disbelief as he paws at her and her hands grab a tight hold of his t-shirt.

He looks like a drowned rat, his hair and beard covering him and sticking to his skin with the saturation. There’s no sign of his trusty, familiar cap. 

Frankie coughs again as water splashes over his face as they ride the waves of the tsunami, desperately clinging onto one another as they tumble and swirl with the ocean’s aftershocks. 

Jude grips so hard onto him that her hands will ache for days afterwards, but she’s determined not to let him go this time. 

It’s hard to tell how exactly long they’re in the water for.

The sun has moved across the other side of the sky as they bob there on the waves as the remnants of the tsunami begins to fade out on the ocean.

Thankfully, the tsunami wasn’t all powerful or engulfing enough that it’d taken their lives, but it was still incredibly damaging. 

Exhausted, Frankie rests his head against the front of Jude’s inflated lifejacket with his eyes closed. But he’s still holding tightly around her waist as they float in the water, aching all over from their battered bodies. 

“Look, over there!” She says to him, rousing him, and he lifts his head when they spot the island in the distance. 

“Can you swim that far?” Frankie asks her.

“Yeah. We did it before, we can do it again, right?”

He nods. “Take it slow. Don’t burn out.”

They swim together against the current slowly; their limbs searing and getting pushed back with the waves every now and again as they continue to surge.

It seems like they aren’t making much in the way of progress, stopping occasionally to catch their breath and check the other is okay to carry on, but the island seems to grow closer, until eventually they can stand on the ocean floor again and stagger up the shore to the sandbank. 

They both collapse on the sand; Frankie falling onto his back gasping for air like he’s having an asthma attack. Jude falls onto her knees, battling to get the life jacket off and dry heaving as she coughs up copious amounts of sea water until she eventually pukes it all out. 

“Are... you... okay?” Frankie gasps in between each word as he hears her upchuck relentlessly.

She looks up at the beach, front wiping her mouth when she’s done spitting out, and is dismayed at what she sees. 

“Oh God...” Jude’s voice breaks.

In the aftermath of the tsunami, the once eerily quiet island lay battered and broken, a landscape transformed by the merciless force of nature.

Trees lay uprooted and strewn about like discarded matchsticks, their branches stripped bare and twisted into grotesque shapes by the ferocious waves. Debris littered the sandy shore, a grim testament to the havoc that had been wrought upon the island in a matter of moments. 

A scene of utter devastation that seems to stretch out as far as the eye can see. The once pristine, rocky beach is now marred by the impacting detritus.

It’s gone - all of it. The shack, the fire pit, the solar stills, just... gone. Nothing but a sparsely flooded and barren landscape greeting them, and not much else.

Jude staggers up the soggy sandbank wandering aimlessly in shock and disbelief. Face blank and eyes wide in disbelief. Body trembling from exhaustion and adrenaline as it confuses her nerves.

Frankie calls after her, rolling over onto his front and taking in the overpowering sight of destruction presented before him.

“Fuck.”

He drags himself to his unsteady feet and follows behind her in a stunned silence as he casts his weary eyes about the place. Their movements are slow and unsteady, as if they're moving through a fog, each step weighed down by the crushing weight of the destruction around them.

Every sound - the crash of waves, the creak of splintered wood - amplified, assaulting their senses with a relentless barrage of stimuli.

Jude stops when she spots something near the cave mouth as they begin to pass it. 

“Oh no,” she whimpers, and drops to her knees when she reaches it. “No, please no-”

She picks it up and cradles it to her chest, her hands trembling as she strokes his cold, sodden fur. Frankie approaches, and she looks up at him with silent tears streaming down her face.

“Egon...” Jude blubs through choked wails, as she holds the little, lifeless monkey inside of her arms; his once wide, yellow eyes closed forever in a drowned sleep. 

Frankie drops to his knees beside her and despite his will, he can’t help but shed some tears for the little critter who, as Jude had said before, he actually loved more than he let on. 

People of faith will often be heard saying ‘God is testing me,’ when things ultimately get tough in their lives.

Like a bearded man, wearing Birkenstocks, relaxing on a cloud and sipping from a G&T, is observing your plight and revelling in it, chuckling haughtily like watching an episode of a trashy talk show. 

God is clearly a sadist after everything he’s put them through, and as she watches Frankie scooping the pile of sand back into the hole he’d dug with his shovel-like hands for Egon’s grave, Jude can’t help but feel a deep sense of harbouring resentment for her maker right now. 

Frankie rubs his hands against the thigh of his damp shorts and looks up at her as she stares down at the sandy grave.

“Do you think we should say something?” He asked her, scratching at the back of his head and squinting.

“There isn’t anything left to say.” Jude mutters and strides off, sitting on the sandy shore and staring out at the ocean. 

It’s calmed considerably; the oncoming dusk making the horizon glow pink in the distance. 

Frankie plonks himself beside her after a few minutes of staring at the monkey’s resting place; returned to the earth in the cycle of life, a festering ouroboros of gut-wrenching despair swilling inside of him, alongside copious amounts of sea water.

Hugging his knees and holding onto his wrists as he looks out at the horizon too. He breathes out a deep weary sigh and sniffs in deep.

“I’m sorry,” Jude says to him after a few moments.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, hermosa,” Frankie turns to her.

“Yes I do. I’m sorry for berating you so much about having hope all those times. You were right not to. There is no hope for us. We’re going to die, just like Egon.” She speaks like a robot, devoid of any emotion whatsoever, and it rattles his bones to see her talk like this, to see that she’s just done.

“Stop it,” he warns, pulling her towards him, but she resists, pulling her arms back away, but he grips onto them, grappling with her.

“No-”

“Hey, stop it!” Frankie yells, and pulls her in close as she wanes and falls against him without any more fight left in her.

“We’re going to die!” Jude wails into him and sobs as he holds her tight, almost like he’s a boa and is constricting the life out of her.

She writhes and her shoulders heave as she cries for what feels like eternity. Her sobs louder and more haunting and all Frankie can do is hold her in his arms and never let her go. 

But his arms feel weak, no longer the strong barriers they once were to protect her anymore. 

He doesn’t say anything to her; offers her no reassuring lies of comfort because there’s no point. She’s finally accepted it now like he had; they were going to die.

 And it kills him all over again.

There’s nothing to pick through or scavenge. 

It’s almost as if they’re just going through the motions to stay busy and not to actually drown themselves willingly in the water to end all the pain and suffering they’ve endured. 

How much suffering can two people withstand before it finally breaks them? When is that breaking point, the crux of no return? When do you take that step and what is it that will finally give you that unwavering courage to turn your back and fall off the ledge?

Beaten, crushed... starving; on the brink of death and looking into its inviting, comforting jaws as it reaches out to you and convinces you in a soothing lullaby that everything will be okay, and you start to believe it for a while. That life on the other side will be better than this - anything will be better than this. The allure calls to you like a Siren song and it gets harder not to become bewitched by it and resist. 

They don’t speak much, in fact at all. Jude simply watches Frankie get up from the sand where they’ve slept all night from their exhaustion, and observe as he starts hunting for things - anything that he can find and strike gold on.

Knowing it’s pointless, she stands up anyway, robotically copying his every move, searching for any stray bottles or clothes and not really understanding why she’s doing it. Searching for anything at all that can prolong their survival, even just for the tiniest bit.

But of course it’s fruitless - the tsunami has washed it all away. 

Frankie reaches the tree line, surveying the damage of the wooded area that's halved in size, and he can no longer see the fuselage anymore that was previously stuffed into the bank on this side of the bay. There’s a singular piece of wood from the shack, split and broken as it floats in a muddy pool by some snapped tree trunks.

He glances up at the ridge and there’s no trace of the branch igloo and he sighs, deflated and beginning to hear that deathly Siren song tinkling inside his ears. 

Jude wanders around aimlessly; frying under the heat and constantly pulling up her jeans that are falling down when she takes a few steps forward. Her legs have that dark shadow of hair growth and she hates the fact that she hasn’t been able to shave them for some time now.

She hates the fact that her stomach seems on a constant, never ending rumble. She hates that she can’t just lie down face first in the water and just go. She hates that she can’t do it because of him.

She hates that Frankie won’t simply let her die. 

As she wanders along the shoreline, her eyes scanning the debris scattered by the waves, she spots a familiar sight - a baseball cap, swirling amidst the calming foam and froth of the ocean.

With a quickening of her heart, she wades into the shallows, the cool water lapping at her ankles as she reaches out to retrieve the cap, trembling with disbelief, she can't help but feel a surge of astonishment.

As her fingers close around the familiar fabric, fingers gliding over the sewn-on patch of the Standard Heating Oil logo, she chuckles out in disbelief. This simple piece of fabric, battered and worn by the elements, had made it back to him somehow. And she’s glad to see it - Frankie isn’t quite Frankie without his cap. 

They meet back on the beach a little while later and slump themselves in the sand defeated with heavy thuds, hungry and tired and irritable beyond all reason. That kind of heaviness that swamps your head and crushes it until your brain splurges out of your ears. 

Jude hands him the cap and he’s just as astonished, if not relieved to see it, as she is. But she doesn’t say anything to Frankie as she watches him put it back on his head under a scraggly mess of overgrown curls. And Frankie doesn’t say anything to Jude after offering her a limp smile.

She lays back and rolls over on the sand, facing away from him; willing the sand and rocks to turn into quicksand and just swallow her into the suffocating dark. 

They stand on the ridge, the sun on high and the breeze blowing through her braid.

He’s always so fascinated with those stray wisps of hair that will escape it, no matter how tightly he ties it for her. They’ll flock to her face and cling to her cheek, pelting her with never-ending kisses affectionately.

Frankie’s sitting amongst the half constructed branch igloo; sticks scattered all around him that he’s whittling with the switchblade, and Jude’s looking over the ledge of the ridge and humming a faint tune that’s barely audible, wandering back and forth as she stretches her legs. 

His hands are tight and raw, blister with the effort exhumed, but he continues on with the job nonetheless, numbing out to the aches and splinters. As Frankie stretches, cracking his back, he hears her hum out again. 

“Sing it for me.” Frankie prompts her, and Jude turns to catch his smirk with glowy cheeks. “Go on, hermosa.”

Jude takes a breath with a grin and sings.

“In the end. As my soul's laid to rest, what is left of my body? Or am I just a shell?” 

She starts moving her head, swaying it side to side as her shoulders begin to follow. She can hear the music inside her head as though they have her playlist right here blasting out on the rocks beside them; the beat of the drums counting her in and the strum of the guitars plucking through the riffs and melodies.

Frankie stops whittling, resting the stick in his lap squinting up at her with a smirk stretching his pink, dry lips. 

“And I have fought. And with flesh and blood, I commanded an army. Through it all, I have given my heart for a moment of glory...”

He laughs as she rocks her hips with vigour and then punches her fist up in the air. 

“In the end. As you fade into the night-”

“Woah-oh-oh-oh!” Frankie yells out singing along to the tune.

“Oh fuck, you know it?” Jude exclaims, smiling in happy delight at him. 

Frankie nods. “Keep singing,” he encourages. 

“Who will tell the story of your life? And who will remember your last goodbye?”

“Woah-oh-oh-ohhhh!” Frankie hollers again as he stands up, taking her hand and twirling her around whilst she laughs again, her eyes crinkling and throwing her head back.

“Cause it's the end and I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid to die.” Jude sings.

“CAUSE IT’S THE END, AND I’M NOT AFRAID - I’M NOT AFRAID TO DIE!”

They both fist punch the air over the ledge as they sing the final words out loud together, echoing all down the ridge across the island.

It’s a memory that splinters him. That was the happiest he’d seen her since they’d landed upon this dreadful island. Carefree and joyous, a wild jackal roaming unrestrained and free. 

It was in that moment right there, as they’d both looked at one another with their fists in the air and turned them into the finger; giving the middle finger to the island that had bullied them for so long, through breathy smiles and wondrous awe, that Frankie realised he loved her. He fucking loved her.

I fuckin’ love you!

He’d suspected it for a while leading up to it, those sickly butterflies whenever she was near becoming more apparent. The thrumming of his heartbeat when she touched and kissed him; those early premonitions when you just know and feel giddiness from the high of meeting someone who’s so in tune to your frequency.

But that was the moment right there when it registered deep inside of the layers of his heart and winded him. Terrified, elated; utterly sound in the knowledge of the sincere truth as it flowed through his blood and over his bones.

Convinced he wouldn’t possibly feel this way again about someone, fearful that it could turn into that awful situation again where he could be selfish and push her away. But Frankie was so desperate to learn from his past mistakes, to not repeat them and be better - be better for her. 

That’s love, right? Wanting to be the best you can be for someone?

Frankie-

I fuckin’ love you!

No. No-no-no!

BRAAACE!

I fuckin’ love you!

Frankie glances over at Jude lying in the sand away from him, her back to him and slipping further and further out of his reach. 

‘Cause it’s the end and I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid to die!

Frankie turns towards the sea, and after he’s had enough of that horrific view staring back at him, he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes to stop the tears from slipping out of them again. 

The droning noise wakes her, along with the muffled sounds of shouting. Like her head is under the water and hearing it pummel her eardrums as someone is yelling above the surface. 

She sits up in the sand squinting and can see Frankie at the shoreline, waving frantically. Her eyes soon look past him to the small speedboat hurtling towards the shore. 

Jude flies up on her legs, any sense of sleep rolling right off of her as she watches Frankie’s animated face astonished, and looking back at her, as his hands continue to signal to the boat. 

The little boat with the inexorable humming noise like a swarm of hornets approaches the shore closer. Out in the distance she can see a larger boat, a little like a liner. Its grey shadow is stark on the blue horizon - a cancerous smear on a perfectly undisturbed cobalt backdrop. 

It’s all lies... wake up, you’re dreaming.

Frankie begins to swim out towards the boat and Jude pads towards the shore in complete disbelief, her heartbeat kicking it up a gear as Frankie gets closer and closer to it.

The boat skids to a halt on the surface and she watches as the person inside heaves Frankie into the boat with his arm, and Frankie points back towards the shore with flailing fingers. 

Wake up! It’s a dream!

Panic overcomes her, Jude can see Frankie waving to her, and she freezes, watching as the boat turns in the waves and holds her breath. 

No, come back! 

Circling, the boat speeds towards the shore again and the spray hits her in the face as she wanders out to it, her feet sloshing through the water, stunned and hyperventilating a little. 

Oh God! Wake up! Please, wake up!

Frankie hops out of the boat alongside the person, who turns out to be two separate people, in blue and white lifejackets. Frankie reaches out to Jude, saying words that she can’t hear or understand, almost as if he’s jabbering away in excited, fast Spanish and she can’t decipher or recognise any of the sounds as they flow from his labrose lips.

She feels him pulling her into the boat and a foiled blanket is wrapped over her shoulders, a bottle of water placed into her numb hands. 

“Wake up…” Jude mutters from trembling lips. "Wake up, wake up..."

More incomprehensible gibberish is exchanged between Frankie and the men, and she glances over her shoulder at the sight of the island suddenly shrinking away forever in the distance, reaching a gnarly hand out to her that can’t quite keep up.

Come back, Jude. Don't leave me.

It’s like an out of body experience; she’s floating and watching it happen. She pinches her arm and feels the pain ebb into her skin.

Wake up!

Frankie turns her chin towards him and presses his forehead against hers, breathing out as he pulls the blanket over her wet shoulders further. 

“We made it, hermosa.”

She remembers hearing him say it to her, but the words don’t sink in; slowly being squeezed one at a time into her ear canal making the slow journey towards her brain that’s a messy pan of sloppy scrambled eggs.

“You guys, alright?” Comes a loud voice over the sound of the engine. “You get stranded after the tsunami, your boat capsize?” 

Frankie and Jude look up simultaneously at the speaker holding onto the side of the boat whilst the other one steers it. 

Frankie shakes his head. “No, we’ve been out here f-for over a year.” He speaks up through a deep hoarse voice that’s scarred from the sea water he’s swallowed in his desperate swim towards the speedboat.

“What do you mean out here?” The man asks.

“Our plane crashed, and we-”

“Fuck, you guys were on flight eight-sixteen?” The man questions taking off his sunglasses; the concern and astonishment palpable on his face. He has frosty blue eyes that instantly remind Frankie of Will’s.

“Y-you know about that?” Frankie asks with a widening mouth.

The man nods. “Sure, the whole damn world knows about it. They didn’t find any survivors. Looked everywhere.”

“You didn’t look hard enough!” Jude suddenly shouts at him over the sound of the engine, her voice tight from being throat punched back into reality.

This isn’t a dream. She doesn’t need to wake up. She can feel the vibrations of the boat on the waves as it bounces over them. She can see the island shrinking, feel the wind in her hair. 

Frankie clutches onto her as the man dips his head in sympathy, unable to meet her stunned gaze. 

“We were always here...” She trails off, looking back out at the island in wonderment. 

Come back, Jude. Don't leave me. Come back.

“You guys are gonna be alright. You’re safe and we’ll get you home.” The man confirms putting his sunglasses back on. He reaches for the boat’s radio and speaks into the receiver, his voice swallowed up by the humming of the boat. 

Jude clings onto Frankie and looks up at him, with eyes as watery as the ocean.

“Is this really happening?” She asks him, searching his eyes for the moment she’ll wake up from this terrible, reoccurring dream she’s doomed to live through on repeat forever. 

We’re never going to get off this island. It can't be this easy.

Frankie nods with a bewildered smile through his bushy whiskers, the wind from the speed of the boat rippling through the curls behind his ears as he holds onto the cap, a giant palm flat on his head.  

Jude clutches onto his wet t-shirt and rests her head against his chest hearing his heart beating as loud and as fast as hers is, even over the sound of the speedboat. 

The larger ship in the distance is a US Navy vessel; called out in the wake of the tsunami to look for survivors, and to scout the ocean for capsized boats or people who had gotten into deep water. 

Once on the ship’s main dock, a plethora of uniformed personnel busy themselves as Frankie and Jude are ushered towards the main control room.

She clocks a helicopter on the landing pad and shudders, recalling the countless times her mind had convinced her in her sleep that Frankie was leaving her on one, shrinking in the sky.

The captain of the ship greets them both with a caramel tan stark against a crisp white shirt, regarding them with some kind of disbelief when the rescue officers explain they originate from the doomed flight that had disappeared well over a year ago. 

“Are you American?” The captain asks them both and Frankie nods. 

“We’ll call the consulate. Get you some representation to help you back home.”

“Where are we, captain?” Frankie asks, and he looks back at him with a bemused expression. 

“The SS Pendrinhas; US Navy.”

“No, I mean, where are we in the ocean? The island?” Frankie clarifies.

“You’re approximately one thousand and forty-three miles off the coast of The Prince Edward Islands. We’re in the Indian Ocean, sir.” The captain explains. 

“We are?” Frankie asks him, turning white as a ghost. 

“Yes,” the captain nods. “The island you were on is one of many scattered islands that are vastly unpopulated, surrounding the main Prince Edward Islands. You couldn’t see other peninsula points?”

Frankie shakes his head. “There was a-a ridge, but we couldn’t see any other land from that.”

“Damn. So near, yet so far,” the captain concludes with a frown, but it doesn’t offer any comfort at all. “We’ll take you down to the med bay, get you some dry clothes. It’ll be a couple hours before we reach the mainland. You look like you could do with a coffee.” The captain claps Frankie on the side of the shoulder and he winces. “Maybe something a bit stronger, huh?”

They’re both escorted down into the ship’s hull towards the med bay, passing officers stop to glance at their dishevelled appearance occasionally like they’re a rare exhibit in a museum.

Once inside the bay, another officer gathers some papers on a clipboard and proceeds to run through a list of questions, firing them off like ammo. 

“Can you... Can you leave us for a few minutes?” Frankie says to the officer, noting the painfully vacant expression on Jude’s face. A thousand yard stare he recognises only too well. 

The officer nods, looking somewhat relieved. “Sure. Take as long as you need.”

“What day is it?” Jude asks the officer, who stops and looks at her with a strained smile. 

“It’s the nineteenth of July, ma’am.”

“And the time?” Frankie follows up. 

The officer pulls back his sleeve and checks his watch. “Twenty-seven past six in the evening, sir.”

Once the grunt leaves, Frankie approaches Jude and puts his hands on her shoulders. 

“Look at me,” Frankie persuades “I’m right here, find my eyes…” and her eyes slowly find him. “We made it, we’re off the island. We’re alive, hermosa.”

It takes a few moments, a couple of beats for the words to really sink in. We made it, we’re alive. 

We’re alive.

Jude slumps forward into his arms, like she’s lost all her air and she sobs in abject relief. She feels him emit a small chuckle as he breathes out at his own realisation; his hands massaging her back up and down in deep circles soothing her, but they’re shaking. 

“We really got off the island?” She asks him, absolutely astonished and wiping at her eyes that are so dry and sore. 

Frankie pulls back looking down at her with a relieved smile; he smooths away the tear tracks from her face with his thumbs and kisses her gently on the forehead. 

“We did. I love you,” he whispers to her. 

Jude looks into his intense brown eyes, and remembers him shouting at her that he loved her right before the tsunami swallowed them up. She realises she hasn’t said it back.

But the look in his eyes right now assure her that saying the words out loud doesn't matter - he knows that she loves him back unconditionally.

When you spend that amount of time with someone - in that kind of situation - fighting for your life on a continuous basis, not only do you learn about your own resilience, but that of the person with you. You begin to depend on one another, work as a team; look out for each other’s well being, because understandably, if you can prolong their survival, you undoubtedly prolong your own. 

But not only that, you become company for that other person, a means of distraction and escape from your plight, even if it’s just temporary. Lost in the sounds of her melodic laugh, or the way in which his muddy eyes regard you as you speak.

You begin to care for that person, worry for them and soon enough, you become attached in so many ways. An intense bond that no-one else can ever understand, and it can never be severed, even if you were to part ways - forever bonded in your strife and survival.

And eventually, you grow to love them; to depend on them to the point that you can’t function through a single moment without them, and it kills you to be apart from them for even the briefest of moments. You fall in love with them.

Jude pushes her forehead against his, breathing out, and Frankie feels her breath warm his face and insides in equal measure. 

“I love you so, so much, Frankie.” Jude hiccups, holding onto him tightly. “Te quiero, te quiero.”

To be continued...

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[kyksmbappeeee]

old friends

Plot: Yn and Jude have been lovers since they were young but broke up when Jude moved to play for Borussia Dortmund

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Genre: angst

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

Past 2020

POV YN

Me and Jude have known each other since we were born. Our mothers were best friends so it was natural that we were close. When we got 7 years old I started to have a crush on him and apparently he too.  So when we became 8 years we got together. We have been together since then. Our relationship have been going on so well until couple of days ago. He decided to end our relationship because he is moving to Germany to play for Borussia Dortmund. I was so crushed. He didn't want to have a long distance relationship so he thought it was better to end everything. 

Flashback 

We were hanging out at his place and watching movies. Jude told me he needs to talk to me 

Jude: Yn I need to talk to you about something, he said

Me: yes sure what is it my love?, I asked him

Jude: I love you so much and it hurts me to do this, he said

Me: My Love you are scaring me did something happened, I interrupted and asked him 

Jude: We need to break up, he said very seriously

Me: Why did I do something bad?, I asked him with tears in my eyes

Jude: Please don't cry, Im not breaking up with you because of you I'm moving to Germany to play for Borussia Dortmund and I don't think long distance relationship will work for us, he said and tried to hug me but I pushed him away 

Me: You are so selfish, I hate you Jude Bellingham and i don't ever want to talk to you, I said running out of his house and went home and burst into tears. 

~2023

I have been working at Real Madrid for 6 months now as a physiotherapist and i really love it. The players are so nice to me and i have a good friendship with some of them like Vinicius Jr, Rodrygo, camavinga and tchoameni. We always hangs out together after the training and have a lot of fun. 

I have been dating a guy for 2 years now and he is really the best. His name is Adam and he works as an Lawyer. He is really caring and kind. My mother is really happy we are together. 

Now that it's summer we have some new players that had transfered here. We lost one of the best players here in Real, it's Karim Benzema since he decided to transfer to Al-Ittihad. So we got some new ones. And one of them is my ex Jude Bellingham. Our relationship ended in a bad way so I don't know how it will work out now.

Today I have some players that needs some help with their injuries. So today I had Camavinga and Rodrygo. So I started with Camavinga that had an injury on his ankle he got from training. Then I had Rodrygo. After I was done with them the coach called me to see the newest players 

Ancelotti: So Yn this is Arda Güler he is one of our newest midfielder and this is our other newest midfielder Jude Bellingham, he said 

When I saw Jude it felt like my heart sank. I haven't seen him since that day we broke up. He looks more handsome now than he did before. When he saw me it was like his body froze. I just turned around and walked away and went in to my office. I felt like I was about to cry. 

After collecting my thoughts I heard a knock on the door 

Me: Come in, I said

X: Yn?, the familiar voice said and I know who it was without even looking who it was

Me: Jude leave please, I said

Jude: Yn please let us talk, he said pleading with me to talk to him

Me: we have nothing to talk about, you lost your right to talk to me after you broke up with me, I said with tears in my eyes

Jude: It was the worst decision I ever made, I shouldn't have broken up with you, please can you give me another chance?, he asked

Me: Sorry, but no I can't give you any chances, I said

Jude: Okey I understand I know I hurted you so much, but can we at least be friends?, he asked

Me: It will take some time but yes we can, I said

Jude: Great can I take you out for dinner tonight to celebrate our friendship, he said

Me: No I'm sorry I'm busy today, I said

Jude: Oh okey, see you, he said smiling 

Me: Yes sure, bye Judith, I said laughing 

Jude: No not that nickname, he said complaining 

Me: Hahah what it's cute, I said laughing 

Jude: yes whatever bye, he said rolling his eyes while smiling.

[otomefiend]

Alfons Sylvatica & Elbert Greetia

Collection Event: The past records

Chapter 1

Every little snippet makes me love Al & El even more. 🙃

A little while before the little robin got lost in the dark night...

~~~

Liam: "What are you looking at, Al? Are those photos?"

Alfons: "Mhm, from the time when Lord El was a little boy. I came across them when rummaging through the valuables in his room.

Liam: "Ahh, what a little angel."

The album held by Alfons contained many photographs of Elbert.

Alfons: "This one is from the time when a photographer came to Greetia household demanding to take a photo of El and not taking a no for an answer."

Alfons: "I felt sorry for El, who looked stiff, unable to move."

Alfons: "Here, El was 10 years old."

Alfons: "This one was taken when he was put in a dress by some pervert(s) who wanted to take pictures of him in `a cute outfit while he was still pretty`."

Alfons: "Well, he certainly looked cute."

Liam: "If you know all of this, does it mean you were already with Lord El back then?"

Alfons: "It'd seem so, yes."

Liam: "Huh? But I can only see pictures of Elbert in here and not a single one of yours, Al?"

Alfons: "I don't like photos."

Alfons: "Besides, people behind the camera were satisfied with capturing Elbert."

Alfons: "I was pouting in a corner, playing with a cat."

Liam: "Haha, you went through such a cute phase yourself."

Alfons: "Excuse me. I'm breaking the new cuteness record with every passing moment."

Liam: "Still, it seems strange. Why are you with Lord El?"

Alfons: "Why are you asking this out of the blue?"

Liam: "Because... It seems El isn't capable to live without you, Al."

Liam: "You, on the other hand, don't seem like the type to stick to one place or one person."

Alfons: "That's just like you! I'm touched that you know me so well. Look, I'm crying."

Liam: "Jeez -- let me finish."

Liam: "I just thought that there must be a deeper reason for you to have such a long and meaningful relationship with someone."

Alfons: "...There's no deep reason for it."

Alfons: "Though if I had to say something, then it'd be that I left whether to stay with him or not down to chance, after he slowly grew on me..."

Liam: "Left it to chance?"

Roger: "Are you talking about that crazy game you play against El time to time?"

Roger interjected after suddenly approaching them and taking a drink from the shelf.

Liam: "Huh? You know about it!?"

Roger: "Does it mean that you don't?"

Liam: "Eh? Am I, by chance, the only one who doesn't?"

Roger: "Well, Jude and Ellis might not know since they recently joined the Crown."

Liam: "Phew, I'm glad it's not just me then."

Alfons: "I was having a pleasant chat with Liam."

Roger: "That's fine, I just invited myself in."

Liam: "So, what's the game you've mentioned?"

Alfons: "We call it the Dead or Alive Game."

Liam: "Dead or... what? Disturbing name."

Alfons: "Heh, your eyes lit up at the mere mention of danger."

Liam: "You know that 'curiosity' is my weakness, and you're trying to tempt me."

Alfons: "-- We try it once a year."

Alfons: "Will I continue to live by Lord El's side or... will I disappear?"

Liam: "How come...?

Alfons: "Well... at first, it was just an idea."

~~~

This was shortly after I had been placed in the care of the Greetia family.

Having just lost his father, Lord Elbert was very unstable.

As Liam had said, I didn't like the idea of interfering in people's lives,

So, unsurprisingly, soon enough I felt it was time for me to leave the mansion.

I guess being young back then, my consciousness opposed to the idea of leaving him alone. I decided to make a bet.

Alfons: "Lord Elbert, I've made you some tea. Would you like a cup?"

Elbert: "...... thank you, Alfons. ...no need to call me `Lord`.".

Alfons: "It's not because of you--- it's that butler of yours being a nuisance."

Elbert: "...... then, you can call me whatever you like."

Alfons: "Why?"

Elbert: "You're... my only friend."

Alfons: "...hmm."

Alfons: "So, um, the tea."

Alfons: "Which one would you like to drink?"

~~~

Liam: "So that's how the game started? Which part of it was Dead or Alive?"

Alfons: "One of the teas I brewed was an ordinary Darjeeling tea."

Alfons: "The other cup was filled with a poison that could take you to the other side after just one mouthful!"

~~~

[archiveikemen]

Ellis Twilight Main Story: Chapter 0

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

Ellis: That’s all Jude told me to report.

Victor: Thank you, you’ve done well for this mission. … Looks like things got rather rough tonight.

Ellis: Huh? Oh…

I looked down at my bloodied shirt and understood the reason for Victor’s wry smile.

Tonight’s mission indeed took longer to complete than expected.

Ellis: I was aiming for the heart, but their flesh was thicker than I thought, so my knife didn't go very deep.

Ellis: I felt sorry for them because I couldn’t make them die an instant death.

Victor: And as always, you continued with your mission calmly, but… have you ever had a hard time completing missions?

(Have I…)

The members of “Crown”, the imperial organisation under direct command of Her Majesty the Queen, took missions ranging from gathering information to assassinations.

Not long after I joined them, did I realise that some of us weren't entirely indifferent to taking the lives of others.

If anything, I thought it was normal to feel that way.

(But…)

Ellis: Not particularly.

Victor: … That’s great then. Could you also convey my thanks to Jude on my behalf?

Ellis: Mm, got it.

…

Picking flowers, putting them together in a bouquet, and displaying them in a shop.

Polishing dirty shoes with cream and a brush.

To me, my job being to kill people felt no different from those regular jobs.

As long as it didn't involve my personal desires, I never hesitated to kill.

(If ever I hesitate to kill someone—)

(It’ll definitely be because I want to kill them.)

(It'll be when I harbour such selfish thoughts.)

In order to avoid that — I put a tightly sealed lid over my desires.

Never again… will I turn the happiness of someone I love into a fake.

…

Little Boy: Waaahh…!

Ellis: …!

No matter how bloody the night got, it would always be followed by a bright morning.

While I was at the market on some business for the Jude and the company, I came across a little boy bawling his eyes out.

(He doesn't seem to be injured… is he lost?)

I was about to approach him, when a postwoman nearby quickly crouched down next to the crying boy and comforted him.

Her gentle demeanour seemed to help him calm down a little.

(... That's good. In that case, I shall—)

I looked around the area…

(Ah, over there.)

I spotted the person I was looking for. My relatively tall height gave me an advantage in crowds.

Ellis: By any chance, are you looking for a lost child?

Teary-Eyed Woman: Y-Yes, do you know where he is…!?

I pointed in the direction of the little boy, and the woman immediately ran towards him.

I watched as the facial expressions of the postwoman, little boy, and the woman who seemed to be his mother brightened up.

(... I’m glad.)

If possible, I want everyone I meet to be happy.

I don’t want anyone to be unhappy.

If there’s anything I can do to make them happy, I will.

(Because… happiness is easily broken.)

(It doesn’t matter how wonderful the person is, or how much they hope for an ordinary day.)

…

Happiness, like the twilight sky, was transient.

(... See?)

It was a typical night where we were on a mission as usual, and Crown had just taken the life of our target.

Then came the sound of a woman’s happiness shattering.

William: Now look who we have here, aren't you the little robin I met earlier today?

Kate: Um… uhh… eeh…?

The lady was trembling with blood splattered on her pale face.

She was likely that postwoman I saw in town earlier in the day.

(... Poor lady.)

My heart ached when I recalled the happy smile on her face when that mother found her lost son.

The things we did as Crown were top secret.

This darkness should never be made known to people who live in the sun.

If they ever find out about it — there would be no going back to their original lives.

(That’s why, at the very least…)

…

Ellis: Do we kill her?

Ellis: She doesn’t look happy at all, but I’ll do it if it’s for work.

(At the very least, she’ll be freed from suffering if I kill her.)

The room went silent.

The postwoman who introduced herself as Kate trembled pitifully.

Victor: Hmm. Let me think…

(Once he decides to kill Kate, I’ll make it quick for her.)

(That way, she won’t have to suffer from the fear and anxiety any longer.)

While awaiting Victor’s response, I reached for my knife, and at that moment—

Kate: I swear that I will NEVER breathe a word about ANYTHING I just heard!

Kate declared with an assertive voice.

Victor: Hmm… huh? What?

Kate: I will keep all that information strictly confidential. I work as a postwoman, I’m professionally trained to keep secrets!

(...)

Victor • William: …

(Victor and Will seem surprised.)

I was surprised by her response as well, and I found myself unable to take my eyes off her.

Even though Kate was in a potentially life-threatening situation, she didn’t seem to have given up on wanting to live.

Kate: If you don’t trust me, you can go ahead and keep a close eye on me until you do.

Kate: I’ll prove to you through my actions that I’m worthy of your trust.

(... I believe in you.)

I believe that you’ll return to your original life.

I believe that you’ll smile with joy once again.

In this darkness where the sun doesn't shine, I believe in you.

(—... How lovely.)

Her profile was dazzling, like the setting sun before it disappeared in the horizon—.

(I want to see you smile again.)

(Like how you did when I saw you in town.)

Having those thoughts felt so natural to me.

If only this didn't have to be “The End” because of my job.

If only there was a “continuation” of your happiness.

(I want to make you happy.)

As I gazed at Kate’s look of determination—

— For some reason, an image of the twilight on the happiest day of my life appeared in my mind.

[jusalle]

☆ Jude Bellingham Imagine ☆

° Oh my days °

"Fuck"

You were currently at practice, you played for Manchester United.

The practice had just ended and they extended it so they added 4 more hours so now you were late than usual to get home.

Usually during practice you would check your phone every once in awhile to see if Jude had texted you or anything.

Although today, coach had you guys practice without any breaks. It was one of those days where everyone was tense and wanted to train hard especially since we lost our recent match.

As you were sitting on the bench, you looked at your phone and saw you had 17 missed calls from Jude.

You knew he was probably freaking out since you were 4 hours late

As soon you were going to call him your phone completely turned black.

What my fucking luck, it died

You groaned and signed and everyone looked at you and could tell you were irritated, so they didn't bother you.

You got up and went to the lockerooms and grabbed all your bags, not even bothering to tell anyone goodbye or even to change.

As soon you got into your car you stared to drive home to your lovely boyfriend Jude.

You felt bad because you knew he was probably shitting his pants wondering where you are.

He's definitely going to kill me

As soon you got home you got your bags from the car and walked inside. As you walked into the living room.

You saw a very angry Jude.

" It's almost midnight, where the hell were you?!" Jude said angrily

" Love, I'm sorry they made practice-"

" I was worried sick Y/n, I was calling and you never picked up. I thought something bad had happend to you" Jude said firmly

" Jude-"

" I was calling everyone Y/n, it's fucking midnight. I was literally going crazy over here Y/n."

"Jude let me-"

" you need to stop doing stupid shit like that Y/n"

" Darling-"

When is this man going to let me talk

" Y/n-"

" Jude let me explain please, you keep cutting me off" you said quickly so he couldn't interupt you once again.

He finally stopped so you took the chance to finally tell him.

" Darling, they extended practice and they added an extra 4 hours and I'm sorry for making you worried but coach didn't even let us have a break and the time I looked at my phone it was dead." You said softly as you got out your phone and showed your boyfriend that your phone was indeed dead.

" Love, I'm sorry I would never do that to you" you said softly as you approached Jude and put your hands on both of his cheeks.

" You don't have to worry now, I'm here now, I'm right in front of you standing love"

Once he felt your touch his body and emotions relaxed and he wasn't so tense anymore and looked at your eyes with guilt.

" I'm sorry my love-"

"There's no need to apologize my love" you said gently

" It's okay, I'm here Jude" you said and you gently placed a loving kiss on Jude lips which he gladly accepted.

" I'm okay, you're okay, we're okay" Jude said whispering to him as if reassuring himself.

His body instantly melted once you said that. Although you could tell that he was still was stressing since his face looked stressed out.

Your chest ached, it ached since you caused him to stress, you simply felt guilty.

" My love, go to bed it's already late, I'll make you something." You said softly with a soft gaze.

" Darling you don't have to do tha-"

" I insist my love, please" you replied as you pleaded.

Jude looked at you and could tell you wouldn't let it go, so he walked to the bedroom and followed your orders.

You decided to make Jude's favorite dish because you simply felt bad for the man. Also this was your way of saying 'sorry' in a way.

As you finished making the meal you took it to Jude.

As you walked into the room you noticed Jude sitting on the bed just on his phone. Once you walk through the door, you catch Jude's attention and looks at you.

" I made you favorite dish Jude" you said with a small smile on your lips.

Once Jude heard that, his face instantly smiled.

You placed the plate on his lap and he began eating happily with a grin on his face.

As he finished, he looked at you with a smile and pappered you with sweet kisses.

You simply laughed at his actions and you smiled happily.

" Thank you love" Jude said as he kissed you gently

" My pleasure, my love" you replied.

You gave him a quick peck and distracted him and grabbed his plate and ran to the kitchen.

" Where are you going!" Jude hollard to you from the bedroom and you could tell by his voice he was pouting which made you chuckle.

You began laughing as you knew Jude heard you.

Few minutes later you heard Jude yell.

" Thank you my love, I love you!" He yelled once again.

You simply laughed at his cuteness and replied.

" I love you to Darling!" You yelled to Jude from the kitchen.

☆•☆•☆•

Hello my lovlies, this one was cute in my opinion but I hope you guys enjoy once again!🤍

[corriganatheart]

If I Should Stay / Jude Bellingham x reader pt 2

Requested: as requested from @evansxchalamet

Synopsis: After five months of losing one another, Jude and you finally reconcile and try to move on from the past.

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem!reader

Genre: 18+, heartbreaking but happy ending

Warning: mention of miscarriage

Groaning from the sound of his alarm, Jude tries to reach over his nightstand, only for his other arm to resist. He frowns, thinking he has once again slept in an uncomfortable position, but after hearing another soft groan, his eyes widen.

Instead of the new white sheets that he has become accustomed to, Jude’s eyes were met with your sleepy face and the strands of hair splattered on his arms. His eyes softened after remembering what had happened last night. It must’ve been five o clock when you guys finally went to sleep after whispering apologies to one another, wiping each other’s tears, and stating how much you missed one another. He didn’t even care that he only had one hour of sleep because you were in his arms again.

“Shit,” Jude mumbles after he hears the alarm goes off again. He reaches as far as he can without moving his head and can finally grab his phone. He had about one hour before practice but didn’t want to leave you, but the World Cup was coming up, and his teammates would kill him if he missed practice. He almost said fuck the World Cup, because your sleepy face was so calm, and it has been a while since he saw you relaxed; he can watch you all day. “Baby,” he whispers while moving the loose strands of hair out of your face. You mumble something that he can’t quite understand, but it is cute as hell. “I have to get up for practice. I’ll see you when I come back, ok?” He asked, even though he knew you probably weren’t listening. Jude smiles when you sheepishly nod without opening your eyes and pull the warm cover up more. He then kisses your forehead and quietly gets out of bed.

“Well, someone’s in a good mood,” Trent says while listening to Jude whistling to a song. It was now a rare sight to see Jude walk into the practice field all smiling and laughing. The last couple of months were filled with sad Jude, angry Jude, nontalkative Jude, and anything that no one was used to. “He must’ve finally gotten his balls sucked,” Marcus said, causing Trent to laugh. The duo then watched as Jude reached down his pocket to grab his phone, only for him to plaster the big smile that had been a rare sight. The duo's eyes soften after seeing the young player return to his old self again. “I guess they’re ok now,” Marcus says with a warm smile. Trent nod and clasp his hands together. “I was going to kill Jude if he lost that girl,” he said with a smile that had two different meanings. Marcus holds his gaze on Trent and nods knowingly before patting him on the back. “You did well holding your feelings, mate,” Marcus says.

The whole practice, Jude was all laughing and giggling with everything; it was a sight to behold. England’s National team was going to the World Cup, and Jude was excited to play. He was more excited to invite you to Qatar because that would be the first trip you guys had since the incident. It would allow him to see new places with you while doing something he loves. “Yo, Brazil is voted as number one to most likely win the World Cup,” Harry says, causing Jude to lose his smile. He frowns, thinking about the high chances of Neymar winning the World Cup while you were there. When he met you, you were a massive fan of PSG, and over time, you became a fan of Dortmund, but you were still a Neymar girl. Jude huffs at the thought of you cheering for Brazil. Although he knew you wouldn’t do that, it still makes him jealous. “Chill, dude, no one is taking Bellingham’s girl,” Trent nudges his elbow. Jude rolls his eyes and passes the ball to his teammate, who has been on his case this morning about you. “When are we seeing Y/N again?” Trent asks with a knowing grin. Jude shrugged, but the smile returned to him at the thought of you. “Hope to see her at the World Cup; we do miss her cheerleading skills,” Trent said, and Jude glared at him after seeing the flustered look on Trent’s face. It was no surprise that some of his teammates were attracted to you despite you being his girlfriend, but he knew they would never try anything with you. With that being said, many of his opponents had asked for your numbers several times when you used to watch their games, and sometimes it makes Jude insecure because some of them were much more famous or mature than him, but he can tell you never cared for that. “You trying to score the opening goal?” Trent asked him. Jude smiles, knowing the answer to that and who the dedication will go to.

You scroll through your Instagram feed to see contents you have missed out on. It was mainly about soccer since most of the people you follow are Jude’s teammates and their significant others. Many of Jude’s England National Football teammates post about their excitement for the World Cup, and you smile warmly, thinking about Jude’s achievements. You still remember when he would constantly say that he wanted to play for the World Cup before he turned 21, and here he was, being one of the youngest players to go to the World Cup. After nearly hearting all the posts, you return to your profile which still has the private lock. You used to be public about your life, but after the numerous spam comments, Jude asked you to turn your Instagram private and only allow family and friends to see your post. It was a good call because many people were spamming his account with hate comments after the dating rumors between him and the Instagram model.

You were in the middle of making some sandwiches when you heard the door slam. You didn’t have to turn around to know that Jude was coming to you. Your back was turned against him when he came up and kissed your cheek. The smell of soap combined with cologne was still fresh, meaning he must have showered at the stadium. You continue making sandwiches when he kisses your exposed neck and shoulders. It has been a while since you guys were this close to one another, and it felt good. You can tell that Jude felt the same way because his hands were wrapped around your waist while he inhaled your scent and tried to kiss as much of your exposed skin as possible. It was comforting to know that even after the distance between you two for the past months, he still cared and still cherished you as before. “I want you to go to Qatar with me,” he said while placing his head on your right shoulder. “Isn’t there a policy about players and guests staying at the same hotel?” You asked. Jude hummed and shrugged, “fuck the policy. If they don’t let you stay with me, I’ll just book the nearest hotel,” he said. “I don’t know, Jude, Qatar’s culture doesn’t really allow unmarried people to stay in the same room,” you said and turned to look at him. Your back was against the counter now, and Jude had you trapped between his arms. He stared down at you like you would disappear if he blinked. “Qatar’s culture can never separate you from me. You’re my woman, and I am your man,” he says and leans in to kiss you, but you stop him by placing your hand on his chest. Jude looks frustrated by that, but he waits for your next move. "I don't know, Jude," you smiled innocently, and he knew you would say something that would probably make him mad. "My favorite player is going to be there; I wouldn't want him to think I am taken," you tease. Jude rolls his eyes and lifts your chin up so you wouldn't be able to look away. "Everyone knows you are my woman, and I won't hesitate to beat any players if that means they back the fuck up. You know I will," he said with a smirk reminding you of his past altercation with other soccer players. You smile and finally let go of the hand on his chest, and you stand on your toes now while Jude places his hands on your hips. You wrap your arms around his neck, causing Jude to smile; you always did that before you kissed him. "It will always be you, Jude, no one else but you," you whisper before finally locking your lips with his.

Jude swears he was going to fight his coach when they told him he would have to board England's private plane instead of going with you. It was already enough that his teammates teased him during practice, but now he had to be stuck with them on the plane and them constantly teasing him about the hickeys on his neck. Trent went on and on about how he thought you were an innocent girl, and it got to the point where Marcus had to shut him up because it was getting a little too inappropriate. Jude doesn't mind the teasing, but sometimes he finds it a little annoying when Trent takes it too far, and by now, everyone knows why. "Remember, Jude, you are still young. We don't need little Bellingham's running around the field yet!" Trent yelled down the hallway causing Marcus to glare at him while Jude shook his head. It was kind of ironic because Jude actually wouldn't mind little Bellingham’s running around the house. It might be the fact that you were pregnant and almost had his child. If it was someone else, he probably would have a different reaction. Jude sighs and slumps himself down the bed, thinking about the baby again. Although you guys had promised to move on, he still can't stop thinking about the future. The miscarriage was so traumatizing that you might not want to have kids with him again. He even noticed your panicky face when you guys had sex a couple of days ago. He had worn a condom as promised, but you still looked unsure about him cumming inside. The thought of you not enjoying sex with him because of the incident isn't something he wants because he would do anything to make sure you are equally pleased. Jude sighs and looks at the time on his phone; you still have two hours before your flight lands, giving him plenty of time to fix himself up.

Jude expected you to look beautiful and perfect, but his eyes nearly popped out when he saw you walk out of the bathroom. You were wearing a champagne satin midi dress, your hair was in loose curls, and everything matched perfectly. When he picked you up from the airport this evening, you looked cute with black sweats and an oversize black hoodie. You also looked exhausted, so he offered that you guys stay in instead of going out to the group dinner, but you suggested going since the other player's girlfriends will also join. But when you told him that you’d try to look exceptional, he thought you were going with something simple, but he didn’t expect you to go all out. He wasn’t complaining; you looked perfect. So perfect that he wanted to keep you in the hotel room, just so the others couldn’t see you with that dress on.

“Jude, is there a problem?” You asked while fixing your hair to reveal your collarbone. Jude didn’t know what to do, and his pants were getting a little too tight. “Jude?” You asked again, and your voice was a little more concerned now…the sound of insecurity.

Jude inhales his breath and shakes his head after seeing your face. He was so caught up in unholy thoughts that he forgot how much this night meant to you. It was the first night since the accident that you’ll be out, and you’re most likely nervous about people’s reaction and question you about your whereabouts. He also recognizes a bit of insecurity when you fidget with the dress and try to suck in your breath to hide a little bit of tummy that you’ve gained. Jude looks at you with adoration as he walks up to you and tuck a strand of hair behind your ears. “You’re so beautiful I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he said and kissed the top of your head. You felt your nerves calm down from his words and lean into his warm arms. Everything will be ok; Jude is by your side and will never leave.

It took a while, but some fans from England spotted Jude and asked for his autographs and photos, which caused more people to approach, but it was ok; you watched from afar and even took pictures with them. Most of his fans are supportive of the relationship, though, in the beginning, they were skeptical because you guys were so young; as time passed, they realized how important you were to Jude, and they accepted you. “My girlfriend is waiting for me; I’m hungry sorry, guys,” Jude said and waved bye to his fans before he walked over to you. “Sorry, babe,” he apologized and intertwined his fingers with yours. You shook your head and smiled at him before following him into the restaurant.

Upon entering the restaurant, numerous eyes were on you guys, and the waiter recognized Jude and asked to follow him. He then kindly guided you guys to a private room far from the other guest, and upon opening the door, you could hear his teammate's loudness. “There they are! The Bellingham!” Kane shouted after spotting you guys. You smiled and wave at the his teammates who were surprised and delighted to see you. Jude guided you guys towards Marcus and sat down next to him. “Woah, it’s been so long,” Marcus said while leaning forward to speak to you since Jude was between you guys. “I know. Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you guys,” you apologized. Marcus shook his head, “no, we are just glad you are back. It’s good to see Jude all smiley again,” he wiggled his eyebrows, causing you to look away shyly.

“Hey,” you look across from you to see Trent leaning on his right hand, staring at you. “Hi, Trent,” you smiled. Trent smiles back and continues to stare at you. You always thought Trent was very friendly, and maybe it was because he is Jude's best friend, but after one of the other player’s girlfriends pointed out Trent’s interest in you, you distance yourself from him out of respect for Jude. “How have you been?” Trent asked, still staring at you like a hawk. “Fine.” You smiled and felt Jude’s hands stiffen a little. You squeeze his hands to assure him everything will be fine. “You’re watching our game tomorrow, right?” Trent asked. You didn’t get to respond because Jude interrupted you, “of course, she is. She’s my girlfriend,” he said; more like a warning. You chuckled at his possessiveness and leaned in to kiss him on his cheek. Jude turns to you and smiles, and gently strokes the side of your face. “Ugh,” you heard Foden say with a disgusted look. “You two are so in love it makes me sick.”

The dinner went better then you thought the team didn’t plaster you with questions, mainly because they were too focused on discussing tomorrow's game. Marcus and his girlfriend left early, giving the excuse that they wanted to sleep, but everyone knew what was going to do down. Foden continues to joke about your relationship with Jude and how disgusted he is about you guys being in love, but you know he meant that in a good way. Trent didn’t say much, but you caught him staring a couple of times before he averted his eyes. And by the time you guys left, the restaurant was starting to empty, everyone getting ready for the game tomorrow.

You wave at the representatives of England’s team when you finally make your way to your bench. You and some of the other players' girlfriends are sitting a couple of benches behind the coaches. It was nerve-wracking being among thousands of people, knowing there were cameras everywhere. Some people have recognized you as Jude Bellingham’s girlfriend and took some videos causing you to freak out, but after settling down in your seat, you calmed down. This is supposed to be about Jude and his team, no one else but them. You smile when you saw the team finally entering the field. Jude was the last one to exit, and man, did he look beautiful in England’s jersey. He smiled when he spotted you a couple of benches behind his coaches, and his eyes remained on you when you guys sang your national anthem.

England was doing well. And it happened so fast you almost fainted. The commentator shouted your boyfriend's name, and the crowd screamed his name. Jude has just scored a goal and it happened so fast your heart couldn’t take it. Your boyfriend has scored the opening goal for England, and the whole stadium was he was screaming his name. Jude was celebrating with his teammates before he turned to where you were standing and pointed at you. Your eyes widened, remembering the promise he made last night. “I’m going to score the opening goal and dedicate it to you. The person who has believed me since day one,” he said while you guys were cuddling. “And what if you don’t?” You asked, even though you know he probably will. Jude turns to his side and pulls your naked bodies together. “If it’s for you, I definitely will,” he said confidently.

You felt tears falling down your cheeks as your eyes remained on Jude’s. His eyes widened from seeing the tears, and he mouthed something; I love you. The camera must be on you because the crowd got louder, but your eyes remained on Jude. He didn’t break the eye contact until one of his teammates pulled him away.

“Jude, that was incredible!” You happily said and wrapped your arms around his waist. Jude smiles and pulls you into a hug, his hand softly stroking the back of your head as he whispers several thank you. “I was able to do this because of you, baby,” he whispers, and you feel a gentle kiss on top of your head. You blushed at the thought of him showing affection when there were still cameras around. “Alright, Ima go drown myself,” you heard Foden say behind you.

You looked at the crumpled photo in your hand. The sight of it doesn’t make you sad anymore but makes you more brave and more determined, never to let that happen again. You know you and Jude still has a long way to go until your the relationship can be perfect, and that was ok. Every relationship has its ups and down, and this was one of the worse cases, but even after five months of constantly ignoring each other, you guys pulled through because you love one another, and that was the reassurance you both needed.

“Baby?” You heard call from the inside. “I’m out here!” You said, and he slid open the door to the balcony. “Woah,” Jude says when he sees the night view. It was a perfect view of his hotel and the soccer studio. Qatar was also a beautiful city, especially at night. “What are you thinking?” He asked while leaning on the rail. You smiled and showed him the ultrasound photo. Jude’s eyes soften, and he goes behind you to loosely wrap his arm around your neck. “Thank you for being so strong,” Jude says, “I should’ve been there to comfort you, but I was scared you would hate me more. I couldn’t let that happen; I would lose my mind if you left me.” He said and you felt the sincerity in his voice. “Jude, I should be the one to apologize. I pushed you away and hid the truth from you. I’m so sorry,” you said. Jude didn’t say anything, instead he placed a gentle kiss on your head. “Wait a little longer, Y/N. Once this World Cup ends and I sign on to a big league, I will give you everything you desire. I will give you the life you have always wanted, and you won’t have to worry about anything anymore, baby. Just wait, and I’ll give you everything you desire.” You smiled warmly at that, but Jude didn’t understand that you had everything already. “Jude,” you said. “Yes, baby?” He responds immediately. “I already have everything.”

Bonus

“Omg, there he is!” You happily jump from the couch. Jude frowns, watching you fan girl over Neymar through the tv screen. He was glad you didn’t request to see the game in person because people would definitely roast him. “He’s not that good looking,” Jude says with a scowl on his face. You rolled your eyes at him and peck his lips. “Don’t get your panty in a twist, babe; I like him because he is a good player,” you winked. Jude rolls his eyes and ruffle your hair. “He’s lucky he didn’t have to play me because I would’ve made sure his fake injuries were real injuries,” he said. You glared at him, causing him to avert his eyes. “Don’t be jealous! You’re much hotter, and you know that,” you exclaimed, causing Jude to smile. “I know baby, and Neymar wishes he can steal you away from me. You’re mine and only mine.”

[wjhik]

Why Are You Doing This To Me?! (Jude Bellingham)

A/N: guys im way too proud of this one. so much angst so much heartbreak. gaslighter!jude so much fun PLEASE COMMENT ANYTHING I LOVE READING THEM

As my birthday approached, I clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, tonight would be different. I planned a special dinner for just the two of us, maybe a chance to reconnect and rediscover the love Jude and I had lost over the past 5 years. I was there for him at his worst at Dortmund, and now his best at Madrid, but as the hours ticked by and Jude failed to show, any remaining hope turned to despair. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I blew out the candles to my homemade chocolate cake, as per Jude’s request, alone, the flickering flames a cruel reflection of my shattered dreams.

↭

I sat on the edge of Jude and I’s bed, my fingers tracing aimless patterns on the wrinkled sheets beneath me. The clock on the bedside table mocked me with each passing second, a cruel reminder of Jude's absence. He had been drifting further away with each passing day, lost in the shitty late-nights with his friends. Our once vibrant relationship had begun to crumble, leaving me alone to pick up the shattered pieces of my heart.

I had given everything up for Jude. I left everything I knew to come to Dortmund to be with him. I gave up scholarships to end up going to a shitty college in a country where I knew no one, but I never complained, because I was with the love of my life. A few years in, I had finally settled down, but Jude decided he was too good for Germany, so he made the move to Madrid with not a thought about me. He wouldn't hesitate to leave me behind if I didn’t make it work, but being the dumbass I am, I made it work. I moved out here to Madrid with him just for me to see him, if I’m lucky, twice a week, despite living together.

Unable to bear the silence of our empty house any longer, I made the decision. The decision I would regret forever. I went to Jude's regular bar, the place where he often chilled in the company of his friends. Pushing open the door, I was greeted by the familiar scent of stale beer and laughter. But, unexpectedly, Jude was nowhere to be found. My heart started pounding, thinking about the worst possible situations. I scanned the room to see a group of some of Jude’s teammates. I let out a sigh of false relief, suspecting maybe he was using the toilet or something. Desperation clawed at my chest as I approached Vini.

"Vini, have you seen Jude tonight?" I asked the Brazilian, my voice trembling with emotion, hoping and praying that he knew.

His eyes were glassy and unfocused, words slurred from far too many drinks. "Yeah, he left a while ago," he mumbled, pointing vaguely in the direction of the exit. “With someone…” He softly added on softly. “With who?!” I exclaimed. “Just one of his friends, don’t worry.” Luka adds on. “Where’d he go?” I asked, slightly shivering. “I don’t know.” They said, miserably lying. “Please.” I plead, tears in my eyes.

↭

I heart sank unhealthily deep in my chest as I shoved my phone back into my pocket, the address burning in the forefront of my mind. I started the 30-minute walk to the given location, all sorts of horrible thoughts in my head. Who is this friend? Do I know him? Why would Jude not tell me? Why were the guys keeping it a secret? Is he with another girl? 

↭

With trembling hands, I pressed the doorbell, my pulse racing with anticipation as if I had run 5 marathons with no break. The door swung open, revealing Jude. He was shirtless, bruises all over his uncovered chest, bruises I didn’t leave. He looked around briefly until his eyes meet my wet ones. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” Jude asked me, much too surprised for anything innocent, his voice tinged with guilt. Before I got the chance to reply, I heard a voice calling his name from the next room. I heard light footsteps approaching my boyfriend. “Baby, who’s there?” She asked. My heart instantly dropped. Anguish surged through my veins as the truth dawned on her. 

The beautiful woman wearing lacy lingerie and a silk robe places a kiss on the back of Jude’s neck before clinging onto his arm. “Can we help you?” She asked, far too nicely. My eyes filled with tears as I struggled to find my voice. "Who is she?" I whispered, ignoring the girl on Jude’s arm in my place and locking eyes with my ‘boyfriend’, my heart breaking with each and every word

Jude's gaze shifted uncomfortably, his grip on the other girl tightening. "She's just a friend," he insisted, but his words fell on my deaf ears. Her eyes widened as she realized who was standing at her front step.

A torrent of emotions flooded through me as I screamed all sorts of horrid curses at Jude, each accusation tearing at our already fragile bond. “You’re a cheating, lying bastard! All these fucking years I wasted on you, you’re going to throw that all away for this?! And on my fucking birthday?!” I couldn't understand how the man I loved with all my heart could betray me like this, how he could throw away everything we had built together for the sake of a fleeting moment of pleasure.

“Love, you’re hyperventilating. You’ll pass out at this rate. Please come inside.” The woman offers. She sat me down on her couch as I uncontrollably sobbed and screamed at Jude. She disappeared for a moment into her kitchen and came back with a glass of water. 

Our argument echoed through the empty hallway, or should I say my yelling, because Jude had nothing to say. All of my insecurities that Jude has ever reassured bubbled to the surface, fueled by years of my doubt and his neglect. I was small and insignificant. I didn't matter in Jude's eyes anymore. I didn’t matter in anyone’s eyes. 

Jude stepped away from my shaking body to cross paths with his ‘new girl’. I couldn’t hear everything except for something along the lines of: “You’re right, Jude. She’s not well. She needs help.” It sounded sympathetic. I stood up and continued yelling. “You made me seem like I’m fucking crazy! You fucking asshole, you ruined everything! Anybody would go crazy with all the shit you put me through!” The two got startled and came over to comfort me once again. I felt like I was nothing. Nothing but a mentally ill, crazy bitch. I felt like it was all my fault. Maybe Jude wasn’t wrong to cheat on me. “It’s okay, darling. Just breathe.” The girl comforts me. 

↭

Somewhere along the lines of screaming and crying, I had given out and fallen asleep on my boyfriend’s side chick’s couch. This was probably my lowest point ever. My eyes shot open and the tears fell out once again. I looked around to see no one there. I heard a sweet voice coming from the other room. I went over to see Jude on her bed, head in his hands, and her hugging and comforting him. Jude looked up and immediately shot up. He moved towards me and hugged me. 

"Y/N, let's go home. You’re so exhausted." he said softly, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.

I hesitated, torn between the desire to lash out at this fucker who broke my heart and the girl he broke it with or the longing for comfort they both were giving me. But in the end, I nodded, allowing Jude to drive me back to our shared house. The journey was filled with a heavy silence, the weight of his unspoken words hanging in the air like a thick fog, my words were all spoken. I laid my head on the window, unable to hold back my tears.

As we entered the house, once called a home, the tension between us was obvious. You could break it with the dullest of knives. I looked at the man I once loved who didn’t hesitate to throw me aside like a broken toy. But to my own surprise, I wasn’t leaving. I always preached about leaving your cheater boyfriends, but I truly had no one else.

"I'm not leaving," I said, my words hanging in the air like a lifeline. “I have nowhere else to go. You’re all I know."

And with those simple words, I thought the fragile remnants of our love were stitched back together, a patchwork of broken promises and shattered dreams, but I was wrong. 

"I have to go, Y/N," Jude's voice broke through the heavy silence, his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud.

My heart skipped a beat, confusion etched into every line of my face. What is he doing? I’m letting him have his happy ending. What the fuck is happening? "What do you mean?" I whispered, my voice barely audible in pure confusion.

Jude took a deep breath, his gaze filled with sadness and regret. "I'm leaving you, Y/N," he said, each word like a dagger to my heart. "Cassie… she's pregnant. I'm going to be a father, and I’m really happy about it."

The world seemed to spin out of control as I struggled to comprehend the enormity of Jude's betrayal. Tears welled up in my eyes as I stared at him, unable to find the words to express the depth of my pain. “Jude, I’m giving you what you want here. I’m supposed to be the independent woman and leave you, but I’m not. I’m staying. What the fuck are you doing to me?” I say, sobbing as I try to plead my case. 

“Y/N, please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He said, walking into the bedroom to get his pre-packed suitcase, me trailing behind. “Listen, I was planning on doing this anyways. The house is all yours. I don’t need it.” He says, handing me his keys. I looked around at our house, all of his belongings were gone. How did I not notice? “Wait, Jude. Hold on. Why are you doing this to me-” I tried to say as Jude walked out of the room. “You’ll be fine.” He interrupted. He put his hand on the back of my head and kissed my forehead. And like that, he walked out of my life.

↭

Six years passed in a blur of heartache and longing. I watched helplessly as Jude built a new life with Cassie, our shared house now a distant memory. I thought I would accept it, but I never did. I couldn't change the past, couldn't erase the hurt and betrayal, and I knew that, but it didn’t help. All I could do was move forward, one painful step at a time, but I couldn’t. All of our pictures hung in my apartment, despite selling our house out of desperation. I couldn’t keep a job, always coming to work drunk and miserable, so I needed the money. 

Here I found myself standing outside a church, my heart heavy with sorrow and despair. I received an invitation to Jude's wedding, a cruel reminder of how that sick bastard ruined my life. But as I stepped inside the beautiful venue, my eyes fell on two familiar faces in the crowd.

Jude stood at the altar, his hand intertwined with the woman who ended it all, a big smile playing at the corners of his lips, bigger than when we were ever together. And beside them, a little boy with Jude's dark curly hair and soulful eyes, his resemblance to his father unmistakable. 

My heart hurt and felt heavy at the sight, a bittersweet and horrible mix of sadness and resignation washing over me like a tidal wave. I watched silently as Jude exchanged vows with the other woman, my heart breaking with each promise of love and fidelity. He promised her love, care, attention, and ironically honesty and loyalty. The same things he promised me almost 10 years ago, but here I am. A miserable guest while she’s his wife.

[xxblairexxss]

I Tried

Pairing : Jude bellingham x reader

Themes : Angst

Word count : 4.4k

Hi! It’s 4AM and I just had an overwhelming feelings to write something in 30 minutes before I go to sleep. This is my first fic and am no where as talented as those amazing fic writers. Please go easy on me! This fic is heavy on self-doubt. Please skip if it could trigger you.

p/s : I don’t know how to properly work on this app and still trying to figure things out. I am also still learning about leaving warnings before any fics so please forgive me if I use the wrong warnings and such! Promise I will improve on this! 🥹

Growing up as the only child in the family, Y/N grew up and learnt almost everything on her own. Well, not everything as in raising herself but no one was there to keep her accompany as she watched her favourite tv shows, no one was there to tell her that Hogwarts wasn’t a real school, no one was there to tell her that she won’t receive any letters from Hogwarts like Harry did, no one was there to play Barbie with her. She thought it was fine and never cared about it because she eventually learnt it all by herself as she grew up.

But no one was there to teach her about love.

She read about it in novels that she borrowed from the library. She watched movies like “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” and thought to herself that love is beautiful but she never imagined herself to fall in love nor did she imagined herself capable to make someone else’s fall in love with her but then,

but then she met Jude Bellingham, a kid who went to the same high school with her.

She met him through a mutual, who thought it would be fine to play cupid and pair these two together because they thought it would be an interesting pair, a shy, introvert girl who had never been in any relationship and a friendly guy who got along with everyone, the one who had been in multiple relationships.

Of course, Y/N didn’t know how to differentiate if it was just a silly puppy crush, with love. She never knew if what she felt for Jude was just her desire to fall in love or she did genuinely fell in love with him.

“Hi, I’m Jude. Jude Bellingham.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N.”

Over the weeks, they got closer and closer. No one thought it would be a problem at all because, well, Jude can be friends with anyone.

“I really wanted to be a professional footballer.” He said, taking a bite from his burger. “I don’t think that is impossible, Jude. Look at you! You are so talented.” Y/N replied with a wide grin on her face. She had been to his friendly match before and Jude was indeed very talented. “You might even get picked to be in England national football team one day.”

“If I make it, then I want you to be there with me. As my girlfriend.”

“..what?” Y/N could have sworn this felt like an actual dream. Did he really ask her to be his girlfriend? Could this be a chance for her first ever relationship and could possibly be her one and only relationship?

She would have said yes straight away if it wasn’t for the sudden waves of anxiety. What if she made the wrong decision? What if she wasn’t ready? What if he was just playing around?

“I promise I’ll make it worth. I like you, Y/N. I really do.”

And she said yes. Because he promised,

but promises are meant to be broken.

Y/N did everything she could think of to make Jude the happiest boyfriend ever. She baked him cookies, she sent him a box of his favourite chocolates with handwritten letter to cheer him up when he lost his match, she spent days thinking about what she should give him as his birthday gift and she taught that those “relationships” she read and watched were indeed true, love was indeed the most beautiful thing a human could ever felt. Falling in love is like planting those roses and daisies in your heart and watched it grew to be a land of flowers.

But flowers will eventually wilt if you don’t keep taking care of it.

And soon she realised that Jude never reciprocate her actions. She was the only one who kept on flowering those flowers, Jude was just …..there, watching them getting limp.

‘Did I try too hard? I thought I was making him happy. Did I annoy him? Am I not enough? I swear I tried my best to be there with him when he needed me. Am I not worthy of his love? Did he realised that I was not the girl he actually wanted?’ Y/N cried and cried as a train of negative thoughts kept on going round in her head.

But again, no one was there to tell her that she was worth even more. That he wasn’t even worth it. That she was perfect enough. That he wasn’t the one. That him leaving her with no explanation didn’t meant no one was gonna fall in love with her no more.

And Y/N then figured out that she said yes because she thought she found love and that maybe, she was too excited to know how it felt like to fall in love and how it felt to be loved by someone, that she was too blind to see that Jude asked her to be his girlfriend not because he was in love with her but because he wanted to be her first in everything, to feed his ego, to feel superior amongst his friends.

[jesssssssssica]

can we get some jude angst where they are broken up but she keeps seeing things that he’s moved on and it breaks her heart so in a moment of weakness she texts jobe kinda ranting about how she misses him and wishes that she was enough for him. but it turns out she was messaging jude not jobe. fluffy ending if you can please. tysmmm 🫶🏻

this idea AHHHH i love it! also sorry for taking aaaaaaaaages to get back to! + i’m sorry if this is rubbish

a month.

that’s how long it had been since he had left.

something about how he was holding the relationship back and how she didn’t deserve him.

what lies.

after the door had closed behind him, you were a mess, having takeaways everyday, not cleaning after yourself all those nasty habits that you had left behind once jude and you had started going out.

but now jude was gone.

taking your heart with him.

until the night where you got him back, it hadn’t meant but fate changed everything.

you open your messages, sick of lounging around and wanting to do something, how dare he rip your heart out and not feel the pain, so you messaged the one person you knew that would know what you were going through. scrolling through you contacts you searched for ‘j’ clicking on the first contact.

jobe!

jobeeeeeee

i miss himmmmmm

does he miss me

i bet he doesn’t ☹️☹️☹️

i miss him so much

him and his stupid hair

and his stupid face

he’s so pretty ☹️☹️

y/n?

this isn’t jobe

it’s jude

——————————————————

shit.

stupid y/n.

now he knows how pathetic we are.

all because we couldn’t read!

leaving him on read, i turn off my phone screaming into my pillow, now i had lost all chances of getting him back.

a knock sounds at the door, what perfect timing, just as i’m about to break down into tear.

“coming!” i shout pulling myself together.

i open the door and there in all his glory is the man i had been wanting back into my arms from the moment he left.

“ i was around when you messaged.. i knew as soon as i left i had made a mistake but i didn’t want to seem like some child that can’t live without being with you to look after me every step of the way. but the truth is y/n i can’t live with out you i just-”

i shut him up with my lips.

i feel at home when my lips meet his.

i feel perfect when my lips meet his.

he is my home.

and i love him so much.

“ i love you jude” i say once we separate

“i love you too y/n” he whispers back as if our words are so precious that no one else should ever hear them.