#also this could definitely take a smutty route but we'll see later on 👀

[moviestarmartini]

Since you are open to writing about Brahim 🤭imagine Jude being a third wheel and always hanging out with you and Brahim, like the guy is never at his house 😭😭

three, that's the magic number! - brahim diaz x reader x platonic!jude bellingham

warnings: none, pure fluff. headcanon/bulleted format.

OKAY HE WOULD LOWKEY BE LIKE “i want what these bitches have” BUT LET ME NOT GET AHEAD OF MYSELF HERE 

now playing... the magic number by de la soul

you’d heard of Jude but came to meet him in a dinner Brahim had organized with him and Arda. 

you’d noticed the way Jude stared in awe at the two of you whenever you interacted, even if it was just Brahim taking short glances, his face softer than ever. 

it started off with Brahim asking if you could pick up Jude on the way to training, not wanting the younger man to take a taxi there again 

the way the three of you could start a conversation and flow felt nice, singing along to some songs that Brahim had queued.

Jude often asked what the songs said, or what a word either of you said meant. you found endearing how he was really trying with spanish

Jude then started getting dropped off at your shared place to be driven to training by you two— getting all pouty when Brahim was the one driving, not you.  

“Is this what abandonment feels like?” He would joke, but still wished you the best on your way out to work. 

then it was the fact Brahim took it upon himself to teach the englishman the do’s-and-don’ts of Madrid. 

you took Jude everywhere, all your favorite spots, doing your best to avoid large crowds to not draw attention to yourselves. 

“You’re in luck, she’s the best tour guide ever.” Brahim bragged about you to Jude, as he did to anyone who would listen.  

he was just so so proud of every you know and done, he can’t help himself. 

you knew a lot about the historic places you saw even when just passing by car, telling Jude every detail and fun fact you had in store in that brain of yours.

he listened attentively, also noticing the way Brahim would look at you with the tiniest smile behind his lips.  

“See? I’ve got myself the smartest cookie. Eres la más inteligente de todo España, mi habibati.” Brahim would coo after you were done explaining, reaching to cup your face and stroke your cheekbone with his thumb as you nodded slowly, cheeks flushed. 

soon, however, candid pictures of you hanging out were released to the public. 

the reactions varied from people adoring the pair you and Brahim made and how tall Jude was compared to the two of you but always followed behind as if he was your child. 

by that point he’d already taken your flat as his favorite hang out spot, more often than not you found Jude playing FIFA or board games with Brahim after coming home from work.

“Get a room.” Jude would complain at your cuddling and kissing, Brahim brushing the spiky facial hair against the length of your neck only to hear the giggles that made his chest swell 

“Jude, you’re the one who’s in our room.” you deadpanned with a yawn, the two men bursting down in laughter. 

but at the end of the day, he felt like another member of your family— just like abi Arda did, but that’s a story for another day. 

and you were so glad Brahim could reintegrate back into the team flawlessly. 

at one of the games you sat in the VIP balcony at the bernabeú with a good chunk of the players— all out on injuries, including Jude, who went straight to you as he noticed you walk in. 

you two commented on the game as if that was your actual job, feeling every second and emotion. 

you also noticed how Jude looked at you every time you celebrated Brahim doing things right— it could only be described as admiration.

 Jude had to leave when the game was itching its end, having to stand with the other injured players, leaving you with Denise.  

you introduced yourself quickly, and you noticed how she perked up. 

“Lovely to meet you, but can you give me my son back? Or do I need to pull out some adoption papers for you two?” she laughed, soon telling you how much he talked about both you and Brahim, and the relationship you shared. 

you couldn't help but laugh, "Really? I think I have a pen in my purse, hold on–" you joked, but feeling proud... why? because everyone could clearly see how much you loved Brahim.

and they could also see, clear as day, how much he loved you too.