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saleeba · 11 months

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fool ; jude bellingham

summary ♡ betting on the phenomenon of unrequited feelings, you and jude have never dared to make the first move with the other until a reunion forces new questions to be answered.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+, smut, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, kissing, both jude & reader are pining idiots, fingering, p in v sex, marking, missionary, unprotected sex (jude pulls out but still pls practise safe sex!!)

a/n ♡ she's baaaack :D but first☝🏽alexa play fool by nct 127 !!!! the lyric "you’re a goddess but i’m a fool, what should i do?" was written for this fic in particular i just know it was :] anyway hehe this fic is based off this request so tysmm to anon for sending such an exciting prompt !! i hope yous enjoy 🫶🏽💗 WAIT P.S this isn’t proofread bc i lowkey am not rocking with it so i didn’t wanna put myself thru having to read it again & again … im sorry for any mistakes :’)

you had just gotten off work to a stream of relentless texts from your best friends’ groupchat — phone pinging off the rails whilst you were on shift, muffled buzzes from your bag making you wonder what on earth was worth blowing up in that whatsapp group on a random friday afternoon.

on the train back home, you tap open the green app, anticipating yourself easily spending the entire journey catching up on the three hundred-plus texts from your closest mates. you decide to start right from the beginning of the influx, thumb scrolling nonstop and eyes blurring from the rapid movement until they focus back on the screen where you stop, finally having reached the destination of the first text that set it all off.

it was from none other than jude bellingham, and you were nearly embarrassed by the way your face instantly lit up upon reading his message. the groupchat’s golden boy had popped up after weeks of minimal contact, asking if he could take everyone for a night out tomorrow to make up for it, stating that he finally has some small gaps of free time between hectic pre-season schedules to allow him to do so.

it honestly warmed your heart that the first thing he wants away from football is to see you all. you’d been a band of good friends since the first year of secondary school, contact not necessarily strained as you all had a lot of love for each other but rather unspokenly reduced after leaving school two years ago and falling into busy university or career ventures.

instead of scrolling through to read and react to the plethora of follow-up texts after his, you ignore them and jump straight to typing your reply to his invitation, casting aside that nagging voice asking you: doesn’t that seem too desperate?

no, right? i’m just accepting his invitation, getting straight to the point, the convo ended half an hour ago anyway. you’re arguing with yourself now, feeling the need to give unnecessary excuses to nonexistent accusations. if you were to be honest with yourself, you were always self-conscious of the way you behaved around jude, even now debating on whether to add your signature heart emoji or if it’d come across as you trying too hard given your feelings for him; albeit them being feelings that no one knows about, not even him. you made sure for it to be that way.

with a mental note to get over yourself, you send an affirmative ‘i’m up for it!’, signature heart included, and quickly shut off your phone. heart beating so rapidly, you scolded yourself for getting so worked up over a mere reply and for definitely not getting over yourself. god knows how you’re going to handle seeing him in person.

a sudden double buzz from your device does nothing to calm you down, instead dampening your hands with sweat when you grab it and see a pair of messages from him.

jude 🌟: heyy i’m so glad you can make it tomorrow :)

jude 🌟: can’t wait to see you!! ❤❤

he had messaged you separately for some reason and he had included two hearts… the overthinking starts for you again, without even beginning to think about what to reply this time, and you question why he couldn’t have just replied to you in the groupchat or why he couldn’t have just left the end of the messages with a ‘x’ like he usually does or why he would even say what he said in the last message. mind frantic and unable to clear itself, you thank yourself for having your read receipts turned off so you can have your mini meltdown without worrying about jude knowing you’d seen his messages multiple minutes ago. god, you were down so bad.

you force yourself to open the messages app and send the most casual reply you can type.

you: can’t wait to see you too! ❤

you try to keep it short, sweet and nonchalant even if your fingers are itching to type more – more about how much you had missed him, more about what he was planning to wear tomorrow night so that maybe you could match your own outfit with him, more about your true, unfiltered feelings for him. it’s pathetic really; you hadn’t seen him in two years and the first thing you wanted to do was throw yourself at him, spilling all the secrets you’d been holding close for so many years. you leave it at that, put your phone on do not disturb mode and head on home, waiting for the long hours of friday evening to pass and saturday night to arrive.

***

and so saturday night rolls around and you just about finish touching up your makeup and smoothing out your dark blue dress before the doorbell rings, and you’re whisked away to the club by a couple of your girlfriends.

as soon as you step your high heels into the building, you’re met with the sight of flowing booze and the noise of noughties r&b beats bouncing around the brightly lit walls. dragged by the hands of your friends, you find yourself standing next to a booth at the back of the club, the rest of the group now welcoming you latecomers with a loud cheer.

“finally, girls. you took your time!” one of your male friends remarks, ushering you all to sit down.

“oh god, what have we missed?” you beam, trying to scan the group amongst the strobing lights to catch a glimpse of the person you were really there for.

“nah, you’re just in time because… first round’s on mister madrid!”

the callout breaks your friend group into a raucous holler as your gaze fixes onto the six foot-one footballer who stands up with an amused grin and a sigh of feigned defeat. your heart quickens and your smile turns into a state of near disbelief over how good jude looks right now – graphic white t-shirt hugging his biceps in all the right places and hanging over a pair of smart-casual black trousers.

“yeah, yeah, anything for my groupies,” he winks at no one in particular but your brain almost convinces you that he was looking at you while doing it. you send a shy smile his way just in case but what he says next has your mouth running dry. “help us out, will ya, y/n?”

you hesitate for a second too long for your liking, stumbling over your words while your friends peer at you. “uh… uh-huh, yeah, of course.” you answer as quick as you can, standing up on your feet slowly as to not trip over your now-shaking legs and send yourself flying into jude, and to avoid embarrassing yourself more than you think you already have.

he responds with a grateful smile and you follow him to the bar where he places an order for a round of drinks and some shots to be delivered to the group by the two of you. there’s an odd unfamiliarity to the silence between you both and you realise that you aren’t normally this quiet around jude, and neither is he around you; you would always joke that he’d be eligible to talk for england if he wasn’t already playing football for them. he’d retort with a comment about how his ears could almost fall off with the amount of chatting you do, and you’d dryly reply with a ‘well, they’re too big for your head anyway. look at the size of them!’ the pair of you were always as thick as thieves in the eyes of everyone else. which is why you didn’t expect it to be like this, especially after two years of not seeing each other – there was so much you wanted to catch up on from his world and so much you wanted to share from yours. you decidedly gain some courage and take the initiative to spark some conversation, get something going at least.

“soo, how have you been, then?” you’re both facing the bar, your head barely tilting in jude’s direction to indicate that yes, it is him that you’re talking to and not some random like he assumes you are with the way you’re positioned away from him, eyes just about turning to steal a glance of his figure but not to hold eye contact. “how’s la vida española?”

jude finds amusement in your sudden flaunt of the spanish language, a smile breaking out on his face, unseen to you since he’s still facing the same direction that you are, preoccupying his eyes with the myriad of bottles on the shelves while his mind searches for an apt reply.

“yeah, it’s been great, i think i wanna stay there forever,” jude laughs, his fingers tapping on the black surface of the bar. you can’t help the selfish feeling of your heart dropping at his confession. “i miss you, though, y’know… a lot.”

this one confession forces your whole body to turn itself towards him, eyes now chasing after his to seek some form of sincerity, to see if he was just messing about or if he really meant what he just said. he shifts his head to face you now, a bashful look painted onto his features. the expectant silence says it all really; of course i mean it.

you gulp and decide to break the quietness with a sarcastic, jesting “ugh…”, jude’s face dropping at what he thinks is genuine disgust from you. you realise your attempt to denounce the awkwardness has backfired.

“oh my god, you dickhead, i’m joking,” how is it that mere moments ago you were shaking at the sheer real-life presence of him but now you’d transformed into having this confident playfulness? and all of it without a drop of alcohol in your system as well – you’re quietly proud of yourself. “i missed you too, jude… a lot.” you coyly repeat his words.

upon your turn of the confession, the bartender sets down your drink orders and the two of you wordlessly carry the trays over to where your friends are situated, the silence way more comfortable now that you’re both basking in assurance, unbeknown to the other that your hearts were racing at a hundred miles per hour.

***

not even two hours and an innumerable amount of shots later, you’re all a drunken mess; definitely not a surprise to a single one of you. what is a surprise is the way you’re strewn across jude, right leg wrapped around his left, head on his chest, swirling and sipping from what’s clearly an empty glass to any sober, sane person. you grumble and mutter a complaint about the lack of liquor in the booth, taking it upon yourself to head to the bar and order another round for everyone.

“i’ll come with you,” jude announces over the pounding of the music, standing up so quickly that his next five steps are staggered and he has to cling onto your arm to steady himself. “i’m fine, i’m okay.” he assures nobody that asked.

the two of you stumble your way into the path of the bar, determined to drink until the sun comes up and forget every strand of stress until the hangovers come knocking. jude’s soft grip on your arm has you being led in the opposite direction all of a sudden, though.

“uhm, where are we going?” you question, head still turned to where the bar is located, about to ask him if he was so hammered he couldn’t walk in a simple straight line to get to where you’d planned to go. “jude?”

he’s silent, save for humming his way to his desired destination, and you question if he even knows where he’s leading you. before you make the choice of going along with him or leaving his clearly confused self to go cop your next cocktail, you find yourself in the disabled toilets, pushed up against the sink with the door not even shut properly, gasping at how rough jude is handling your body compared to his soft touches from before, and how close his face is to yours, warm breath fanning the skin of your lips. you weren’t strictly against it all but how the hell have you ended up like this? The alcohol and the questions come at you fast, dizzying your brain but you can’t help but feel so keenly anticipative.

“i’m sorry, i just…” he pulls away from you, eyes fluttering closed so he can re-evaluate his actions, exhaling through his nose as if he was letting go of all doubts before continuing. “am i okay to do this?” he places his hands on your waist, pushing himself back into your space, his full lips more or less about to take yours. you have to refrain from letting the effects of alcohol take over your tongue and uttering back with a breathy ‘you can do whatever you want to me’.

instead, you answer with an earnest, eager nod, inviting his lips to finally do that one thing you had been dreaming of for so long, to kiss yours so silly that they’re left with the imprint of him. and jude does just that.

his mouth takes in yours so determinedly, shyness and hesitation now long-dissolved feelings for you both as your hands find home around the back of his neck, pushing his head further onto you, feeling the need to taste him more and more until you’re both consumed by each other.

it’s a messy makeout, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but it’s oh so hot, the way he gasps into your mouth from breathlessness and pleasure, running and gripping his large hands over the material adorning your waist and hips as the need to rip it off you nearly overtakes him. to you, he’s so utterly intoxicating that a gallon of alcohol would pale in comparison to how dizzy his skin on yours makes you feel.

you release a moan at the meagre thought of jude all over your body, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue over yours, filthy noises of wetness and carnality from the both of you reaching high pitch as jude somehow simultaneously pushes you against the sink and pulls you against his chest, his manhandling of you getting you even more hot and bothered before you’re both interrupted by the hub of people passing by and huddling right outside the bathroom, their self-occupied shouts and cheers dragging you out of the bubble that the two of you had wrapped yourselves in, almost sobering you up on the spot.

you push jude out of your way, gentle but abrupt, and give him a look of apologetic regret. “i-i’m sorry,” you say, jitterily walking past him and exiting the room without a second glance or word, heading straight to the booth where your friends are hollering and hurraying, occupied with shot-drinking contests.

your girlfriends offer to go home with you when you lie and tell them you’re not feeling very well, but you decline them, instead telling them to have fun on your behalf and letting them know that you’ll try to text them once you get home safely. you can tell they’re confused by your shaken state and the absence of jude but you grab your bag and make your exit before the interrogation can even begin to brew.

you manage to grab a taxi back home, surprised by how competent you are despite the alcohol in your bloodstream and confusion in your brain. on the way there, you can’t stop the bouncing of your knee nor the racing of your psyche, asking yourself how and why whatever went down with jude went down like that. you curse at yourself for being so impulsive in starting and finishing the whole ordeal with him in the way that you did – you don’t know if it’s the empty, depressive drunk thoughts or just clarity from the whole jude thing that makes you feel like there’s no coming back from this at all. you feel like crawling into your bed and never coming out from it ever again.

the taxi driver has to call for your attention multiple times until you reach earth again and pay him the journey’s fee. you go skulking all the way up to your front door, only letting out a breath that you feel like you’ve been holding since the beginning of the night once the door shuts behind you.

the rest of the night is quiet and orderly for you, telling yourself to not invite any more chaos into your brain and to simply drink some water and to go to sleep. waking up tomorrow morning is going to be painful in more ways than one.

***

you spend the rest of the weekend nursing a ferocious hangover and a frazzled heart, only contacting your friends to tell them that you got home fine and to joke that you probably need a century or two for this hangover to be gone. you thank the high heavens that they don't bring up the topic of you and jude

you try not to think too much about jude, you really do, but sunday night has a couple of taps landing you on the instagram app and you learn that he’s already back in spain, pictures of him in training sliding across your phone screen on his story along with selfies with his teammates. usually, you tap that small red heart at the bottom and hope that he sees it amongst his millions and millions of notifications, a tiny ritual of yours that now has you feeling so pathetic that you don’t dare to do it anymore.

running a hand over your weary face, you set your phone down and opt to nap the night away, finding comfort in the non-intrusion from your friends and the no contact from jude, hoping to keep yourself busy and distracted with whatever the work week brings.

a ring from the doorbell rips through your flat just as you’re organising your pillows, forcing you to stop what you’re doing and ponder who could be at the door on a sunday while the clock ticks some minutes past one o’clock. you don’t recollect ordering any food nor are you expecting a delivery, especially not this late.

trudging your way to the front door, you open it to find jude bellingham standing there and you feel an instant pang of regret, wishing you had peeked through the window to see who it could be, wishing you had pretended to not be in, wishing the ground would open up right now and swallow you whole – anything to escape the confrontation that you’re now having to face. your face heats up with embarrassment and nerves but you manage to rupture the silence before your mouth can turn dry.

“j-jude, hi,” you try and keep your greeting as polite and cordial as you can, even when all you really want to do is to chase him off your doorstep. “what are you doing here?”

your query has jude visibly gulping, hands fiddling with each other as he attempts to hold eye contact with you, his vision a bit blurry from exhaustion. “y/n… sorry, can i come in?”

you oblige, holding the door open wide before you guide him to the living room and invite him to sit down on the plushness of your sofa, settling yourself on the opposite end of it. you silently prompt him to say what he came here to say with a nod of your head.

“uhm, i’m sorry for turning up unannounced, and so late…” ever the courteous. “i had to sneak away from the lads and catch the last flight to here so it was all a bit down to the wire.” he lets out a small, uneasy laugh.

you cut off his rambling with a curt “what do you want, jude?” you don’t mean for it to sound so rude but you still hold the attitude of wanting to get this over and done with, already feeling annoyance at yourself for even letting him into your home.

“right, yeah, i actually wanted to talk about what happened on saturday,” he goes back to fiddling with this thumbs, eyebrows furrowed but he avoids looking at you this time. not that you can blame him because your own vision shifts to anywhere but his direction. “i’m so sorry for making you uncomfortable a-and please tell me if this is inappropriate, but i haven’t stopped thinking about last night, i haven't stopped thinking about you, i-i’m sorry, i know this is all so silly and you probably don’t even feel the same bu-”

you stop him right there, this time with good reason as you can’t bear holding back your real emotions, not when he’s practically given you the green light to spill the contents of your heart.

“no, jude, i didn’t feel uncomfortable at all,” you assure him, gaze now on the footballer in front of you and you almost can’t believe the words leaving your mouth right now. “i wanted it to happen, i’m glad it happened, you know, i think i’ve had dreams about it happening,” you try and offset any tension with a timid chuckle before turning quite pensive. “i really like you, jude, i have for a long time… god, sorry, this is so embarrassing.” you return to making light of the situation you’ve put yourself in, the timidness sinking back in as quick as the relief lifts you up.

jude moves closer to your now-cowering body, knees touching as your heartbeat surges with worry and self-consciousness all wrapped up into a tight, miserable ball. he puts his sweat-dampened hands into yours and squeezes in silent assurance before raising them up to his lips and laying a chaste kiss on the heated skin.

he can’t help but break out into a sweet smile, eyes threatening to crinkle at the edges. your face is still sketched with tension and now confusion has joined the mix.

“i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to hear that from you, how much i needed to hear it,” your eyes meet his, widening in surprise a little. “i’m a fool for not telling you sooner… i like you, y/n, i really like you.” he repeats your own words back at you, leaning in with a smattering of amusement dancing in his vision.

“can i kiss you?” the question leaves your lips faster than you can even process it in your brain.

jude wastes no time in replying with a firm pressing of his mouth on yours, deepening it within seconds, the need to cement his feelings for you being told through the way he cradles your head in his hand, leaning you back onto the arm of the sofa to further intensify the kiss. your lips move along with his, the soft weight of his body pressed against yours making you whine into his mouth in ecstasy.

he lifts off of you with a puckering of his swollen lips, the both of you taking the chance to draw in some air and attempt to regulate your breathing pattern.

“please take me to the bedroom,” you beg, breathless from the sheer sight of his dark eyes and pretty pout. there’s no fight nor denial from jude as he picks you up and prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, quickening his pace once you point in the direction of your room.

he lays you down on the bed so gently, lips latching onto yours once again before they travel down your jaw and over the warm skin of your neck. the light touch of his fluttering eyelashes married with the pressure of his soft lips has your head spinning, hands tentatively laid on top of your sheets since you don’t trust yourself to not grab his head and bring it back to your lips. his fingers tinker with the waistband of your pyjama trousers, stretching it off your skin before he asks permission to peel them down your legs.

once they’re cast away in some corner of your bedroom, jude divides your legs by the underside of your knees, tucking himself into the now available space between them, turning onto his side and resting on his left forearm. he leaves a small kiss over your covered cunt and you try your best to not just clamp his head in between your thighs and smother him with your growing wetness here and now.

“need to get you ready, baby,” the sudden mention of the petname has you throbbing, squirming even more when he traces a line from your clit down to where there’s a small damp spot forming on the dark material of your underwear.

“jude, please,” you whine out, lifting your hips in a desperate bid to get the boy to strip your lower half completely.

he shushes you in his own charming way, making sure to comply with your demand by getting up onto his knees and discarding your soaked panties in a matter of seconds, the cold air generated by his large hands whipping them off you hits your exposed pussy, making you hiss through gritted teeth.

jude returns to the gap between your spread legs, sitting back but still on his knees, his higher position causing you to shift onto resting your body weight on the palms of your hands in order to peer at his actions – which start with him re-tracing that same teasing line from your aching clit to your hole with his thumb, the feeling now so intense on your unclothed skin. he hums in what sounds to be satisfaction when you throw your head back in pleasure, taking it in his favour to slip his index finger into the tightness of your pussy.

you release a guttural groan at the feeling of finally having some part of him inside you; you of course don’t want this to be the only part but you’re still so very grateful, so fucking grateful he’s now rubbing at your clit in delicious rounds, thumb tracing circle after circle while his fingers form a pair, pistoning in and out of you so easily due to the way your cunt douses itself with every move of jude’s.

“fuck, baby,” jude moans at the sight of his soaked digits every time they barely pull out of that pretty pussy, his thumb torturing your sensitive bud increasingly so, the cries and whimpers spilling from your lips an incentive for him. “feel so good and tight around my fingers, can’t imagine how you’ll feel around my dick.”

his words have you absolutely reeling, writhing against his hand to try and chase that moment of release.

“please, jude, i’m so close,” you’re warning and demanding at the same time, almost begging him to not stop or even think about moving his fingers out of you. “god, please, i need it,”

jude suddenly retracts both of his hands, leaving you bare and empty. “no way, baby, need to have you cumming on my cock or not cumming at all,” he comments with a shake of his head, denying you the opportunity of leaking your cum over his hand. upon seeing your bewildered face, he makes up for it by putting on a show of licking your juices clean off his fingers, the digits popped inside his mouth and dragged right back out with a low moan, him praising the way you taste.

“move up the bed for me, angel,” he orders, watching you while he stands up and unclothes himself as quick as he can. you scoot backwards, legs still spread open like they’ve been locked in that position, before pulling your oversized t-shirt off of you, chest void of a restricting bra . “good girl,” he praises, crawling up to hover his body over your laying one, cock in hand as your legs come to wrap around him. “are you still okay with this? we can stop at any point, okay?”

the sincerity of his voice has you melting. some would remark that the bar is in hell for you but the truth is that you hadn’t been with anyone like this for more months than you could count on your hands. you've been touch-starved and lacking words of affirmation for so long, and you needed something to be only about you for once.

“i’m more than okay with this,” you smile up at him, nodding to make your approval fully known. “and yes, i know i can stop you if i need to.”

jude reciprocates the same smile before leaning in and smothering your lips with his, pushing his cock into your tight wetness, so tight that your pussy almost pushes him back out, not used to being penetrated by something so thick.

“oh my god!” the feeling of tightness/fullness has you both gasping out the same thing at the same time, erupting into quiet giggles when the two of you realise your matching reactions.

jude’s mouth finds its way back home in the embrace of your lips and you swear this is heaven, the way his cock slides in and out of your sopping cunt, set at such a perfect pace, the slight friction causing you to grow even wetter – the filth of it all contrasts so well with the sweetness of his muffled moans and tender kisses on your neck, moving down onto your collarbones and tits.

a particularly harsh thrust of his cock has your back arching, chest pushed up to his heated face, and he takes this golden opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipple, spending a good while sucking and tugging on the skin around it. you’re amazed at how his cock doesn’t relent inside you, the speed still so quick and consistent even when he’s so occupied in painting splotches on your tits with his mouth.

“there,” he pants out, pulling his head back and marvelling at his own creation. “now, there’s no doubt that you’re really mine.” the smile he gives you is a killer.

you whine at his declaration of you belonging to him, scratching at his shoulders and calling out his name to indicate that it’s all too much for you, that you’re so, so close to cumming on his cock and really giving him what he wants rather than pleasing yourself. you figure that’s you gone now; you’re more willing to put the boy above your own needs because you’re down that fucking bad for him.

“fuck, jude, i’m gonna cum!” you sob, your moans becoming more frequent and higher pitched, legs starting to shake from the intoxicating mix of exhaustion and delight. you’re frantically chanting “please, please, please” into his mouth which parts to swallow your whimpering, wet lips kissing your trembling ones.

“go on, baby, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he groans out, eyes squeezing shut when the feeling of your pussy clamping down tightly on his thickness proves too much to handle, face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. he knows you don’t need his permission, he would’ve let you orgasm as many times as you wanted to, would’ve let you use him like your own personal sex toy, but the words were only there to keep you going when his hips felt like faltering – he needed you cumming on his cock like he promised before, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up himself.

a final scream rips from your throat as you cum hard around jude, pussy clenching and pulsating around his cock so sporadically you thought you were having two orgasms at once. jude can’t handle it anymore, pulling out with a myriad of moans as he pumps his shaft with a hand, decorating the expanse of your lower abdomen with warm, white liquid. you’re still squirming, slowly trying to wheeze out the remaining whimpers from your lungs which you’re finding hard to do with the way jude pants and moans above you, the boy so spent he can’t help but breathe like he hasn’t had access to air for the past hour.

he flops down by your side, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish, chest rising and falling as he attempts to recuperate from the mindblowing sex you two just had. the image is so unserious that you can’t stifle your giggles but you decide to take another step of courage to lay on your side resting your head on his shoulder, fingers stroking his abs and playing with the curly hairs of his happy trail.

the room is quiet now with the scent of sex wafting through your nostrils on occasion but it’s the most comfortable silence you’ve experienced with jude, the feeling of his hot skin on yours so soothing to you.

after a period of panting, jude clears his throat and your ears prick up at the presence of sound. he turns his head towards you and you lift yourself up and off him out of instinct – you want full attention on him.

“i don’t want this to be a one-time kinda thing, y’know,” he proclaims, biting his lip from saying too much in one go.

“what, is this your way of saying you want round two already?” you joke, nose crinkling at the way he rolls his eyes playfully.

“shut up,” he delivers a poke to your side. “i mean, well, i don’t want either one of us to see this as a spur-of-the-moment thing, i just…” you look at him expectantly, silently telling him to continue. “i want you to be my girlfriend, y/n.”

you’re nearly knocked back by his words, wondering if they’re real or if you’re simply just hearing things. you thought dialogue like that, coming from him, was only reserved for your imagination, kept secret and only spoken to you in late-night mental scenarios that would comfort you on your way to slumberland.

you let out a laugh that’s an odd mix of relief and disbelief, quickly replying “yes, yes, of course” to his awaiting face, which releases a look of relief itself before jude captures your lips with such passion you’re both knocked back onto the plush pillows, giggling into each other’s mouths until your hands find themselves running down the defined muscles of his abdomen and over his hardening cock.

#girlies i’ve never had alcohol in my life so i hope the way i wrote reader & jude being drunk was ok !!! 🫶🏽#then again i’ve never had sex in my life and i write extensively about it so u know . 😭😭😭#guys imagine if before every smut fic i wrote a disclaimer like ‘guys i-i’ve never had sex before but i hope i did okay with this 🥺🥺' LMAO #ALSO omg im sorry abt the inconsistencies in tone + tempo i legit wrote this over a 5 month period + came back to it at times when i didnt #feel like writing + i was just tryna get to the good bit iykwim ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)#˗ˏˋ 📝 ˎˊ˗#˗ˏˋ 💬 ˎˊ˗#jude bellingham #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #football imagine #footballer smut #footballer imagine

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clowningaroundmars · 3 months

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aromantic mike chilton for @aggressivelyarospec week!!!! :D

accompanying story under the cut!

It didn't work out with Julie.

They had broken up and decided it would be best to stay friends. After all, with Mike... nothing really changed at all. Like... nothing.

And that was kinda the problem.

Julie didn't think herself to be too judgmental of a person, not after everything everyone's been through. She and the Burners worked hard, played hard, and succeeded together (oftentimes against all odds).

They slept in cuddle piles after dinner some nights whenever Julie could slip away for more than a day without arousing her dad's suspicions. They passed bongs around for a lung-hacking hit or two, went skinny-dipping in the lake at night, patched up each other's bloody wounds countless times.

And then somewhere down the line, Julie fell in love with Mike.

She had no idea when exactly, since she doesn't really do feelings like that, can't afford to with a life like hers. But it happened... somehow.

Julie couldn't quite place exactly what it was that initially drew her to him, especially at first. Sure, the guy was friendly, decisive, assertive without being too overbearing, and unbearably charming. But.

It was the charm that caught poor Julie totally off-guard, really. She'd often hear her father ranting and raving about his golden-prodigal-son-turned-traitor, and his ID photo in his file wasn't really much to look at, either. Julie would never admit it out loud, but she had snuck down to Motorcity for the first time ever with low expectations.

Later, she came back up to her pod in Deluxe with stars in her eyes.

But she wasn't in love with him then, no. She knew this because she was pretty sure her constant Mike Thoughts did not manifest until after the kids all went to Antonio's together for the first time.

It was summertime, around nine months after the group was (un)officially formed. The heat had Mike shirking his jacket and leaving it in Mutt, and his old t-shirt was getting a tad bit tight after all the exercise he was getting around the hideout, especially after Texas moved his workout gear in and Mike took him up on his offer for semi-regular sparring sessions.

And boy, did that Mike fella fill out. Mhmm.

Even Julie-- a girl who was mostly blind to typical male affections directed at her in school-- had to admit to herself that when Mike put on a little more weight in the right places, when his biceps bulged a bit as he flexed an arm and his shoulders got a bit wider... it took a lot more effort to wrench her studious gaze away.

Geez Louise.

Before long, she was doodling their initials and combining both of their names in her little sketchpad. Gag. Gross.

But Mike never seemed to pay attention to her the same way in return. She didn't catch him looking away from her at inopportune times, and he'd never lay a single hand on her aside from a typical friendly pat on the shoulder, or a comfortable lean on an arm while the Burners all lounged around during movie nights. Hell, he seemed more affectionate with his best friend Chuck than he was with her most times.

So she kept her thoughts to herself. Easy peasy. She kept secrets from her dad, from her friends, and now from Mike. Like everything else, she created a neat, separate file in her head and tucked that little secret away. She managed to conceal it for long enough.

Until it became too big to ignore.

And then it happened.

And it really just... happened. Julie hardly registered herself even doing it.

It happened like this: Mike had rescued Julie from certain death at the lake after she crashed an out-of-control 9 Lives out through the barricades and into the water, and they were panting and coughing up water on the sand after Mike succeeded in dragging her out. Dutch and Texas were busy racing around and distracting the Kanebots, luring them all away from the pair.

Julie didn't say anything. Neither of them did. Julie just... surged forward when she blinked the water out of her eyes and saw him, his angelic face hovering mere inches away from hers. She remembered the dewey drops on his long lashes and the warmth of his lips more than anything else.

And then she's pretty sure she blacked out afterwards because the next thing she remembers, she's waking up on the couch wrapped in blankets and towels, wearing Chuck's hoodie.

She doesn't ask anyone why Chuck opted to be the guy to lend his clothes to her.

(It wasn't Chuck who lent it to her though.)

After Jacob makes sure she has a steaming mug of soup in her hands and is generally fussed over enough, he bids her a goodnight and leaves a big holoscreen playing old-timey anime shows for her.

Shortly afterwards, Mike slips into the room on feet far too quiet for a rowdy teenage boy like him. Julie almost misses his entry and startles when she notices him casually leaning on a wall over to her right, almost blending in against the garish grafitti and street signs.

They sat down and spoke quietly, privately.

Julie appreciated that Mike had enough tact and forethought not to confront her in front of all of the guys. Thank god. Julie wouldn't even know how to handle the endless teasing that would inevitably assault her from all angles if they ever even suspected that she had a crush on Mike.

And how embarrassing, really! The only girl on the team falling for the charming and roguish leader of a group of rebels. Double gag.

It was by some miracle that no one ever suspected Julie's true feelings, and that the actual love interest found out before anyone else did. Lucky her!

And incredibly, Mike shared her feelings too! Who would've thought it! Definitely not Julie, that's for sure.

Mike hadn't even seemed to glance her way at all in all the time they had known each other. He always maintained the same level of friendliness with her as he did with the other guys. But he confessed then that he knew Julie was special, and that their bond that grew in the time they had known each other was special, too.

Wow. Look at them, both hiding their feelings so well! It's like they were meant to be.

So they agreed to go steady.

Eventually, they told the rest of the Burners. Well, it really was just that it was kinda hard for them to ignore when Julie would sneak her index finger over to Mike's hand and hook it onto his pinkie as they walked back to their cars after a quick errand run for the Skylarks or an easy mission.

So they decided to make the announcement at Antonio's, which Julie thought was perfectly poetic. It was where she first fell in love with Mike, and now here they were a year and a half later, making it official.

They didn't expect the other guys' reactions, though. The Burners received the news... lukewarmly.

"You guys were in love?" Texas spewed bits of pizza all over the table as he chewed with his mouth open. Ugh. Typical Texas.

"Oh! Wow... uhm. Congrats, guys." Chuck seemed to hide behind his hair even more as his shoulders hiked up in a nonchalant shrug.

Dutch rubbed his chin. "...Yeah. Uh, yeah...? Cool. Congrats, you two."

And then silence fell over the table.

"Is... is there a problem with this, or?" Julie dared to press.

Everyone silently exchanged glances.

Mike-- bless his heart-- misread the situation and clasped his hands together on the table.

"Guys, look," he started, "this isn't gonna change anything about the team. We're still gonna be friends, I’m not prioritizing Julie over anyone else on missions. It's just... we're gonna... we're gonna be the Burners, except I’m dating Jules now! That's all!"

Mike smiled warmly at all his friends. Chuck chewed on his lip.

Dutch bobbed his head thoughtfully. Then, after a while, he said "nah, yeah. We figured. I mean, you're a pretty great guy so it's not like we thought you were gonna up and abandon us or anything. It's just that... uh. So when did this uhhh, yanno, this whole thing start?"

Julie blinked.

Mike cocked his head. "Start?" He asked.

"Y'know, like when did y'all start liking each other? Because uh, no offense, but this is kinda comin' out of the blue for us. Literally nobody thought this was gonna be a thing. Tell us some stories!"

Mike blew out a breath and leaned back in the booth. Julie smiled.

"Weeeellll," Julie squinted with excitement and then let the cat out of the bag.

She told them all about it, how in this very same booth she watched as Mike's t-shirt stretched over his muscles all those months ago and how his smile seemed to shine brighter than the diner's neon signs. Then about how she leaned against Mike's broad chest after agonizing for hours over not being able to free him from her father's maximum-security prison that one time. About all the dreams she'd have of them together, the intimate late-night talks they'd have while having a couple of drinks on the rooftop of some abandoned building. How she loved his bright eyes and strong hands...

When she finished, she had a dreamy kind of look all over her face. Mike had a brow quirked, but he smiled back at her all the same.

Everyone exchanged glances again.

"So Mike. Was it like that for you?" Chuck asked eventually. It had a strange sort of lilt to it, like he was in on an inside joke that Julie wasn't.

She bristled a bit.

"Oh! Uh." Mike glanced around quickly. "Not... really? But Julie's super pretty, so when she confessed to me, I was pretty stoked."

Mike grinned like a goofball. Julie grinned like a goofball. The rest of the Burners looked skeptical.

"Hm. Cool! Well, great." Chuck turned back to his loaded pizza slice.

And just like that, things mostly went back to normal.

And, uh... Mike was right, this... really wasn't changing anything between them and the Burners. Like at all.

A small part of Julie was kind of hurt by it, but she tried to wave the feeling away. It was nonsense, and she should be happy. Mike loved her! He just wasn't a romantic type, that's all. He loved his friends, loved being a Burner... it was fine.

Right?

It was normal for her to have to remind Mike every now and then to go out on a date with her. He's a busy guy, and this was his first relationship. Julie just had to be patient.

Patient... patient. Yeah. She could be patient.

It was when Chuck joined them for their sixth "movie date" in a row that the patience was starting to run a bit thin, though.

Chuck and Mike settled side-by-side on the communal couch, swapping snacks as easily as breathing and nursing a popcorn bowl between them. Mike hooked an arm over Julie's shoulder though, so Julie said nothing.

It was a couple of months later when Mike makes a quiet confession to her as they laid together in his pristine bed one night.

"I don't really like kissing all that much," he mumbles, face half-buried into his pillows. "But I like holding you. Is that okay?"

Julie's heart sinks into the covers. But she nods anyways. "Yeah. That's okay."

"Really? Do ya mean it? It's not weird or anything, right? We can still be together but not kiss. Maybe I can give you forehead kisses instead?"

Julie sighed softly. "Mmnyeah, that's fine."

"It's not you, it's me, Jules. I just--"

"Mike. Trust me, I get it. It's okay, seriously."

Mike gave her a grateful smile back.

Damnit. Well.

Anyways, life continued on. Julie resigned herself to accepting the fact that her boyfriend was just simply a guy's guy.

Julie liked cars but Mike was all over Mutt. Loved the damn thing more than he loved her, honestly. She loved being a Burner, but it seemed like it was Mike's purpose, like he was more devoted to the city under the dome than he was to his girlfriend. And above all, Mike loved the Burners. All of them. He spent a bit more time with Chuck than he did with anyone else in the team, but he was always there for everyone just as passionately.

Which was. Fine.

Freeing Motorcity from her father's reign of terror was indeed way more important than holding hands with a cute boy!

Duh, of course, stupid Julie.

Whatever.

When they inevitably broke up, it blindsided Mike. He thought they were the best of buds! The bestest of buds-- aside from him and Chuck, of course! But while he loved Chuck fiercely, his love for Julie was... different. Fierce but different. He could never describe it in words but he knew what he was feeling was real.

He loved Julie! So when she suddenly broke up with him, it was like getting hit with a sack of flour out of nowhere.

They were leaned up against Mutt's hood on a cliff overlooking Lake Erie when Julie finally broke the news. They were casually smoking a cigarette, passing it back and forth. Mike's idea of a "date." Anyways.

"I can't really keep doing this, Mike." Julie sighed out a cloud of smoke. She said it so matter-of-factly, as casually as if she were simply commenting on the weather.

Mike whipped round to look at her. "Keep doing what?"

"This," Julie threw her hands up and tucked them into her vest pockets after handing Mike the cigarette back. "This... 'relationship'. It's not working out."

"What... whaddya mean? We just started dating, it's kinda too early to tell--"

"No, Mike." Julie interrupted loudly. Her eyes were avoiding Mike's face carefully. "No... it's not. We've been together for months and we have never moved on from our friendship. You... just admit it, dude. You're just not into me."

Mike pushed himself off of Mutt and placed his hands on both of her shoulders, forcing them to stand face-to-face. "Julie, look at me." He had his jaw set.

Julie swallowed as she peered up at him from her bangs.

"I love you more than you can ever know. I know I’m messing up, but... but I’m trying, okay? Just give us one more chance, Jules. I can make it right, I know it!"

Julie took a step back, wrinkling her nose. "Mike! Just give it up, okay? I know you don't feel the same about me as I do about you," she pleaded, mortified. "It's okay! It's fine! We can just move on and let it go!"

"B-but it's not! No, Julie c'mon, bro--"

"Bro?!" Julie exploded, hands in the air now. "Are you hearing yourself right now? Am I your girlfriend, or your bro?"

Mike gaped at her like a fish, mouth opening just to close again. Then, he hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands in his pockets.

He kicked a couple of rocks off the cliff, watching the pebbles scatter and plummet dozens of feet below.

Then he ran his hands through his hair, a nervous habit of his, before returning back to Julie.

He exhaled loudly. "What... what's the difference? You... isn't that what dating is all about? Being best friends with your partner?"

Julie glared at him. "Yes! And it's also about being more than that, too!"

Mike scoffed. "More than friends? What does that even mean? Nothing is more important than friendship, Jules. Not in Motorcity."

"Nothing is more important than friendship?! Mike--" Here, Julie took a step back to pinch her nose and exhale. "Look. When I confessed my feelings to you for the first time, what were you feeling?"

"What was I feeling? Uh, I dunno, happiness I guess? What, did you want me to say that I didn't care? I care about your feelings, Julie! I do!"

"So you started dating me because you didn't want to hurt my feelings?!" Julie shouted.

"Where are you getting that from?!" Mike shouted back.

"Mike! You are just not into me! I can just tell! It's okay! W-we can just be friends, like how we used to be. I don't even know why you're fighting me so hard on this, I'm the one breaking up with you. You can't change my mind!"

"Right," Mike huffed, "because you don't love me anymore. No, I get it. It's fine."

They glared at each other for a beat.

Then, Julie shoved her hands back into her vest pockets. "No, Mike. I do love you. I just think..." she sighed, all the wind in her sails blowing away, "I just think it's best for us to go our own separate ways."

Mike startled. "Wait, what? Jules... are you...? You're not leaving the Burners, are you?"

"No, I'm not leaving the Burners." Julie says through clenched teeth. "I'm just gonna take a quick break and then when I come back? We're gonna be just friends again, Mike. Alright?"

Mike inhales deeply, his own anger trickling out of him like water as well. "... Fine. Fine, yeah. Whatever you want, Julie." He hangs his head.

They then stare off into the horizon together, watching the twinkling star-like pinpoints of light on the underside of the dome. Watching as the lake's waters undulate and shimmer in the darkness of the cool evening, a gigantic dark mirror reflecting the pinpoints back to the ceiling.

Mike idly scuffs his boot on the ground again, putting out their shared cigarette. In a sad sort of way, the dying ember of the smoldering stick being stomped out into rocks and gravel was a lot like their relationship: dead and done. And of course it had to be Mike to put them both out, huh. Right.

Real poetic.

Julie turns around wordlessly, climbs into Mutt and sits in Chuck's seat.

Time to go.

After a few seconds Mike nods once, fixes his collar and slides into his own seat.

The ride back up to Deluxe is quiet.

Except this time, it had been a long while since they had the time to relax like this. These days, Kane's attacks were getting more and more savage, brutal... and cunning.

It was a couple years later when the kids were a bit older --but not that much older at the same time-- that they all filed past the doors of Antonio's and slid right into their usual booth.

Kane's latest attempt at a hostile takeover of Motorcity involved way too many sneaky double-crossing spies all trying to break the Burners up and weaken the city's best defense. Sneaky bastard, that Abraham Kane.

But they thwarted him yet again, despite it all. They beat the bad guys, restored peace back amongst the gangs and the civilians, and saved the day.

It had taken weeks this time, but they succeeded.

So now to celebrate, they're placing their orders for the greasiest, most heart-clogging fast food on the menu and sitting back to happily sip at their drinks. They're finally enjoying their time together again, and Mike is especially pleased that everyone made it out alive.

Sitting elbow-to-elbow with his bestest friends in the world, Mike takes advantage of a lull in the conversation to clap his hands together and get everyone's attention.

"Okay, guys!" He announces. "So, I'm pretty sure we're all kinda fried after... y'know, everything. Everyone's probably too tired to care about what I'm going to say next! So... confession time."

"Hmhmm! Spill, then," Chuck smirks, his chin in his cyborg hand. It was a recent upgrade to his prosthetic, and it shone a beautiful silvery-blue under the diner lights.

Mike chuckles nervously. "Uh, I... I think that... I figured out that I can't fall in love!"

Everyone stares at him.

Chuck casually slurps his milkshake through a straw.

Dutch turns to him then. "Wait. You knew?"

Chuck sits up. "Uhh hahaha, whoa. Where'd that come from? You psychic or somethin'?" He deflects awkwardly.

"You're clearly not surprised," Dutch points out.

"Pfft yeah I'm not surprised. Who's been Mike's best friend since, like, kindergarten again?"

"Ah. And ya didn't think to let me know anything back when we were dating? Sure would've saved us a lot of time," Julie quipped drily.

Chuck holds his mismatched hands up. "Now hold on a minute! I didn't know back then, obviously. Besides, you two dated years ago for like... three seconds!"

"Two years ago, smartass," Julie snips back.

Mike clears his throat conspicuously. "Guys! Guys, no need to fight over me," he jokes awkwardly, "because I, uhm, I've decided I don't belong to anybody! I'm just me, and I'm not dating anyone. Like, ever."

Everyone turns back to him again.

With four pairs of eyes on him, Mike draws in on himself a bit as he continues. "Yeah, it's. It's something that I've been kinda discovering about myself and I'm still... exploring it. But I'm pretty sure I've never had a crush in my life. I was just walking through life distracted by everything else for so long that I never noticed it, but... yeah. I've just. I've just never felt love for anyone else before, I guess."

"Which is fine," Chuck blurts out suddenly. "It's... it's fine! That Mike's never fallen in love with anyone. It happens. Some people just don't experience a common thing most people do... like romance, or sex. Yeah! Totally normal!"

Dutch smirks at Chuck. "You too, then? You a non-romantic as well?"

Chuck shakes his head so hard his bangs swing. "No! Nuh uh, I'm a lover, not a fighter. I'm definitely a romantic!"

"Why so nervous all of a sudden, then?"

"Because," Chuck replies, "because... it's fine! To not ever fall in love or like... date, or kiss or have sex or whatever. We're in Motorcity now, and we can get to do whatever we want. And if we don't wanna date, then we don't have to!" Then he clamps his mouth shut.

Mike perks up then. "That's right! And ah, yeah! Speaking of, Chuckles... lemme tell ya, I really gotta hand it to ya. If it weren't for you, I'd've never figured this one out. So, thanks, buddy! As always, you really had my back on this one."

Chuck and Mike smile at each other and Texas raises a brow.

"Huh?" Texas says. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

Chuck titters nervously as Mike pulls up a screen and opens up a forum.

"It means that Chuckles here helped me find a site that explained everything I was experiencing! Or... not experiencing, really."

Chuck clears his throat, clearly relieved. "Uh, yeah! Well, after Mike's like, 10th girlfriend that one time he couldn't stop bringing people back home, he came to me all frustrated and stuff and... well, we went off to find my friends in the LARPing arena to see if anyone had any idea why he was burning through dates like Mutt burns through tires. And so someone suggested he might be aromantic, and uh... well, the rest is history!"

Dutch and Julie hummed in acknowledgement.

Everyone knew what that was like, how weird it was that Golden Child Mike all of sudden started bringing people home from parties and bars shortly after his breakup with Julie. Sometimes he even had two people on his arms, some men, some women. Never the same person after two or three times, though.

They were all perplexed when they first heard laughing and chattering behind Mike's bedroom door. Once the moaning started, though... well! Everyone poked fun at him the mornings after and teased him to varying degrees, but things were mostly chill in the beginning.

Everyone remembered Mike's frustrations after a while, though. How he could never quite land a steady relationship-- no matter how hard he tried, with whoever. It got to the point where the Burners stopped their teasing and became quite concerned after Mike introduced his 5th girlfriend in the span of like... 6 months, once upon a time.

It was shortly after his final breakup that Mike flopped down onto his best friend's messy bed one evening and finally had The Conversation.

It went well, all things considered. Chuck, patient as ever, listened to his friend and then when he couldn't offer any solid advice, he offered a distraction. The LARPing arena proved to be much better help than they could ever hope for.

Ever since then, Mike's been up late into the night often, completely engrossed in all things aromantic. He wanted to learn more about it, yearned for a community that knew exactly what he was feeling; so he stayed awake just swiping through sites and PDFs on his holoscreens, eating every bit of information up.

Now, it looked like Mike was at peace with himself and his station in life after all this time. That was a relief!

"Aromantic! That's it! Look at this, guys." Here, Mike grins and pulls up a photo of a striped flag. "This is the community flag. Look familiar?"

The colors of the flag had two shades of green at the top that then cascaded into white, then grey and then black.

Texas leaned forward. "It looks like Mutt!" He practically shouts.

Everyone laughs.

"Yeah, that sure is a you flag if I've ever seen one," Julie quips.

"Right? Like it was meant to be! So I guess I'm part of this community, then. I mean, this really is a kickass flag..."

"But what does that mean, though? That you can never fall in love with anyone, ever?" Julie asks.

Mike closes his screens and clasps his hands on the table, exhaling a bit. "Uhh, well? Well, yeah! I can't ever fall in love... but it doesn't feel that way to me! Ugh, I'm probably gonna do such a bad job explaining this," he laughs self-consciously.

"It's okay, dude. Take your time," Dutch smiles warmly.

Mike shoots him a grateful smile back. "... It... it's like. Well? It's like... I've never felt butterflies in my stomach before, so I have no idea what that's like. But I like you guys, a lot. Like a lot, a lot. I love hanging out with you all even though I don't think about any of you guys like that. I love making friends-- like true friends-- and I can't stop thinking about how happy hanging out with people makes me. I guess I'm just way more platonic than romantic, because I am just... so bad at love! God, I've never had so much trouble with anything in my life before like I have with romance," he groans, grimacing.

"And when Mike Fucking Chilton says that, that's how you know he's struggling!" Dutch puts in.

Everyone giggles.

"Wow," Julie gives Mike a side-long glance. "Finally. Something that The Great Mike Chilton is bad at! We've finally got him, boys."

Texas leaps out of his seat and enthusiastically karate-chops the air. "Hoo-WAH!!! Finally! Something I got over on ya, Mike. Texas is better at romancing than you!"

Julie rolls her eyes.

Mike guffaws. "Psshhwhat? C'mon guys, I'm bad at plenty of stuff. This isn't the first!"

"Oh yeah? Name one thing!" Dutch challenges.

"Uhhm well uh, I...? I'm pretty bad at... hm." Mike drums his fingers on the table. "I'm bad at coding! I'm not nearly as good as Chuck at the software and tech side of things!"

"But ya could be! You could totally learn how to, if you'd just sit down with me for more than 20 minutes," Chuck points out.

Mike stubbornly folds his arms across his chest. "Well, I don't wanna! What're you gonna do about it?"

And just like that, the kids all return back to normalcy, bickering and quibbling about nothing as they finally receive their food from the waitress. Soon after, Chuck and Texas are throwing pizza toppings and wadded up paper at each other and Mike is mom-ing at them to quit it before they all get kicked out.

It was as if nothing even happened.

It was simultaneously comforting and also thrilling how easily Mike was accepted back into the fold; the Burners' Heartless Leader who could never fall in love.

On the inside, Mike was deeply grateful and his heart felt full upon learning this, though. It was a nourishing feeling that his bestest friends in the whole world who worked hard, played hard, lived fast and free alongside him... they loved him and accepted him back, no matter what. It was a much nicer and fuzzier feeling than any romance-filled relationship or hookup ever gave him.

Now, the Burners are finally leaving the diner, all tipsy and giddy from their impromptu late-night happy hour session.

Mike has a casual arm slung over Chuck's shoulder as they traipse on over to Mutt. Everyone casually daps each other up and offers quick goodbyes before climbing into their respective cars.

Mike slides behind the wheel and exhales. Chuck clicks himself into his secure harness.

"Well! That went pretty well! A little too easily, honestly but," Mike breathes.

Chuck's blonde head bobs. "Well yeah, dude. Of course. What'd ya think, that'd we kick you out of the team for that?"

Mike shrugs and turns his skeleton key into Mutt's ignition, bringing her to roar awake again. "I mean... no. But, y'know. It's weird, having a leader of a gang that can't ever fall in love, right? Like some heartless freak or somethin'. I dunno," he chuckled wryly.

Chuck frowns. "Mike. You're not a freak," he says firmly.

Mike gives his best friend a sidelong glance. "Chuck..." he speaks, voice low, "it's not like that! You know what I mean... it's just that sometimes people who are different don't get treated so well all the time, yanno?"

"Yeah, sure, back up in Deluxe," Chuck argues. "But it's different down here in Motorcity. It's good here for people like us!"

Mike hums thoughtfully as he drums his fingers on the wheel. "Yeah, you're right..." then, he smirks at Chuck. "So if that's true, then why didn't you come out, back there? I actually thought you were gonna do it. It even looked like Dutch suspected something, too!"

Mike smiles at his friend, who is doing his best impression of a carseat cover now.

"Mmnyeah... yeah, I could've." Chuck gives a noncommittal shrug, hesitating.

"What's wrong?"

After a few seconds, Chuck swipes at his bangs self-consciously and clears his throat. "Uhmm well... being aromantic and never falling in love is kinda... badass, don'tcha think? But for a guy like me, never wanting to have sex and being a dope for romance is just pathetic," he laments. "If people hear that I'm asexual and that I never want to bang anyone, I'd get laughed out of the room! It's not an asexual thing, Mikey, it's a me thing."

Mike throws Mutt into reverse and backs her out of their parking spot with practiced ease.

"Chuckles. My guy. Look, who cares what other people think? If you don't wanna bone, you're just not gonna. That doesn't hurt anyone at all, so screw anyone who says anything about it. If anyone gives you a hard time, call me up and I'll spin the block for you,"

Chuck bursts into a peal of nervous giggles. "Whoa, whoa Mikey, geez! Christ, thanks, man but that's really not necessary. I appreciate you, though,"

They smile at each other again.

Then after a beat, Mike adds, "plus, if they know about aromanticism, they're gonna eventually find out about asexuality, too, dude."

Chuck laughs weakly as he clutches his arms. "O-oh...! Yeah... yeah that's tr--"

Mike suddenly slams his boot down on the gas pedal and Mutt growls as she lurches into hundred-mile-speeds from a standstill. Her tires screech loudly on the pavement and she leaves a giant plume of smoke and dirt behind as everyone careens over a drop straight onto the Deluxian Supply Pipes.

"Miiikkee-eeyyyy!!! We just ate!" Chuck screeches, horrified. He clings onto the car seat with both hands as Mike laughs.

Chuck's screams and Mike's loud, joyous shouting and whooping can be heard far and wide throughout Motorcity as they race all the way back home.

#mine #aggressivelyarospecweek #motorcity #mike chilton #aromantic #aro #hope ppl enjoy my arospec week offerings!#i had fun writing the burners again after so much time. my kiddos 🥺#i luv them <3 #julie heals just fine after their breakup btw she's with her own childhood friend claire lezzing it up so everyone wins in the end 🫶#dont worry abt it LOL #if it sounds a bit allo-centric its bc it is. i tried to replicate the Motorcity Writers Voice when i wrote this down #i was like “hmm. how WOULD a non-arospec person write this topic for a kids show abt racing cars? 🤔”#“i think i know! :)”#so @ other motorcitizens pls let me know if i did Good or Bad #in that way it was a p fun writing excercise. also. i love julie so i wanted readers to feel bad for the poor lil meow meow #we are Julie Stans in this home. i didnt stick her into a failing teen relationship bc i hate her 🤧#she just had to be the First Target bc the show tries to set mike and julie up subtly in canon and my aro brain went “goddamn it.”#so #uh yeah #anyways im rambling #hope u enjoyed byyyyyyyeeeee :3

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