3 Ottobre 2025, un’Italia che riempe d’orgoglio ✊🏻🇵🇸
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3 Ottobre 2025, un’Italia che riempe d’orgoglio ✊🏻🇵🇸

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SELFISH pt. 2 !
˖᯽ ݁˖· ─ jude bellingham x celebrity!fem.reader
sypnosis. After filming with Vogue, you went home and confronted Jude during dinner, just as your manager advised. However, the conversation didn’t end well between the two of you.
contents. part 2 to “what’s in my bag” . angst . arguing . reader has a past relationship trauma . jude is a jealous man . protective jude .
warnings. cursing . screaming . mentions of trauma . hate . men being men .
jude’s masterlist
Finally arriving at your shared apartment, you were greeted by silence. The living room was still, with no sound from the television and no loud voices or laughter filling the space.
Jude wasn't home yet.
You let out a quiet sigh before heading to the bathroom. After a long shower, you changed into a pair of comfortable clothes, feeling some of theday's tiredness wash away with the warm water.
With the apartment still quiet, you made your way to the kitchen. You tied your hair back, gathered the ingredients from the fridge, and started preparing dinner. The soft sound of vegetables being chopped and a pan sizzling on the stove became the only noise in the room. Every now and then, you glanced at the clock, wondering when Jude would finally walk through the door.
About an hour later, you heard the front door unlock, followed by the familiar sound of shoes being kicked off and quiet shuffling in the hallway.
You turned toward the entrance and saw your boyfriend standing there, looking exhausted. His hair was messy, his clothes were slightly wrinkled, and a light layer of sweat covered his face. Even with the tired look in his eyes, seeing him home made the apartment feel a little less empty.
“Hey, babe.” You smiled up at him before turning back to the food on the stove, giving it another stir.
You heard his footsteps coming closer, a small smile already forming on your lips. A second later, his arms slipped aroundyour waist, pulling you gently against him.
Jude rested his head on your shoulder and let out a quiet hum before burying his face into the crook of your neck. He held you close, soaking in the comfort of the moment while you continued cooking.
“Tired?” you asked.
“Very,” he hummed, his face still buried in your neck.
“Dinner's almost ready.” You gently nudged him with your elbow. “You should go take a shower. You smell like sweat.”
Jude let out a laugh and loosened his arms from around your waist. Before walking away, he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.
“I'll be quick,” he said.
You smiled to yourself as he disappeared down the hallway. A moment later, thesound of the shower running filled the quiet house while you finished making dinner.
Later, Jude finally finished showering and changing before making his way back to join you for dinner.
You had already settled at the table, quietly waiting for him. The food was still warm, and you smiled the moment you heard his footsteps getting closer.
"There you are," you said softly.
Jude grinned as soon as he saw you. "Look so good, baby," he said with a smile, leaningdown to press a quick kiss to your lips before taking the seat beside you. His hand rested on your thigh for a moment, giving it a gentle squeeze before he reached for his plate.
“So, how was training?" you asked as the two of you started eating.
"Tiring," Jude replied with a small sigh. "Coach had us running around the field for hours."
He took another bite before looking at you.
"What about you?" he asked. "How was your day? How was filming?"
"It went well..." you said, but your voice faded.
Jude paused mid-bite, immediately noticing the change in your tone. His brows pulled together as he looked at you.
"...Something happened, didn't it?"
You nodded slightly.
"What happened?" he asked, worry clear in his voice.
You quietly set your spoon and fork down onyour plate before meeting his eyes. He watched your every move, his expression growing more nervous. You noticed him swallow hard.
"Apparently," you began, keeping your voice calm, "you forgot your stuff in my bag."
He quickly straightened in his seat.
"Really?" he asked. "Oh... sorry, babe. I forgot to take them out."
"I didn't even know you put them there—"
"It was when I forgot to bring a bag," he explained a little too quickly. "So I put my AirPods and bracelet in yours."
You looked at him for a second before speaking.
"I didn't say what object, Jude."
He froze.
For a brief moment, he looked like he'd been caught. Then he let out a small laugh—the same kind of laugh you had noticed he always gave whenever he was nervous.
"Of course I know what object," he said, tryingto sound casual. "I was the one who left it there."
Right.
He's right.
Of course.
“Why?" he asked. "Did you end up showing them to Vogue?"
"Yes," you sighed.
"Why do you sound so upset?" he asked with a small smile. "I'm sure no one's going to figure out they're mine."
"Well... I had them covered," you said. "But I'm pretty sure the bracelet gave it away. I mean, why would I own a men's bracelet?"
"Because you don't have limits when it comes to fashion?" he shrugged, brushing it off like it wasn't a big deal.
But he still wouldn't look you in the eyes.
Instead, he focused on his plate, taking another bite even though you could tell he was nervous, like he had done something the way he avoided your gaze.
“But that's not what I'm really upset about—"
"You kind of sound like it."
Your eyes snapped to him.
Jude immediately stopped eating, the words sinking in the moment they left his mouth. His expression shifted as he realized how they had sounded.
"No—I didn't mean it like that, babe—"
"I found our photo in my bag," you cut him off. "The one I don't remember putting there."
"Babe..."
"The same photo you wouldn't even let me touch," you continued, your voice rising despite your effort to stay calm. He could hear the frustration and hurt building with every word. "The same photo you said and I quote, should just stay stuck on the refrigerator."
Silence.
Jude didn't say a word.
You stared at him, waiting.
"So?"
He swallowed.
"How did it end up in my bag?"
His brows furrowed.
"...Are you blaming me?"
"I'm not blaming you," you replied, stressing every word. "I'm asking you, Jude."
“Did you put that photo there on purpose or not?" you asked.
You stared at him, your eyes slowly filling with tears from frustration. You hated thathe could see you like this. You hated that you were letting it affect you so much.
But Jude didn’t answer.
Silence.
And then you saw it—the guilt in his eyes.
Your heart dropped.
"Why..." you whispered. "You knew... you know I'm not ready yet, and still you—"
"You didn't have to show it to them," he finally interrupted, looking up at you. "You could've just ignored it and ended it there."
"It's no use when they already saw it!" your voice rose.
The words came out louder than you intended.
Jude looked at you, shock written all over his face.
You closed your eyes and let out a shaky sigh, trying to calm yourself.
"Then... tell them to cut it out," he said quietly. "Tell them to remove the clip."
A small, bitter scoff escaped your lips.
Jude frowned.
"You still don't get it, do you?"
You pushed your chair back and stood, looking down at him.
"I don't have that kind of authority over them. And even if I asked, it wouldn't change anything."
"They already know now," you continued, your voice trembling with frustration. "And you know how people are. They talk. Then they tell other people, and suddenly everyone starts digging into my life, trying to figure out who I'm dating."
You shook your head, your eyes locking with his.
"And then what?"
A heavy silence settled between you.
"They're going to figure out it's you."
Another silence filled the room.
It only made your frustration worse.
His silence. His lack of an explanation. It all bothered you more than you wanted to admit.
"You know how fangirls are," you said as you sank back into your chair. "Especially when it comes to you."
Jude let out a quiet sigh before finally speaking.
"I didn't think it would be that bad for you. I was just trying to give them a hint that you were taken."
You stared at him in disbelief.
For a moment, all you could do was look at him, as if he'd suddenly grown another head.
"I... I told you I wasn't ready yet, Jude!"
"I know. I know that—"
"Oh, do you really?" you cut him off. "Because if you did, you wouldn't have done this."
"We’re still waiting for the right time—"
A scoff cut you off.
Your eyes snapped to Jude.
"There it is again," he said, shaking his head. He wasn't trying to hide how upset he was anymore. "'The right time.' That's all I ever hear."
He let out a humorless laugh.
"So when is this right time supposed to come, love?"
The question hung between you.
You opened your mouth, but no words came out.
You just stared at him.
Shocked.
You couldn't believe what you were hearing.
All this time, you had convinced yourself that he understood. That he respected your decision. That he was willing to wait until you were ready.
But now...
Here he was.
Visibly upset.
Upset that the two of you—your relationship, your love—had to stay hidden. Kept quiet. Tucked away from everyone else.
As if it only existed behind closed doors.
Where no one knew the two of you belonged to each other.
"You know what I went through because of my past..." you choked out, your lips trembling as you fought back tears. "The things they put me through... just because I was dating someone..."
"He was a fucking git, Y/N," Jude said, his voice firm, though it carried its own hurt. "And you know that."
"He never stood up for you. Not once." His jaw tightened. "He watched while they tore you apart, and he never once defended your name."
The words hit harder than you wanted them to.
Because he was right.
He never did.
Your chest tightened, anger and heartbreak twisting together until you couldn't tell them apart.
You weren't angry because Jude was telling the truth.
And you weren't trying to defend your ex.
You were angry because you had let it happen.
You could have walked away so much sooner.
You had every reason to leave.
But you didn't.
You stayed.
You let yourself be dragged through hell, one cruel headline, one hateful comment, one sleepless night after another, until there was barely anything left of you.
Why?
Because you loved him.
You loved him so much that you convinced yourself the pain was worth it.
That if you just held on a little longer, things would get better.
They never did.
Your voice cracked as tears finally spilled over.
"And now you're asking me to go through all of that again?" you whispered, looking at Jude through blurred eyes. "Do you have any idea how terrifying that is for me?"
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
The room was silent except for your uneven breathing.
Jude looked like he wanted to reach for you.
But neither of you moved.
“I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said quietly, letting out a tired sigh.
He looked into your eyes, and for the first time since the argument began, you saw it clearly.
The guilt.
The regret.
He felt awful. You could see it in the way his shoulders had dropped, in the way he couldn't hold your gaze for more than a few seconds.
"I just..." His voice caught. "I just couldn't take it anymore."
You frowned.
"What do you mean?"
He looked away, rubbing a hand over his face.
"The boys..." He stopped, his lips pressing into a thin line as if saying it out loud hurt more than he expected.
"What about them?" you asked softly.
Another heavy sigh left him.
"I didn't like the way they talked about you."
His jaw clenched as the memory came rushing back.
It was only a few minutes before training when everyone gathered in the locker room to change.
Lockers slammed shut, conversations echoed through the room, and the sound of shoes hitting the floor filled the air as the players got themselves ready.
Jude stood in front of his locker, pulling on his training shirt before fixing the sleeves. He grabbed his water bottle and was about to close his locker when a chorus of loud whistles and teasing "Oohs!" came from the other side of the room.
His brows furrowed.
He turned to see most of the boys crowded together in a tight circle. One of his teammates stood in the middle, holding up a phone while the others leaned in, their eyes glued to the screen. Some were laughing, others looked genuinely surprised, while a few kept asking to scroll back.
Curious, Jude shut his locker and walked over.
"What are you lot looking at?" he asked, trying to peek over someone's shoulder.
"Oi, come here!" one of them called, looking up at Jude with a grin. "You've got to see this!"
Curiosity got the better of him.
Jude made his way over, squeezing between a few of his teammates until one of them pulled him closer and held the phone right in front of him.
The moment he looked at the screen, his eyes widened.
It was you.
A new Victoria's Secret campaign had just been posted, featuring you in different sets of lingerie and sleepwear. Each photo looked effortless, and the comments were already pouring in.
Jude hadn't seen the post yet, but he knew all about the shoot.
He had been there.
He remembered that day like it had happened yesterday.
Every minute.
Every second.
Every little moment that made it impossible for him to focus on anything else.
More than once, he'd had to stop himself from walking onto the set, taking your hand, and stealing you away. He wanted nothing more than to leave with you, go home, and have you all to himself.
You hadn't made it any easier.
Every chance you got, you'd glance at him from in front of the camera, wearing that teasing smile you knew always got to him. The playful looks you sent his way made his heart race, even from across the studio.
Whenever you walked past him to change into another set, you'd give your hips the smallest sway on purpose, never once looking back because you already knew he was watching.
And between takes, you'd flash him an innocent smile, pretending you hadn't been driving him crazy the entire shoot.
You teased him from the moment the cameras started rolling until they finally wrapped for the day.
By the time it was over, all Jude could think about was getting you home.
"God, she's so hot," one of them said with a low whistle.
"Whoever gets to come home to her every night is the luckiest man alive."
"Her ex seriously messed that up."
"I'm not gonna lie, I was happy when they broke up."
"You think she's single?"
"As if you'd ever have a chance."
"Just watch me."
"Damn... look at that body."
The comments kept coming, one after another, bouncing around the locker room as the boys laughed among themselves. As they keep on sliding on each photo, sliding back to the other photos time to time, to make comments.
At first, he tried to ignore them.
He told himself they didn't know.
They had no idea they were talking about his girlfriend.
But with every comment, his jaw clenched a little tighter.
His brows pulled together, and his grip on his water bottle tightened until his knuckles turned white.
He wanted to tell them to stop.
He wanted to tell them you weren’t just some celebrity on a screen.
You were his.
The woman he loves.
But he couldn't.
Not without exposing the one secret the two of you had worked so hard to protect.
Across the room, Trent noticed the change in his expression first.
He exchanged a quick glance with Kylian.
The two of them were the only teammates who knew about your relationship with Jude. They had kept that secret without question, respecting both of your wishes.
Now, watching Jude stand there in silence while the others unknowingly talked about you, checking you out, they could already tell he was reaching his limit.
"Just imagine spending one night with her," one of them said, making a few of the others laugh in agreement.
"One night with her and I'd be the happiest man alive."
"The things I'd do with her..."
That was it.
Something inside Jude snapped.
The anger he'd been trying so hard to keep under control boiled over. Before he could think twice, he took a step forward, ready to throw the first punch at the teammate who had dared to speak about you like that.
A hand grabbed his arm.
Then another.
"Kylian—"
"Don't," Kylian said firmly, holding him back.
At the same time, Trent stepped in front of him.
"Leave it," he said quietly. "Don't waste your energy on this. We've got training in a few minutes."
"They don't deserve your attention."
Jude's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as the two of them guided him out of the locker room. Behind them, the rest of the team hadn't noticed a thing, still crowded around the phone, laughing and making comments.
The moment they stepped outside, Jude pulled his arm free.
"Did you hear what they were saying?" he said through gritted teeth. "They were talking about my girl like that... right in front of me."
"To be fair," Trent replied with a sigh, "they don't know you two are together."
"I don't care!" Jude snapped. "Dating or not, they shouldn't be talking about anyone like that."
Frustration took over.
He spotted a football lying on the grass and struck it as hard as he could.
The ball flew across the training pitch, making a few members of the coaching staff turn toward them in surprise.
Kylian gave them an apologetic wave before looking back at Jude.
His fists were still clenched.
His breathing was uneven.
And despite everything, the only thing running through his mind was that he couldn't even tell them to stop.
Because protecting your secret meant standing there and listening while they talked about the woman he loved as if she were just another face on their screens to fantasize with.
"Some of them already have girlfriends," Kylian said with a disappointed sigh, shaking his head.
Jude only looked away, his jaw still tight.
Training didn't go well after that.
The anger, frustration, and jealousy he had been holding back followed him onto the pitch.
Every tackle was harder than it needed to be.
Every challenge came with a little more force.
And somehow, the teammates who had made those comments were always the ones on the receiving end.
"Easy, Jude!" the coach shouted after another rough challenge.
"Calm down!"
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
His teammates began throwing him confused looks, wondering what had gotten into him. A few muttered under their breath after another hard tackle, while others simply stayed out of his way.
Even the manager stepped in, reminding him to take it down a level.
Jude barely heard him.
All he could hear were the comments from the locker room.
The words replayed over and over in his head, making every pass, every sprint, and every challenge a way to let out the anger he couldn't say aloud.
By the end of training, everyone knew something had set Jude off.
"I didn't like the way they were talking about you," he said quietly, letting out another tired sigh. "Not just the boys... the people online too."
He looked down at his hands before speaking again.
"I couldn't take it anymore. Every post, every comment... it was always the same. People talking about your body, acting like they had a chance, saying all these things about you like you weren't even a person."
His jaw tightened.
"It drove me insane."
He finally looked up at you, his eyes glossy with guilt.
"I thought..." he paused, searching for the right words. "I thought that if people knew you were already taken... if they knew you were with someone..."
"They'd stop."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"I wasn't trying to force you into anything. I wasn't trying to take that choice away from you."
He swallowed hard.
"I just wanted them to leave you alone."
He took a hesitant step closer, careful not to invade your space.
"I'm sorry, baby."
"I never meant to upset you."
A sad smile tugged at his lips before disappearing just as quickly.
"I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose."
"But seeing people talk about the woman I love like that every single day..."
He shook his head.
"It was breaking me too."
"And you think revealing the relationship would make people respect me?"
The question hung in the air.
Jude didn't answer.
You understood why he did it.
And that was what made this hurt even more.
You knew he hadn't meant any harm. He wasn't trying to hurt you.
He was trying to protect you.
But in doing so, he had taken a risk that wasn't his to take.
A risk that could change everything for you.
"You let your jealousy get the better of you," you said quietly.
Jude lowered his head.
"...Yeah."
If your past hadn't left its scars...
If none of it had ever happened...
You probably would've melted into his arms right then and there.
You would've forgiven him without another thought.
But you couldn't.
No matter how much you understood his reasons, your body still remembered what your heart wanted to forget.
The fear.
The trauma.
The sleepless nights.
The panic every time your phone wouldn't stop ringing.
The sessions you have with your therapist.
The hateful messages.
The way your life had once been torn apart just because you loved a boy.
It had taken years to put yourself back together.
And now, standing in front of Jude, you could feel those old wounds opening all over again.
Not because you didn't love him.
But because you were terrified of living that nightmare a second time.
“Still,” you spoke once again. “It was selfish thing to do.”
He had acted on without your consent.
“I love you Jude.”
His head quickly raised to look at you from those words.
“But I am the one who has to face the consequences if this goes wrong.”
You looked away, swallowing the lump in your throat.
"And I need you to understand that my fear isn't because I don't love you.”
A pause.
"It's because I know what happens when people get involved in something that was supposed to be ours."
Dinner was silent.
Neither of you said a word to each other.
You refused to meet his gaze or even turn in his direction. Still, you could feel his eyes on you from time to time, heavy with things he wanted to say but didn't know how.
Usually, after dinner, the two of you would spend the rest of the night together.
Playing games.
Watching shows.
Picking a movie and pretending to argue over what to watch.
But tonight, none of that happened.
Instead, you both went to bed early.
Still no conversation.
You climbed into your shared bed, pulling the blanket over yourself and turning to face the other side of the room. You kept your back toward Jude as he changed for bed, pretending to be focused on anything else.
Minutes passed.
You waited.
You expected to feel the mattress dip beside you. You expected the familiar warmth of him lying next to you, even if the silence between you remained.
But it never came.
Instead, you heard shuffling.
Your brows furrowed slightly.
Then you heard him pick up his pillow.
There was a pause.
You still didn't turn around.
"I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight."
Your heart dropped.
Then the bed dipped.
You could feel his warmth behind you. His hot breath brushed against your skin, and your eyes squeezed shut.
Pretending to sleep.
Pretending you hadn't been awake this whole time, waiting for him to come and lay down beside you.
Pretending you hadn't heard the words.
You heard him let out a quiet sigh.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Then, softly, you felt his lips press against your shoulder blade.
A small, gentle kiss.
"Goodnight, baby."
Your chest tightened.
You wanted to turn around.
You wanted to stop him.
You wanted to tell him to stay.
But you didn't.
A few seconds later, you felt him pull away.
The mattress lifted as he stood up, and soon after, you heard the bedroom door slowly close.
Leaving you alone.
Alone in the room you shared.
Alone in the bed that was supposed to hold the two of you.
sophia speaks ! Finally, it's here! It took me long enough to finish this. I'm sorry if it isn't perfect, but I really tried my best guys. I'm not usually someone who likes angst, but I wanted to give it a try. I hope you guys enjoyed it and that it was okay. Thank you for reading!
Also, my first two publishes? 1k and 2k likes on each of them! It’s insane! I’m so happy!!! Thank you for all the love on my fics <33
POV: Author uploading a new part of a story after months
Me who forgot the whole plot but still happy they updated it
I think this is part of a much larger conversation we need to have about F1 academy and women in motorsports.
Despite being in the title fight for F1 academy and showing such amazing talent Maya has no real seat. So many of the F1 academy girls get dropped from their teams once they time out of F1 academy. And even if they stay within gb3 or similar series a majority of them aren't backed by the teams that backed them in F1 academy.
Doriane won the championship last year and yet she's only done 4 races within Le Mans LMP2. Lia Block is back in rally which she was already doing prior to F1 academy. Abbi Pulling and Aurelia Nobles are both in Gb3 but neither are with their F1 driver academy anymore. I just hate how F1 gets to basically use F1 academy to claim they are inclusive yet 90% of the F1 academy drivers are dropped once they finish their 2 seasons in F1 academy.
Like this is one of the only sports where gender doesn't matter in terms of ability and yet it is so behind in inclusivity. F1 academy is good in theory but it really needs to restructure in a way that helps the girls continue through junior series to reach the higher series.
Maya Weug is being Cut Out by Motorsport and Scuderia Ferrari
Maya Weug will no longer race in 2026, and has opened up about failed plans after her 2025 vice championship season in F1 Academy. She was left on her own; with no support. Weug has publicly requested for teams and sponsors to reach out to her. The plans that were originally in place were pulled out from under her and she scrambled for a seat. Now even that has gone away.
Maya Weug is one of the greatest talents of her generation. She was abandoned by Scuderia Ferrari. They dropped her unceremoniously with not a single explanation.
Maya doesn’t deserve this, she has more talent in her pinky finger than most other drivers have in their whole body. The fact that she has had resorted to public pleading to save her career is disappointing and at the same time, an all too familiar occurrence for female drivers.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — 𝐉𝐎𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐌
✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ pairing: jobe bellingham x fem!oc
✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ sumary: chance encounter. A lost tourist in Sunderland. A footballer’s unexpected kindness leads to shared laughs and a subtle connection. But the language barrier and a professional commitment keep things from going further—at least for now.
✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ warnings: english is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes!
keara’s imessage: wow, it's been a few days since I posted the masterlist for The Unspoken Connection, and I'm finally dropping the first chapter! Sorry for the wait, but I hope you all enjoy this little sneak peek into Sarah and Jobe’s world! 💕 Taglist is below, so let me know if you want in! I’d love to hear your thoughts! 😘
masterlist
Sarah adjusted her coat and stepped out of the building where she was staying, her headphones playing a song that made her feel a little safer in the middle of all this. The day was freezing, and the wind stung her cheeks, but she was excited. The idea of exploring cities in the UK with her language school friends seemed like a great way to make the most of her exchange experience.
But, as always, things didn’t go as planned. On the subway, she tried to follow the instructions on a sign, but the station names and directions moved too fast for her to properly understand. The first time she asked someone for help, the response came so quickly that she had to force a smile and nod in thanks—without actually understanding a single word.
This is fine. You’re doing great, Sarah. You’ll learn.
She tried to convince herself while clutching a makeshift map scribbled on the back of a paper with an address on it. But the insecurity was always there, hidden in the words she still didn’t fully grasp.
Still, when she finally reached the right station, anxiety mixed with excitement. Her friends had invited her to explore a city near Manchester, and she was determined to have fun. Even if it meant traveling a few hours away, discovering new places had been magical—except for the moments when she fell into the language trap, facing how fast people spoke in their daily lives.
And now, alone in unfamiliar streets, with no phone battery and no real physical map to guide her, her words of encouragement felt emptier than ever.
"Great, Sarah. Rule number one of studying abroad: always have a portable charger. Rule number two: learn how to follow directions properly before getting lost in another country."
She let out a frustrated sigh and looked around, searching for any visual clues that might help her remember the way to the bar/club where her friends were waiting. The cold wind made her eyes water, but it wasn’t just the weather making her uncomfortable. She should have arrived at least fifteen minutes ago, but with no GPS or easy way to contact them, all she could do was keep walking and try to recognize a familiar landmark.
That was when, while trying to decipher a street sign in English, she bumped into someone. A sudden impact, followed by a muffled sound as her bag nearly slipped from her shoulder.
"Oh, sorry!" she hurried to say, her accent immediately giving away that she wasn’t from around here.
"It’s alright," a male voice replied, light and relaxed.
Sarah quickly looked up, expecting to see some random stranger, probably just as lost as she was in this maze of streets.
But what she saw nearly knocked the breath out of her.
Jobe Bellingham.
He was right there. In front of her.
For a moment, the world seemed to slow down, like everything around her had suddenly faded into the background, leaving only that familiar face in front of her. Sarah felt her heart skip a beat, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over her. He looked even more real than in the photos—his confident smile, his piercing gaze.
Like she had somehow ended up inside one of the fanfics she’d read weeks ago. But instead of being the author imagining everything, she was actually living it.
"I can’t believe I’m living a fanfic in reverse," she thought, irony hitting her like a slap. The kind of absurd thought that normally would’ve made her laugh, but she couldn’t. Her throat felt too tight to say anything.
She stared at him, trying to mask her shock, but her brain was short-circuiting, struggling to process reality while his voice still echoed in her mind.
His dark, curious eyes were fixed on her, and for a second, the confusion was mutual. He clearly had no idea who she was, but Sarah knew exactly who he was. Or at least, who he was in the football world.
Jobe was wearing a brown suede jacket, left open just enough to reveal the white T-shirt underneath. The sleeves were slightly rolled up, giving him a casual but put-together look. Black track pants with blue stripes added a relaxed touch, contrasting with the more polished upper half. It was the kind of outfit that showed he cared about how he looked—but effortlessly. A perfect balance of style and comfort. His hair, slightly messy, still managed to look perfectly in place, adding to that laid-back charm. The streetlights cast a soft glow on his skin, highlighting his sharp features.
Sarah quickly looked away, embarrassment flooding her body, desperate to focus on anything other than the growing chaos in her mind.
No, breathe, Sarah. Calm down. He’s just a football player. Just… the younger brother of the famous one. No big deal.
Fuck.
But he’s hot. And tall.
"It’s really alright," he repeated, stepping slightly to the side as if to give her more space. His tone was casual, easygoing, but Sarah felt something else beneath it—something unspoken, an unexpected kind of pull. He didn’t feel like a famous football player or someone untouchable. Somehow, he felt… approachable. And that made the whole situation even weirder.
She shifted uncomfortably, taking a few steps back. The words were stuck on her tongue.
How was she supposed to react? Should she mention the fact that she’d read fanfics about him? That would be ridiculous, right?
She struggled to mask the rising panic, praying she didn’t come off as some crazy fan.
Jobe frowned slightly, his curiosity evident. Noticing her hesitation, he gave her a small, amused smile.
"You alright?"
Sarah forced herself to look at him. So calm, so... normal. As if he wasn’t the biggest football star she’d ever seen in real life. She tried to steady her voice, figuring out how to act.
"Oh, yeah! Of course!" She spoke too fast, trying to sound confident, but the weight of her accent made it clear—English wasn’t her first language.
I’m here, he’s here, and no one’s going to believe me if I ever tell this story.
He looked at her with a mix of confusion and curiosity, not immediately realizing who she was or why there was tension in the air.
"You alright?" he asked. "You look a bit... uh, all over the shop. Need a hand? ‘Cause I can sort you out."
The speed of his words made her brain freeze for a second. Sarah understood English, but different accents were still a challenge—especially when someone spoke fast and full of slang.
She hesitated, her mind scrambling for a response. Say something! Say anything!
"My phone… died. And I… kinda have no idea where I am," she admitted, gesturing with her hands, as if that would help explain.
Jobe raised an eyebrow, his eyes shining with something that could’ve been sympathy or just pure amusement.
"So… you’re lost."
"Not lost!" Sarah quickly corrected, motioning to the street around them. "Just... temporarily... misplaced," she added, forcing a nervous laugh.
He glanced around, like he was trying to get a read on the situation. The wind made her hair move, and she quickly fixed it, but she didn’t dare do anything else except wait.
"Right," he teased. "Where are you trying to go?"
Sarah frowned, trying to piece together the right sentence. I can’t say I was trying to get to a bar with my friends and now, somehow, I’m standing here talking to Jobe Bellingham...
She shook her head quickly, pushing the thought aside. Not the time for this.
"I… need to find… some friends," she tried, still mixing up her words. "But… not knowing the way."
Jobe raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by her effort.
"No problem," he said. "Tell me where it is, maybe I can help."
Sarah hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to come off like some desperate fan using this as an excuse to spend more time with him. But the truth was—she really did need help.
She sighed and, before handing him the note, mumbled, "This is weird."
Jobe frowned, amused. "What is?"
"Oh, no, not you!" Sarah rushed to clarify, gesturing nervously. "I mean, the situation! Me, lost, and then… you. Not that you're weird, I just—"
Jobe let out a laugh, crossing his arms. "Honestly, this just keeps getting better."
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a shy smile before reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper where she had written the address before leaving.
Jobe took the paper and glanced at it quickly, smiling when he saw what she had written.
"Oh, it's not far from here. I can take you there if you want."
Sarah’s eyes widened. She didn’t want to seem like an inconvenience, but considering that her only other option was asking random strangers and hoping to understand their directions…
"Are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to…"
"Yeah, I know. But I want to."
Jobe didn’t even have to think much before saying that. It was instinctive, almost unconscious—a simple desire to extend the conversation, to enjoy her company a little longer.
He observed her for a moment, in a way that didn’t reveal too much but still allowed him to take in every detail. She looked beautiful. Actually, she looked absolutely stunning. The black outfit created a striking contrast against her golden skin under the streetlights, and the leather skirt paired with high-heeled boots gave her an effortless confidence. The gold jewelry reflected tiny sparkles whenever she moved, drawing attention to her gestures, to the way her hands followed her words.
But it wasn’t just that. The way Sarah furrowed her brows while trying to find the right words, how she gestured a little more than necessary to make up for the lack of fluency—everything about her had a natural charm that intrigued him. Jobe realised he liked that. He liked the soft accent that slipped into her English, the honesty in her eyes when she tried to explain herself and got lost in the middle of it.
He just wasn’t the type to show that kind of thing. Never had been. And if Sarah paid attention, she’d figure that out soon enough.
"Oh, I don’t want to be a bother! I just—"
"I already told you, no worries," he interrupted with a shrug, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Jobe." He extended his hand to greet her.
"Sarah."
"So, Sarah…" His British accent saying her name made her feel like a teenager, but she played it cool. "Consider this my good deed for the day."
She laughed, relaxing a little.
"Alright, Mr. Good Deeds… I think that’s how you say it." Jobe chuckled, making her smile. "Lead the way."
He nodded, already starting to walk and motioning for her to follow. As they walked side by side along the cobbled streets, Sarah tried to focus on the conversation, but her mind was racing. What was she even doing? She was walking next to Jobe Bellingham. The Bellingham younger brother. If she told anyone, no one would believe her.
She tried not to look stupid or nervous, but the effect he had on her was undeniable.
The conversation flowed naturally—at least until Sarah stumbled over an expression he used and had to ask him to repeat it.
"Wait, what does proper dodgy mean?"
Jobe blinked, surprised, before laughing. "Means suspicious. Like, well sketchy."
"Oh, I see. Sketchy," she repeated, mentally memorising it.
"Wait, you don’t know English slang?"
"I’m learning," she admitted, a little embarrassed. "It’s harder when I need information and end up talking to someone young."
Jobe observed Sarah’s behaviour as they walked, dividing his attention between the road ahead and the woman beside him. Her glasses kept shifting from one hand to the other, a clear sign of her nerves. But Sarah did everything she could to hide it.
"I reckon I’ll have to teach you then."
"Much appreciated."
Sarah caught herself smiling at him. She was starting to relax, but a part of her was still on high alert. The cobbled streets were narrow and charming, but she was so focused on not tripping that she could barely appreciate the scenery.
"You’ve got a funny accent," he remarked, a mischievous smile highlighting his dimple.
SHIT.
Sarah looked at him, trying not to get flustered.
"I know, it’s… I’m trying to improve. If I had my phone, it’d be easier—I can use the translator."
"Nah. Don’t worry, I get you. And it’s cute!" He glanced at her with a grin, noticing how carefully she stepped to avoid getting her heels caught in the pavement. "Just don’t ask me to talk like you, yeah? That’d be, like… impossible."
She laughed, relieved that he wasn’t making fun of her struggles. But then he dropped another phrase she didn’t understand.
"That’s kinda like ‘dodgy’, right?" Sarah asked, frowning slightly.
"Exactly! Look at you, picking things up quick."
Sarah smiled, feeling a bit more confident, but then she stumbled over her words, struggling to keep up with his accent.
"I just… I need to get better. And you—you all…" she quickly corrected herself, "make me nervous sometimes. Everything sounds different to me."
Jobe noticed her frustration as she crossed her arms against herself, and without making a big deal of it, he shifted his coat closer to her when the cold wind cut through the air.
"If you want, you can take my coat," he offered with a gentle smile.
She hesitated for a moment, brushing her fingers over the fabric.
"Thanks, but I’m fine."
"So, you’d rather not look like a penguin, then," he teased, making her laugh.
As they walked side by side, Sarah found herself reflecting on the moment. Jobe was being so… approachable. She never imagined a famous footballer like him would be this easygoing, this… normal. He didn’t seem anything like the celebrities she saw on social media. He was just helping someone who was lost, like anyone else would.
But it confused her. What was he even doing here? Walking with her, so far removed from the world of flashing cameras and headlines? Was he just being polite, or was there something more? Was she reading too much into this?
She pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the walk, but the insecurity lingered. She was lost in Sunderland, struggling to understand Jobe’s English, frustrated with herself for not being fluent yet. It felt like all the challenges of her exchange trip were piling up, and now this—this strange interaction with someone she knew was famous. It was almost too much.
"Tell me more about yourself," Jobe asked, pulling her back into the conversation. "Where are you from?"
She hesitated. "I’m from Brazil."
"Oh, sick!" He smiled, as if that was an unexpectedly interesting fact. "And are you liking England so far?"
"Yeah, but it’s complicated," Sarah replied, laughing a little. "But I’m learning. Sometimes I get frustrated with English… some days it’s really hard to understand everything."
Jobe seemed to pick up on her struggle and quickly cracked a joke to lighten the mood. "Well, you’re doing better than me. I wouldn’t understand a bloody thing if I tried speaking Portuguese."
"Oh, you don’t know what you’re missing," she teased, a bit of pride in her tone.
"Your mates really chose Sunderland of all places to visit?" Jobe couldn’t hide his curiosity. He could if he wanted to, but Sarah was exactly his type. She caught his eye. The way her outfit hugged her curves made it impossible not to notice. It was like one of the girls from his Instagram had just stepped into real life, right in front of him.
She was definitely his type.
Sarah adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, hesitating for a second before answering. “In Manchester, actually. But I came here with some friends. We wanted to explore a bit.”
He raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “So you left Manchester to come to Sunderland?”
She laughed. “Yeah, sounds kind of random, right?”
“A little,” he admitted, crossing his arms. “Not that I’m complaining, but people usually pick Newcastle or a bigger city. Sunderland isn’t usually at the top of the list.”
Sarah shrugged, amused. “We wanted to watch a football match outside of London, and someone suggested here because of a Netflix series. And well… now we’re here, and I still got lost.”
Jobe chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, I’m glad you were lucky enough to bump into me.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Lucky? You almost ran me over.”
He placed a hand on his chest, feigning indignation. “Now I’m the villain of the story?”
“I don’t know,” Sarah replied, pretending to think. “You like running, right? Maybe you thought you were on the field.”
Jobe smiled, tilting his head slightly, as if assessing her response. “Funny one, aren’t you?”
Sarah just gave a small smile, trying to ignore the way he was looking at her, as if he was genuinely enjoying their conversation.
“But anyway,” he continued, “how long are you staying in Sunderland?”
“Just until Monday. Then I go back to Manchester.”
“Hmm,” he murmured, nodding slowly. “So you don’t have much time to get lost again.”
Sarah laughed. “Yeah, that’s why I need to find my friends soon.”
The conversation remained light until, turning a corner, Sarah tripped on a loose stone. Jobe immediately grabbed her arm, preventing her from falling.
“Whoa! Are you okay?” he asked, a concerned smile on his face, still holding her arm for a moment.
Sarah wanted to hide inside herself. If it were possible, a blush would have spread across her cheeks, but she tried not to show any nervousness. “Yes, all good. I just… seem to be uncoordinated.”
He laughed softly. “No big deal. But hey, if you need more English lessons or balance lessons, you know where to find me.”
Sarah looked at him, her heart beating a little faster, but feeling more at ease. He was being much kinder and more fun than she expected from someone like him.
“I thought it was closer,” Sarah admitted after feeling slight discomfort in her feet, but quickly backtracked. “I liked your company, okay? It’s just… my boots, t-they’re not great.”
Jobe laughed at Sarah’s nervousness, making her bite her lip.
“It’s all good!”
When they reached the corner where the bar/club was, Sarah saw her friends through the window, waving excitedly.
“Looks like your friends actually found a place!” Jobe commented, stopping beside her.
Sarah didn’t want to go. She had enjoyed talking to someone who had the patience for her language slips.
“But you still haven’t told me… How did you end up in Sunderland?”
He laughed, as if it was an interesting question. “Well, you know, football. The team brought me here. But I thought that since I’m in the UK, it wouldn’t be too hard. How long are you staying in Manchester?”
Sarah thought for a moment, trying to choose the right answer. She knew he was trying to learn more about her without being invasive, but it felt strange to talk to someone so far from her reality yet so close at the same time. “I’ll be here for a few months. I’m taking the opportunity to improve my English and… figure myself out a little.”
Jobe looked at her with a spark in his eyes, more curious than she expected. “And what exactly brought you to England?”
She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to explain about the exchange program. She didn’t want him to see her as someone lost, but she wasn’t lying.
“It’s a bit complicated, but I wanted to see more of the world… and improve my English.”
“I get it. Manchester isn’t exactly London, but it’s a good place to focus, and there’s plenty to do.” Jobe paused, and for a second, it seemed like he wanted to ask more, but he decided to change the subject. “So you’ll be there for a while.”
“Yes, I think it’ll be a good experience.”
As they neared the club, Sarah looked at him. It was strange. She had just met Jobe, but their conversation flowed so naturally that it felt like she had known him for much longer. She wanted to enjoy the moment, but at the same time, she didn’t know what to do with this whirlwind of feelings.
“Well, here we are,” she said, trying to hide her nervousness. “I… I’ll go in and see if my friends are here.”
Jobe looked at her, still with that charming smile. “I’ll wait here. No need to worry, I’m fine.”
But Sarah had a sudden idea. She hesitated before speaking. “You… don’t want to come in and enjoy a bit? If it’s not a bother, of course.”
Jobe looked at her with a curious expression, the smile still on his lips. “Are you inviting me to go into the club with you?”
“Hmm, yeah… If you want to,” she replied, feeling a bit nervous but eager to seize the moment.
Sarah couldn’t understand why she was so nervous. Okay. The language wasn’t her strong suit, so her mind kept jumping between translating or forming sentences with the correct verb tenses, but this felt different.
She felt like a teenager. And Jobe loved seeing how he could affect her.
“I’d love to,” he said, with a tone that made Sarah feel more comfortable, but then he shook his head with a half-guilty smile. “But I’ve got practice early tomorrow. If I go in now, I won’t leave for a while, and my coach would probably kill me.”
Sarah nodded, trying to hide the irrational sting of disappointment she felt. Of course, he couldn’t stay. He was a professional athlete, had a disciplined career. Unlike her, still figuring out what to do with her life.
“Oh, of course,” she said quickly. “That makes sense. Discipline and all.”
Jobe tilted his head, watching her as if he were trying to figure her out. “You seem disappointed,” he commented, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
Sarah laughed, crossing her arms. “Maybe just a little. But only because I wanted to see if you’d get lost trying to understand the conversations inside here.”
He let out a low laugh. “Hey, I’m English, remember? I have the advantage here.”
“Doesn’t mean anything. Depending on the accent and speed, I don’t understand Americans sometimes.”
Jobe smiled and shook his head, as if he was enjoying the conversation more than he should. Then, before the silence between them got awkward, he shoved his hands in his coat pockets and asked, “But tell me, where are you staying?”
“I don’t know,” Sarah answered without thinking too much. “I mean, I don’t know the hotel’s address. But it’s near the station. Maybe I’ll learn the name if I don’t go crazy trying to understand everything.”
He laughed. “I think you’ll be fine. But, just in case… you should give me your number. If you get lost again and need a translator.”
Sarah blinked, surprised.
Wait.
He was... asking for her number?
No, it must just be out of kindness. Or he says that to everyone. Or maybe he was just making sure she wouldn’t have to stop any more strangers on the street.
But why did she feel that flutter in her stomach?
She opened her mouth to respond, but hesitated. The truth was...
“I don’t know my number,” she confessed, laughing nervously. “I mean, it’s a new SIM card, and I haven’t memorized it yet.”
Jobe raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Okay, then just text me and we’re good.”
“My phone’s dead, remember?”
He let out a short laugh. “That’s true. So you’re completely unreachable?”
Sarah made a face. “Basically.”
“Rough, huh?” Jobe joked, shaking his head but not seeming bothered. “Do you at least have Instagram?”
“I do,” she answered, and before she could hesitate, grabbed his phone when he handed it over and typed in her username.
When she handed it back, Jobe looked at the screen and gave her a sideways smile. “Nice. Now you have no excuse if you get lost again.”
She laughed, but inside she doubted he would actually remember to follow her later. He probably knew thousands of people all the time. It was just a polite gesture.
“Alright, I’ll head off,” he said, taking a step back. “It was fun saving your night.”
Sarah rolled her eyes with a smile. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Maybe a little,” he admitted, winking at her. “But let me know if you need more English lessons.”
And with that, he turned and started walking away, while Sarah was still trying to process everything.
She walked into the bar, feeling a mix of excitement and disbelief. Why was she reacting like this? Just because Jobe Bellingham had been nice to her?
She mentally scolded herself. He was younger. And a famous athlete. What the hell was she thinking?
dividers by @cafekitsune
pictures from pinterest and ig
faceclaim: @/amaka.ae on ig!
nothing i have to say is appropriate
i personally would never make fun of a kid that still believes in santa claus, there are grown adults that still believe jon moxley is gonna come back to the wwe as dean ambrose like he’s not having the time of his life leading his bdsm cult
BUT SHE NEEDS HER PENIS TO GET THE OTHER DEATH RIDERS PREGNANT
Christian Cage is so anti-father, and he heard Danny calling Marina Daddy, so he killed her penis :(

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The assignment was heavily understood.

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