oh how the stars

💌 . . . after more than two (?) years of contemplating, i have officially decided to close this account PERMANENTLY!

writing for my favorite football players—or writing for anything truly, had become a tedious task for me. as much as it saddens me to lose my spark in writing, i have greatly cherished the friendship and the milestones i have come to attain in this account and therefore have decided to leave my written works posted! i hope to find my joy and passion for writing as i have in this time of my life, but for now this chapter will be closed.

thank you to everyone from my past, and to you reading in the future. thank you for becoming a part of this community, one that inspired me a great deal to write and to push my imagination past the boundaries of which i never knew i was capable of even pursuing.

sincerely and very truly yours,

lily ♡ (02/14/2026)

With Jude

secret relationship prompt list!

Everyone knows that newly married couples should be given their time to bask in the profound elevation of their relationship and the attention that comes with it. Do not rain on their parade is basically what it is.

So when you're stuck in a situation where you're convinced that you've just found the greatest love of your life in the midst of that scene, what would you do?

“We’re still keeping this a secret?”

You shoot Jude a pleading look, flashing a golden smile when one of your cousin's (the soon to be married one) friends passed by. You wrap an arm around his bicep, curling your hands over the hard muscles before dragging him out of the house to the garden where it was much more peaceful than the mess that was inside.

“I’ve literally just convinced you to be my girlfriend four weeks ago... my family—our family’s been wantin’ this longer.” Jude reasons out, exasperated breath leaving him as he leans against tree bark where you're seated on the bench beside him. “Can’t do that darling, I really can’t.”

“But Camilla's getting married tomorrow and we really shouldn't be spoiling the attention that's supposed to be on them.”

He scoffs at your response, crossing his arms against his chest before pushing himself off the tree and instead crouches down in front of you—proper lad of him instead of sitting down on the empty space beside you really.

He takes your hand, nearly huffing out seeing you roam your eyes around the place as if afraid of being caught.

“Tell me that when you're not tempted to ruin her day just as much as I do and I’ll do it.”

You are. You certainly are. For someone who grew up with you, Camilla wasn't the best cousin to hang around with. She's easy roused with jealousy by the little things she feels like should be hers when it's given to you explicitly. She used to pull your hair when she was fifteen and you were twelve for wearing the vintage Chanel Camellia hair clips your Grandmother has gifted you. She once ruined one of your dress during Jobe’s 17th birthday because you were getting way too compliments for sewing the dress on your own. She also superglued your football trading cards when you were in first year of college because when you hurt a girl, you should hurt her through her most prized possessions, not physically nor verbally. Mental and emotional pain could be worst than those two combined.

So really, you should clap a thunderstorm on her parade but because you're so much better of a person that the rest of her, you've simply stayed put and ignored the snarky remarks and the pointed looks being thrown your way from her.

You grab one of Jude’s hands, cupping his cheek with the other before leaning down to kiss him in the corner of his lips.

“I would love to do that too but I’m not wretched like she is and you know that.”

Jude grumbles before nodding his head, burying your face on your lap as he very much reluctantly agrees to your terms of hiding the relationship just until the wedding bells are reduced to nothing but silence and the awful cousin finally moves away.

“How much longer do we have to keep this up?”

You kiss the back of his head, caressing his cheek on your palm.

“Just a few more weeks, I swear.”

God knows how her fiancé could tolerate your cousin, better yet what went through his mind to actually think that making her a permanent fixture in his life was the good choice.

The loathsome cousin was finally moving away in the next two days.

It was two weeks post wedding when one last intimate party was planned the very last minute before Camilla was to be shipped off.

It was just a small gathering bearing your family, the fiancé’s family and some family friends.

Growing up being good neighbors with the Bellingham's of course they too were to be invited. But unfortunately for you Jude’s been away for a game for the last three days and there's a possibility that he might even miss this one. Good for him. He's really the one holding you sane amidst the unpleasant faux amicable relations between you and your obnoxious cousin during the wedding and the prior events before that.

As expected, hiding the relationship from your family's prying eyes was a difficult feat to achieve. Knowing that even your Nana whose vision you know was already impaired was still keen on shooting you teasing smiles when Jude stood just a little bit closer to your body, hand lingering on your shoulders or back, how much more for the family members who actually has a better eye sight than your 82 year old Granny?

Stirring the spoon in your cup mindlessly with nonchalance as the copious chatter flowed through the air, you were distracted when the door to the backyard opened once more before your Uncle who fetched a few more alcoholic drinks from the store down the road emerged with a familiar tall figure following after him; both of them carrying boxes filled with various tonics.

“Jude! How was the game son?” Your Dad stands up to greet the oldest Bellingham son, patting the boy on the back before Jude greets his own parents who were situated in the seat opposite of your parents’.

“Was good, racked three points in the board.” He replies before greeting everyone else in the table with slight conversations about the game.

You don't say anything to him for a few minutes but you do smile at him when he moves to stand behind your chair, kissing your cheeks like it's the normal thing in the world that you both do—it wasn’t. So the odd, teasing looks from yours and his family was warranted.

“Do you guys have something to tell us?” Your Aunt Kathy asks, amusement dancing in her eyes before her gaze drops down to your palm over Jude’s cheek.

from this prompt list !!

If you could bury someone with your gaze alone, the girl would most likely be deep 10 feet underground (10 instead of 6 for the extra precaution that you decided is a necessary step to take).

It didn't help the fact that the friends on your table thought they'd make a great pair—like the commonly known pairing of a football star and a girl with an instagram worthy face. It also irked you to know that one of yours and Pedri's friends actually invited her to the dinner because she was apparently a fan and was heavily crushing on your boyfriend. Secret boyfriend.

Now, the relationship wasn't fairly recent but it was new. 6 months of sneaking in and out of the others house, secret hand holdings underneath the dinner table, longing looks being sent to one another and pretending that every touch that was a minute longer than normal was all because you've your “bestfriend”.

Both you and Pedri know that being together, romantically linked, is not an issue. They can be as supportive as they can get but it was the heavy media presence looming over your boyfriend’s shoulders that kept you both from going public. And also because the secretive aspect of the relationship was thrilling, high-inducing. Pedri himself agrees.

“She’s dresses nice and she's pretty—she’ll make a wonderful partner to Pedri.”

You snap back to reality, gaze moving from Pedri and the girl before drilling holes in one of your friend’s comment.

“I didn't know your reason for dating was so shallow Marc.” The words left your lips before you could even take a second to wonder if saying anything was gonna do you any good. Too late though.

Marc leans on his seat, shrugging with a shit-eating grin on his face. “It’s not. But let’s be real hermosa, with Pedri’s lifestyle it will be difficult for him to look for a girl that will actually care past his looks, his money and fame.”

“Well how'd you know that he's not dating anybody?” You challenge, keeping your voice and face neutral.

Your other friends shot you both looks before tuning the conversation to focus more on what current social trend was on, their next vacation destinations and the latest gossip in the Spanish circle.

“I don’t, and I’m not about to assume anything... unless you know something?” He grins, sipping at his glass of margarita.

You ignore him after that, but not before rolling your eyes and focusing on the white linen table cloth in front of you—finding it more worthy of being looked at. But not even two minutes later and your gaze finds its way back to the bar a few feet away where your boyfriend and the girl was at.

Your left eye nearly twitches when you see her place a perfectly manicured hand on Pedri’s bicep, throwing her head backwards when he says something to her before shifting even closer.

Secret relationship was fun. Until it wasn't. And your hand is really itching to wrap itself around something and with your current state, you deduce that that girl's neck would be a perfect candidate. But you still have those papers that needed to be turned in for Thursday, murder shouldn't be the first thing in your mind right now because the consequences won't give you a boost for your GPA. So with a solemn sigh, you fish out your phone and began browsing through the small rectangular device.

—

“Is that documentary really entertaining than your own friends?”

You hear him before you could even see him fast approaching the table. He sits beside you, adjusting his seat and pulling it closer to where you sat with a teasing grin.

“Are you not having fun love?” He mumbles next.

You don’t close your phone off but you do glance at him, and past his shoulders seeing the girl still at the bar, leaning at the countertop and now nursing a cup of something whilst having her gaze trained on Pedri’s back. Then she meets your eyes before she diverts her gaze elsewhere.

“It’s not fun to watch you being hit on.”

Pedri's eyes almost sparkles in mirth hearing you grumble underneath your breath, pursing his lips to keep himself from smiling before he stands up, tapping your back.

“We’ll head out first guys. I still have training early morning tomorrow so I need all the rest I can get tonight.” Pedri begins to collect your stuff just when another friend of yours asks.

“But why are you taking (Y/N/N) with you? We haven't even gotten drunk yet!”

Pedri hands you his jacket and your bag and answers your inebriated friend who obviously already got too much to drink.

“Because I drove her here so I’m her appointed driver.”

“But that's unfair!”

You round your chair, shrugging Pedri's jacket on before slinging your bag over your shoulders. “I also need to finish a few school papers that's due on Thursday. I’ll make it up to you guys though!”

Though mildly disappointed of you and Pedri’s early departure, your group of friends merely orders another round of drinks as you and you boyfriend left the restaurant.

Pedri immediately wraps an arm around your waist, walking you over to the passenger’s side and opening the door for you. He doesn't close the door immediately, instead, leans down to plant a kiss on your forehead before walking to the driver's seat and you both began your drive to his house.

“Just so you know, I have no interest in the girl.” Pedri comments in the middle of the ride, and you snort because ironically, that's how you called her too; the girl.

You lean your head against the window, partially facing your handsome designated driver of the night.

“Oh yeah? Marc said you'd make a great couple.”

You watch the confusion in his face, it stays there for a few seconds before he's reaching a hand over the console to grab yours.

“Marc is an idiot. Marc always says the most idiotic things. And Marc knows about us, hermosa.” He glances at you with a sheepish smile. “I might have accidentally broke the news to him during our night out last week when this one guy was hitting on you at the club.”

“Oh...”

Well, that explains the shit-eating grin you wanted to rub off his face a while ago.

Pedri’s fingers was rubbing circles against your skin, a habit he's formed when he's thinking about something before he vocalizes them out in the air. And he does exactly just that a few seconds later.

Jamal doesn't wake up very easily. If he does, then it's probably because of either of the following reasons; one, a bad dream. Two, too much noise. Three, he's gotten a bit too cold laying on his bed alone. This time, it was all because of the latter.

Four months of being accommodated by your own body heat made it rather easy for Jamal to have a good night's rest, cuddled up to your chest and your arms wrapped around him. It's one of the many things including you that he would look forward to after a day spent training in grueling hours, his body aching with fatigue and need for rest.

He's already gotten so used to you and your warmth that hugs him up comfortably in every sleep, so when he felt the side of your bed being a little bit cold to his liking this morning, he slowly opens his bleary eyes to the sight of the sheets crumpled beside him; you, nowhere to be found.

Jamal lays on the bed for a few minutes, staring blankly at the ceiling above him listening to faint sound of the pans clinking in the kitchen where he knows you'll be. He doesn't get up either, finding the cool room air too much for his newly awoken state and rather, he pulled the duvet further up to his chin.

He doesn't have any idea how many minutes have passed, but the door to the room opens silently and the pattering of your footsteps reached his ears before he even sees you in the frame.

“It's early in the morning, why are you up? You're training doesn't start until 1pm, right?” You sit beside him on the bed, hand reaching down to comb through his curls as you spoke softly.

Jamal nods his head, closing his eyes before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back on the bed with him, now with your back against his chest. Kissing the back of your head, he mumbles.

But you savor every moments with him, be it in your waking ones or those that are happening deep in your sleep. You raise your head, eyes meeting his in a silent conversation that you've had a plenty of times before.

I need to go.

Stay. I love you, stay.

You knit your brows, a sigh pushing past your lips as you bury your face deep in his chest, peppering soft kisses on his left peck.

He shrugs the blanket off of him as he stood up from the living room couch, sleepily walking towards where the music seems to come from; the kitchen.

He was expecting for the room to be in a state of a disarray, dishes, pots scattered everywhere in a mess in his sleepy stupor. But the soft light paired with rendered version of the song Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez became a cosy backdrop for you and his older brother underneath the warm kitchen lights.

Jobe stops himself from entering the room any further because despite the sleep that he masks with tired blinking eyes, he was still conscious enough to keep himself from disrupting the comfortable embrace you shared with Jude as his older brother slowly swayed your bodies side to side, in tune to the soft melody that flowed in the air.

You're tucked underneath Jude’s chin, eyes closed, one arm around his back and the other holding onto the nape of his neck. His brother was wrapped in your sweet little bubble just like yourself. With his eyes closed, Jude holds you closer to him by the waist; almost fearing the thought of you being a tad bit away from him. He's got both of his hands on your back, the softest of smiles on both of your faces.

Jobe didn't need to think twice about leaving you to your peaceful slow dance. He wipes a finger underneath his eyes as he throws one last glance to the two of you, genuine happiness wrapping him in a tight secure hug that his older brother was happy and comfortable, and that you, someone who looked after him like an older sister he never had being loved tremendously as you truly deserve.

Jobe wasn't normally a very emotional person, but seeing the love both you and his brother have for one another be so genuine and filled with an abundance of contentment and peace made him a subject to such emotions.

A few feet away from his former spot, Harry, Ben and Jack stood in front of youㅡguarding you from the guy who thought it was a good idea to force himself to an uninterested you.

You had simply excused yourself from your best friend’s table a while ago to have your drink refilled, but ten minutes passed by and you were yet still to come back. Your absence for that long already triggered something in Jude, a hunch if you will. So when he walked up to the bar and saw you trapped between a guy, inebriated and one whose hands can't be kept to himself, with one look from your uncomfortable face had made Jude jump to your rescue, pushing the guy away from you as hard as he can.

But then when things started escalating and red painted his vision, he was dragged away by his other teammates as the other three came up to look after you.

His knuckles were already battered and bruising, lips busted and another growing bruise on his left cheek. He can taste the blood inside his mouth but Jude has left more damage to the other guy, and truthfully, he's fucking proud of fucking his face up. He shouldn't have cornered you, touched you, spoke such disgusting things to you because regardless if it was any other girl being molested for simply existing, he would've still probably done the same thing. The difference is, you're his girl (you don't know that yet but the club thinks so and Jude definitely aims to have you so what difference does it really make), and no one should fuck around with you especially when he's there with raised fists ready to land a punch to any bastards who rightfully deserves a clock to the jaw.

Jude grabs you by the wrist, nearly catching you off guard but his grip on you is gentle before he pulls you beside him, bidding a silent goodbye to the rest as they watch you both walk away, leaving Kane yet again to fix another squabble that Jude started. It's the third time this month, the gaffer won't be happy with him and there will be some serious punishments for his actions. He's already dreading it but he'll do it again if needed.

The both of you made it back to your car. Jude opens the door for you, helping you settle down your seat and when he's moving to close the door, you hold onto it keeping it open before taking his hand towards you.

“You shouldn't have done that...” You mumble, eyes trailing to his bruising knuckles and to the one's that his face is currently sporting underneath the artificial light. “Southgate’s definitely not gonna be happy with you about this.”

Jude sighs, taking his hand off your before cupping the side of your left cheek.

“I've done a lot of things I shouldn't have but this...? This is one of the things I feel no regret for.” He runs the back of his fingers over your skin, murmuring the words with such a soft conviction that he himself wasn't sure came from his own voice. “I can deal with the consequences of this, but I’ll never ever let you be disrespected in some kind of way... not on my watch, you hear me?”

You close your eyes, nodding your head as you lean closer to his touch.

“Mhm...”

Jude chuckles, bringing one of your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

Jude is not a jealous man by any means. A little bit possessive maybe, but not jealous. Never jealous.

He is sure of himself more so the attention that people give himㅡgirls, especially girls.

So why was the simple sight of you laughing and goofing around Gio as you both talked a couple of feet away from where he's seated bothered him too much for him to focus on the beautiful girl beside him?

Why was the mere sight of your infectious laugh, the adorable crinkle of your eyes produced by Gio’s stories made him wanna interrupt your conversation, tuck you underneath his arms before dragging you and back to his home, away from the possibility of you making any sort of romantic connection with his American friend?

Why was the sight of your hand on Gio's shoulder bothered him so much to the point that his breath hitched on his throat, a grim look falling over his face as he glared at your soft touch on his friend, brows furrowed and shoulders tense.

Jude recalls all the time you've done the same to him. You do tend to lightly slap or touch the other person you're talking with especially when they say something to amuse youㅡit wasn't easy to amuse you. So why the hell, of all people were you so giggly and happy to be in the presence of Gio Reyna than your own bestfriend?

A light feathery touch crept up against his arm, Jude looks over to his side and spots the girl whom he found interesting upon entering the club. Now, not so much anymore. Not when you have this invisible tight grip on him that Jude can't explain.

“Are you okay?” Cecelia asks him, concern straining her face.

Jude glances over to your side, just coincidentally meeting your eyes over Gio’s shoulder before you flash him a smileㅡa smile so simple, so dazzling that had him reeling back to his seat, the pounding of his chest and the warmth that blossomed in his tummy an unmistakable sensation that made everything he's been pondering over brew into the answer that he's been looking for.