JOBE BELLINGHAM- DIGI CAM PT.2 ⋆˙⟡
Synopsis .☘︎ ݁˖-you just wanted one picture with Jobe Bellingham during your family vacation. No big deal. Just a cute memory to look back on. One viral post later, and your life is turned upside down you definitely didn't expect the entire internet to think you're a couple. Now the picture is everywhere,and a certain Birmingham boy found it and from that moment led to another unforgettable memory.
Genre .☘︎ ݁˖- Fluff/ family fluff, and a bit of rom com vibes, Fem!reader
Warnings .☘︎ ݁˖- none..at-least not yet
Twenty-four hours. That's how long it had been since you were officially sure that Jobe had found your account. That he'd most likely even gone through your highlights. That he'd most likely even seen your cringe pictures from two years ago, the ones with the dodgy filters to be exact, and the embarrassing captions that made you physically recoil now. If you'd only known this was going to happen, you would've redone your whole account and make it more professional. More alluring. Giving him a first impression that screamed "mysterious and cool" instead of "average girl who went through a phase in 2024." But maybe the unexpected authenticity made this whole story even better between you both. Maybe the fact that he'd seen the real you—unfiltered, unpolished, just existing was what made this feel so different. So genuine.
You were scrolling through your own account, trying to imagine what his perspective would've been like viewing you. What did he see? What did he think? Was he laughing at your old posts? Did he find them endearing? You were so deep in your own head that you almost missed it. A message popped up over your screen.
"I'm seeing this picture everywhere, even mom sent it lol"
You rubbed your eyes, assuming you were seeing things. You blinked hard, then blinked again. You spelled out the letters of the username slowly, your lips moving silently as you read them.
"This has to be a joke," you whispered, your voice barely audible. You stared at the screen, your heart starting doing that stupid thing again when you saw him at the beach. And then you saw it.
The blue verification sign next to his username.
"THIS IS NO WAY THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING TO ME," you shrieked, your voice pitching into a register you didn't even know you could reach. "THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO WAY." Your hands started to tremble immediately. Your phone almost slipped from your grip as you scrambled to sit up straighter, your eyes glued to the message.
He messaged me. JOBE BELLINGHAM messaged ME??.
You spent the first five minutes before answering his message hyperventilating, your thoughts spiralling into an absolute frenzy:
" Wait, I can't mess this up.""Absolutely nobody can know about him messaging me.""Is this a test?""I wonder if he's testing me to see if I'll screenshot and post that he DM'd me?""What if this is some elaborate prank?""What if he's just being polite?""What if—"
Your head was basically spinning with too many thoughts. It could explode any moment now.
You shouted at yourself internally, pausing mid-pace around your room. You'd been pacing back and forth like a caged animal, your carpet probably worn down from the sheer nervous energy radiating off you. "Okay, okay, I will," you replied to yourself, almost as if someone else was in the room. Anyone who'd overheard your little crash-out session would've thought you'd lost your mind completely. You sat down on the edge of your bed, phone clutched in both hands, staring at his message like it held the secrets to the universe. What do I even say to that? you wondered, your brain scrambling for options.
"Haha yes, the internet is so obsessed with us!"
Ew. That sounds too fame-crazy. Like you're desperate for attention.
Uhh, maybe that's a bit too soon? But you actually would love to know though. The curiosity was eating you alive.
"I know right? I'm still trying to process everything."
That one felt right. Honest. Relatable.
You pressed send immediately before your brain had the chance to overanalyse it for another five minutes.
There. You did it. You replied back to him.
You flopped yourself backward onto your bed, letting out a long, shaky sigh. Your phone lay on your chest, screen facing up, just waiting to see what he would say. Would he even reply? a nagging voice whispered. What if that's it? What if that's all he wanted to say and now he's done? You pushed the thought away, refusing to let it dampen your mood.
"It would be so cool if this ends up being the start of us becoming friends," you said aloud, your voice honest and soft. "At least."
You meant it. You'd settle for anything between you and Jobe, knowing deep down your heart obviously desired more. You'd always had a lot of interest in him, not just as a footballer, but as a person. You admired his profession, sure, but it was him that drew you in. The way he carried himself with such quiet confidence. The way he handled being in the shadow of his older brother, knowing the strain it could cause on his mental health. The way he had the courage to pursue the same career as Jude, even knowing he'd constantly be compared. Even knowing the media would have a field day with it. Yet he was always so positive. So bubbly. So unfazed by all the noise. You admired that the most about him. That resilience. That refusal to let anyone dim his light.
Your phone went off. You snatched it up so fast you almost dropped it again.
"it came out really nicely, I liked how I looked in it" he said. Definitely trying to be cocky.
You couldn't help the playful grin that spread across your face. You typed back quickly, your fingers flying across the screen:
"You weren't the only one in the picture though"
You watched the screen, your heart pounding. Three dots appeared. Then it disappeared. Then it appeared again.
He was typing. Then stopping. Then typing again.
Almost like he was contemplating something. Almost like he was choosing his words carefully.
Then the message came through.
"ain't say you didn't look good too, y/n"
You read it once. Twice. Three times.
"He said MY name," you squeaked, your voice cracking. "AND HE BASICALLY SAID I LOOKED GOOD."
"IS THIS FLIRTING?!" you screamed into your pillow, your legs kicking wildly beneath you. You were blushing like crazy, your cheeks flaming red, your heart doing backflips in your chest. Even if this was just a one-time thing, you were making sure to enjoy every moment of it. Every second. Every word.
"Much better 😌" you replied back, trying to play it cool despite the fact that you were literally kicking your feet like a lovesick teenager.
Shortly after, you added, "oh also did Momma Bellingham say anything about it? I'm curious "
You held your breath, waiting for his response. The three dots appeared again, and you felt your heart skip a beat.
The three dots disappeared. Then it appeared again. Then disappeared once more.
It took nearly two minutes for his reply to come through, and you spent every second of it chewing on your bottom lip, your nerves stretched thin. Finally, a message arrived.
It was an attachment. A screenshot, at that.
You tapped on it, your heart in your throat. The image loaded slowly, and then you found yourself staring at a conversation between Jobe and Denise. It felt so surreal and personal that this whole moment was even happening. You were casually about to read a conversation between Jobe and his mum as you texted. No big deal. Just something casual, right? Two days ago, you wouldn't even believe yourself if you'd heard this had happened to you.
Reading the messages, you saw Denise had sent him the picture of you and Jobe. Right below it, she'd written:
"I had a feeling this was going to happen with this picture "
Below that, Jobe had replied:
"yeah I saw it""but I don't think it's a big deal""as long as people aren't saying bad things about it, it's fine"
Then Denise's final message:
"She seems nice from what I remembered. But you know how I feel about these things being attached to your name in the media.""Just be careful, Jobe."
You came out of the screenshot. Your smile faltered slightly after reading that last line.
You had a moment of silence with yourself but not for a bad reason. It was more like reality crashing down on you. It was only right that Denise was very protective. Of course she was cautious. Jobe wasn't just some random footballer; he was her son. And with fame came vultures. People who wanted his money. Girls who wanted to be attached to his name. Girls who wanted to use him for clout.
You could see it clearly now. The wall he probably had built around himself. The constant questioning of people's true intentions towards him. The wariness that came with being in the public eye. You weren't offended. If anything, you respected it. Denise was looking out for her boy, and that was exactly what a good mother should do.You typed out your response carefully, trying to acknowledge what you'd seen without making it weird:
"I saw what your mom said at the end there 😅 She's just looking out for you though. That's really sweet."
His reply came faster than you expected:
"yeah she's proper strict about that kinda stuff tbh"
You could almost hear the hesitation in his typed words. Like he was testing you. Seeing how you'd react.
"I get it honestly, you know. You can't be too careful with all the attention you get. It must be exhausting having to second-guess everyone's intentions."
You sent it before you could overthink it because you knew you'd spend ten minutes pacing around your room before you'd reply otherwise. Your response was honest and genuine. It was exactly how you felt.
The three dots appeared. Then:
"you get it?" he replied.
"Yeah... well, I mean I'm not famous or anything lol, but I get that people probably approach you for all the wrong reasons at times. So it must make it hard to trust anyone new."
A long pause. Then he finally responded:
It was very few words, but you could feel the weight behind it. How many times had he been let down? How many times had someone pretended to care just to get close to his lifestyle?
"Well, for what it's worth... I just think you're a cool person. The footballer thing is a bonus 😌"
You sent it, then immediately felt your cheeks heating up. The conversation was flowing so effortlessly that it almost slipped your mind that it was Jobe you were talking to.
"proper buzzing now innit" he replied, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice.
You laughed out loud. Buzzing? He said buzzing. Gosh, you loved the way he typed.
"So you're out here just normally sharing screenshots of your mum's messages with strangers?"you teased, just wanting to be playful.
"Nah, just the ones who watch all my games apparently" he replied.
Your heart did a flip. He remembered you saying that on the beach.
"Look who's got a good memory" you teased back.
"I can't forget that day" he said.
And it genuinely felt serious. Like he meant what he said, and he wasn't just trying to be nice.
After spending almost the whole night texting one another, the conversation eventually came to an end naturally. He hearted your last message, saying nothing else after, and you immediately knew it was best to end here.
Tonight was already enough. Already special.
Getting to talk to him like a friend felt amazing. It felt great going to sleep knowing that you'd made him laugh a couple of times. That you'd been genuine. That you hadn't messed it up.
You placed your phone on your nightstand, a soft smile lingering on your face as you drifted off.
Back at Jobe's place, he was in his kitchen alone this whole time texting you. He'd originally come downstairs to grab a snack and had somehow ended up spending a whole two hours leaning against the kitchen counter, entertained through every moment, not wanting it to end.
"Been a while since I've had such a fun conversation like this," he thought to himself. "Much less meeting someone new that felt so genuine."
He'd had to cut the conversation short with you because he knew he'd spend the whole night texting you, and he couldn't afford to mess up his perfect routine—the one he'd gotten so used to.
He sat for a moment in silence, eating at the kitchen table. Soaking in everything about his current life.
Mum's back with Jude away in Spain. Dad's gone for yet another "business-related trip." And I'm just here in Germany. All alone. As usual.
Jobe thought about it more. The only time he really met new people was at work. On the field. He didn't party, spend his money badly, or hang out every weekend with random girls. He was just either home or on the field.
It felt kinda isolated now that he thought about it.
He thought back on your words again: "Must be exhausting having to second-guess everyone's intentions."
He laughed at himself in pity.
"Huh. If that wasn't the case, maybe I wouldn't be all alone right about now."
"I'd probably be out, innit."
The atmosphere shifted. This wasn't the first time Jobe had a moment like this with himself while all of his family was away. It tended to hit him harder. But he always woke up the next day trying to be the best version of himself. "I'm not even hungry anymore," Jobe said aloud to the empty kitchen, getting up from the kitchen chair to head to bed.
Ending the night quietly, but with a lot of thoughts on his mind.
It had been a while since you'd last talked to Jobe. The conversation you'd shared that night was potentially the first and last. Sure, you wanted more from this. You'd thought it was going to lead to something more. But you had to remember after all, you were still just a stranger to him. And he kinda was to you too. Even though you knew a lot about him, it was just what the media shared. Not personally him.
But something kept you curious.
He never seemed to stop viewing your stories. Ever since you'd both texted each other, he always watched whatever you would post. He didn't follow you back,obviously, to not cause any more controversy or dating rumours, especially since that picture had stirred up enough already. But he was always stalking. Always the first name to pop up in your views.
You'd test it sometimes. Post something random at odd hours like a picture of your breakfast, a mirror selfie, a snippet of a song you were listening to. And without fail, within minutes, his name would appear in the views.
Jobe Bellingham viewed your story.
He didn't even try to hide it anymore.
There was no reason for him to do such a thing. Yet he always did. You weren't sure if it was supposed to be a signal of some sort. A way of saying "I'm still thinking about you." Or maybe it meant nothing at all. Maybe he just scrolled through his feed mindlessly like everyone else, and your stories happened to pop up. But every time you saw his name, your heart would do that stupid little flip. And you'd spend the next ten minutes overanalysing what it could possibly mean. Whatever it was, it was confusing.
And what was even more nerve-wracking? The game.
The match was coming up in just a week from now.
You'd started worrying about everything. Getting your hair done. Finding the perfect outfit. Getting a jersey with Jobe's name and player number on it, literally anything to go all out. After all, it was your first football match in person. And your second time getting to see Jobe again. And to be honest? You kinda cared about that more than the match itself.
You'd spent the last few days obsessing over the smallest details. What if he saw you in the crowd? What if he waved? What if he didn't even notice you were there? What if you embarrassed yourself somehow?
Your cousins had been no help at all.
"You're going to look so cute, he won't be able to keep his eyes off you," Mia had said, practically shaking with excitement.
"Just don't trip walking up the stairs to your seat, and you'll be fine," Leah had added with a wicked grin.
"Very helpful, thank you... Leah," you'd replied dryly, shooting her a look.
But the truth was, you were terrified. And excited. And nervous. And hopeful. All at once.
You'd even bought the jersey online, specifically with his name and number on the back. When it arrived, you'd held it up, staring at the letters printed across the fabric.
It felt so real now You were really going to see him again.
Back in Germany, Jobe was trying his hardest not to think about you.
He'd found himself checking your story more times than he'd like to admit. It had become a habit at this point,one he wasn't sure how to break. Or if he even wanted to break it. You posted something? He watched it. You posted nothing? He checked anyway, just in case. It was ridiculous. He knew it was ridiculous. He was a professional footballer with a rigorous training schedule, and here he was, refreshing your profile like a yearning boy.
There was something about you that he couldn't quite forget. The way you'd spoken to him on the beach. The way you'd said you watched all his games like it was the most natural thing in the world. The way you'd understood—like genuinely understood—why he was so cautious with people. he'd even thought you were going to post your conversation with him everywhere. That's what most people would've done, right? Screenshot the messages, post them online, brag about getting his attention. But you hadn't pushed. You hadn't asked for anything. You'd done nothing after.
And he hadn't stopped thinking about you since. You treated him like a normal person.
While Jobe was hanging out with his friends playing FIFA at home, his phone was beside him on the sofa. It buzzed, and he glanced at it instinctively. A notification. You'd just added a story to your account.
He stared at the screen for a moment, not wanting to put down the controller so suddenly in the middle of the game.
Don't watch it. Don't be weird. Give it a rest.
But not too long after, he placed the controller aside, picked his phone up, turned the brightness down, and watched it.
It was a picture of you holding up a jersey. His jersey. With his name and number on the back. Your face was partially hidden behind the fabric, but he could see your smile just from your eyes. That bright, pretty smile that had been burned into his memory since the
day at the beach. His heart did something strange. A feeling he almost rarely got. You were coming to his game. And it finally clicked to him again. You were going to be in the crowd. Wearing his name. He quickly exited the app, locking his phone and side-eyeing his surroundings immediately. His ears were red. And of course, Carney caught it once again.
"You aite?" Carney asked, one eyebrow raised in suspicion.
"Fine," Jobe said quickly. "Just fine."
Carney didn't look convinced this time. "You did that same thing before, man."
"What thing?" Jobe scoffed, but the heat in his ears only intensified.
"Is there something you're not telling me, mate?" Carney said, grinning now. "You've been on your phone so much recently. It's weird... like you barely use that thing."
Jobe's body language shifted to an awkward, tense position. He tried laughing it off. "You taking a piss? Bro, I always use my phone. What you mean?"
Carney just looked at him for a while and shook his head with a little sigh. "Hiding things from me now?"
Jobe sucked his teeth before picking up his controller. "I swear, I swear I'm really not."
He then added once again, trying to redirect the conversation. "The game's been passed for too long now."
A while after, Jobe went upstairs to use the bathroom.
He washed his face and stared at himself in the mirror for a while, running his hand through his curls, letting out a frustrated sigh.
He'd met hundreds of people outside his close friends and family. Thousands, probably. Fans, teammates, acquaintances. But yet, none of them had made him feel this way. None of them made him overthink this much. Why were you making him feel nervous all of a sudden, knowing that you were coming to his game? Wearing his name on your back as well. And why was a part of him so excited to finally see you again
The day before the match, you took your flight, leaving your hometown to fly to Germany to meet with your aunt. You'd be staying at her place for one week before heading back home after the match to spend time with her as well. Her house was twenty minutes away from where the game would be played and about a good ten minutes from Borussia Dortmund's training ground. Everything was pretty convenient.
Arriving at your Aunt Ida's place at the late hours of the night from the airport, you settled in quickly and caught up with her, reminiscing about all the old memories you'd shared with each other. She’s Mia's mother, but Mia had moved out last year to attend one of her dream colleges away from home. Since then, Aunt Ida had been in this house here alone. After chatting, she showed you to Mia's old room—the one you'd be staying in for the next week.
"I haven't came in here since Mia left," Aunt Ida admitted when you both walked in with your suitcases.
"I can tell. It feels untouched," you said softly, looking around at the room frozen in time.
Aunt Ida watched around for a moment, like she was reliving all her moments in here with Mia. You could tell she missed Mia's company around a lot. That's probably why she'd rarely ever been at home, to avoid herself from thinking about her.
"Well... here it is!" she said, her voice brightening again. "I hope you make yourself comfy. I'll be upstairs if you need anything."
"Thanks, Aunty," you said, giving her a warm hug.
After she departed, you finished unpacking, showered, and put on your comfy sleeping clothes. Standing in front of Mia's full-body length mirror, you snapped a picture to share on your social media. You added a simple caption—just a little heart—and tagged the location.
You weren't really thinking much of it. Just wanted to document your arrival.
But after that picture with Jobe, you'd gained a lot of followers that were fans of his. Some followed because of how pretty you were. And some followed because they were convinced you were his secret girlfriend. What you didn't realise was that you were just so happened to be close to the alleged residential area Jobe was speculated to have an apartment at. Everything was starting to feel like it was written in the stars at this point. You didn't even know you were adding more fuel to the dating theories between you both. Much less known about him living so close.
That night, alone in his apartment, Jobe like always, once again found himself scrolling through your profile. He'd basically memorised it by now. He memorized that outfit you wore at that one family gathering you had. He knew your favourite aesthetic. He had a solid idea of what your humour was now. And he still didn't know you. Not really.
He viewed your story. First, admiring the picture of you—your figure, your smile, the way you looked so comfortable and at ease. You were so effortlessly pretty, and it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn't used to. And then he saw the location tag in the corner.
His eyes widened. His stomach dropped.
She's literally five minutes away from me right now.
It hit him again, but harder this time. He was seeing you tomorrow.
His nerves got the best of him. He opened the chat. The last message was from that night—the one he'd hearted, the one he'd left on read because he knew if he kept talking, he would never stop. His thumb hovered over the keyboard.
He closed the app, tossing his phone onto the bed.
He smiled despite himself. A soft, genuine smile that he couldn't quite hide.
"It’s getting serious now," he whispered to the empty room.
"I gotta give it my all tomorrow."
And you felt constant butterflies in your stomach as you thought about seeing Jobe in person again. You stood in front of the mirror, the jersey perfectly fitted, your hair exactly how you wanted it, and your nerves absolutely through the roof. You looked good. You knew you looked good.
You took a deep breath, grabbing your bag as you headed out the door, your aunt being the driver. The car ride was a blur of nervous chatter and Aunty Ida's reassuring smiles. She'd been to plenty of matches before—she knew the drill. "You'll have a wonderful time, schatz," she said in her soft German-accented English. "Just enjoy the moment."
Easier said than done, you thought, your leg bouncing with nervous energy.
Arriving at the stadium, you found your assigned seat and walked through the crowd. The stadium was electric and loud today for the match against Borussia Dortmund and FC Bayern. You saw the banners and the big gathering of fans in red and yellow in front of your eyes and not over a screen this time. Everything felt so surreal. You couldn't believe you were actually here, witnessing your first match.
Your seat was about four rows behind the front row seats. Not too bad—the view was still pretty nice. But oh, how you wished you were in the front so maybe, just maybe, he would look in your section and see you cheering him on. You weren't sure how he was going to see you, but you hoped maybe he would.
It was still special to see him play, at least.
You recorded moments on your phone to send to your friends and family back home before the match started. The atmosphere was building, the chants growing louder, the anticipation palpable in the air. Finally, the stadium commentator announced that the match was about to start.
"Get ready for your players!"
They all came out one by one, holding the hands of the children alongside them. Your eyes scanned the line, searching for that familiar face. And then—
Jobe walked out with a young boy holding his hand, his expression focused but soft. He looked so different from the guy you'd met on the beach. Here, he was in his element. Professional. Commanding. handsome.
The camera panned to each player, and you tried to hide your smile as you watched Jobe on the big screen.
"Ugh, I missed that face," you admitted under your breath, trying not to let the couple beside you hear your words.
The match started, and the crowd which was already cheering prior to that—got louder now. Your eyes were all over the pitch, tracking the ball. You shouted along with others:
"How is that not a foul?" you yelled, pulling onto the shirts of random strangers beside you who did the same. "Did you see that? He's trying to get a free kick!"
The atmosphere was like no other. You could get used to this, you thought to yourself as you watched along, completely immersed in the action. There was a moment when the camera that showed fans on the big screen panned to you. It stayed for a while. Your visuals were pretty and distracting, the jersey, your hair, the way your eyes were fixed on the pitch with such intensity.
You were too busy looking at the players on the field—that being Jobe—that you missed it entirely.
A guy beside you tapped your shoulder right as the camera went off you. "YOU'RE ON THE SCREEN!" he shouted over the noise. You leaned into him, frowning. "Huh?". "You missed it already! But I said the camera was on you!" he shouted down your ear once more.
"Oh? What the heck, really?" It caught you by complete surprise.
Your cheeks flushed as you realised thousands of people had just seen your face on that massive screen. You glanced around self-consciously, but the crowd was already moving on, their attention back on the pitch. While being on the pitch, waiting for the ball to come his way, Jobe looked up momentarily. And he caught it.
Your face. Just as it left the screen.
His adrenaline grew even more. Just by seeing your pretty face for a second made him look down on the grass, swishing it with his shoes all of a sudden. No way he got nervous from just that.
He saw where the cameraman had panned to, so now he had an idea of the section you were at. Even if he didn't see your face himself anymore, he knew you were there. Watching him. The ball got passed to him, and he was back in focus mode.
Running to the penalty area, about to take the ball from his opponent, Jobe got smacked by a foot, causing him to fall. The referee blew his whistle immediately.
The crowd went wild. If they potentially got this penalty, the score would be 2-1 and they could potentially win. The referee viewed the VAR and came back onto the field. "After review, number 12 tripped number 7. The final decision is a penalty."
The Borussia Dortmund fans cheered in excitement including you.
And to your surprise, Jobe was taking the penalty. At that time, a photographer was passing around, taking shots of fans in the crowd. Once again, you weren't really paying him much mind since it looked like he was just passing by. You held your hands together against your face, creating a praying sign with watery eyes as you looked on.like that one Bella Hadid picture.
"Please make this shot. Please make it," you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. It caught the photographer's attention. It looked so captivating, so cinematic to him. He stood up, angling his lens to focus on you solely.
He took the shot and passed along, saying under his breath: "Beautiful." Jobe took a deep breath and prepared himself to strike, analysing the goalkeeper's movements, hoping his prediction would be right.
"One... two... three," he mentally counted.
The stadium went dead silent for a moment. All watching, some hoping for it to go in. Some hoped for it to not.
He scored. He actually did it.
You screamed and cheered, hugging those close by you. The energy was infectious, the joy overwhelming. Your eyes were watery for a completely different reason now. Jobe ran off from the area where he'd scored his goal and towards the section he'd seen the camera man pan to earlier—where your face had appeared on the big screen.
He did a heart shape sign with his fingers as he watched the fans. Your view was being blocked by the people in front of you. You were sure he probably didn't see you. That heart was probably for those girls in the front. You frowned at the thought. "This was the perfect moment for him to see me, and he didn't," you muttered. "Why did I have to be so far behind?" Jobe went back to the field, celebrating with his teammates before going back to play again.
Then, soon after, before you knew it, the final whistle blew. The match was up. Borussia Dortmund vs FC Bayern: 2-1. The stadium slowly started to empty while the players and players soon left. Some stars were doing interviews, others were in the locker room packing things up and celebrating. You lingered around, walking slower than usual as you left the stadium, hoping that you would somehow see him somewhere. Probably interacting with fans. But nothing. Not a single sight of him anywhere. Your heart sank a little. Maybe this was it. Maybe that was all it was ever going to be. As you were about to make a call for your aunt to come get you, your phone buzzed.
And finally, after all this time, it was him:
You'd never answered a message so quickly in your life.
"Yes I am, I was just planning to leave."
He responded back even faster:
"you got 5 minutes to spare, yeah?"
You smiled at the message like it was a dream come through. At last, you were finally getting to see him up close before you headed home.
"Where the interviews are taking place, can you walk there? And keep going straight down the corridor. I'm outside standing."
Your heart beating fast in your chest as you read his next message:
"I've got something for ya ;)"
You frowned your face in suspicion. Part of you was excited right now, and part of you was curious.
"I'm walking right now," you typed, moving on over to the area he'd directed you towards.
You walked slowly, passing players doing interviews that also watched you with wandering eyes as you made your way through the corridor. Some security even watched you with suspicion but didn't approach you or say anything. You clearly looked like you weren't supposed to be there, yet they let you pass by. You weren't sure why, though. As you kept walking, you saw him.
That familiar build. That height. That face.
He was standing near a door, wearing a black long-sleeved compressed shirt, shorts, slides, and his jersey,the one he'd played with today,in his hand. His hair was slightly damp from the match, a few curls falling across his forehead.
He looked beyond handsome.
You tried your best to hold back your smile.
And he wasn't afraid of hiding his, in that moment. It was bright and charming, reaching his eyes in a way that made your stomach flip completely.
"Y/N!!" he dragged in an excited tone. Your name sounded quite familiar to his tongue. "Jobeee," you did in return, your voice coming out softer than you'd intended. And for a moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood there, looking at each other, both smiling like idiots. The tension was thick. Electric. Perfect. He handed you his shirt before he could even say anything.
"Since it's your first match, I wanted to make it special."
You took it, your hands shaking a little as you held it up, watching it from side to side. And then you noticed his signature on it as well—scrawled across the fabric in permanent marker. "I hate to be cheesy, but..." you admitted, looking up at him. "I don't think I'll ever forget this moment." Your genuine smile made him smile even more. His eyes crinkled at the corners in that way you'd memorised from the beach.
It was pure silence for a moment, mostly of him admiring you admiring his shirt. You finally broke it.
"How'd you feel scoring that goal out there?" Your tone was soft as you asked.
He chuckled first before he answered. "Don't even get me started, mate. I think that might've been my favourite goal this season. It's a miracle how that went in, honestly—"
He started going on and on, just like that moment at the beach. You watched his whole outburst in amazement, even laughing at some moments. And just like that, the 'just a fan and celebrity' status started to drift away between you both. You had him laughing, and he had you laughing. You both leaned against the wall, talking about everything that took place on the field today. He even admitted:
"You know I did my little victory dance by your section because I saw that you were there. Well... not saw you exactly, but the camera man that put you on the big screen—I watched the section he did it at."
You pushed his shoulder with a little teasing smile. "Bro, some guy told me about that big screen thing. I can't believe I missed that!" You sighed dramatically. "I was too busy worrying about you, mate."
He laughed. "Me? What did I do?"
This. A moment like this was something Jobe had always been longing for. And him finally experiencing it had his emotions all over the place.
"I don't want this moment to come to an end," he thought, his smile soft as he looked down at you ranting away. "When will I see her again?" "How long will I have to wait for something like this again?" Thoughts flooded through his mind as he watched you, completely captivated. Your phone rang off.
"Oop, sorry—um my aunt's calling," you said, stepping aside to take it.
He listened silently as you spoke back to her.
"Mhmm, yep, okay... yeah, I'll be out there... yes, I swear I'm on my way."
He knew you were about to leave. And he didn't want to admit it, neither to you nor to himself that he didn't want you to go. You pushed your phone back into your pocket slowly.
"Well..." you said, your tone nervous and sad all at once. "I've got to go now."
"What a bummer," he said, stretching his arms out to pull you in for a hug. You went in for it before your brain could even analyse what was happening fully."Yeah….I know," you sighed, sinking into his buff arms. His biceps covered half your face. Mid-way into the hug, it clicked to you. Your eyes widened, and you naturally gripped onto him tighter.
"Holy crap, I'm hugging him," your brain malfunctioned at that moment.
But you didn't let go. Neither did he. And it was like he didn't want to. Your body heat against his was warm. You felt so soft around him he thought. It was only silence for a moment between you both just savouring the last few seconds. Your phone dinged off, ruining the moment.
"That's probably my aunt again," you said, your mouth slightly muffled by his arms covering you. He laughed before hesitantly pulling away. "Let's not get you in any more trouble now." You let go, holding his shirt close as you waved him goodbye before walking off.He watched you all the way until you weren't in sight anymore.
On your way back home, you ranted to your aunt about everything that happened today and the game...well almost everything. You made sure not to mention going to meet him. She was fully convinced you got the shirt from him by throwing it into the crowd. It would've been harder to explain how you got it the real way anyway—since you didn't want anyone to know he'd texted you.You got back home in Mia's room, telling your cousins about the game today and sending them the pictures and videos you took.
And Jobe was getting frustrated.
He was so eager to see you again that he thought of the most dumbest idea he could possibly think of. One where if his parents only found out about even the thought of this—it would be 100% be over for him. He needed to not get caught at all if this plan was to unfold.
That plan was bringing you over to his place.
No secret cameras. No people around. Just you two.
It was dumb, and he knew it. Not dumb because of you, but because he barely knew you truly and it was such a risky move to make. This was one thing his parents, his mother especially, would be against. But his feelings—he wasn't even sure what to call this feeling whatever it was, it was getting the best of him. All he knew was that he wanted to see you again. Even for just five minutes.
In the middle of an ongoing call with your cousins as you brushed your teeth, a message came in.
It was Jobe. In the middle of you explaining how the penalty goal went down, you went dead silent.
"The call is breaking up, girl."
"I didn't hear the last part," said Leah. Mia agreed: "Yeah, it went silent."
You stared at the screen.
You didn't know what to say at that moment because you wanted to scream in excitement and tell them Jobe had just asked if you were awake. But they didn't even know you guys had continued to talk after the picture with him to begin with, and you usually told each other everything.
"Guys..." you started. "I'll have to call you back. Uh... mum's trying to get onto me. Hold on."
You hung up before they could respond. You were fully convinced Jobe was about to ask to call you, so you did up your hair quickly and put on cuter sleeping wear than usual. Sitting on the chair at Mia's study table near her lamp, you responded:
"Hey, yeah I am. What's up?"
"Can I ask you something stupid?"
You laughed at yourself. "Ha, I was right—he is about to call me."
"Can you leave your house?"
The air went thin. Your face felt hollow.
"What?" you responded back, extremely confused.
He turned disappearing messages on, saying:
"I want to see you. But you've got to promise you won't try to record or take pictures of anything. You can't... like seriously."
"I believe you're staying 5 minutes away from where I stay."
"All I need to know is if you can leave your house this late?"
He said one after the other.
You read everything with fear and excitement building up in your system. It was 10:45pm. Aunt Ida was in bed, but you needed to leave the house quietly and most definitely be back before sunrise heck, before 12 if you were being honest. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The minute you got back home, this wasn't going to happen again. And his next game wouldn't be in Germany.
"Do it.""No, don't do it."
Your mind was spiralling.
You sent him your location not giving it a second thought.
"Tell me when you're close, and please be quiet when you're pulling up."
He hearted your message immediately. You could tell he was just as nervous as you were, waiting for the final message:
"And here I thought him giving me his shirt today couldn't be topped," you whispered to yourself, scrambling around your room. "What did I do in my past to be this lucky?" "What do you mean I'm now about to HANGOUT with JOBE?" You scrambled around your room, looking for the perfect outfit. Tonight had to be a special one. You threw open Mia's wardrobe, pulling out options. Too fancy? Too casual? What do you even wear when a footballer is picking you up in the middle of the night?
Finally you found the perfect outfit after rambling through anything you could wear. You checked your reflection in the mirror, heart pounding.
Your stomach dropped. Your hands trembled as you grabbed the house keys, your phone, and your jacket. You tiptoed through the dark house, every creak of the floorboards making you freeze. The front door clicked open, and you slipped out into the cool night air.
Jobe was leaning against a sleek black luxurious car, his hands in his pockets, a nervous but excited smile on his face. He'd changed into something more casual, a full all black hoodie and sweats combo with his hood over his head yet he still looked like he'd just stepped off a magazine cover.
"You actually came outside," he said, his voice soft with disbelief.
"You actually asked to see me," you replied, equally in disbelief.
He opened the passenger door for you, and you slid in, the leather seat cool against your skin. He got in on the driver's side, turning to look at you with those dark eyes that made your heart flutter.
"So..." he started, his accent thick with nerves. "What do you wanna do?"
You laughed, the tension breaking. "You're the one who asked me to come out here. You tell me." He grinned, that charming, boyish grin that gave you instant butterflies. "Alright then. Let's just... drive for a bit? Talk?"
"Perfect," you said softly.
And as the car pulled away from the curb, you couldn't help but think that this right here, right now was the beginning of something you never saw coming.
What have I gotten myself into?
But for the first time, you didn't care. You were just excited to find out
Taglist☘︎ ݁˖- @chaestwbryz @bellinghambabe @minaflowerss @graygracee @chelseaxjay @fluffybnuny @googieluv @luckycharmzzz @4ngelest @kurumitt @viberator111 @blingblingseal @ikeuusstuff @bellinghammmily @corydorrys @bellinghamslutt @smzyyx @rubleoy @crazy4lyricb
Author note.☘︎ ݁˖- thank you so much for the overwhelming support and love i’ve received for my first ever fanfic on here it still feels surreal to me, I hope you enjoyed this one just as much as the first and I’m planning on making this story a series🤍
