#dortmund

five months had passed since y/n had first turned up at the stadium, portfolio in one hand, and camera in the other.

she’d been at every match since, capturing the players post-match celebrations, their victory poses, candid shots mid-game.

her ‘office’ was a small room tucked in the corner of the building, a desk with a computer, and a chair.

her eyes scanned across the screen, moving the mouse to click across various snaps she’d taken of jobe in the match earlier.

it wasn’t the first time y/n had caught herself staring, her cursor hovering over the picture for a second longer than the others.

he was mid-run, weaving the ball past the opposing players in a way that made her heart speed up watching it live.

being the team photographer, she’d developed a close bond with all the players but there was something…different about jobe.

y/n could’ve sworn she’d felt him staring a few too many times when she was photographing matches.

and she was almost a hundred percent sure he’d make sure to run past her whenever he scored, so she could capture his wide grin.

“y/n?” 

the sound of her name made her gaze dart up, quickly closing off of the picture, almost suspiciously fast.

luckily for her, the staff member standing by the door to her office didn’t think anything of it, a coffee in one hand, leaning against the oak.

“yeah?” y/n swallowed, clearing her throat, looming over the top of her computer.

“we’ve finished up in the media room,” he said, “you all good to lock up?”

y/n nodded, her gaze darting down to the time in the bottom right of her screen. 23:16. it was later than she thought.

“cheers,” he nodded, turning to leave as y/n looked at the rest of the photos she still had to process - forty eight.

the number was almost annoyingly high as she sighed. she couldn’t stay too late at the office either, she’d have to finish the rest back at the hotel.

with a sigh, she pulled her usb from the side of the computer, gently placing her camera into its case. she pocketed the little stick, collecting the polaroids she’d taken into her hand.

the hotel was a short walk - five minutes - from the place as y/n twisted her key into the lock of the front door.

the crisp, cool air blew gently on her face as she buried her hands into her pockets, the yellow light of the hotel lobby shining through the glass doors.

the warmth greeted her as she stepped inside, smiling to the receptionist, holding up her key to show she already had a room.

the woman nodded, returning her smile.

the elevator hummed as it carried her three flights up, a little ‘ding’ signalling she was on her floor as the doors opened.

she hummed lightly under her breath as she sorter through the polaroids, pausing at one of them.

jobe, in his practise bib, dribbling past one of the defenders, a look of concentration on his face.

and, well, he looked good.

y/n hadn’t even realised she’d stopped walking, her finger hovering over the little photo.

“Is that me?” 

she gasped, the pictures almost tumbling out of her hands at the voice as her head shot up.

of all the people she wanted to see in that moment, jobe was the last one.

well, he did look kinda good.

he had a plain black t-shirt on, and grey joggers that hung low on his hips, face shining from his shower. he smelt good too, the same cologne he always wore.

“uh…” y/n looked down to the polaroid in her hand, “yeah,”

“good shot,” he took it gently from her hand, examining it closely. it was hard to ignore how close he was to her.

“you’re good at scoring,” y/n said, adjusting the strap of her camera on one shoulder as jobe looked down, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

“thanks,” he buried his hands into his pockets, “but i meant your camera work,”

ah. shit. 

“oh right,” she said, shaking her head, “thanks,”

“y’came back late,” jobe commented, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, “they keep you in that office all night?”

“no,” y/n laughed, “had a few more photos to process. gonna finish the rest in my room,” 

his face lit up.

“yeah? you could finish it in my room,” he shrugged, “i have a laptop. and besides, wanna see how that works,” he nodded to the camera.

y/n opened her mouth, any excuse she had dying on her tongue as he flashed her his typical, bright smile,

“alright,”

she followed him quietly to his room, a few away from hers, as he pressed his keycard to the handle.

why had he even been walking down the corridors?

y/n pushed the question to the back of her mind as he pushed the door open, holding it out for her.

it looked pretty much the same as hers, the tv playing on low volume, his bed a little crumpled from being laid on, and his phone plugged in on his bedside table.

“make yourself at home,” he pulled his laptop from his bag, placing it on the edge of his bed for her as she nodded.

“cheers,” jobe smiled, accepting the camera case gently, laying it out on the duvet as y/n opened the laptop screen.

“just be careful with the lens,” she said as he unzipped the case, flipping the lid.

he hummed, lifting it gently.

“yes ma’am,” he muttered, half serious, half joking, “like a girl who knows what she’s on about,”

y/n swallowed, thankful for once in her life that she had her back to him, so he couldn’t see the way her face burned at the compliment.

“pinch and twist,” she made a motion in the air, looking over her shoulder, directing him how to take the cap off the lens.

jobe did what she said as y/n pushed the usb into the port on the side of the laptop.

“y/n,” he held the camera up to his eye, “smile,”

she turned, the flash exploding from the lens before she even had a second to register what he was doing.

“jobe, no- delete that!” she groaned as he pulled the camera down, a wide grin on his face.

it was a half-candid shot, her lips parted slightly, eyes wide, mid gasp.

“y’look pretty,” he held the camera up again as y/n shrieked, holding a hand to cover her face.

“stop being a dick!” y/n whined as he pulled her hand down, snapping another picture, and grinning down at it like he’d taken the photo of the century.

“let me work or i’m going back to my room,” she huffed, opening the file of her usb.

“sorry,” jobe said, camera still in his hands as he moved down the bed, watching over her shoulder.

y/n swallowed as he rested his chin on her, watching her scroll through the photos.

they’d never been this close before.

“which ones your favourite?” 

“of you?” y/n asked, her mouse hovering over each photo as she scrolled through the hundreds she’d taken that day.

“any,” he hummed, voice softer in her ear as she moved down through the pictures, her heart thumping faster in her chest.

“this one,” y/n said, stopping on one of jobe, the ball against his right foot, about to be kicked into the goal.

“you’ve got a lot of me,” he commented, a smile filling his face as she looked down to the keyboard, and then back to the screen.

“you’re around the camera the most,” 

“yeah, maybe i am,” he moved back, so his lips brushing against her neck for a split second.

y/n shivered, her breath catching in her throat at the contact.

“show me how to take good photos,” jobe picked up the camera again, “i wanna learn,”

all hesitation melted from her mind as he leaned forwards again, lips dragging down the side of her neck, “got a real pretty muse too,”

“jobe, this isn’t a good idea-,”

“shhh. who’s gonna know?” he hummed against her neck, sucking gently against her pulse point as she gasped, unconsciously tilting her head to the side to give him better access.

the nod of her head was all jobe needed, placing the camera down on the side and pushing himself off the bed.

y/n watched with baited breath as he took the laptop from her lap, placing it on the side.

his breath was hot as he leaned down, lips pressing to hers, pulling her into his arms, her legs wrapped round his waist.

it felt like fire, where his fingertips brushed the skin of her thighs, his tongue pushing between her lips.

y/n moaned into his mouth as he pulled her down, jumping her against his growing bulge, becoming more and more obvious in the material of his thin joggers.

“jobe,” she whined into his mouth, the cool metal of his chain under her hand as she dragged her fingers down his chest.

he kept one hand on her thigh, the other coming to her face to pull her closer, fingers grazing her jaw.

jobe only pulled away when y/n needed air, his lips working overtime along her neck.

“so pretty,” he mumbled into her, voice almost raspy.

he lowered her down onto the mattress, making quick work of pulling her sweater off over her head.

y/n could feel her face heat up as he moved back, groaning at the sight beneath him.

before she could say anything, he leaned over her, grabbing the camera from the side.

“jobe,” y/n’s arms instinctively came over her chest, not because she didn’t want him to take the photo, because god, she did.

it was more that she’d never really been in a situation like that. she felt vulnerable.

“its just for my eyes, okay?” jobe leaned down as y/n thought over his words. then, she nodded.

“okay,”

jobe was gentle with her, pulling her arms softly from her chest, the black lace of her bra cupping her breasts perfectly.

he moved back, holding the camera to his eye as he’d seen y/n do countless times, a flash blooming from the lens as he snapped the photo.

“fuckin’ hell,” he groaned, staring down at the little screen on the camera, a mini version of the sight before him, as he leaned down, pressing a hot kiss to the top of her breast.

“need you s’bad,” y/n whined, a sudden boost of confidence surging into her as she pushed herself to sit up, her hands coming to the waistband of his joggers.

jobe’s hand came to her cheek immediately, cupping her face.

god she looked so pretty, eyes blown wide with need, lips swollen from his own.

“do it,” he nodded, camera still in his shaking hand as she pulled the material down past his thighs, letting it pool round his ankles.

jobe was already semi-hard, a low groan escaping his lips as she wrapped her hands round his base, leaning forwards to press a kiss to his tip.

his dick twitched in her hand at that as y/n looked up at him through her lashes.

jobe raised the camera to his eye again, snapping the hottest picture he’d ever seen, as y/n wrapped her lips round his tip.

“that’s it, pretty,” he cupped her cheek again, feeling where his dick bulged against her, “nice an’ slow,”

y/n did what he said, swirling her tongue round his throbbing tip before pushing more of him into her mouth, bobbing her head slow, up and down.

“so big…” she whispered, tongue gliding from his shaft, right to his tip, tracing the vein on the underside of his dick, looking up at him through her lashes.

his hand reached down her back, unclipping the little hooks of her bra as he groaned, letting it fall away from her body.

“so fuckin’ beautiful,” one of his hand’s came to the back of her head, fingers splayed across her hair, the other cupping one of her breasts, “need t’fuck you,”

y/n nodded, pulling him out of her mouth with a wet pop as jobe lifted his arms, tearing his shirt off with surprising ease.

“hands and knees,” jobe said, voice low as y/n did what he said.

“jobe, mm, fuck,” she moaned as he stood behind her, leading forwards to press hot kisses down her back.

his hands came to her waist, undoing the zipper on her skirt and letting it fall, hooking his fingers under the waistband of her panties.

“let me take care of you, beautiful,” jobe moved his hands between her thighs, her core burning with need.

“fuck,” y/n moaned, her eyes fluttering shut as his fingers spread her lips apart.

“so wet, this all f’me?” he hummed, voice low as he collected her arousal on the tip of his finger, “or you this wet from lookin’ at the other guys?”

y/n shook her head, a shiver going through her as his finger ghosted over her clit.

“you,” she whined, “j-just you,”

“yeah?” jobe pressed down on her clit, “me? all this is just f’me?”

y/n nodded again, desperate. “all f’you,”

“good,” he hummed, standing behind her as he took himself in his hand.

jobe pumped himself slowly, spreading her salvia from his tip down to his shaft, running his tip between her pussy lips.

“jobe, please, put it in,” 

he did exactly that, pushing his tip against her hole as she moaned.

he was thick and long, stretching her pussy out round him. 

“shit,” y/n gasped, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes at the stretch, it felt like he was splitting her in half.

“you can take it, baby,” he leaned down, arm wrapping round her neck so her chin rested in the crook of his elbow, “just relax, alright?”

jobe’s other hand reached forwards, rubbing sloppy circles into her clit as she moaned again, her pussy loosening round him.

he kept going til he bottomed out inside of her, his dick twitching inside of her.

“jobe,” y/n whined, pushing her hips back against him as he fumbled for the camera beside her, moving back.

“just one more picture, alright?”

the sound of the flash going off echoed in the room again, before he dropped the camera beside her, wrapping his arm round her neck again.

her back arched into him, lips parted. 

jobe’s chest was hot against her back as he leaned forwards, his breath quick.

y/n felt the air from her throat pause as he squeezed, pulling almost all the way out, before burying back inside of her.

“ah- fuck,” jobe groaned, sinking back into her warmth as she moaned, the sound tight from him choking her.

he repeated it again, sinking back into her before he started a steady rhythm, rocking his hips back and forth.

“fuck, jobe, feels s’full,” she gasped, eyes fluttering closed.

“i know baby, you can take it,”

y/n pushed herself back into him, his hips snapping into her ass with every harsh thrust as she whined, his name falling from her lips like a prayer.

“that’s it, pretty, just like that,” jobe swallowed, his other hand on her waist, squeezing at the soft flesh.

he slammed into her, his thrusts deep and long, letting her gasp for air as he let go of her neck.

jobe’s rhythm never faltered, his tip slamming against her cervix, filling her up again and again.

“fuck- yes, yes, yes-,” y/n gasped, his hips snapping against her ass.

“‘s alright,” he said immediately as y/n gasped, eyes wide when he pulled out.

jobe’s hand came to her waist, guiding her to lay on her back before he pushed back in, filling her up once more.

y/n moaned, head pushed back into the duvet as he did, eyes closed.

“y’feel so good, pretty,” he moved back, angling his hips so he could push deeper into her, “so fuckin’ good,”

“‘m so close,” y/n gasped, his fingers tight on her waist, almost bruising.

at her words, he let go immediately, keeping his rhythm snappy as he fumbled for the camera.

“i know, pretty,” jobe groaned, voice low, “come apart f’me,” he held the camera to his eye again, shaky as he plunged in and out of her.

“jobe, ah- fuck!” 

one more thrust and a loud moan from y/n, and she finished, her toes curled, back arched into him as she moaned his name like a prayer.

flash.

the camera snapped the sight before him, her eyes screwed shut in pleasure, his dick buried to the hilt inside of her, her lips parted and glossy.

“gorgeous girl,” he dropped it back down, pushing harder against her.

jobe wasn’t far behind, his hips snapping into her, more sloppy as he kept going.

he fucked her through her orgasm, fingers back on her waist as he got closer.

“gonna cum, pretty girl, ‘m so close,” he moaned, words slurred and choppy as his hips stuttered against her, thick, hot cum filling her sweet pussy as she moaned, eyes closed.

he stayed inside of her for a split second, his dick twitching in her warmth before he moved back, gently inching out of her.

y/n whimpered, her body sore from the ordeal, eyes fluttering open.

“y’okay?” jobe stepped back, giving her space as she nodded, shaky.

“water,” he poured her a glass, letting her sit up as he held it to her lips, “just a small sip, that’s it,” he watched her take a few drops into her mouth.

“‘m okay, jobe,” y/n swallowed, nodding.

god, that was insane.

“you sure?”

“positive,” 

he nodded, once he was satisfied with her answer, moving the camera onto the side, not before catching a glimpse of the last photo.

what a sight.

y/n stayed laid on the bed as he returned with a towel, having cleaned himself up, and then her, wiping the remnants of their activities from her sensitive pussy.

“thanks,” she mumbled, heartbeat returning to a normal pace.

“‘course. got a few t-shirts if you want any,” he nodded to his cupboard.

y/n nodded, moving to stand up as he returned to the bathroom with his own clothes.

she stayed sat on the edge of the bed when he returned, a small smile on her face.

“you gonna stay the night?”

“if you want,” she chewed on her lip, unsure if she was overstepping. but jobe, he just smiled.

“i’d like that,”

that was how the two of them ended up asleep, tangled in each other’s arms, the tv still on in the background.

jobe had a leg between hers, one arm thrown over her waist. y/n had nothing beneath her shirt, which ended mid thigh, her ass peaking over whenever she wriggled.

their chests rose and fell in harmony, her cheek pressed against him.

it wasn’t until 10am that y/n awoke, realising firstly, that she was late to work, and secondly?

all the photos on her camera uploaded straight to the dortmund photo folder.

“jobe, wake up! give me your laptop!!”

“wha- huh?!”

“give it!”

select tags here

got a bit of a love-hate relationship with this one :(

The fluorescent lights of Heathrow at 4 AM were entirely unforgiving, but somehow, Jobe still looked effortlessly perfect.

He was standing right behind you in the security line, dressed in loose grey sweatpants and a massive black hoodie with the hood pulled up to hide from any early-morning paparazzi. You were practically drowning in your own oversized matching set a hoodie you had definitely stolen from his closet months ago.

You yawned, swaying a little on your feet, and without missing a beat, Jobe stepped closer. His chest pressed flush against your back, and he dropped his chin onto the top of your head. The height gap between you two was almost comical; at 6’3”, he towered over you, making it incredibly easy for him to use you as a human armrest.

“Tired?” his voice was a low, morning-rough rumble that vibrated against your spine.

“Exhausted,” you mumbled, leaning your weight back into him. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, locking you against him. It was a casual gesture. You were best friends. You had been doing this for years. But as a group of girls a few lanes over started whispering and pointing at the famous midfielder holding a girl in his arms, you felt a sudden, hyper-aware flush of heat pool in your stomach.

Everyone always assumed you were together. How could they not? The way he looked at you, the way he constantly needed to be touching you a hand on your lower back, his knee pressed against yours under tables. It was an unspoken thing between you two, a heavy, suffocating tension that had been building for months.

Once you boarded the flight to Italy, the first class cabin offered a bubble of privacy. You curled up in your seat, immediately resting your head on his shoulder. Jobe shifted, pulling the plush blanket over both of you, his large hand finding yours under the fabric. His long fingers intertwined with yours, his thumb lazily stroking your knuckles.

As you drifted off to sleep, Jobe stayed awake. He looked down at your face, the soft rhythm of your breathing, and it hit him like a physical blow to the chest. He didn’t just love you as a best friend. He was in love with you. He had been for a long time, but sitting here, taking you to Italy just because he wanted you all to himself for two weeks… the realization was absolute. He was entirely, hopelessly gone for you.

The Amalfi Coast was blindingly beautiful, all pastel houses stacked on cliffs and endless sparkling blue water. The villa Jobe had rented was secluded, wrapped in lemon trees with a massive balcony overlooking the sea.

By your third day, the tension between you was thick enough to cut with a knife.

The tiny, candlelit trattoria tucked into the cliffs of the Amalfi Coast was supposed to be just another dinner. You were sitting across from Jobe, the warm Italian breeze gently catching the fabric of your outfit a flowy, white linen two piece with a tiered maxi skirt and a matching off the shoulder top that left a sliver of your waist bare.

You were laughing at something stupid he’d just said, the kind of deep, comfortable laugh you only ever had with him, when the older Italian waiter approached your table to drop off the bill.

The man smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked between the two of you. “La tua ragazza è bellissima,” he said, patting Jobe on the shoulder. Your girlfriend is beautiful.

Instantly, the easy atmosphere evaporated.

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks, your eyes dropping to the half empty wine glass in front of you. Across the table, Jobe froze. The confident, easy going footballer suddenly looked like a deer in headlights. A dark, furious blush crept up his neck and tipped his ears in red.

“Oh, um,” Jobe stammered, his deep voice cracking slightly. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly unable to meet your eyes. “No, we’re-uh. Grazie, but we’re just friends. Just friends.”

The waiter gave a soft, knowing chuckle, holding his hands up in surrender before walking away.

The silence that fell over the table was deafening. It wasn’t your usual comfortable silence; it was heavy, thick with a sudden, suffocating shyness. You risked a glance up through your eyelashes and caught Jobe already looking at you. He quickly looked away, clearing his throat and throwing a few Euro notes onto the table.

“Ready to head back?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

“Yeah,” you breathed out.

The walk back to the villa was agonizing in the best way possible. The cobblestone streets were narrow, forcing you to walk close together. Jobe was 6’3”, a towering, broad shouldered athlete, and next to him, you felt incredibly small. Usually, you didn’t think about the massive size difference between you two, but tonight, every time his arm brushed against yours, it sent a jolt of electricity straight down your spine.

At one point, a group of loud tourists pushed past you on the narrow path. Instinctively, Jobe’s massive hand shot out, wrapping around your bare waist to pull you out of the way. His hand was so large it practically spanned the entire width of your lower back, his long fingers pressing into your skin. He dropped his hand almost immediately after the tourists passed, both of you hyper-aware of the lingering heat where he had touched you.

By the time you made it back to the secluded villa, the unspoken tension was practically vibrating in the air.

“Wine?” Jobe asked the second the heavy wooden door clicked shut behind you. He was already heading for the kitchen, looking like he desperately needed something to do with his hands.

“Please,” you said, kicking off your sandals.

You ended up on the massive balcony overlooking the dark, sparkling sea. The moon was casting a silver glow over the water, but you could barely focus on the view. You were sitting on the plush outdoor sofa, your legs tucked under your flowy skirt. Jobe sat next to you ,a little closer than necessary.

You both drank the first glass of rich red wine far too quickly, desperate to drown out the lingering shyness from the restaurant. By the middle of the second glass, the heavy, awkward tension started to melt into a warm, fuzzy buzz. The wine loosened your limbs and made your head spin just a little, blurring the strict lines of ‘best friends’ you had drawn around yourselves for years.

Jobe shifted on the sofa, turning his body completely toward you. He had taken off his overshirt, leaving him in just a fitted white t-shirt that stretched across his chest. One of his long legs was bent, his knee brushing against yours.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured. The wine had lowered his voice to a soft, gravelly rumble that made your stomach do flips.

“Just thinking,” you replied, tracing the rim of your wine glass. You looked up at him, the alcohol giving you a sudden burst of liquid courage. “About what that waiter said.”

Jobe’s breath hitched. His dark eyes locked onto yours, the playful best friend facade completely gone, replaced by something so raw and full of yearning it made your heart pound against your ribs.

“Yeah?” he whispered, leaning in just a fraction of an inch. “Did it bother you?”

“No,” you admitted, your voice barely above a breath. “Did it bother you?”

Jobe slowly reached out and took the wine glass from your trembling hands, setting it on the table next to his. When he turned back to you, the space between you had somehow vanished.

“It bothered me that I had to correct him,” Jobe confessed, his voice thick with an emotion that had been building up for years.

He reached out, his massive, calloused hand gently cupping your jaw. The contrast was staggering, his hand was so big it cradled the entire side of your face, his thumb resting just below your cheekbone. He was so gentle, treating you like you were made of glass, but his eyes were dark with a desperate, starving kind of need.

“Jobe,” you whispered, leaning into his palm.

“I’ve been going crazy,” he breathed, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. You had to tilt your head up to accommodate his height, even sitting down. “Every single day. Looking at you, being this close to you, and not being able to do this.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer. He tilted your chin up, and his lips finally brushed against yours.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t aggressive. It was the slowest, most agonizingly tender burn. His lips were soft, tasting like expensive red wine and mint, moving against yours with a hesitant reverence, as if he was terrified you were going to pull away.

But you didn’t. You let out a soft, involuntary sigh, your hands coming up to grip the front of his shirt.

That tiny sound was all it took to break his restraint. Jobe groaned, a deep, vibrating sound in his chest, and the kiss deepened. His other hand slid around to the back of your neck, his long fingers tangling in your hair to hold you in place as his mouth opened over yours.

The kiss was intoxicating. It was years of stolen glances, of accidental touches, of late night phone calls, all pouring into this one moment. You opened your mouth for him, and his tongue swept in, tasting you, mapping you out with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made your head spin faster than the wine ever could.

“Come here,” he murmured against your lips.

Before you could even process the request, his hands gripped your waist. With effortless, terrifying strength, he lifted you completely off the cushions and pulled you right into his lap. You gasped into his mouth as you straddled his thighs, your flowy skirt pooling around his legs.

Sitting in his lap, the size difference was overwhelming. His broad chest felt like a wall of solid muscle beneath your hands, and you felt so incredibly small, completely enveloped by him. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling your hips flush against his, leaving absolutely no space between you.

You tangled your arms around his neck, burying your hands in his soft, dark hair, pulling him closer as the kiss turned desperate. The slow burn had caught fire. Jobe’s mouth was hot and demanding, his lips trailing away from your mouth to press open-mouthed, searing kisses along your jaw and down the sensitive skin of your neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” he panted against your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. His large hands slid up from your waist, his thumbs tracing the bare skin of your midriff just below your top, sending shivers wracking through your body. “I’ve wanted you for so fucking long.”

“I want you too,” you whimpered, tilting your head back to give him better access, your fingers tracing the broad line of his shoulders. “Jobe, please—”

“it’s not that big of a deal,” your boyfriend, jobe, said.

except it was a big deal, at least to you. he had invited you to his friends party, you politely declined because you had to visit a cousin you hadn’t seen in years. jobe accepted and asked if it was still okay if he went, of course, thinking it’s a small thing his friend is having at his house you told him it was fine.

that was until you came back from a long day of shopping, walking, and eating with your cousin, when you finally settled down in the kitchen for a late-night snack you saw jobe updated his story.

you clicked on it expecting to see happy birthday wishes to his friend, or a cute picture of them together. instead, you saw him at the club, surrounded by women. you instantly swiped up, dm’ing him asking where he was.

you texted him non-stop for an hour or two and he didn’t even read them, you checked his location and it wasn’t updated. you bawled your eyes out, and it ruined the one night you were going to have with your cousin.

he came home the next morning with coffee in his hands like nothing had happened the night before. you were furious and demanded to know where he was, his excuse was his phone died. then, you two were going back and forth for what felt like forever, and now you’re here.

“it is a big deal to me,” your voice cracked, “jobe!”

“you’re overreacting,” he said in a calm tone, which made you more upset because he would do that to make it seem like you were being dramatic, “it was my mates birthday, and i invited you.”

“oh, yeah, you just forgot to mention it was at a fucking strip club!” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose together.

“i didn’t think i had to!” jobe raised his voice, “you know bryan, he’s like that, his party last year was in las vegas for fucks sake!”

you felt your eyes start to tear up, “don’t raise your voice at me,” you said, in a weak voice, “and i don’t know him like that.”

jobe sighed loudly, “okay, fine, but don’t try to blame this on me when it’s not my fault.”

“well it’s certainly not mine.” you sniffled.

“you’re being ridiculous,” he laughed, “i can’t do this.”

“what’s fucking funny?” you scoffed, blocking the exit.

“you, y/n, you.” he said, walking back to his spot to sit, “you’re really making a big deal out of nothing, it’s not like i fucked anyone or they touched me, i stayed away!”

“i believe you, i never said i didn’t,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek, “it’s just a weird thing to not mention.”

“okay, you’re right, i’m sorry,” he said, flashing you his bright, dimpled smile that was your weakness, “can we be friends again?”

“i don’t wanna be your friend.” you sniffled again, this time laughing.

“oh, you wanna be more than friends, huh?” he raised his eyebrow, grinning more.

“shut up, i’m still mad at you.” you said, walking off to the living room.

“not for long, you won’t be!” he laughed from behind you.

-

jo. bellingham taglist: @deonegiii , @mariaaaalm , @mmonkeh3000 , @guessv , @night-fury-kamil , @bernalswifeyy <3