jude catches you and jobe being close to intimate, when he tells mark and denise you expect suprise but they all expected it including your family!
taglist (tw) : a bit suggestive, caught, childhood bsfs, established relationship, private relationship
jobe had always been there for you.
when you were six, he was the boy who insisted worms deserved names before they were put back in the garden.
when you were ten, he was the one who pushed you on the swings higher than anyone else dared, promising he wouldn’t let you fall.
when you were fifteen, he was somehow still the first person you called whenever something good or horribly embarrassing happened.
somewhere between those scraped knees, movie nights, and borrowing each other’s hoodies without asking.. being best friends quietly turned into something else.
though neither of you knew exactly when. you just knew that one afternoon, while sitting shoulder-to-shoulder watching some awful rom-com, jobe had reached for popcorn at the same time you did causing your hands to bump into eachother.
he looked at you.
“…what?” you laughed.
“…nothing.”
“…you’re staring.”
“am i?”
“yes.”
“…i think you’re pretty.”
“…”
“…”
“oh.”
that had been almost eight months ago and now, the two of you were somehow dating. secretly though, not because anyone would necessarily care…
okay, maybe because they definitely would. your parents couldn’t keep a secret to save their lives and his family teased him over literally everything. so you both agreed to keep it between yourselves for a while which had worked surprisingly well.
until today.
“they’re all out,” jobe said, dropping onto his bed. “mum said they won’t be back for hours.”
“hours?” you raised an eyebrow.
“hours.”
you smiled. “that’s dangerous information.”
he grinned right back. “i know.”
you sat beside him, knees brushing together. “so…”
“so?”
“what do you want to do?”
he shrugged dramatically. “well, i was thinking we could revise-“
you burst out laughing. “you’re a terrible liar.”
“worth a try.”
you lightly shoved his shoulder but he caught your hand before you could pull it away, pining you down onto the couch in his room.
“…hi,” he said quietly, hovering above you.
“hi.”
“you’re really pretty.”
“you already used that line.”
“still true.”
your cheeks warmed. “you’re so cheesy.”
“and yet you’re smiling.”
“…shut up.”
instead of listening, he leaned closer “make me.”
“jobe-”
he kissed you before you could finish. it was the kind that made both of you smile halfway through because neither of you could take yourselves seriously.
you pulled away just enough to poke his cheek. “you’re insufferable.”
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
he stole another kiss and when he realised youd given in he starting peppering them all over your face. eventually you were both laughing more than kissing, foreheads resting together.
he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “can i tell you something?”
“depends.”
“i think i’ve liked you since we were twelve.”
“twelve?”
“you beat up that kid who stole my football.”
“i did not beat him up.”
“you threatened him.”
“…”
“…”
“okay, maybe i did.”
“it was very attractive.”
you snorted. “that’s concerning.”
he leaned in again, wrapping an arm around your waist before dipping once again to kiss you. you let out a content sigh before your fingers tugged at his shirt, urging for him to remove it.
he pulled back, discarding the annoying piece of clothing and you took this as your opportunity to straddle his lap.
he let out a soft groan in response, his hand resting gently against your cheek while yours found the back of his neck. the kiss between you two only deepened, the soft moans from you being swallowed by his mouth.
neither of you noticed the bedroom door slowly opening in the heat of the moment.
“well.”
both of you froze. you immediately pulled away from jobe, who only whined in protest. you turned your head so fast your neck nearly cracked and standing in the doorway was his older brother. jude.
his arms were folded. it was obvious he was trying and failing not to laugh. “am i interrupting…?”
you immediately buried your face in jobe’s shoulder.
“i’m moving countries,” you mumbled.
“fair.”
jobe sighed dramatically. “can i help you?”
“actually,” his brother replied, “i came to ask if you’d seen my charger.”
he looked between the two of you. “…i see you’ve both been…busy.”
“leave.” jobe groaned.
“i mean, i found something way more interesting.”
“please.”
“you know,” he continued, completely ignoring him, “mum’s going to find this hilarious.”
your head shot up. “don’t you dare.”
he gasped dramatically, his hands going up. “oh, she’s speaking.”
you pointed accusingly. “if you tell anyone, i’ll-“
“you’ll what?”
“…hide every charger in this house.”
he blinked. “…that’s actually terrifying.”
jobe groaned. “can you please just go?”
his brother grinned. “absolutely. you can have as much smoochy you want” he reached for the doorknob. “after i tell everyone.”
“NO.”
he was already halfway down the hallway.“mum!”
jobe launched himself off the bed, gently pushing you off. “get back here!”
you followed, trying not to laugh despite the embarrassment. “don’t you dare!”
within seconds the entire house was chaos.
“what’s going on?” mark called from downstairs.
“nothing!” you and jobe shouted in perfect unison.
“they’re kissing!” his brother yelled.
there was a brief silence and then:
“…finally!” mark laughed.
denise’s voice chimed in. “i’ve been waiting YEARS.”
“i literally owe your dad twenty pounds,” mark admitted.
“wait you were BETTING? with my dad?!!” you exclaimed.
“of course we were.”
you slowly looked at jobe. “they all knew?”
he rubbed the back of his neck. “…apparently.”
jude walked back into view, smug as ever. “for the record,” he said, “i guessed you two would start dating before christmas.”
“how much did you win?” jobe asked flatly.
“a decent amount.”
you sighed. “this is the worst day of my life.”
jude shrugged. “i don’t know.” he looked between the two of you with the biggest grin imaginable. “looked like it was going pretty well before i walked in.”
you covered your face. “shut up!!!”
jobe groaned so loudly the whole house heard it. “…i’m never recovering from this.”
“we never are..,” you admitted.
he reached over and quietly laced his fingers with yours anyway. “…worth it?”
you smiled despite everything. “yeah.”
“even with him?”
“especially because now he has embarrassing material for the next ten years.”
jude pointed. “correct…i’m making a wedding slideshow.”
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You've barely been unofficially dating Jobe for a month, yet he already treats you like home—forever within arm's reach, forever looking for one more kiss, forever finding reasons to keep you close. Unfortunately, the rest of the world isn't quite as gentle as the little bubble the two of you have built together.
WARNINGS ◦ family issues (slight angst) ◦ weird pacing bc i just wanted to make them kiss lmfao ◦ depressive thoughts of an athlete my bad ◦ size difference / big boy jobe agenda 🙂 ◦ this is all over the place but it was made with love i swear ◦ making out ◦ not explicit but suggestive ◦ they are both young and in love your honor ◦ mdni
5,337 ━━━━━ oneshot jobe bellingham x reader
۶ৎ 𝓩 , i'm falling for the jobe propaganda and i'm bringing you all down with me. this one is for all my girlies who enjoyed the childhood bsf jobe last time and asked for a part two. even tho this can be read as a standalone and you'll be fine with it, here is my previous jb work if you're interested in reading >< not my proudest work (just needed to get situationship!jobe out of my system lmfao), but still enjoyed writing this one!
━━━━━ read on ao3
You pulled into the familiar driveway of the old Bellingham family home, the tyres crunching softly over the gravel in the late afternoon light. The engine ticked as you switched it off, and for a moment you simply sat there, hands resting on the steering wheel, letting the quiet settle around you.
The house looked much the same as it always had, the brickwork warmed by years of English weather, the garden a little overgrown but still recognisable, the same faded blue gate leaning slightly on its hinges. You had driven this route so many times over the years that the turns felt automatic, the landmarks passing without thought: the corner shop where you and Jobe used to buy sweets after school, the park where Jude had once tried to teach you both how to juggle a football and ended up with a bruised knee for his efforts.
Today the air carried the faint scent of cut grass and distant rain, the kind of ordinary English afternoon that made the house feel less empty than it was.
Denise had asked you again last week, her voice warm and matter-of-fact over the phone from Madrid, to keep an eye on things while both sides of the family were scattered. Mark was in Germany with Jobe, Denise and Jude were settled in Spain. The house sat quiet for most of the year now, but someone still needed to water the plants, collect the post, open the windows every so often so the place didn’t start to smell damp.
You had become that someone without anyone ever making it official, a key had simply always been on your ring, passed along through years of holidays and emergencies and quiet reliance.
You were in your final year at university nearby, living in a cramped dorm room that never quite felt like home, so stopping by once or twice a week had become part of your routine. Nobody questioned it anymore, you belonged here in the same effortless way the family did.
You stepped out of the car, slinging your bag over one shoulder, and made your way to the gate. The metal felt cool under your fingers as you unlatched it, the familiar squeak greeting you like an old friend.
The path to the front door was the same as always, a few weeds pushing through the cracks near the step, the flowerbeds Denise tended so carefully now looking a little neglected but still alive. You unlocked the door without knocking, the key turning smoothly in the lock, and slipped inside, kicking off your shoes in the hallway the way you always did. The house smelled faintly of closed-up air and the lavender spray Denise liked to use, a scent that immediately wrapped around you like an embrace.
You moved through the rooms with the unthinking ease of long habit. First the curtains in the living room, pulling them back to let the afternoon light spill across the worn sofa and the coffee table still scattered with old magazines. You opened a window in the conservatory, complaining quietly to yourself about how nobody ever remembered to close it properly, the cool breeze stirring the leaves of the plants lined up along the sill.
Denise had once jokingly insisted they grew better when someone spoke to them, and you had rolled your eyes every single time since, yet here you were again, murmuring nonsense to the monstera as you checked the soil and gave it a careful drink of water from the jug you kept under the sink.
“Don’t tell your mum I forgot last week,” you whispered, the words half-absurd, half-comforting in the quiet house. She felt like a mother to you in ways that still caught you off guard sometimes, especially on days when the absence of your own family pressed a little harder than usual.
In the kitchen you switched the kettle on before doing anything else, the ritual so ingrained you barely noticed yourself doing it. You straightened a crooked family photo on the wall without thinking, one from years ago, you and Jobe as little kids standing beside a slightly taller Jude, all of you grinning wildly at the camera with matching grass stains on your knees. The sight made something twist warmly in your chest.
You thought of the last time you had seen Jobe, barely a month ago now, the way his hands had felt steady on your waist during that first sober kiss, the quiet certainty in his voice when he had suggested a proper date. Since he had returned to Germany the two of you had fallen into something that felt both brand new and deeply familiar. Daily texts, late-night FaceTime calls where one of you would fall asleep mid-sentence, stupid videos sent back and forth across the distance, inside jokes that had grown naturally from shared routines. You knew when his training sessions ended, he knew when your lectures finished.
Neither of you had labelled it, but the feelings were real, the kisses sober and intentional, the way you slipped into behaving like a couple without ever sitting down to define it. Mark and Denise still didn’t know, not because you were hiding, but because it simply hadn’t come up in the scattered conversations across continents.
You moved upstairs briefly to crack open a window in one of the bedrooms, noticing Jude’s old hoodie still draped over the back of a chair, and smiled faintly to yourself. Downstairs again, you checked the dehumidifier in the utility room, emptying the water tray with the same automatic care you always gave it.
The house felt lived in because you made sure it did, a quiet responsibility you had carried for years without fanfare. It was home in the truest sense, not because of blood, but because you had chosen it, and it had chosen you back.
You were folding a blanket left untidy on the sofa, the soft wool familiar under your fingers, when you heard a noise upstairs.
Not loud, but distinct enough to make you pause, hands stilling on the fabric.
The house was supposed to be empty, Denise and Jude were in Madrid, Mark and Jobe were in Germany. You stood very still, listening, the kettle beginning to click and bubble in the kitchen behind you. Probably nothing, you told yourself.
You convinced yourself for a moment it was the old pipes settling, or a bird on the roof. But then it came again, a faint creak of floorboards, the soft sound of movement where there should have been none.
Your heart picked up. You glanced around, instinct more than bravery, and grabbed the nearest thing that felt solid, an umbrella from the stand by the door, its wooden handle cool in your grip. You moved cautiously through the hallway, the stairs creaking under your weight as you climbed, the familiar scent of the house suddenly sharper with tension.
The landing was dim, light filtering weakly from the half-open bedroom doors. You paused outside Jobe’s old room, listening. Another soft sound. Your grip tightened on the umbrella.
The door was ajar. You pushed it open slowly, the hinges giving their familiar whine.
Jobe was standing near the bed, looking exhausted in a way that went deeper than travel. His hair was messy, hoodie creased from the flight, trainers half untied as if he had kicked them off without caring where they landed. His eyes were red-rimmed, lashes still damp, the puffiness around them impossible to miss even in the soft light. He didn’t look glamorous or composed, he looked like someone who had been quietly falling apart and had nowhere else to go.
“Sam?” The nickname slipped out, confused and soft, your voice barely above a whisper.
For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. His gaze lifted to you, surprise flickering across his face as he registered the umbrella gripped in your hand, the way you stood frozen in the doorway like an intruder in a house that had always been yours as much as his.
The question was there in his eyes — you? — raw and unguarded, a silent Y/N? that needed no words. It was the kind of look that carried years of shared history, the surprise of finding the one person who had always made the world feel steadier right when everything else had tilted.
You felt it too, that pull, the instinctive need to close the distance, to bridge the sudden, unexpected gap between you. Your feet moved before your mind fully caught up, the floorboards creaking softly under you as you stepped further into the room, the umbrella lowering slowly to your side.
He blinked once, as if grounding himself in the reality of you being there, then took a slow step forward, the floorboards creaking under his weight. Another step, unhurried, giving the moment space to unfold naturally.
“You’re here,” he said quietly, the words rough around the edges with exhaustion and something deeper, his eyes never leaving yours as he closed the last bit of space. There was no rush in the way he moved, only the quiet certainty of someone who had been carrying too much and had finally found the one person who made the weight feel bearable.
His hand came up slowly, fingers brushing your arm first, then cupping the side of your face with a gentleness that contrasted the tiredness in his posture.
“Didn’t think anyone would be here.”
You didn’t pull away. The umbrella clattered forgotten to the floor as you leaned into the touch, your free hand coming up to rest lightly against his chest, feeling the steady, if weary, beat of his heart beneath the fabric.
The kiss, when it came, wasn’t sudden. It built in the shared breath between you, his forehead resting against yours for a heartbeat, his thumb tracing the line of your cheek as if memorising the familiarity of it all over again. Then his mouth found yours, deep and a little rough around the edges, not from lust but from the simple, desperate need to hold onto something solid after days of everything feeling unsteady.
You yelped softly in surprise as he guided you back toward the wall, breathless, his body following with a quiet urgency that made your heart stutter. You stepped back instinctively at first, stunned, but you didn’t let him go, one hand fisting gently in the front of his hoodie as you kissed him back, the relief of it washing over you both in the quiet room.
The kiss lingered, deepening in the way you had grown used to over the past month, the way Jobe had quietly revealed himself to be someone who loved kissing, who used every stolen moment to his advantage with a clingy affection that still caught you off guard sometimes.
In that first week after waking up in his bed, when he had stretched every off day just to spend more time with you, the two of you had slipped into something that felt more like a couple than anything either of you had admitted out loud. Proper dates that had started awkward and ended with his hand in yours, sober kisses that had grown bolder and more frequent, the kind where he would pull you close in the middle of a conversation or press his mouth to yours in the car before you could even say goodbye.
You had learned quickly that Jobe Bellingham was touchy in the softest ways, fingers brushing your waist when he walked beside you, foreheads touching after a laugh, kisses that started slow and turned needy because he simply couldn’t help himself. He would steal them in the middle of films, in empty car parks, against kitchen counters while the kettle boiled, always with that same quiet intensity that made your knees feel a little unsteady.
This kiss now carried that same neediness, the rush of it not desperation but the accumulated want of weeks apart, the way his free hand slid to your lower back to pull you closer, holding you there as if afraid the moment might slip away.
You kissed him back with equal measure, the familiarity of it grounding you even as your mind wandered briefly to those early dates, the way he had smiled against your mouth the first time you had kissed sober, the quiet laugh he let out when you had teased him for being clingy, the way he had admitted without fanfare that he had wanted to do it for longer than he knew how to say. It wasn’t out of nowhere.
This was Jobe, the same boy who had always been physically affectionate with the people he cared about, now simply directing more of it toward you in the private spaces you had carved out together.
His mouth softened after a moment, the roughness giving way to something sweeter, more lingering, his thumb still stroking your cheek as if he needed the constant point of contact. You melted into it, one hand sliding up to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his fade out haircut, the taste of him, faint traces of travel and the mint he always chewed on flights, filling your senses in the quiet afternoon light of his old bedroom.
When he finally pulled away enough to breathe, he kept your face between his hands, thumbs brushing lightly over your cheeks. His eyes searched yours, close and intent, the silence stretching between you filled only by the sound of your shared breathing.
You looked up at him, worry tightening in your chest as you noticed the wet lashes, the puffiness, the way his shoulders carried a weight you hadn’t seen in months. You stayed like that for a long moment, simply eyeing each other in the quiet room that had witnessed so many versions of your lives. Your hand came up to cup his where it still held your face, thumb stroking gently over his knuckles, the touch instinctive and tender, the kind of easy affection that came from knowing someone since childhood.
“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, voice barely disturbing the air between you. “Are you okay?”
He thought about the question for a long beat, eyes flicking away briefly before returning to yours. Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek, the gesture almost embarrassed in its gentleness, as if the vulnerability still felt new.
You repeated the question, quieter this time, your free hand coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the fabric.
“What happened?” you asked softly, voice barely disturbing the air between you, your fingers still resting against his chest. “You caught a flight back last night?”
He nodded slowly, his thumbs continuing their gentle movement across your skin as if the contact alone helped him stay grounded. “Yeah, a late one. Didn’t tell Dad, didn’t tell Mum either. Just… needed somewhere quiet, so I came here.”
Jobe exhaled slowly, leaning his forehead against yours for a moment before pulling back just enough to speak. His voice was low, tired, the words coming in pieces rather than a rush.
The words hung for a moment, simple logistics that didn’t quite mask the exhaustion in his eyes. You searched his face, worry deepening as your hand moved to his arm, squeezing lightly.
“Is Mark okay? Did something happen with him?” Your voice betrayed the care you held for the elder couple, the tightness in your grip revealing the worriness you felt.
Jobe shook his head, the motion small and tired. “No., dad’s fine. It’s not… it’s not that.”
You kept your hand on him, thumb tracing absent circles against his sleeve, the gesture automatic. “Are you hurt? Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve picked you up from the airport or—”
He cut you off gently, not with words but by guiding you away from the wall with the same quiet care, his arm slipping around your waist as he led you toward the bed. The mattress dipped under your combined weight as you both sat, close enough that your knees brushed, his hand never leaving your side. The room felt smaller in that moment, the familiar posters and scattered trainers grounding the conversation in the ordinary. He took a slow breath, eyes dropping to your joined hands for a beat before he spoke again.
“I fought with Dad first,” he said quietly, the admission coming after another pause, his fingers tightening slightly around yours. “Then over the phone with Mum, I said some stuff I regret. Didn’t mean most of it, but it came out anyway.”
You listened without interrupting, your free hand coming up to rest on his knee, the touch light but present. Only then did he continue, voice low and steady against the ordinary sounds of the house.
“Borussia hasn’t gone the way I hoped,” he said eventually, the admission quiet. “Performances have dipped, coach is talking about benching me. For the first time since leaving Sunderland, it feels like the pressure from everyone, Mum, Dad, the headlines, the comparisons, it’s all sitting on my chest at once. It fucking sucks.”
He didn’t elaborate with long explanations. He simply let the words sit, his hands still gentle on yours as you listened, your thumb continuing its slow stroke over his knuckles. You didn’t offer solutions or bright reassurances, you simply nodded, leaning into him a little more, your body fitting against his in the way it had started to over the last month.
“That must’ve hurt,” you murmured after a while, the words simple and honest. Your hand moved to his back, rubbing slow circles there, the motion automatic and comforting. “I know what you’re capable of, Sam,” you said quietly after a long pause, voice steady and low, the nickname slipping out like it always did when you needed him to hear you. “I’ve watched you train through injuries, through bad games, through everything. This isn’t the first time things have felt heavy. Remember when you were breaking into the first team at Sunderland? You thought the world was ending after that one rough patch, and look where you are now.”
Jobe let out a shaky breath, his head tilting slightly toward you, forehead nearly brushing your temple. His hand found your knee, fingers curling loosely around it as if anchoring himself. “It fucking sucks,” he muttered again, the words rough and tired, no filter left after the flight and the fight. “Feels like I’m letting everyone down. Mom and Dad, the coach… it’s all piling up.”
You didn’t rush to contradict him. You knew this version of him, the one who carried the weight of expectations like it was his alone to bear, from years of watching him process disappointments on football pitches and in quiet conversations just like this.
Instead you shifted closer on the bed, your thigh pressing against his, one arm slipping fully around his waist as you continued the slow rub along his back. “One bad season isn’t the end of the world,” you said gently, the words woven into the steady motion of your hand. “And if the coach is already thinking about benching you this early, clearly Borussia has bigger problems than just you. You’re twenty, you’ve got time, you run like a beast. You’ve always figured it out before.”
“Doesn’t feel like it right now,” he admitted eventually, voice thick with the stress that had been building for weeks. “Every training session, every match… it’s like I’m waiting for the next mistake. Dad was trying to help, but it came out all wrong. Mum on the phone… I said things I shouldn’t have. Just wanted it to stop.”
You nodded against his shoulder, your free hand coming up to brush a strand of curl from his forehead, the touch lingering as you let him vent.
You had seen him like this a thousand times over the years — frustrated, overwhelmed, the competitive fire that made him brilliant also making the lows feel endless. So you let him be, your body a steady presence beside him, fingers still tracing those slow circles on his back while your other hand rested on his thigh, thumb stroking lightly.
“We can talk about solutions when you’re ready,” you said after another comfortable silence, voice calm and practical. “Maybe reach out to Mark first, tell him you needed space but you’re okay. Then Denise. They love you, they’ll understand once the heat dies down. And for Borussia… you’ve got people there who rate you. Use the time off to reset, train smart, not just hard. You’ve done it before.”
Jobe exhaled again, longer this time, his arm sliding around your shoulders to pull you closer until you were tucked against his side, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. The physical closeness felt as natural as breathing, the kind of quiet intimacy you had built over the last month, stolen touches during dates, late-night calls where words gave way to comfortable silence.
“Yeah,” he said eventually, the word heavy but less sharp. “Maybe. It still sucks though.”
You smiled faintly against his hoodie, your hand continuing its soothing path along his back. “I know. But you’re not alone in it, not even a little.”
The conversation unfolded slowly like that, ebbing between his frustrations and your steady presence, the two of you shifting until you were both lying back against the pillows, bodies tangled in the easy way that had become second nature. His head eventually found your shoulder, your fingers carding through his hair as he talked through more of the pressure, the comparisons, the fear of stalling when he had only just started.
You listened, offered small, practical thoughts when the silence invited them, reminded him of past comebacks without turning it into a speech. Only later, when the tension in his frame had softened further, did you bring it up again.
“You shouldn’t have left without telling anyone,” you said quietly, your hand still in his hair, the words gentle but firm. “Mark must be going crazy right now, thinking something happened. Call him soon, yeah? Even if it’s just to say you’re here and you’re alright.”
Jobe nodded against you, his arm tightening around your waist in silent agreement, the domestic warmth of the moment wrapping around you both like the house itself had been waiting for exactly this.
You stayed like that for a while longer, the conversation easing into a comfortable quiet as the afternoon light continued its slow shift across the room. His breathing grew steadier, the tension in his frame melting further under the steady rhythm of your fingers in his hair and the gentle press of your body against his.
Eventually he shifted, turning more fully toward you on the bed so that his head rested more comfortably against your shoulder. “I missed you,” he murmured, the words low and simple against your skin, his breath warm. “Didn’t even realise how much until you walked in holding that umbrella... Wasn’t expecting it, but I’m grateful, really.”
His hand slid slowly up your side, fingers tracing idle patterns along your ribs through the fabric of your shirt, the touch growing more intentional as he wound down, the exhaustion giving way to the easy affection you had come to expect from him. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, then another to your temple, his lips lingering there for a moment before trailing down to your cheek.
The kisses were unhurried, almost absentminded, the kind that came naturally when he was like this, touchy and clingy in the quiet way that had become one of your favourite things about the last month.
You felt him smile against your skin as his mouth brushed the corner of your jaw, then lower to the side of your neck, one hand slipping under the hem of your shirt to rest warm and steady against the small of your back.
You let out a soft laugh, the sound bubbling up despite yourself as his fingers continued their gentle exploration, tracing the line of your spine. “You’re being extra handsy today,” you teased lightly, tilting your head to give him better access even as you rolled your eyes in fond amusement. “Anyone would think you hadn’t seen me in years instead of a few weeks.”
Jobe hummed against your neck, the vibration sending a small shiver through you, but there was nothing urgent in it, just the simple, winding-down need to be close.
“Can’t help it,” he mumbled, pressing another kiss just below your ear before pulling back enough to look at you, his eyes softer now, the puffiness around them less pronounced. His hand stayed under your shirt, palm flat and warm against your skin, thumb stroking slow circles there as if the contact alone helped him stay present. “Missed this, missed you.”
The admission landed gently, no pressure behind it, only the honest relief of having you there in the one place that had always felt safe. You turned your face toward his, your own hand coming up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing away the last trace of dampness from his lashes.
“I love you, you know that?”
“You already told me that, princess. I love you too.”
“I’ll always be here for you.”
“I know, thanks.” He smiled faintly against your palm, the expression tired but real. “You also told me that on our first date.”
You rolled your eyes, the familiar teasing pulling a soft laugh from you despite everything. “Can’t I try to comfort you once again? I’m trying to be a good person here!”
Jobe laughed quietly, the sound low and warm in his chest as he shifted closer, his tall frame curling around you on the bed with that effortless strength he carried so naturally. “I know,” he murmured, voice rough with affection. “I love you for this.”
The words hung between you for a heartbeat before his mouth found yours again, the kiss picking up where the earlier one had left off, deeper this time, slower, the kind that built gradually as his large hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair.
He was so tall and broad that even lying beside you he seemed to envelop the space, his body a solid, grounding weight as he rolled half over you, one strong arm bracing beside your head while the other pulled you closer.
The kiss turned heated, his mouth moving with a needy intensity that had you sighing into him, your hands fisting in his hoodie as the familiar rush of him — tall, huge, overwhelmingly present — made everything else fade. His free hand wandered lower, slipping under the hem of your shirt again, palm warm and possessive against your skin as the kiss grew messier, more urgent, his breath coming heavier against your lips.
You pulled back just enough to breathe, a breathless laugh escaping you as you pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palm. “Weren’t you crying minutes ago?” you teased, voice light and fond, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw even as you gently pushed him back a fraction.
Jobe let out a low, amused sound, eyes dark and half-lidded as he looked down at you. “Shut up,” he muttered, the words carrying no heat at all before he ducked his head again, capturing your mouth in another deep kiss.
His huge frame pressed you further into the mattress, strong arms caging you in with that effortless power as the kiss continued, slower this time but no less consuming, the quiet room filling with the soft sounds of it and the steady rhythm of two people who had finally stopped pretending they could keep any distance at all.
You sighed into the kiss, your own hands fisting in his hoodie before slipping underneath to trace the solid lines of his back, feeling the way his muscles shifted under your touch. He made a low sound in his throat, the kiss turning hotter, more consuming, his hips shifting against yours in a slow roll that sent heat pooling low in your belly. His mouth trailed from your lips to your jaw, then down the side of your neck, open-mouthed and lingering, teeth grazing just enough to make you arch into him as his hand slid higher under your shirt, thumb brushing the underside of your breast.
You were both breathing harder now, bodies tangled and pressing closer, the quiet room filled with the soft sounds of it, the rustle of fabric, the shared breaths, the faint creak of the old bed beneath you. His kisses grew needier, less controlled, the tall, huge frame of him surrounding you completely as he settled more fully between your legs, one strong thigh nudging yours apart.
The air between you felt thick, charged with the kind of want that had been building since the moment he had walked you back against the wall earlier. Your hands tugged at his hoodie, pulling it higher, fingers tracing the warm skin of his sides as his mouth returned to yours, deep and devouring, the kiss turning into something that felt inevitable, bodies moving together in a slow, heated rhythm that promised more.
You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, a breathless laugh escaping you as you pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart. “What time did you have to catch your flight back?” you managed, voice soft and teasing even as your fingers traced the line of his collarbone, the question a gentle reminder that the world outside this room still existed.
Jobe let out a low, frustrated sound against your neck, his strong arms tightening around you for a moment longer, hips still pressed close in a way that left little doubt where things had been heading. But he didn’t push, he simply kissed you once more, slow and lingering, before resting his forehead against yours with a quiet laugh of his own, the sound warm and fond in the quiet space between you.
“Two hours max?” he answered, voice rough and a little breathless, the words brushing against your lips as he stayed close, one large hand still splayed possessively across your lower back.
You let out a soft laugh of your own, tilting your head just enough to nudge your nose against his, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along the back of his neck. “Two hours? That’s all the warning I get before you turn back into a responsible professional footballer who has to catch flights and leave me here for another month?”
He hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest where it pressed against yours, his thumb stroking slow circles just under the hem of your shirt. “Guess I’ll have to make the most of it then,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting in that familiar half-smile, teasing and fond all at once. “Unless you’re planning to kick me out before I even get a proper cup of tea, darling.”
You rolled your eyes, pushing lightly at his shoulder even as you kept him close, your legs still tangled with his on the bed. “As if I could get rid of you when you’re like this. You’re worse than a stray cat once you decide you’re staying.”
Jobe’s laugh was low and easy, his forehead still resting against yours as he stole one last quick kiss, light and playful this time. “Good thing you already know that,” he said, the banter wrapping around you both like the familiar warmth of the house itself.
The ordinary afternoon continued on around you, the distant sounds of the neighbourhood filtering in through the open window, but for now the two of you remained exactly where you were, tangled, teasing, and quietly content in the small world you had carved out together.
author's note — if you enjoyed and would like to see more of my football works, click here bebs >< SITUATIONSHIP JOBE SITUATIONSHIP JOBE SITUATIONSHIP JOBE yes, i know. i'm joking, they are going to be the best couple out there, just give them time. THANK YOU FOR READING.
── ( j.b. ) jobe is still figuring out how to be someone's boyfriend.
he overthinks almost everything at first. after every date, he'll replay the entire day in his head wondering if he talked too much, if he should've held your hand sooner, or if that joke actually landed. meanwhile, you're already planning the next time you'll see him, completely unaware that he's been analyzing every interaction for the last three hours.
── ( j.b. ) compliments genuinely catch him off guard.
he can take praise on the pitch just fine, but the second you tell him he's handsome or that you missed him, it's like his brain short-circuits. he'll duck his head with a quiet laugh, rub the back of his neck, and mumble something like, "you're just saying that."
he never quite knows what to do with the butterflies you give him.
── ( j.b. ) he always ducks down without realizing it.
whether he's hugging you, listening to you talk in a crowded room, or posing for a picture together, he'll instinctively lower himself so you don't have to strain to reach him. it's become such an unconscious habit that he doesn't even notice anymore until you laugh and tell him he looks like he's folding himself in half just to hear what you're saying.
── ( j.b. ) he accidentally stares at you.
not in an intense way.
more like he'll be listening to you talk, completely invested in whatever story you're telling, only to realize halfway through that he hasn't responded in thirty seconds because he got distracted watching you smile.
when you ask, "why are you looking at me like that?"
he'll blink.
"...sorry."
he doesn't even know he was doing it.
── ( j.b. ) he's awkward whenever he wants a kiss.
instead of just asking, he'll suddenly hover closer than usual. he'll stand beside you in the kitchen for absolutely no reason. sit shoulder-to-shoulder on a couch that definitely has enough space.
look at you.
look away.
look back again.
eventually you sigh, cup his face, and kiss him first. he smiles so hard afterward that you wonder why he didn't just ask.
── ( j.b. ) he's terrified of accidentally hurting you.
he'll hesitate before pulling you into a hug or playfully nudging your shoulder, always second-guessing how much strength he's using. if the two of you are messing around and you dramatically go, "ow," even as a joke, he'll freeze immediately.
"...did i actually hurt you?"
the panic on his face is so genuine that you end up laughing and reassuring him for the next five minutes.
── ( j.b. ) he's constantly reaching for your hand... then second-guesses himself.
his fingers will brush yours while you're walking.
he'll almost intertwine them.
then he'll hesitate for a split second, wondering if now's the right time. you always notice. so you slip your hand into his first. the relieved smile he gives you afterward is so small that anyone else would've missed it.
he still blushes sometimes, but now he'll absentmindedly lean against you while watching a movie or rest his head on your shoulder without thinking. months into the relationship, he'll catch himself doing it and quietly laugh because there was a time when simply holding your hand felt like the bravest thing he'd ever done.
── ( j.b. ) he gets embarrassed when people point out how obvious he is around you.
his teammates don't even have to say anything.
one raised eyebrow after they catch him smiling at his phone is enough.
he immediately flips his screen over.
"what?"
"nothing."
"...why are you lot looking at me like that?"
he already knows. his ears are red before they even answer.
── ( j.b. ) he's terrible at flirting on purpose.
he'll think of something smooth to say. rehearse it in his head. walk over confidently...
and somehow end up asking if you've eaten today. you laugh every single time. he pretends he meant to say that. even though he absolutely didn't.
── ( j.b. ) he remembers tiny details because paying attention comes naturally to him.
you'll mention your favorite snack once, and two weeks later he'll show up with it without making a big deal out of it. he'll notice when you've changed your perfume, when you've cut half an inch off your hair, or when you're quieter than usual. he isn't always the best at finding the perfect words, but he's incredibly observant, and his way of loving often shows up in the little things he notices before anyone else does.
── ( j.b. ) he never stops getting a little nervous around you.
even after months together, there are moments where he'll look at you and have the same butterflies he had on your first date. you'll catch him smiling to himself after you've looked away or hear him laugh quietly when he realizes he's still getting flustered over someone who already calls him theirs. he secretly hopes that feeling never goes away, because to him, it means he'll never stop choosing you.
Jobe Bellingham as your cutie patootie bf! ⋆.˚ 18+ | part two
bf jobe! who stares at your photos he took of you when he’s away for training. he’s desperate to not be apart from you for a second but he’s patient (he swears he is) but he always ends up calling you just to hear your voice
bf jobe! who loooves to cuddle you literally everywhere. he’s a real hugger. Hugs you first before you can even initiate it. His strong and solid arms wrap themselves around your waist automatically and he treats your body like his second skin. He smothers you in kisses when you both hug and he’s not afraid of any pda. Though sometimes he has to limit touching you in public spaces due to the media and cameras :(
bf jobe! who picks you up slightly by your hips or under your pits to piss you off but you just giggle and that itself makes him smile. he sits you nicely on his lap and likes when you face him entirely so he can see your pretty face. he makes out with you in seconds. Does that thing where his warm hand cups your cheek and presses his lips on yours softly while holding you close.
bf jobe! who puts your needs before his ALWAYS. it’s nature to him and so naturally he gives first before receiving. especially when it comes to sex. he prepares you oh so sweetly with his skillful tongue and long fingers pumping into you before ever sticking his cock into you (unless you beg for it)
bf jobe! who engulfs you in his sweater when it’s freezing out. even though you wear layers of clothing he insists by wrapping you flush against his hard chest. he’s taller than you by a lot so he’s literally your personal human heater.
bf jobe! who tilts your face towards him so he can see you feel pleasure, cry or just in general. he loves your face so much and when you’re upset he’s immediately upset, “hey, hey.. c’mon pretty girl, look at me.” a thumb brushing away on your cheek as he kisses your forehead. he’ll comfort you for hours if you’re ever sad, he cannot stand seeing his girl cry.
bf jobe! who gets hard thinking about you. he really can’t keep it in his pants when all he can think about is your cute cunt wrapped snug around his dick. the way your face looks when he makes you cum and your small shy sounds when you try to tell him to speed up. he has all of those living rent free in his head and on his phone
bf jobe! when he senses you’re uncomfortable outside he does this thing where he hides your face into his chest when you’re overstimulated and rubs your back soothingly. whispering sweet words of encouragement as well as his daily kisses all over your face
bf jobe! gets all giddy when people online asks him about you. after he’s posted a picture subtly without your face showing they flood his comment section with “who’s that?? 👀” “jobe gf reveal” and he just posts another one with his lips on yours but his cap is covering your face.
bf jobe! has the prettiest fucking hands ever. a little calloused but they’re long and elegant. he loves caressing your cheeks with them and holds your hair up for you when you’re doing something like baking or doing skincare in the bathroom. either way, his hands are all yours as well— just like the rest of his body.
bf jobe! follows you around like a puppy. he doesn’t like being apart from you at all. so later he tells you that him clinging on you is the right way to make it up to him. don’t forget to give him a billion kisses too.
bf jobe! is the type to drape his body over yours when it’s bed time or when he’s bored. he nuzzles his face into your chest while telling you about his day. bonus points if you lightly massage his shoulders or back so he can practically melt onto you.
warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, choking, sexual photography, praise
pairing: jobe bellingham x fem!reader
summary: y/n gets a job as the photographer for dortmund, and attracts the eyes of a certain midfielder.
masterlist
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 :(
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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
Wc.☘︎ ݁˖- 4.8k
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You gave your reflection one final, critical in the full-length mirror. The soft, flowy skirt you’d thrown over your bikini swished around your thighs, and the top caught the light in just the right way. It was perfect. You grabbed your trusty digital camera, the one that had documented every family holiday for the past five years and slung the strap over your shoulder.
“Y/N! We’re leaving without you!” your cousin’s muffled voice echoed from the hallway outside your hotel room.
“Coming!” you yelled back, but by the time you’d slipped on your sandals and opened the door, you heard the distant ding of the elevator doors closing. Classic. You were always the last one ready.
You sighed, a small smile on your lips. It was fine. You’d been to this resort twice before with your family; you knew the layout like the back of your hand. The walk to the fire-pit near the beach was only two minutes, a path lit by tiki torches and the fading glow of the setting sun.
As you stepped out of the elevator and into the open-air lobby, you felt eyes on you immediately. A few resort staff members and guests glanced your way, and one of the female staff, holding a tray of welcome cocktails, gave you a warm smile. “You look very lovely this evening, miss!” she said as you passed.
“Thank you,” you replied, a blush creeping up your cheeks.
The moment you stepped onto the sandy path leading to the beach, you noticed it: a commotion. A large crowd of people had gathered near the resort’s beachfront bar, phones held high, a chorus of excited shouts and camera clicks filling the calm evening air. You couldn’t quite make out the who or what was causing the storm
And then, a figure detached himself from the chaos.
He was tall, with a familiar build and a head of dark curls that you’d recognise anywhere. He backed away from the crowd, his mother,Denise, laughing softly at his side as he watched the scene unfold. It was a scene you’d only ever seen on social media: Jude Bellingham, engulfed by fans, and his girlfriend caught in the whirlwind. But your eyes weren’t on Jude.
They were fixed on his younger brother.
Jobe.
Your stomach dropped, a strange mix of nerves and excitement flooding your system. Your feet felt like they were glued to the sand. “Should I ask for a picture? “a frantic voice screamed in your head. “Or should I just walk past him like I haven’t just memorised every goal he’s scored this season?”
Your heart hammered against your ribs. This wasn't a scenario you'd ever rehearsed. You were on a family holiday, in a flowy skirt and a bikini top, clutching a digital camera like a tourist. And he was Jobe Bellingham, looking effortlessly cool in a simple t-shirt and shorts, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched his brother’s fame unfold from a safe distance.
It was now or never.
Your body moved before your brain could catch up. You walked towards him, your steps feeling both too loud and too quiet on the soft sand. He turned his head, his gaze shifting from the crowd to you. He looked at you, his expression momentarily stunned, as if he wasn’t used to people approaching him first.
Say something, you idiot!
“Um, hey, Jobe?” you managed, your voice a little higher than you’d intended. You forced a pleasant smile, hoping it looked more confident than you felt. “Is it okay if I ask for a picture?”
For a split second, he didn't say a word. He just blinked, his dark eyes scanning your face with an unreadable intensity. Then, a small, surprised smile tugged at his lips. He glanced at his mom, Denise, who was watching the interaction with a curious, knowing glint in her eyes. He looked back at you, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips.
“Uh… yeah, sure, sure, of course,” he said, his voice laced with that soft, melodic Brummie accent that made your insides flutter. It was deeper in person, more real.
You were half-expecting a polite ‘no’ or a ‘sorry, I’m busy’. The fact that he’d agreed so readily, so genuinely, made a wave of pure joy crash over you. “Oh!? Oh my god, yes!” you squeaked, your tense expression dissolving into a wide, beaming smile.
You fumbled with your phone, unlocking it and opening the camera app. You angled it up, trying to find a good shot, but you could see in the viewfinder that the lighting was off, and the angle was awkward. You were just about to settle for it when Jobe noticed your struggle.
“Here, lemme take it for you,” he offered, holding out his large, tanned hand. You placed your phone in his palm, your fingers brushing against his for a fraction of a second. A jolt of electricity shot up your arm, and you were certain he felt it too.
He stretched his arm up high, and you shuffled to stand beside him, very aware of the significant height difference. You looked up at the camera, feeling like a total dwarf next to him. Denise watched with a soft, maternal smile, her gaze flickering between you both.
Just as Jobe was about to lower the phone, you caught a glimpse of the sky behind him. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in breathtaking shades of orange, pink, and purple. It was a perfect, impossibly romantic backdrop.
“NO, JOBE, WAIT!” you burst out, your hand instinctively flying to his shoulder to stop him. Your fingers gripped the soft fabric of his t-shirt, your excitement getting the better of you. You were talking to him like he was an old friend, the celebrity status completely forgotten in the face of the stunning sunset. “I need one on my digi camera! This sunset is amazing! I need this.” You gestured wildly with your other hand towards the sky, your eyes wide and pleading. He looked down at you, your hand still resting on his shoulder, your face lit up with the golden hues of the sun, and let out a low, amused chuckle. His expression softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He didn’t look away from you, not even for a second. He was captivated.
“Oh, yeah, that would be sick, mate,” he said, his accent thickening slightly. “Let’s do it.”
He turned to his mother. “Mom, can you take these for us?” He asked, holding out your digital camera.
Denise walked over, a knowing smile on her lips. She took the camera from you, her fingers brushing yours. She looked between you and her son, a silent understanding passing between them.
You and Jobe stood side-by-side, facing Denise. You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t even realise what was happening. His arm naturally found its way around your waist, his large hand resting on the curve of your hip. You instinctively leaned into him, your head falling gently against his shoulder, your hand coming to rest on his solid waist. You felt the warmth of his hand through your thin skirt, his fingers caressing the fabric gently, almost absentmindedly. It felt so natural, so right.
Denise raised the camera. “1… 2… 3…”
The flash went off, and you both blinked rapidly, the bright light leaving spots in your vision. You pulled away slightly, still rubbing your eyes, and walked over to Denise.
“Thank you so much, Momma Bellingham!” you exclaimed, grinning as you reached for your camera.
Denise chuckled, a warm, genuine sound. “I’ve never heard that one before,” she said, amused by the unexpected nickname.
You and Jobe continued to chat for a few minutes as Jude started to wrap things up with the last few fans. He seemed in no rush to leave your company.
“So… um, I hope you’re doing better after that injury you got last game,” you said, looking up at him.
He tilted his head, a curious expression on his face. “Ay, how’d you know about that?” he asked, his tone genuinely intrigued.
“I watch all of your games, silly,” you said, a soft smile on your lips. Great, now I sound like a stalker (you thought to yourself after your remark).
His expression melted. The playful curiosity was replaced by something deeper, something softer. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you. “Is that so, huh?” he breathed, his voice low. “Well… I really appreciate that, mate. I don’t think you truly know how much that means.”
You knew your face was flaming now, but you didn’t care. The sincerity in his voice hit
you right in the chest. “I even got tickets for the next upcoming game next month,” you quickly added. “It’ll be my first match I’ll watch in person. Hopefully, you’ll be playing.”
“C’mon, you know I’ll be there!” he said, grinning. He started to tell you about the new training drills he’d been working on, and his excitement was palpable. But you were lost. You couldn't concentrate on a single word he was saying.
He was even more handsome in person., the straight, white flash of his smile, the sheer breadth of his shoulders… he was even taller than you’d expected. Your gaze traced the line of his jaw, the small mole near his eyebrow, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about football.
You were so obviously checking him out that you didn’t even realise you’d started looking down, a shy smile playing on your lips, trying to avoid his gaze. The air between you both crackled with unspoken electricity.
Denise watched everything, her eyes sharp and analytical. She’d seen that look before, in her husband’s eyes, in Jude’s eyes. She saw the way her son’s hand had lingered on your waist, the way his voice had softened, the way he was hanging on your every word. She knew. And the knowing smile that touched her lips was undeniable.
A few moments later, Jude and Ashlyn finally made their way over. The reality of the situation crashed back down around you.
“I better get going now,” you said, a little abruptly, cutting off Jobe mid-sentence. You hadn’t even heard his last question.
You turned to leave, but Jobe’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. His touch was warm, sending another shockwave through your system. Your heart hammered as you turned back, your eyes wide.
“Hey, wait,” he said, a soft, almost hopeful smile on his lips. “You didn’t give me your name?”
It was once again another shocker. You blinked, your brain scrambling to catch up with reality. You hadn't even registered he'd asked such a question during his rant about training drills and upcoming fixtures.
"Oh, sorry," you said, letting out a breathy laugh. "I didn't even know you asked that, Jobe."
You gave him your name, your voice barely above a whisper. Part of you wondered why the hell he would even need to know it. You were just another fan, another face in the crowd. Tomorrow, he'd probably have a hundred more people asking for pictures, and your name would slip from his memory like water through fingers. You'd probably never see each other in such a moment again. Before parting ways, you couldn't help yourself. A playful smirk tugged at your lips as you looked him up and down, taking in his tall frame one last time.
"Not like you'll remember my name by next month anyway," you teased, your tone light and airy. Jobe's eyebrows shot up, a look of mock offense crossing his handsome face. "Watch!" he called after you as you started to walk away, his voice carrying that warm Brummie lilt. "I wouldn't... hopefully I will see you at the game, yeah?"
You glanced back over your shoulder, catching his eye one last time. He was still watching you, a small, lingering smile on his face. Denise was beside him, whispering something in his ear that made him duck his head and laugh.
You forced yourself to turn around and keep walking.
Don't look back again. Don't look back again.
You didn't.
The night went back to normal after you both parted ways. The festival music pulsed through the warm beach air, the fire crackled, and your family's laughter filled your ears. But yet, every single interaction you'd had with him kept replaying in your head on an endless loop.
The way his hand had felt on your waist.
The way his eyes had softened when you said you watched his games.
The way he'd said your name back to you, testing it on his tongue like he was committing it to memory.
You found your cousins near the fire-pit, huddled around the warm glow of the flames. They were all laughing, drinks in hand, clearly having the time of their lives without you. "Finally!" your cousin Mia shouted as you approached. "We thought you got lost!"You flopped down onto the log next to them, pulling out your phone. "You're never going to believe what happened to me." "Did you get hit on by the pool boy again?" your cousin Leah teased. "No," you said, a giddy smile spreading across your face. "Worse. Better. I don't even know." You opened your camera roll and shoved your phone in their faces. There it was. The picture Jobe had taken of you both. The one where the obvious height differences showed as you leaned up looking at the camera. The reaction was immediate.
"OH MY GOD!" Mia shrieked, grabbing the phone from your hands. "IS THAT JOBE BELLINGHAM?!"
"Wait, wait, wait—" Leah leaned in closer, her eyes wide. "You met JOBE? Like, the Jobe Bellingham?!"
"And Jude," you added nonchalantly, trying to play it cool. "He was there too. But Jobe was the one I talked to."
"Great!" Mia threw her hands up. "The ONE moment I leave you behind, you meet freaking Jobe Bellingham... heck, even Jude!"
"I'm so jealous right now," Leah groaned, dramatically clutching her chest. "This is actually so unfair."
Your oldest cousin, Melanie, had been quiet, studying the picture with an analytical eye. She zoomed in, tilting her head, a slow grin spreading across her face.
"You both would look so cute as a couple," she said finally, her voice dripping with teasing. "Now that I'm looking at the picture properly... I mean, look at the way he's holding you. That's not just a picture, Y/N. That's literally a moment."
Your cheeks immediately flushed. The thought of it, of you and Jobe Bellingham, together—made your stomach do a full somersault. You snatched your phone back, staring at the picture again.
"Ugh, I wish," you said, flopping yourself backward onto the sand, staring up at the starry sky. You felt utterly defeated. "You guys think he's still thinking about everything right now? Like... I can't just be ME, right? I'm just some random girl."
You sat up abruptly, your eyes wide. "I mean, I know he's famous and all," you continued, your voice gaining momentum. "But I swear, it felt like he was a little interested. If only you’d see the way he looked at me? That wasn't just a fan picture. That was—"
"You're a beautiful girl," Melanie interrupted, her voice firm and reassuring. "Even I wouldn't pass up a face like yours."
"Exactly!" Mia chimed in, nodding enthusiastically. "Oh, he's probably trying to find your social media as we speak. Like, why else would he want to know your name? If you were just another fan, he would've taken the picture and moved on. But he ASKED. That means something."
"Maybe he's already googling you," Leah added with a mischievous grin. "He's probably scrolling through your Instagram right now, trying to figure out how to slide into your DMs."
All these back-to-back remarks made you laugh. Hard. Your cousins sure knew how to support your delusions. They had you believing that maybe, just maybe, something had actually happened between you and Jobe Bellingham.
But you didn't want to spend the whole night talking about a boy. You were on holiday with your family, surrounded by warmth and love and the sound of the ocean. You decided to forget that whole thing had happened for a moment.
"Alright, enough about Jobe," you announced, standing up and brushing the sand off your skirt. "Who's ready for some more pictures?"
You pulled out your digital camera, the one that had started this whole mess, and spent the rest of the night capturing moments. Your cousins goofing off. The sunset finally disappeared into the dark ocean. The fire crackled. Your aunt attempting to dance and almost tripping over a log.
You laughed until your stomach hurt. You sang along to the festival music. You ate too much s'mores and got sand absolutely everywhere.
But in the back of your mind, one thought lingered.
Jobe Bellingham asked for my name.
It was stupid. It was delusional. It was absolutely, positively nothing.
But still.
He asked.
Coming back to your hotel room, you could hear the muffled sounds of your family getting ready for bed in the adjoining rooms. The festival had worn everyone out, and the distant crash of waves was already sending the resort into a peaceful silence.
You showered quickly, the warm water washing away the salt and sand from the evening. Wrapped in your comfiest pajamas, you pulled your laptop out and sat cross-legged on the plush hotel bed. Your digital camera was still heavy with memories from the night, and you couldn't wait to see how they'd turned out.
You transferred the pictures from your camera to your laptop, then from your laptop to your phone. The familiar process was almost meditative. Once everything was transferred, you opened your camera roll and began going through the moments you'd captured at the fire pit on the beach. You slid through each picture, critiquing every angle and lighting. Your cousin's mid-laugh. The fire crackling. Your aunt's disastrous dance moves. Each one brought a smile to your face.
You slid right once more.
And then you landed on it.
The one Denise had taken of you and Jobe.
Your hands flew to your mouth immediately, muffling the scream that threatened to escape. Your eyes went wide, practically bulging out of your head.
"This is THEE vacation picture," you whispered, your voice trembling with immense excitement.
You stared at the screen, unable to look away. The sunset behind you both was absolutely breathtaking—swirls of orange, pink, and purple bleeding into the darkening sky. But that wasn't what had you frozen.
It was you and Jobe.
You were both smiling, looking so natural and comfortable with each other. Your head was resting against his shoulder, your hand placed casually on his waist. And his arm was wrapped around you, his large hand resting firmly on your hip.
You zoomed in, your breath catching in your throat.
"WHAT THE HECK?" you whispered, your voice pitching higher. "How did I not blow up in the moment when that happened?"
You zoomed in further, examining the way his fingers curved around your waist. His hand was massive—one hand was literally covering most of your waist. Only ONE hand. The warmth you'd felt in that moment came flooding back, and you could practically feel his touch again.
"His hand is literally covering most of my waist," you repeated, your cheeks burning. "We literally look like a couple."
You stared at the picture for what felt like hours, zooming in and out, examining every detail. The soft smile on his lips. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners. The way you looked so safe in his arms.
You couldn't wait to go home and post these pictures after your vacation. You already knew which one would be first.
1 Week Time Skip
It had been two days since you'd come home from vacation. The post-holiday blues had hit hard, but you'd finally unpacked, done your laundry, and settled back into your normal routine. And now, sitting in your childhood bedroom surrounded by the familiar comfort of your things, you felt like this was the best time to post your vacation dump to Instagram.
You opened the app, your thumb hovering over the upload button. You'd carefully curated the perfect slideshow, making sure to put the picture of you and Jobe first. It was the crown jewel of your entire trip—the moment that had replayed in your head a thousand times since that night.
Like last time, you were freshly showered, sitting in bed in the dead of night. The soft glow of your phone screen illuminated your face as you gave your pictures in the slideshow one last look through, seeing if you needed to add or remove anything before posting.
“Should I post it?” a nervous voice whispered in your head.” What if people think it's weird?” “ What if it comes off as obsessive?”
But then you looked at the picture again. By the way Jobe was holding you. At the genuine smiles on both your faces. It wasn't obsessive. It was a beautiful moment captured on camera.
"AND POST," you announced to no one, pressing the button immediately and placing your phone face down on your nightstand to avoid seeing any notifications.
You didn't want to obsess. You didn't want to refresh the page every five seconds waiting for likes.
Slowly, you dozed off to sleep.
The next morning, you woke up to the surprise of your life.
Your eyes fluttered open, the morning sun streaming through your curtains. You reached for your phone, still half-asleep, and your thumb pressed the home button.
Your Lock Screen was filled with notifications. They were never-ending—every time you scrolled, more appeared at the bottom. Your heart started pounding as you unlocked your phone and opened Instagram.
Your jaw dropped.
The picture had gone viral overnight. Slightly viral, at least. You'd gained 130k likes—the most you'd ever gotten in your entire life. Your notifications were flooded, your DMs were overflowing, and your comments section was an absolute frenzy.
You scrolled through the comments, your eyes growing wider with each one:
"Are you two a couple?"
"Very beautiful couple 😍"
"I'm a new fan of his,is this Jobe's girlfriend?!"
"This picture is so Pinterest coded omg"
"The way he's holding her... I'm crying"
"Wait, is this real???"
And then you saw one from your cousin, mia:
"YOU NEVER SHOWED ME THIS PICTURE OMG SO GORGEOUS YOU BOTH ARE!"
"You're famous now :)"
This was all so much to process. You felt a bit overwhelmed by the sudden attention brought to your account. You'd posted vacation photos before—you'd never gotten more than a hundred likes. And now, hundreds of thousands of people were looking at you.
Soon after, you saw messages from your family members coming in. You clicked on the one from your older uncle, who was a crazy football fan:
"Scrolling on Facebook and I saw this picture of you and the Bellingham brother. Is this real or AI?"
Then from your cousin chat:
"GIRL, you're currently trending on Twitter with that damn picture. It's literally everywhere."
You placed your phone down, just staring out the window for a while. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning.
"This feels so weird," you said aloud, your voice barely above a whisper. "So this is how it feels to go viral overnight, huh?"
But despite the overwhelm, you couldn't stop the smile that spread across your face. You'd been bubbly the whole morning since that moment. Every time you checked your phone, the likes and followers kept climbing on your picture. It was surreal. And as the hours went by, as you did your daily routine, the numbers just kept growing. It was a matter of time until it stumbled upon Jobe's feed.
Across the country, the final whistle for training blew, and Coach called today's session to an end.
Jobe walked over to the locker room, his shirt drenched in sweat, talking to one of his teammates and good friend off the pitch, Carney.
"Finished earlier than expected today, huh?" Carney laughed, tossing his towel over his shoulder.
"Coach probably has a babe to meet at 6pm sharp," Jobe replied with a grin.
Both Jobe and Carney let out obnoxious snorts of laughter, causing the other mates to look their way. They weren't surprised—it was always them making the noise.
The atmosphere simmered down as they reached the locker room, and Jobe sat down on the bench, peeling his shirt off. He pulled out his phone, scrolling mindlessly at first, just doom-scrolling through his feed.
And then it happened.
Your picture appeared on his feed.
His thumb froze over the screen. His heart gave an unexpected lurch in his chest.
It was the picture. The one his mom had taken of you both at the resort. The one where his hand was resting on your waist. The one where you were both smiling like you'd known each other for years.
He read the caption, then scrolled to the comments. His ears grew redder by the moment as he read what was being said about you both:
"He would look amazing with you"
"Are you his girlfriend?"
"Beautiful couple 😍"
"How does it feel to live my dream?"
"Jobe needs to wife her up immediately"
He zoned out mid-way, his mind drifting back to that night on the beach. The way you'd walked up to him so confidently. The way your eyes had lit up when you talked about the sunset. The way you'd said you watched all his games. That kind of support you showed, that's the kind of support he wanted from someone dear to him. Someone who saw him for more than just a Jude Bellingham's little brother. Someone who genuinely cared.
And your eyes. Your smile. The way you'd looked at him like he was just a normal guy.
He wished he could go back to that moment again. He wished he could relive it.
"Jobe?"
He snapped out of his thoughts, looking up to find Carney staring at him with a suspicious expression.
"Dude, I'm talking to you," Carney said, tilting his head. "What has you so down in that damn phone, man?"
Jobe turned his phone off quickly, adjusting his voice, trying to sound casual. "What'd you ask,mate?"
Carney gave him a slow, side-eyed look. He knew Jobe was suddenly acting a bit funny, his face visibly super flustered all of a sudden. But he tried not to question it too much.
"...I said if we're still on for the game with the boys later?" Carney repeated slowly.
"Yeah, yeah, course we are," Jobe replied, his voice a little too quick. "Wouldn't miss it, lad."
Carney just nodded, still side-eyeing him, but let it drop.
Later that night, back at home away from the world, Jobe finally settled into his bed. The house was quiet, the only sound was the distant hum of traffic outside.
He pulled his phone back out.
He opened Instagram.
He went back to your account.
Just to watch it once more. Just to reminisce on the moment with you again. He scrolled through the pictures you'd posted. You with your family. You laughing at the fire pit. You looking beautiful in the golden hour light. And then the picture of you both, staring back at him like a reminder of something he couldn't quite let go of.
Finally, his thumb hovered over the like button.
He pressed it.
*Jobe Bellingham liked your post*.
Little did he know, something so small was about to add even more fuel to the raging fire over this picture that was already sending the football world into a frenzy.
Soon after, he went through your previous highlights, looking at pictures of you and the other moments you'd shared on social media. Your smile. Your laugh. The way you seemed so genuine and real.
It was taking everything in him in that moment to not DM you.
To not type out a message and send it into the void.
To not tell you how much that moment had meant to him.
But he held back. For now.
Back on your side, the moment THAT like came in, your phone buzzed with a notification.
"user Jobe Bellingham liked your post."
Your heart stopped.
You stared at the screen, your mouth falling open.
He found your account at last.
This was the night everything changed for your life. And subsequently, Jobe's own too.
.
.
.
.
author's note .☘︎ ݁˖- first story on Tumblr kinda nervous 😬
sypnosis. you are a famously known pop singer, very known for your pop girl music until you slowly start releasing love songs that your fans were able to notice. now everyone are curious on to who these songs are for, determined to figure who it is.
content. soc-med au . secret relationship . fluff
warnings. mild cursing
jobe’s masterlist
yourusername
liked by milliebobbybrown, oliviarodrigo, and others
‘drop dead’ is finally out! hope you love it <33
comments …
user girl a love song? since uh-when?!
user if you don’t mind me asking, who is this about
user no because seriously when did she starts making love songs (not complaining)
user something fishy is going on… i just can’t prove it
oliviarodrigo IM OBSESSED
yourusername love you
user OLIVIA IK YOU KNOW SOMETHING WE DONT
user is this going to be an album? please tell me it is!
user imagine if its full of love songs 😩 im so here for it
louispartridge_ 👀
user SHUT UP IM SO CURIOUS RN
user INVOLVE ME RN PLEASE
judebellingham so good, big fan 🙌
liked by author !
user ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE
user jude being a y/n fan was not on my bingo card
load for more …
yourusername
liked by judebellingham, kimi.antonelli and others
another one? 👀 ‘man i need’ is out now!
comments …
user OMG
user i have finally come to the conclusion that you are indeed INLOVE
user she definitely is and IM SO HAPPY
millyalcock so when is the full album
yourusername hmm 🤔
user THIS IS NOT A DRILL! THERE IS GOING TO BE A NEW ALBUM
milliebobbybrown its so cute, i’ve been listening to it on repeat
yourusername glad u love it
load for more …
y/nfanupdates
liked by user, and others
y/n l/n spotted watching la liga match between real madrid and athletic
comments …
user oh I didn’t know she was a football fan
user girl where have you been! she has always been a football fan since she was little
user oh 🤨 real madrid u say
user you’re into something…
user girl are u reading my mind…
user could it be…
user jude commented to her post
user y’all can’t a girl just support her favorite team…
load for more …
yourusername
liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, and others
i’ve been waiting for ages! but now i can finally tell you guys, my new album that i’ve been secretly preparing is coming out soon in two weeks!
stay tune for ‘dear bellie’
comments …
user dear bellie is the album name 😭 its so cute
user bellie?
user its sounds like a nickname
oliviarodrigo I CANT WAIT
user all of the titles sounds like a love songs 😭 THIS IS DEFINITELY A LOVE ALBUM
user IT IS
user you guys don’t understand I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS TIME TO COME
user are we just gonna ignore the elephant in the room… both of the bellingham brothers liked this post
load for more ….
celebrityupdates
y/n l/n talks about her upcoming album that is about to be released in two weeks on her recent interview with teen vogue.
“Honestly, it’s something completely new for me. As you all know, I’ve mostly been making songs about myself—my life, my dreams, my friends, and pretty much everything except romance.
Writing about love, affection, and having deep feelings for someone is a whole new experience. It felt unfamiliar at first, and I honestly didn’t know I could write from that place. But as I worked on it, I realized there were emotions I hadn’t explored before.
It feels like I’m starting a new chapter in my life, not just as an artist but as a person too. I’ve written from places of sadness, happiness, and even anger. Now, I get to write about love. It’s exciting, a little scary, and definitely something that’s going to help me grow. I’m really looking forward to sharing this side of me with everyone.”
Though speculations are spreading across everyone and wondering who these are for. The young artists hadn’t shared yet who the mystery person is the album about. Who do you guys think?
comments …
user awwee its her first time being in-love with someone
user god I can’t wait for her to hard launch who this mystery person is
user my money is on jude bellingham
user are we being fr rn
user user girl he’s been seen liking her posts
user no bcs bellie = bellingham
user WAIT YOURE SO RIGHT
user ain’t jude older
user it’s only 3 years gap
user bellie is her nickname for jude 🥹
user let us not jump into conclusions yall
user they’re such a random couple
user idk jude and y/n doesn’t really make much sense
user why are we hating
user i’m not
load for more …
y/nl/n.hq
Rumors have been spreading online about who the singer Y/N L/N has been writing about in her upcoming album. Fans have been sharing their own theories, with many believing the songs could be about professional footballer Jude Bellingham, who plays for Real Madrid.
Just a few days ago, Y/N was spotted watching one of Real Madrid's matches, which quickly fueled even more speculation. Some fans believe she was there to support Jude, suggesting the two could be dating. However, others were quick to defend her, pointing out that Y/N has been a longtime Real Madrid fan. They argued that simply attending a match doesn't mean there's a romantic connection and that people may be reading too much into it.
Another reason fans are convinced is because of the album's title, Dear Bellie. Many have wondered if "Bellie" could be a nickname for the English football star. Of course, nothing has been confirmed, and for now, it's all just fan theories.
Jude isn't the only name being mentioned, either. Other rumored inspirations include actor Harry Collett, Formula 1 driver Oscar Piastri, actors Charlie Bushnell, Finn Wolfhard, and Jack Champion. With so many guesses and no official answers, fans are eager to find out who, if anyone, inspired the album.
So, what do you think? Who do you believe the mystery person behind Dear Bellie is?
Be sure to check out Y/N L/N's upcoming album, Dear Bellie, when it releases!
comments …
user oh my god just leave her alone people
user right like it’s not our business
user some people really needs to get a life
user the album hasn’t been released yet and y’all are already jumping to conclusions
user guys let’s play, its called ‘mind our own fcking business’!
user her and jude are so dating
user did y/n and jude told you that?
user so what if she is?
user I don’t like her
user no one cares
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yourusername
liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, dualipa, and others
the day has finally come! ‘dear bellie’ is out in all platforms. I hope you guys love it, I’ve put so much work, emotions, and love into this.
and to everyone who help me make this happen, thank and love you all for the support and work <33
and to my fans, if it weren’t for you guys I wouldn’t be able to achieve all these dreams of mine love you !!!
and lastly, consider this a gift and a love letter of mine my bellie xoxo
comments …
user THE LAST MESSAGE?!
dualipa DAUGHTER
yourusername MOTHER
judebellingham 🩷
liked by author
user JUDE YOU ARE NOT HELPING
user just be adding fuel to the fire
user I LOVE ALL OF THEM WTF
roses_are_rosie album is going to be platinum in my room
liked by author
user honeybee is making me cry
user she is so inlove im crying so happy for her
user whoever the person behind this album, ik he’s such a good boyfriend because these songs are soo good
user listening to every lyrics rn cuz the mission is not done yet
user for all we know that he’s an athlete then given by the alchemy
user and a younger brother too! u+me=<3 mentions about she likes his older brother
user wait a min…
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popnews
Singer Y/N L/N spotted on a evening date with football player Jobe Bellingham in London.
comments …
user I FUCKING KNEW IT
user GUYS WE WERE SO CLOSE TO FINDING OUT
user TURNS OUT ITS ACTUALLY JUDE’S BROTHER
user who is he
user have u been living under the rock? that’s jude bellingham’s younger brother
user “i like you big brother, he has your same face” make sense now 🤧
user ik jude’s over the moon cuz he got mentioned in a song
user lucky girl
user lucky guy*
judebellingham ship
user we love a supportive older brother
user does this mean i can hit you up now?
user girly went from being a real madrid fan to being a sister in law of a madrid player
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sophia speaks ! a short soc-med fic to start for soc-med fic series for jobe 🥳 this has been sitting on my drafts for so long now, time to let her out lol. i’m surprised I haven’t been publishing jobe fics since he’s my favorite bellingham but anyways there’s more to come
I think it’d be hilarious if u wrote abt reader x bf!jobe, where jobe is js talking and reader is flabbergasted by him and is all like “whatever you say handsome” and it’s all flufffyyyyy
handsome — # jobe bellingham
synopsis — y/n can’t help but admire jobe as he says something that she just cannot focus on
# warnings: like one curse word. fluff.
# wc: 1,1k
# mia’s note: it’s short and i don’t know if exactly what you imagined but this is what i could come up with. thank you so much for your request! with sooo much love, mia.
masterlist
rain tapped softly against the windows, the television murmured some documentary neither of them was actually paying attention to, and the lamp in the corner painted everything in warm gold instead of bright white.
y/n was curled up sideways on the sofa with a blanket over her legs, a mug of tea balanced between her hands. jobe was stretched out beside her. he’d started on the opposite end of the couch, but over the course of the evening he’d somehow drifted closer and closer until one of his legs was pressed against hers and his arm rested lazily behind her shoulders.
jobe was speaking. telling a story about something that had happened during training. all animated with hands and all. “and then he tries to tell me that pineapple belongs on pizza.”
y/n blinked. “hm?”
jobe laughed under his breath. “you’re not listening.”
“i am.”
“really?”
“absolutely.”
he narrowed his eyes playfully. “what did i just say?”
“something intelligent.”
he scoffed. “that’s not an answer.”
“it’s close enough,” she smiled into her mug before setting it on the coffee table.
jobe shook his head with a grin and continued anyway, gesturing with his hands as he spoke.
“i’m serious. then he goes, ‘it’s sweet, so it balances the salt,’ and everyone starts agreeing with him,” he looked genuinely offended by the memory. “i felt betrayed.”
“devastating.”
he nods. “exactly.”
“must’ve been difficult.”
“one of the hardest moments of my life.”
“i’m so sorry.”
he smiled wider. “thank you for understanding.”
he kept talking. something about training tomorrow and about one of the younger players accidentally kicking a ball into a cameraman. then, about how someone had somehow managed to lose an entire bag of bibs.
y/n tried—she genuinely tried—to follow every word. she really did. but it was impossible, because he was so unfairly beautiful.
his curls were still slightly damp from his shower, every few sentences he’d run his hands through them absentmindedly. his hoodie sleeves were pushed up to his forearms. his hands moved every time he spoke, expressive without him even realizing it.
and every now and then, he’d smile his real smile. the one that started small at one corner of his mouth before completely taking over his face. the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made people look at those instead of his teeth.
y/n found herself staring. she wondered if he’d always looked like this or if she’d simply become incapable of looking at him normally.
he was explaining something about tactics now. she had absolutely no idea what it was though. his lips moved and his eyebrows lifted and he looked so invested in whatever point he was making. she was busy thinking about how someone could possibly have eyelashes that long.
“and that’s why i think it would’ve made more sense if we’d switched sides earlier,” a pause to look at her. “don’t you think?”
he was met with nothing but silence.
jobe tilted his head. “love?”
again, nothing but silence.
she was still looking at him, but she was gone.
he waved a hand in front of her face. “earth to y/n?”
she blinked once. “huh?”
he laughed. “there you are.”
“sorry.”
“where’d you disappear to?”
she opened her mouth to then close it again, because saying i was busy admiring your face felt slightly embarrassing. even after almost two years together.
“nothing.”
“nothing?”
“mhm.”
“i don’t believe you,” he leaned a little closer, squinting at her dramatically. “you’ve got that look.”
she frowned softly. “what look?”
“the one where you’re thinking something.”
“i’m not.”
“you are.”
“prove it.”
“easy,” he gently poked the space between her eyebrows. “little wrinkle.”
she gasped. “i do not wrinkle.”
“you wrinkle.”
she rolled her eyes and he chuckled before continuing exactly where he’d left off.
“anyway, like i was saying—”
there it was again. his hands, his voice, the little dimple that appeared whenever he smiled, the concentration on his face over something so completely insignificant. how was she supposed to pay attention?
“…so maybe next match it’ll—”
she sighed. “whatever you say, handsome.”
the words escaped before she’d even realized she’d said them.
jobe stopped mid-sentence. “what?”
she blinked.
“what? did you just—”
she immediately covered her face with both hands. “ignore me.”
his grin spread so slowly it was almost painful to watch. “no.”
“please?”
“absolutely not.”
she groaned into her palms. “i can’t believe i said that out loud.”
he was trying so hard not to laugh. “a little distracted, were we?”
she peeked through her fingers. “fuck you.”
“weren’t listening to a word.”
“not one.”
he put a hand over his heart. “that hurts.”
“i know.”
“i was making excellent points.”
“i’m sure you were,” she nodded. “i believe you.”
he finally laughed and the sound immediately pulled a smile out of her too.
“what was going through your head?” he asked.
she shrugged. “you’ve got really pretty eyes.”
he stared. “that’s it?”
“yeah.”
“that’s why you stopped listening?”
she looked at him like the answer was obvious. “jobe,” she reached over and absentmindedly fixed one of his curls. “…look at you.”
his ears turned pink almost instantly. “don’t.”
“you’re sitting here expecting me to focus on tactics when you look like…” she searched for the words. “…that.”
he laughed quietly. “‘that’?”
“yes.”
he tried to hide his smile by looking down.
she looked toward the rain hitting the windows. “it’s pouring.”
“the heating’s on.”
“you’re adorable.”
“stop.”
“you are.”
he shook his head, smiling helplessly. “you know…” he murmured, “…i was trying to have a serious conversation.”
she reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers without thinking.
he squeezed her hand once. very gently.
“for the record,” she said softly, tracing absentminded circles over his knuckles, “i really do think you’re the prettiest person i’ve ever seen.”
he looked over at her. there was no teasing left in his expression now. he leaned over without another sentence, pressing a slow kiss against her forehead. then another against the tip of her nose. then one against her cheek.
“okay,” he mumbled.
“okay what?”
“whatever you say, gorgeous.”
she laughed so hard she nearly fell sideways into him. and he caught her effortlessly, wrapping both arms around her waist until she was tucked against his chest.
“see?” he whispered into her hair. “now neither of us can finish a conversation.”
she smiled against his hoodie. “i love you.”
“and i love you ten times more you sexy, beautiful, talented, sexy, smart, beautiful woman.”
and y/n didn’t tell him very frequently how good looking he was, but he made sure to let her know every single day how gorgeous, stunning, and amazing she was.
