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dontexpectmuch · 11 months ago

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part 2 - [Lost in Madrid]

author note: jude is annoying but whats new + im too lazy to proofread. hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think about it!!

series.masterlist // part three

“but, how do i know what participle form to use?”

you turn around to face adriana, one of your students in this course, “well, unfortunately you actually have to learn those.”

at your response, you could see hear shoulders sack a bit, muttering a spanish curse word under her breath.

“but,” you speak up again, hoping to lift up her spirits, “you’ll know them in no time, they’re easy to remember.”

nodding, she smiles at you before continuing to work on her report that she needs to wrote by the end of the month, something to monitor her progress in class.

sighing, you look around the class room, eyes focusing on the windows. it has been almost a month of you being here, teaching and helping around the center, and though it’s still a bit slow, you surely find different aspects to nite down for your thesis.

“hey, pretty teacher!” a voice appears by the door, making you tear away your eyes from the trees outside to look at the person.

“ah, lorenzo, buen día.” you smile at lorenzo, a new friend of yours.

you guys have been introduced to another by hernan, who claims that since you are in the same age range, you would get along even better than with others in the center. and he wasn’t wrong. even if you haven’t known lorenzo for a long time, you still find yourself enjoying his presence quite a lot, feeling comfortable enough to talk about various things with him during your lunch break. however, señor lagarde is still your favorite person, him giving you the feeling of an uncle that is also a father figure.

you walk up to him, looking at your students briefly before placing your attention on him.

“are you done with your group?”

lorenzo nods, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms in front his chest. they looked bigger this way, really good even, you admit. but you try to focus on his brown eyes instead, which are already looking at your face.

he turns his head to the side, smiling slightly, “i only had the younger ones today, they work fast. how about you, linda?”

you mirror his smile, “yeah, almost. they started their reports today, that is why it’s taking a bit longer.”

your gaze moves up to the clock on the wall, eyes widening as you see the time, “guys! you can already pack and leave for your practical lessons, the coaches wanted to start earlier today!”

choruses of “sí”s and “gracias”s are heard throughout the class, everyone is packing up and leaving the room, but not before wishing you a nice day.

“shall we go home together?” lorenzo pushes his body off the door frame, hand going through his dark hair to push it out of his forehead.

you move back to your desk, quickly packing your stuff, “can’t, i promised señor to watch his team play today.”

“want me to stay with you?”

smiling at his offer, you shake your head, kindly declining, “it’s fine, señor and i get along really well.”

“pero, what if that guy bothers you again?” his eyes sharpen and his lips are drawn into a straight line, though you can’t help but chuckle a bit at his behavior.

“no one bothers me! it was an accident!” you explain, putting your bag on your shoulder and walking out the room.

lorenzo is hot on your heels, not satisfied with your answer, “was that thing during lunch also an accident?”

thinking back, you pause a bit, unsure of what to say, “well, i don’t know? maybe he didn’t see me.”

scoffing, he shakes his head, “if you say so, but let’s get lunch outside next time, yes?”

“yeah, we’ll see.”

you bid your goodbyes and start to walk to the open field, thinking about the situation lorenzo was referring to,

“it’s so hot today.” you groan, moving along the line with your plate at hand.

“wait til it is august, it’s even worse then.” lorenzo replies, a smile dancing on his lips.

as you move up to the place for your drinks, you get yourself a coffee and some fruit, balancing them on your way to your seat.

but, right before you arrive at your table, someone bumps into your shoulder, causing the hot coffee to spill over your hand.

“ow, fuck. shit shit shit-“ you quickly put the coffee and plate down, shaking your hand for some relief.

“didn’t see you there.” a familiar voice behind you says, making your eye twitch.

“usually,” begin, turning around to face the british footballer, “one would apologize, instead of saying something like that.”

however, jude just nods, eyes focused on something else as he already begins to walk away, “yeah, ‘m sorry.” is all he says before he moves to the table to sit next to his friends.

scoffing, you looking down at your hand, which still feels hot, “stupid fucker.”

that trip down memory lane makes you scoff and you try shaking your head to get out of it.

but you also didn’t want to think too badly of someone you didn’t know, because who knows? maybe he has had a bad day that day? maybe he wasn’t feeling well?

instead of focusing on that, you try to focus on your view ahead, a happy señor lagarde that was explaining something to the players lined up in front of him.

in order not to bother him, you quietly move to your seat, a bit further away from the field than last time, just to be safe. you put your bag on the ground and rest your hands on your hips, eyes still looking at the people on the field. this time, there are more players than before, from different age groups and all of them play professional football here in madrid.

everything goes according to the schedule for a while, nothing too exciting. the sun is still high up in the sky, its rays heating up the entire place, resulting the players to sweat excessively during their training. you try to stay professional, you really do, but seeing some of the elder players running around the field, their shirts clinging onto their body and the sweat rolling down their neck, just makes you appreciate you internship a little more than necessary.

your daydreams come to an end when you hear someone call out your name, making you tear away your gave from the grass on your feet.

“can you bring us some water bottles?” you hear the british player - what was his name again? - yell at you, voice booming over the entire pitch.

you open your mouth, wanting to yell back, something along the lines that you aren’t some water bottle holder or whatever. but, you hold back, deciding on being mature about it and doing what he asked [demanded] you to do.

you get up, grab the bag with water bottles and start walking towards the group of people. opening the bag, you let each of them grab out a bottle, hearing small “thank you’s” as you pass them. as you turn around to walk back, you feel something around your foot, causing you to slightly trip, though it is nothing major and you catch yourself immediately. you turn around, looking at your feet first before your gaze moves up, staying locked at the face of the british player, whose eyes look everywhere but your direction.

you bite your tongue, trying your best not to say anything you might regret later. you continue your way back to your seat, leaving the now empty water bag next to it.

as practice slowly comes to an end, you start to pack up your book and pen, thinking about what you could cook for dinner when you arrive home.

“are you a new coach here?”

looking up, you see jaden - at least that is what you think his name was - looking down at you, a towel slung around his neck and hands resting on his hips. his dark eyes look directly into yours, creating a weird feeling in your stomach.

are you getting sick? due to the weather changes perhaps?

“no,” you shake your head amd get up from your seat, his eyes never leaving yours and watching every movement from your side, as if you’re some kind of prey.

weirdo.

“i do an internship here, something with languages.”

the expression on his face morphs into one of enlightenment, “yeah, makes more sense.”

offended, your eyebrows draw together, getting ready attack this guy in front of you, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“nothin’” he throws his hands up in defense, “but, like, c’mon, y’know what i mean.”

“no, no i do not know what you mean,” you take a step forward, “why are you so rude?”

“‘m not rude! just trying to start a conversation.”

“well, you suck at that.”

now, he is the one offended, mouth open in shock, “no i don’t?” his accent was thick, maybe because he was getting worked up, “you suck at getting a conversation going!”

“no, i don’t!”

“you do, though.”

rolling your eyes you move away, making your way to the exit, “go away, jaden.”

he follows you, “it’s jude.”

“that’s what i said.”

“wow, you’re rude.” jude says, coming to a halt when you arrive at the door.

“me?” your eyes widen in anger? or is it frustration? you aren’t sure, but this guy surely knows how to awaken these emotions in you, “you’re the rude one! you never properly apologized for what happened during lunch!”

“i did!”

sighing, you close your eyes for a second, your nerves running thin, “listen, i gotta go-“

“want me to come with you.” his smirk makes you want to crave out his eyeballs, though you hold yourself back.

he is just a boy, he is just a boy, he is just a boy-

“woah, are you that happy that you forgot how to talk?” he speaks up again, smirk widening.

“have a nice day.” you monotonously reply, opening the door and closing it abruptly behind yourself.

———————————————————

you always liked to say that fate was mostly by your side due to your positive thinking and avoidance of negative attitudes. but that luck must have come to an end.

after that talk with jude - not jaden, you really have to start remembering names better - you hoped to avoid being around him as much as you could, not because he did anything wrong, but just to safe yourself from another [annoying] conversation with that guy.

as already mentioned, however, fate seems to enjoy to throw you into situations where avoiding him was nearly impossible.

whenever you walked onto the pitch during your weekly practical classes, he was already there, yelling inaudible things at your direction and laughing at every mishap that happens to you. whether it was spilling the water because you got scared by a loud noise, or because your phone slipped out of your hands.

during lunch breaks, he seems to make it his very own mission to stand in your way, taking away the last piece of cake or taking extra long to choose a meal option, and what not.

at first you thought that he might just want to tease his teammates, they have always had a playful relationship amongst themselves, not a second passing without a laugh or giggle. but every time he did something that annoyed you, his eyes were already focused on yours, teasing smirk almost inviting you to punch it away.

“i just don’t understand what he wants from me.” you decide to rant to one of your colleagues during your break, expression sour.

“well,” she begins, chuckling a bit, “maybe he wants to get to know you?”

you feel like laughing, not believing the words coming out her mouth.

“yeah? and that is why his shots always ‘accidentally’ hit my legs?” you point out, rolling your eyes as you lean back in your chair, “i just want a relaxing internship, dealing with a child was not on my bingo card.”

amanda, your colleague, laughs at your comment, leaning against the table, “that is how footballers flirt! you should give him a chance-“

“give whom a chance?” lorenzo interrupts your conversation, taking a seat next to you, his arm behind the back of your chair.

“no one.” you answer, looking at amanda knowingly, “i was just telling her about some dude.”

“who?”

“irrelevant.” you dismiss the topic and look at the time, eyes widening when you register what time it is. “i have to go, señor lagarde needs my help today.”

as you leave the room, you hear amanda shout at you, something along the lines to enjoy your time.

“ah, linda! great timing!” you are greeted by señors deep voice as soon as you step onto the pitch, your bag now left by the benches.

“i’m here to help!” you reply, laughing as he puts an arm around your shoulder.

his eyes focus on the players on the field, all of them shouting something in spanish, sometimes more curse words than actual commands.

“so,” señor begins, bending down to grab a football, “all you have to do is throw the ball and they pss it back with their head, yes? and i will tell them to either go high or low.”

nodding, you take the ball from his hands and walk towards one of the cones that are spread on the field.

blowing his whistle, señor gathers the players around you two, explaining the next exercise in spanish.

“i will do the younger ones, you have older.” he tells you, also grabbing a ball.

“okay, sure.” you look up, though your smile immediately vanishes are you are met with a smiley jude at the beginning of the line.

“miss me?” his teasing made your ears bleed - not really, but you are pretty sure that it would happen soon enough - and you bite back a groan.

“alto.” your voice is low, eyes focusing on throwing the ball the way you need to.

and of course, of course, jude has no problems with passing it back, his technique almost flawless.

this routine goes on for another ten minutes, with jude always throwing sneaky comments in between the times when it is his turn.

at one point, he even stops standing in line, deciding to stand next to you and criticize the way you throw the ball, your pronunciation, the way you stand and you are pretty sure that if he could, he’d also criticize the way you breathe.

“no, no, that was too low, how is he supposed to get that?” - “higher, you gotta go higher!” - “why would you round your back like that?”

you are about to open your mouth, or maybe throw the ball against his face, but fate seems to favor him these days, since your thoughts are interrupted by señors final whistle.

“finally.” you throw your head back and begin to walk to your bag, the heat of the sun finally getting to you.

or maybe it was your nerves that are on the brick of giving up if you have to hear judes horrendous accent any longer.

“we should totally do that again!” jude jogs up next to you, matching you pace as you continue to walk.

you - sarcastically - smile at him, shaking your head, “no need, thanks.”

“no, but, you are shit at throwing the ball properly.”

“or,” you are getting provoked, you knew it, but it was so hard not to, “or maybe you just suck at passing the ball back? maybe you should be the one practicing your technique?”

lies, lies, lies, no matter how awfully you threw the ball at him, jude never made you even take one step to the side, perfectly delivering the ball back into your hands.

he chuckles, “you know that ain’t true.”

“you ain’t true.” your reply is dry, but you couldn’t help yourself.

today was exhausting and judes annoying comments didn’t help either.

“what are you? a kid?” he asks, not getting the hint of leaving you be.

you side eye him, “i’m older than you.”

“yeah i can tell.”

mouth open in surprise, you do the first thing that comes to your mind, which is hitting his back with your flat hand as hard as you could.

jude just giggles, though, finding amusement in your behavior.

“asshole.” is the last thing he hears you say before you walk out the door, not bothering to say any kind of goodbye to him.

“don’t miss me too much, yeah?” he shouts after you, the only reaction he gets is your middle finger, triggering a laugh out of him.

————————————————————

the sound of a spanish pop song softly playing through the speakers is heard through the entire store, accompanied by the sound of your sneakers rubbing against the ground.

saturdays in madrid are definitely your favorite, you think, the heat of the sun, the sound of children playing on the streets and the shouts and cheers from your neighbors around your block all contribute into that homey feeling you have gained during your first month here. you still struggle to speak the language, the different dialects around town not really helping, but so far you have only met people that are kind enough to offer you their help, regardless of their level of english skills.

the sun starts to set outside, aurora rays shining through the windows, creating a calm and relaxing atmosphere in the store.

you hum along the melody of the song, eyes going through the different snacks that are being displayed in the aisle.

bending down slightly, your finger finds it ways to your lips, tapping it lightly, “where is it?” your voice is low, only for you to hear - or that is what you think.

“you should try the olive oil chips, absolutely slaps.” his voice booms from behind you, startling you and ruining the current vibe.

you turn around, frustration slowly creeping onto your face, “what are you doing here?”

“wow,” jude puts his hands on his hips, teasing smile already present, “not even a hello? how are you?”

“are you stalking me?” is your second question, but you have to admit that it is really childish of you. he might be here to get some snacks, just like how you are. but his presence just triggers something inside you, something you couldn’t explain even if you wanted to.

jude scoffs, smile never leaving his [annoying] face, “you wish i was, huh?”

“i’ll sue you, or whatever!” you threaten, already getting worked up.

“for what? being too handsome?” a smirk dances around his lips, a kind of smirk that you want to slap out of his face [do you really?]

“is said handsomeness with us in the room right now?” your voice is monotonous, making judes eye twitch at your comment.

“maybe get some new glasses, grandma.”

you open your mouth for a comeback, but are interrupted by a new, soft voice.

“honey, did you get the snacks?”

judes eyes move to your face, “‘m tryin’” he winks at you - at least he tries, but it mostly looks like him blinking in a weird way.

you focus on the lady coming up behind judes right side, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this woman is his mother. jude looks like her a lot, and without wanting to compliment him in any way, you have to admit that she is beautiful. kind smile, warm eyes and beautiful aura surrounding her, you would entrust her your deepest secrets without a second thought.

“mum, this is my friend.” jude tells her your name, repeating the same process of telling you her name, denise. you want to tell him off for calling you his friend, but leave it out for another time.

you smile, stretching out your hand to shake hers, “it is a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

she shakes your hand, smiling at you, “no need to be so formal, dear, denise is enough.” she tells you.

she turns to face jude, giving him her wallet and telling him something you can’t really make out. facing you once more, denise tells you goodbye and adds that she would like to have you over for some dinner sometime, you can’t really resist and tell her, yes, you’d love to come over and eat dinner. she walks off, disappearing behind another aisle without another word.

now, you focus on the guy in front of you again, his stupid smile making your eye twitch this time.

“why are you standing there?” well, maybe you are rude, and shit do you hate this feeling. jude never did anything too bad for you to treat him this way. you can’t even explain your dislike towards him, it is just something you can’t control, like when you start to dislike a person before even meeting them, not bothering to get to know them anyway. maybe because he made your first few weeks at the center harder than necessary, ticking you off for no reason.

with his mothers wallet in his hand, jude steps closer to you, picking up a snack that is on a shelf behind you, kind of caging you between his body and the shelf. you hold your breath, but his parfume still manages to find its way to your nose. his eyes stare at your face, and though this moment does not last longer than a few seconds, it surely feels like hours, everything going in slow motion.

“we should hang out sometime.” is the first thing he says after he takes a step back, now snack at hand and smile back on his face.

maybe he means well, genuinely interested in a friendship with you, however you still feel the need to get away from him as far as you could, a weird feeling spreading in your stomach after that little moment the two of you had. so you do what you have always done so far, pushing him away.

“not interested, thanks.”

you try to step forward to another aisle, but you way is being blocked by judes body, “no, but like, i am quite fun to be around, maybe you’d finally get a good humor yourself if i influence you enough.”

you roll your eyes, distaste not in the dark, “you? showing me how to have a good humor?”

he nods, a small agreement leaving his lips.

“and, your humor is what? bumping shoulders of others, hitting their legs with footballs,” you pause, recreating a think pause, “hm, what else?”

chuckling, jude mirrors your pose, “well, i think also being a smooth talker?”

that statement tickles a laugh out of you, the sound spilling from your lips clear. your eyes are closed, you won’t see it, but hearing you laugh causes judes smile widen, his cheeks even start to hurt. your smile brightens up your face, your cheeks look full and your pearly whites are present, all an addition to your radiant prettiness.

the warmth he feels is short lived, though, you calm down and simply tell him to get going, starting to walk away yourself.

you hear his footsteps follow you, but decide to not say anything anymore. there is no point of arguing with him any longer, he will be the same annoying jude that you have got to know over the past month. you won’t let him ruin this beautiful evening, everything has been going way too good for that - well, until you met him in the store.

“so,” jude is now walking beside you, grabbing some snacks and drinks on his way, “my place or yours?”

“i don’t want to fuck you, jude.”

“no, no!” he quickly denies, eyes wide, “i mean, we should definitely hang out more, y’know, strengthen our friendship.”

“no, thanks.”

“c’mooon.”

you open your apartment door, frustration painted on your face.

“just,” you take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. “just take off your shoes and put them next to mine.”

you turn to face the footballer standing behind you, excitement vivid in his face. you don’t know how, or when he did it, whether he just followed you here, but before you could notice it you have had led him to your home. he is just so annoying, winding you up at any given chance, that is why you didn’t notice that he followed you home - or this is what you’d like to tell yourself.

you walk into your kitchen, watching jude who follows you put your groceries onto the counter.

“you still didn’t have to carry them, y’know.” is all you say, a silent ‘thank you’ in your unique way.

jude simply smiles, “my mum would’ve make me sleep outside if i’d let you carry ‘em.”

you push yourself off the counter, moving to sit on your couch as you look up at him, “well, now that you’ve seen my apartment, you can go now, right?”

“no way!” jude decides to take a seat on the other couch, “we still have to eat the snacks i bought and play games!”

you lean your head back against the couch, sighing, “jude, c’mon. ‘m tired.”

“don’t care.”

he gets up again, and you hear some rustling from the kitchen, assuming that he is probably getting the snacks from the bags. you don’t bother to open your eyes when you hear him put bowls onto the coffee table, he will do whatever he wants anyway.

you decide to lift your head up to look at jude, only to find his face inches away from yours.

“what the fuck!” your instincts kick in and you do what first comes to your mind, you, well you slap him, hard.

his face flys to the left, eyes wide open in shock as he stands up straight, his left hand now covering his cheek, “bro, what the fuck is wrong with you!”

“with me!” you put your feet onto the couch, pressing your upper body against its back, “what the hell is wrong with you! why would you even be so close to me!”

“you had something on your face!” is his excuse, scoffing as he sits back on the couch, grabbing a drink from the table.

you shake your head in disbelief, not even bothering to answer him. you grab a bowl and put one of the chips into your mouth, testing the ones jude bragged about when you were still at the store.

“does your mother know that you are currently sitting on the couch in the home of a stranger?” you ask, looking at him.

“wait til she finds out you slapped her precious son, no more dinner for you.” he responds, taking a chip from your bowl even though there is a second one on the table.

“boo-hoo, cry me a river.”

“well, did you know that we live pretty close to each other?” jude skillfully changes the subject, taking another sip from his drink before setting it down, “we should definitely go home together after the practice sessions.”

your eyes wander around your living room, going over the different pieces of furniture around, “another friend of mine already walks with me.”

“ditch them.”

“no? why would i do that?”

“to hang out with me!”

“nah.”

jude crosses his arms in front of his chest, lips pouting slightly, “it’s always the elder ones that are so rude.”

“and you expect me to be friends with your childish self?” with how you much have been rolling your eyes ever since you met jude, you’re scared that they might get stuck one day.

“at least i’d keep the spirit of our friendship alive!”

“i pass.”

and though you don’t notice it, a small smile creeps its way onto your lips, gradually growing the more time you spend with jude sitting in your living room, eating snacks and listening to the different stories he has to tell. you didn’t think that you would spend your saturday evening sitting in your home, listening to some guy with a horrible accent talk about whatever came to bis mind, but it feels relaxing, not having to use your brain for something.

you also don’t notice your eyes feeling heavy, slowly but surely falling shut as you continue to listen to jude, his voice deep but softly telling you about his time in germany and how the people there would treat him.

as soon as he sees your eyes shut and head leaning against the back of the couch, he slowly gets up, careful to not make a sound, and grabs a blanket from the chair in the kitchen, draping it over your sleeping figure. he takes the bowls and drinks, leaving them by the kitchen counter before he moves to the door, putting on his shoes. he looks back one last time, just to check if everything is done, his eyes staying longer on your face than necessary. after a final look, he turns the doorknob and leaves your home, carefully shutting the door behind him.

#jude bellingham #football one shot #football x reader #x reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x you #football #jude bellingham fluff #LostinMadrid

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dontexpectmuch · 10 months ago

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hello!!! i know that i make you guys wait, and i am so sorry, but you know, life just gets in the way sometimes! so here you have a really tiny winy snippet of the next chapter! i try my very best to finish it as fast as i can, thank you for being so understanding :))

////////////////

you run after him, hand holding your bag to stop it from sliding off your shoulder, “jude, c’mon just listen to me this one time!” you call after him, fighting off your smile [and the butterflies in your stomach] as you see his steps flatter when he hears your voice.

he halts suddenly, making you almost collide with his back before he spins around to face you, his eyes holding a certain emotion in them that you can’t exactly describe. all the confidence that you held within you vanishes aa you look at him, his whole demeanor making you feel small.

as you open your mouth to force something out of it, jude beats you to it, his voice so deep that it makes your core clench, “you are fucking mean.”

your heart drops, everything around you stills as you kook at his eyes defeated, not sure how to move on now, “jude, i-“

“i really thought you felt the same, like, shit, that was probably one of the best things to happen to me ever since i cane to madrid,” he scoffs, shaking his head, “and what? am i just some baller for you to fuck to get fame? really?”

your mouth hangs open as you try to find the right words to say, bit oh how bad his words make you feel. did he carry these thoughts with him for the past week? fuck, you are the worst person ever, he didn’t do anything to deserve all id this, and you definitely do not deserve him in any way.

#jude bellingham #football x reader #jude bellingham x reader #football one shot #jude bellingham imagine #x reader #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fluff #football #lostinmadrid #dontexpectmuch

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dontexpectmuch · 10 months ago

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Part 5 - Lost in Madrid

author note; i know i made u guys wait for quite some time, but i hope i can make it up to u with this long-ish part. let me know what you think! enjoy btw they make out and stuff, but nothing too explicit :)

series.masterlist

the unpleasant feeling of nervousness mixed with guilt spreads through your body, the sour taste in your mouth making you almost regret your decision, almost.

you have to remind yourself over and over again why you are even doing this, like a mantra that your mother forced you to remember back then. Sweat tickles down your neck and your cheeks feel warm, the distant voices filling the halls finding their way to your ears, as if to distract you from your mission. senor lagardes closed door is the only thing holding you back from going in, it almost looks at you mockingly, as if you won't be able to go through with it.

Inhaling deeply one last time, you raise your hand and knock on the door, a deep voce giving you permission to enter immediately.

“ah, linda!” his voice calls out, happiness painting his features.

you smile at him and close the door behind you, not understanding why you got even more nervous all of a sudden. you spent many breaks in this room, senor lagarde was always kind enough to let you work in here whenever you needed a quiet place to work.

“i hope i’m not bothering you?” your voice is stable, you think, your hands however feel clammy, and you feel your rapid heartbeat in your throat.

senor chuckles, clearly amused by your behaviour, “you could never bother me, how can i help you?”

a sigh leaves your lips, tongue poking out to wet them, “i wanted to ask if it is okay for me to switch teams?”

his eyebrows shoot up, however instead of saying anything he just nods, urging you to continue.

“i would like to see how the volleyball players develop, you know? The footballers almost understand everything, there would be nothing for me to watch anymore.”

you resist the urge to cringe as you watch senor hum at your words, he must think that you are some weird kid that does not know that they want. you remember telling him just how much you enjoy watching the footballers, and now all of a sudden you request to change the teams, fucking paradox [or desparate?].

“i understand. just go to their coach and explain the situation, nothing to worry about.” even though he smiles at you, deep creases around his mouth and eyes, you wish to do nothing more but break down and explain everything, or even ask for hid advice, maybe even both. senor has started to become the father figure you missed over the few years, always going out of his way to make you feel at home and comfortable.

and you? you decide to leave his side because you’re nothing more than a coward, not knowing how to deal with your feelings and this whole situation to begin with.

you nod, lips pulled into a straight line, “thanks. i’ll make sure to visit you as much as i can.”

you bid your goodbye and leave the room, sad smile somehow not leaving your lips as you walk dow the hall to amandas classroom. You need a shoulder to lean on, and though you have not updated her about the situation, you can count on her to be there for you.

your steps are fast, the fear of meeting him fueling your body to move in a pace that got you almost jogging. though you try to be subtle, your eyes frantically look around, avoiding and searching for him, just so you can avoid him and reach your friends room in peace.

“so, everything was fine, but you avoid him because…?” amanda eyes you skeptically, leaning back against her chair with her arms crossed. one might think that she is scolding you with how you sit in front of her desk, hands placed on your lap and guilt written over your features.

groaning, you throw your head back, shoulders sacking, “i can’t be with him, manda. i won’t be here in a few months, like, that wouldn’t be fair”.

everything was just perfect that night, the vibes, his scent, his soft lips and the warmth that spread through you as he pulled you closer by your waist, deepening the kiss in a way that has never happened to you before. his brown eyes were so kind when he smiled down at you, making the stars in the sky jealous of the sparkle inside of them.

amandas stern voice pulls you out of your thoughts floating around jude, making you flinch, “no, you are being unfair to him, not the time or whatever you think it might be.” her eyes pierce through yours, “you basically are playing with his feelings at his points.”

“we don’t know if he actually likes me like that, i mean he could-“

“bullshit, that guy ran after you for months just to be even considered your friend, stop denying the truth.” amanda cuts you off, wording the thoughts you had, but were to coward to admit.

you sigh once again, head in your hands, “well, its too late anyway, i tried to avoid him for the past week, he probably hates me by now.”

“just talk to him, linda. he is a very mature guy for his age and will definitely listen to you.”

you know that she is telling the truth, that you are being unfair and that without trying, you’d never know how it would work out anyway. and though you already knew all of this somehow [did you really?], hearing someone else say it helps you gain a clearer view of the situation.

nodding, you get up seeing that the time has come to move to your own classroom, hugging amanda goodbye before leaving her room. the refreshing feeling of determination takes place inside you [might also be nervousness] as you take confident steps towards your room. you only have to finish this lesson, sprint to the field and wait for training to end, then you can talk to him and get things clear.

amanda is right, though jude is [adoringly] annoying, he is quite mature and will listen to you, and hopefully understand the reason for your avoidance the past week.

what you however failed to realize is that jude can be also quite emotional, stubborn and really talented when it comes to make one feel like they did the biggest mistake known to mankind.

because when yours and judes eyes meet as he walks through the gate, he immediately looks away and fastens his steps, beelining to his mother’s car. you always forgot just how fast jude is, his long legs making helping him move quicker than the average person.

you run after him, hand holding your bag to stop it from sliding off your shoulder, “jude! c`mon just listen to me this one time!” you call after him, fighting off your smile [and the butterflies in your stomach] as you see his steps flatter when he hears your voice.

he halts suddenly, making you almost collide with his back before he spins around to face you, his eyes holding a certain emotion in them that you can't exactly describe. all the confidence that you held in you vanishes as you look at him, his whole demeanor making you feel small.

as you open your mouth to force something out of it, jude beats you to it, his voice so deep that it makes your core clench, “you are fucking mean.”

your heart drops, everything around you stills as you look at his eyes defeated, not sure how to move on now. it’s the first time you hear him say something so, hurtful, especially towards you.

“jude, i-“

“i really thought you felt the same, like, shit, that was probably one of the best things to happen me ever since i came to madrid,” he scoffs, shaking his head, “and what? am i just some baller for you to fuck to get fame? really?”

you mouth hangs open as you try to find the right words to say, but oh how bad his words make you feel. did he carry these thoughts with him for the past week? fuck, you are the worst person ever, he didn’t do anything to deserve all of this, and you definitely do not deserve him in any way.

as your eyes dance around his face, still unsure how to reply to him, jude scoffs, light smirk - though it is anything but a good sign - on his lips as he looks down, hands resting on his hips. he turns on his heels, away from you, to continue his way to his mother’s car. each step he takes makes him feel a stab to his heart, even though you were the one who hurt him, he still can’t help but horrible.

that feeling mirrors itself inside your chest, too, and you decide to speak up, letting any and everything that just comes to your mind, “you were so annoying at first, i genuinely didn’t want to be in any relationship with you, at all.”

the sound of your voice makes him halt, eyebrows raised as he turns around, “is that supposed to make me feel better-“

“and i thought you were some over confident, spoiled and entitled footballer that thought that everyone wants them.” you cut him off, taking a step towards him, feeling better as you see that jude does the same, his eyes looking at yours.

“and it hurts me to admit it, but yes, i also thought, no -i still think that, you were - and really are, attractive, not the slightest bit arrogant and a sweetheart. yes, we had a weird start, but as you kinda forced yourself into my space, in a good way, i came to like you, fuck, i even missed you even though you were standing right next to me.” your cheeks burn as you just admitted all that to jude, the feeling even increasing as you watch his lips form to a smile, the one that he usually wore when he started to tease you for something.

“and that’s why you ghosted me? after that night?” jude takes another step forward, tilting his head to the side. his eyes never leave you, the warm temperature doing no good as a cold shiver runs down your spine. you feel goosebumps spreading over your body, the slight tingling almost going unnoticed because of the emotions you feel inside of you.

“i,” you speak up again, lump forming in your throat. you inhale deeply, “i’m not gonna be here for much longer, jude.”

fuck, have you always been this emotional? you let your eyes look up the baby blue sky, trying to reform your thoughts to make them make sense.

“even though i want it, like, really want to be with you, i can’t do that to neither of us. what would happen after i leave?” your voice grows weak towards the end of you sentence, the bag and a certain weight on your shoulders making them sack.

a sigh leaves judes plump lips, the ones that felt so soft against yours, warming up your entire body even though they only ever touched one spot. you know that now is not the right time to fantasize about the feeling again [there is no wrong time for it either], but the sudden urge to feel them again almost makes you go feral.

“i wish i could understand you.” jude makes you regain your senses, your eyes snap up to his eyes.

that probably means he won’t forgive you, you think, the unpleasant feelings from this morning returning. you should’ve known, why would he even forgive you for cutting him off so suddenly?

his big hand suddenly grabs your shoulder, then moves to grab your bag’s strap to move it off from it to put it on his. you watch his moves quietly, trying to understand what he is doing.

is he going to steal your bag as a revenge? [you definitely yap too much, you admit]

“let’s continue this at mine’s.”

that’s all jude as before he turns away to walk to his mother’s car once more, stunning you to your core.

“come on!” he yells back at you, a few meters away from his past position.

your legs move before you even notice it, quickly following him to the sleek black car where his mother already waves at you happily, which you return just as happily.

“hi, darling.” denise greets you as you enter the car and close the cafe behind you, turning her upper body to look at you properly.

“hey, how have you been?” you smile reaches your eyes for the first time since last week, comfortable air surrounding you.

throughout your entire small talk and the drive back to their home, jude just quietly sits in the passenger seat, looking out the window. his mother tries to include him into the conversation every once in awhile, though he doesn’t really respond to anything.

the pit of nervousness inside you only continues to grow when you enter the home and listen to jude telling his mother that the two of you will be talking in his room. your body follows him as if it is on autopilot. you can feel your heartbeat down to your toes, your hands are cold and your eyes look around his room when you sit down on his grey sofa.

jude puts both bags down next to the small coffee table in front of the sofa, then turns to walk to his big closet to change of of his training clothes into something more comfortable. all while you are in the room. watching him. you should look away, you think, and that is what you do [though you don’t want to].

instead, you decide to look around some more, impressed by how big his room is. all of it is held in a dark tone, greys, blacks and whites present through the entire room. his king sized bed is in the middle of the wall in front of you, two small tables next to each side. he has polaroid pictures of friends and family above the right bedside table, the wall above the left one left blank.

the grey sofa you are sitting on is across the bed, in front of it the small coffee table with a bottle of water and two glasses on top. his closet is on the right side of the room, next to it he has a drawer with different perfumes lined up on top of it.

his room looks like it is cut out from pinterest, but at the same time it just screams that it belongs to none other than jude bellingham. scattered pieces of clothing is present on the floor, some moving boxes pushed to one corner begging to be opened and the light on the ceiling is just one light bulb. a perfect example of what kind of person jude is, you guess.

you suddenly feel the cushion of the sofa next to you sink, jude now sitting next to you. he put on some grey sweatpants and a white shirt, his scent invading your personal space, though you do nothing but welcome it with open arms. you truly have missed him, though you suck at showing it to him.

“you actually like me like that?” his voice sounds giddy as he slightly pushes his shoulder against yours, making you groan as you put your elbows against your knees with your head in your hands.

“is that all you heard?” you ask, looking at him.

jude smiles down at you, taking one of your hand inside of his as he intertwines your fingers with his, “well, yeah. the important stuff only.” he shrugs.

he just shrugged, as if your fears are nonexistent. as if they aren’t a problem to you guy’s relationship. he didn’t invalidate them, you know it. he is too considerate to do so, but you just don’t know what to feel, if you’re honest.

“jude…” you begin, sighing.

“listen,” he sits up, your hand still in his as he clears his throat, “i understand what you mean, i really do. but that’s in the future, and we have lots of time til then. trust me when i say that i am serious about you - about us. if you let me.”

“let you what?” your voice is small, not wanting to ruin the moment by speaking too loudly.

“let me be serious about an us. let me get to know you even more, let me be your man.”

judes words stun you, knocking out all the air from your lungs as you just sit there and look at him. if your heart was beating like crazy when you first came into this room, it surely will jump out of your chest with how fast it is beating now.

“so, you just forgive me? even though i was so mean to you?”

jude pulls you closer by your hand, now your upper body rests against his as your cheek is squished against his broad chest. you feel him rest his head on too of yours, a content sigh leaving him as if he finally found peace.

“i guess, if you-“

“i won’t have sex with you now.”

“-become my girlfriend, but okay.” he scoffs, “you really think sex is the only thing on my mind.” [with you, it mostly is]

“kinda.” you shrug, not even fighting off the smile on your lips.

“so?”

“hm? so what?” you lift your head to look at him, his arms still hugging your body.

“be my girlfriend?” the way he asks you, the way his big brown eyes shine as he looks down at you and the way his lips stretch to a beautiful smile, showing his pearly whites make your shoulders relax.

“i’d love to.” you mirror his smile, putting your head back on his chest and closing your eyes.

“i can’t believe you won’t come back.” jude complains as he takes your bag out of your hands, watching you wave goodbye to the volleyball players on the court.

rolling your eyes, you turn back to home to walk home, gently pinching his arm, “i actually enjoy watching them. all of them are fun and volleyball is a cool sport.”

“cooler than football?”

you just shrug as an answer, teasing smile causing him to bump his shoulder against yours.

the distance to your home isn’t long, the walk filled with comfortable conversations and teasing smiles thrown at each other. you still won’t hold his hand in public, not comfortable at the thought that someone else might see you. and though jude tried to convince you for the past week to just go for it, he respects your wish to go slow, wanting to savor the moments. [if he could, he would push you against the wall, though, and-]

“i fucking hate these stairs.” your boyfriend, yes, your very own, very cool, very talented-

“you’re an athlete, jude, two flights of stairs shouldn’t be a problem.” you grin down at him, already walking up the stairs.

you hear him groan behind you, your fit of giggles interrupted as jude suddenly leans his upper body against yours from behind you, causing you to almost stumble over the steps.

“carry me.” his strong arms circle around your waist, his cheek resting on your back.

the weather today was mild, you’d say, not like the past few weeks where even one step would make you sweat buckets. but now with jude hugging - well more like holding onto you for support - warmth is washing over you.

you try to pry him off by twisting your body and using your arms, but his grip only gets tighter, noises of refusal leaving his throat in protest. if you don’t hold onto the rails, you would have definitely fallen down by now, judes weight pulls you down so much that even your legs start to shake.

“jude, let go!” you laugh, finally getting his hands away from your body to quickly move up the stairs.

jude looks up to you from his position, leaning against the railing. his smirk makes your knees weak once more, the air around you two causing a certain dizziness arise inside you.

“carry me.”

“no.”

“is that your mum?” you hear jude ask from the living room, turning around as you dry your hands to look at him.

he is standing in front of your photo wall, many pictures scattered across it from different places, people and memories. you knew that you would be leaving madrid soon, but having those pictures on your wall, just where you can see them makes you feel even more at home, like you never left to begin with.

you walk around your counter to stand next to jude, smiling as your eyes look at the pictures, all the moments flooding your mind.

“yeah, she’s really photogenic.” you smile at him, heart beating fast when you see him inspecting the picture even more.

“same thing can be said about you, eh?”

his teasing smile reappears on his lips as he wiggles his eyebrows.

you groan, leaving his side to sit on your couch, not in the mood for his antics, “please don’t, i don’t have the energy to feel insecure about my pictures.”

you don’t hear him anymore, leaning your head back against the couch and closing your eyes. though you only stood by the sidelines, you feel quite drained from today. the new rules and names alongside the warm air inside the indoor field making your head pound uncomfortably. you definitely don’t regret that you changed teams, it’s refreshing and you habe always liked volleyball, but you also miss señor lagarde and judes loud shouting across the field sometimes.

deep in thought, you don’t notice how jude starts to walk around the couch, now standing behind you. his hands slowly move to your shoulders, he even has to lean down a bit. you only truly notice his presence behind you when his hands start to massage your tense shoulders and your neck, unlocking a deep moan from you.

“oh, fuck.” you moan again, especially when his fingers start to press against the sides of the crook of your neck.

jude stays quiet, seemingly calm and collected even though you are quite literally a moaning mess [his mind is a stark contrast to his outer appearance]. his upper body moves down some more, until his face is next to yours, hot breath fanning your neck and exposed shoulder.

you shudder when you feel his warm lips on your akin, feather like kisses dancing around, trailing after his fingers as they massage your shoulders, down to your arm. his lips stay on your neck, slowly move to your earlobe as he nibbles on it slightly. you take deep breaths to collect yourself, but suddenly he starts to suck at a certain spot behind your ear, whiny moan leaving you before you can even register.

“fuck, jude,” you speak up, leaning away from his touch to turn around, “c’mere.” you say, more like demand, which he happily does.

you don’t know when or how it happens, for one moment you are on his lap, hands behind his neck as your fingers dance along his muscles, his tongue moving inside your mouth as to explore it. his hands love up and down your waist, coming to a halt on your butt when he suddenly pushed your closer to him. you could feel his strong thighs underneath yours, however one thing that blinded your senses the most was his growing member that pushed against your core.

the next moment, all of it feels like a haze, you are on top of your bed, lips never leaving his as your hands cup his cheeks, deepening the kiss if that was even possible.

you have always thought that you have gotten used to the warm weather and could deal with it, but the air around you two was different, more demanding, more intense. it was like being pushed against jude without a way to escape, not that you would ever dare to leave this situation.

his hands hold onto your hips desperately, and you think it will leave marks if he continues to do so, yet you are too busy to care, judes lips trailing down your jaw to your neck sending you to a whole other world.

how could you ever think that it wouldn’t be worth to try it out? you should definitely thank amanda the next time you see her.

“can i?” judes voice comes out deep, his brown eyes staring into yours so intensely, almost making you lose your control.

such a simple question, and you definitely know the answer to it, but judes entire demeanor makes you halt for a second, just so you can appreciate it a bit more. so simple yet so demanding. so intense yet oh so soft. if you could, you would stay like this for the rest of your stay here in madrid, cherishing this moment throughly with every fiber of your being.

“yes.”

and that’s all he needs to hear before he captures your lips with his again.

here you go!

i havent proofread it yet, but i hope you still like it :) lmk!!

#jude bellingham #football x reader #jude bellingham x reader #football one shot #x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x you #football #jude bellingham fluff #lostinmadrid

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dontexpectmuch · 11 months ago

Text

part 4 - [Lost in Madrid]

author note; btw for those who dont know me. im a whore for angsty fics w no happy ending 🤭 just for ur information hehehehe,, hope you enjoy this part, mwah mwah

- did not proofread!

series.masterlist

shit, you should have gone to the toilet one last time before leaving, your nerves messing with your stomach in an uncomfortable way. your hands feel clammy, getting warmer the longer you hold the bouquet of flowers.

you don’t even know why you feel so nervous, it’s not like you’re meeting a friends [yuck] parent for the first time. you try to reason with it by telling yourself that you simply do not want to be annoyed by judes presence in front of his mother [yeah sure], you actually want to meet her.

taking one last breath, trying to stay calm, you knock on the door and put on your best smile you could muster, not wanting to come off as rude.

you hear plates cling and metallic utensils fall down, before the door is opened abruptly by none other than jude himself. he looks out of breath, chest heaving up and down, you note, but he also looks good [too good, yes you admit].

black baggy pants, an oversized grey shirt and a necklace in the middle of his chest on top of it, his face adoring a smile.

“already in love with me?” he greets you, smirking as he leans against the door frame.

you roll your eyes, turning around to just leave. you can’t even take one step as you feel judes hand closing around your upper arm, [unfortunately] halting you movements.

he laughs, pulling you inside and telling you where to put your shoes, “mum’s been cooking all day.” he tells you, making you follow him to the kitchen.

your eyes look around, the apartment is beautiful, you think, nice view over the city from the living room, high ceilings and a homey feeling greeting you as you step into the living room slash kitchen area, the smell of fresh food finding its way to your nose.

denise calls your name as she sees you walk in, drying her hands on her apron to invite you to a hug which you gladly accept.

“these are for you.” you take a step back to get the flowers from judes hands, handing them to his mother who smiles at you widely.

“you didn’t have to, honey!” she lifts them up to her nose, smelling them. “they are wonderful, thank you.”

“just as wonderful as you are, denise.” you genuinely say back, watching her chuckle as she moves back to the kitchen to find a vase.

“just as wonderful as you are.” jude mocks you, his face near your ear to keep it between you guys.

without looking at him, you hit his chest [should’ve been his face], making him choke on his spit.

he coughs roughly, hand on your shoulder to stabilize himself, “dude, that’s mean!”

“you’re mean!” you draw your eyebrows together and decide to move to the kitchen to see if you could help.

however it seems like denise already prepared everything for dinner, the only thing left is to sit down and enjoy it together, which you do.

the room is filled with laughter and conversations about various topics, creating a warm atmosphere. even though you haven’t noticed it so far, the feeling of eating together as a family is truly one thing that you have missed since you’ve been in madrid, filling your heart with a sense of peace. you wouldn’t tell jude about [he would never live that down], but you are quite thankful for meeting him, him granting you this opportunity of feeling familiarity in a foreign country.

“how long until you finish university?” denise asks, taking a sip of her drink.

you swallow your food, “well, after my internship it might take around eight weeks to get the results.” you hum, organizing your thoughts, “afterwards everything goes pretty fast, i would have to hold a presentation, explain and defend my results and own theories. after that i will hopefully graduate.”

her eyes widen, “that’s a lot, no?”

jude speaks up as well, body leaning back against his chair, “that takes so long, no wonder you’ve become a grandma-“

he suddenly yells, almost jumping out of his seat, “ow! guys no need to attack me from both sides!”

“deserved.” you roll your eyes, sweetly smiling at denise who returns the gesture, asking you if you would like to eat some more food.

“yes, please! everything tastes amazing, denise. thank you so much.” you hand her your plate, watching her get up to move to the kitchen.

“my legs hurt.” jude whines from beside you, making you scoff.

“shouldn’t have been so rude, then.”

“how am i supposed to know that i would get attacked from both sides! my legs are very important, y’know!” his voice gets louder, body leaning towards you.

denise comes back, hand your plate back to, “doesn’t mean that you can say rubbish to our guest.” she comes to your aid, smiling at you.

“wow, you two really work against me, eh?”

“yes.” denise and you say at the same time, focusing on the food in front of you.

judes whining is heard every now and then throughout the dinner, however the two of you decide to ignore him and focus on your pleasant conversation. you help her with the dishes afterwards, while jude takes out the trash. [obviously complaining about how he always has to do the hatd work, you continue to ignore him.]

“i heard that you live close-by.” denise continues your conversation as you sit down on the couch in the living room, half empty cup of tea in your hand.

you nod, [wishing wouldn’t have to] “jude told me that you guys live down the street after we met at the grocery store.”

“best thing to ever happen to you.” you hear judes [attra-, annoying!] voice from behind you, his hands now resting on the couchs back behind you.

“mh, sure.”

denise laughs at you two, getting up to put her cup back. you follow suit, also getting ready to leave as you have seen that it has been already two hours since you came. you hug denise, thanking her for the food and kind hospitality, and also telling her to visit you sometime.

jude walks to the front door with you, watching you put on your shoes, “why are you leaving already?”

you pause, looking up, “eh, it’s getting late?”

you finish putting on your shoes, grab your bag and move to open the door. jude does the same, your hands now meeting on the doorknob, making you pause your actions. you quickly pull back, clearing your throat as you watch him open the door for you.

“want me to walk you home?” his voice is low, making the hair on your neck stand up. [because it’s annoying, nothing more.]

you shake your head, stepping outside, “‘m meeting a friend.”

“this late?” he crosses his arms in front of his chest, once again leaning against the doorframe.

frowning, you stem your hands on your hips, “pardon? who are you again?”

“your bestest best friend?” jude copies your attitude, smirking as he sees your eyes roll.

“‘m going.” your start to walk away, putting an end to this [ridiculous] conversation.

“text me when you’re home! and don’t stay out for too long!” he calls after you.

“yes, mom!” you call back, not bothering to turn around to look at his [handso-, no, stupid] face.

“but what is so wrong of being friends with him?” amanda asks, setting her glass of wine down.

music is heard through the box that was standing on the coffee table, filling the room quietly. the moon shines through the windows, amandas chain led-lights dimmed down, a comfortable vibe hovering within the room.

you sigh, leaning your head back with your eyes closed. fuck, you don’t even know why you’re so against it.

“i just,” you try to gather your thoughts, taking a sip from the glass, “i won’t be here for long, y’know? i don’t want to bond with someone like that only to never see them ever again.”

amanda chuckles, patting your knee softly, “mija, why wouldn’t you guys see each other again? that doesn’t make sense.”

“it does!” you try to defend yourself, sitting up, “i have to focus on my studies, afterwards get a job. i won’t be able to meet him in madrid whenever i miss him.”

“so you admit that you like him?” she teases you, nudging your foot with hers.

you groan, [sadly] admitting that you actually grew to enjoy his presence in the past month.

“i mean, he is annoying, loud, rude and calls me grandma, pushes me away to cheat when we race, throws his sweaty towel at me, and water too, and he-“

amanda cuts you off, telling you to get to the point.

“he, i don’t even know, he is actually fun to be around. being friends with him, getting used to his presence isn’t hard, it almost came naturally.” you explain, pulling your knees to your chest to rest your chin on them.

“but why be so upset about something that hasn’t happened yet?” amanda asks, sipping on her wine. her eyes are on you, and even though it’s the rooms lights are dimmed, you can still see the warmth seep through them, a sense of comfort washing over you.

“but it will happen, ‘manda.” you know that you are being unnecessarily pessimistic, but you can’t help it. “i don’t want to get attached only for it to break my heart into pieces.”

she sighs, “what will you do then?”

you shrug, not so sure yourself. you could create a certain distance between you and him, trying to lose some attachment that you [unfortunately, you would never tell him] have. but that wouldn’t be fair to jude, either. he didn’t to anything wrong. how would you explain that to him?

‘hey, i actually quite like being around you and being friends with you, but i don’t want to get used to you because i know that it will break my heart, yeah, so, bye!’? you scoff at this thought, head starting to hurt as you try to come up with different explanations.

amada gets up to go to the bathroom, hand on your shoulder as a sign of comfort as she passes by.

now that you are alone, you put your forehead against your knees, deeply exhaling. the music in the background helps as a distraction from your thoughts, though this sound of it gets interrupted by your phone. a new notification. you don’t bother to check who it is - your heart starts to beat fast as you think of someone who it might be. but you don’t lift your head, wanting to be left alone during your [pitiful] situation.

you have never had this problem before. you loved to meet people whenever you travel, creating memories with them and cherishing those whenever you think about it. this situation, everything about jude is just weird, you don’t know [or do you?] why he is such a big concern of yours, as if you actually are the moon, turning i orbits around its sun, in this case, jude. you should be friends with him, enjoy the time the two of you have left and then leave madrid, letting him be a new, nice memory.

“still thinking ’bout it?” amandas voice pulls you out of your thoughts, eyes now focusing on her.

you nod, sighing. it seems like it is the only thing left to do for you, sighing and hopelessly waiting around, though you are not sure for what exactly.

“do you like him?” she asks, filling her glass with some more wine before taking a sip.

“well, yeah. i think we’re friends.” you reply, feeling weird [like betraying yourself] when actually admitting that you think of jude as a friend.

she laughs, shaking her head, “no, no, i meant like, do you like like him?”

“no!” you tell her [yeah sure], quite offended that she would think that you would fall for someone like jude [you would].

“then why are you so sad about it?”

“don’t know, don’t wanna talk about it, please.” you lay down on the couch, looking up the ceiling.

your phone rings again, this time thrice in a row. you sigh while rolling your eyes, lazily lifting it up to look at who has been bothering you for the last few minutes.

NEW NOTIFICATION

[from; Jude Bellingham]: four new messages.

you immediately sit up, eyes wide. fuck, why is he texting you right now? you don’t have the nerve to talk to him right now [you always do].

“is it him?” amanda asks, looking up from her won phones display, smirking.

“yeah.” you mumble, unsure of what to do. you shouldn’t let him wait, should you? that’s not very nice, maybe it’s an emergency?

amanda speaks up again, “well, answer him, chica! why the hesitation?”

“don’t know.” you shrug, laying down again.

you hear amanda sigh, but she doesn’t comment on anything anymore, seemingly giving up on the situation. you take a deep breath while unlocking your phone, heart beating against your chest.

[from; Jude Bellingham]: r u home yet?

[from; Jude Bellingham]: dk what u did but mum still talks abt u

[from; Jude Bellingham]: u ok?? wya?

[from; Jude Bellingham]: txt me when ur home

putting your phone back down, you sigh, head between your hands. you don’t understand why his texts make you feel so, how should you describe it, anxious? he doesn’t do anything wrong, he is just trying to be a good friend, you should appreciate it instead of panicking.

groaning, you get up, taking your now empty glass to put it into the dishwasher in amandas kitchen.

“you leavin’?” amanda asks you, still seated on the couch, her head turned towards you.

you nod, tiredly rubbing your eyes as you walk back to kiss her cheek as a goodbye, “thank you for today.”

she smiles, her hand resting in your cheek in a comforting manner, “text me when you’re home, ‘kay?”

“‘kay.”

you put on your shoes, tell her goodbye one last tome before leaving her home, the soft breeze of the night welcoming you. it isn’t cold, you don’t have to wear a jacket, but somehow you can’t help but cross your arms as you begin to walk home. the night is still young, you hear people shouting and talking amongst themselves down the street, music accompanying their conversations.

the walk back doesn’t take long, you arrive just about fifteen minutes later as you open the door to the building, sighing as you see the stairs in front of you.

[to; Jude Bellingham]: just arrived home

[to; Jude Bellingham]: what can i say, moms like me :)

you lay down in your bed, night routine done and ready to sleep. you try to concentrate on your breathing, laying still on your back as a contrast to the chaos going on in your head, not letting you rest properly.

“tsk,” you try to lay on your left side, back now facing your phone on the nightstand, “stupid stuff.”

as soon as you hear your phone vibrate you immediately turn around, the brightness of your display hurting your eyes.

[from; Jude Bellingham]: cool cool

you move to type an answer, though a new message from him comes in,

[from; Jude Bellingham]: were u w dk what his name was?

rolling your eyes, you can’t help but smile at his [cu-, stupid] text.

[to; Jude Bellingham]: his name is lorenzo

[from; Jude Bellingham]: basic ass name

[to; Jude Bellingham]: no i was at amandas

[from; Jude Bellingham]: shouldn’t u be at sleep rn? grandmas should go to bed early

oh you can practically hear jude giggling at his own text, him finding joy in reminding you that you are older than him. you catch yourself stupidly smiling at his text and clear your throat, sitting up properly before texting back.

[to; Jude Bellingham]: was abt to but u texted me

[from; Jude Bellingham]: okok sry

[from; Jude Bellingham]: good night

[from; Jude Bellingham]: sweet dreams (of me)

[to; Jude Bellingham]: id rather choke

[to; Jude Bellingham]: good night :)

fuck.

———————————————————

“guys, please don’t forget to finish writing your team report for next week, ask for help if you need to, please.” you remind your students as they walk out of the room, smiling your way as they tell you goodbye.

you turn around to pack your own things, a knock on the door catching your attention.

“hola, señorita.” lorenzo greets you, smile wide and cheeks rosy, probably from the heat outside.

he walks up to you, kissing your cheek as a greeting before leaning against your desk, watching you as you continue to pack your bag.

“how can i help you, señor?” you say, happy to see your friend.

it has been a while since you last saw him, getting caught up in work and writing your thesis, and well, other people.

“are we walking home today?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, his eyes staring at yours.

“you see-“

“ah! there you are!” judes voice appears by the door, cutting you off.

you roll your eyes, trying to fight of a smile. he always greets you loudly when he picks you up to walk to the open field together, comfortable banter hovering between you two on tour walk there.

“i have a practical session afterwards, sorry.” you point towards jude, who is still standing by the door, eyes focusing on the guy next to you.

poor lorenzo, you think, he didn’t do anything wrong, yet jude always finds way to hate on him, comparing the two of them. [he somehow is always the better one]

“i see.” lorenzo looks at jude, then he turns back to you, kissing you on the cheek as a goodbye before leaving the room.

jude walks inside, rolling his eyes as he points at the direction lorenzo went, “what is his problem?”

your eyebrows pull together, “eh, nothing?”

you sling your bag on your shoulder, walking out of the room with jude following you, “think you gonna score today?”

jude laughs, scratching his cheek, “i will, if you stop directing your negativity towards me.”

offended, you look up at him, walking through the tunnel that leads to the field, “what’s that supposed to mean? i don’t even have the time to look at you.” [that’s a lie, you catch yourself following him around the field more than you’d like to admit]

“you should, though, i am very exciting to watch.” jude blinks - in his case winks - down at you, putting his bag down next to your seat.

you hum, not wanting to ket him now that he’s right, taking a seat on the bench as you pull out your writing block and pencil from your bag.

señor lagarde yells at jude from the field, telling him to get moving. jude shouts out that he is coming and gets moving, hitting your foot with his one last time as he leaves.

the suns heat makes you feel dizzy, and you wish that you would have taken your water bottle with you, instead of relying on the water bottles at the center. your shoes feel tight, your dress makes you want to throw yourself off a bridge and your hair isn’t looking as good as you wish it did.

“we should definitely cook together like, at least once.” jude throws in as the two of you walk past a restaurant.

you don’t register what jude says, “yeah, sure.”

“wait, really?” his voice sounds surprised at your agreement, and suddenly you feel awake, the feeling of having said something that you might regret sinking in.

“uh, wait, what did you say?”

“nah,” jude shakes his head, mischievously smiling at you, “can’t take it back now.”

“jude,” you whine, hating yourself for giving him such power, “c’mon dude, i’m tired.”

“don’t care.”

you come to a halt in front of the apartment building, getting ready to say goodbye to him, but he speaks up again, sounding too excited for your liking.

“let’s do it now, i’m ready.”

fuck, did you actually agree to sleep with him? is this why he won’t tell you?

nervously, you back off, “listen jude, i didn’t mean it, i mean yeah, you’re nice, but i really don’t want to-“

“c’mon, cooking together is actually really cool, i’m not that bad, ask mum.”

you feel relief wash over you, like a ton has been lifted up from your shoulders. suddenly, the grass looks greener, the birds chirp sweeter, the sky looks cleaner, today is such a nice day, you note, everything is just amazing-

“hello?” jude flicks your forehead, pulling you out of your daydreams as you cover your forehead with your hand, offended by his actions.

“dude!”

“let’s go, c’mon!” he tells you once more. you decide to give him, otherwise he won’t stop annoying you.

you open the door and the two of you walk up, jude tries to make you trip once, you alap the back of his head, but you safely arrive at your apartment door. opening it, you take of your shoes, you move to the kitchen while jude goes to the bathroom. looking through your fridge, you take out a few ingredients to cook some pasta with vegetables, simple but tasty.

you wait for jude to come back before you also go to the bathroom to freshen up, then you quickly get changed into something more comfortable.

“where’s your-“ jude walks into your room as you are in the middle of putting on your shirt, stopping mid sentence. “oh, fuck.” he shuts the door fast, an awkward apology leaving his mouth.

quickly putting on the shirt and taking a deep breath, you walk out the room to find jude awkwardly standing next to your door, his hands placed in front of him.

“‘m genuinely sorry, dude, like, i should have knocked.” he apologizes once more, his behavior making you smile. [because he looks stupid, not cute.]

“it’s fine, nothing to worry about.” you try to lift the mood by bumping your hips against his, winning a smile.

you walk back to the kitchen and start to give him the instructions to prepare the vegetables, yourself focusing on the sauce and the pasta.

it is like athletes getting in ‘the zone’, jude and you entirely focusing on your tasks at hand. you wanted to put on some music, but somehow the thought falls short, now the sound of you two working and moving around the kitchen filling the room. it’s nice, you don’t have the need to fill in the silence with small talk, since it doesn’t make you feel awkward. you hear jude hum the melody of a song and decide to listen to that, though it sounds rough.

“this big enough?” judes voice us soft, he moves next to you to show you the size of the tomato he cut, his body’s heat closing around you, relaxing at his closeness.

“yeah, just make sure that it doesn’t get too small.” you tell him, still stirring the sauce.

“yes, chef.” he salutes, continuing to cut up the vegetables.

everything goes on really well, the pasta looks great, the sauce tastes good and the vegetables are done. you plate the food and ask jude to take them to the table, which he does. as he comes back to put a dirty knife into the sink, you feel his big hand on the small of your back.

only when he moves back to the table you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest.

without further ado, you sit down around the table, “buen provecho.”

“you too.” jude immediately puts some of it into his mouth, groaning [literally moaning] at its taste.

though you agree with him that it tastes good, you don’t moan, but laugh at jude for shoving the food in to his mouth.

“the food won’t run away, y’know.” your teasing makes him look up from his plate, like a deer caught in the middle of the road.

“it’s so good.” his cheeks are full of food, however his sentence comes out clear.

a laugh escapes from your lips, somehow this entire situation is just funny to you. if someone would’ve told you two months ago that you would cook and eat dinner with jude bellingham during your internship, you’d pay their therapy from your own money. but now, look after you. here you are, eating some delicious pasta, the sun setting in the background and jude calling your name over and over again because you won’t listen to him. [you leaned how to ignore him]

“yes, jude?” you decide to answer him, his voice starting to irritate your ears.

“what are we gonna eat first dessert?”

“you leaving will be my dessert.” you sarcastically smile at him.

jude slumps back against his chair, exaggerated sigh leaving his mouth, “you were supposed to say ‘you’”

“tsk, you? where are you a dessert?” you can already feel your eye start to twitch, knowing that he will annoy you until you do as he says.

clapping his hands once, jude laughs, leaning forward, “people on the internet have other opinions, though.”

“great.”

you get up to clean your plate, not bothering to continue this [stupid] conversation.

jude appears next to you as you rinse your glass, plate at hand, “soo, ice cream?”

“don’t you miss your family?” judes side profile is highlighted by the moonshine, the many stars in his eyes now present in the deep blue sky.

though it is still warm outside, you have a thin blanket draped over your shoulders, ice cream bowl sits empty on the little table between jude and yourself.

“don’t you miss leaving me alone.” you respond, bith of you aware that you don’t actually mean it. [you do, you’re really tired and want to sleep].

“answer me, jalapeño.”

you scoff, turning your head to look at him, “that’s a stupid name.”

he turns to look at you as well, sleepy smile on his lips, “suits you, though.”

“no.”

“answer my question.”

you take a second to think, “well, yeah, i guess.”

“you guess?” judes eyes follow you as you get up to lean against the rail on the small balcony, eyes looking down at the street.

you hear him get up as well, his body now next to yours, its heat slowly coming your way. you have to fight the urge to lean against him, not wanting to cross any boundaries.

“i do, i really miss my mum and my nephew,” you begin, the thought of your two year old nephew making you smile, “but i also love it here. i think i’ll even sadder to leave madrid than i was when i left home.��

jude hums in understanding, softly bumping his body against yours, “it’s because of me, right? i’m just so amazing, i’d miss me too.”

“tsk, yeah sure.” [it’s a lie]

the sound of a car passing by fills the silence between you, and you feel judes body slowly lean against yours, staying there. you don’t bother telling him to move away [you don’t want to], your body starts to tingle, warmth spreading through it. even though the night is calm, your mind is anything but that, different scenarios passing through your mind as you try to concentrate on anything but judes body. you feel his finger touching yours, slowly moving up your arm. you feel the hair on your neck stand up, heart rate picking up and each breath like its fueling the fire inside of you. you know he feels it, too, his finger is shaking as it moves up to your back, hand now caressing your neck.

you turn to look at jude, he does the same, it feels oh so slow as you two near each other, his eyes moving from your eyes down to your lips and back up, you feel it down to your feet, the tingling now numbing all of your senses. jude leans down, your faces now centimeters apart as he closes his eyes. you tilt your head to the side, feeling his breath on your skin as you also close your eyes.

the moon slowly disappears between you two, and you move to close the gap until -

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