Gelato and Italian Linen
jobe bellingham x reader
masterlist
pairing: footballer!jobe x reader, fluff word count: ~1.7k warnings/notes: swearing, teasing, banter, “just friends”, in denial friends-to-lovers, domestic summary: family friends with the bellinghams means really nice holidays on amalfi coast and absolutely no concept of personal space bc jobe’s bed is more comfortable than yours a/n: hiii mlsss, this is my first fic ever, lowk kinda nervous, pls excuse any typos and my australian grammar and spelling if you can spot it, im sooo excited to finally share my writing ! !
Having family friends has its perks.
… maybe the fact that your family friends are a couple of international footballers had a little something to do with it. But nonetheless.
Perks.
Perks that meant here you were, sprawled diagonally across a pristine white queen bed. Your back– swallowed by a couple hundred ridiculously plush pillows while the sun-drenched Amalfi Coast peeked through linen curtains.
The room was objectively gorgeous. Like, disgustingly so. The kind of gorgeous that made you feel vaguely poor although you were currently lying on imported Italian linen. The room smelled faintly of salt air and old stone, a scent deeply embedded in the porous warmth of the earthy clay tiles sweeping across the floor. The ocean view broke against crisp white walls; the vast Mediterranean ocean bordered like a living framed picture. A hypnotic heartbeat thrummed at each wave.
Still, despite the view, you found your way to your phone, mindlessly scrolling time away.
And to be honest, who could blame you?
The day had exhausted you of every ounce of energy you had, in the best way possible. The lingering warmth of the afternoon wrapped around your shoulders, leaving you with that perfect, post-beach heaviness– the kind where moving felt unnecessary. Your hair was still damp from the shower, and the AC was blasting a welcome chill through the room.
You'd spent the better part of your morning on a yacht, swimming in crystal-clear waters, which was just as glamorous as it sounded … that was until Jude started whacking everyone with pool noodles. Which naturally meant you ended up in increasingly aggressive water fights until the sun started to dip lower on the pale blue horizon. Bidding a slow farewell, the golden remnants of what it was still painting the sky in bruising oranges.
Now, you finally had a window of time to waste away before any dinner plans.
The soft rustle of movement interrupted the quiet whirr of the AC, followed by a small scuffle of footsteps and a deep groan. "Don’t you have your own room?"
You looked up.
Jobe stood in the doorway, seemingly taking in the sight of you completely dominating his mattress. He had clearly just stepped straight out of the en-suite shower; a damp towel slung over his shoulders and grey fleece shorts sitting comfortably low at his hips. His hair was still wet, and he had the particular expression of someone who had just discovered an extremely minor inconvenience and intended to make it everyone else’s problem.
He tried to sound irritated.
Tried.
However, the slow, completely unbothered smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth ruined it.
You looked back down at your phone.
“Your AC works better.”
A beat.
“And your mattress is softer.”
Another swipe.
“And there's no one else to bother?” He barrelled another question at you, though the slight tilt of his head suggested he already knew the answer.
“If I had options, do you think I’d be here?” The innocent smile you gave him was almost convincing.
He turned back to the mirror and raised his arms, bringing the towel up to dry his hair. The movement effortlessly flexed the broad muscles that clung to his shoulders; the afternoon glow casting a blurred golden rim across his skin. You didn’t even bother lowering your phone, your thumb continuing its lazy scroll as you melted further into his pillows. The pleasant, heavy warmth of the sun sat comfortably atop your chest.
He let out a low huff, a quiet laugh escaping him as he continued to dry his hair. "Good to know I'm a last resort."
"Literally the absolute last," you continued, raising up your free hand to begin listing the reasons off.
"Jude and Ashlyn went off... somewhere... to do something.” You paused.
“..and I value my innocence too much to find out what.”
Jobe snorted.
“Both sets of parents ditched for a gelato run. And my brothers are off doing... pfft.. God knows." You said, folding another finger down into your palm, listing off all your possible options.
Jobe tossed the damp towel onto the vanity chair before turning back around to face you fully. The smirk was back, entirely unbothered by your breakdown of the house's empty guest list.
"Lucky me, then."
“Don’t get emotional about it,” you teased back with a smirk.
He sighed dramatically, then walked over to the bed and climbed onto the mattress right next to you. The bed dipped under his weight, the sudden shift bringing a wave of his cologne that completely engulfed your senses. It was that specific, creamy vanilla scent he always wore, mixed with the crisp smell of shower gel (thankfully he had finally outgrown his 6 in 1 phase).
Instead of pushing you off like a normal person would, he grabbed your ankles and shifted your legs so they were resting right across his lap, positioning both of you in an “L” shape. He leaned back against the headboard, completely unbothered, and pulled out his own phone.
Your eyes flickered over the scene, your legs tangled across his lap, his warmth fluttering against the backs of your calves. You shifted slightly, desperately trying to focus on the video playing on your screen, but it was a total lost cause. All you could focus on was the calloused pads of his thumb lazily tracing shapes across your ankle.
The silence between you settled comfortably like a weighted blanket.
"Look at this," Jobe murmured after a few minutes of quiet, completely oblivious to your internal crisis. He tilted his phone toward you, showing a ridiculous Snap of Carney wiping out into a pool.
“You’re a proper facebook mum.”
He rolled his eyes but didn't let go of your ankles. Instead, he retracted his phone back away from you, leaning his head back against the pillows as he looked down at you. "You're lucky I’m comfortable in this position; otherwise you'd be on the floor." A small smile flattened across his face.
"Audacity is crazy to be honest, I am a guest, Bellingham. Treat me with some respect," you shot back, though you made absolutely no effort to move away from him.
The quiet settled over the room again; his thumb resumed its lazy, soothing circles against your skin, and as the AC hummed in the background, pulling you under a heavy wave of exhaustion.
“You know what you’re wearing to dinner?” You perked, hoping a conversation would pull you away from your hyperfocus on his warmth.
Jobe didn’t even blink, his eyes pulling back toward his phone screen as he continued his own mindless scroll. "Probably my cream knit shirt and some linen trousers. Why? Are you planning on matching with me?"
"I would never," you retorted, though your heart did that stupid little flutter again. "I was just wondering if you’re a basic bitch… which, listening to that outfit, you are by the way.”
"What did you want me to wear?" He said, his voice a pitch higher than normal as he turned to look at you, eyebrows knitted together. By this point, all pearly 32s were showing from both of you.
“I don't know, just wanted to let you know you're basic as shit,” you baited.
His free hand tossed a loose pillow straight at your chest, though it wasn’t anything but gentle. The movement brought him just a fraction closer as you laughed, and the scent of his cologne washed over you all over again, making your brain feel slightly fuzzy.
"You’re such a bum," he murmured, his voice dropping slightly as the room fell quiet again. He didn't look back down at his phone this time. Instead, his dark eyes just locked onto yours, his thumb slowing down to a gentle, steady press against your skin. You wanted to look away, to break the sudden, thick tension building between you, but you were completely glued to the spot.
The sudden loss of his touch made you want to pull your legs back, but before you could even shift, he leaned forward. The proximity brought another intoxicating hit of his crisp cologne. He sat up, his bare torso hovering inches above your legs as his arms hung over them, a smile ghosted over his face, infectious enough that you felt your own lips curling
“What?” An airy chuckle escaped your lips; his pupils widened like saucers.
“Nothing.” His smile was gentle, the faintest dimple appearing in his cheek as his eyes stayed on yours.
You narrowed your eyes. “You’re such a freak.”
His smile only grew, amusement pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His phone remained forgotten in his hand, the video still playing silently beneath his thumb. You could hear the faint sound of the AC, the occasional noise from outside, and absolutely nothing from either of you.
You stared at him.
He stared back.
And then–
“Are you two coming to dinner or what?” Jude’s undeniable voice calling past the doorway, making you both jolt. Jobe blinked, looking towards the door.
“What?” He called back.
“You’ve got twenty minutes!”
“Oh, for–” You grabbed the nearest pillow and shoved it directly into his face.
He caught it with a laugh. “Why are you attacking me?”
“Because you’re taking too long.”
“You're the one in my bed!”
“And look at you…” You gestured vaguely at him, as though his entire existence was responsible for wasting time. “Still delaying dinner.”
He pulled the pillow away, looking entirely too amused.
“You're actually insane.”
“You knew that.”
He shook his head, still smiling as he got off the bed.
The mattress slowly rose back into place beneath you, releasing a tiny, pathetic squeak as it settled. You watched him cross the room, collecting the clothes he'd abandoned around the chair earlier, before catching yourself staring at the discarded towel hanging half off the vanity.
You followed, pushing yourself off the bed, smoothing the front of your clothes down mostly out of habit. Your phone disappeared into your pocket, and you glanced around the room one last time.
The warmth of the afternoon had settled into the house now, the open windows carrying in the distant sound of the sea and voices drifting up from downstairs. Somewhere below, Jude was already complaining loudly about everyone being late.
“Twenty minutes,” Jude yelled from somewhere downstairs.
“We heard you!” you yelled back.
“Clearly not loud enough!”
“Jude shut the fu—”
Jobe's laugh followed you into the hallway.
©️ theunkn0wnarchive. all rights reserved, all my work is my own. do not steal, copy, claim, republish or translate any original works as your own. all images from pinterest.
