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.
╰ In which You’re just obsessed with your boyfriends abs and muscles..
Warnings Fluff, no smut but some suggestive stuff implied, reader being touchy around Jobe’s family (not that they notice or smth), use of y/n, established relationship, muscle kink(?), use of pet names (barely), kissing abs, pda, 1.1k words
Jobe B. masterlist
Being on a vacation with Jobe felt like a dream, but having his entire family around didn’t exactly help the constant ache of neediness that pulsed through you whenever Jobe was near.
You really loved it, the opportunity to grow closer with his parents, to laugh with Jude and his girlfriend, and to experience Greece’s breathtaking islands from the deck of a private boat was something you’d cherish forever.
But sometimes, you wished the boat was just for the two of you, where you didn’t need to behave. Because right now, all you could focus on was your boyfriend.
And especially focus on his toned abs. And muscles.
Back home, Jobe was well aware of how much you enjoyed his abs and muscles, probably way more than he did himself. And he didn’t blame you one bit. In fact, he silently thanked football every single day for sculpting this body, because the way your eyes devoured him, it was worth every training session.
But what he wasn’t aware of was that you were thinking like this right now, surrounded by his family. He obviously had no clue.
Jobe stood at the railing in nothing but navy swim trunks, the sun kissing every inch of his body. When he pointed out a distant island to his dad and Jude, his muscles flexed naturally with the movement.
You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from staring too obviously, your cold iced tea sat forgotten in your hands as you tried your best to put your attention to his mother and Ashlyn talking, rather than staring at Jobe.
When Jobe and Jude finally sat down at the foredeck, leaning slightly back on their arms with their legs stretched out in front of them, their dad came over to join the conversation with you, his mom, and Jude’s girlfriend. You took the opportunity to excuse yourself from the group, murmuring something about the sun getting stronger.
You reached into your bag for the bottle of sunscreen and walked toward Jobe. He looked up at you with a smile as you approached. “You should put some sunscreen on.” You said softly, holding up the bottle.
“Oh yeah, thanks, babe!” Jobe replied, reaching out his hand to take it from you.
You smiled sweetly, pulling it back just out of reach. “I’ll help.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, but he was more than happy to get your help. He moved a little, giving you more space. You started with his back to save the best for last, smoothing the lotion over his broad shoulders and the defined muscles along his spine.
Once his back was done, you moved around to face him. You squeezed a generous amount of sunscreen into your palms, rubbing them together before reaching for his stomach. The moment your palm made contact with his warm skin, Jobe instinctively squeezed his abs, the cool lotion making his muscles tense and ripple beneath your touch.
You bit back a grin, feeling every ridge and line move under your hands.
You used both hands now, spreading the sunscreen in smooth strokes. You tried to keep it subtle, tracing the defined squares of his sixpack, letting your fingertips glide along the deep cuts at his sides, but it was impossible to keep your hands away.
Just as you finished, Jude turned toward you. “Y/n, you doing full service today? Mind putting some on me too?”
You straightened up, wiping your hands on a towel, and gave him a playful eyeroll. “Fine..” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.
Later when you all were back at the beach, Jobe laid comfortably on a sunbed under a large umbrella. You sat right beside him near his thighs, the two of you talking quietly while his family laughed in the water a good distance away.
Without a thought, you reached out and placed your hand on his stomach again. You didn’t feel like there was a need to be careful now, your fingers traced the hard planes of his abs slowly, feeling the firm ridges move under your touch as he breathed.
Jobe continued talking about tomorrow’s plans as if nothing was happening. When he finished his sentence, you looked up at him with a soft smile. “You know you look so good today!” You complimented him.
Jobe’s grin widened, his eyes crinkling in a charming way you loved. “Really? Thank you, babe. You’re just as beautiful as you always are,” he cut himself off. “— Actually, even more with this sun on you.”
“Thank you, baby!” You replied, still running your palm over his warm stomach. “But really.. even your abs have got me so distracted today.”
He let out a low laugh, the sound vibrating under your hand. “Are you really this worked up with everyone around?” He teased lightly.
You jokingly glanced around, checking the shoreline. His family was still happily swimming. “I don’t see anyone around right now?!” You said innocently.
“Yeah, not right now.” Jobe replied, raising an eyebrow. “But on the boat? That was my whole family right there.”
“So?” you shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips.
You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the center of his stomach, then another, and another, trailing your lips over the defined muscles. Jobe’s hand found its way into your hair, holding it gently, his fingers threading through the strands as you worshipped his abs with kisses.
When you finally made your way up to his lips, he happily pulled you closer, his hand moving to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. It was sweet, his mouth moving against yours. When you started to pull away after a moment, he chased your lips with a few soft pecks, making you smile against him.
When he finally let you pull away after the few more pecks, you were both smiling. You leaned forward slightly on the sunbed and reached into the back pocket of your shorts, pulling out your phone. “Let me take a picture of you.” You said, already opening the camera app.
Jobe raised an eyebrow, still lounging back against the cushions. “Is there any particular reason you would need to take a picture of me right now?”
You grinned, tilting your head. “Do I have to have a reason to take a picture of my boyfriend?” you asked, deliberately dragging out the word ‘my.’
He shrugged. “I don’t know.. I’m just trying to understand if it’s because of how I look right now, or so you can stare at the abs in the picture later.”
You laughed softly, cheeks warming. “Well, I actually wanted to take a picture of you because you look really good right now.. but thanks for the idea. Now I’ll do both.”
He happily flexed his biceps for the camera, making sure to tighten his core at the same time. You snapped a few shots, adjusting the angle to capture the way the light kissed him. “Perfect!” You murmured.
— This is pretty boring, bec i didn't know what to write, but i wanted to post something for Jobe, so i would love to get sent in some requests for him !!
🐻/🍂 JOBE BELLINGHAM X SHY! FEM READER. Your boyfriend is very good at eye contact, and you unfortunately are not good at it
🐻/🍂 disclaimer. small smut ( dry humping and suggestive talk ) also banner is not mine all credits to @ angelicides and a reminder all of this is fiction
🐻/🍂 req from ano ; Hill cutie il love your works and wanted to see if you could writte something for jobe where his gf really shy and hes really keen on eye contact, so if there ever talking or being freaky hes always trying to meet her eyes or make her look at him. No worries if you dont feal comfortable writing this take care. ( whoever thought of this thank you 🥹 )
COME ON BABY, remove your hands from your face. I wanna see your pretty face.” Jobe groaned softly, grinding your crouch against his hard on. His eyes fixated one you, watching you cover your face with your hands
Jobe chuckled, removing one hand of your hip. He gently removes your hands away from your face, still staring deeply at you
“Come on baby, why’re you tryna’ hide that pretty face from me” he teased, smiling softly. Slowly picking up the pace
You looked away shyly, “I can’t. You keep staring at me like you’re gonna eat me or something”
This only made Jobe want to eat you even more, He loved the little flustered faces you made whenever he says something flirty or naughty
But hey you couldn’t help it, with a boyfriend like Jobe and a voice so perfectly deep. Being with him almost felt surreal
“But come on.. i always finish off seeing your face. And you hiding it away from me won’t make me cum unless you quit— fuck, hiding it from me”. He moaned softly
slowly his patch began leaking of precum, He cocks his eyebrow at you giving you his cocky smirk, “see baby, I don’t go off without seeing that pretty lil face of yours. So just look at me aye’?”
you gasped a little, peeking down at the wet patch on Jobe’s pants. eyes immediately locking with jobe, even though you weren’t used to eye contact
yet you some how always mange to lock eyes with him even when you try not to. “There she is.. my pretty girl finally looking at me.” Jobe teased, trying his best not to smile but failed miserably, watching you become a moaning mess on his hard on.
he let out a soft chuckle, hands still glued to your hips. making you raise an eyebrow at him, “what’s funny?”
“nothing, it’s cute how you managed to look at me” he giggled
“Im about ten seconds away from getting up and cockblocking you”
“please don’t”
a/n. : I don’t like this bc it wasn’t proofread but um this is all I can feed y’all ( just kidding )
jobe was a jealous person. not in an annoying way or a toxic way, but whenever a man approached you his hand would move to your waist or he would grab your hand and kiss it.
he had the constant need of proving to the world that you were his and he was yours.
one day after training he was in the locker room with some of his teammates talking about the session when he heard from afar your name, his auditive senses immediately poured their full focus on the man that was talking about you. his girlfriend, the one everyone knew was his girlfriend.
“she’s hot” jobe frowned when he heard that. he still didn’t look, but he recognised the voice.
“she is jobe’s girlfriend” one of the guys that was talking with him said, the other two hummed in agreement.
“yeah, well, i think she could do better”
jobe didn’t do anything but his hands tightened on his sides and he clenched his jaw. he did his routine and left the facility as fast as he could. while driving to your shared flat his mind was wandering and every time he thought about him thinking of you, jobe’s blood boiled.
when jobe opened the door to the flat he saw you sitting on the sofa, your legs tucked under your body, your head resting on your hand and your whole focus on the big screen of the television. jobe smiled, and walked towards you.
“hi, baby” you said and opened your arms as a sign for him to hug you. “how was your day?”
jobe hugged you and mumbled something in your neck. his warm hands sneaked under your shirt and caressed your back. he didn’t tell you, but during the whole evening he stayed by your side and at night he hugged you tighter than usual.
the next day you and jobe had planned for you to go pick him from training and then go for dinner. the thought of telling you to change the plans crossed his mind but he didn’t.
when you arrived you waited for jobe outside your car. after a couple of minutes you heard your name being called. you looked up and saw a guy you didn’t recognise. before you could say anything you heard jobe.
“hi, darling” he approached you, grabbed your waist and gave you a kiss on your lips.
when he broke the kiss he looked over to the other guy, “sorry, we have to go” his voice thicker than usual, jobe kissed you again and opened the door of the car for you.
when you were inside he turned around. “she is my girlfriend and i don’t appreciate you saying you want to be with her” and with that, he walked to the other side of the car and drove both to dinner.
hellooo, can I request a Jobe x reader where clingy Jobe, doesn’t let you leave bed in mornings bc he insists you wake up “too early” even though it’s 12 at noon, he often traps you with cuddles begging you to stay “just five more minutes” which turns into hours, but he’s quick to get embarrassed when Jude bursts into the room unannounced telling him that they’re mum is calling him to come downstairs for smth (this could be in like they’re family house or smth, like reader is staying with them for a while), I loved ur most recent Jude fic so much btw!!
Cuddly
masterlist
summary: your boyfriends dont want to stop cuddling you. until someone errupt in the room
warnings: fluff, kissing.
a/n: thank you so much for the req omg🥹🥹! and THANK YOU for nearly 200 followers thats crazy. this is so short omg. 😆 working on reqs! send more reqs, open.
—
By the time you opened your eyes, sunlight was already spilling through the curtains.
You blinked at the clock on the bedside table.
11:38 am.
"jobe."
he muffled something about five minutes, head deep into your neck, breathing you.
"you said that at least five times."
"but I mean it this time."
"youre meaning in for the fifth time?" you laughed despote yourself
"..yeah." he pulled back to look at you "its different." he kissed your cheek before going back deep into your neck.
you sighed but held him anyway. "jo-"
"five more minutes.."
you sighed. "ok. just five."
you felt him smile victoriously into your neck.
you once again tilted your head to look at the clock.
12:00 am.
you patted his back "cmon. its been at least twenty minutes." you tried to get up but he slide on top of you, his muscular body pressed against your smaller one.
he chuckled.
"I cant move."
"I know."
"youre heavy."
"mhm."
"I cant breath."
"too bad, cause I can." he kissed your neck
"you’re actually the clingiest person ever." you caressed his back gently.
"I know" he said, almost sounding proud.
"youre not even ashamed?"
"not even a little." he pulled back looking at your face. "why would I be ashamed of showing my love to the only woman in my lif—"
A loud knock barely had time to sound before the bedroom door swung open.
"jobe, Y/N. its nearly—" His eyes landed on the two of you tangled beneath the duvet.
Jobe was still on your body, almost hiding you, he could see your legs around his waist.
Silence.
"seriously..?" jude laughed hiding with with a cough.
jobe didnt move. "what."
"she clearly cant breath."
"why do you care?"
"you kidnapped her."
"I have not."
jude blinked "..youre unbelievable."
you tried to hide your laugh. "Ive been awake since 11am.
jude eyes closed a second, he held a hand on his chest. "I know" he sighed "I heard it from the hallway."
jobe finally looked at his brother. "sorry?"
"everyone heard actually." he grinned.
your boyfriend’s ear turned bright red. "no they couldnt."
"they totally did."
from downstairs, his mom called out, "jobe! stop keeping Y/N hostage and come eat!"
you laughed, head throwing back, whole body shaking.
jude grinned and crossed his arms "told ‘ya."
jobe groaned into your neck. "Im never leaving my room again.."
"wasnt that the plan from the beginning?" you teased, moving him off your body as softly as you could.
"maybe."
"no more « five more minutes huh?" jude teased, grinning.
"shut up!" jobe threw a pillow at him and jude caught it.
jude threw it back and walked out, closing the door.
jobe stayed quiet for a moment.
"five more minutes?" he wrapped both arm around your waist, kissing your neck.
you laughed. "youre impossible."
"and youre still here. they can wait."
you rolled your eyes and stayed in his arms « just five more minultes. »
Summary ~ You are obsessed with wearing short things in the summer, you felt confident and they were just too cute to pass up. Jobe never had an issue with your style, but he can't help but feel a little jealous when you pull up to his practice wearing them.
Warnings/Tags ~ Established relationship, fluff, slightly jealous Jobe, cursing, slightly suggestive, use of y/n, very short.
Word count ~ 582
A/N ~ Enjoy these crumbs while I try and write another fanfic for Jobe. Also if ANYY writer sees this I need to know if I should write for someone else before publishing my next Jobe fic. That'd be three Jobe fanfics in a row and now I'm feeling like I'm doing to much and now you guys hate me, lmk lmk.
You loved mini skirts and booty shorts, that much was clear to anyone that knew you. The moment the weather warmed up, it was suns out, buns out. You couldn't resist them, and it had become a bit of a tradition since the summer you turned 18. The moment you got a boyfriend, everyone expected you to retire the short clothing and dress less revealing.
But Jobe didn't mind one bit.
He supported you in everything you wore. Hell, he even helped you pick out a couple of your outfits. He knew you dressed in what you felt confident in, and who was he to tell you not to dress a certain way just because he was in the picture? It's not like you walked out of the house in nothing but a piece of yarn.
You hadn't ever been around his teammates wearing anything like that. Until today at least.
Now here you are, watching your man train wearing a mini skirt—the ones that complimented your figure just right—and a fitted graphic t-shirt.
You were distracting him and you didn't even realize, flashing him an innocent smile whenever you caught him staring, oblivious to the way you were making him feel.
The moment the boys were given a break, he was making his way over to you. Nearly there before something stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Y/n has the ass of an angel." he heard from behind him.
Did he hear that correctly?
"He's one lucky guy, that ass is perfect." another man agreed.
He definitely heard that correctly.
It wasn't like Jobe was insecure, he was far from it. He was well aware of how attractive he was and he knew that you weren't going anywhere, but that didn't mean that he was immune to jealousy.
It certainly didn't mean that he would allow someone to say anything like that about his lover. Because he did not play about you.
"Oy, mate, let's keep the comments in our head." he said, his accent thick, "i'm well aware of how my girlfriends arse looks, I see it everyday."
And with that, he was back on track; leaving the two men quiet as he walked off.
"What was that about?" you asked, wrapping your arms around his neck.
His body was hot, warmth radiating off his sticky skin. Beads of sweat trickled down his temple as he hugged you back.
"They said your arse was perfect, had to remind em that you were off the market." he muttered, hand gripping your ass possessively.
The act made your cheeks heat up. You absolutely loved it when he got jealous.
"I am going to have to agree with them though, it does looks amazing, doesn't it?"
"Oh, absolutely." he smiled, placing a soft kiss on your lips.
You giggled, his hand squeezing your waist.
"It's yours, so what they say doesn't matter to me."
He hummed, content, lowering his head; lips brushing over your ear.
"I'll show you just how good you look when we get home." he whispered, delivering a quick slap to your backside.
His words sent waves of electricity down your spine. He never failed to get you weak in the knees.
He gave you one last kiss before parting, jogging back to his teammates. Acting as if he hadn't said something dirty seconds prior.
You didn't call his bluff, because you knew that he wasn't joking.
And boy, were you excited for when you got home.
A/N ~ so, this is really short and I KNOW yall are probably sick of the Jobe fanfics but like this anyway... currently 4:24 am finishing this and it surprisingly took me a long time despite it being so short. I just SUCK at writing.
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.
