themandaloriansdiaries

[themandaloriansdiaries]

Portugal Pretenders

Virgil Van Dijk x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fake dating, the boys love to tease virg, past players make an appearance, takes place at robbo's wedding (I just made up random dates, forgive me if it's not accurate lmao), begging for a favour, wedding softness, some teasing, alcohol and the consumption of, a few awkward moments, julia and thiago are their biggest fans, some nsfw humour, virg doesn't know how to use an iron, some childishness at the end, all around sweetness.

Word Count: 7.9k

Author's Note: okay, I've come back to bring you all a new virg fic, since you've been living in my inbox, asking for it. hopefully you like it as much as I do.

---

"And this one's for you," Andy says, passing the light green envelope over to Virgil, catching his friend on his way out. "You've got a plus one, make sure you bring that girlfriend of yours you're always talking about."

Virgil nods, a smile on his face as he takes the invite from Andy. The panic fills his head, slowly moving down to his chest as he walks out of the training centre.

Andy's wedding was coming up in a few weeks. The boys have known about it for months, and as much as Andy insisted to Rachel that they don't need actual invites, she still sent them with her husband to be.

The defender finds himself driving home, thinking about how on earth he was going to find someone to join him at this wedding.

See, the thing was, the boys thought he was seeing something. That wasn't a total lie, as he was seeing someone but it ended as quickly as it started. He wasn't sure how to tell his friends that it was over and it spiralled, coming up with random details to tell them every time they asked about this non-existent girlfriend.

He didn't think Andy would go as far as giving him a plus one.

Virgil pulls into the driveway, opening the envelope as he reads the invite.

Celebrating the marriage of Andy Robertson and Rachel Roberts.

Rehearsal Dinner: July 2nd, 2022 at 7pm

Wedding Ceremony: July 3rd, 2022 at 3pm - Evening Reception to follow.

Join us in Faro, Portugal!

The rest of the details were on the back of the card, the invite was white with green accents to match the envelope. Must be their theme, he thinks, making a mental note to see if he has anything green to match.

He gets out of the car, putting the envelope in his pocket when he sees his neighbour, y/n, pulling into her driveway. He waves to her, the woman smiles at him as she pops her trunk open, a million bags waiting to be taken into the house.

"Need some help?" He offers, crossing the lawn to her driveway.

You smile, nodding. "Sure. Thank you, Virgil."

Virgil starts taking the bags out of the trunk, carrying them over to the front door as you unlock it. "I'm surprised you're home so early." He says.

"Keeping tabs on me?"

"No," he shakes his head, cheeks red. "I meant.. I usually see you come in late."

"Closed the clinic early today, we've got a staff party tomorrow, hence.." You gestured to the bags. Virgil nods, helping her carry them into her kitchen.

The two of you were on friendly terms, Virgil often helped you out around the house if you were busy. Despite being a footballer, he tended to take care of the yard work and you stopped by to make sure were in order at his place if he was away for a match or pre season training.

"How about a cup of tea?" You offered and he smiled, "you sure? I don't want to be a bother."

"Not a bother at all, make yourself at home. It's the least I could do to thank you for your help."

"It wasn't much help, I only carried the bags to the kitchen." He chuckles, sitting on a stool by the counter.

You shrugged, "still. It would have taken me like, 12 trips to get all of them, you used your big footballer muscles and did it in one."

Virgil smiles, watching as you filled the kettle with water and took two mugs out of the cupboard across from him; one with little flowers along the rim of it and the other a red mug Liverpool logo on the front.

"Surprised you have that," he says, you drop the teabags into the mug. "What? This?" You nodded to the red mug. "It'd just be wrong not to support the local team." You two laughed, you referred to Liverpool as if it was a rec league team.

You two are there in silence, you leaned on the counter as you stood across from the footballer. The man looked around while you looked at him, counting to yourself quietly. Once Virgil hears your whispers, he looks over at you with furrowed brows.

"What are you counting?"

"Your wrinkles," you say nonchalantly, pointing to his forehead as you count each one. Virgil rolls his eyes playfully, swatting your hand away. "You okay?"

He nods. "Yeah."

"You sure? I mean, you usually can't see the wrinkles on that big forehead on yours. So unless you've aged drastically since I've last seen you, I'd say you're worried about something."

"Is that your official diagnosis, Dr. L/n?"

"Yup," you nodded, smiling at him as you crossed your arms over your chest. "100%, now tell me, what's on your mind?"

"Well," he sighs as he starts. "I was invited to a wedding today."

"And? Is it for an ex or some cousin you hate?"

"No, nothing like that. It's actually Andy, you know, Robbo?"

You nodded, shutting the stove off when the kettle begans whistling. "He finally put a ring on Rachel? Good for them, tell them congratulations for me."

Virgil smiles, "I will."

"Wait, so if it's for Andy, what's the problem? I thought you two were good friends."

Virgil makes a face, wondering if he should really tell you what's bothering him. "We are, I uh.. I need a date for a wedding."

You laughed, "that's what's worrying you? C'mon Virgil, you're a footballer. You're handsome, you're young..ish- regardless, it shouldn't be too hard for you to get a date."

He rolls his eyes at your comment, "yeah well, easier said than done. Especially since I've - never mind."

"Oh no," you turn to face him after pouring the water into the mugs. "You're not going to leave me hanging like that! What, since you've..?

"Since I've been telling the guys I have a girlfriend. That's why Andy gave me a plus one, I really thought he wouldn't do that."

Your brows furrowed, you were beyond confused now. "Okay, you've officially lost me. You're nervous to ask her to be your date? Or - oh my god! Is she a married woman, Virgil?!"

"No!" He laughed, shaking his head at your outrageous suggestion. "I'd never date a married woman, in fact, I'm not dating anyone."

You were getting the milk from the fridge when what he said finally processed. You turn to face the man, "so wait, let me see if I got this right. You've been telling them you're seeing someone but you're not actually seeing anyone?" You say, looking for some clarification. Virgil nods, avoiding your gaze.

"Why would you lie to them?"

"I really didn't mean too! It wasn't a lie in the beginning. I was seeing this girl, she was cool but we didn't want the same things so it just sort of.. ended? They kept asking and I don't know why I didn't want to tell them the truth but I wasn't sure what to say so I played along and now, well, you know where I've ended up."

You sigh, unsure what to tell him. You didn't even think there was advice to help someone who's gotten themselves into such a position.

"That's a messed up thing you're in, dude." You added the milk to his mug, handing him the one with the flowers. Virgil nods, stirring the spoon in the mug.

"Do you have sugar?"

"Mhm hm," you turned, reaching up into the cupboard to get the sugar from the middle shelf.

Virgil watched, admiring you; not only on a surface level but deeper than that. He likes spending time with you, even if it was something as simple as a chat across the lawn. You were beautiful and kind, funny and smart, your humour was witty and you were charming. You could talk yourself out of a crime if need be - you were exactly who he was looking for.

Seems his lies have sent him in your direction; imagine if he hadn't helped you take your bags in today.

You turned to him with the sugar, you could feel him staring at you but he was sitting there, elbow on the counter with his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he smiled at you.

"What?"

"Will you be my date to the wedding?" He asks and you laugh, taking the top off the sugar jar.

"You're not serious."

"I am, what are you doing in 3 weeks?"

"Probably work, but I can't be your date, virgil."

He pouts, much like a child when they're told no. "Why not?"

"How would that work?"

"It's fine, I'll handle everything y/n. You just need to pack your bags and get the time off work. Hotels, flights, everything we need there, I'll take care of."

"Wait, the wedding isn't here?"

"Portugal," he says, doesn't miss the slight raise of your eyebrows.

"I've always said I'd go back to Portugal, even if it's just for a short time."

"See," Virgil says, "it's like my lying led us here, this can be a good thing for both of us. I'll have a girlfriend for the weekend and you get to visit Portugal again."

You can't help but laugh at his justification. "Please," he says, "I'm begging you now. I'll own you big time." His hands clasped together under his chin as he looked at you with big, brown, puppy eyes.

"Like season passes to your box at Anfield big time?" You asked, a raised eyebrow. Virgil laughs, nodding. "Exactly like that."

"You've got a deal then." You tell him, he smiles. "Perfect, I can't thank you enough."

"Mhm hm, now drink your tea before it gets cold."

--

The week of the wedding arrives faster than expected, you had been in prep mode all week; getting your hair and nails done, trying to pack whatever you think you'd need for a wedding.

A celebrity's wedding isn't different from a normal one, is it? Is that what a footballer is? A celebrity ? Can you call it a celebrity wedding- Your thought was interrupted by a knock on the door.

It's Virgil, a big smile on his face despite it being 8am. "Why are you so happy?" You asked upon opening the door.

"Oh, good morning to you too, sunshine. Are you ready to go?" He makes a face, chuckling. He starts carrying your luggage out of the house as you make one last walk through, assuming you had everything and things were in place for the few days you'd be away.

"Yup, all set." You notice he was putting your suitcase into his car. "You're driving?"

"Yeah, I figured it'd be faster than an Uber."

"We've got," you glanced at your phone, "4 hours before our flight."

"I know, it's fine." He waves you off, shutting the trunk before opening the passenger side door for you. You lock up and walk over the lawn to his driveway, getting into the car.

It was a short drive to the airport, the music played quietly and Virgil hummed as he drove. He glances over to see you typing away on your phone. "Who are you texting so early?"

"Playing the possessive boyfriend already, Virgil?" A raised eyebrow as you looked at the man. His cheeks flush red and he shakes his head. "I'm kidding," you rested a hand on his knee. He looks down and you move your hand. "I was just replying to some work stuff, I've never left them for so long."

"It's only 3 days, they'll be fine. Plus, don't they know you're on vacation?"

"Not really," you set the phone on your lap, "I told them I had some family stuff, couldn't exactly explain that Virgil Van Dijk was asking me- no, begging me, to be his fake wedding date."

"Technically," he points a finger at you, "it's a real wedding date, you're just my fake girlfriend."

"Technicalities, Virgil."

He laughs, pulling into the parking lot. The two of you head into the airport and after checking in, the woman sends the two of you down a hallway that seemed like a dead end.

You didn't travel often but you knew this seemed.. sketchy to say the least.

"Where are we going?" You asked Virgil, the man opens the door for you and leads you right onto the tarmac. There's a plane a few feet away and you turn to look at him, dot connecting in your head. "Private?" You asked him another question.

He nods, "figured I'd spoil my girlfriend," he jokes, smiling at you as you two walked over to the plane.

You sat across from Virgil, checking your phone for the millionth time since you've left home. "You know, they won't be able to reach you when we're in the air, I'm sure they'll be fine."

"I know," you switched it off and set it down before the plane took off.

The two of you were eating breakfast, a rather large spread for being in the air and considering the flight was barely 3 hours.

"So," you set the fork down on the plate, "get me the details, who's gonna be at the wedding?"

Virgil takes a sip of his coffee, "well, Andy and Rachel obviously."

"Obviously," you chuckled.

"Thiago, Jordan, Millie, Adam and their wives, Ox and his girlfriend, us and then Trent."

"What, Trent doesn't get a plus one?"

He shrugs, "I don't know, I don't think he's seeing anyone right now. Plus he's in the states, he said he's coming but we have to see."

You nod, the two of you chat a bit more. Virgil updates you on a few matches, how they think they're going to do, what it's like being captain. You tell him how the clinic is doing, how you're liking it so far compared to when you used to work at the hospital. Just small details that might come up in a conversation with his teammates.

Once you landed, Virgil collected your luggage and you were off to the hotel. It was a short walk to the venue from the hotel, the two of you put your stuff away and decided to go for a walk, grabbing a coffee before heading back to the hotel.

The rehearsal dinner was in a few hours, giving you two more than enough time to get ready. "We need to get our story straight," he says to you when you come in from the balcony.

"What story ?"

"Our outfits," he says with total seriousness, "what are you wearing tonight?"

You shook your head with a small smile on your face, taking the two dresses out of the wardrobe to show him; a light blue dress with a halter top, the small white flowers going from the waist to the bottom hem and the other was a burnt orange that was backless.

"I figured the blue was a bit more family friendly, classy enough without being too dressy," you hold it up to yourself to show him. He nods, "yeah, good. It's pretty."

You hung it back in the wardrobe before turning to him. "What are you going to wear?"

"We need to match." He was already searching through his suitcase for the shirt to match your dress. "Do we really need to?" You sat on the edge of the bed, looking at him.

He nods, pulling out the baby blue shirt. "This is close enough, no?"

"Yeah, but why does it look like you've had it rolled up in the bottom of a box for like.. 4 years?" Your brows furrowed as you looked at the state of it. Virgil shakes the shirt, trying to rid it of the permanent wrinkles. "Do you not have an iron, Virgil?"

"I do, but uh, I forgot to iron it."

You shook your head, getting up to search for the iron you knew you saw. You find it in the drawer in the wardrobe, handing it to him. Virgil spreads the shirt on the bed, plugging the iron in before fiddling with the settings. He looks between the iron, the shirt and you, a bit clueless before attempting to iron the shirt.

He works on the sleeve, making it worse than it was before, you watch as he helplessly works at the shirt. You figured maybe you were making him nervous in some weird way so you excused yourself to the bathroom to unpack your makeup and hair stuff.

When you came back, 7 minutes later, he was still working on the same sleeve. Your lips pressed together, arms folded over your chest as you watched.

"What?" He asked, glancing at you.

"You're terrible at that. Do you not know how to iron?"

He sighs, "it's been years since I've had to do it, I usually just get my stuff dry cleaned."

You smiled as you walked over, taking the iron from him and putting him out of his misery. "If I leave you to iron this, you might take the whole 3 hours to finish it. Why don't you go shower or whatever you need to do, I'll do it for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, go. Before you ruin the shirt," you shook your head, switching the setting from wool to cotton. You wondered how he ended up on wool to begin with. "Thank you," he smiles, walking into the bathroom.

While he showers, you finish up on his shirt and hang it on a hanger in the wardrobe. You also looked for his pants, ironing the 3 pairs of dress pants he had brought as you didn't know which one he'd be wearing.

Virgil returns to the room post shower, white towel wrapped around him that sat right below his hips, and you had just shut the wardrobe after hanging up his pants. You turn to find him behind you, your eyes fixed on the man; the water dripping down his chest, down to his stomach and it stops at the towel wrapped around his waist.

"You're staring, y/n." He says, you can hear the smirk on his face before your eyes meet his face.

It's not like you've never seen him shirtless before, he used the pool in his yard quite often, not to mention the glimpse of him you catch in the media or what the Liverpool account posts.

Clearing your throat, you blink a few times before speaking. "I uh, I ironed your pants as well, I wasn't sure which ones you were gonna wear so I ironed all of them."

He smiles, "thanks."

You nod, excusing yourself to the bathroom to shower. You shut the door, back pressed to it for a moment before going about your routine. You weren't sure how long you were in there but you had showered, done your hair and you were mid way through your makeup when there was a knock on the door.

"Can I come in?" Virgil calls from the other side of the door. "I need to fix my hair." He says and you open the door for him, concealer all over your face, hair pinned up with the robe wrapped around you.

He smiles when he sees you; you look so.. well, beautiful but there was something else, a domesticity of sorts. The two of you getting ready in the same bathroom, there's some intimate in the way you were seeing each other right now. Moving in silence as you both did your own thing beside one another.

You break the silence, "how did we meet?"

"We're neighbours..?" His eyes meet yours in the mirror, confusion all over his face.

"I mean if they ask, your teammates. What did you tell them?"

"Oh," he says, wrapping the hair tie around his hair. "I told them we met through mutual friends, my friend, Kevin. His wife knows you and we were all at the same party and we hit it off from there."

You hum, finishing up on your makeup. You were searching for your lipstick, "and how long have we been together?" You find the one you were looking for.

"Almost a year. If my math is right, it should be like.. 10 months?"

The lipstick in your hand, you look at Virgil with a shocked look on your face. "You've been lying to them for almost a year? How the hell did you manage that?"

His lips pressed together then he shrugs, which makes you laugh. "Okay," you nod, "almost a year it is." You turn back to the mirror, applying your lipstick.

Virgil watches as you do it, your hands steady while you go over your lips, pressing them together to make the colour even. "What do we think?" You asked, turning to him when you notice he's watching.

"Beautiful," he smiles, "truly."

"So cheesy," you chuckled, walking out of the bathroom to change into your dress.

The two of you head down to the venue a few minutes later, all dressed and ready to meet his teammates at the rehearsal dinner.

Before you walked in, Virgil grabbed your hand which caught you off guard. Your fingers interlocked with his and it took you a moment to realize why he did that; the two of you were a couple, of course.

It was already full in there, most of their family had already arrived and a few friends were scattered through the venue. You see a few of his teammates but Virgil leads you to the front, tapping Andy on the shoulder.

"Virg!" Andy smiles, pulling Virgil into a hug. "You made it," he steps back and sees you next to the man, his grin only widening. "You must be the famous girlfriend we hear about all the time."

"That would be me," you smiled, "I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, this is Rachel, bride to be." He introduces you to his fiancee. You smiled at her, the two of you exchanging niceties.

"It's nice of you to make it, Andy was saying how he was certain Virgil wouldn't be bringing you." Rachel says, her arm interlocked with Andy's.

"Well to be fair, Virg seemed a bit nervous to ask me to come but I wouldn't miss it for the world. I don't think I've said it but congratulations."

Virgil's heart skips a beat, it wasn't out of ordinary that someone called him Virg, but you've never had. You always called him Virgil, so to hear the nickname come out of your mouth, make him rather.. soft.

"It's my fault," Andy starts, "we did tell Virg to bring you around before but he always said you were busy with work. So I think it's fair of me to think you were fake."

You laughed, "I can assure you I'm alive and real, feel free to pinch me to confirm." Andy laughed at your comment, smiling at his teammate in approval of you. Virgil returns the smile.

"Anyways, make yourselves comfortable, we're going to start the rehearsal soon." Rachel tells the two of you, leading Andy off to greet someone else.

Virgil's hand rests on your lower back, the two of you sitting towards the middle of the chairs, watching as they went through the rehearsal. It was mostly family, his teammates were only there so they could all mingle and catch up as they had been on break for a few weeks at this point.

At some point after they were done the run through, Virgil suggested drinks and you followed him to the bar, his hand once again on your lower back.

"Virg!" You hear someone call for him, the two of you turning at the same time to see who was coming his way. Both Jordan and Millie were making their way over to the two of you.

"Hey," Virgil smiles at his teammates. "Guys, this is y/n, my girlfriend. This is Jordan and James."

You smiled at the men, "it's nice to meet you both."

"We thought you weren't coming," Millie says and Jordan follows up with a, "it's nice to meet you, we thought you weren't real."

"That seems to be the general consensus tonight," you laughed.

Ox makes his way over to the bar, seeing his teammate with a woman he's never seen before. "You must be Virgil's girlfriend, I'm Ox." He introduces himself.

"I'm y/n, nice to meet you."

"I can't believe you're actually here."

You turn to Virgil, making a face at him. "Why do all your teammates think I'm not real?"

"He wouldn't show us pictures," Millie says, shrugging. "I guess that's true," you nudged Virgil, "between Virg's practices and games, and then with my work, we barely get time to see each other and when we do, we're not on our phones."

Jordan makes a face, looking between you and Virgil and you instantly know what he's thinking. "No!" You laughed, shaking your head. "That's so not what I meant."

"What is it that you do, y/n?" Ox pipes up.

"I'm a doctor, an OB actually."

"Oh wow," Ox smiles at his teammate. "She's good, you've got good taste, big man. I see why she hasn't been around."

You smile, your phone buzzing in your hand. You excuse yourself, walking away to take the phone call. You can hear the boys talking behind you, you glance over your shoulder and smile at Virgil, the man's heart skipping a beat. Despite you not being his actual girlfriend, it did feel good to get the approval from his teammates.

Virgil hadn't even realized how long he had been chatting with his teammates, he went in search of you and found you just outside, chatting with Julia, the two of you talking about their kids.

"There you are," Virgil says, walking down the steps towards you. You smile at him, "I see you've met Julia." He gives the woman a quick hug before standing beside you.

"Yeah," you smiled at her, "I'm mad at you, you know."

"What for?" His brows furrowed, looking at you. He's wondering what he could have possibly done.

"You've been hiding me from her, Julia and I are best friends now."

The blonde smiles at you, "yes we are. We've already made plans to get lunch when we get back to Liverpool. I can't believe you've never brought her around before, Virgil." She tells him, her voice similar to the one she uses when she scolded her children, and or Thiago, when they misbehave.

"Oh well, I'm sure y/n's told you about her hectic schedule. Blame her, not me. I do hope you two have fun at this lunch." He laughs, his arm over your shoulder.

The rest of the night was quiet, everyone caught up with each other with their summer plans and you met the rest of the players and their partners over the course of the night. Eventually you two decide to call it a night, heading back to the hotel.

You were by the door, taking your heels off when you saw Virgil stop in the middle of the room, in front of the bed.

"What's wrong?" You asked him, walking over. You seem to realize what he's thinking; there's only one bed.

Not like they've taken a bed out of the room while you were gone but you two had been too tired and too busy getting ready for the dinner that neither of you seemed to register that there was in fact, only one bed in the room.

It didn't occur to Virgil when booking the room that you'd need a separate bed, you weren't really a couple after all.

"I'll take the couch," you tell him, not wanting him to feel bad for his slight mess up.

He shook his head, turning to you. "No, it's fine. I'll take the couch, you take the bed."

You glance at the couch next to the window, it was spacious - that's if you were under 5 foot. There's no way he'd sleep comfortably if he did manage to fit on it.

"You know what, we're both adults. We'll sleep together." You tell him, his eyes widening at your words. "Not what I meant," you smack his arm. "We can both fit on the bed comfortably, no need for either of us to suffer on the couch."

"You're sure?" He asks and you nod, "of course, but hands to yourself mister." You pointed a finger to him, making him laugh.

Virgil raises his hands, "I swear I'll be on my best behaviour," he says, watching you walk into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

--

The sun peeks through the curtains, waking you from your sleep. You shut your eyes, trying to get a few more minutes but you can hear the shower running and then shuts off followed by the bathroom door opening. The smell of Virgil's body wash fills the room and you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

"Mornin' sunshine," he smiles at you, sitting on the edge of the bed. You yawn, stretching as you try to wake yourself up. "What time is it?"

"10:27," he looks at the clock, "how about some breakfast?"

"Yes please," you get out of bed, fixing the comforter as you walk to the bathroom. "Lots of coffee please," you smiled at him, shutting the door.

Virgil orders room service while you shower, you return to the room just as it arrives. The two of you sit on the couch, eating breakfast in comfortable silence. Virgil grabs his phone, "Andy sent over some pictures from last night," he shows you a few photos that the groom to be had sent.

"Those are cute, send them to me."

Your phone buzzes on the bed and you look over at the clock, "shit, I've got to do my hair." You set the cup down on the table and walk towards the bathroom. "Do you need the bathroom?"

"No, I'm good." he tells you, "do your thing."

You walk in and walk back out, leaning on the door frame. "What are you wearing today?"

He smiles, "don't worry, I ironed it and put it in the closet."

"Properly?" You asked, walking over to confirm.

"Yes," he shook his head, watching as you took the shirt out to confirm that he did in fact iron it properly. "Wow, good job. Big upgrade from yesterday."

"Watched a YouTube video," he says, making you laugh.

You leave Virgil in the room, off to shower and then to start on your makeup and hair as you weren't 100% sure what look you wanted to do. Virgil left you alone, letting you get ready in peace. He could hear the music playing, your humming accompanying the melody.

He thought to himself that it was something he could get used to, that his house would feel so quiet and empty without you humming.

The line between real and fake seemed to be getting blurred more and more as the time went by.

"Virg?" You called for the man, he got up from his spot on the couch. He had been ready for some time, you still had an hour before you needed to leave. "Yeah?"

"Can you zip me up?"

You stepped out of the bathroom, hair pulled over your shoulder with your dress on. He smiles, nodding as he walks over to you; the sage green dress hugged your body in the right places, it was as if the dress was made for you and only you.

Virgil's hand rests on your waist, the other holds the zipper and gives it a soft tug, pulling it up to the top. The hand holding the zipper now turns into fingers trailing down the curve of your spine, coming to rest on the other side of your hip. "There you go."

Turning around to face him, Virgil's hands remained on your hips. "Thank you," you look up. He nods, "you look.. wow."

You can't help but laugh, straightening his shirt. "You look pretty wow yourself."

Virgil lets go of you when you take a step back, walking to the vanity to put your jewelry on. It takes the two of you half an hour to gather the last minute things you needed, assuring you were ready before heading out for the ceremony.

It's a short walk to the venue, everyone was being ushered into the church to take their seats while the bridal party was lining up to walk in when you two arrived.

The weather was beautiful, the sun was out and the church was full with their families and friends; they couldn't ask for a better start to their wedding day.

The ceremony was short and sweet, Andy and Rachel exchanging vows and promises, everyone was beyond happy for them.

Most of the guests were now outside, the doors to the church open as everyone was heading out.

You stood next to Virgil by the stairs, letting him block the sun from your face as you checked your phone. You hear the footsteps before you hear the voice. "You're actually here, you're real?" The Scouse accent thick, Trent.

"I am real," you looked up, smiling at the man who looks like he's seen better days. "You must be Trent."

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you. Excuse me." He says, covering a yawn with his hand.

Before you two could speak, Andy was calling the two players over for a group photo. You stop Virgil, standing on your tiptoes to reach his collar, his hand on your hip you keep you steady as you fix it before sending him on his way; a small act of intimacy that you'd only find between a couple.

You had been checking your emails, something you knew Virgil would complain about if he caught you doing it yet again. You were so caught up that you hadn't noticed him calling your name. When you do, you look up, making a hand motion as to ask him what he wants. He waved you over, pointing to the spot in front of him. Your brows furrowed, still unsure what he wanted as the dots didn't seem to connect. Virgil realized as much, pointing towards the photographer and then back to the spot in front of him.

Only then did it click what he meant.

You head over, joining the other girlfriends and wives in the photo. Andy and Rachel were front and centre, the rest of you around them.

"Alright everyone, squeeze in a bit more please!" The photographer shouts, showing you all with his hands to move closer to each other.

Virgil moves you from beside him to in front of him, his arm over your shoulder and your hand instinctively reaches up, fingers interlocking with his.

The photographer gives everyone a moment to situate themselves, "perfect, alright everyone look here! Smile!"

A few moments later, you were all allowed to move. Andy and Rachel were off to take some more photos, there was only about 30 minutes before the reception which wasn't too far from the church.

Everyone makes their way over, waiting for the official entrance from Andy and Rachel as Mr and Mrs Robertson for the first time.

You were sat next to Virgil, Jordan and his wife, Rebecca, to the right of Virgil and Thiago and Julia to your left.

Andy and Rachel were having their first dance, the whole venue was quiet as you all watched the two of them, wrapped up in love and giggling as they whispered to each other mid dance.

You wiped the outer corner of your eye, blinking a few times in an attempt to save your makeup. Virgil turns slightly when he hears a small sniffle. He sees your watery eyes, smiling to himself and leans in to whisper to you; "are you crying?"

"Shut up," you whispered back, turning him back around with a small nudge. "Weddings make me emotional."

The evening was quiet, dinner consisted of everyone chatting, Andy and Rachel made the rounds to say hello to everyone who they didn't get a chance to talk to at the church. Eventually they reopened the bar and the dance floor, everyone started making their way around, mingling, drinking and dancing.

You were replying to a message when Virgil came over, two shot glasses in hand. He passes one to you, "to Andy and Rachel," he says, tapping his glass to you. The two of you down the shots, tequila, based on the after taste.

"Okay, let's go dance!"

"I don't dance, Virg."

"It's a wedding, you have to dance!" He takes your phone from you, putting it into his pocket and grabbing your hand. "Virg," you groaned, the man ignores your pleas and takes you to the dance floor, spinning you around.

Before you know it, the two of you are giggling and dancing, his arms over your shoulders as he hugs you from behind, swaying to the music.

"I'm gonna get a drink," you tell him and the man lets you go while nodding before shimmying his way over to Trent, who looks like he was about to fall asleep in his chair. You laughed, leaving Virgil to bother Trent as you walked to the bar.

You had barely made it to the bar when someone shouted for you. "Y/n!" You see Thiago off to the side, "can you take a picture for us?"

"Sure," you take the phone from him, he and Julia standing together, arms wrapped around each other as they smiled, then Thiago kissed her.

Sometimes you wonder what it'd be like if you had a stable and loving relationship like theirs.

"I thought you got lost!" Virgil says, walking towards you. You shook your head, handing the phone back over to Thiago. The Spaniard then turns, passing the phone to Virgil. "Okay now you come in, let him take the picture."

"Are you sure?" You asked, Thiago was already pulling you into the photo.

He nods, you and Julia on either side of him, the 3 of you smiling as Virgil takes the photo, the camera flashing. Thiago steps out, letting you and Julia have some together, his wife telling him something about they have enough pictures of them together. You laughed, the two of you smiling for the camera.

"Do you want one together?" Thiago looks at Virgil, who then looks at you and you shrug, waving him over. Virgil hands his phone to Thiago while Julia replaces him by her husband's side.

Virgil's arm over your shoulder, your arm around his waist, the two of you smiling while Virgil pulls you into his side. "Alright Virg, give your lady a kiss." Thiago says, smiling.

Your 'boyfriend's' cheeks are red, a flush he can blame on the Portuguese heat or the liquor but you know the real reason. "Come on man, what are you waiting for?!" Thiago says, laughing at Virgil's shyness.

"Leave them alone," Julia tells her husband, rolling her eyes at his childishness.

"It's fine," you whisper to Virgil, turning to him a bit. He looks at you, whispering back, "you sure?" You stood close, the air between you two charged with a mixture of tension and anticipation.

"Mhm hm," your hand rests on his chest while he leans down, you tip toe a bit, meeting him half way when he kisses you.

But as your hand found its way to Virgil's cheek and your lips met against each other's, something shifted. What was meant to be a quick moment blossomed into something real, something raw. When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, a shared realization dawned upon them.

The kiss may have been staged, but the feelings it stirred within were undeniably genuine.

As you glanced at each other, a silent understanding passed between you and Virgil. This fake relationship may have begun as a charade, but perhaps, just perhaps, it held the promise of something more.

Thiago grinned, "perfect. The picture of love," he says, handing the phone back to Virgil. You smiled, your own cheeks now flushed and red. You reached over, your thumb brushed over his lips to wipe away the lipstick left behind. Virgil's arm wraps around your shoulder, the two of you chatting as you join Thiago and Julia for a round of shots.

The night wrapped up just after midnight, everyone waiting at the front to wish Andy and Rachel well, seeing them off as they left before everyone else headed to wherever home was after that.

Virgil's jacket over your shoulders while you walked back to the hotel. Despite the humidity earlier in the day, there was now a slight chill in the air.

"Did you have a good time?" He asks, opening the door for you. "I did," you walk in, waiting for the elevator to your room. "Thank you for bringing me."

"Thank you for coming, you really saved my ass."

It hits you in the moment that this was in fact, fake. You were doing him a favour, you weren't a couple, you never will be. Just a good friend helping him out in a tough situation.

When you returned to the room, Virgil announced that he's gonna go take a shower while you got ready for bed. The two of you moved in silence, you sat at the vanity taking your makeup off while the sound of the water running filled the room. You had to remind yourself that this wasn't real yet again.

All the feelings felt over the weekend were just for show. Certainly Virgil didn't feel the same way you did.

The steam filled the bathroom, Virgil lets the water run as he stands there. The kiss was real, the moments you shared were real, his feelings for you were real.

How the hell was he used to bring it up without it being awkward?

The shower shut off just as you were about to get into bed. Your phone bus is on the nightstand, and you reach over to grab it. There's a notification from Instagram.

juliavigas tagged you in a post. - 2mins ago.

You opened it, checking to see what she posted. There's a few photos from the wedding. Some of her and Thiago, the venue, one of you and her, as well as the one with you, her and Thiago. She also included the one in front of the church, Virgil's arm wrapped around you as you all smiled.

Virgil finds his way to the bed, sitting next to you. "What's so interesting?"

"Julia posted some pictures," you show your phone, letting him scroll through the pictures. "I guess everyone will think we're together now." He looks at the one in front of the church before handing the phone back to you.

"Wasn't that the whole point?" You ask, setting your phone on the nightstand.

"I guess so," he shrugs, the two of you sitting there in silence, the tv playing quietly in the background. There's a million thoughts going through his head at this very moment.

As he looked over at you, in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, Virgil couldn't help but admire your beauty, the way your eyes sparkled with a warmth that mirrored a flickering flame. It was in shared moments like these that he felt a pull, a force pulling him closer, urging him to take that leap of faith. But as the silence went on, Virgil felt the weight of his hesitation, suffocating him with its embrace.

How could he confess his feelings when the fear of rejection spun around in his mind, an unwelcome shadow over his every thought?

He glances at you once more, your eyes meeting in a brief exchange, Virgil felt a sense of longing wash over him, a wave of emotion threatening to consume him whole.

Still, the words remained unspoken, trapped behind the barricade of his uncertainty.

He had to take the leap of faith, he wouldn't know if he didn't try.

"What are we?" He blurts out, breaking the silence.

You turn, looking at him with a confused expression. "What are.. what do you mean?"

"Well.. we.. we kissed, so like, are we.. what are we?"

"We're not in high school, Virg. A kiss is a kiss, no?"

His smile fades, your heart breaking the moment you see that. He nods, turning his attention back to the tv. "Yeah, no. Of course."

"I'm kidding," your hand rests over his on the bed, "if you're asking me if I like.. if I like you, then I'll only answer if you put it into a note, like high school." You raised your eyebrows, making him chuckle.

"Yeah, okay." He nods. The topic was dropped, the tension lifting slightly.

--

The next morning, you and Virgil leave bright and early, heading to the airport for your flight back to England. The plane had barely taken off and you were still not fully awake, nursing your coffee as Virgil's fingers drummed on his knee.

"Dude," you groaned, "I have a headache, it sounds like you're playing a gong right now."

He stops tapping on his leg, brows furrowed and lips twisted in a weird expression. "Can you play a gong? Is that what it is?"

"I don't know, you know what I mean." You tell him, leaning your head back, eyes shut. You barely got all but 3 minutes of silence before Virgil speaks up again. "Do you have a pen?"

You open your eyes, reaching over to dig through your purse next to you before fishing out a pen and handing it to him. You watch him as he uncaps it, scribbling something down on the napkin in front of him, sliding it over the table to you with the pen.

'Do you like me? Check yes or no.' The two little boxes labeled yes and no under his question.

You smile, shaking your head at his childishness and the fact that he took what you said seriously. You picked up the pen, checking a box and sliding it over to him.

The yes was checked, Virgil glances at you with a cheeky smile before picking up the pen, flipping over the napkin and writing something else before sliding it back to you.

'Will you be my girlfriend?' the same yes and no boxes drawn under the question.

Your answer was yes but you wouldn't give into him so quickly. You picked up the pen, chin in the palm of your head thinking as if it was the hardest question of your life. You can see Virgil shifting nervously in his seat, and it's as if you can hear him overthinking his decision to ask you.

To put him out of his misery, you check a box and slide it back over to him.

There's a sigh of relief when he sees you've checked yes. You toss the pen at him playfully, shaking your head. "You're so cheesy."

"You said to ask it in a note!" He says, folding the napkin and putting it into his pocket.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it!" You laughed, the man shook his head and unbuckled, leaving over the table. His hands cupping your face, smiling at you before he kisses you.

Your hand interlocked with his, stretched over the table when he sat back down. "How about when we get back, I take you on an actual date?"

Your thumb brushes over his hand. "Not sick of me yet?"

"Could never get sick of you, y/n."

--

taglist: @thesnailus @alwaysclassyeagle @lettersfromvenus @mehrmonga @callsignvenus @kmc1989 @valentinehrts @pulpfixion @ironmaiden1313 @candacels @muglermami @leclerces @yuoluver @themandaloriansdiaries

#this was so cute pookie! #virgil van dijk #virgil van dijk x reader #virgil van dijk x you #we need more for mister dinky winky! #the note was so cheesy but cute

[themandaloriansdiaries]

THIS MAN IS LITERALLY INSANE LIKE DICK ME DOWN ALREADY??!

#so real #jude bellingham #I won’t say what’s on my mind #but just know this man is fine af

[themandaloriansdiaries]

#so real #they’re so cute together #jude bellingham #erling haaland

[themandaloriansdiaries]

Screaming crying sliding down the mf wall but congrats to Madrid 🥲

#craze is going through it #it’s still city forever but whatever

[themandaloriansdiaries]

I love you Jude but city all the way

[themandaloriansdiaries]

CMON CITEHHHHHH

#craze watches man city

[themandaloriansdiaries]

the only man ever

#oh hes sexy #ruben dias #you slut

[themandaloriansdiaries]

HE DID NOT PUT THIS AS THE FIRST SLIDE

#Ruben is a menace #ruben dias #I love Jude but Ruben was sexy for that tackle #jude bellingham

[themandaloriansdiaries]

i see you i see you

#OH my babies🥺 #they’re so cute #jude bellingham #erling haaland #I miss them :(

[themandaloriansdiaries]

Does anyone have a video of Jude and Erling reuniting from today’s game?? If so please send it my way, I’m just tryna see my bookies together 😭

#erling haaland #jude bellingham #help meeee

[themandaloriansdiaries]

Josko scored his first goal today and it was such a GOOD GOAL!!!

#proud of you pookie #josko gvardiol #he did so good!!

[themandaloriansdiaries]

do i need to say anything

#he’s such a whore omggg #jude bellingham

[themandaloriansdiaries]

Am I blind or did Ruben not touch the ball?? Like how was it an own goal

[themandaloriansdiaries]

Im so torn between these mfs

#craze watches City n Madrid

[themandaloriansdiaries]

It’s taking me out that you actually named it “you snooze, you loose.” I thought we were only joking 🤣🤣🤣

You Snooze, You Lose

John Stones x Reader

Warnings: childhood friends, losing touch, all the boys are so annoying, John is lowkey butthurt, a lot of assuming is happening, mentions of kidnapping, so many emotions, unspoken feelings and regrets, kyle is chief meddler, a little sexual humour, some friendly teasing, jack's love of gucci, divorce, alcohol and the consumption of.

Word Count: 3.9k

Author's Note: this is sooo self indulgent, shout out to pookie who helped me plot this <3 @themandaloriansdiaries

---

Childhood friends; a story as old as time..

Everyone knows how it ends, it either works out or it doesn't. You stay friends forever and live happily ever after or you love and you lose, you move on and they stay a chapter in the story of your life.

That's what John Stones was for you.

Your best friend from the age of 9 until you turned 19. The boy across the street, the one that walked you to school, the one you joined at practice, cheering him on from the stands at games.

While you had been focused on making it through school, John's interests were elsewhere. Football was all he thought of, a ball by his feet 24/7. He joined his boyhood club, Barnsley, and worked his way up until he signed for them in 2011. You still remember his debut, the sense of pride and joy you felt was incomparable to anything else in your life.

After a year of playing for the first team at Barnsley, he was off to Everton. John moved, of course, making it easier for him to be with the team. He still returned home but you saw less and less of each other.

By the time he was 22, he was signed to Manchester City and that was the end of the two of you, or rather whatever was left of your friendship.

Granted you were very proud of him and all he achieved, but it still hurt you to lose your best friend. It wasn't 22 year old y/n that was losing her best friend but 9 year old y/n who used to sit in the stands and watch him practice for hours on end.

There wasn't much you saw of John after that. Maybe a hello in passing if you saw him when he returned home to see his family but it became less and less frequent, until all you had left was seeing his face on tv.

8 years, that's how long it's been since you've seen John. Time flies when you've both moved on with your lives.

You find yourself in Manchester, rainy and grey as always but a familiar feeling of coldness reminds you of home.

The jewellers assured you that your ring would be ready in a week and you'd be back then to pick it up. Half past 3 and you've got time until you need to head to the station to get your train home so what better way to spend the time then to shop?

You find your way through the busy streets and into the shops, picking out a few odds and ends for the house, shopping basket on your arm as you make your way through the store.

A text had your focus, trying to keep in your corner as you walked and texted at the same time. You hadn't even noticed as you were walking straight into someone until you hit them. It felt as if you walked into a brick wall, the person was solid to say the least.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," you say to the person, bending down to pick up your phone before they turn to see who's walked into them.

"Watch where you're going- y/n?" The voice sounds familiar, you think to yourself. How did they know your name?

You look up as you stand up, it takes you only a second to realize who's in front of you. "Johnny," you smiled, the nickname rolling off your tongue as it did many years ago.

"How are you?" The man asks, pulling you into a hug. You felt yourself relax, the feeling of his arms around you reminded you of home in the best way possible.

You take a step back, "I'm good, how are you?"

"Can't complain," he smiled, blue eyes twinkling under the horrendous fluorescent lights. "What brings you all the way to Manchester?"

"You say that as if Manchester is in a whole other part of the planet," you laughed. "But I came to the jewellers to get my ring fixed and I had some time before my train so I decided to do some shopping."

John nods, glancing at his watch. "It's half 5 now, most of the trains are gone by now, no?"

Your eyes widened a bit, "you're joking." Checking your own phone to see he was in fact right, it was half 5 and the last train to Barnsley just left. "Oh shit."

"How are you gonna get home then?" He asks and you shrug. "I'll probably take an Uber."

"No," he shakes his head. "I can't let you do that. I'll take you home."

It's your turn to shake your head. "Well I can't let you do that."

"Why not?" His brows furrowed, making you smile. "You've probably got things to do, big footballer like yourself." You joked.

John rolled his eyes playfully. "Shut up. It's fine. I'll take you home, I can't let you take an Uber, you're too pretty. What if the Uber driver decides to kidnap you? I won't forgive myself, you know."

You can't help but laugh, obnoxiously loud as well. Your hand covers your mouth, giggling behind it as you often did as a child. The action brings back fond memories for John. He smiles at you, his heart warm and fuzzy in his chest.

"What if you tried to kidnap me? I haven't seen you in years, I don't know what you do in your spare time now."

He chuckles, crossing over his heart with his finger. "I promise I'm not a kidnapper, you can call my mum and confirm."

"Fine," you tell him. "You're certain I'm not putting you out by accepting?"

"100 percent," he takes your basket from you, putting it into his shopping cart, pushing it down the aisle as you follow him. "I didn't even ask, where do you live?"

"Barnsley."

John stops and turns around to look at you. "Seriously? You never moved?"

"I mean I don't live in my parents' house anymore but yes, seriously." You laughed, nudging his jaw back around so he can watch where he's going.

The two of you cash out, John insists on paying for your stuff even though you tell him it's fine. He says okay but then removes the little separator between your stuff and his, putting it together without you noticing. You roll your eyes at his childishness, thanking him regardless. Ever the gentleman, leading you back to the car and carrying the bags before opening the door for you.

Certainly his car is worth more than your house but you got in, sitting quietly as he drove towards Barnsley.

The music plays in the background as he drives. "How come you never moved? From Barnsley?"

"It's home," you tell him, "plus not all of us become big footballers that can afford mega mansions."

John laughs, glancing over at you to see the smile on your face. "Speaking of footballers, I saw your last game. You were good."

"Just good?" he teased and you nod. "Mhm hm. You know me, I've always been more of a Liverpool girl."

"Ew," he makes a face, you can't help but laugh; something you did often in his presence. The short time you two had been back together made you feel like a child again.

Sometimes you still couldn't wrap your head around it. John, your John, the little blond boy from across the street was a professional footballer, and a damn good one at that. Playing for a treble winning team and for England, John was living his childhood dream and you couldn't be more proud of your best friend.

If you could even call him that anymore.

It was a short drive once he got off the exit, you directed him to your place. You lived 10 minutes away from your parents, you two used to walk these streets as kids, it was home after all.

John pulled into the driveway, his car looking out of place compared to the neighbourhood but he got out, taking your bags out of the trunk for you.

There's a man coming out of the house, putting his coat on and fishing his car keys out of his pocket as you get out of John's car. "Thank you for preventing my maybe kidnapping," you tell John, taking the bags from him.

He glances at the man and then back to you. "Yeah," he smiles, "anytime." He reaches for his phone, handing it to you. "Give me your number, so we can stay in touch."

You put your number in, telling him to text you so you could save his number. "Don't be a stranger," you say as he pulls you into a hug. "Even footballers have friends."

John laughs, a big smile on his face. "I know, I promise to text."

"Thank you again, for everything."

"Anything for an old friend."

You smile, "bye Johnny."

"Bye y/n."

John gets back into his car, watching as you walk up the driveway to the man who was by the front door. He doesn't pull off, but instead watches the interaction between the two of you. The man on the porch kisses your cheek before walking down to the driveway.

It takes John a moment to connect the dots; the ring at the jewellers, the house that looked like it was a happy home, the man on the porch, the kiss on the cheek.

You were married.

John's heart feels like it's been broken again, in a whirlwind of emotions; disbelief, regret, and a sense of longing. The realization stings of missed opportunities and unspoken words. Every laugh shared, every whisper, every stolen glance filled with love, every memory cherished now carried a bittersweet feeling.

The knowledge that he never confessed his love. It was unknown to you but John had always thought of you as his.

You were his y/n, his best friend, his girl.

No matter how much he tried to move on, despite the two of you never being more than friends, there was no woman compared to you. That's a horrible way to live, he can hear Kyle's words in his head, his teammate telling him he's got to get on with his life.

But how could he move on knowing you were still out there? All but a phone call away and yet he never reached out. He moved on with his life, achieving all he hoped, all but one thing.

He moved on and so did you. No one's to blame but himself.

--

Kyle finds his teammate picking at his lunch, pushing the pieces of chicken around his plate with the fork. "Didn't your mum teach you it's rude to play with your food?" He says, glancing at the younger player.

John rolls his eyes in response. "Oh, we're moody today." Kyle takes a sip of his juice. "What's going on?"

"I saw y/n last week." John mumbles, staring at his half eaten lunch.

Kyle nearly spits out his juice and hits John in the face. "Y/n? As in.. your y/n?"

"Bumped into her at the store and took her home."

"What's the issue, mate? You took her home and what? The sex was that bad? I guess years of pining will do that to a guy."

"Shut up," John groans at his friend's crudeness. "We didn't have sex, you jackass. She's married."

"Oh," Kyle makes a face, and it's as if John can see the gears turning in his friend's head. He knows whatever is to come out of Kyle's mouth next is going to be ridiculous.

"Well, do you want me to beat up her husband? You can run in and save him, you'll look like the hero and she'll fall in love with you and leave her husband."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life," John chuckles, "but no."

Kyle shrugs, taking a piece of chicken off of John's plate and eats it. "I offered a solution and you don't want it. You can't beat yourself up over her being married. You snooze, you lose, Johnny boy."

"Have I ever told you how unhelpful you are?"

"All the time," Kyle smiles. John's phone buzzes on the table, the man glances over to see who it is. "Who is it? Is it her?" Kyle asks, sticking his head over to see who texted John.

He pushes Kyle's head away and reads the message.

To John: Hi Johnny, you're invited to dinner on Sunday.

To John: Well I'm inviting you now. Sunday at mine at 6pm, or anytime after that? Does that work for you?

"Say yes," Kyle tells him before he can even think what to reply. John shakes his head, "I don't want to have dinner with her and her husband."

"What if I beat him-" "Shut up, that's not an option."

Kyle rolls his eyes, taking the phone from John and replying before he could stop him.

From John: Hi y/n, thank you for the invite, 6 works great for me. Can I bring anything?

"What did you do?" John tries to get his phone back from Kyle but he runs over to the other table where Jack and Erling were sitting.

To John: Just your pretty face ;)

"Why would you do that, you idiot?" John smacks Kyle's arm, taking his phone back. "This is going to be the most awkward dinner of my life."

Jack turns to see John and Kyle fighting. "What's going on?"

"Johnny boy's got dinner with a married woman." Kyle says, telling everyone John's business. Erling makes a face. "A married woman? Is that like.. a kink for you?"

"No!" John groans, putting his phone into his pocket. "She's a friend that happens to be married. It's not what Kyle made it seem like." He glares at his friend, Kyle shrugs.

Jack asks the important question. "What are you going to wear? Do you want to borrow one of my Gucci shirts?"

"I'd rather not look ugly," John says, making Jack roll his eyes. "Opposed to.. you looking like yourself? So just double ugly?"

He huffs, "I'll wear something I have. It's only dinner."

"If you say so," Jack makes a face, clearly disapproving of John's fashion choices.

John grumbles as he walks off, "I hate all of you."

--

The days pass and John finds himself at your front door, heart beating out of his chest with nerves. He didn't want to have dinner with you and your husband. He wanted to turn back, to get into his car and leave.

He can't.

John's done scarier things, he's played matches that sent him into a spiral and yet, he's alive and well. One evening won't kill him.

It'll be in and out; dinner, small talk and then he'll leave with the excuse of an early training session.

He knocks, his palms sweaty. They take turns holding the bottle of wine as he wipes his palms on his jeans. The door opens, you're standing there with your hair over your shoulders and a big smile on your face.

"You made it," you stepped aside, "come in."

"I'm so sorry I'm late," he says as he walks in, noticing your bare feet he takes his shoes off. "I had a match and then we had the debrief and then I went home to shower, lost track of time and got stuck in traffic."

"Don't even worry about it," you tell him, shutting the door. John passes the bottle of wine over to you, "for you."

"I told you, you didn't need to fuss and bring anything." You accept the bottle with a smile regardless.

"It's no trouble, plus it's rude to show up empty handed." He says, watching as you walk to the kitchen. "Make yourself at home," you called out to him and John took that as his sign to poke around a bit.

He sticks his head into the living room, no sign of the husband. It's warm, homely. A couch against the back wall, tv by the window, fireplace along another wall. You've got photo frames hanging, some as decorations, some with actual photos.

There are three photos hung on the wall in the hallway, he stops to admire them. The middle frame had a little boy holding a baby wrapped up in a lavender blanket and the other two were what seemed to be school photos. The boy on the left and the girl on the right.

You peek out of the kitchen to see John looking at the photos. "Cute kids," he says. "Yours?"

Shrugging, you walk over to him. "Bought the house and they were on the wall, it seemed wrong to take them down."

"Oh," he makes a face, unsure what to say and you laugh, resting your hand on his bicep. "I'm kidding, they're mine. This is Sebastian," you point to your son and then your daughter. "This is Sophia."

"They're cute, they look like you."

"Genes are strong, Stonesy. Just like yours." You say, making him laugh. He nods as he knows what you meant. He and his sister were the same person, different genders.

"How old are they?" John asks while he follows you into the kitchen.

"Seb is 7 and Soph is 4."

"It's quiet, you'd think it'd be loud with little ones. Are they not home?"

"No," you handed him a glass of wine. "They're at their dad's for the weekend."

"Oh," John says, taking a sip of his wine. "You're not married?"

You make a face, one of disgust rather as you turned to your friend. "God no, ew. Why would you think that?"

John laughs at your face. "I just thought.. you said you had to get your ring fixed so I assumed your wedding ring."

"It's my blue one, the one you gave me for my birthday before you left for Everton." You tell him, checking on the roast in the oven.

John thinks back, he did gift you a ring for your 18th birthday, it was a few months before he signed for Everton. He thought it'd be a nice thing to give you, 18 was a big birthday plus he was officially making big boy money, not as much as he made now, but more than enough that he could afford to buy his best friend a nice gift for her birthday.

"I can't believe you still have that."

"Well I thought about pawning it off but the guy said he'd only give two pounds, so I figured I'd keep it. Sentimental value or something like that." You joked, John rolled his eyes at your words playfully.

"Yeah, yeah. Is there anything I can help with? I feel bad sitting around."

"Take the roast out of the oven? The pan is unnecessarily heavy." You set the plates on the table and John looks at you while walking to the oven. "You made a roast?"

"Well it's Sunday, isn't it?"

John nods, "it is. I haven't had a proper one in years, like actually sitting at the table and eating it. It's always left overs from mum because I had other stuff to do."

"It's so depressing," you chuckled. "Wait, I didn't even ask, can you eat this? Aren't you on some super footballer diet or something?"

"It's fine," he tells you, carrying the pan to the table. "One night won't kill me."

Dinner was quiet, the two of you chatted and caught up on as much as you can about the last 8 years. You talked about family, yours and his, he told you stories of his teammates and shared little memories he cherished from your childhood, you told him about your kids and how they drive you mad everyday.

It was nice, it was the grown up version of eating Chinese take out at 3am in the kitchen as teens.

You find yourself on the couch, each of you with a glass of wine and the almost empty bottle on the coffee table.

"I wonder, since you thought I was married, are you hiding a relationship?" You asked, finishing off your glass before setting it on the table. "Am I going to see myself in a headline somewhere? John Stones spotted cheating on wife with mystery woman." You both laughed at the made up headline.

"No," he shook his head. "I'm single, no need to worry." He mirrored your action and set the empty glass on the table before leaning back into the couch. "But if I can ask, what happened between you and your.. husband? Were you married ?"

"I was," you nodded. "We thought we could make it work but between work and the kids, we have no time for each other and we were miserable, even when we were together. It wasn't good for us nor was it good for the kids. So instead of the kids having one unhappy home, we decided to call it quits and let them have two happy homes."

"That's very mature of you both."

"I'd like to think so." You smiled. "What about you? How come you're single? You're young and handsome and talented."

"You think I'm handsome?" He raised an eyebrow. You roll your eyes, laughing as you smack his arm lightly. "Shut up, you know what I meant."

"Well, I never moved on.. from someone in the past."

"Oh.. someone broke your heart?" You shifted to face him fully. "Tell me everything."

John smiles, some things never change. "Sorta, I mean, not really. It was a long time ago and when I left home, I left her behind and I regret that. I shouldn't have left like that, we should have figured something out. I should have reached out but I didn't. I think I wasn't sure how to, so I never did.''

You nod, thinking. You understood what he meant but you were trying to figure out who he was talking about so you started naming off the girls he used to see while he was living in Barnsley and Liverpool.

"It's none of them," he says, smiling at your effort.

"So who is it?" You asked, brows furrowed. "I know all your exes."

John smiles at you, the twinkle in his eyes as he looked at you was a dead give away, and it hits you like a freight train. "It's.. me?" You look at him, your cheeks bright red when he nods.

It reminds him of when you two were younger, the two of you giggling until you're out of breath and red in the face.

"So pretty," he whispers, going to pinch your cheek. "Shut up," you mumble, swatting his hand away. John smiles, hand cupping your cheek.

A hand wraps around his wrist, the two of you looking at each other. In that moment, years of unspoken words hung in the air. Without a single word said, they both knew what the other was feeling - a feeling that had been buried deep within you both for so long.

With a soft smile, John leaned in, closing the gap between you. Your lips met in a kiss, pulling you into him. As they sat on the couch, still intertwined, John and y/n felt a sense of peace wash over them.

It was as if the weight of years of unspoken emotions had finally been lifted off their shoulders.

John's forehead pressed to yours, "do you know how long I've been waiting to do that?"

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to do that?" You giggled, kissing him once more.

--

tags: @thesnailus @alwaysclassyeagle @mehrmonga @callsignvenus @kmc1989 @ironmaiden1313 @muglermami

reply/send an ask to be added to my football taglist!

#this was so good pookie!! #john stones #john stones x reader #the details are everythingggg #also #John actually looks cute in that gif????

[themandaloriansdiaries]

mo saying trent goes over to his house to eat and he's the big brother so he has to provide food 🥹

#the besties are so cute #mo salah #trent alexander arnold

[themandaloriansdiaries]

promises under the stars

It's strange. When kisses under stairwells and behind his parents house turns to no more than passing gazes. To hatred. But this is the life you live, the life you have chosen. So you live. You will live.

Jude x fem!reader

Word count - 6.3K+ (yikes !!)

Watch it - angst with minimal fluff. enjoy ?

p.s. - i took a few creative liberties with the time lines an what not so plz take it with a grain of salt and dont think too deeply about it thank u

—-----

“Jude, “ you sigh. He doesn't look at you, he's afraid of what he’ll see and you know it.

It's a warm summer night, and you sit side by side on the bleachers of his training field. You waited for hours for him to be done, all for just a few moments together. In full honesty, you're not even supposed to be here, you've been threatened from both sides. And even family overseas have joined in. it's a mess. You think you told them you were off to the library, something like that. 

You pulled so many strings just to be let inside to watch training, likewise for Jude. But you're here, he's here. That's all that matters.

Only the lights on the field illuminate you, but you have memorized his face to need no light to see him. Your fingers grab into the seat under you, knuckles turning white. You're afraid. Oh so afraid. 

“Please,” you try again, soft and steady, patient. 

He finds the courage to face you, ripping himself from the doubt that surrounds him. 

You are what plants him to reality, keeps him steady. Your smile is enough to calm any worry, wave away any woe. He hates what he has to do. 

“You know this is the last time I’ll see you,” he mumbles. He can't keep risking things the way they are. There's so many eyes on you as it is. He won't put you into harm's way, even if it means parting ways to do so. He wrings his hands together. Breathe, he tries to remind himself. Breathe. 

You nod, swift and curt, “I know.” oh how you know. You've been dreading this day to come for a while now. And now that it's here, what can you do? 

He picks at the cuffs of his training jacket,“I told them I would marry you, but my agent said it would be unwise.”

“You would marry me?” you whisper, eyes wide. 

“A thousand times over. “ he finds your hand, gently lacing it together.

“I wish things were different.” a knot in your throat forms, and tears well in your eyes.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, gently bringing you snug against him as you sob. You will never understand why your families are so adamantly against you two all of the sudden. Your whole childhood was filled with teasing and jokes of marrying one another, giggles when you would be forced to stand in pictures, but now that it was to be true suddenly the jokes faded and anger took its place. 

He is good for you as you are good for him. Jude is a man like no other, patient, caring, kind, soft and easy to you yet firm to all else. He holds each door open, never forgets flowers, even when he's away. Surprises you with your favorite sweets, never misses a good night or good morning text. Buys you things you mentioned casually in a fleeting conversation, all because it comes from your lips. If you were to wish for the world he would buy it all, tied neatly and delivered to your window sill. 

He takes each burden off your mind with a smile, carries your things, sends a ride to any place you wish to be. (he's working on the actual license).

You fully expected your families to be static, jumping for joy and diving straight to wedding planning. Instead you were met with a brisk, “no.”

No? No to the man who has overtaken your heart and mind? No to the man who wishes to see your flourish and bloom in every regard, every aspect, every part of life? It's cruel in a way. You once used to grimace at the idea when you were younger, fake gagging and instead choosing to wrestle with him in the grass. And now you beg to be allowed to see him. 

To ban your union is one thing, but to see him at all brings too much weight on your heart. 

You fought every step of the way, every step until now. It gets to be too much at a certain point, when you have to watch your very move in fear of being caught, of being seen with him. When eyes wash over you with lips upturned in sneers and whispers soon following. 

The delicate facade you've built is beginning to crack at the seams. Soon there will be nothing left to keep you together. You fear going mad. 

So you choose to let him go.

Your phone buzzes, prying the two of you apart. Your heart leaps to your throat. Have you been found out ?

It's just a twitter notification. 

You sigh, rubbing your eyes. He rubs gentle circles on your knee. His hands are warm. Just like you remember, just like you dream of. In the gentle quiet of your room you close your eyes and wish for him. 

“We can't see each other but I want to keep in touch. I'll wait for you. If you'll wait for me.” he whispers.

You see the tears begin to roll down his cheeks. Ever thoughtful Jude, waiting for you to finish crying to allow himself to do so. 

“I'll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. “ you nod, leaning on his shoulder. 

And you do just that. 

Youre forced apart when a teammate tells him to get going. 

He scowls, “hold on.”

The teammate, whose name alludes you, shrugs and jogs back inside.

You stand, watching him shake the tension out of his shoulders. 

“This is it then,” you mumble, lip quivering. 

“Yeah,” he takes your hands in his, “guess so.”

You bit your lip to stop any more cries. He unlatches a hand from yours, brining it to cup your face gently, wiping the streaks of dried treats left on your cheeks. 

“I love you,” he leans down, pressing a single kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” you nod, chasing his lips. He gives them to you. Soft and easy. You screw your eyes shut. Oh you're crying again. 

You part when you can no longer breathe, foreheads pressed together while your chests heave.

“My angel,” he sobs.

“Ill find a way back,” you kiss his cheek.

He nods, here,” shaking his training jacket off and putting it on you. 

Someone yells his name and he sighs. One last kiss to your forehead. 

You watch him sprint down the stands, giving you one last smile before disappearing in the tunnel. 

—--

Dortmund is kind to him, you watch as you flourish on the field, never missing a game. You know it's too much to go in person so you stay tucked into bed, laptop out and always always waiting for his name to be announced. Giddy as he looks at the camera. Some days you even convince yourself he's looking right at you.

He calls when he can, facetime you when he's at the facilities. Obnoxiously flexing to the camera while you laugh. You treasure these moments. The few minutes a day when the time difference allows for an overlap. Just enough to get you through to the next day. He always blows a kiss to the camera, and you alway catch it. No matter how cheesy. 

“I stubbed my toe.” he whines on the other end.

You laugh, “and whose fault is that.”

“Yours.” he decides. 

“Uh huh.” you shake your head fondly, raising a brow at your phone that sits on a window sill. Today you're at a cafe getting some work done. And he just finished dinner. 

“Think you'll be able to come to a game soon?” he asks, voice barely a whisper. 

You stop typing, frowning, “Jude…”

He shakes his head, “I'm sorry. I know. We can't.”

“Maybe in a year or so? Things should be cooled down by then.”

“Sure,” he shrugs, “they still giving you a hard time?”

You blow air through your nose, “hard time is an understatement, they've practically banned sports.” making light of the outrages situation helps you feel better some days. Jude joining in helps. He always helps. 

“So dramatic.” he tuts. 

You nod, “so dramatic.”

—--

The year comes and goes. The texts slow down till they are few and far inbetween. You can't blame him. You watch him dominate the field in each appearance, breaking records and showing the world what you've always known, showing just how special he is.

His following count skyrockets and he gets a blue check. You feel special to be one of the few he follows. No matter how silly. Even when he doesn't reply to you and posts on his story you try not to take it too hard (you let it get to your head on bad days.)

You wait for each reply patiently like a lifeline nonetheless, connecting the two of you together. You drop everything the moment his name flashes on the screen. You try to ease the butterflies that float and twist in your stomach, the jitters that make it hard to type out responses right. But you can't help it. 

He wins the German cup. And you get a call late into the night, bleary as you reach for your phone, groaning while you put it to your ear. Skipping over his face that illuminates the screen, smiling. Cheeks flush and eyes blown wide. 

He giggles, “hi.” 

“Hi,” you mumble back. 

He giggles again, “m in your ear.”

You squint, bringing the phone in front of you and getting your first good look of him of the night. 

“Hey Jude.”

“Hey love.” he sighs dreamily. 

You come to your senses soon enough, scooting to sit upright, pushing your pillows around getting comfortable. 

“Are you drunk?” You laugh. 

“Shhh…” he puts a finger to his lips, “secret.”

You raise a brow, “you’re not doing a very good job at keeping it that way.”

Bursts of laughter bubble from his lips. Swaying side to side while. He blinks, hard, mouth open while he stares.

“ ‘M fine.” He nods. Proud of himself. 

You frown, “Are you going to be okay? Are you alone?”

“Erlings with me. My best roommate.”

“Okay good. Be safe.” 

“You’re so pretty.” Is what he manages to get out. 

“Thank you. You should go to bed.” You smile. He’s sweet, no matter how drunk. 

“But I missed you.” He pouts, bottom lip quivering and for a second you think he’s about to cry. Instead he blows a kiss to you. Of course you catch it. 

“I missed you too. But it’s late, for both of us.” You lean against your pillow, blinking against the dark of your room. 

He hums, tapping his finger against his chin. “I won the cup.” He blurts. 

“I know love. I watched.”

His eyes go wide, “you watched me.”

You nod, “the whole game.”

He scrunches his nose, “wow.”

“You did amazing.”

“Wow.” He repeats.

You yawn, squinting against the time in the little corner of your phone. 

“Jude.”

“Hm?”

“Head to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

He sighs, shoulders sagging, “fine.”

“I love you. “

He perks right back up. “I love you. You. You.”

You give him a little kiss to the screen and he manages to fall back on his bed sighing happily. You hear erling come in and decide to hang up. You hope he manages to get out of his kit for the night. 

——

Things start to calm down on your end. It's almost like everyone's choosing to forget about the hell they've put you through. But you don't make a fuss, you are happy to have peace of mind, no matter how fleeting it may seem. It's just one step closer to being able to have him. Fully and wholly. 

He calls you early into the morning. He's sitting in his house, shirt off, smiling. 

“Uh oh. What's this about? “ 

He only smiles wider, bringing an ipad out of nowhere and showing it to you. 

You squint, “jude i can't see that. “

He huffs, “here,” picking up his phone and flipping the camera to where his ipad now sits on his lap. 

On the screen reads flight information, for about 2 weeks out, destination is to you. Your eyes go wide and you hear him chuckle on the other end. 

“No way. No way oh my god.” you all but squeal.

He flips the camera back around, “Can't wait to see you again,” he beams. 

“I missed you so much.” 

“Me too.” he mumbles, lips curling in a smile. 

——-

You greet him at the airport, flowers in hand. No you don’t care how cheesy it is. Even if you have to wait in the most obscure place, car parked and nerves rising. Playing with every button and switch on your dashboard, picking at every spec of dust you can reach. You got it detailed yesterday and you’re already nitpicking. 

You check and recheck your phone, picking at the petals of the flowers that rest in your passenger, until his contact illuminates your screen. 

You frantically answer, “hey.”

“TSA was being a bitch.” He groans. 

You chuckle, “that bad.”

“The worst. Where you at?”

You look around for signs, “arrivals, right next to the luggage cart return thing. It says door D5. “

“D5. Okay okay I’m coming.”

You hum, hanging up and drumming your hands on the wheel. 

He calls you again, “okay I’m walking out the door. Can you help me with the luggage?”

“Yeah-“ you unbuckle your seatbelt, putting your hazards on and stepping out of the car. You see him walk out the door and you almost drop your phone while rushing up to him. 

He lets go of his carry on, opening his arms and you slip right into them. 

“Hey,” he hums into your hair.

You laugh,“hey.” 

You unlatch far too soon for your liking out the sounds and rush of the airport pushes you to get him in your car and outta here. 

You grab his things, one carry on and one checked bag, clicking your keys and opening your trunk. He doesn’t let you do much else, lifting the suitcase and sliding it inside. Your little 4 door sedan manages to fit the checked bag in your truck. With not enough room for the carry in, it slides into your back seat. 

You close the door, patting the top of your car affectionately, “there. All good to go?”

He nods, opening the door to your passenger and gasping, “flowers?” Eyes going wide, eyebrows shooting in and looking at you. Lips parted. 

Oh yes. You forgot about those. “Haha. Yeah. Flowers.”

He picks them up gingerly, setting them into his lap as he gets into the seat. “Are these for me?”

You hop to the driver's side, buckling your seatbelt, “duh.” 

He giggles,”they’re sweet.”

“Smell them.” 

He does, putting his face in the petals, “woah.”

“Best flowers in town.” 

“Smells like. Fresh laundry.” He nods. 

“Laundry. You called my flowers laundry.” You sigh. 

He swats your arm, “it’s a compliment jeez. Just landed and you’re giving me a hard time.”

“Yeah yeah buckle up.” You flick his arm. 

The ride home is one filled with animated stories to catch up the time between you two. Completely oblivious to anything else as you drive with one hand, and the other plays with his fingers. 

You get to your little apartment, parking and getting his things out. Sliding your key card over the sensor and you guide him to the lobby. 

You roll over to the elevator and hit the button. Sniffling while it heads up. 

“Are you sick?” He narrows his eyes at you. 

“Nah.”

“Mkay.”

The elevator dings and you find your way to your little home, unlocking the door and motioning him inside. 

“Ta da!”

He snorts, “I’m excited.”

“You should be. Best house this side of the equator.”

He rolls his things inside, shaking his head, “so there’s better on the other side?”

You shrug, “there might be.”

He collapses on your couch the moment he sees it. Closing his eyes and sighing deeply. 

“Shoes off at the door Jude.” You slide yours off and set them next to your shoe rack. 

He groans, kicking them off and trudging back to set them next to yours. 

By the time you put his things in your room, he's out like a light, snoring softly. 

—--

You let him sleep, by the time he comes back to it it's dinner time. Groggy and cranky he pads over to your dining table, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes but reaching for you.

He finds you eventually, plating the last bit of food while he wraps his arms around you, leaning into your back. You stifle a laugh  while he mumbles something about you being mean. You only roll your eyes, unlatching his grip.

“Time to eat baby.”

He only purses his lips, leaning against yours. You give him what he wants. Pressing a gentle kiss and guiding him to his seat. A sleep Jude is a clingy one you've learned. 

He eats all you make, complimenting and praising you after every bite. 

“You're so good at this.” he sighs, taking a sip of his water. 

“Anything for my favorite boy.”

He preens at this, smiling wide.

He's only here for the next three days but you'll take anything you can get. 

——-

Jude worries for you. 

Even in the gentle lull of your ac that fans his face while you're fast asleep against him.

He wonders who much longer he can keep doing this. Holding onto hope that down the line he will still have you.

His time is running out with you. It feels just like the day you parted at the stadium. Crying. He noticed you kept the jacket, neatly tucked in your closet.

It makes him frown. Making you waste your youth waiting for him. 

Part of him wants to keep you for him and only him. Keep waiting and hoping things will work out. Another part of him, much less excited, wishes for you to look him in the eye and tell him you don't love him anymore.

One of you has to do it, he thinks. 

Even if you move in with him and you get married. Is it worth the fall out? His mother hates you. His father cant stand hearing your name at the dinner table on the few days they eat together.

He knows the sentiment is shared on your end.

But he loves you. Oh how he loves you. 

—--

After he leaves you don't hear from him for months on end your worry rises, and when the replies also shorten, your fear takes a hold of you. Sensibility out the window and in comes every insecure thought. 

He's found a hot shot model to be with hasn't he. Or better yet a female player. Reporter perhaps? You're not dumb or blind, you know you're not the only one who sees how handsome he is. He's growing into his features beautifully. But does he see you?

Is he leaving you behind now, as his life and career continue to accelerate at speeds you can barely keep up with, is he no longer waiting for you ?

—--

Jude finds his routine once again. Training playing, training playing. It's a little dull, he thinks.

Much better if you would be here. 

But he can't have that. 

He stops himself from talking to you. It feels wrong. He can't shake off the feeling that he's only doing you wrong by making you keep up with him. So he slowly distances himself. 

—--

He cant stay away. Not even if he tries. 

He surprises you near your birthday. Completely unannounced while you're in the middle of cleaning. 

You open the door to a jittery Jude who grabs you close, pressing his lips firm to yours.

“Hello to you too,” you giggle in between kisses. 

Peck! “You're so-” peck!, “beautiful.”

You shoo him away, getting his things inside as he takes his shoes off at the door. 

“I missed you so much, “ he mumbles against the crook of your neck.

“Me too,” you sigh, clutching into his hands like a lifeline. 

“I got you tickets?”

You look up at him, “okay. Ill go.”

He attacks you with a hundred more kisses, bursts of laughter spilling from the both of you. You dont think youve ever been happier. 

—--

You do go. Sitting in the fancy VIP section while watching him warm up. You almost forgot he’s at Madrid now. Big leagues huh. 

He sends small waves your way in between exercises. And you only watch fondly.

When it's time for the actual match, you can't believe you get to watch him score. And he points right to you. 

You love him. Oh how you love him.

He finds you after it's all set and done. Kissing you silly while he ignores the hundreds of notifications that make his phone buzz and sputter on the table.

You frown, “who is that.”

He chews his lip, “prolly just the guys,” leaning back into your lips.

You're forced to part ways when the calls flood in, promising to see you soon when he takes care of things.

He doesn't come back to see you, instead leaving you to head back to your hotel alone. You try not to think too deeply into it. But you fear you are already starting to lose him. After everything really has passed and fizzled out to nothing but memories. You fear it's all too late. 

—--

You see him only once more during your stay in madrid. When youre all packed and leaving. He presses kisses to your skin whispering promises. And you believe him.

When you land back home you go back to your routine of watching him from afar. And again the replies shorten. So much so you only get the odd text every few weeks. Until it turns to months. And you're back to radio silence. 

It's almost a self pity party, trying to keep up with him. Even now that you can go see him, he can come see you, does he even want that anymore?

You crave to talk to him, to know him, to go back to the closeness you once shared. You know that's no longer your place in his life. You were someone he once treasured. Now you're another unanswered dm that lays in his inbox. 

Does it hurt you as much as it does him? You don't think so. Not when pictures of him on vacation with his “friends” surface. Who even are these people? You don't recognize a single face. It fills you with rage.

Almost like he's trying to erase his past life with this new squeaky clean image of the perfect player with the perfect life. Friends and all. 

Is he ashamed of you?

You fight the urge to call his mom and stir up trouble from the past. So instead you hunker down in your room and try to keep yourself busy and mind off of Jude. This turns out to be much easier said than done. 

—--

Jude finds himself in another after party, wearing clothes much too expensive to be getting champagne sprayed all over them. But what else can he do?

He crafted this image delicately. Can't turn back now. 

There's a woman who keeps whispering into his ear. She's not you. No matter how much his teammates howl and egg him on. He can't bring himself to do so much as face her.

He's not interested, gently moving her aside while he nurses his drink. 

She scoffs, calling him a slew of names. He frowns, excusing himself and making a beeline for the bathrooms. Locking himself inside a stall and leaning on its walls. 

He calls you. Of course he does. And you pick up.

“Hey Jude.” he can hear the smile in your voice.

“Hey love.”

“What's up?” 

He sighs, long and drawn out, “I just miss you.”

You snort, “really because it seems like you've been having a blast on beaches with people i've never heard of.”

Oh.

“It's not like that-”

“Jude. don't lie to me. If you've found someone else, tell me now.”

“I havent I swear. They really are just friends.”

“Why didn't you tell me you were going?” you whisper.

There's a beat of silence. And Jude can't find the answer. Looking at the ceiling of the club like it will magically come to life and give him just the right combination of words to make both of you happy. 

You sigh, “if we are going to make anything work I can't be out of the loop this much Jude. I can't know things after paparazzi do okay?”

“Okay,” he replies, meek. 

“Where even are you?” 

He licks his lips, “this after party thing.”

“Its in a club isn't it.”

He doesn't answer but it's confirmation nonetheless.

“Dont be stupid and start calling me more.”

He opens his mouth to answer, but you've already hung up. He rubs his eyes and head out the stall. Washing his hands and splashing some water on his face.

When he gets back out there, he decides to call it a night. Ignoring the groans and frowns he gets.

When he's back in bed. He's looking at flights to see you again. 

—--

Jude gets a call a few weeks later. 

It's right after he gets back from training. Hasn't even changed yet. 

The number is unknown and he ignores it the first time. Setting his phone on the dinning table and kicking his shoes off. 

When it calls back two more times he picks up. 

“Hello?” he scratches the back of his head. 

“You know why im calling.” its your father. 

Jude scrambles to take a seat, chewing his lips. What does he mean know why. He hasn't talked to you in a few days. 

“Um, I really don't know-” he gets cut off.

“This will be my last warning to you. You are not going to ruin my daughter's life i dont give a damn how old you are, how old she is. None of this player nonsense. She has a proper education. You aren't going to ruin that for her, do you understand?”

Silence. 

“I swear if I hear you coming around her or talking to her I will sue you and your whole family.”

The line goes dead and Jude sighs. Great. Just great. 

He calls his lawyer, seeing if it would be legal to sue. 

His lawyer hums, “well they can come at you from any angle really. Emotional distress possible defamation. Id lay low for now.”

So he does just that. Yet again going silent on you.

—--

He hears wind that people have put two and two together. Your instagram has been flooded with requests. You've always had it private but you've been forced to change your user name and picture.

You don't know how but pictures from when you saw him in Madrid have resurfaced. 

And have gone more than just viral. It's all people are talking about. 

Your work life has gone from just pleasantries and work only talk to people crowding around you begging to know more. You've had people show up to your workplace for god's sake. Begging to be let in so they can see you. 

Jude calls you, worried. “I'm so sorry I don't know how pics were even taken. I'm so sorry im so sorry.”

“I don't know what to do Jude i've never dealt with this kinda stuff.” you mumble.

“Hey, hey its okay. Ill get you in contact with a security company dont worry leave it to me.”

“Okay.”

“For now. I dont think ill be able to see you anytime soon.”

“Thats okay.”

“Be safe yeah?”

“Yeah.”

—--

Your family is in a complete uproar. They blame Jude. of course they do. Your father talks about suing him but you turn it down. 

“He didnt mean for this to happen.”

Your mother shakes her head, “this is why we told you to stay away from him.”

You dont regret any moments with him. 

It takes a while. A grueling few months for your life to finally go back to normal. But Jude rarely comes back like before.

You watch the months turn to years flashing by. Facetimes become a luxury of your past self. Calls are reserved for special occasions like an aged wine. Only brought out sparelily. You get one on your birthday but it feels forced. Heavy and filled with all too much silence. 

You've tried calling, texting. Rarely receiving the time of day. Who is Jude to you anymore? 

“Hey, “ he smiles. A picture perfect rehearsed one. You almost forgot what he sounded like when speaking to you. How long has it been now?

“Hi.” You mumble. 

“Happy birthday. Sorry I couldn’t be there.” 

You shrug, “it’s okay.”

Silence while you pick your nails. 

“Any plans?”

“I don’t know, maybe dinner with friends.”

“Oh Emily?”

You want to roll your eyes. You haven’t spoken to Emily in years.

“No Jude. We’re not in touch anymore. New friends I’ve met”

He mouths a silent “oh”. 

He wants to tell you why he's been gone for so long. But unfortunately he's caught up in a legal battle. Your father actually went ahead with it. And he's stuck trying to make sense of it.

The maniac got good lawyers. And he's using every last bit of the law to win it. Using the leaked pictures that caused you so much trouble as his main leverage. 

He's been advised not to talk to you. But it's your birthday. And now seeing you moved on, new friends, new life. It feels like it's time to let go. 

For your sake. He's only brought problems into your life. And you live a life now without him. He just hopes you're happy. 

—--

You see him once, passing by through the city center. You want to run after him, grab his shoulders and shake him awake, scream and yell, beg for him to remember your promise. But you do none of that. The second your gaze meets his, your heart leaps to your throat, you blink and he's gone.

You get a text from him a few days later, first since your birthday. 

Was nice seeing you.

You want to cry. What did he see? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It wasn't nice. Not at all. It was awful. It ripped any piece of sense out of you and made you sick. 

You dont reply. 

—--

You wish you had. He gets called to the national team, and suddenly your family begins to boast of your connection to him. And that's just it. Your connection. Not theirs. Yours. You know him, you love him. Or you knew him. 

After so many years of cursing his name now they all but sing it. 

The local community is hosting watch parties, you refuse to go. 

You know the gossip around you as is. You don't need it said to your face. These people are unforgiving on their best days, cruel on their worst. More so the older generation who seems to hold not an ounce of basic human decency. 

And somehow you find yourself in a room painted in blue and white, you look away at the stares you get when you walk in. You're regretting coming at all.  You're wearing a blank jersey you've had for a while, slumped in the corner of the room, watching. Waiting for the comments to pour in sooner or later. 

But they don't, not for now. Instead, the room erupts with cheers and applause as Jude scores a goal, you smile. Not bad for a midfielder huh. The air is electric with excitement, but you feel detached, as if you're watching the scene unfold from a distance, picking at the plate of sweets that rests on your knee. 

As the game progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Jude on the screen. He looks different now, more confident, more assured. He's cut his hair, clean and precise. And yet, there's a sadness in his eyes that mirrors your own.

You wonder if he thinks of you, if he remembers the promise he made all those years ago. Has it really been years? But the thought is fleeting, lost amidst the chaos of the crowd and the weight of your own heartache. And soon I have a headache. 

When the final whistle blows and England emerges victorious, the room erupts into celebration once again. But you slip out quietly, unnoticed, lost in your own thoughts.

Outside, the night air is cool against your skin as you make your way home. You're not waiting on anyone, and it's a short walk away. The streets are quiet, the sounds of celebration fading into the distance.

You pause for a moment, taking in the stillness of the night. And in that moment, you make a decision.

You may not have chased after him when you had the chance, but you refuse to let this be the end of your story. You refuse to let fear and doubt hold you back any longer. There is no use to let yourself be defined by what ifs. 

With a determined step, you pull out your phone and type out a message to Jude.

Watched you play tonight. I'm proud of you.

It's a small gesture, but it's a start. And as you hit send, you feel a glimmer of hope stir within you.

Maybe, just maybe, this isn't goodbye after all. Maybe there's still a chance for the two of you to find your way back to each other, to rewrite the ending of your story.

But for now, all you can do is wait. Wait for his reply, wait for the future to unfold, and wait for the day when you can finally be together again, without fear or hesitation. In a way he'll always be your Jude. 

——

News reaches you in the form of an instagram post on a summer day.  Not family, not friends, not him. It’s your explore page that plasters it on your screen, in the middle of your morning routine you see him all tidied up in a suit, facing away from the camera, the side of his face illuminated by soft light. Next to his side is a woman in white, you only see a peek of her face but you call tell shes smiling. 

“Just married.”

Married. Just. Married. 

Oh. 

You don't register it at first, the words looking more like a foreign language than any coherent sentence. So you finish brushing your teeth and your hair. Moisturizing your face, slipping back into bed and rereading it over and over and over again till it finally does click for you.

He gave up on waiting.

You keep going back to the picture. He's grown into a proper man now. His features are full and bright. He's gotten a different haircut. Leaving behind the one of his youth. You read through the comments of teammates and old friends congratulating him. 

You realize the tie he's wearing is the one his dad got him when he first left for dortmund. You think you're gonna be sick. 

No one bothers to ask why you've been crying all day. It's safe to assume everyone knows by now, hell the whole population probably does. 

What changed his mind? What made it that he couldn't even bother to let you know beforehand?

And yet there's a stupid prick of hope that can't seem to go away. You're still waiting for him aren't you. 

—--

As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months, the reality of his marriage settles heavily on your shoulders. You can't help but wonder if he thinks of you, if he remembers the promises made under the stars, if he regrets the choice he made. But you push those thoughts aside, burying them deep within you, because what good would they do?

A sick twisted idea of wrecking his home blooms in your mind, but you know you can't. You just can't. Not to him. You can't take away something like this from him. 

Life goes on, as it always does, but the ache in your chest remains, a constant reminder of what could have been. You try to distract yourself with work, with friends, with anything that will keep your mind from wandering back to him. Yet, he's always there, lingering in the back of your thoughts like stardust. 

You hear snippets of his life through mutual acquaintances, through social media posts, through the grapevine of gossip that always seems to find its way to you. He's thriving, it seems, his career reaching new heights, his personal life seemingly content. Apparently he has a kid on the way, would you look at that. And you can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. To top it all off you still have no clue on who this woman is. Not who she is, what she does, where she's from. Absolutely nothing, it drives you mad to say the least. 

He hasn't spoken to you. Not since that day in the city center. 

Maybe if you would have known all that was to come you would've gone after him. Chasing him endlessly through cobblestone stress and crowded walkways. Would he have even stopped? Given you a moment of his day?

The same man who spent his days off in your apartment kissing your worries away and promising you a tomorrow you still cling to. 

You're a foolish foolish woman. And for some reason, you don't hate him. You don't think you ever could. Even after everything, every single year that's passed. A part of you will always love him. 

—--

#I could cry #this was so beautifully written #I felt like I was there #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine