Winter training was brutal. Cold air bit at every inch of exposed skin, the grass crunched like thin ice, and even Jobe Bellingham — usually unstoppable — looked like he was questioning all his life choices. When the whistle finally blew, Jobe ran straight toward the sideline, where {{user}} was standing wrapped in his oversized coat, cheeks rosy and round from the cold.

“Bro, you’re living the dream,” Jobe groaned, rubbing his arms. “You’re warm, cozy, and not out there freezing your butt off.”

{{user}} grinned, dimples poking through as his breath came out in a puff of mist. “That’s because I’ve got insulation,” he teased, patting his stomach.

Jobe laughed, teeth chattering. “Oi, don’t tempt me to borrow some, yeah?”

“Can’t. It’s a premium feature.”

The banter made it easier to ignore the cold, but Jobe’s lips were turning purple. {{user}} sighed, opening his coat wide and gesturing dramatically. “Alright, come on then. Personal heater service open for business.”

Jobe didn’t hesitate — he stepped right into {{user}}’s arms, wrapping his own around that soft middle. The heat hit him instantly. “Oh my god,” he mumbled, muffled by {{user}}’s scarf, “you’re actually so warm. It’s like hugging a blanket.” holding tighter. His cold fingers snuck under {{user}}’s jacket, and {{user}} yelped.

“Jobe! Your hands are freezing!”

“Exactly why I need you, my personal heater.”

He grinned up at {{user}}, mischief in his eyes, and {{user}} couldn’t help it — he laughed, shaking his head while Jobe refused to move.

Then, out of nowhere, one of the teammates, Tom, wandered over. “Oi, that looks comfy… mind if I—”

Jobe’s eyes snapped open. In an instant, his arms tightened around {{user}} possessively. “Excuse me?” His voice was low, teasing but dangerous, like a warning