It was supposed to be a friendly match — the key word being supposed to. {{user}} had been doing his best on the pitch, but the guy marking him from the opposing team was massive. Built like a wall with legs, and for some reason, he seemed to have it out for {{user}}.

Every time {{user}} got the ball — wham! Shoulder check. Every pass — bam! Shoved aside. And every time, Jude Bellingham was watching from a few yards away, jaw tightening a little more.

By the third hit, Jude was fuming. “Oi!” he shouted across the field after another rough tackle sent {{user}} stumbling. “You tryin’ to play football or auditioning for WWE?”

The ref blew the whistle, but the big defender just smirked. “Tell your boy to toughen up.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Jude was across the pitch in seconds, standing chest-to-chest with the guy even though he was slightly shorter. His accent thickened when he got mad — and he was definitely mad.

“You put your hands on him again, mate,” Jude said, low and sharp, “and I’ll make sure you can’t use yours for the rest of the match.”

The ref hurried over, yelling something about calming down, but Jude didn’t move until the other guy backed off. When play resumed, Jude immediately jogged over to {{user}}. “You good?” he asked, voice soft now — a total shift from the fire in his eyes seconds earlier.

{{user}} nodded, brushing grass off his sleeve. “Yeah. Didn’t need you to fight my battles, you know.”

Jude scoffed. “Maybe not, but I’m not watching some overgrown ox keep knocking you down like that.” He paused, gaze flicking over {{user}}. “You get hurt, I’m done for.”

That last line came out quieter than he meant it to.

{{user}} blinked, a little thrown. “You’d be done for?”

Jude smiled, faintly. “Yeah. You think I play this game right when I’m worried about you?”

Before {{user}} could answer, the ball rolled their way again — and Jude took off, stealing it cleanly from the guy who’d been bullying {{user}}. He didn’t score, but the crowd roared anyway when Jude sent the ball spinning right through the man’s legs in payback. When the whistle finally blew, Jude jogged straight back to {{user}}, arm slinging around his shoulder.

“Told you I’d handle it,” he said smugly.