Chapter Text
Jude, Pedri, and Jobe sat squeezed together on a small sofa meant for two people.
After rescuing Jude from immediate death, they had all come to a conclusion.
Well, mostly Pedri.
They had somehow found themselves trapped inside a Yaoi harem dating sim game.
Now, what the fuck did that even mean?
Jude had no fucking clue.
But from what Pedri had managed to piece together, Jude was apparently a psycho villain obsessed with the male lead,Prince Haaland, and constantly interfering with his romance with the main character, Lord Fernandez.
Jobe was some scheming mistress who had apparently been sabotaging the main characters from the shadows because he was in love with some Carney guy, who happened to be the second male lead.
Jude really wanted to question the sanity of the people who developed such a shitty game.
Then there was Pedri.
Pedri was apparently an evil, obsessive stalker of none other than the third male lead, whose name Jude couldn't even remember from Pedri's explanation.
Anyway, what Jude had gathered was that all three of them were destined to die very soon.
In practical terms, Jude was supposed to die today.
Then Jobe.
Finally, Pedri.
Because apparently, in the 'plot' of the game, they were all villains who needed to die for the main characters to achieve their happy ending.
How great.
They couldn't have made a more generic game if they tried.
Worst of all, men here could actually get pregnant.
Jude really didn't want to know what kind of fucked-up game this was or why the fuck Pedri had ever played something this brainless.
He was still glad Pedri at least had some idea of what was happening to all three of them.
Because if he didn't, Jude wouldn't have minded yeeting himself off a building.
But was this really his fuck-ass luck?
---
Jude had been well on his way to a guillotine execution when a sudden realisation hit him in the middle of what looked suspiciously like Buckingham Palace.
Everyone had been screaming at him.
At first, the language sounded completely foreign.
But slowly—painfully—it began to make sense.
The luxurious clothes.
The extravagant decorations.
The fancy objects that looked expensive enough to be worth more than he'd earned throughout his entire football career.
They all started becoming familiar.
Then came the memories.
Two lives.
Two sets of memories.
One Jude Bellingham from Earth.
And another Jude Bellingham from this ridiculous medieval universe.
They collided inside his head.
Jude withered in pain.
His entire body seized as memories slammed into him one after another.
The first time he'd met Prince Haaland.
The first time he'd joined Birmingham City.
The first time he'd fallen in love with Prince Haaland.
Jobe, his dad, and his mum cheering for him from the football stadium stands.
The jealousy.
The rage.
The humiliation of Prince Haaland refusing to even give him the time of day.
Being approached to play for England.
Then Real Madrid.
The humiliating scenes he'd caused in front of half the court today.
And finally—
The memory of a dagger.
Jude's stomach turned as he remembered the blade, barely inches away from digging into him.
He didn't even realise the man in front of him had stopped shouting.
It took Jude a moment to realise who the man was.
That was the King.
And knights were surrounding him.
Swords drawn.
Swords.
Actual fucking swords.Directed at him.
That was when a voice tore through the ballroom.
“YOUR MAJESTY!”
Jude's head snapped up.
Pedri.
Well—
A Pedri lookalike.
The man had Pedri's face, his familiar dark eyes, and those unmistakable features.
But according to the memories currently trying to fry Jude's brain, this version of Pedri was supposed to be an evil, desperate stalker. Nothing like his Pedri.
Back on Earth, from the set of memories now flooding his mind, Pedri was his best friend.
A bastard who didn't give two shits about dating, feelings, or settling down.
Pedri was selfish.
Annoying.
Occasionally a complete fucking idiot.
That meant he never gave anyone the light of the day, much less use his free time to be a stalker.
Jude liked him just that way.
But the man moving towards him was nothing like that.
The man standing before him had just risen from his bow without the King's permission.
And he was walking directly towards him.
Every noble in the ballroom turned.
Pedri's eyes met Jude's.
For a moment, their eyes locked.
Then Jude understood.
Unbelievable.
It wasn't a lookalike.
It was him.
The real Pedri.
From Madrid.
From Earth.
Jude recognised that expression immediately.
Absolute bewilderment.
The same expression he'd probably worn when he'd first opened his eyes in this nightmare of a ballroom.
Pedri looked around once before his gaze returned to Jude.
They stared at each other.
It felt strangely familiar.
Like the strategic eye contact they shared during a high-stakes match.
One glance.
One silent exchange.
I know.
You know.
We're fucked.
Pedri's lips twitched.
To everyone else, it probably looked like confidence.
Jude knew better.
The bastard was terrified.
“Everything that has been stated is false,” Pedri declared.
He gave Jude the smallest nod before marching directly in front of him.
Between Jude and the knights.
Protecting him.
Something warm and painfully familiar settled inside Jude's chest.
Despite the swords.
Despite the unfamiliar memories.
Despite the fact that he was apparently moments away from being executed for crimes committed by an alternate-version of himself—potentially himself.
Seeing Pedri there made everything feel slightly less terrifying.
At least he wasn't alone.
No matter, Pedri was still there. Probably even millions of light years away, Pedri was still by Jude’s side.
The King, who moments ago had been shouting at him, let out an amused chuckle, his glorious blonde hair cascading over his shoulders.
“And why do you say that, Lord López?”
Pedri's jaw tightened.
His gaze never left the King.
“Because Bellingham and I are lovers.”