Summary: does love have an end? The longing ever stops? Do you recognize death when it comes for you?
AN: sorry in advance :( and also let me know what u think :)
Next part
Some people say a person knows when she's about to die. It's not something that science can explain, but the person knows. She can feel that her last moments are happening as they passed and that soon, they won't be there anymore. That was what you felt when you laid down that night with Jude by your side. In that particular night you both ordered his favorite pizza and drank beer until both your cheeks were red. Jude seemed happy. He told you about his day and you told him about the recent reels you watched on Instagram and even showed him some. He rolled down laughing as he watched some of them in loop. It wasn't a special night at all and if you weren't feeling the end coming you'd never enjoy ever passing second of it. Thank God you did. Thank God you didn't miss a single smile Jude offered or a single kiss he gave you.
That night he tucked you tight making sure you wouldn't feel any kind of drift from your other side and laid beside you wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. If anybody asked, neither of you would be able to say who was holding who to earth. You both became a trustable rock for each other. You nested your head in his neck as Jude whispered sweet words to you like he always did: I love you, you are my life, you make my heart race, I love you to everything.
You weren't sure when exactly you stop hearing his voice.
And it was that day, August 1st, 2026 that you left. You couldn't complain. You lived a good life. Not a long one, but definitely good.
If someone asked you how you would like to die, perhaps that would be your answer: in the arms of the one you love, listening to his voice until you take your last breath. That the warmth of the arms of the one you loved could be the last thing you felt. No pain, no screams, no hospitals and machines. Just you and him.
Now just him.
Now just you.
Bellingham only woke up in the morning. He didn't need long to understand that you weren’t there anymore. Your face was pale, but it looked like you were at peace. That you were happy.
But still, he called out to you. He shook your body in hope that you could still return. If someone had just left this world, would love be enough to pull them back?
"No, no, no, c'mon, baby", he begged, caressing your face. "Come back to me, please", his tears fell on you and Jude pulled you to his arms. "Don't leave. Don't go without me.", he held you against his chest as he rocked back and forth. He was alone. His rock died and nothing could hold him safe now.
"Hey, cmon… don’t you know I love you so so much?", he looked at your face in hope you'd say something, anything. A witty remark or a silly joke… but nothing came out. He was alone. "I’m here, baby. I’ll protect you.. I love you so so much. Don't leave me here, okay? Don't leave me. I love you to everything."
And that’s it. Death doesn’t let you say goodbye. Death’s just a big cup of shut up right down your throat. You can’t go back and you can’t change anything. You can’t do anything but accept it. You can yell and cry and whine if it makes you feel better. But won’t change it. Can love fight death? Absolutely not. But can death override love? Hell no. Grief isn't an enemy of love, in fact it is proof of it. If grief is the price to pay for loving to everything, will you pay it?
Jude Bellingham || Love you to everything - the end
Summary: the funeral
AN: sorry in advance :( again
No one prepares you for the unnaturalness of death. Standing there in that silence, surrounded by ridiculous flowers( what was the point of them if you couldn't see them? ) Jude felt terrible. Everything you were had been violently compressed into a single wooden box. And everyone was so calm. They accepted it so easily. Jude wanted to punch them all. How could they be like that when he had lost everything? Everything. How could they exchange pleasantries and dare to say you were in a better place, when your place was by his side?
Jude was there, and you weren't and never would be again. The finality of death made him want to vomit. The future he had planned with you hadn't just changed course; it was over. There was nothing but a total void where a whole human being used to be.
Why did people keep walking and talking and eating and smiling and paying bills and buying things, when you had been denied your right to do so? A delivery truck rumbled noisily past the cemetery gates. People cleared their throats, checked the time beneath their coat sleeves, and whispered empty platitudes, as if everything were fine. Nothing was fucking fine.
When his teammates came to greet him, Jude wanted to roll his eyes at the lies they were telling him, and he knew you would have something ironic to say, and for a second he almost turned to meet your gaze, but then he was almost shocked to remember: she's not here, she's underground. Jude nearly lost his mind at the thought that this feeling would last for the rest of his life.
Jude remained by the graveside long after the mourners had offered their hollow condolences and retreated to the comfort of their heated cars. People had touched his shoulder, whispering about peace and better places, but Jude hadn’t heard a single word.
The world had ended, yet traffic still hummed on the highway in the distance. The universe’s indifference stirred such anger in him that he came to hate the way the world simply moved on while you were left behind. And he was forced to move on, whether he wanted to or not.
He didn’t know how to walk back to the car. He didn’t know how to drive back to an empty apartment. He didn’t know how to breathe without feeling an agonizing pain, but staying away from the home you both shared felt like a betrayal. What if your scent faded? What if he forgot the sound of your footsteps? So yeah, he went home, and when Jude finally stepped through the front door, everything got worse.
To Jude's relief, the apartment still smelled of you, your shoes were still right next to the living room dresser where you always left and he always tripped over them, and even the blanket you both used to cover yourselves on your last movie night was still unfolded and spread out on the sofa.
He loosened his tie, took off his uncomfortable shoes, and then began walking from room to room, trying to imprint it all in his memory. He couldn't let himself forget anything, but he already felt like it was slipping from his fingers. How can't it all be about the end when that's exactly where you are? When it's all there is. He finally entered the bedroom and sat on his side of the bed when he saw something in the nightstand. A letter.
Hi baby,
if you’re reading this, it means you’re sitting in our bedroom, looking ridiculous hot in a black suit, probably sulking and refusing to turn on the lights. Turn on the damn lamp, Jude. You know you hate the dark. First of all: I am so, so sorry for hiding that I was sick at the beginning. I know you were furious that I kept it from you and I get it. You were terrifying but also very sexy, if I may say so :)
Thank you for fighting for me. For getting me out of that horrible clinic like a superhero (that was also very very hot) and for never letting go of my hand, even when we both knew how this was going to end.
Im gonna miss you so much. It physically hurts to write this. I’m going to miss your laugh, your messy morning hair, your scent, and the way you look at me. I hate having to leave.
Now I need you to take what I tell you very serious: don't even think about shutting everyone out and rotting away in this apartment. If you turn into one of those tragic, melancholic hermits who only listens to sad music, I swear I’ll find a way to haunt you and knock your trophies off the shelf every single morning, Jude.
You need to lace up your boots and get back on the pitch. Football is who you are, Jude.You are my favorite footballer. Don't even think about quitting. I want to see you running, yelling at the refs, scoring goals, and doing that stupid, arrogant celebration I love. Every time you step onto that field, you take a piece of me with you. Play for both of us, okay?
Cook real food (and eat it), listen to music at high volume and let your friends get you out of the house. Keep your heart open, Jude. That's what made me fall in love with you.
I’m so proud of you, number 5. Go win everything.
I love you. I’m gonna miss you.
⁃ OC
Could you write a Jude x reader fanfic where the reader has a problem with sh? You don't have to answer if you don't feel comfortable!
hi :) sorry if i took too long 💕 hope u like it 🌱
tw: brief mention of sh
“You say you’ll always love me
But I might disagree
I just get confused a little
Cause I don’t know why you’re with me
Summer turns to winter
That's just thе way it goes
So when your world goes dark
Know it won't last for long”
It was therapy day, and Jude already knew when the session ended and was ready to pick you up. He had already opened the passenger door from the inside, so you slid into the leather seat, grabbed the handle, and pulled the door shut. You didn't greet him or even look at him. You simply fastened your seatbelt and stared out at the windshield through the rain. Needless to say, Jude was very surprised; that wasn't how you two usually interacted.
His hand hovered over the gearshift but he didn't start the engine.
“Hey,” he said in a low voice. “How did it go?”
“Fine.” Your tone was clipped. “Can we just drive?”
Jude’s eyes narrowed slightly. Instead of putting the car in gear, he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned toward you. “Well, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on. You walked out of that building like you couldn't even stand to look at me.”
“I’m just tired, Jude. Forget it.”
“No, I’m not going to forget it,” he said, his tone sharper now. “You’ve been pushing me away all week, but today you won't even look at me. What happened in there?”
“Nothing happened!” you snapped, finally turning to face him. “I just don’t want to talk about it with you, okay? Is that allowed, or do I have to report every detail of my therapy sessions to you now?”
Jude fell completely silent. A flash of anger crossed his features, and he clenched his jaw tight.
Things were getting ugly fast.
"Is that what you think is happening?" he asked. "gosh, you're so stubborn! I bring you here every week because I care about you, and you just sit there treating me like I'm the enemy."
"Well I didn't ask you to bring me!" you shouted, frustration spilling over. "I didn't ask you to play babysitter! You've got a tough week ahead… games, practice, real pressure but instead, you're spending the afternoon acting as a chauffeur for someone who's completely falling apart!"
"Stop, stop putting words in my mouth!" Jude slammed his palm against the steering wheel, the sound echoing sharply in the quiet car.
You flinched, but he didn't even notice; he was fed up with your way of thinking. Jude knew about your problems, your struggles with self-harm… none of it was new so why were you acting like this now?
"Oh cmon, don’t sit there acting like I'm doing this out of obligation," he demanded, his voice trembling with anger. "It pisses me off that you shut me out the moment things get hard, like you think you're protecting me. Do you think you're a burden? Do you think I'm going to wake up one day, look at you and decide it's too much work?"
"Yes, you will!" you exclaimed, as tears finally broke through the barrier you’d built. "It's too much, Jude! It's too heavy, and eventually, you're going to get tired of dealing with me! You know it!”
"I'm not going anywhere!" Jude shouted back, cupping your face in both hands. "I chose you! Every part of you! You’re never a burden to me, so stop pushing me away! Why do you think I'm so weak that I can't handle your heavy days, when you handle mine without a second thought? It works both ways, pretty girl. You don't get to love me through my mess and then lock me out of yours. I don't care how heavy it gets. I'm in this with you. So stop fighting me and let me stay here, okay?”
Can you right a jude bellingham x reader where the reader opens up about her past trauma of abuse and sexual assault to her bf jude
hi :) sorry it took me this long. hope you like it and I hope that everyone that ever went through this find healing and understanding. there’s a place where comfort and happiness awaits , believe me 💕
tw: mentions of past physical abuse, past abusive relationships
“Can I run and hide?
I'm stuck inside my memories
Step away from time
Take me to a place
Where I will never grow old”
Jude was sitting on the sofa, a heavy blanket covering his legs and his arm resting lightly on the backrest, right behind you. He didn't invade your space; instead, he let you come to him.
“Hey,” he said softly. “You seem miles away tonight…. Is everything okay?”
You lowered your gaze to your hands resting in your lap; your fingers were nervously interlaced. If you’ve ever felt that tightness in your chest… like your heart was being punched…. you know the feeling. It’s a loneliness mixed with despair that simply won’t go away; it’s always there. The weight remains. The guilt, the confusion, the bitterness never leave you. And it clouds everything around you: your relationships, your choices, your words... It’s like being... stained.
“Jude...” You swallowed hard and took a shaky breath. “There’s... something I need to tell you. About my past. From before I met you.”
Jude didn’t make any sudden movements or tense up. Instead, he simply shifted his posture, turning his body toward you. He rested his forearms on his knees, fixing his dark eyes on yours.
“I’m listening. Take all the time you need, pretty girl. Do you want to hold my hand?” he asked, extending his palm toward you but leaving the final decision up to you.
You nodded, sliding your fingers into his large, warm hand. He gently wrapped his fingers around yours, while his thumb began a slow motion over the back of your hand.
Then, you began to speak.
You didn’t hide the truth. you laid out the harsh reality of what you had survived: the fear, the shattered trust, the physical pain, and the devastating violations that left such deep scars. Your voice trembled and faltered at times, but you kept going, finally revealing the story you had kept secret for so long. It was your story, after all, and hiding it was killing you.
Jude remained completely composed throughout it all. His jaw tightened slightly and a flash of deep pain crossed his eyes as he heard everything you had endured, but he didn't interrupt. He simply held your hand, squeezing it as you spoke.
When the final words finally left your lips, there was a moment of silence.
"Thank you for trusting me enough to share this," Jude whispered, his voice filled with genuine tenderness. "It must have been so hard to tell me. I can't even imagine."
"I was worried," you murmured, looking at him through the tears that were finally starting to fall. "I didn't want you to look at me differently."
Jude leaned slightly toward you.
"Look at me," he said gently. When you met his gaze, he continued, "You aren't broken. What happened to you was terrible, and it was never your fault. But when I look at you, all I see is the person I love. You’re safe here with me. Always. We’ll move forward at your pace, in your time."
And then you realized that some of that weight had lifted; the stain seemed smaller. You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his chest and listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.
Jude shifted carefully and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a wide, firm embrace that felt like finally being home. He rested his chin on the top of your head and rocked you gently. "I love you. And I’ll protect you forever. I promise with my life."
He fell silent for a moment, his chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. His grip on your waist tightened just a fraction, as if he were anchoring himself to you.
"You know..." Jude began. "A huge part of me, right now, wants a name. And an address."
You pulled back slightly to look at him. His eyes were burning with that terrifying intensity he’d show whenever someone took a cheap shot at a teammate on the field—but magnified a thousand times over. He was furious.
"I’m serious," he murmured, his hands resting firmly on your hips. "If you give me a name, I can make a call. Or I can handle it myself. Just tell me what you want, babe. You name it, and it’s done. If you want me to destroy their lives, I’ll do it without hesitation. I’m not messing around."
He searched your face earnestly, making sure you understood he meant every word and that he was fully prepared to deliver justice however you needed it. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on the tip of your nose, then on your forehead.
I know, babe... but no names," you whispered softly, reaching up to rest your palm against his cheek. "No addresses. I don't want you touching any of that dirt. I not there anymore. I just wanted you to know. I just wanted to be safe, you know?”
Jude nodded and he could see you were tense so he decided do try and make you laugh.
"Come to think of it... I’m an athlete. My league suspension would be astronomical and you’d kill me before the police even got the chance."
A small laugh escaped your chest.
"See? I made you smile," Jude whispered softly, his thumb gently wiping a solitary tear from your cheek. He pulled you back against his chest, adjusting the blanket around the two of you. "I love you. I’m staying with you until the end."
hiyaaaaa! i loved your recent fic where jude stutters in front of reader, do you think you could write more about him? i could definitely see him stuttering on the first date, or even after months of dating
Just posted here and I’m thinking about extending it a little further so stay tuned:) 💕 x
Summary: Jude Bellingham walking into a quiet boutique to ask out the person who completely threw him off his game on Saturday
It was Tuesday afternoon. You were behind the counter, half-heartedly counting the weekend’s inventory, or at least trying to. Since Saturday, your concentration had been running at about fifty percent capacity; the other fifty was focused on the tall, dark haired footballer who smelled of sweat and Dior. Jude hadn't left your mind, and who could blame you?
That was when the brass bell above the shop’s heavy wooden door chimed, snapping you back to reality.
"I'll be right with you!" you called out, grabbing a stack of freshly printed receipts from the counter without looking up. "Feel free to browse; just let me know if you need—"
"I brought words this time."
You froze.
Standing right in the doorway, adjusting a baseball cap and trying to go unnoticed, was Jude. Honestly, seeing him now far from the roaring crowds and the stadium’s blinding floodlights he looked much more like Denise’s son than England’s number ten.
His hands were shoved deep into his pockets; he hovered awkwardly near the entrance, trying not to touch anything.
"You actually did?" you asked, resting your elbows on the counter as a smile began to form on your lips. "Full sentences, or are we starting with nouns and verbs?"
Jude let out a laugh. "Complete sentences. I practiced in the car on the way here. I had a whole script and everything."
"Oh, a script? Should I be worried?"
"Extremely," he said, stopping in front of the shop window right ahead of them. Up close, his dark eyes were shining, filled with a nervous, highly focused energy that was ridiculously charming for someone who usually stepped onto the field on live TV without a second thought. "Step one was making sure I didn't trip over the welcome mat on my way in."
"Wow. And how did that go?"
"Flawless," he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "Look... Step two is apologizing: I was really embarrassed about the stadium thing. Usually, I’m... I don't know. A lot more put-together than that."
"You did well," you reassured him. "You seemed a little startled, maybe. Oh and you are taller than I expected."
Jude grimaced, hiding his face in his hand for a brief second as you laughed. "'You're a normal height'…. who actually says that?! It felt like my brain had completely rebooted."
"It was cute," you said before you could stop yourself. Jude looked at you, and the rest of the shop: the ticking of the clock, the low hum of the street outside seemed to fade away completely. It was just you and him.
"Cute, huh?" he asked, a slow, subtle smile beginning to form at the corner of his lips.
"Don't let it go to your head, Bellingham," you said playfully, feeling a faint blush rise to your cheeks. "You still have to prove you won't stutter."
"Fair enough," Jude said softly, his eyes locked on yours with unmistakable intent. "How about I prove it over dinner? Tonight. With actual words."
You tilted your head, suppressing a smile. "Is that step three?"
"No," Jude smiled genuinely as his fingers kept drumming casually on the wooden counter just inches from yours. "Step three was asking you out. Step four is hoping you say yes."
i was wondering if you could write a jude x reader?
where the reader basically works with denise ( idk if she actually works byt yk) and one day she asks if reader wants to go the match with her and meet jude and when she does jude is like awe struck and just like cant get his words out. and mid convo reader has to take a call and whilst shes walking away jude cant stop looking and denise basically realises!!! you can do whatever with the ending <3 thank youuuuuu!!
Jude Bellingham x oc || the King doesn’t smile like she does
AN: hope you like it ❤️ x
You had been working with Denise for two years before you found out exactly who her son was. To be honest, the way she spoke about him, it hadn't been one hundred percent clear.
She would mention him so simply like:”my son’s traveling again," "he’s got a game this weekend". Those typical complaints from a proud mother whose son worked too hard and called too little. But you hadn't really grasped that "my son plays football" meant THAT level of football. Well, not until she casually invited you to a match one Saturday. That changed the moment you and she walked into the stadium's restricted area.
"You never said," you whispered, as she led you through a gate that clearly required a level of access you didn't have.
"I didn't think it’d make a difference." Denise flashed a pass at the security guard like it was nothing. "He’s still just my Jude. Come on, let’s say hi before the game starts; he likes meeting my friends from the shop."
Jude cut his warm up short and jogged over when he spotted his mother. He was sweaty and smiling, and you could have sworn his smile grew even wider when he saw you were with her.
"This is..." Denise began.
"Hi," Jude said, a bit too quickly, accidentally cutting his mom off. "Sorry. Hi. I’m... you’re... Mum’s told me about you. The, um... the person from the shop."
“The person from the shop,” you repeated, suppressing a smile.
“That came out wrong.” He ran a hand through his hair, which only made things worse. “I mean… she talks about you. Good things. Very good things. By the way, my name is Jude, which you obviously know, everyone knows. Shit, that was a stupid thing to say…”
“He usually knows more words.” Denise said with satisfaction, watching her son completely it.
“I know lots of words, Mom,” Jude said, visibly at a loss for words. “I talk… a lot. I just… You’re taller than I expected. No… that’s not it… I mean, you aren’t tall; you’re a normal height. I don’t know why I said that…”
Your phone rang in your bag. You took it out, glanced at the screen. “Sorry, I need to take this—it’s a work thing. Just a second…”
“Sure,” Jude said, still a bit flustered. “Don’t worry about it.”
You took a few steps back, phone to your ear, half turning to the field, laughing at something the person on the other end said and COMPLETELY oblivious to the fact that Jude hadn’t actually gone back to talking to his mother.
He was watching you. Totally, unabashedly( that’s a word I swear) and forgetting he had a warm-up to finish, forgetting his mother was right beside him, forgetting, apparently, the basic functions of a normal human being.
Denise looked at her son. She looked at you, three meters away, laughing on the phone. jude wore the exact same expression he’d had at age nine while watching game highlights before bed, only now, that look was directed at you.
“Son.”
“Yeah?”
“Your mouth is hanging open.”
“It’s not...” He closed his mouth. He opened it again a second later, unsure of what to do, while you laughed again at whatever the call was about, your head tilted slightly back. “Mom.”
“Yes, dear.”
“I don’t think I can go back to warm-ups.”
“You have to go back to warm-ups; there are eighty thousand people out there.”
“Right. Yeah. No, you’re right.” He didn’t move. “Mom.”
“Yes, Jude.”
“Do you think she... is she seeing anyone? Do you know? You’d know, right? You would’ve mentioned it...”
“I definitely would have mentioned that, yes.” Denise was fighting to keep from grinning broadly now. “I’ve never seen you like this. You met the King and weren’t this quiet.”
“The King didn’t laugh the way she does.”
“Oh, Jude.”
You ended the call and turned around, putting your phone away. “Sorry about that. Work is chaos this week. What were we talking about?”
“I was talking about how my son is usually very articulate,” Denise helpfully remarked. “Captain and all that. Gives interviews. AND speak full sentences, usually.”
Jude wanted the ground to swallow him up.
A whistle blew somewhere behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder.
“I need to go back,” he said. “But... I’d really like to. If that’s okay. We’ll talk later. For real. With actual words next time, I promise; I do have a full personality..”
“I already like what I see very very much ,” you said, smiling now despite yourself. “But I’d like that. Actual words sound like a good idea.” He flashed a wide grin and jogged backward toward the field for a few steps before remembering to turn around, nearly bumping into a teammate along the way.
Denise watched him walk away and then turned to you.
“So,” she said pleasantly. “How do you feel about football?”
“I don’t...” You paused, looking toward the field, where Jude clearly wasn’t focused on his warm-up. “I think I’m starting to get interested.”
“Hmm,” Denise said, thoroughly pleased, linking her arm through yours to lead you to your seats. “I’m sure you are, my dear.”
Summary: does love have an end? The longing ever stops? Do you recognize death when it comes for you?
AN: sorry in advance :( and also let me know what u think :)
Next part
Some people say a person knows when she's about to die. It's not something that science can explain, but the person knows. She can feel that her last moments are happening as they passed and that soon, they won't be there anymore. That was what you felt when you laid down that night with Jude by your side. In that particular night you both ordered his favorite pizza and drank beer until both your cheeks were red. Jude seemed happy. He told you about his day and you told him about the recent reels you watched on Instagram and even showed him some. He rolled down laughing as he watched some of them in loop. It wasn't a special night at all and if you weren't feeling the end coming you'd never enjoy ever passing second of it. Thank God you did. Thank God you didn't miss a single smile Jude offered or a single kiss he gave you.
That night he tucked you tight making sure you wouldn't feel any kind of drift from your other side and laid beside you wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. If anybody asked, neither of you would be able to say who was holding who to earth. You both became a trustable rock for each other. You nested your head in his neck as Jude whispered sweet words to you like he always did: I love you, you are my life, you make my heart race, I love you to everything.
You weren't sure when exactly you stop hearing his voice.
And it was that day, August 1st, 2026 that you left. You couldn't complain. You lived a good life. Not a long one, but definitely good.
If someone asked you how you would like to die, perhaps that would be your answer: in the arms of the one you love, listening to his voice until you take your last breath. That the warmth of the arms of the one you loved could be the last thing you felt. No pain, no screams, no hospitals and machines. Just you and him.
Now just him.
Now just you.
Bellingham only woke up in the morning. He didn't need long to understand that you weren’t there anymore. Your face was pale, but it looked like you were at peace. That you were happy.
But still, he called out to you. He shook your body in hope that you could still return. If someone had just left this world, would love be enough to pull them back?
"No, no, no, c'mon, baby", he begged, caressing your face. "Come back to me, please", his tears fell on you and Jude pulled you to his arms. "Don't leave. Don't go without me.", he held you against his chest as he rocked back and forth. He was alone. His rock died and nothing could hold him safe now.
"Hey, cmon… don’t you know I love you so so much?", he looked at your face in hope you'd say something, anything. A witty remark or a silly joke… but nothing came out. He was alone. "I’m here, baby. I’ll protect you.. I love you so so much. Don't leave me here, okay? Don't leave me. I love you to everything."
And that’s it. Death doesn’t let you say goodbye. Death’s just a big cup of shut up right down your throat. You can’t go back and you can’t change anything. You can’t do anything but accept it. You can yell and cry and whine if it makes you feel better. But won’t change it. Can love fight death? Absolutely not. But can death override love? Hell no. Grief isn't an enemy of love, in fact it is proof of it. If grief is the price to pay for loving to everything, will you pay it?
i was wondering if you could write a jude x reader?
where the reader basically works with denise ( idk if she actually works byt yk) and one day she asks if reader wants to go the match with her and meet jude and when she does jude is like awe struck and just like cant get his words out. and mid convo reader has to take a call and whilst shes walking away jude cant stop looking and denise basically realises!!! you can do whatever with the ending <3 thank youuuuuu!!
Jude Bellingham x oc || the King doesn’t smile like she does
AN: hope you like it ❤️ x
You had been working with Denise for two years before you found out exactly who her son was. To be honest, the way she spoke about him, it hadn't been one hundred percent clear.
She would mention him so simply like:”my son’s traveling again," "he’s got a game this weekend". Those typical complaints from a proud mother whose son worked too hard and called too little. But you hadn't really grasped that "my son plays football" meant THAT level of football. Well, not until she casually invited you to a match one Saturday. That changed the moment you and she walked into the stadium's restricted area.
"You never said," you whispered, as she led you through a gate that clearly required a level of access you didn't have.
"I didn't think it’d make a difference." Denise flashed a pass at the security guard like it was nothing. "He’s still just my Jude. Come on, let’s say hi before the game starts; he likes meeting my friends from the shop."
Jude cut his warm up short and jogged over when he spotted his mother. He was sweaty and smiling, and you could have sworn his smile grew even wider when he saw you were with her.
"This is..." Denise began.
"Hi," Jude said, a bit too quickly, accidentally cutting his mom off. "Sorry. Hi. I’m... you’re... Mum’s told me about you. The, um... the person from the shop."
“The person from the shop,” you repeated, suppressing a smile.
“That came out wrong.” He ran a hand through his hair, which only made things worse. “I mean… she talks about you. Good things. Very good things. By the way, my name is Jude, which you obviously know, everyone knows. Shit, that was a stupid thing to say…”
“He usually knows more words.” Denise said with satisfaction, watching her son completely it.
“I know lots of words, Mom,” Jude said, visibly at a loss for words. “I talk… a lot. I just… You’re taller than I expected. No… that’s not it… I mean, you aren’t tall; you’re a normal height. I don’t know why I said that…”
Your phone rang in your bag. You took it out, glanced at the screen. “Sorry, I need to take this—it’s a work thing. Just a second…”
“Sure,” Jude said, still a bit flustered. “Don’t worry about it.”
You took a few steps back, phone to your ear, half turning to the field, laughing at something the person on the other end said and COMPLETELY oblivious to the fact that Jude hadn’t actually gone back to talking to his mother.
He was watching you. Totally, unabashedly( that’s a word I swear) and forgetting he had a warm-up to finish, forgetting his mother was right beside him, forgetting, apparently, the basic functions of a normal human being.
Denise looked at her son. She looked at you, three meters away, laughing on the phone. jude wore the exact same expression he’d had at age nine while watching game highlights before bed, only now, that look was directed at you.
“Son.”
“Yeah?”
“Your mouth is hanging open.”
“It’s not...” He closed his mouth. He opened it again a second later, unsure of what to do, while you laughed again at whatever the call was about, your head tilted slightly back. “Mom.”
“Yes, dear.”
“I don’t think I can go back to warm-ups.”
“You have to go back to warm-ups; there are eighty thousand people out there.”
“Right. Yeah. No, you’re right.” He didn’t move. “Mom.”
“Yes, Jude.”
“Do you think she... is she seeing anyone? Do you know? You’d know, right? You would’ve mentioned it...”
“I definitely would have mentioned that, yes.” Denise was fighting to keep from grinning broadly now. “I’ve never seen you like this. You met the King and weren’t this quiet.”
“The King didn’t laugh the way she does.”
“Oh, Jude.”
You ended the call and turned around, putting your phone away. “Sorry about that. Work is chaos this week. What were we talking about?”
“I was talking about how my son is usually very articulate,” Denise helpfully remarked. “Captain and all that. Gives interviews. AND speak full sentences, usually.”
Jude wanted the ground to swallow him up.
A whistle blew somewhere behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder.
“I need to go back,” he said. “But... I’d really like to. If that’s okay. We’ll talk later. For real. With actual words next time, I promise; I do have a full personality..”
“I already like what I see very very much ,” you said, smiling now despite yourself. “But I’d like that. Actual words sound like a good idea.” He flashed a wide grin and jogged backward toward the field for a few steps before remembering to turn around, nearly bumping into a teammate along the way.
Denise watched him walk away and then turned to you.
“So,” she said pleasantly. “How do you feel about football?”
“I don’t...” You paused, looking toward the field, where Jude clearly wasn’t focused on his warm-up. “I think I’m starting to get interested.”
“Hmm,” Denise said, thoroughly pleased, linking her arm through yours to lead you to your seats. “I’m sure you are, my dear.”
Summary: you rearranged something for the upcoming future.
Her name was Dr. Reyes. She did house calls. She was good at... well. At this.
You had written it all on a card and left it where he would find it, and then, on the Tuesday she was supposed to come, you simply told him, in the note shortcut:
someone will come at 2. for you. don't be mad.
Jude was mad.
"You did what?" He was standing at the foot of the bed holding the card, and you could see the specific tension in his jaw that meant he was pissed. "You made an appointment for me with a psychologist? Without consulting me?"
You held his stare and didn't move one bit.
"I don't need one," he said. "I'm not... I'm okay, I'm managing... I don't want to spend an hour talking to a stranger. You understand that every hour is... I gave up everything so that every hour I have left can be spent in this room, with you, and now you want me to go sit in the kitchen and talk to someone I've never seen about my feelings? While you're right here? That's the craziest thing you've ever done. I'm not going to do it. Im not."
You stared at him for a long moment. Then you patted the bed beside you and he came, because he always did. You said softly:
"This isn't for now. It's for when later comes."
His face changed completely.
"No," he said softly. "Don't do this."
"I need to. You won't let me talk about what's going to happen and you need to talk to someone. You need someone you don’t have to be okay with and that person isn’t me anymore, that’s why I called her. She’s very good. Let me do this last thing. I can’t fix much more. Let me fix this.”
He was silent for a long time, his hand in his.
“You’re unbelievable,” he said finally, his voice choked. “You’re really… you’re dying and you’re managing my grief. You booked post-mortem care for me.” As if I were a… as if this were a… “He couldn’t finish. He pressed the back of his hand against his forehead. “Why are you like this?”
“Because I love you and because she’s as good at being a pain in the ass as I am.”
That elicited a genuine laugh, and he brought his hand to his mouth and held it there.
“I don’t want a replacement to be a pain in the ass,” he said against his knuckles. “I want the original.”
“I know. Me too.” But the original made an appointment for you, and the original will be extremely angry if you cancel, and you don't want to upset a dying woman because that's terrible for your reputation.”
“How low.”
“I have very little to lose, baby. I'm playing with all my cards.”
At two o'clock, the doorbell rang.
You heard their low murmur as they introduced themselves in the hallway. You heard him, stiff, polite, and terrified, offer her a cup of tea. And you leaned back on the pillows, exhausted and satisfied, for having done the only thing you could still do for him: offer a shoulder to cry on while you were no longer here.
Later, after she left, Jude came and lay down beside you and rested his head on your chest, careful, gentle, as he did everything now.
“She's coming back next week,” he admitted, in a low voice. “I said yes. Don't get cocky.”
