Christmas Morning at 6 A.M.
Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader
Kenan Yildiz Masterlist | Football Masterlist | Football Masterlist II
You wake up to whispering.
Not the soft, accidental kind. The very intentional kind.
You groan and roll over, pulling the duvet over your head. “It’s illegal to speak.”
You crack one eye open. The room is still dark, the curtains barely letting in the faint blue of early morning. Your phone buzzes on the bedside table.
You stare at it. Then at the shape hovering beside the bed.
Jude is crouched there like a child on Christmas morning,because he is a child on Christmas morning,eyes bright, hair sticking up in every direction, grin impossible to miss even in the dark.
“You are kidding me,” you mumble.
He whispers, somehow even louder, “It’s Christmas.”
“Yes,” he agrees enthusiastically. “Christmas at six.”
You flop back onto the pillow. “Go back to sleep.”
You pull the duvet tighter around yourself. “We said we’d wake up at a normal time.”
He laughs, a quiet, breathy laugh like he’s trying not to wake the entire building. “I’ve been awake since five.”
Your head snaps toward him. “Why.”
He shrugs, unapologetic. “I was excited.”
“I am,” he agrees. “A grown man with presents.”
You close your eyes again. “I hate you.”
He leans closer. “You love me.”
You sigh. “…unfortunately.”
He grins wider. “So you’re getting up?”
He thinks for a second. You can practically hear the gears turning.
Then he gently pokes your cheek.
You swat his hand away. “Don’t.”
He pokes you again. “Get up.”
You pull the pillow over your head.
He pauses. Then you feel warmth as he climbs onto the bed, careful but clearly impatient, lying half on top of you.
“Absolutely not,” you warn.
“I just want to cuddle,” he says innocently.
He presses his face into your neck, cold nose making you shiver. “Merry Christmas.”
You groan despite yourself. “Your nose is freezing.”
“Yeah, because I’ve been up pacing like a lunatic.”
“I was trying not to wake you,” he says, offended.
He presses a kiss just below your ear. “Worth it.”
You turn your head slightly. “If I get up, will you stop being annoying?”
He gasps. “I’m not annoying.”
“You are deeply annoying.”
He smiles against your skin. “But you’re smiling.”
You hate that he’s right.
“Fine,” you mumble. “But if I fall asleep on the sofa, that’s on you.”
He practically beams. “Deal.”
You push yourself upright, hair a mess, eyes barely open. Jude immediately scrambles off the bed like he’s been waiting for permission his entire life.
“Yes!” he whispers, fist pumping.
You squint at him. “Why are you whispering?”
“Christmas magic,” he says seriously.
You drag yourself out of bed, pulling his hoodie over your pyjamas because it’s closest. He watches you do it with obvious satisfaction.
“That’s mine,” he points out.
He hums. “You look better in it anyway.”
You pad into the living room, blinking at the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights. The room feels warm and quiet, wrapped in that specific early-morning stillness where it feels like the world hasn’t woken up yet.
Jude flops down on the floor in front of the tree immediately.
You stare. “You didn’t even wait.”
“I have been waiting,” he argues. “For hours.”
You sit on the sofa, pulling the blanket around your shoulders. “You could’ve waited longer.”
He looks at you like you’ve suggested something deeply unreasonable. “That’s not how Christmas works.”
“You’re twenty-two,” you remind him.
You laugh softly. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Come sit down here,” he says, patting the spot next to him.
You hesitate. “It’s cold.”
He grins. “I’ll keep you warm.”
You slide down next to him anyway, back against the sofa, knees brushing. He immediately scoots closer, tucking his leg against yours.
He reaches for the first present, hands almost vibrating. “This one’s for you.”
You squint at it. “How do you know?”
“Because I wrapped it terribly,” he says proudly.
You take it from him. “You’re watching me unwrap it like it’s a final exam.”
You start peeling the paper carefully.
He groans. “No, no,rip it.”
“You told me not to waste wrapping paper.”
“That was before Christmas adrenaline.”
You laugh and tear it open properly.
When you see what’s inside, you pause.
It’s small. Thoughtful. Something you mentioned once in passing months ago.
You look up at him. “Jude…”
His grin softens, turning shy. “You said you liked it.”
He shrugs. “I remembered.”
Your chest warms in that quiet, overwhelming way that has nothing to do with the heater.
“Thank you,” you say softly.
He shrugs again, pretending it’s nothing. “Open the other one.”
You smile. “Unfortunately.”
He laughs, nudging you. “My turn.”
You hand him his gift. He holds it like it might explode.
“Okay,” he says, suddenly serious. “I am going to be calm.”
He tears into the paper with reckless enthusiasm, bits flying everywhere. You snort.
“Careful,” you tease. “You’ll hurt the wrapping paper’s feelings.”
He ignores you completely, eyes lighting up as he sees what’s inside.
You watch him like he’s the present. “You like it?”
He looks at you, genuinely stunned. “You remembered.”
“You said you missed it.”
He swallows, blinking. “I didn’t think you’d,”
You nudge his knee. “It’s Christmas.”
He laughs softly, then leans over and pulls you into a hug so sudden you squeak.
“Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. “Seriously.”
You wrap your arms around him, cheek against his chest. “You’re welcome.”
He stays like that for a second longer than necessary.
Then he pulls back, eyes bright again. “Next one.”
You shake your head, laughing, and grab another gift.
By the time the presents are done, the sky outside is just beginning to lighten. Wrapping paper is everywhere. Jude is leaning back against the sofa, legs stretched out, looking deeply content.
You sit beside him, sipping coffee he insisted on making despite barely being awake.
“This is my favorite Christmas,” he says suddenly.
You glance at him. “Yeah?”
He looks at you like the answer is obvious. “Because it’s normal.”
You smile softly. “Normal?”
“No interviews. No flights. No schedule.” He gestures around. “Just us. And you wearing my hoodie.”
You tug it tighter around yourself. “It is a good hoodie.”
He bumps his shoulder into yours. “Stay like this all day?”
You yawn. “I plan on not moving.”
“Perfect,” he says. “We can watch movies.”
He grins. “It’s Christmas.”
You rest your head on his shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Jude.”
He kisses the top of your head, warm and lingering. “Merry Christmas.”
Outside, the city slowly wakes up.
Inside, it’s still just the two of you,wrapped in blankets, laughter, and the kind of warmth that doesn’t come from heaters or lights.
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