Jude Bellingham X Reader - Blog Posts

Hey, could you write something for Jude where the reader is tired of the game? One day, he was all hers,intense looks, lingering touches, words that made her heart race. The next, he was cold and distant, as if nothing had ever happened. She tried not to care, to pretend it didn’t bother her. But every ignored message, every unexplained absence, only made the knot in her chest tighten. Did he really love her? Or was she just a distraction for his lonely days?

Please think about it!!!! 🙏🙏🙏🙏

❦ - lonely days.

warnings:: angst, no closure & self care also no happy ending.

writers notes:: this is the last fic on my list so i wrote this in a crisis @barcapix iykyk 💔.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb @mariejuli

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

one day, he was all yours.

the way he looked at you like there was no one else in the world.
fingers tracing the edge of your wrist like he was memorizing it.
words he only said when the room was dark and the space between you was just barely enough to breathe.

‘you get under my skin like no one else.’
‘don’t ever leave.’
‘this feels like more, doesn’t it?’

you’d believed him. every time.

because it did feel like more.

until it didn’t.

the next day, he was cold.
distant. unreadable.

no good morning texts. no soft smiles. no warmth in his voice.

he’d brush past you like your body wasn’t one he held against his just nights ago.

you’d send a message.

hey. you good?

left on delivered. for hours.

then days.

you tried not to care. really, you did.

told yourself he was busy. that he didn’t owe you anything. that it wasn’t serious.

but your chest told another story.

a tight knot that only grew worse with every silence, every excuse, every moment he proved he could disappear just as fast as he showed up.

you saw him laughing at a party once, eyes shining, arms around someone else.

not touching her the way he touched you.
but still enough to hurt.

he caught your eye from across the room.

and for a split second, he looked guilty.

then he looked away.

you sat in your car that night, keys still in the ignition, phone in your hand.

did you ever really care? or was i just a distraction for when you were lonely?

you didn’t send it.

you didn’t need to.

the silence already answered for him.

you never got your closure.

no text. no call. no explanation.

just… distance.

and over time, that silence turned into something else
not peace exactly, but a quieter kind of pain.

the kind you learned to live with.

the kind that stopped stinging every time you heard his name.

you started showing up again.

not for him, but for yourself.

brighter lip gloss. louder music in your car. smiling at strangers just to feel a little something warm in return.

you still thought of him sometimes
when your favorite song came on.
when someone said “you look happy lately.”

but mostly, you just… moved.

forward. slowly.

and jude noticed.

at first it was a glance.

you walked past him in a crowded room, head held high, a soft laugh falling from your lips, and he looked.

then came the double take. the long stares.
the quiet moments when he thought you didn’t notice him watching.

but you did.

you just didn’t care anymore.

he finally texted one night.

can we talk?

you stared at the screen for a full minute before locking your phone again.

not out of anger.

but because there was nothing left to say.

you’d already cried. already questioned everything. already pieced yourself back together.

you weren’t angry. you weren’t bitter.

you were just… done.

and jude?

he was the one sitting in his car now, staring at his phone, wondering how it all slipped through his hands so easily.

he replayed every moment like a highlight reel he couldn’t turn off.

you smiling in his hoodie.
you falling asleep on his chest.
you whispering “don’t make me regret this.”

he did.

some nights, he thinks about texting again.

but he knows better now.

you weren’t a maybe.

you were always almost, until you weren’t.

and now you’re untouchable.

because you stopped waiting for him to choose you.

and chose yourself instead.

Yes pt2 of the Jude fic plis

❦ - not enough for you. part 2.

summary:: ‘and with hardship comes ease.’ here is finally your ease.

warnings:: THIS WAS LEFT IN MY DRAFTS FOR ALMOST A MONTH.

writers note:: i am SO sorry it took this long? but here’s part one as well.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb

it had been weeks.

weeks since you walked out of his apartment, since you left behind the life you had built together. weeks of silence, of pretending you were okay, of waking up in an empty bed and forcing yourself not to check your phone.

you tried to move on. threw yourself into work, took on extra projects, stayed late at the office just to avoid coming home to the quiet. you told yourself you were fine. that you had made the right choice. that love should never come at the expense of yourself.

but god, you missed him.

you missed the way he’d pull you into his arms at the end of a long day, the way he’d press lazy kisses to your temple while you worked, the way he’d always keep a hand on you, your knee, your back, your fingers tangled with his, like he needed to know you were there.

some nights, you swore you could still hear his laugh echoing in the corners of your apartment. some mornings, you still reached for him in bed before remembering he wasn’t there.

and it hurt. because for all the love you had for him, it hadn’t been enough. and that truth sat heavy on your chest, refusing to fade.

then, one night, your phone rang.

his name flashed across the screen. your breath caught.

for a moment, you considered ignoring it. letting it go to voicemail. but something in you, something stubborn, something still so deeply tied to him, made you press accept.

‘hey,’ his voice was rough, like he hadn’t been sleeping.

you swallowed, gripping your phone tighter. ‘hey.’

silence.

‘i don’t know how to do this,’ he admitted, voice quiet. ‘how to be without you.’

your eyes burned. ‘you’re not without me, jude. i’m still here. i just… i just couldn’t keep choosing you over myself.’

a harsh exhale. ‘i know. and i hate that i made you feel like you had to.’

his voice cracked on the last word, and something inside you splintered.

‘it wasn’t fair,’ you whispered. ‘you wanted me to be someone i’m not. and that’s not love, jude. love isn’t asking someone to sacrifice who they are to fit into your world.’

he was quiet for so long you thought maybe he wouldn’t respond. but then,

‘i know,’ he said, voice hoarse. ‘i’ve been thinking about it. about us. about what i did wrong. and you were right. i wanted you to fit into my life, but i never stopped to think about how i could fit into yours.’

your throat tightened. ‘jude…’

‘i was selfish,’ he continued, not letting you interrupt. ‘i thought love meant you’d follow me anywhere, that you’d drop everything because you loved me. but i never stopped to think about how much you already had to lose. and that’s not fair. it’s not fair to you.’

a tear slipped down your cheek.

‘i miss you,’ he admitted, voice breaking. ‘but more than that, i miss being the person who made you happy. and i don’t know if we can fix this. but i want to try. if you’ll let me.’

your breath hitched.

for weeks, you had convinced yourself that he would never understand. that he would always expect you to fit into his world, to mold yourself into something easier, something more convenient. but this—this was him trying.

this was him choosing to meet you in the middle.

‘if we try again,’ you said carefully, ‘things have to be different. i need to know that you see me, jude. that you respect what i want for myself just as much as i respect what you want for yourself.’

‘i do,’ he said without hesitation. ‘i swear i do. i just… i don’t want to do this without you.’

you exhaled shakily, pressing your fingers to your temple.

‘can i see you?’ he asked after a beat. ‘not to fix everything right now, not to force anything. just… to see you.’

your heart ached. you knew this was a risk. that loving him, choosing him again, meant trusting that he would follow through on his promises. but a part of you, the part that never stopped loving him, wanted to believe that he could.

so you swallowed past the lump in your throat and whispered, ‘yeah. okay.’

and for the first time in weeks, hope felt like something real. something worth holding onto.

https://www.tumblr.com/joaosnovia/775907548933013504/hi-could-you-write-something-where-the-reader?source=share

Now to this anon, with that much detail in the fic request you could've written that yourself. Just be talented and shy.

(I'm not the anon)

unfortunately i get requests like this all the time lmaooo! i don’t mind them sometimes they’re funny but i like long detailed ones. you’d be surprised bc i actually have a LONG request w an insane amount of detail in my inbox that im putting off because it actually scared me.. anyways yeah i honestly get them a lot and im glad people are noticing the long requests but in all honesty i really don’t mind 😭.

hey guysss since schools started again i’ll be quite slow on requests but i PROMISE to get them all done within the next 3 weeks! i didn’t expect to get this many but i love and appreciate every single one i receive so thank you for all the support and patience!! xx 🤍

Hiii!! I need a bit of angst with Jude, something where he and the reader break up because he expects her to put his career first. But she also wants to have a solid career, make a name for herself, and be someone in her own right. He wants her to be like the other footballers' wives, but she isn’t that kind of person, she doesn’t have that availability, nor would she give up everything she worked for to live that way. This ends up hurting him, and he can’t understand why she wouldn’t do that for him. You can end it however you want, I honestly can’t imagine a proper ending.

Your writing is incredible, you manage to turn everything into something amazing. 🫶🏼

❦ - not enough to keep you.

summary:: you’re jude’s girlfriend and want to pursue a career of your own but he’s holding you back.

warnings:: angst, no happy ending / no ending? (you guys can make up the ending or i can make a part 2 idk?)

writers note:: this is one of the fics where i finished writing and i verbally had to say ‘oh.’ yeah jude is a cunt in this! and thank u for the lovely message at the bottom i love you all sm! 🤍

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added or removed !

you stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your heart pounding so hard it almost drowned out jude’s voice. almost.

‘so that’s it then?’ he scoffed, running a frustrated hand through his curls. ‘you’re choosing your job over me?’

your jaw clenched. ‘no, jude. i’m choosing myself.’

his face twisted, like he couldn’t understand why those two things weren’t the same. like he couldn’t fathom a world where you wouldn’t mold yourself around his life, his schedule, his needs.

‘every other footballer’s girlfriend—’

‘don’t.’ your voice was sharp, cutting through the thick air between you. ‘i’m not them. i never was.’

he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. ‘right. you’re not. because they support their boyfriends, they’re there for them.’

‘you think i don’t support you?’ you snapped, the hurt lacing your voice making him falter for just a second. ‘jude, i have given you everything. my time, my patience, my love. but i won’t give up my dreams for you.’

his jaw tightened, frustration rolling off him in waves. ‘but why not? why can’t you just—’

‘because i’ve worked too damn hard for this!’ you cut him off, voice shaking. ‘do you know how much i’ve sacrificed to get where i am? how many nights i spent studying, how many hours i put in to prove i belong in my field? and you want me to just throw that away so i can follow you around, be at your beck and call?’

he exhaled harshly, looking away as if that would make your words hurt less.

‘it’s not like that,’ he muttered, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking away the sting behind your eyes. ‘it is, jude. you want me to be someone i’m not. and that’s not fair.’

silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. his hands curled into fists at his sides, his lips pressed into a thin line. you could see the hurt in his eyes, the frustration, the love, because there was still love. that was the worst part.

but love wasn’t always enough.

you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to steady your voice. ‘i love you. but i won’t lose myself for you.’

his shoulders dropped, and for the first time, you saw the truth settle in his eyes. that this was it. that he was losing you.

and yet, he didn’t stop you when you turned around, grabbed your bag, and walked out the door.

maybe he finally understood.

or maybe he just didn’t know how to fight for you without asking you to lose yourself in the process.

Hi! Could you write something where the reader lives in Madrid and decides to go out to a bar with some college friends? It turns out that one of her friends' boyfriends is a friend of Jude and some other Real Madrid players. That night, the reader ends up meeting him. She already knew who he was—thought he was insanely attractive—but kept that to herself. That night, they just have a great conversation, full of flirting, but in a fun and natural way. When she gets home, she's completely dazzled—not just because of how good-looking he is, but because he’s actually really interesting too. She tells her college friends everything, but also her best friend. A few days later, the reader is at her internship (I imagine something in the healthcare field because it takes up a lot of her time). That day, her best friend is visiting, but since the reader is still at work, her best friend goes out with some of their other friends. The reader, exhausted from her shift, just wants to go home and sleep. She’s already turned down any plans for the night. But once she’s finally home, lying on the couch, she gets a message from her best friend: "You won’t believe this. Your man is here." She thinks about going but tells herself it's not worth it—they haven’t talked since that night, so why would she do this? Then, another message: "Girl, you cannot let this chance slip away." She finally gives in and goes. When she gets there, she spots him but pretends she hasn’t seen him—even though she knows he’s already seen her. And that night… something happens.

I thought of something like this. Sorry if it's a bit confusing—I've been thinking about this story for days. Could you please write it? I love your writing, and I'm sure it would be amazing!

❦ - madrid, maybe?

summary:: madrid was supposed to be about school, work, and keeping your head down, not late nights, stolen glances, and jude bellingham throwing your whole plan off track. you told yourself it was nothing. then again, madrid has a way of making nothing feel like everything.

warnings:: fair amount of cussing, alcohol consumption, reader is lowkey drunk asf, mentions of work related stress, a lot of angst (yeah im sorry for that but i needed to), eventual relationship && reader being a bit of a bitch.

writers note:: so i lowkey spent a LOT of hours doing this but i think it was worth it..? but anyways also lmk if i should make another part of the joao felix series! it could be longer but yk.

tags: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

the night had started like any other.    

it had taken more convincing than usual to get you out. after a long week at your internship, long shifts, barely any sleep, endless responsibilities, you had been desperate for a night in. a night where you could just exist without needing to be on all the time.  

but your friends had other plans. you never come out anymore, they’d whined. one drink. just one drink.

so here you were, tucked into a crowded bar in the heart of madrid, nursing something cold in your hands while your college friends laughed and talked around you. it wasn’t bad, really. the music was good, the energy infectious. maybe you’d needed this more than you thought.  

you had just started to relax when a familiar name was dropped into the conversation.  

‘jude’s on his way,’ your friend’s boyfriend announced casually, barely looking up from his phone.  

the name sent a ripple of recognition through the group. your friends exchanged glances, excitement flashing in their eyes. even if you weren’t a huge football fan, you weren’t oblivious. you knew who he was.  

jude bellingham.  

and, sure, you’d seen the photos, watched the clips. it was impossible to live in madrid and not know about him. but the thought of actually meeting him? it was something you had never even considered.  

still, you kept your reaction to yourself. unlike the others, you weren’t about to sit there and gush about him like he was some unattainable celebrity. he was just a guy, right?  

just a guy.  

but then he walked in.  

and, immediately, you realized how wrong you were.  

he wasn’t just a guy.

he was tall. taller than you expected, effortlessly commanding the room without even trying. he moved with an ease that was almost unfair, like he knew exactly who he was, exactly what kind of attention he drew.  

and, god, he was stupidly attractive.  

even more than in pictures, sharper jawline, softer eyes, an easy sort of confidence that was somehow both infuriating and completely magnetic.  

you forced yourself to look away, taking a sip of your drink. you were not going to be one of those girls.  

but then, of course, he ended up right next to you.  

the introductions were quick, casual. your friend’s boyfriend did most of the talking, barely noticing the way jude’s eyes lingered on you a second longer than necessary.  

and then, suddenly, it was just the two of you.  

it started simple enough. polite conversation, the usual questions. but it didn’t take long for the banter to start.  

he was quick. sharp. he caught onto things most people wouldn’t, met your sarcasm with just as much of his own. you teased him about his spanish, about the way the entire bar had turned to look at him the moment he walked in.  

‘you’re used to this, aren’t you?’ you said at one point, tipping your glass slightly toward him.  

his lips quirked. ‘what?’

‘people staring at you.’

he leaned in slightly, voice low and amused. ‘you mean you staring at me?’

you rolled your eyes, even as heat crept up your neck. ‘please. you wish.’

he laughed at that, and you knew, without a doubt, that he was enjoying this. the game of it all. the push and pull.  

the night blurred after that. conversations overlapping, hands brushing, glances held a second too long.  

by the time you got home, you were dazed. not just from the drinks, not just from the way he looked at you, but from the way he was.

you told your friends everything. and, of course, you told your best friend.  

but then days passed. and he didn’t text.  

and why would he? it was just one night. just a conversation. he probably met a dozen new people a week.  

so you let it go. focused on work. exhausted yourself to the point where there was no room to think about anything else.  

until

‘you won’t believe this. your man is here.’

you stared at the message, blinking away the exhaustion.  

‘no way.’

you were sprawled on your couch, still in your scrubs, every muscle in your body aching from the shift you had just survived.  

you weren’t going out. you had already said no to at least three different invitations tonight. you needed sleep.  

but then another message.  

‘girl, you cannot let this chance slip away.’

you exhaled slowly, phone resting on your chest.  

your best friend was right. what were the chances? what if you never ran into him again?  

before you could overthink it, you got up. changed. left.  

the bar was even more packed than last time. but you spotted him immediately.

and you knew the exact moment he saw you.  

but instead of going to him, instead of acknowledging him at all, you walked right past him.  

you could feel his eyes on you.  

and then, minutes later

‘thought you weren’t coming,’ a voice murmured in your ear.  

you turned, already biting back a smile. ‘i wasn’t.’

he raised a brow. ‘what changed?’

you shrugged, playing it cool. ‘got bored.’

he laughed, shaking his head. ‘you’re trouble, aren’t you?’

‘depends on who you ask.’

‘and if i asked you?’

you met his gaze, holding it. challenging. ‘then i’d say you’ll have to find out for yourself.’

the way his eyes darkened at that; yeah. you knew exactly where this night was heading.

the thing about madrid was that it never really slept. neither did you, apparently.  

despite the exhaustion from your shift, despite knowing you’d regret this in the morning, you were here. back in a crowded bar, back in this game of glances and teasing remarks with jude bellingham.  

he was still standing close, still watching you like he knew exactly what you were doing.  

‘so, you gonna keep pretending you don’t see me?’ he asked, tilting his head slightly.  

‘i don’t know what you’re talking about,’ you said smoothly, sipping your drink.  

his lips quirked into that stupid, knowing smirk. ‘right. just a coincidence you walked past me like i was invisible.’

‘maybe you just are invisible," you shot back.  

he let out a short laugh, shaking his head. ‘you’re funny.’

‘i know.’

he eyed you for a moment, like he was trying to figure something out. then, casually, ‘so, you do this a lot?’

‘do what?’

‘show up at bars just to mess with guys?’

‘only the ones who deserve it.’

‘good to know,’ he murmured, leaning in slightly. ‘so, what makes me one of them?’

you didn’t answer right away. mostly because his proximity was making it hard to think straight. his cologne, something warm and expensive, lingered in the air between you. it didn’t help that his voice had dropped just enough to make your stomach flip.  

‘well,’ you said finally, keeping your tone light, ‘technically, you never texted me. so, really, i should be the one messing with you.’

his brows shot up. ‘i never texted you?’

‘yeah. you had my number, didn’t use it.’

he scoffed, amused. ‘first of all, i never got your number.’

you paused. ‘wait, really?’

‘yeah. really.’

you frowned, trying to remember if that was true. the night had been a blur, but, maybe he hadn’t gotten it?  

he watched your expression shift and grinned. ‘what, you thought i ghosted you?’

‘i mean… maybe?’

he shook his head, laughing. ‘nah, see, thats crazy. you deadass thought i’d just meet you, have that conversation, and then never hit you up?’

‘i don’t know, you meet a lot of people.’

‘yeah, and i remember the interesting ones.’

you didn’t respond to that. mostly because the words did something weird to your heart. instead, you just sipped your drink again, pretending it hadn’t fazed you.  

jude, apparently, wasn’t done.  

‘you gonna give it to me now?’

‘give you what?’

‘your number.’

you smirked. ‘hmm. i don’t know. you did ignore me for, like, a week.’

he rolled his eyes. ‘you just admitted that wasn’t my fault.’

‘still hurt my feelings, though.’

‘oh, yeah? you were heartbroken?’

‘devastated,’ you said solemnly. ‘could barely function.’

‘should i make it up to you, then?’

your heart skipped, but you kept your expression neutral. ‘and how exactly do you plan on doing that?’

his gaze flickered down to your lips; quick, barely noticeable. but you noticed.

‘i could think of a few ways.’ he said lightly.  

your stomach flipped.  

you should not be enjoying this as much as you were. but it was impossible not to. because the thing about jude was that he was good at this. good at knowing exactly when to push, exactly when to pull back.  

and maybe, just maybe, you were a little bit addicted to it.  

before you could say anything else, someone called his name from across the bar. you both turned, spotting one of his friends motioning for him to come over.  

‘you leaving?’ you asked.  

he looked at his friends, then back at you. ‘not yet.’

‘oh? got something better to do?’

his smirk was slow, deliberate. ‘yeah. think i do.’

an hour passed. maybe more.  

somewhere in between the second and third drink, the two of you had drifted toward a quieter part of the bar. still close to the crowd, but just far enough that the conversation felt more… intimate.  

he asked about your internship, your plans. listened intently, even as you rambled about how exhausting it was.  

‘so, basically, you’re a superhero,’ he said when you finished.  

you laughed. ‘that’s a bit of a reach.’

‘nah,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘saving lives, barely getting sleep. sounds heroic to me.’

you rolled your eyes, but your stomach did a stupid little flip at the way he said it.  

eventually, though, the energy around you shifted. the bar had thinned out, people heading home.  

you should’ve, too. but you weren’t ready yet.  

and neither was he.  

‘wanna get out of here?’ he asked suddenly.  

you glanced up. ‘oh?’

he huffed a laugh. ‘not like that.’

‘mhmm.’

i’m serious,’ he said, grinning. ‘just, wanna walk for a bit?’

you hesitated, then shrugged. ‘sure.’

the streets of madrid at night were something else. a little quieter now, but still buzzing, still alive.  

you and jude walked side by side, the conversation lighter now. less teasing, more comfortable.  

‘so, what do you actually do for fun?’ he asked at one point.  

you scoffed. ‘fun? don’t know her.’

‘nah, see, i knew you were gonna say that.’

‘because it’s true!’

he shook his head. ‘i don’t believe it. you have to have some kind of guilty pleasure.’

you thought for a second. ‘hmm. okay. maybe i watch reality tv when i’m too exhausted to do anything else.’

he gasped dramatically. ‘no way.’

‘shut up.’

‘what show?’

‘not telling you.’

‘nah, you have to tell me now.’

you pursed your lips. ‘love island.’

his eyes widened, like he’d just uncovered the greatest secret in the world.  

‘i knew you were toxic,’ he said, laughing.  

‘excuse me?’

‘nah, it makes sense now.’

‘okay, and what’s your guilty pleasure, then?’

he thought for a moment. ‘i still watch kids' cartoons sometimes.’

‘no way.’

‘swear down.’

you squinted at him. ‘you’re lying.’

‘i swear.’

you were still laughing when you realized you had stopped walking.  

and then you realized something else.  

you were standing too close.  

you weren’t sure who had moved first. all you knew was that his hand was brushing against yours now, his gaze a little softer, his voice a little lower.  

and suddenly, the air between you wasn’t just charged; it was buzzing.

you swallowed.  

‘so,’ he murmured, ‘if i asked you again…’

‘asked me what?’ you said, playing dumb.  

his lips quirked.  

‘for your number.’

your heart was racing now. but you still pretended to think about it.  

then, finally

‘guess you have to make it up to me somehow first.’

he grinned. ‘oh, yeah?’

‘yeah.’

‘and how exactly do you want me to do that?’

you smiled. ‘figure it out.’

judging by the look in his eyes, he already had an idea.

‘so, if i asked you again… for your number?’

‘guess you have to make it up to me somehow first.’

‘oh, yeah? and how exactly do you want me to do that?’

you had smiled, told him to figure it out.

and, of course, jude bellingham took that as a challenge.

hours earlier.  

the second you’d said the words, his grin had turned slow, deliberate.  

‘figure it out, huh?’

you shrugged, pretending to be unaffected by the way his gaze lingered on your lips before flickering back up to your eyes.  

‘if you really want my number, yeah,’ you said lightly. ‘gonna have to earn it.’

he let out a short laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you.  

‘alright,’ he said finally. ‘challenge accepted.’

the next hour had been a game.

you weren’t sure when the shift had happened; when the teasing had become this.

he had been trying to impress you before, sure. but now? now, jude was determined.

he had leaned into the flirting, turned up the charm to levels that should have been illegal.

he started making you laugh on purpose, telling ridiculous stories about his teammates, doing impressions, playing into every little quirk he had already picked up about you.  

when you rolled your eyes, he’d smirk and say, ‘there she goes again.’

when you crossed your arms, pretending to be unimpressed, he’d lean in and murmur, ‘c’mon, you’re dying to give me your number.’

he kept finding excuses to touch you; a hand on your back as you walked through the street, a brush of fingers when you reached for something at the same time. light touches, nothing overwhelming, but just enough to keep your heart racing.  

but you weren’t going to make it easy.  

you pushed back, met his teasing with just as much of your own. made him laugh, made him work for it.  

at one point, he sighed dramatically, tilting his head back.  

‘this is actually crazy,’ he said. ‘most girls would’ve given in by now.’

‘good thing i’m not most girls,’ you shot back.  

he looked at you then, something unreadable flickering in his expression.  

‘yeah,’ he said after a second. ‘guess you’re not.’

eventually, you ended up at a small plaza, the streetlights casting a soft glow over the cobblestone. it was late really late, but neither of you seemed to care.  

the energy between you had settled. still charged, but warmer now.  

‘so,’ he said, shoving his hands into his pockets, ‘are you gonna give me anything to work with here?’

‘what do you mean?’

‘like, a hint at least?’

‘for what?’

‘how to win your number,’ he said, exasperated.  

you laughed, tilting your head slightly. ‘hmm. i don’t know…’

he groaned. ‘you’re killing me.’

‘good.’

he stared at you for a second, then suddenly straightened.  

‘alright,’ he said. ‘i’ve got it.’

‘got what?’

‘the way i’m getting your number.’

you raised a brow. ‘oh?’

‘yeah,’ he said confidently. ‘gimme a second.’

before you could ask what he was doing, he pulled out his phone.  

you watched, confused, as he opened instagram, typed something, and handed it to you.  

his profile was already open.  

follow me.

you let out a short laugh. ‘wow. smooth.’

‘look, i could go old school and ask for your number directly,’ he said, grinning. ‘but i know you’d make me jump through five more hoops before you actually gave it to me.’

‘true,’ you admitted.  

‘so, this is my compromise.’ he nodded toward the screen. ‘follow me. then i’ll dm you. then you have to respond.’

you hummed, pretending to think about it.  

then, finally, you hit follow.

jude immediately took his phone back, typing something quickly.  

a second later, yours buzzed.  

new dm from judebellingham:

does this mean i win?

you grinned, typing back.  

hmm. undecided.

another message.  

fairs. i’ll keep working on it, then.

now, lying in bed, you scrolled back through the messages, rereading them even though you knew them by heart.  

it was stupid, really. how giddy this was making you.  

you told yourself it didn’t mean anything. that you were just enjoying the attention, that this was just harmless flirting.  

but then; 

another message.

judebellingham: you up?

your breath caught.  

it was so late. did he just get home, too? was he still thinking about tonight?  

you hesitated for a second.  

then,

maybe. why?

jude: just wondering if i was the only one still thinking about tonight.

your heart stopped.

you stared at the message for a long time, suddenly very aware of how fast your pulse was racing.  

he was good so good at this.  

and, worst of all, 

you had no idea what the hell you were going to do about it.

you weren’t answering.  

jude had sent the message almost fifteen minutes ago, and your reply still hadn’t come through.  

he wasn’t the type to overthink things—not usually. but something about this was different. something about you had thrown him completely off his game.  

he ran a hand through his hair, staring at the chat. maybe he shouldn’t have sent that last message. maybe it had been too much. too soon.  

but, fuck, he hadn’t been able to help himself.  

the night had ended, he had gone home, but his mind was still buzzing. still replaying everything, the teasing, the way your eyes had lit up when you laughed, the way you’d refused to make things easy for him.  

he had met plenty of people in madrid. plenty of girls who had flirted with him, who had been interested.  

but none of them had felt like this.

and that? that was messing with him.  

his phone buzzed.  

should i lie or tell the truth?

his heart kicked up, and suddenly, he felt stupid for even doubting that you’d respond.  

jude: always the truth

he watched the little typing bubble pop up, then disappear.  

then pop up again.  

then disappear.  

he smirked. you were hesitating. interesting.

finally;

then yeah. i’m thinking about it too.

the next morning, you woke up to another message.  

judebellingham: coffee later?

you stared at the words, your stomach flipping.  

it was a bad idea.  

you knew this.  

your life was too busy, your schedule too packed. you barely had time for yourself, let alone whatever the hell this thing with jude was becoming.  

not to mention, he was him.

jude bellingham, the biggest star in madrid. constantly surrounded by cameras, by attention.  

it was so easy to imagine how this would play out.  

a few fun conversations. some flirting. maybe even something more.  

and then?  

he’d get bored. move on.  

because that’s how these things went.  

so you should say no.  

you should.

but…

what time?

you almost backed out twice.

first, when you realized you had been standing in front of your closet for ten whole minutes, overthinking what to wear.  

it wasn’t a date. just coffee. casual. nothing serious.  

so why were you acting like it meant something?  

but then, 

you walked in.  

and jude was already there, waiting for you.  

the second he spotted you, his whole face lit up.  

‘thought you were gonna stand me up,’ he said, grinning.  

you rolled your eyes, slipping into the seat across from him. ‘tempting, but no.’

he smirked. ‘you were thinking about it, though.’

‘maybe.’

he leaned back slightly, still watching you with that look.

like he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you.  

you ignored the way your pulse picked up, reaching for the menu.  

‘so,’ you said, acting casual, ‘are we actually getting coffee, or did you just want an excuse to see me again?’

his smirk deepened.  

‘bit of both, to be honest.’

you were so fucked.  

an hour passed. then another.  

coffee turned into brunch. brunch turned into you two still sitting there, talking like you hadn’t just met a few days ago.  

and that was the problem.

it should have been surface level. light, fun, meaningless.  

but then he was asking about your family, about your childhood.  

then he was telling you about birmingham, about moving away when he was just a kid.  

then he was making you laugh again, and it wasn’t just because he was funny; it was because he was genuinely interesting.

by the time the bill came, you realised,

you didn’t want to leave.  

which was exactly why you had to.  

you pulled out your wallet, but jude was already handing over his card.  

‘i got it,’ he said.  

‘i can pay for my own coffee, you know.’

‘yeah, but i invited you.’

‘i can still’

‘let me, yeah?’

you hesitated.  

he was looking at you again, and there was something in his expression that made it really hard to argue.  

so you just sighed. ‘fine.’

he grinned. ‘thank you.’

you rolled your eyes, standing up. ‘you’re annoying.’

‘and yet, here you are, still spending time with me.’

you shook your head, walking toward the door. he followed.  

‘so,’ he said, once you were outside. ‘when am i seeing you again?’

you exhaled slowly, staring at the ground.  

‘jude’

‘don’t do that,’ he said, suddenly serious.  

‘do what?’

‘shut me out before this even goes anywhere.’

your stomach twisted. ‘i’m not.’

‘you are.’

you bit your lip, glancing up at him.  

the easygoing smirk was gone. in its place was something softer, something real.  

‘i get it,’ he said. ‘you’re busy. you’ve got a life, your job, your own shit to deal with.’

he ran a hand through his curls, exhaling.  

‘but if you’re pulling back because you think this is just some game to me.’ he met your gaze. ‘it’s not.’

your heart stuttered.  

you wanted to believe him.  

‘we barely know each other,’ you pointed out.  

‘so let’s change that,’ he said simply.  

like it was that easy.  

and maybe, for him, it was.  

but for you?  

you had spent so long keeping people at a distance. protecting yourself from the inevitable disappointment of expecting too much.  

so why did part of you want to take the risk?  

‘just think about it,’ he murmured, stepping back. ‘yeah?’

you swallowed. nodded.  

he studied you for a second longer, like he wanted to say something else.  

then he turned, walking away.  

you stood there for a long time after he left, staring at the spot where he’d been.  

thinking about his words.  

thinking about how, for the first time in a long time.

you wanted to let someone in.

you were avoiding him.  

not entirely; you still answered his texts, still sent the occasional dry joke in response to his voice notes. but you weren’t making any effort beyond that.  

no more late night messages. no more lingering conversations. no more seeing him in person.  

and jude wasn’t stupid. he noticed.  

you’re dodging me. 

the message came in late one night, right as you were finishing up work.  

you stared at your phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard.  

he wasn’t wrong.  

but admitting that would mean confronting why.

so you typed something else instead.  

i’m busy.

a minute passed.  

then, 

jude: bullshit.

your stomach twisted.  

you sighed, shoving your phone in your pocket before you could answer.  

but it didn’t matter.  

because, for the rest of the night, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.  

the truth was, it was easier this way.  

the second you had walked away from that café, you had known, this thing with jude was dangerous.  

because you liked him.  

more than you should.  

and that was bad.

because, at the end of the day, he was still him.

jude bellingham, the football star. the golden boy.  

he was fun, charming, ridiculously attractive.  

but he was also someone with a whole life you didn’t belong in. a world of flashing cameras and public scrutiny, of schedules packed with travel and endless commitments.  

and you?  

you barely had time to breathe most days.  

you had your job, your responsibilities, your own life.  

it didn’t make sense to let yourself fall for him.  

so you had started pulling back.  

distancing yourself before you could get in too deep.  

before you could get hurt.

but clearly, he wasn’t going to let you do that quietly.  

the next time you saw him, it wasn’t planned.  

you were out with friends, trying to pretend like everything was normal, like your mind wasn’t elsewhere.

and then, 

there he was.  

across the bar, laughing with a group of people you didn’t recognize.  

your stomach flipped.  

and, just as quickly; his eyes found yours.  

you froze.  

he didn’t.  

his smile faded, and before you could even think about running, he was already moving toward you.  

‘hey,’ he said when he reached you.  

you swallowed. ‘hey.’

he studied you for a second, then nodded toward the door.  

‘let’s talk.’

you hesitated.  

‘jude.’

‘don’t.’ his voice was low, firm. ‘don’t make excuses. just come outside.’

you exhaled slowly.  

you could say no.  

you should say no.  

but you didn’t.  

outside, the air was cold, but the tension between you was colder.

you crossed your arms. ‘what do you want me to say?’

jude let out a short, humorless laugh.  

‘oh, i don’t know,’ he said. ‘maybe an actual explanation?’

‘i told you, i’ve been..’

‘busy. yeah. i got that.’

he shook his head, jaw tight.  

‘but we both know that’s not really the problem, is it?’

you looked away.  

‘you’re pushing me away,’ he continued, his voice quieter now. ‘and i don’t get it.’

your throat felt tight.  

‘i just…’ you exhaled. ‘i don’t think this is a good idea.’

he frowned. ‘why not?’

you hesitated.  

because you were scared.  

because you didn’t trust yourself with this.  

because you knew that if you let him in, you’d fall hard.

but saying any of that out loud felt impossible.  

so instead, you went for the easiest excuse.  

‘because i don’t have time for this.’

jude scoffed, running a hand through his curls.  

‘that’s such bullshit,’ he muttered.  

‘it’s not,’ you said, forcing your voice to stay even. ‘i barely have time for myself, jude. i can’t add this..’ you gestured between you, ‘whatever this is on top of everything else.’

his expression darkened.  

‘so what?’ he said. ‘you’re just gonna pretend like none of this ever happened? like that night meant nothing?’

your chest ached.  

‘it was fun,’ you said, voice hollow. ‘but that’s all it was.’

jude stared at you.  

and for the first time since you met him, he looked hurt 

you forced yourself to hold his gaze, to keep your expression neutral, even though every part of you was screaming at you to fix it.

but you couldn’t.  

this was for the best.  

finally, he nodded, stepping back.  

‘right,’ he said quietly. ‘got it.’

the space between you felt huge.

he glanced away, let out a slow exhale.  

then, without another word, he walked away. and you let him. but as you stood there, watching him disappear into the night, you wondered if you had just made the biggest mistake of your life.  

the worst part wasn’t the fight.  

it was after.

the silence.  

the space where his texts used to be. the absence of his name lighting up your phone late at night. the realization that you had gotten used to having him around, in your inbox, in your thoughts, in you.

and now?  

nothing.  

days passed. you threw yourself into work, into school, into anything that would keep your mind from wandering back to him.  

but it didn’t matter.  

jude was everywhere.  

in the headlines, on tv, on the back of strangers’ jerseys in the street.  

in the playlist you hadn’t been able to listen to since that night.  

in the memories that crept in during quiet moments, the way he laughed, the warmth of his gaze, the way he looked at you like he actually saw you.

and worse, the last thing he had said.  

‘got it.’

so final. so done.

but then, 

friday night.

you weren’t supposed to go out.  

you had planned to stay in, avoid the possibility of running into him again.  

but your best friend had shown up at your apartment, refusing to take no for an answer.  

‘you’ve been moping,’ she said flatly. ‘it’s getting sad.’

you glared. ‘i am not..’

‘you are,’ she cut in. ‘and honestly? i can’t watch you wallow for another weekend.’

so now, here you were.  

back at the same bar where everything had started.  

part of you hoped he wouldn’t be there.  

part of you hoped he would.

and then, 

of course.  

he was.  

you spotted him across the room, surrounded by friends, smiling at something someone said.  

your heart clenched.  

god, you missed that smile.  

but then, his eyes lifted.  

found yours.  

and just like that, everything came rushing back.

the tension. the longing. the regret.

but you looked away first.  

because you didn’t know how to fix this.

and maybe he didn’t want you to.  

fifteen minutes later, you were at the bar, nursing a drink you didn’t really want, trying to not look for him in the crowd.  

so when someone stepped up beside you, you didn’t even glance over.  

‘we really gonna keep doing this?’

your breath caught.  

slowly, you turned.  

jude.  

closer than you expected.  

his eyes searched yours, something unreadable in his expression.  

‘look,’ you started, but he shook his head.  

‘no,’ he said. ‘my turn.’

you blinked.  

‘i don’t get you,’ he went on, voice low. ‘one minute, you’re there. with me. and the next, you’re gone.’

guilt twisted in your chest.  

‘i…’

‘i know you’re scared,’ he said, softer now. ‘i get it. i do.’

you looked away, but his fingers brushed your wrist, grounding you.  

‘but you don’t get to pull me in and then push me away like i don’t fucking matter,’ he said.  

your throat tightened.  

‘that’s not..’

‘it is,’ he said quietly. ‘that’s what it feels like.’

silence stretched between you.  

you swallowed hard. ‘i thought i was protecting myself.’

he exhaled, shaking his head. ‘from what me?’

‘from getting hurt,’ you whispered.  

‘and how’s that working out for you?’ he shot back. ‘because, newsflash, i’m hurt too.’ 

that stopped you.  

he let the words sink in, then sighed.  

‘look,’ he said, softer. ‘i don’t know what this is. i don’t know where it’s going.’

his gaze held yours. steady. certain.  

‘but i know i like you. i know i haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met.’

your breath hitched.  

‘and yeah,’ he added, ‘maybe it’s messy. maybe it’s complicated. but damn, i think it’s worth figuring out.’ 

your walls, carefully built, meticulously maintained, cracked.  

because fuck.

you wanted this.  

wanted him.

so you let out a shaky laugh, blinking back the sting in your eyes.  

‘you’re really bad at letting things go, huh?’

he smiled, a little broken, a little hopeful.  

‘not when it comes to you.’

that did it.  

you reached for him, and he met you halfway.  

pulling you in.  

warm, solid, familiar.

‘i’m scared,’ you admitted against his chest.  

‘yeah,’ he murmured into your hair. ‘me too.’

you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.  

‘but maybe,’ you said, ‘we figure it out anyway?’

his smile was soft. real.

‘yeah,’ he said. ‘i’d like that.’

and when he kissed you, 

it didn’t feel like an ending.  

it felt like finally.

if someone had told you a few months ago that you’d be here, lying on jude’s couch, your legs draped over his lap while a movie played in the background (completely ignored), you would’ve laughed.  

or panicked.  

probably both.  

but now?  

now it just felt right.

‘you’re not even watching,’ jude mumbled, poking your side.  

you glanced up from your phone. ‘neither are you.’

he smirked. ‘yeah, but i invited you over to watch it. not scroll through tiktoks.’

‘you didn’t invite me over for the movie.’ you shot back, raising a brow.  

he grinned. ‘fair enough.’

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.  

this was how it had been lately, easy. familiar. like you had slipped into some rhythm you didn’t even realize you’d wanted.  

the initial whirlwind of everything, the confusion, the push and pull, had settled.  

now there were lazy mornings when you stayed over, his hoodie swallowing you whole as you sipped coffee in his kitchen.  

there were texts throughout the day, some sweet, some stupid, all of them making you smile.  

there were nights like this, where nothing was planned and yet it was perfect.

‘hey.’ his voice pulled you out of your thoughts. ‘what’s going on in that head of yours?’

you shrugged. ‘just… thinking.’

‘dangerous,’ he teased, but there was a softness in his gaze.  

you hesitated, then admitted, ‘i didn’t think it’d be like this.’

his brow furrowed. ‘like what?’

‘easy,’ you said quietly. ‘i thought it’d be more… complicated.’

he tilted his head. ‘it was complicated. you made it complicated.’

‘hey.’ you swatted his arm, but he caught your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.  

‘but,’ he added, squeezing gently, ‘it’s not anymore.’

and that was the thing, you had stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. stopped holding yourself back.  

because he hadn’t left.  

hadn’t pulled away when things got hard. hadn’t treated you like some passing thing.  

he was here.

with you.  

choosing you.  

every single day.  

your chest warmed at the thought.  

‘what?’ jude asked, eyes narrowing playfully. ‘you’re looking at me like you’re about to say something sappy.’

you snorted. ‘don’t flatter yourself.’

he grinned. ‘too late.’

but then, quieter, he added, ‘you are happy, right?’

the vulnerability in his voice made your heart squeeze.  

so you shifted, leaning in until your forehead rested against his.  

‘yeah,’ you whispered. ‘i am.’

his smile softened. ‘good. ’cause i really, really, like you.’

you grinned. ‘yeah? i hadn’t noticed.’ 

he rolled his eyes but kissed you anyway, slow and unhurried.  

and in that moment, with his hand in yours and his lips against yours, you thought.

yeah. this was it.  

❦ - kiss of life

summary:: 5am, extremely rainy morning in madrid except your boyfriend, jude thought bringing an umbrella was unnecessary.

warnings:: none!

writers note:: so this is the second fic of the song x player blurbs and i lowkey love writing these do you see me cooking bro… these are sm easier esp w my mocks starting soon so i’ll try and get a few produced !!

tags: @barcapix

The rain started halfway through the walk home. You weren’t expecting it, of course, but Jude had insisted you’d ‘be fine without an umbrella.’ Now, the two of you were drenched, trainers squeaking against the pavement as you half-jogged through the empty streets.

‘You’re such an idiot,’ you muttered, wiping water off your face.

Jude just laughed, his hair plastered to his forehead. ‘C’mon, it’s not that bad.’

‘It’s freezing!’ you shot back, pulling his hoodie tighter around you. It was far too big for you, the sleeves hanging past your hands, but at least it was warm, though it now smelled like wet fabric and regret.

Jude stopped suddenly under the awning of a closed café, catching your wrist to pull you out of the rain. ‘Alright, drama queen,’ he said, grinning. ‘Let’s take a break before you blame me for catching pneumonia.’

‘You’d deserve it,’ you huffed, crossing your arms.

His grin widened. ‘You’d still take care of me, though.’

You gave him a pointed look, but he was right. You always did.

Leaning back against the brick wall, he tilted his head, watching you quietly for a moment. ‘You know, you look kinda cute like this.’

‘Like what? A drowned rat?’

Jude chuckled, shaking his head. ‘No. Just… you. You’re always cute.’

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you. ‘Don’t think flattery’s gonna stop me from yelling at you when we get home.’

‘Noted,’ he said, stepping closer. His hands slid into the pockets of the hoodie you were wearing, tugging you toward him. ‘But for now, let me enjoy this.’

You raised an eyebrow. ‘Enjoy what?’

‘This,’ he said simply, dropping his forehead against yours. His voice was softer now, almost drowned out by the rain. ‘You. Us. Moments like this.’

For a second, the cold didn’t matter. The rain didn’t matter. It was just Jude, his eyes on you, his touch steady, his presence enough to make the world blur around you.

‘You’re lucky you’re cute,’ you murmured, your lips brushing his as you spoke.

He smiled against your mouth. ‘I know.’

And as the rain fell, you let yourself get lost in him, knowing he was your safe place as much as you were his.

SOOOO YK WHO IT IS BBG BUTT maybe like jude x reader where shes an influencer for adidas and her and jude have to do a COLLAB FOr the brand and stuff i trust ur imagination❤️❤️

❦ - all eyes on us.

summary:: you’re a famous influencer who’s been paired up with jude for adidas pr.

warnings:: none!

writers note:: i love this hello? i love you babe this is such a yummy request i love writing this!! 😍 also i’ve clocked that i write sm in my writers note so uhm anywho this is my first jude fic so i hope my jude girlies like it!! btw this is my first time trying this style of writing ig so tell me if it’s good xx

word count:: 2,708

You never minded the fast paced world of being an influencer. You’d built your brand around effortless style and relatable charm, snagging deals with top-tier companies like Adidas. Campaigns like this were nothing new to you - until Jude entered the picture.

He was charming, no doubt. Tall, confident, and with a way of making everyone in the room laugh, he had that kind of natural magnetism that couldn’t be taught. From the moment he walked into the studio, you felt the shift in the air.

But it wasn’t just his presence that threw you off, it was how easy he made everything look, even while you were secretly trying not to embarrass yourself.

You both stood under the spotlight for your first set of shots. The creative director had explained the vibe they were going for: young, edgy, and fun. This meant capturing moments of banter, mock rivalry, and flirtation.

‘I’m not used to being outshined,’ you muttered to Jude as the photographer adjusted their camera.

He leaned down slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll let you win this one.’

The nerve of him.

‘Alright, Jude, throw your arm around her shoulder,’ the photographer instructed.

You felt the weight of his arm drape across you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. The warmth of his skin through the fabric of your hoodie was distracting; almost too distracting.

‘Now laugh, like he just said something funny,’ the photographer added.

Jude didn’t miss a beat. ‘I didn’t realize fake laughing was part of your influencer requirements,’ he teased under his breath.

You tilted your head back and laughed anyway, your genuine amusement mixing with the forced effort.

The real chaos started after the shoot. Adidas had planned a tiktok segment where you and Jude would compete in challenges to promote the campaign.

The first challenge was simple: a lip-sync duet to a viral audio clip. Jude was awful at keeping up, missing half the words and breaking into laughter when he saw your exaggerated expressions.

‘Do you even know how tiktok works?’ you asked, barely able to hold back your laughter.

‘Not really,’ he admitted, grinning. ‘I’m more of a football guy, remember?’

‘Clearly. Let me handle this part.’

But when it came to the second challenge, a reaction test where you had to slap each other’s hands before the other could dodge - Jude’s reflexes as a professional athlete completely ruined your chances.

‘You’re impossible,’ you huffed, swatting at him as he casually held his hands just out of reach.

‘Don’t hate the player,’ he replied, his grin widening.

By the time the day ended, you were sitting on the studio’s couch, scrolling through some of the footage on your phone. Jude plopped down beside you, his body radiating warmth even in the air-conditioned room.

‘Let me see,’ he said, leaning over your shoulder.

You tilted the phone so he could watch the clips. The two of you looked so natural together, laughing, teasing, and bantering like you’d known each other for years instead of hours.

‘This one’s my favourite,’ he said, pointing at a video where you’d accidentally tripped over a cord mid shoot. Instead of falling, Jude had caught you with an arm around your waist, and the moment had turned into a perfectly awkward laugh caught on camera.

‘Yeah, that’s real ‘effortless cool,’ you said sarcastically.

He leaned back, his smirk softening into something more sincere. ‘You’re good at this. Like, really good. It’s not just the cameras. You’ve got... presence.’

You turned to him, surprised by the compliment. ‘Thanks, Jude. You’re not bad yourself, you know. For a footballer.’

As you both walked out of the studio, Jude fell into step beside you. The evening air was cool, the streets of the city buzzing with life.

‘You hungry?’ he asked casually, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.

You glanced up at him, caught off guard. ‘Are you asking me to dinner?’

‘Maybe,’ he replied, that boyish grin creeping onto his face. ‘Unless you’re too busy for a post shoot celebration.’

You pretended to consider it. ‘Depends. Is this dinner part of the campaign, or is this just you trying to get to know me better?’

He laughed, shaking his head. ‘Off the record. No cameras, no Adidas logos. Just you and me.’

You hesitated for a moment before smiling. ‘Alright, Jude. You’ve got yourself a deal.’

The restaurant Jude chose wasn’t flashy, which surprised you. No cameras, no fancy decor, just a tucked away little spot that smelled like garlic and freshly baked bread. It was soft, warm, and nothing like the high-energy day you’d just had.  

‘This is unexpected,’ you said, sliding into the booth opposite him.  

‘What? Did you think I’d take you to some five-star rooftop spot?’ He smiled, setting his phone facedown on the table. ‘Not my style.’

‘I don’t know, you football types always seem... I don’t know, extra?’

Jude leaned back, one arm draped casually over the booth. ‘I’m not exactly your average footballer. But you already knew that.’

You laughed, shaking your head. ‘Alright, I’ll give you that. You’re different.’

The waiter appeared, and you both ordered, Jude insisting you get the house special because ‘it’s the only reason I come here.’ Once the waiter disappeared, there was a brief silence, the kind that could’ve been awkward if Jude wasn’t so effortlessly comfortable.  

‘So, do you always nonchalantly get your way through shoots like that?’ you teased, resting your chin on your hand.  

His eyebrows shot up. ‘Nonchalance? That’s what you call it?’

‘What else would I call it?’

‘Survival,’ he said with a laugh. ‘You don’t understand, I’m used to kicking a ball around, not posing and trying to look cool.’

‘Well, you pulled it off,’ you admitted. ‘Even if you were hopeless at TikTok.’

‘Hopeless?’ He leaned forward, grinning. ‘You’re crazy, you know that?’

‘Just honest,’ you said, matching his energy.  

The banter flowed as naturally as it had on set, but there was something more intimate about it now. Without the cameras and the crew, Jude wasn’t just the Adidas poster boy or the football sensation, he was Jude, the guy who couldn’t stop making you laugh.  

As you left the restaurant, you didn’t notice the group of fans across the street until one of them shouted his name.  

‘Jude! Over here!’

You glanced at him, expecting him to be annoyed, but instead, he smiled and waved, walking over to sign autographs and take a few pictures. You hung back, not wanting to steal his moment, but one of the fans pointed at you.  

‘Is that your girlfriend?’

Your cheeks burned, and before you could even respond, Jude turned to you with a smirk. ‘What do you think? Should we let them guess?’

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. ‘Let’s not start rumors on a Wednesday night.’

The fans laughed, but your heart raced as Jude returned to your side, his hand brushing against yours.  

‘Sorry about that,’ he said once you were out of earshot.  

‘Does that happen a lot?’

‘All the time,’ he admitted. ‘You get used to it. But I guess that’s your world too, huh? Fans, cameras, people watching your every move?’

‘It’s... different,’ you said honestly. ‘I mean, I don’t have people yelling my name on the street, but yeah, there’s pressure to always be ‘on.’’

He nodded, his expression softening. ‘Yeah, I get that.’

You woke up the next day to your phone buzzing non-stop. Half-asleep, you grabbed it off your nightstand and squinted at the screen.  

Your notifications were flooded.  

FootyUpdates: ‘Jude Bellingham spotted at dinner with influencer yourusername last night 👀 Fans are already shipping it!’

AdidasOfficial: ‘Name a more iconic duo than JudeBellingham and yourusername. We’ll wait.’

yourfanacc: ‘Wait, are Jude and Y/N a THING?!? They look so cute together!!!’

You groaned, scrolling through the dozens of comments, edits, and conspiracy theories. One clip in particular was gaining traction, a TikTok of you and Jude laughing during the campaign shoot, set to a romantic song.  

Your phone buzzed again.  

Jude: morning darling. you seen the chaos yet?

You laughed, typing back. 

oh, you mean the part where we’re trending? yeahhh, just saw it.

think adidas planned this?

wouldn’t put it past them

There was a pause before his next message came through.  

Jude: you alright with it? 

You hesitated. The attention was overwhelming, sure, but there was something exciting about it too.  

mhm, as long as you’re ok being shipped w me?

Jude: could be worse. you’re kinda hard not to like.

The buzz from the campaign only grew, and Adidas wasted no time capitalizing on it. Within a week, you and Jude were booked for another event, a live Q&A streamed on Instagram.  

‘You ready for this?’ he asked as you both sat down in front of the camera.  

‘Not even a little,’ you admitted, adjusting your mic.  

The questions started off innocent enough, favorite Adidas pieces, funniest moments from the shoot, but it didn’t take long for fans to steer the conversation toward your ‘chemistry.’

‘So, what’s it like working together?’ one fan asked.  

Jude glanced at you, a playful glint in his eye. ‘Terrible. She bullies me non stop.’

You gasped, swatting his arm. ‘That’s a lie! You’re the bully.’

The fans ate it up, the comment section exploding with heart emojis.

As the weeks went on, you and Jude kept crossing paths, for more Adidas campaigns, promotional events, and even the occasional text conversation that drifted into late night time. The more time you spent together, the harder it became to ignore the spark between you.  

But with every laugh, every lingering glance, there was always that voice in the back of your head reminding you of the cameras, the fans, and the fact that you were both living in two completely different worlds.  

One night, after a particularly long shoot, Jude turned to you as you were packing up your things.  

‘Hey,’ he said softly. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course,’ you replied, pausing.  

‘Do you ever... wish things were simpler? Like, no cameras, no pressure. Just normal?’

His question caught you off guard, but you nodded. ‘All the time. Why?’

He hesitated for a moment before giving you a small smile. ‘Just wondering.’

You didn’t push, but the way he looked at you in that moment stayed with you long after you’d gone home.  

It was late. You were sitting at a café, hunched over your laptop, trying to get some work done before the next event. The world outside was quiet, the kind of peaceful night that made everything feel suspended in time.  

Your phone buzzed again.  

Jude: you still up?

You smiled, quickly typing back.

always. got a shoot tomorrow. what’s up?

A few seconds later, his response popped up.  

Jude: wanna grab a drink rq?

You hesitated. There was something different about tonight. Jude had been subtly pulling away lately, nothing obvious, just an undercurrent of distance. Maybe it was the pressure of the campaign, the media frenzy, or maybe he was just being careful not to blur the lines between your professional relationship and whatever else might be brewing.  

But the truth was, you’d been feeling the same thing. The moments you spent together were becoming harder to ignore. Every time you caught his eye, or when he touched your shoulder in passing, your heart would skip a beat.  

i’d love to.

The bar was quiet, tucked into a side street away from the chaos of the city. It was dimly lit, with soft jazz playing in the background. You both sat at a small table near the window, your drinks untouched as the conversation flowed between easy laughter and deeper silences.  

‘I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous around someone,’ Jude confessed, swirling his drink with a half-smile.  

You raised an eyebrow. ‘You? Nervous?’

He nodded, a subtle vulnerability in his gaze that you hadn’t seen before. ‘Yeah. I guess I don’t really know how to... handle this.’

‘Handle what?’ you asked, your voice softening.  

‘This.’ He gestured between the two of you. ‘Whatever this is. I mean, you’ve been a part of my life now for what, a few weeks? But every time we’re together, it feels like something... more.’

The words hung in the air, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.  

You set your drink down and leaned forward, heart pounding. ‘Jude, I get it.’

His eyes flicked to yours, searching for the sincerity behind your words.  

‘You get what?’

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. ‘The pressure. The cameras, the fans, this whole world we live in. But I think... I think I’ve been avoiding this whatever this is between us, because it’s too complicated. I don’t know how to work it either.’

There was a long pause before Jude finally spoke, his voice low and steady. ‘I don’t want to keep pretending like it’s nothing. Like this isn’t affecting me. Because it is. Every time I see you, every time we talk, I can’t help but feel like I’m falling for you.’

Your heart hammered in your chest. ‘Jude, I...’

But before you could finish, he leaned in, his hand brushing against yours on the table. His touch was light but electric, sending a shiver up your spine.  

‘I don’t want to fight this anymore,’ he whispered, his eyes locked on yours. ‘I don’t want to pretend that I don’t want this. I want you.’ 

The tension between you both was insane. You could feel the weight of his words, and something inside you clicked. It was as if the floodgates had opened, and you finally understood that all the moments of hesitation, the awkwardness, and the teasing had been building up to this one point.  

Slowly, carefully, you leaned forward, closing the space between you. The kiss was gentle at first, almost tentative, like you both were unsure, testing the waters. But then Jude’s hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, and everything about that moment felt right.  

Your heart raced as you kissed him deeper, the world around you fading away. There was no camera, no pressure, no fans, just you and him, two people who had been dancing around this moment for far too long.  

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Jude rested his forehead against yours. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for so long,’ he murmured.  

You smiled, a little breathless yourself. ‘Me too.’

He laughed, that familiar spark returning to his eyes. ‘Guess it was worth the wait, huh?’

You nodded, still caught in the whirlwind of emotions. ‘Worth it.’

There was a comfortable silence as you both sat back in your seats, the world outside still unaware of what had just shifted between you.  

But in that moment, it didn’t matter. You’d crossed a line, one that couldn’t be uncrossed. Whatever happened next, you both knew it wouldn’t be easy. The cameras, the fans, the expectations, they’d all be there. But for the first time in weeks, you felt certain of one thing: you wanted this.  

And maybe, just maybe, he did too.  

The next day, you and Jude had to face reality. The media frenzy about your ‘relationship’ reached new heights, with every tabloid, Instagram post, and fan account speculating on what the kiss meant.  

But for once, it didn’t faze you. You were sitting next to him, the two of you quietly sipping coffee in the hotel lobby, exchanging glances and small smiles like you hadn’t just turned your world upside down.  

‘You know they’re gonna talk about this for days, right?’ you said, half-amused.  

Jude chuckled, reaching for your hand under the table. ‘Let them. We’ve got something real, even if they don’t get it.’

‘I’m okay with that.’ You squeezed his hand gently, the connection between you undeniable.  

And maybe that was the point. No matter what the world thought, you and Jude had found something real in the chaos. Something that couldn’t be captured by a camera, something just for the two of you.  

And for the first time in a long time, you felt free.  

ღ - m a s t e r l i s t

who i write for

alejandro balde

lights, camera, golazo - part one

lights, camera, golazo - part two

bound 2

pablo gavi

stadium lights, casablancan nights

ivy

a quiet kind of love.

valentines surprise.

yours to hold.

el mar, el sol y mi corazón.

love && war.

love && war 2.

jamal musiala

for better or for best

the alchemy

boyfriend headcannons

london days.

joao felix

girl dad head cannons

joao felix x non famous girl headcannons

joao felix x sassy girl headcannons

it’s still intact, right?

la rainha de cobham

hell n back

lottery

one wrong digit.

one wrong digit. part 2.

one wrong digit. part 3.

amore a milan.

is this a curse..?

yours for the day.

retail therapy… or not?

lost && found.

priorities.

delicate.

my girls curls.

hector fort

boyfriend headcannons

moonlight

my favourite player.

unexpected but never a problem.

jude bellingham

all eyes on us

kiss of life

madrid, maybe.

not enough for you.

kenan yildiz

i knew you were trouble

cut my hair

in your arms, always.

table for 2.

‘who’s jeans..?’

silent devotion.

first date dilemmas.

match made in turin.

the love of italia.

‘and we created you in pairs.’

hidden in plain sight.

guille fernandez

back to you.

sneaking around.

toni fernandez

playing for keeps.

marc bernal

the best kind of trip.

pau cubarsi

attached by the arms.

kieran tierney

moving on.

taa (trent)

headlines.

charles leclerc

maman et papa.

NOT MY EDIT

I’m writing for him after seeing this