#at least i dont think i implied a gender here so please lmk if you find otherwise

[clov3sr]

Uno, Out | Jude Bellingham

♡ — pairing(s): Jude Bellingham x reader

♢ — author annotations: hi my name is clov3 there's a global demand for pretty football boy fanfics and I write here look at me writings hehe

♤ — c/t w(s): none <3

♧ — synopsis: Your best friend Jude accidentally ends your hangout with a love confession.

♫ — music inspo.: JUST FRIENDS BY AUDREY MIKA

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ 1:11 ───ㅇ───── 2:48

GIF by avenirdelight

"Grow the hell up, Bellingham."

"I'm just saying that's not a legit UNO rule, and I think you know that."

"What I know?" You pause, dramatic as always. Jude misses that flair when he's away. "Is that as newly delegated UNO champion I can't understand your peasant ramblings? What are you saying right now, Ju?"

He doesn't have to look to know the stupid grin you're wearing, but he does anyway and bites his own bottom lip so as not to smile himself. You've just finished tidying the game and snacks up, and his blanket you'd for years claimed as yours had been folded and discarded on your loveseat. He almost forgets what he's looking for, but seeing his shoes in the corner of his vision jogs his memory.

"Man," he exhales, one hand on the wall steadying himself as he lazily shoves his feet into his shoes. In the corner nearest the door is a pair of his slippers that you keep around for him, should he need or want them. "It was just one game."

"Don't care. You got dethroned."

You've approached the entryway now, hands defiantly on your hips. Your head is tilted upwards, partly because Jude is tall and partly a consequence of your ballooned ego. Jude wants to bask in your amusement for much, much longer, too much longer than appropriate for just friends, but yet another notification from the team group chat reminds him that he really can't stay.

He yearns to stay with you.

He could bring up how he'd won the three games beforehand, but the moment is gone now, and he opts to just shake his head.

"Don't die, okay?" You huff, and he gives one last glance that he pleads with every God out there that it isn't full of too much longing for you. He knows what you're asking.

"I'll text you."

You only hum in response. It's been a couple of months now, that every time he leaves you, he wants to pepper your face with kisses and assure you that he can't wait to return. He wants to come home to your signature scent, an airy contrast to the usual smell of cut grass and athletic equipment. He imagines you drowning in one of his shirts, that perfect, stupid, contagious grin to comfort him about leaving.

"Bye, Jude,"

You say something, and he hears it, but the words don't quite penetrate his brain. You're probably saying bye. Your voice is like a song he'll never be able to overplay, a saccharine syrup he will never get tired of swimming in. Jude imagines you embracing him fondly right before he walks out the door. He envisions making sure you know, always,

"Bye, y/n, I love you."

"What?"

Fuck.

His subtle smile drops. He's already got one foot out the door, he's already got his lanyard in one hand ready to fish out the car keys, the other in the middle of closing the door behind him. He can't see your face.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The door is closed. He swears he hears a confused call of his name, followed by another confused "what?" but if he did, it was too muffled by the very shut front door for him to be sure. He's already in the motion of casually strolling toward his car.

Fuck? Fuck.

He could cry right now, but he's too dumbfounded, and before the grief can reach a resulting action, he's starting the car.

No, it's sinking in now.

In his peripheral he sees your front door fly back open. You're running out to his car, no shoes on. He's complained to you about that before -- you could step on something sharp. Before he can decide what to do, you've nearly fallen face-first into the driver-side window while halting to a stop, swinging open his car door. Your eyes are wide as you balance one hand on your bare knee, the other holding the door open.

"I love you too!"

♢ — author postnote (s): gym equipment has that goddamn smell bro ik you know what im talking about shit. like its got me heated rn is there a word for that smell. also this app sucks how many times do I have to post this