FOOTBALL IMAGINES

sick | jude bellingham

you'd told him that you were fine, and that he didn't have to come over. but he could tell by your voice over the phone that you weren't feeling as good as you were telling him. so he made the decision that he would come over and visit you, bring you a couple of things that he had seen you use when you weren't feeling well before.

you were bundled up on the couch, surrounded by blankets and pillows, when you heard the knock on the door. you made your way over, looking through the peep hole, thinking it was probably a delivery driver, but your eyes met jude's worried one's through the tiny glass hole. you put the chain on the door, opening it so jude couldn't see your face fully.

"i told you not to come over," you mumbled, your voice nasally, as you peeked at him through the gap in the door.

"i know you did, but i'm ill and i want to look after you. so please just open the door."

you sighed, opening the door. jude's expression softened when he saw your tired eyes and red nose. "don't come near me, i don't want you to get sick too."

"don't be stupid," he said, pulling you into a hug. "let's get you back to bed. i'll make you a nice cup of tea, and we can watch a film together, yeah?"

you nodded against his chest, before he picked you up, holding you in strong arms, as he carried you up the stairs to bed. he spent the rest of the day, never allowing you to move a finger until you were feeling a little better.