Jude Bellingham

Jude has learned something dangerously useful about you.

You can handle his teasing. You can ignore his dramatic sighs. You can even survive the ridiculous pout he puts on whenever you tell him no.

But the moment his voice goes soft?

You’re finished.

“Baby, no,” you tell him firmly, barely looking up from what you’re doing. “You’ve had enough.”

Jude goes quiet beside you.

Suspiciously quiet.

Then you feel his enormous frame inching closer until his shoulder presses against yours. His chin settles carefully on your shoulder, arms loosely circling your waist from behind.

“Please?”

“No.”

A pause.

His nose brushes your cheek.

“Pleeease…”

“Jude.”

He knows he’s losing, so naturally he brings out the worst weapon imaginable.

“Mummy,” he murmurs sweetly, dragging the word out. “Please?”

You slowly turn your head.

And there they are.

Those stupid brown puppy eyes.

Jude is practically folded around you despite being far too big to convincingly play the helpless baby—head tipped slightly, lips pushed into the tiniest pout, looking at you as though you’ve denied him his only source of happiness.

Sleepy Jude doesn’t ask for affection.

He simply comes to collect you.

You’re still doing something when you hear slow footsteps approaching.

You don’t even need to turn around.

“No.”

The footsteps stop.

You glance over your shoulder.

Jude is standing there looking absolutely enormous and completely pathetic—shirt rumpled, curls flattened on one side, eyes barely open.

“Didn’t say anything,” he mumbles.

“I know exactly what you want.”

He blinks slowly.

Then stretches both arms toward you.

“Bed.”

“I’m busy.”

“Bed.”

“Go without me.”

“No.”

“Jude—”

Apparently conversation time is over.

He walks forward, wraps both arms around your waist and drops practically all his weight against your back.

“Jesus—Jude!”

“M’tired.”

“So go sleep!”

“Need you.”

“You don’t need me to sleep.”

Jude makes a sleepy little noise of disagreement, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

And then he just… stays there.

A six-foot-something human blanket attached to your back.

You attempt to move.

Jude moves with you.

You reach for something.

Jude shuffles along behind you.

“Are you seriously going to follow me around like this?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Mhm.”

“You’re spoiled.”

Another sleepy hum.

Then his lips lazily press against your shoulder.

“Mummy.”

You freeze.

Jude knows exactly what he’s doing, even half-asleep.