Love looks pretty on you - Part 1
Pairing: Jude Bellingham x reader
Summary: You haven't had a real date in over a year, and the tabloids have decided that makes you cursed — doomed to die alone. Jude just walked away from a relationship built on appearances, and now the media is painting him as the cold one who chose his career over love. A meeting at a coffee shop and an unguarded moment on the pitch after a match give the paparazzi exactly the photos neither of you meant to give them. So he proposes a deal: fake it until your curse is broken and his name is cleared.
Warnings: some curse words
Word count: 5.2k
a/n: Hi lovessss, here's the series I teased some weeks ago. I'm going to keep writing this; I'm liking where the story is going. I hope you like it; it's a fake dating trope. Give it a try. I'm planning for this to be between 4 and 6 parts. Also, this is a slow burn, so please be patient with me. Feedback and comments mean a lot to me; it helps to know your opinions, so if you have any thoughts, please let me know — it really helps me keep going.
My first language isn't English, so if you see any mistakes, I'm sorry. Please let me know so I can correct them. Also, if I should add another warning, please let me know. I really appreciate any feedback you can give.
You were sitting at the kitchen island, looking at your computer, trying so hard not to reread the article with the most horrific title about you. The girl that would die alone. After that, a photo of you and the few dates you had with different guys.
Most of them were first dates that didn't end up being anything, but the way the tabloid and the gossip magazine portrayed your love life as a total disaster with no remedy. You tried hard enough not to think about it, but with so many things said about it, it was starting to wear you down.
"If I were you, I'd stop reading them. It's not like it's true." Your best friend commented, shutting down the computer right in front of you.
"I mean, they got a point. It's been a year since my last date. It didn't end well," you muttered under your breath as you put the heel of your hand under your chin.
"Because you love assholes. And to be honest, you stop just to focus on your career. I support it, but not if you are torturing yourself with this." Kaira said to you with a worried look on her face, her blond hair shining under the lights.
"Got the point. I'm tired of this. I promise I'm going to stop reading it." Her green eyes approved your words as you just sat there. You were trying to focus on the fact that you needed your mind on the articles you needed to send by the end of the week.
You stood up quickly, remembering the meeting you had at one of the coffee shops. You were late, and you were never late. Not once. You couldn't even believe it. You cursed under your breath, trying to keep calm.
"I'm late." You whispered, taking your bag and keys. You couldn't bother to wave Kaira goodbye as you stormed out of the front door, and you heard her say.
"Goodbye to you too." As she laughed, knowing how you'll be cursing yourself for forgetting.
You tried so hard to keep your composure as you walked quickly under the bright sun of Spain, people chatting between each other, laughing as the summer came by. The only thing you could think about was the opportunity given to you to write a book, a deal before you even started, just because your article left them amazed. Your dream was becoming true, and you were just starting.
After the important meeting to see more details about the guidelines you needed and the number of articles per month you needed to write.
You sat there, coffee in hand and laptop on the table, focusing your eyes on your calendar and how it looked. Suddenly you had a lot of work and money to pay off the rent that Kaira hadn't asked you to pay; in fact, she insisted that you needed to focus on your career and not worry about the money.
You couldn't live like it.
You took a quick sip as your eyes wandered to the big windows. One fun fact about this special coffee shop was that you could see outside, but the people walking around them only saw black.
The kind of place famous people and celebrities used to have peace in their busy lives. The only reason you agreed to meet this was to have a quiet chat with one of the most famous editors in Europe, and you didn't want people gossiping about your love life just because they saw you with a man.
You saw a gathering of people on the other side of the street; you ignored it as you looked at your computer, your second article of the week open, words flooding. Until you saw a tall guy jogging towards the coffee shop, wearing a hat and hiding behind its doors.
Curiosity got the better of you as you shamelessly looked at his frame; he looked athletic, and his skin was a deep brown from constant sun exposure. Your eyes couldn't wander to his face as blush crept into your cheeks.
You ignored him as you kept working; you needed to finish writing this so you could.
"Hey beautiful," a guy you hadn't noticed approached you, with that creepy smile on his lips and the kind of look that screams trouble.
You gave him a tight smile, ignoring him. You didn't need problems or attention when you went into this coffee shop to have some peace.
"I'm talking to you," The man said, taking the seat across from you, making you tense up. You took the coffee between your hands as you tried hard not to be nervous. These guys always smell fear and innocence.
"Sorry, I'm busy…" You excused yourself, praying that he would leave you alone. You took a sip as he gave you the look of annoyance at being difficult.
"I want a chat…" He grinned at you as you looked away towards the window, trying to dismiss him without being too harsh.
"I'm in the middle of something," you explained to him, your fake smile dropping into a frown on your forehead, trying so hard to be smooth and calm with the situation, but he didn't take the hint or just ignore it.
"You can make time for me," he said with a predatory look that made your stomach twitch. You grew more uncomfortable with each passing second, him sitting right there without an ounce of shame.
"I…" Before more words could come out of your mouth, you saw a big hand around the shoulder of the strange person bothering you.
"Mate, you're sitting in my place. Maybe you could go and come back later." That thick British accent flooded your ears as your head snapped towards your savior in every way of the word.
"Yes, I didn't know that it was taken." Faster than lightning, the man bothering you disappeared toward the door. You laughed quietly that only a man would listen to another man's request and not yours.
"Thank you." You whispered, raising your head towards the man, and you froze in your place. The man sat down across from you, and you recognized him as the guy who ran towards the coffee shop and that face.
He was a famous footballer. God. That sharp face, playful smile, and serious eyes—you had seen him on magazines and billboards.
"He seems to be bothering you," he commented calmly as he looked you directly into your eyes with his dark brown eyes. You fidgeted with your fingers as you looked over his shoulder to see the coffee shop almost empty.
"Yeah, they never seem to take the hint," you joked nervously as you tried to be composed. You flashed him a shy smile as he was taking you in; you could feel your skin prickle.
"I saw. I hope I'm not bothering you as he did," he said half-jokingly, and you knew he was tasting the waters.
"No, after what you did for me, you couldn't bother me." You answered him with a smile, putting your coffee beside his on the table, your computer black from the lack of typing since the incident. "You were running away from some fans, no?"
"You saw that?" He asked as his cheeks tinted into a blush you could barely see. You nodded as you looked out the window. His eyes followed yours.
"Yes, it made a lot of sense to hide here." You commented, closing your laptop, knowing you wouldn't end your article after all this. You focused on his face, a little stubble on his chin and a small smile adorning those full lips.
You tried to act normal, not give hints that you already knew his name, even if you didn't know a lot about him, just enough for you to have a little impression of him and his game.
"I think I recognize you from somewhere," he said, his eyes fixed on you, and in that moment you knew it; he saw the recognition flashing in your eyes at his face. You shrugged, tension building.
If he actually knew you, he knew the thing they said about you, as you knew about his private life via gossip articles. Well, long ago.
"I'm pretty sure I've seen your face on some billboards too." You fired back, easing the tension a little bit as he let a quiet laugh break.
"Actually, I thought you would fake that you didn't recognize me, but honestly, I've seen your face in some magazines." One of his hands took his coffee to take a sip, and your eyes fixated on how strong yet elegant they looked.
"We're even if you actually know my name." You said above your breath as he saw the hour on his phone.
"I prefer you saying it to me." Politely, he stood up, towering over you; you could see the muscles in his arms flexing under his t-shirt. Your eyes wandered toward his face with a kind smile, trying so hard to be normal.
It's been a while since the last interaction with a guy; you usually ran away from these situations, but for some reason you were comfortable enough to sit down and chat a little, even though he saved you earlier. You tend to be dry with your words, but for some reason it didn't fit with these.
Suddenly, you remember that you didn't dislike talking with a man; the problem was always the eyes around you. This coffee shop gives you enough comfort to be calm and be you.
You said your name in a formal greeting as you extended your hand towards him, and he did the same. Both of your hands warmed against each other, a grin blooming on his face as he said with pride.
"Nice to meet you, Jude." You tasted his name on your tongue, and you laughed at the awkward exchange, because both of you knew each other from articles, gossip, and more. You just hoped he knew your name for the thing you've done, not the curse they put you under.
"See you around," he ended his sentence with your name and went directly to the door without glancing back once. You saw him disappear in the streets of Spain, and you just felt content at finally being able to talk with someone who wasn't in your friend's grip.
"You're going," Kaira stated more confidently than you felt. Both your hands were in your lap as your best friend was pacing in front of her closet. You knew what she was asking, but you didn't want to second-guess your decision to stay in.
"No," You muttered between your teeth as you saw Kaira take a beautiful white top between her hands. You nodded, watching as she tried it on with some blue jeans.
"Please, I need someone; do it for me. I need company, and it's time for you to make more public appearances." Every word coming out of her mouth sounded lower than the previous one. The last part made you tense up.
She was right, but that doesn't mean you were comfortable doing it.
"I get the point…?" Kaira discarded the top and tried on a casual gray dress.
"My boyfriend loves Real Madrid. I promised him I would go with him. I need your company, my best friend," Kaira said with puppy eyes, and you couldn't say no to her. She didn't even know you met Jude in a coffee shop; you wanted it to be your secret for a while and didn't want your best friend to think other things that didn't even make sense.
Seeing her face, you sighed, knowing you would end up going with her, being the third wheel you always were. You got accustomed to it; it didn't bother you much, and you even had some fun going out with them.
"Alright, just… let me change into something nicer." You muttered with a little frown on your forehead as she jumped around with happiness.
You thought about Jude, but you were pretty sure, thanks to your knowledge of football, that he wasn't with Real Madrid. You couldn't say you had much information, but you were sure about this.
The stadium was roaring with noise, cheerful people everywhere; you could see most of them in Real Madrid T-shirts from afar, and you couldn't tell which player they were supporting. You sat comfortably in the private box. Kaira was by your side, taking a sip from some cocktail you already forgot the name of. Seeing around you, you were glad to be here. Kaira would lose her head with so many men talking about football.
You needed a distraction from all the stress on your shoulders with so much work to do, even if you love it. You needed to acclimate to doing more; you've been without work for months, aside from your Substack.
"How are you feeling?" Kaira asked, her polished blond hair slicked back, making the gray dress stand out. You smiled at her as you saw the pitch below you; some players were already warming up for the match.
The stadium buzzed with pure excitement as you moved in your seat, trying to seem at ease as you noticed the bright screens were showing the famous people attending. You knew that your face would be on the screen, Kaira, a famous model. Her boyfriend was one of the best actors of the moment, and the friends around you were celebrities.
You exhaled, trying to keep your composure and bracing yourself for the fact that it was time for you to go back into the world. After one and a half years, it was time for the world to see you again doing the opposite career you used to. In that moment, you felt Kaira's hand wrapping around yours.
"Easy, it's been a while since you shut down your social media. Almost nobody knows what's going on with you, and they're going to let the rumors die." She assured you as you scoffed. Your hands lay on your thighs, touching the jean fabric as you tried not to wonder about all the possibilities.
"I don't think so; people don't let gossip die about your love life. More if you don't even have a boyfriend to prove them wrong. In my case." You pointed out, as you laughed at the irony of the situation, that you were in the middle of people ready to judge you.
"Maybe, but it depends on you how much effort and space in your mind you put into it." Both of your faces appeared on the screen as Kaira smiled at you, and you forced your grin to widen, faking the confidence you'd lost; you felt the adrenaline of everyone's eyes on you in your veins.
Some cheers were heard; your cheeks blushed at the interaction.
Your eyes were glued to the screen when you recognized that dark brown hair perfectly trimmed at the sides. Your jaw dropped the moment the screen switched to the players on the pitch. Leaving the back of the head of the player, if you weren't wrong, from Real Madrid. It was your imagination, or was it really him?
The cameraman zoomed in on half of his face, his profile, of the same player. Your breath hitched at the sight. The camera shot showed the nape of his neck as his hair fell from his head towards his back.
Your blood froze at the sight of the last name shining proudly. The people roared at his name.
"Fuck" you whispered as his face appeared on the screen, a grin spreading onto his face showing his white teeth, playful but determined before the game. He was enjoying himself in the crowd, but he was focused; you could see it in his eyes, which showed discipline and calm.
"He's quite handsome, don't you think?" Kaira commented as she laughed, her attention turning to his boyfriend, who was explaining the players to her on the pitch.
You knew less of football than you thought. Luck was playing a trick on you.
Your mind was everywhere but on the match, trying to ignore the fact that Jude, the man who helped you out, was playing his life out on the pitch trying to win.
The minutes passed, and they felt like hours but at the same time as seconds. Your perception of time was completely distorted by the environment, the crowd, and your own mind playing tricks after so long without being out of an apartment.
The whistle echoed through the stadium; cheers erupted as people stood to celebrate the win. Bellingham won; his team won.
Kaira stood up for you as a random friend picked you up, and you laughed at the joy everyone felt. You let yourself feel the moment, cherish it.
You didn't notice your face coming into the screen. And you didn't know Jude saw it.
"No, I'm staying here." You said at the entrance of the private box. Baxian, Kaira's boyfriend's friend, was trying to convince you.
"Come on, we have this opportunity to be on the pitch with all the players of both teams." He commented, flashing you a smile that made your body shiver entirely.
"You're coming. The sponsors want us to be all there," He finally gave you something you couldn't deny.
You knew Baxian had that private box thanks to his sponsors. He promotes the brand and has certain privileges, such as access to the field. The thing here is that you knew he was trying so hard to impress you, but his blue eyes gave away that he wanted to be the one to show the rumors were wrong.
It was a dare for him. Men who see you as a dare never last long in your life.
Even knowing this, you agreed to go with them, attaching your arm to Kaira's; she smiled at you, but it didn't reach her eyes. You furrowed your eyebrows as you went down the stairs, gripping her arm harder.
"Everything is alright?" You asked her under your breath, seeing how the field started to look bigger than you expected.
"Yes, I'm just worried about you. I know how much this means to you. I wanted to say that I'm proud." She exhaled heavily as her eyes shone with tears of hope and happiness. Your smile quivered a little, knowing how much this meant to her and also to you.
"I'm fine, really. I'm here, so let's enjoy this." You said, trying to comfort her. Kaira took your hand off her arm and intertwined both your hands.
"Always together, against everything," She said as you passed the threshold onto the magnificent pitch, the green grass shining under the bright sun of midday. You could smell the grass and the sun.
A genuine smile plastered on your face as you let the moment sink into your bones. It wasn't that bad to have a public appearance; some people were still on the stands watching the players, and some of them cheered for the famous people who just walked onto the pitch to celebrate with Real Madrid.
"I don't want to push you but…" Kaira started to say as Baxian put his arm around your shoulders. You tensed up and gave him a tight smile, trying to ease into the celebratory environment and not focus on him. "You don't have a boyfriend; admire the players."
She winked at you as you just chuckled at her comment; she wanted something, but you could feel the unease, your intuition buzzing in your stomach at the anticipation of something. Or at least of someone you just met once.
You didn't look for him; he had to be with his family and teammates. He didn't know you were here, and you didn't meet him at all. Each passing moment was easier for you to breathe as some little girls waved their hands at you and you waved them back. They started to jump around at the fact you noticed them.
Baxian was saying something about the game, but your eyes were glued to the stand, watching each person; some of them were crying; others were smiling, and the people from the rival team were leaving; they didn't want to see Real Madrid players anymore.
Kaira's boyfriend noticed your boredom with Baxian and called him out on it. You nodded towards him as his friend approached. Thankful to be free to wander around the pitch, you could see some players hugging their families and others on the stands with their fans.
"Suddenly we cross each other's paths." You heard a male voice behind you as you jumped at the sudden intrusion. "I'm not going to do anything"
"I know, you just scared me." You said, in an accusatory tone, as you relaxed.
Jude Bellingham was in front of you with a bright smile, all covered in sweat. The sun shining brightly against his skin. The Real Madrid T-shirt clinging to his torso; in that moment you realize your eyes were evading his dark brown ones.
"I saw you on the screen. I didn't expect you to come to one of the games." He said, his hand massaging his neck; he looked worn out, but an energetic vibe was all over him.
"Me neither, to be honest, but here I am." You whispered as you furrowed your brow; you didn't know the players were too attentive to the screens. He chuckled as you just realized you hadn't congratulated him for his score and the game. "Sorry, congratulations on the win."
"I appreciated that. Were you even paying attention?" You would've been offended if you didn't hear the undertone of the joke in his voice. You gave him a shy grin as you just shook your head in total disbelief.
"Honestly, yes, I saw you score. It was impressive, actually." You felt flustered, feeling your cheeks flush, and you laughed it off. It was his turn to shake his head in total disbelief at your words.
The entire stand faded into background noise as he looked down at you. You hadn't noticed how tall he really was. You needed to start going out more; you couldn't be this sensitive towards men, people in general. This situation was consuming all your energy, but you didn't mind at all; you were having a great time.
"I don't believe you." You were about to argue when you saw his smile; he was totally messing with you. You felt at ease; you could feel Baxian's eyes burning on your scalp, but you ignored him completely.
"It's nice to see you. I hope you start watching more matches," He said as one of his teammates was calling his name; he waved at them to wait for more time.
"I don't know, maybe I'd rather go to other places. But I'll keep checking." His eyes widened at the attempt at your joke, and he gave you a grin.
"I would greet you better, but I'm covered all over in sweat…" You saw one of his teammates trying to get Jude's attention, and reality hit you. "I'm coming…"
"Don't worry, go and celebrate Bellingham; you deserve it." You waved him goodbye as you saw Kaira approaching you too, striding. You could sense her amusement about the situation you were in.
"See you around, but really…" he said like he meant it, and you decided to believe him. Before he was long gone, you shouted at him. "I swear I saw your score…" With that said, you turned your back towards him to prepare for the things Kaira was going to question you about Jude. You didn't hear Jude's laugh, or the way his teammate saw him.
"I'll tell you everything, but first we go to the flats." The words blurted out of your mouth as she laughed so hard you thought she couldn't breathe anymore.
"You devil thing." She whispered, hugging you as you went to the exit of the stadium, ready to call off the day.
You were so at ease that you didn't notice the flash, the cameras, all the people around the interaction between the Real Madrid players and you. You saw the photo of the two of you by the next morning.
Laughing, all cheekily and smiling like both of you were enjoying the conversation after the games. The rumors started to spread, and you cursed yourself, shutting down your private social media because nobody actually let the narrative of being unlovable die; they were feeding it again.
You just hoped Jude didn't seem to bother about it because you enjoyed yourself with him, like in a really long time you haven't.
"This is…" Jude Bellingham's voice took over your ears. The glass that was about to be filled with water fell onto the floor.
"Who gave you my number?" You knew why he called; you saw the glass shattered on the floor as you tried so hard not to panic. You couldn't even think about the way your voice sounded slower, with caution.
"Kaira." One name. You are going to kill her when she passes the threshold of the flat.
"What?" You couldn't believe it; you paced through the apartment, trying to clean the glass you just let fall at the sound of Jude's voice on the other side of the line.
"Your best friend." You could hear a chuckle. You saw the glass scattered all over the kitchen floor, and you cursed in your mind.
"Yes, I know who Kaira is…" You answered him, putting the phone between your ear and shoulder. You squatted and started picking up the glass on the floor as you exhaled heavily, knowing why he called you. "Look, Jude, I saw the photos. I'm sorry I got you into a narrative you didn't want to be part of…"
"Wait, the gossip shit they are telling? The lies about your love life. You're sorry for that?" He asked you with that British accent that still impresses you every time.
"Yeah, look, just… it needs time to cool down…" You tried to explain yourself more as you threw the rest of the glass into the trash.
"Stop right there." You stopped in your tracks at the seriousness of his voice. You sat down on the kitchen island because you had a feeling this conversation would take a 180-degree turn. "I called you because I have a proposal."
"About what?" Curiosity took the best of you. You cursed yourself for answering so quickly, but you couldn't imagine what this was about.
"First of all, I don't believe the narrative they say about you." He clarified politely. You hid a scoff, but it didn't work. "I don't know you, but for the two times I've seen you, I don't believe it. I don't buy that narrative."
"Well, hypothetical, I believe you. You don't buy my cursed narrative. Go on…" You said, trying to change the uncomfortable topic. It's been a while since someone was that direct with you about the lies spread online.
"I suppose you want those narratives to stop, to have someone long enough for them to die." You tense up; you were trying so hard not to let your mind wander, but it was hard. "I come with the idea to use the photos of us and to start fake dating. You being my girlfriend and I your boyfriend for a while till the narrative dies."
"What?" You whispered-shouted; you couldn't believe the deal he was giving you. Your palms started to sweat as you kept your phone on speakerphone, gripping it so hard you knew your knuckles were white.
"I know it sounds crazy, and we don't know each other, but it benefits both." You noticed a little quivering in his voice as you rasped your throat, trying to keep up with his train of thought.
"Both? I can't see why it benefits you." You were honest; you didn't know a lot about him. You shut down your private social media account, the one you sometimes used to stay updated. The moment you saw the first photo of you and Jude at the field, you erased it. You didn't want to see it; you were trying to build your new life brick by brick.
"I ended my last relationship not on such good terms," he confessed. The way his voice sounded tight told you it was hard for him to admit. You needed more detail; you were pretty sure he did his own research on you. You needed more context.
"Look, I know it's hard, but I need more than that to understand." Your voice softened a little as you curled yourself on the sofa, looking at the window. The sky was blue, and the sun was brighter than you expected.
"I know. I'm going to be straightforward. My ex-girlfriend only wanted me for fame and money; I realized it too late. I let it be for a long time because I couldn't accept it until I couldn't deny it anymore: the fights about me being away for tournaments, the appearance she wanted to give to the public that we were always together, it was too much, so I broke up with her." He took a breath to continue as you opened your eyes with surprise at his words.
"Oh…" That's all you could manage to get out of your mouth. You thought it was the end of the story, but by the way he exhaled, you knew it was more.
A girlfriend like that sounds like a total nightmare, only for appearances, money, and his fame. It was a hard decision; you couldn't believe he had to live like that—fakeness in his everyday life.
"So… everything was calm until she started to give interviews, painting me like the cold one, the one who would choose his career over someone he loves. I was the guy who never showed up when I was like that until I realized she loved my fame more than me." You listened carefully, analyzing every word. His voice sounded sincere, with a tint of frustration.
He didn't want to seem like that, and suddenly, you realized why he was giving you the deal. He will help you diminish the rumors that you are unlovable, and you will help him erase the speculation that he is cold. You still have a question about whether he'll put love over his career, but it was none of your business. In the end, this was a PR stunt.
"Now I trauma dumped you, sorry if this makes you say no to…" You interrupted him before he said anything else. Fidgeting with your fingers, you made a decision. In a million years, you thought you would be in this situation with a footballer.
"I'm in." You didn't hesitate for a second; maybe you would regret it, but after being a ghost for over one and a half years and making your first public appearance, you needed this. After that, they started the same nasty rumors. Enough was enough.
"Seriously? For a moment I was afraid you'd think I was crazy." He laughed it off, and you heard shuffling on the other end of the phone. You chuckled at his comment.
"Maybe I think you're crazy, but I am crazy enough on my own to accept this idea."
Taglists: If you want to be on the taglist for this series, put it in this part 1; if you want to be on the taglist for all my work, put it in the masterlist section. If you want to be removed from it, please let me know there as well
