welcome to humannaturess! in this post you will find all of the important links of this blog as well as some rules. please read !
—.✦ ݁˖ requests are currently: open
jackson masterlist | football masterlist | taglist
who i write for:
⟢ the jacksons
michael jackson, jaafar jackson, jermajesty jackson, randy jackson jr, marlon jackson, jackie jackson, tito jackson, jermaine jackson.
⟢ football players
jude bellingham, jamal musiala, jobe bellingham, erling haaland, and michael olise are going to be my top five. feel free to request others if you'd like— i may or may not write for them.
rules:
be patient ; follow this post to know when requests are open or closed ; i will always be updating it ; be respectful, otherwise you'll get blocked.
— Bf!Jobe who is very aware of the height difference between the two of you—not in an obnoxious way, but in a cute, protective way.
— Bf!Jobe who notices everything: the way you have to look up at him when you're talking, how easily he can rest his chin on top of your head because you fit perfectly beneath it, and how his hoodies practically swallow you whole.
— Bf!Jobe who automatically reaches for anything on the top shelf before you even have a chance to ask for help.
— Bf!Jobe who bends down whenever you're trying to whisper something into his ear.
— Bf!Jobe who’ll put you in “air jail” until you stop being mad at him for forgetting to do the laundry.
— Bf!Jobe who finds it extremely adorable when you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss him, quickly becoming one of his favorite sights ever.
— Bf!Jobe who absolutely loves showering you with forehead kisses, especially when he has you safely tucked in his arms, holding you close and tight.
— Bf!Jobe who loves being the big spoon, holding your smaller frame as close to his body as possible, his arms wrapped securely around you while he hides his face in the crook of your neck.
— Bf!Jobe who also loves being the little spoon from time to time, because it means he can turn around, curl into you, and snuggle his face into your chest, quietly inhaling your scent as he relaxes in your arms.
— Bf!Jobe who loves when you gently tug on his shirt to get his attention. The first time you did it, it was just a joke, but when you noticed how much he loved it, you made it a habit—and now he always looks down at you with the softest smile when you do.
— Bf!Jobe who always puts his hand on your back when you're walking through a crowded place, keeping you close without even thinking about it.
— Bf!Jobe who immediately lays himself on top of you the second he notices you even thinking about getting up from the couch, clearly deciding that cuddling isn’t over yet.
— Bf!Jobe who teases you about your height, but never makes you feel small because of it.
— Bf!Jobe who loves when you hug him because your face naturally ends up against his chest, giving him the perfect excuse to wrap both arms around you and rest his cheek on top of your head, holding you close.
— Bf!Jobe who has a size kink.
— Bf!Jobe who gets extremely turned on by seeing you in his clothes.
— Bf!Jobe who loves seeing the little bump that forms in your stomach when he’s pounding into you, softly pressing on it.
— Bf!Jobe who will pick you up with ease, wrap your legs around his wait, and press you against the wall as he thrusts into you—hard and deep.
— Bf!Jobe who will whisper in your ear how much he loves watching his dick disappear inside your tight pussy.
— Bf!Jobe who can easily hold you with one arm and hold himself with the other while you have your legs wrapped around his waist while he drills into your wet folds.
nugget and jermajesty doing reckless shit as like teens or something and getting caught by like randy or jaafar?
Like jermajesty and nugget actually getting along for once and like snuck out to a party when they were in high school or something and it was all cool till they snuck back in and either jaafar or randy is like in nuggets room or something and caught them? And maybe like nugget is a little drunk or high and then the two start fighting on who’s fault it was getting caught. YOU DONT HAVE TO DO THIS BUT THIS WAS JUST A RANDOM THOUGHT OF MINE!
THE PLAN had been simple: sneak out and go to the party without getting caught.
Nobody was supposed to know.
And, for the first few hours, it actually worked.
You and Jermajesty were having a good week, so you both decided to attend the party together, which was probably the most shocking part of the entire night. You spent most of the night making fun of people together, stealing snacks from the kitchen, and pretending you weren't both keeping an eye on the front door in case somebody you knew showed up.
The funny thing about the whole situation was that your parents hadn't let you two go initially because you were leaving early the next morning for vacation.
You said you'd only go for a bit, but then someone handed you a drink that tasted like juice, so you had another, then another. Somewhere around drink number four, you announced to Jermajesty that you were "basically immune to alcohol."
Ten minutes later, you were sitting on the kitchen floor, eating some crackers you'd found.
That's when Jermajesty decided you needed to go home.
Getting out of the party was easy, but getting home? Not so much. Thank God the party was down the block, because you spent the entire walk insisting you weren't drunk while tripping over your own feet.
At some point, Jermajesty got tired of making sure you didn't end up with a scraped knee, so he carried you on his back.
By the time you reached the house, you were convinced you were an expert at sneaking around. Unfortunately, your expertise did not include opening doors.
You stood in front of the front door for nearly a full minute, just staring at the handle.
“What's wrong?”
“It's locked.”
Jermajesty tried it, and the door opened immediately.
“Next time, use your hand, not your telepathic powers.”
You finally made it to your bedroom, and when you opened the door, you froze at the sight of Jaafar sitting in your desk chair.
You slowly closed the door.
“Oh, we're fucked,” Jermajesty whispered behind you. “Don't say that,” you whispered back. “Why?” he asked, still whispering. “Because then it'll be true, dumbass.”
Jaafar looked at you, then at Jermajesty, and finally at the sunglasses you had somehow ended up wearing.
“Where were you?” Jaafar raised an eyebrow. “His fault.” You immediately pointed at your twin brother, making his jaw drop.
“My fault?!” Jermajesty looked betrayed. “You're the one who wanted to go!” you said. “You were the one who said we should sneak out!” He pointed at you. “You agreed!”
“You threatened to tell Mom I stole your hoodie!” Jermajesty crossed his arms. “You did steal my hoodie!” You crossed your arms again. “You left it on my bed! And who gets the exact same hoodie as me and expects me not to grab it?!”
He flicked your forehead. “Because my asshole brother won't let me borrow it!”
“You're twins!” Jaafar snapped, making both of you go silent. “You share DNA, you have shared a room, you share clothes—or try to. Why the fuck does every single conversation between you two turn into an argument?” Jaafar looked exhausted.
You considered what he said for exactly two seconds before you shrugged.
“It's his fault.” You pointed at Jermajesty once again.
“You're unbelievable.” Jermajesty stared at you.
“You're annoying.”
“You're drunk.”
“You're ugly.”
“You've been wearing my sunglasses for three hours.”
“I thought these were mine.” You looked down at them.
“They are mine.”
You immediately took them off and threw them at him. He caught them.
“You're both grounded.”
“What?! You can't ground us,” Jermajesty said.
Your eyes started watering, and both of your brothers started to panic. Jaafar's expression dropped, and Jermajesty's eyes went wide.
“Oh, shit.” Jermajesty immediately panicked. “Don't cry. Don't cry, don't cry—” Jaafar walked over and hugged you. “I’m not crying,” you mumbled, wiping your eyes. “You are literally crying.” Jermajesty said before walking into your bathroom and coming back with some makeup remover wipes.
“I’m tired!”
“You're drunk.”
“I’m tired!” You whimpered. “Fine. You're not grounded.” Jaafar sighed, kissing your forehead.“Really?” Your face immediately brightened. “Really.”
You sniffled, finally relaxing against him as he rubbed your back. Jermajesty stood in front of you, gently wiping under your eyes with the makeup remover wipe he'd grabbed.
“Jesus Christ, you're a mess,” he muttered. “I'm pretty.” You frowned at him. “You look like evil Bucky Barnes.” He laughed. “I don't think calling your twin sister hot is okay, your majesty.”
He kept cleaning your face, accidentally poking you in the eye because you just wouldn't stay still, despite Jaafar having his arms around you, making sure you didn't become a safety hazard for any of them.
“Ow.” You whined. “Stay still.” Jaafar held your head. “You're annoying.” You looked at Jermajesty. “And you're drunk.” He kissed your cheek after he was done removing your makeup. “I’m tired,” you insisted, your voice getting quieter as you leaned against Jaafar.
Jaafar looked down at you, then at Jermajesty.
“She's going to hate us tomorrow.” Jaafar laughed softly. “Definitely.” Jermajesty nodded as he grabbed a hoodie and some sweatpants for you. “I can hear you.” You yawned. “Change and go to sleep.” Jaafar let go of you.
You groaned and made your way to the bathroom.
“She’s gonna be a nightmare in the morning.” Jermajesty glanced at Jaafar. “She already is.” Jaafar sighed.
Five minutes later, you walked out of the bathroom, sniffing your hoodie.
“So that's my hoodie.” Jermajesty stared at you for a second before realizing what you'd done. “You put on my hoodie?”
“It smells like you.” You sniffed the sleeve again, your face scrunching up. “Because it's mine?” he said in an obvious tone. “It smells bad.” You hiccuped. “You literally stole it.” He blinked.
You looked down at the hoodie.
“Can I keep it?”
Jermajesty sighed, knowing he wasn't going to win this one, much less now.
“Yeah. Whatever.”
“Woo.” Your face immediately brightened.
“Now go to sleep before you start crying about something else.” Jaafar shook his head, trying not to laugh. “I'm not crying.” You climbed into bed, pulling the hoodie sleeves over your hands. “You were crying over a hoodie thirty seconds ago.” Jaafar threw your covers over you.
“It smelled like a man.”
“Goodnight, Happy Meal.”
“Goodnight, asshole. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
You smiled sleepily and pulled the blanket over your head.
Remember that post you did for the Bellingham's, Jamal and Olise? Can we please get more of those?
CURRENT BOYFRIEND
꒰ contents ꒱ you do the 'current boyfriend' trend on your boyfriend.
featuring .ᐟ⋆˙⟡ ― jude bellingham, jobe bellingham, jamal musiala, erling haaland, michael olise.
JUDE BELLINGHAM — You had been filming a little recipe vlog for your Instagram when you decided it was the perfect time to prank Jude. The camera was already propped up, capturing the cute table setup in front of you, while Jude sat next to you, completely focused on the plate he was about to attack. He didn't have a clue he was about to become the main character of your video.
"Okay, guys, I'm here with my current boyfriend, Jude—"
"Your what?" He looked up from the plate he was about to attack.
You immediately bit the inside of your cheek, trying so hard not to laugh, while Jude just stared at you in complete disbelief. His brows furrowed as though he'd just heard the most outrageous thing in the world.
"Your current boyfriend?" You shrugged innocently. "Yeah?" He gasped. "Current?" You nodded."Mhm."
"What does that mean?" He looked at you, a little more serious now. "It means you're currently my boyfriend." You stated matter-of-factly. "No, no." He shook his head. "That's not what that means."
"What do you think it means?" You were struggling to fight back a laugh. "It means I'm on a contract."
That made you burst out laughing, covering your mouth while Jude only looked more offended by the second.
"You're laughing, but I'm being serious." Jude pointed at you accusingly. "It's a trend! It's a trend!" You fanned yourself as you kept laughing."I don't care if it's a trend. Why am I current?" He crossed his arms over his chest, his toned biceps popping out some more.
"Would you prefer 'my boyfriend Jude'?" You teased. "Yes, actually." He sassed. "My boyfriend Jude." You said. "Better." He nodded with a satisfied expression on his face, as though the matter had finally been settled.
You turned back toward the camera.
"My boyfriend Jude, everybody."
"Forever boyfriend," he interrupted, pointing his finger up as he clarified his position.
You looked at him with an unimpressed look as he crossed his arms, clearly pleased with himself.
"Put that in the video." He pointed at the camera. "Forever boyfriend?" You laughed. "Yes, FOREVER BOYFRIEND."
"Someone's insecure." You grinned. "I'm not insecure." He whined. "You've literally been complaining about a prank for five minutes." You softly caressed his arm, still trying not to laugh. "Because I don't plan on becoming your former boyfriend, I am a FOREVER BOYFRIEND."
You couldn't help but smile at his determination. Before you could even respond, he looked toward the camera again, his expression suddenly turning completely serious.
"Actually, I take that back." He paused. "I won't be a forever boyfriend, I'll be her husband one day."
"You're very cute, and dramatic." You smiled at your forever boyfriend/future husband.
"Tell them I'm not current." He leaned toward the camera. "He's not current." You looked at the camera.
"Good."
He paused, apparently thinking about it for another second.
"Delete the original."
You laughed.
"Absolutely not."
"FOREVER HUSBAND."
JOBE BELLINGHAM — Jobe didn't even notice it the first time. You were cuddled up against his chest with your legs draped over his, comfortably settled together on the couch as you filmed a casual video like the two of you always did. His fingers played with your hair, gently combing through the strands while you held the phone out in front of you.
"And this is my current boyfriend, Jobe." You angled the phone toward him. "Hi." He waved at the camera.
You nearly lost it.
A few seconds passed before the movement of his fingers in your hair gradually stopped. Realization seemed to hit him all at once. Finally, he looked down at you.
"Wait."
"What?"
"You said current boyfriend."
"Yeah."
"Why current?" He frowned. "Because you're my boyfriend currently." You said, shrugging your shoulders. "Are you threatening me?" Jobe stared at you for a few seconds.
You couldn't hold it in anymore, letting your head fall back in laughter as he just stared at you, clearly trying to figure out whether you were joking or not.
"I knew you'd notice eventually! Good Jobe." You softly pinched his cheek. "Enough with the name jokes. Eventually?" He looked genuinely offended. "You just slipped that in there like it was normal."
"It is normal." You defended, trying to at least keep some of your act going. "No, it isn't." You laughed harder.
He reached for your phone and looked at the screen.
"Delete it."
"No."
"Please."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because your face was funny." He sighed, leaning back against the couch. "So I'm just temporary?" He asked dramatically. "Jobe." You giggled. "I'm temporary." He said again, sounding even more offended this time.
"You're being ridiculous."
He looked at you.
"Am I?"
You couldn't fight back a smile.
"Who's replacing me?"
"Absolutely no one."
"Good." He dropped the dramatic act, the satisfied little smile on his face making it obvious that was all he was after.
You shook your head, still laughing as he pulled you closer to his chest. His arms settled around you, effortlessly pulling you back into him.
"So can I post it?" You asked, snuggling closer against his chest and inhaling his familiar scent. "Yes, but use a good caption." He kissed your head. "Like?"
He thought for a moment, his fingers lazily tracing through your hair again.
"My only boyfriend." He smiled proudly.
"Possessive." You smiled.
"Just accurate."
JAMAL MUSIALA — You were sitting beside Jamal on the couch. The two of you had been filming some cute TikTok trends while he had one arm wrapped comfortably around you, keeping you tucked against his side.
"Y'all are always asking where he is, so here is my current boyfriend, Jamal." You turned the camera toward him with a smile. "Hi," he said cheerfully, giving the camera a little wave.
You waited as he smiled at the camera, watching his expression slowly change. His eyebrows pulled together, and his smile gradually disappeared.
"Current?" Jamal turned toward you, looking genuinely offended. "Why did you say current?"
"It's a trend!" You immediately started laughing. "I don't care." His eyes went wide, giving you that unmistakable Bambi look that somehow made it impossible to take him seriously.
"Why am I current?" He asked. "Because you're currently my boyfriend." You explained. "No." He shook his head. "No, that's not good enough."
"Jamal!"
"Imagine I introduced you as my current girlfriend."
"I wouldn't care."
"The hell you wouldn't!" He exclaimed. "You would be like what do you mean current, Jamal? Who's next?" He pretended to fake your voice, making you laugh harder.
"I would not!"
"Yes, you would."
He crossed his arms, looking away with an exaggerated pout.
"Oh my God." You stared at him.
"What?" He asked without looking at you. "Are you actually sulking?" You carefully shifted onto his lap, settling yourself comfortably as he continued to stare off to the side. "I'm not sulking." He said as he continued to sulk. "You are." You copied his pout.
"I'm disappointed."
"In me?" You asked, and he nodded, making you laugh as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Baby, you know you're my boyfriend." Your teasing tone was replaced with a tender one. "But apparently I'm your current boyfriend." He emphasized the word dramatically.
"It's just a TikTok trend." You softly caressed the back of his neck. "But I don't like it. It sounds like there's an expiration date."
You softened at that, your expression turning more affectionate.
"There's no expiration date."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He held out his pinky, and you hooked yours around it. The playful tension between you melted away as you both sealed the promise with the smallest, sweetest gesture.
"Okay." He smiled. "Because to me, you're forever."
"To me you're forever too."
His face brightened instantly before he leaned in and kissed your cheek repeatedly.
"Jamal!" You laughed. "Shush, I'm making up for the emotional damage. I might need some Maultaschen too."
"You are such a baby."
"But I'm your baby."
"Unfortunately."
His mouth dropped open.
"Unfortunately?!" He grabbed a cushion, lightly smacking you with it. "Take it back!"
"Never!" You jumped from his lap and started running around the apartment, laughing as he immediately chased after you.
Eventually, he caught you and pulled you against him, wrapping his arms around you before you could escape.
"Say it." He put you in a playful headlock as he kissed your cheek. "You're my boyfriend." You giggled, trying to escape his grasp. "Not enough." You rolled your eyes. "My forever." He smiled. "Better." You kissed his cheek.
"Happy now, Bambi?" You teased. "Don't call me Bambi." He frowned. "Okay, Bambi." He groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Mmm, Bambi." You bit your lip just to annoy him.
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"I really don't."
ERLING HAALAND — You were filming an unboxing when you casually decided to point the camera toward Erling.
"And this is my current boyfriend, Erling."
"Current?" He immediately looked up. "Yeah." You nodded. "Who is the next one?" He raised an eyebrow at you. "It's a TikTok trend." You confessed. "I don't care."
He reached over and calmly took the phone from your hand, setting it face-down on the table.
"Hey!"
"No."
"No?" You looked at him, obviously confused. "None of that current bullshit." You were trying not to laugh. "Why are you so serious?" You asked. "Because you're my girlfriend."
"I'm quite aware." You smiled as you put back the stuff you had just filmed the unboxing for. "So why are you talking like you're replacing me?" He crossed his arms. "I'm not replacing you." You pecked his lips.
"Good." He pulled you closer by the waist with a firm but careful grip. "Possessive much?"You raised an eyebrow. "Any problems with that?"
As usual, Erling's bluntness made you laugh and he looked at you, completely unfazed.
"I don't like sharing." He spoke again.
"Sharing what?" You asked, untying his ponytail and running your hands through his long hair. "You." He rested his head on your chest.
You just stared at him.
"What?" He asked, now looking at you. "Nothing. You're just very territorial." You smiled. "Of course I am." He shrugged and pulled you closer, if it was even possible.
"That's not normal."
"Maybe." He leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly. "But you're mine." You laughed. "You're ridiculous." You rested the side of your face on his head. "And you're still my girlfriend."
"Currently?"
"Don't start."
You burst out laughing.
"Okay, okay!"
He picked the phone back up and handed it to you.
"Here you go. Now redo it."
"Why?"
"Say boyfriend."
"You're my boyfriend."
"Good."
"That's it?"
He looked satisfied.
"Yep."
MICHAEL OLISE — You and Michael were lying in bed, your bodies tangled comfortably together beneath the blankets while he scrolled through his phone and you scrolled through yours. The room was quiet and cozy, the two of you completely absorbed in your own little worlds. You had just watched a video of a girl pranking her boyfriend, so naturally, you thought, why not?
You started recording a story time to throw him off, casually talking to the camera while Michael remained completely oblivious beside you. After a while, you turned the camera toward him.
"But I'm finally back home with my current boyfriend, Michael. So everything is fine."
Michael didn't even look up. He simply continued scrolling.
"Michael?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you hear what I said?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
"I know this is one of your dumb pranks." He finally glanced at you, completely unfazed. "What makes you think that?" You tried not to laugh. "Because you're recording me." He flipped off the camera. "So?" He shrugged, returning his attention to his phone.
"You're trying to get a reaction."
"And if I am?"
Michael hummed, still scrolling.
"You're not getting one."
"Not even a little?" You pouted.
"No."
"So you don't care that I called you my current boyfriend?" You moved closer, resting your chin on his chest. "No." He looked down at you. "Why?" You whined. "Because I know you." He put his phone aside and pulled you closer, his arm settling securely around your waist. "And I know you're mine."
"That's it?" You blinked. "That's all you're getting from me." He gave you a small, knowing smirk. "You can call me a bitch for all I care, still doesn't change the fact you're mine."
You smiled.
"You're very confident."
"I know."
"You don't think I'll get another boyfriend?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"Try. Go ahead. He'll return you once he feels your cold-ass feet on his back in the middle of the night." He booped your nose, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"Michael!"
"Exactly." He smiled, pulling you against his chest. "You're so annoying." You shook your head, still laughing. "And you're still here." He fixed the blanket that was loosely wrapped around your waist, tucking it more securely around you.
"Unfortunately."
"Good."
"Now stop trying to prank me." He pressed a lazy kiss to your forehead before picking his phone back up. "He's no fun." You grinned at the camera.
Without looking away from his phone, Michael added,
˗ˏˋ synopsis ⨾ you and jude accidentally request the same karaoke song. Instead of fighting over the mic, you decide to sing it together—and accidentally fall for each other.
꒰ contents ꒱ fluff. strangers to lovers trope.
featuring .ᐟ⋆˙⟡ ― jude bellingham x fem!reader.
⋆˙⟡ author's note ⨾ ― love shrek so much i included it in a fic.
The karaoke bar had reached that stage of the night when nobody was entirely sure what was happening anymore, but everyone was having a blast anyway.
The lights strung across the ceiling flickered in shades of purple and blue, occasionally catching on the haze hanging over the room. Every few seconds, someone at one of the crowded tables would burst into laughter, loud enough to compete with whoever was currently massacring a song onstage.
Empty glasses were scattered across tables, while half-eaten baskets of fries and onion rings sat between abandoned jackets and purses. The faint smell of spilled beer seemed permanently embedded in the sticky floor. It was loud and messy and slightly ridiculous, but you loved it.
“Come on, girl,” your friend pleaded.
“No.” You didn’t even look up as you grabbed another fry and took a bite. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.” She glared at you. “No, but I know exactly what you’re going to ask.”
Your friend leaned across the table, resting her chin in her hand as she gave you the most obnoxiously hopeful expression she’d been practicing for the last half an hour.
“One song, please.”
“No.”
“One.”
“No.”
“You’ve been singing along to every song for the past hour.” She gave you an unimpressed look. “So? That’s not the same as voluntarily embarrassing myself onstage.”
“You sang the Shrek soundtrack in the car for twenty minutes.”
“That was a private concert, and it was Shrek,” you clarified. “That was you and me stuck in traffic.” She pointed between the two of you “Exactly. Private.”
She rolled her eyes as she reached for the karaoke request slips, making you look at her almost immediately.
“Don’t you dare,” you warned. “I’m not doing anything.” She smiled.“You have the face you make when you’re about to do something.” She rolled her eyes again, playfully this time. “I don’t have a face.”
“You absolutely have a face.” You groaned as she scribbled something down on the paper.
She saw what you were about to do, so before you could grab it, she folded it in half and handed it to the host. You stared at her in betrayal.
“To the best singer out there.” She raised her glass. “You’re the worst.” You raised yours too. “I love you too.”
You mumbled something under your breath and turned toward the bar, deciding the best way to deal with the situation was to pretend it hadn’t happened. Restroom? More drinks?
That lasted less than thirty seconds.
The karaoke host tapped the microphone.
“Okay! We’ve got a bit of an interesting one coming up.”
You barely paid attention. It didn’t concern you.
Or did it?
“Apparently, we’ve got two requests for the same song.”
Your head snapped up as your friend slowly turned toward you. Of course she couldn’t commit a crime without immediately exposing herself.
“What did you do?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at her. “I didn’t do anything.” She lifted her hands innocently. “You absolutely did something.” You pointed a finger at her accusingly. “I swear I didn't.” She pressed a hand to her chest.
The host laughed into the microphone.
“Both requests are for—”
He paused, glancing down at the slips in his hand.
Your jaw dropped as your friend immediately burst out laughing, nearly snorting her drink out of her nose.
“Oh my God.” She clutched her stomach, trying to catch her breath.“You—” You pointed at her again, your eyes narrowing. “I didn’t!” she insisted, holding up her hands defensively. “You did!”
Before you two could continue arguing, the host cleared his throat and continued.
“Now, here’s the problem. We’ve got two people who apparently really want to sing this one.” He laughed, glancing between the two request slips.
“Great! I’m not going up there.” You crossed your arms, sinking back into your seat. “You don’t have to.”
“Good.” You nodded, satisfied. “Because apparently, your competition is already going.” You froze.
“Competition?”
Slowly, you turned toward the stage.
Your friend pointed, and you followed her gaze.
And that’s when you saw him.
He was standing several feet away near another table, looking just as confused as you were.
You hadn’t spoken to him before tonight.
You had noticed him, though. In your defense, it was hard not to.
He’d been sitting with a group of friends near the opposite side of the room, occasionally throwing his head back as he laughed at something someone said, a drink loosely held in his right hand.
You’d caught yourself glancing in his direction a couple of times throughout the night, though you’d been careful to look away and pretend you hadn’t whenever anyone noticed.
And now, somehow, he was your competition.
For a second, neither of you moved.
“You?” He pointed at you, eyebrows raised. “Me?” You pointed at yourself, just as confused. He nodded toward the stage. “You requested it?” he asked, glancing between you and the karaoke host. “Apparently.” You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head.
His expression shifted somewhere between amusement and disbelief.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” You nodded as he glanced toward his friends, who were already laughing at him, before looking back at you. “I requested it too.”
“Clearly.” Something about his smile made you smile back without meaning to.
The host was still waiting, asking whether you were doing a duet or turning it into a karaoke showdown. The crowd cheered, and your stomach dropped.
The stranger looked at you then shrugged, a tiny smile appearing on his face.
“Fuck it?” He smiled.
“Fuck it.” You laughed.
He held out his hand, and you stared at it for half a second before taking it. His hand was warm—in a good way, not the sweaty kind of warm. That was your first thought. Your second was that you probably shouldn’t have noticed, and your third was that you should probably stop thinking about a stranger’s hand temperature.
“Come on,” he said, tugging your hand gently when you didn’t move.
You followed him toward the stage after snapping out of your little trance, trying very hard not to think about the fact that you were holding hands with a complete stranger in a karaoke bar.
Your friend was practically vibrating in her seat, like a puppy seeing its favorite treat.
You made a mental note to kill her later.
The stage was only a few steps away, but somehow, the walk felt much longer with half the room watching you.
The host handed one microphone to him and another to you.
“Ready?”
“No,” you said immediately. “Yes,” the stranger answered at the same time.
You turned toward him, and he flashed you a toothy smile.
Damn, those were some really nice teeth.
“You’re very confident for someone who just met me,” you pointed out.“And you’re very pessimistic for someone who voluntarily requested a song from Shrek. I feel like Donkey.” He wiggled his finger at you teasingly. “I did not voluntarily request it.” You gave him a look. “And you kind of look like him.”
“We’ll discuss this later. Now we need to shine.” He adjusted the microphone in his hand, looking far too pleased with himself.
He’s probably drunk, you thought.
The opening notes started and then you realized something.
“You do know all the words, right?” You looked up at him. “Do you?” He raised a brow at you. “Obviously,” you said in an obvious tone. “Good.”
The first verse began.
You both sang.
And somehow, it was actually good.
You turned toward him halfway through the first verse, expecting him to be laughing at you, but he was already looking at you.
For a second, neither of you looked away.
Then you both smiled.
Something warm settled in your chest. You ignored it.
By the chorus, you were both laughing, harmonizing, stealing lines from each other, and leaning closer whenever the music got louder.
At some point, he started dancing.
Not seriously—just little shoulder movements, completely ridiculous and completely unselfconscious, making you laugh into the microphone.
“What?” he asked. “You dance like my dad,” you giggled. His mouth fell open. “That’s offensive.” He glared at you. “You know I’m right.” You smiled. “I definitely do not dance like your dad, even though I’m sure he’s a cool lad,” he argued. “You absolutely do, and he is.”
He shook his head, laughing.
Then the chorus came around again, and you both sang it at the same time. When you looked at him, smiling beneath the ridiculous purple lights, something in your stomach flipped.
Oh no.
You knew that look. You knew that feeling. You were developing a crush. On a stranger. During Accidentally in Love. You nearly laughed at the sheer absurdity of it. The song ended to a surprisingly enthusiastic round of applause, and you lowered your microphone, slightly breathless but not nervous anymore.
“That was…” You glanced at him. “Yeah.” He looked down at you. “Fun,” you finished. “Very.”
Neither of you moved, making the host clear his throat.
“Jude, by the way.” He held out his hand. You introduced yourself and shook it, suddenly very aware of the warmth of his hand in yours, again.
“Should I just leave you two up here for the next song?”
The audience laughed, making you take a step back from the microphone. The stranger laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Sorry.”
You handed the microphone back, still smiling.
As you stepped off the stage, your friend was waiting for you with the most unbearable expression you had ever seen.
“Don’t.” You warned. “I didn’t say anything.” She laughed. “But you're thinking it.” You fixed your shirt. “I’m thinking a lot of things.” She teased. “Stop.”
“So, who is he?” She asked. “Jude.”
“You sang Accidentally in Love with ridiculously attractive Jude, and you’re smiling.” She sung. “I am not.” You groaned. “You absolutely are.”
You tried to wipe the smile from your face.
It didn’t work. Across the room, Jude was back at his table, his friends teasing him as he glanced your way every few seconds. Eventually, he caught your eye and smiled. You smiled back just as your friend slowly leaned toward you.
“Oh, you’re fucked.”
You laughed.
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
You glanced back at him one more time. He was still looking at you.
Maybe it was the alcohol, the music, or the ridiculous coincidence of requesting the exact same song at the exact same time. But when he raised his glass toward you from across the room, you raised yours in return.
You didn’t even know if you’d ever see him again. But somehow, you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time you accidentally fell into something you hadn’t been looking for.
A few minutes later, your friend was still giving you that knowing look.
“Stop.” You warned, again. “I’m not doing anything.” She took a sip of her drink. “You’re thinking, again.” You took a sip of yours. “I’m always thinking.”
Before she could respond, someone stopped beside your table, making both of you look up.
Jude.
“Hey,” he said, smiling.
Your friend immediately stood. “I’m getting another drink.”
“You still have one.” You looked at her. “I know.” She disappeared before you could stop her.
“She’s subtle.” Jude laughed. “Not even a little.” You rolled your eyes playfully.
He gestured toward the empty seat. “Mind if I sit?”
You smiled. “Only if you promise not to dance like my dad.”
“No promises.”
You laughed, shaking your head as he settled into the seat across from you. Neither of you knew it yet, but that silly karaoke duet would become the beginning of something neither of you had been looking for.
And three years later, Accidentally in Love would be the song you walked into your wedding reception to.
You’d laugh about it then—about how ridiculous it was that the first time you ever sang together, neither of you even knew the other’s name.
About how your friend had spent the rest of the ride home and the rest of the night insisting you were “obviously going to marry him,” only for you to tell her she was being dramatic.
She would remind you of that every chance she got—especially now.
Because as the opening notes of Accidentally in Love began playing through the speakers at your wedding reception, you could already hear her laughing and crying behind you.
You stood at the entrance beside Jude, your fingers intertwined with his.
Three years.
Three years since that karaoke bar, a badly timed request slip, and a song from Shrek had somehow changed everything.
“You ready?” Jude glanced down at you.
“Fuck it?” You smiled.
“Fuck it.” His grin widened.
The doors opened, and the room erupted into cheers and applause.
Together, hand in hand, you walked into your wedding reception to the exact song you had accidentally requested on the night you’d accidentally met the love of your life—and accidentally fallen in love.
˗ˏˋ synopsis ⨾ you and jude accidentally request the same karaoke song. Instead of fighting over the mic, you decide to sing it together—and accidentally fall for each other.
꒰ contents ꒱ fluff. strangers to lovers trope.
featuring .ᐟ⋆˙⟡ ― jude bellingham x fem!reader.
⋆˙⟡ author's note ⨾ ― love shrek so much i included it in a fic.
The karaoke bar had reached that stage of the night when nobody was entirely sure what was happening anymore, but everyone was having a blast anyway.
The lights strung across the ceiling flickered in shades of purple and blue, occasionally catching on the haze hanging over the room. Every few seconds, someone at one of the crowded tables would burst into laughter, loud enough to compete with whoever was currently massacring a song onstage.
Empty glasses were scattered across tables, while half-eaten baskets of fries and onion rings sat between abandoned jackets and purses. The faint smell of spilled beer seemed permanently embedded in the sticky floor. It was loud and messy and slightly ridiculous, but you loved it.
“Come on, girl,” your friend pleaded.
“No.” You didn’t even look up as you grabbed another fry and took a bite. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.” She glared at you. “No, but I know exactly what you’re going to ask.”
Your friend leaned across the table, resting her chin in her hand as she gave you the most obnoxiously hopeful expression she’d been practicing for the last half an hour.
“One song, please.”
“No.”
“One.”
“No.”
“You’ve been singing along to every song for the past hour.” She gave you an unimpressed look. “So? That’s not the same as voluntarily embarrassing myself onstage.”
“You sang the Shrek soundtrack in the car for twenty minutes.”
“That was a private concert, and it was Shrek,” you clarified. “That was you and me stuck in traffic.” She pointed between the two of you “Exactly. Private.”
She rolled her eyes as she reached for the karaoke request slips, making you look at her almost immediately.
“Don’t you dare,” you warned. “I’m not doing anything.” She smiled.“You have the face you make when you’re about to do something.” She rolled her eyes again, playfully this time. “I don’t have a face.”
“You absolutely have a face.” You groaned as she scribbled something down on the paper.
She saw what you were about to do, so before you could grab it, she folded it in half and handed it to the host. You stared at her in betrayal.
“To the best singer out there.” She raised her glass. “You’re the worst.” You raised yours too. “I love you too.”
You mumbled something under your breath and turned toward the bar, deciding the best way to deal with the situation was to pretend it hadn’t happened. Restroom? More drinks?
That lasted less than thirty seconds.
The karaoke host tapped the microphone.
“Okay! We’ve got a bit of an interesting one coming up.”
You barely paid attention. It didn’t concern you.
Or did it?
“Apparently, we’ve got two requests for the same song.”
Your head snapped up as your friend slowly turned toward you. Of course she couldn’t commit a crime without immediately exposing herself.
“What did you do?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at her. “I didn’t do anything.” She lifted her hands innocently. “You absolutely did something.” You pointed a finger at her accusingly. “I swear I didn't.” She pressed a hand to her chest.
The host laughed into the microphone.
“Both requests are for—”
He paused, glancing down at the slips in his hand.
Your jaw dropped as your friend immediately burst out laughing, nearly snorting her drink out of her nose.
“Oh my God.” She clutched her stomach, trying to catch her breath.“You—” You pointed at her again, your eyes narrowing. “I didn’t!” she insisted, holding up her hands defensively. “You did!”
Before you two could continue arguing, the host cleared his throat and continued.
“Now, here’s the problem. We’ve got two people who apparently really want to sing this one.” He laughed, glancing between the two request slips.
“Great! I’m not going up there.” You crossed your arms, sinking back into your seat. “You don’t have to.”
“Good.” You nodded, satisfied. “Because apparently, your competition is already going.” You froze.
“Competition?”
Slowly, you turned toward the stage.
Your friend pointed, and you followed her gaze.
And that’s when you saw him.
He was standing several feet away near another table, looking just as confused as you were.
You hadn’t spoken to him before tonight.
You had noticed him, though. In your defense, it was hard not to.
He’d been sitting with a group of friends near the opposite side of the room, occasionally throwing his head back as he laughed at something someone said, a drink loosely held in his right hand.
You’d caught yourself glancing in his direction a couple of times throughout the night, though you’d been careful to look away and pretend you hadn’t whenever anyone noticed.
And now, somehow, he was your competition.
For a second, neither of you moved.
“You?” He pointed at you, eyebrows raised. “Me?” You pointed at yourself, just as confused. He nodded toward the stage. “You requested it?” he asked, glancing between you and the karaoke host. “Apparently.” You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head.
His expression shifted somewhere between amusement and disbelief.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” You nodded as he glanced toward his friends, who were already laughing at him, before looking back at you. “I requested it too.”
“Clearly.” Something about his smile made you smile back without meaning to.
The host was still waiting, asking whether you were doing a duet or turning it into a karaoke showdown. The crowd cheered, and your stomach dropped.
The stranger looked at you then shrugged, a tiny smile appearing on his face.
“Fuck it?” He smiled.
“Fuck it.” You laughed.
He held out his hand, and you stared at it for half a second before taking it. His hand was warm—in a good way, not the sweaty kind of warm. That was your first thought. Your second was that you probably shouldn’t have noticed, and your third was that you should probably stop thinking about a stranger’s hand temperature.
“Come on,” he said, tugging your hand gently when you didn’t move.
You followed him toward the stage after snapping out of your little trance, trying very hard not to think about the fact that you were holding hands with a complete stranger in a karaoke bar.
Your friend was practically vibrating in her seat, like a puppy seeing its favorite treat.
You made a mental note to kill her later.
The stage was only a few steps away, but somehow, the walk felt much longer with half the room watching you.
The host handed one microphone to him and another to you.
“Ready?”
“No,” you said immediately. “Yes,” the stranger answered at the same time.
You turned toward him, and he flashed you a toothy smile.
Damn, those were some really nice teeth.
“You’re very confident for someone who just met me,” you pointed out.“And you’re very pessimistic for someone who voluntarily requested a song from Shrek. I feel like Donkey.” He wiggled his finger at you teasingly. “I did not voluntarily request it.” You gave him a look. “And you kind of look like him.”
“We’ll discuss this later. Now we need to shine.” He adjusted the microphone in his hand, looking far too pleased with himself.
He’s probably drunk, you thought.
The opening notes started and then you realized something.
“You do know all the words, right?” You looked up at him. “Do you?” He raised a brow at you. “Obviously,” you said in an obvious tone. “Good.”
The first verse began.
You both sang.
And somehow, it was actually good.
You turned toward him halfway through the first verse, expecting him to be laughing at you, but he was already looking at you.
For a second, neither of you looked away.
Then you both smiled.
Something warm settled in your chest. You ignored it.
By the chorus, you were both laughing, harmonizing, stealing lines from each other, and leaning closer whenever the music got louder.
At some point, he started dancing.
Not seriously—just little shoulder movements, completely ridiculous and completely unselfconscious, making you laugh into the microphone.
“What?” he asked. “You dance like my dad,” you giggled. His mouth fell open. “That’s offensive.” He glared at you. “You know I’m right.” You smiled. “I definitely do not dance like your dad, even though I’m sure he’s a cool lad,” he argued. “You absolutely do, and he is.”
He shook his head, laughing.
Then the chorus came around again, and you both sang it at the same time. When you looked at him, smiling beneath the ridiculous purple lights, something in your stomach flipped.
Oh no.
You knew that look. You knew that feeling. You were developing a crush. On a stranger. During Accidentally in Love. You nearly laughed at the sheer absurdity of it. The song ended to a surprisingly enthusiastic round of applause, and you lowered your microphone, slightly breathless but not nervous anymore.
“That was…” You glanced at him. “Yeah.” He looked down at you. “Fun,” you finished. “Very.”
Neither of you moved, making the host clear his throat.
“Jude, by the way.” He held out his hand. You introduced yourself and shook it, suddenly very aware of the warmth of his hand in yours, again.
“Should I just leave you two up here for the next song?”
The audience laughed, making you take a step back from the microphone. The stranger laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Sorry.”
You handed the microphone back, still smiling.
As you stepped off the stage, your friend was waiting for you with the most unbearable expression you had ever seen.
“Don’t.” You warned. “I didn’t say anything.” She laughed. “But you're thinking it.” You fixed your shirt. “I’m thinking a lot of things.” She teased. “Stop.”
“So, who is he?” She asked. “Jude.”
“You sang Accidentally in Love with ridiculously attractive Jude, and you’re smiling.” She sung. “I am not.” You groaned. “You absolutely are.”
You tried to wipe the smile from your face.
It didn’t work. Across the room, Jude was back at his table, his friends teasing him as he glanced your way every few seconds. Eventually, he caught your eye and smiled. You smiled back just as your friend slowly leaned toward you.
“Oh, you’re fucked.”
You laughed.
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
You glanced back at him one more time. He was still looking at you.
Maybe it was the alcohol, the music, or the ridiculous coincidence of requesting the exact same song at the exact same time. But when he raised his glass toward you from across the room, you raised yours in return.
You didn’t even know if you’d ever see him again. But somehow, you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time you accidentally fell into something you hadn’t been looking for.
A few minutes later, your friend was still giving you that knowing look.
“Stop.” You warned, again. “I’m not doing anything.” She took a sip of her drink. “You’re thinking, again.” You took a sip of yours. “I’m always thinking.”
Before she could respond, someone stopped beside your table, making both of you look up.
Jude.
“Hey,” he said, smiling.
Your friend immediately stood. “I’m getting another drink.”
“You still have one.” You looked at her. “I know.” She disappeared before you could stop her.
“She’s subtle.” Jude laughed. “Not even a little.” You rolled your eyes playfully.
He gestured toward the empty seat. “Mind if I sit?”
You smiled. “Only if you promise not to dance like my dad.”
“No promises.”
You laughed, shaking your head as he settled into the seat across from you. Neither of you knew it yet, but that silly karaoke duet would become the beginning of something neither of you had been looking for.
And three years later, Accidentally in Love would be the song you walked into your wedding reception to.
You’d laugh about it then—about how ridiculous it was that the first time you ever sang together, neither of you even knew the other’s name.
About how your friend had spent the rest of the ride home and the rest of the night insisting you were “obviously going to marry him,” only for you to tell her she was being dramatic.
She would remind you of that every chance she got—especially now.
Because as the opening notes of Accidentally in Love began playing through the speakers at your wedding reception, you could already hear her laughing and crying behind you.
You stood at the entrance beside Jude, your fingers intertwined with his.
Three years.
Three years since that karaoke bar, a badly timed request slip, and a song from Shrek had somehow changed everything.
“You ready?” Jude glanced down at you.
“Fuck it?” You smiled.
“Fuck it.” His grin widened.
The doors opened, and the room erupted into cheers and applause.
Together, hand in hand, you walked into your wedding reception to the exact song you had accidentally requested on the night you’d accidentally met the love of your life—and accidentally fallen in love.
I would like to request a Marlon fic where he has always been known to be quiet, smiling, and happy. But that all shatters when he goes on an interview and the host starts to talk negatively about reader who is nothing but a sweet, shy, caring soul. And maybe she could be plus size?
THE "QUIET" ONE
⋆˙⟡ featuring⋆˙⟡ ― marlon jackson x gf!reader
꒰ contents ꒱ marlon is known for being quiet, until someone messes with you.
⋆˙⟡ author's note⋆˙⟡ ― gotta love a man that stands up for his girl.
Marlon had always been known for being quiet and put-together, despite his chaotic personality.
Not awkwardly quiet or cold, just naturally soft-spoken, content to sit back with that familiar little smile while everyone else talked. He laughed easily, listened carefully, and rarely had anything unkind to say about anyone.
It was part of his charm and people loved that about him.
So when his smile disappeared during the interview, everyone noticed.
It had started with a question about you.
Marlon was used to people asking about his relationship, so nothing seemed too crazy at first. He always answered with that same fond smile, never giving too much away. You were private by nature, and the two of you made a point of keeping your relationship as private as possible, if only to keep the public eye at bay.
You were shy and sweet—the kind of person who would rather stay tucked into the corner of a room than have twenty pairs of eyes on you. You were perfectly happy just being there, quietly supporting your man.
The host seemed to know that, and yet she kept pushing.
At first, it was subtle comments about how different the two of you looked together. Then came the remarks about your size, disguised as fake concern and punctuated by little laughs.
Marlon’s smile slowly faded as he shifted in his seat. He was uncomfortable, but he told himself to give the interviewer a chance to redeem herself.
She didn’t.
She “wondered” whether he ever worried about how people perceived the two of you, or whether he ever thought about what he could have if he weren’t with you.
Then came the words that made Marlon’s expression go completely blank.
"You could do better, don't you think?"
For a few seconds, he said nothing.
Marlon looked down at his hands, his fingers tightening together before he finally lifted his eyes again.
“Better than her?” There was no smile now.
The host tried to laugh.
“You know what I mean.” She tried to play it cool, glancing toward the audience for some validation, but no one gave her any.
“No,” Marlon said simply. “I really don’t.”
His tone remained calm, but there was something underneath it now—something firm, restrained, and angry.
Because they didn’t know you.
They didn’t know the woman who always remembered the little things about him. The woman who made sure his suitcase was packed properly and that he had enough toiletries for every trip. The woman who still got shy whenever he complimented her, hiding her face against his chest because, no matter how many times he told her, she still couldn’t quite believe he genuinely thought she was beautiful.
And they definitely didn't know how often you had stood in front of the mirror wondering if you looked too big beside him. They didn't know how many times you had quietly asked him if he was sure he wanted you.
Marlon knew. He knew every insecurity you tried to hide from him, every little thing you worried about but rarely said aloud. That was why this interview was bothering him as much as it was. He knew exactly where her words were landing, and he hated the thought of you hearing them and wondering, even for a second, if Marlon saw you the way the interviewer did despite him saying he did not.
“She is one of the kindest and sweetest people I've ever met,” he said, staring at her dead in the eye. “And you sitting here talking about her like she's something I should be embarrassed about...”
He shook his head.
“I don’t understand that. And the fact that you’re trying to hurt someone who has done absolutely nothing to you makes you disgusting.”
“How would you feel if it were you?” Marlon leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Actually, don’t answer that, because I don’t care.”
The host swallowed hard.
“I don’t care what she looks like to you.” His eyes remained fixed on hers. “I care what she means to me.”
The audience erupted, breaking into applause. Some even stood to show their respect for the way he had defended his woman.
After that, Marlon refused to entertain another question about you.
You didn't find out about the whole thing until later.
By the time Marlon came home that evening, the interview was already being replayed on tv across the country, the conversation definitely going to be the headline of the day tomorrow.
You knew nothing about it.
You were curled up on the sofa in one of Marlon’s oversized sweaters, a blanket tucked around your legs as an old movie played quietly in the background.
The front door opened, and you lifted your head from the armrest.
“There you are.” You gave your boyfriend a sleepy smile.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Marlon closed the door behind him, his expression softening the moment he saw you.
Usually, he would have dropped onto the sofa beside you with a grin, probably stealing half the blanket in the process. Tonight, though, he remained by the door for a moment, his keys still in his hand as he seemed to search for the right words.
“What happened?” You watched him carefully.
“Nothing.” He shook his head quickly, setting his keys down on the table. “Marlon.” You pushed yourself upright as you frowned at him. “I know you better than that.”
He sighed, then sat beside you and took your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles.
“They asked about you in the interview.” Your stomach dropped. “What did they say?”
He told you enough.
Enough for you to understand where the host was coming from. Enough to understand the comments about your body, about how different the two of you looked beside each other, and about how people thought he could find someone who suited him better.
You stared down at your lap, your fingers quietly playing with the edge of the blanket.
Then, unexpectedly, a small, embarrassed laugh slipped from your lips.
“I suppose they weren’t completely wrong.” You shrugged, though your fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket. “I mean… you could have someone who looks, you know, better.”
“Don’t.” His voice was gentle but firm. “Don’t you dare talk like that about yourself.”
“I just mean—” Your eyes dropped to your lap again.
“I know what you mean, and you’re wrong.” Marlon crouched in front of you, gently lifting your chin until your eyes met his. “You really think I don’t notice how beautiful you are?”
“Marlon…” You smiled softly.
“I’ve never looked at you and wished you were different.” His hand settled against your cheek, his thumb gently brushing your skin. “I fell in love with you.”
A tear slipped down your cheek, and he quickly wiped it away with his thumb.
“Your body isn’t something I tolerate or something I want you to change. I love you exactly as you are.”
“You got really angry.”
“I did.”
“You never get angry.”
“I do when people are cruel to you.” A faint smile tugged at his lips.
Your eyes filled with tears again, and this time, you leaned into his chest without saying anything. Marlon immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close before reaching for the blanket and draping it over both of you.
He rested his head against yours, his hand moving slowly up and down your back.
For a while, neither of you said anything and just stared at each other. You stayed in his arms, enjoying the embrace as you listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing as the old movie continued playing softly in the background.
The quiet, smiling man everyone knew had finally found something worth breaking his silence for. And after that, everyone knew better than to ever cross him like that again.
And in his arms, you finally let yourself believe that you were safe, cherished, and loved exactly as you were.
Can you do something with Musiala, where reader makes him "Maultaschen" (I think the English word is filled pasta cases???) because he loves them so much and talks about them everywhere? 😭😂 Could be normal fic or text
MAULTASCHEN
⋆˙⟡ featuring⋆˙⟡ ― jamal musiala x gf!reader
꒰ contents ꒱ you give jamal a double surprise.
⋆˙⟡ author's note⋆˙⟡ ― if y'all want more context, watch this video from 6:29 (or the whole thing bc it's jamal)
You weren’t supposed to be home until Sunday evening.
That was the plan, anyway.
A few days away with the girls, somewhere warm and pretty and far enough from the Munich cold that you could forget about laundry and work. You’d told Jamal not to miss you too much, kissed him goodbye at the airport, and promised you’d call him every night—all while he pouted.
And you had, most of the time.
But sometime around the third night, while you were lying alone in a hotel bed and your friends were downstairs at the bar, having fun and getting hit on by men, you realized just how much you missed your Jamal.
And, perhaps most importantly, because you’d had an idea.
Not in a dramatic way. Just in a I wish he were here kind of way.
You missed waking up to his soft snores in the morning, or the way he’d steal the duvet and somehow end up curled against you anyway. You missed the simple things, too—like the way he would wander into whatever room you were in, just because he wanted to be near you.
You missed him enough that, by breakfast the next morning, you had quietly changed your flight.
Because you missed your boyfriend and because there was a horrible storm coming.
It was a stupid but brilliant idea. The kind of idea that made you think, Jamal-is-going-to-lose-his-mind-over-this.
You were going to make Maultaschen.
His beloved Maultaschen.
You’d heard about Maultaschen so many times that you were beginning to suspect your boyfriend had been personally sponsored by them—and that, one day, you might actually be replaced by a plate of them.
“Maultaschen are seriously underrated.”
“I could eat Maultaschen every day.”
“They’re the perfect meal and snack.”
“Can I eat Maultaschen off you?”
So, when you got home on Saturday afternoon, you didn’t text him. Instead, you slipped into your shared apartment as quietly as possible, left your suitcase in the bedroom, changed into one of Jamal’s shirts and a pair of comfortable shorts, and immediately started cooking.
Or, more accurately, started attempting to cook.
Because apparently, making Maultaschen from scratch was considerably more difficult than Jamal’s enthusiastic descriptions had led you to believe.
Eventually, though, you got the hang of it.
They weren’t perfect, but they were yours, and you were proud of your work. Especially because you knew exactly how excited your Maultaschen-obsessed boyfriend was going to be.
You even made the broth. At this point, you felt like a proper chef because, somehow, everything was genuinely delicious.
When you were finally finished, you stood in the kitchen with your arms crossed, staring proudly at your work.
You’d done it. You’d actually done it.
You’d made Jamal Maultaschen. From scratch.
You were still smiling at your creation when you heard the front door open, making your heart jump.
“Schatz?”
He was home early. Bastard.
You quickly wiped the flour from your cheek and rounded the kitchen island just as Jamal appeared in the doorway.
He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening.
“You’re home?”
“Surprise.” You grinned.
He didn’t give you a chance to say anything else. He pulled you into his arms, hugging you as close to him as humanly possible.
“You’re home,” he repeated, burying his face against your neck. “I missed you.” You wrapped your arms around his torso. “I missed you more.” “I missed you more,” he mumbled against your neck. “You don’t know that.” You giggled. “I do.”
“You were supposed to be gone until tomorrow.” He squeezed you tighter, swaying you from side to side in excitement. “I know.” You kissed his cheek.
“Why did you come back?” He pulled away just enough to look down at you. “Because I missed you.” You smiled, making his expression soften.“Really?”
You nodded.
"Good, because I missed you too."
He was about to kiss you properly when his nose wrinkled.
He sniffed.
“What?” You looked at him. “What is that?” He sniffed again. “Nothing,” you said. “That’s definitely not nothing.” He sassed. “Jamal.” You poked his chest. “You’re cooking.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Maybe.”
He looked past you, then back at you, then past you again, his mouth falling wide open in the process.
“No.”
You tried not to laugh.
“Yes.”
“Are those—”
“Maultaschen.” You nodded.
"But I ran out of them yesterday..." He said before realization hit him.
There was a beat of silence.
“YOU MADE MAULTASCHEN?” Jamal practically yelled as he jumped. “Shhh!” You burst out laughing, quickly bringing a finger to your lips.“YOU MADE THEM?” His eyes widened as he pointed toward the kitchen. “Yes.”
“FOR ME?” He placed a hand dramatically against his chest, looking genuinely stunned. “No, for the neighbor.” You rolled your eyes playfully.
He ignored you completely, already making his way into the kitchen.
“You made them from scratch?” He stopped beside the pot and stared down at it, almost afraid to believe what he was seeing. “I tried.” You smiled, following him into the kitchen.
His face lit up as he looked over the little squares of pasta, still steaming in the broth.
“Baby, these look amazing.” He glanced back at you, his grin growing wider.
“They’re a little—”
“No.” He cut you off, pointing at you with deadly seriousness. “Don’t insult them.”
You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh.
He turned back to the pot, closing his eyes as he leaned in and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the masterpiece you had just blessed him with.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, looking utterly delighted. “Best girlfriend ever.”
He pulled you in for a kiss.
“You haven’t even tasted them.” You laughed. “I already know they’re good.” He pointed at the Maultaschen. “You’re biased.” You leaned your head against his shoulder.
“I’m in love.” He stated it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “With Maultaschen?” You teased. “With you.”
He pressed another kiss to your lips and looked at you, with pure excitement in his Bambi eyes.
"Can I eat them now?"
“Please do.” You laughed.
He practically bounced his way to the table.
The moment you set the steaming bowl in front of him, he clasped his hands together, looking ridiculously pleased.
“Thank you, pretty girl.”
“You’re welcome.” You kissed his cheek and set the spoon down beside the bowl, only for Jamal to snatch it up before it even touched the table.
He took one bite then stopped. His eyes widened slightly as he looked up at you, chewing slowly.
“Well?”
He swallowed, set his spoon down, and reached across the table for your hand.
"I could marry you right now. In fact, I could get you pregnant right now."
“Jamal, you’ve eaten one.” You burst out laughing. “I’m serious!” he whined, already reaching for another. “Best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“I cook for you all the time.” Your thumb drew circles on the back of his hand. “But this,” he said, taking another bite, “this might be the best thing you’ve ever cooked for me.”
You shook your head, smiling as he squeezed your fingers.
“I missed you.” His expression softened. “I missed you too.”
Then he looked down at his bowl.
“Do we have leftovers?” “Maybe.” “Good.” He immediately started eating faster.
“Jamal.” “What?” “You’re going to choke.” He grinned around another bite. “Worth it.”
could you write something about childhood bestfriends jobe and reader and they start secretly dating and get caught by jude who teases them about it afterwards? love love love your work btw🩵
THERE WAS NEVER a time in your life when Jobe wasn’t included.
He was there when you lost your first tooth, when the asshole you were playing against kicked the football straight into your face, leaving you in tears, and when you cried over a boy in secondary school who absolutely wasn’t worth your tears or time.
He was the person your mom called when she couldn’t find you, because somehow, she always knew you were with him.
Childhood best friends—that was what everyone called you. And for years, you let them, because it wasn’t a lie.
But that stopped being the truth on a random summer night when Jobe realized that the way he felt about you wasn’t just friendship anymore, as he held you against his chest while the two of you watched the sunset.
So, you started dating in secret.
It wasn’t even intentional at first. It started with little things—a goodbye kiss that lasted a little too long, his fingers brushing against yours beneath the table, or sneaking into each other’s rooms during family gatherings just to cuddle, always on the lookout for an intruder.
Eventually, the “best friends” propaganda became your cover story. And, to be honest, you were terrible at it. Not nearly as terrible as Jobe, though.
“You’re staring again,” you whispered one evening.
You were having one of your usual movie nights, but tonight was different. Jude had joined the two of you, which meant you had to be extra careful not to let your little secret slip.
“I’m not.” Jobe glanced over at you from where he was sitting beside you on the sofa. “You are,” you whispered-yelled.
“I’m literally looking at the TV.”
“I don’t think you know what a TV looks like, then.”
He smiled, shifting closer until your shoulders touched. “Maybe you’re distracting me.”
Before you could respond, he ducked his head and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.
Neither of you noticed Jude standing in the doorway.
At least, not until—
“Awww.”
The two of you froze.
You both looked up to find Jude leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded as he smirked.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” he said. “Carry on.” He shooed you with his hand, clearly enjoying every second of your embarrassment.
“What?” Jude grinned. “I’m just surprised. Thought you two were best friends.”
You could feel your face burning, to the point where you felt nauseous.
“We are.” Jobe looked at his brother with a completely deadpan expression. “Mhm.” Jude smiled, clearly unconvinced. “We are,” you added. “Of course you are.”
Jude disappeared into the kitchen, laughing, before Jobe could throw a pillow at him. When he returned with more popcorn, he dropped himself between the two of you.
“Hope you don’t mind.” Jude smiled innocently.
“Not at all.” You grabbed a handful of popcorn, completely ignoring the daggers Jobe was throwing at his older brother.
The next morning, Jude was somehow even more insufferable.
“Morning, lovebirds.”
“Jude.” Jobe shot him a warning look.
“My bad. Morning, best friends.” He sung.
You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Jobe glared at his brother. He simply shook his head, trying—and failing—not to smile.
Jude pointed between the two of you. “Honestly, I knew something was going on. You’ve been looking at each other like that since she grew boobs and you got tall.”
You and Jobe exchanged a look, which only made Jude burst out laughing again.
“Oh, come on! At least pretend I’m wrong.”
“You’re never letting this go, are you?” Jobe groaned.
“Absolutely not.”
Jude paused, a grin spreading across his face.
“Although,” he added, “I am slightly—extremely—offended that you kept this from me for so long. I literally tell Mom all the time how cute your babies would be.”
“Jude, what the hell?” you groaned.
“Do you approve, though?” Jobe asked, chuckling.
“I suppose.” Jude shrugged. “But if I catch you two being disgustingly cute again, I’m telling everyone before you have a chance to make your not-so-surprising surprise.”
Jobe groaned, and you leaned your head against his shoulder.
Under the table, safely out of Jude’s view, Jobe quietly reached for your hand and laced his fingers with yours.
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
yousharknotpass