Football Preferences - dating them💕⚽️
a/n: a little surprise! i usually don’t write for real people, but i happily make an exception for my fav football boys♡ would definetly be open to write for more, you can suggest some if you like♡ i put a lot of thought, sweat and tears into this to capture them as best as possible, so i hope you enjoy the reading journey my loves♡♡
Kylian Mbappe, Jude Bellingham, Jamal Musiala, Michael Olise
𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒♡
𐙚⋆˖Kylian loves the way you bring normality into his life. His world is constantly moving: stadiums full of noise, cameras waiting for the next headline, thousands of people watching every step he takes. There is always something expected of him, always another performance, another goal, another reason for him to prove himself. But with you, he doesn’t have to be the footballer everyone knows. He doesn’t have to be the name on the back of a shirt or the person everyone wants something from. He gets to simply be your Kylian.
𐙚⋆˖he jokes that you're his lucky charm so often that eventually everyone around him starts believing it too. Before every match he kisses you, tells you not to go anywhere, and reminds you that he expects to see you in exactly the same seat afterwards because "it's clearly working." You roll your eyes every single time, insisting he doesn't need luck because he's ridiculously talented, but he only grins. "Maybe." "Maybe?" "Or maybe i just play better when i know you're watching."
𐙚⋆˖he absolutely melts whenever you play with his hair. It starts with your fingers absentmindedly brushing through it while the two of you are sitting together, and within minutes he's leaning into your touch like a puppy without even realizing it. He'll never admit how much he enjoys it, but the way his eyes slowly flutter shut gives him away every single time.
𐙚⋆˖Kylian kisses you like he's memorizing you. One hand always seems to find your face first, gently cupping your cheek while his thumb brushes slow, absentminded circles over your skin. It's never something he appears to think about; his body simply reaches for you before his lips do. Whether he's leaving for training at six in the morning or finally coming home after a long away match, every kiss carries the same tenderness. He never rushes them; he'll linger for one heartbeat longer than necessary, forehead resting against yours, his eyes still closed for a second as though he isn't quite ready to let the moment end.
𐙚⋆˖he never rushes past goodbye kisses either, no matter how busy he is. Even if he's already running late, he'll double back after reaching the door because he suddenly decides the first kiss wasn't enough. "What?" you'll ask, trying not to laugh. "That one didn't count." "Kylian, you literally just kissed me." "I know." He'll shrug, completely serious. "But i need one more." And somehow, that is always his excuse. The first kiss was too quick. The angle was wrong. He wasn't properly saying goodbye. Eventually, you stop questioning it and simply smile whenever you hear his footsteps coming back down the hallway, because you know he has decided one more kiss is worth being a few minutes late. "Better?" you'll tease afterward. "Much better, ma chérie." Sometimes you'll laugh softly and say, "you're going to be late, you know." He only smiles without moving very far away. "One more second." As if sixty seconds with you could somehow make up for the hours you're about to spend apart. Eventually he'll pull back just enough to look at you properly, a smile already tugging at the corners of his mouth before he whispers, "à tout à l'heure, ma chérie," and steals one last kiss anyway. It's impossible for Kylian to say goodbye after only one kiss. There is always another waiting, almost as though every time he leaves, a part of him wants to make sure he remembers exactly what coming home feels like.
𐙚⋆˖Kylian's love language is time. Real time. The kind where phones stay forgotten on the coffee table and the outside world quietly disappears for a few hours. His life is built around schedules that rarely belong to him, so whenever he finally has an evening with nothing demanding his attention, he guards it fiercely; messages can wait until tomorrow, interviews can wait until tomorrow. The world has already had enough of him for one day. Tonight belongs to you. Maybe you're watching a film you've both seen a dozen times, maybe you're cooking something that ends up slightly burnt because neither of you is paying attention. Halfway through he'll glance at his phone when it buzzes, only to flip it back over without even checking who it is. "Aren't you going to answer that?" you'll ask. He only shake his head, reaching for your hand instead. "It can wait." It never really matters what you're doing; being able to exist beside you without anyone asking something of him feels like a luxury he'll never take for granted. In a life where so much of his time already belongs to other people, he protects the hours that belong to you like they're the most valuable thing he has.
𐙚⋆˖success never impresses him as much as kindness does. He's met people with endless talent, endless money, endless influence, but the moments that stay with him are much simpler. The way you thank waiters by name. The way you stop to pet every dog that wanders over. The way you instinctively move so someone else has more room on the pavement. You'll apologize for taking too long because you stopped to help a little kid tie their shoelace, and he'll just watch you with the softest expression, wondering how someone can make kindness look so effortless.
𐙚⋆˖Kylian's ridiculously competitive over the smallest, most insignificant things; it's just in the man's nature. A harmless board game somehow turns into the final of the champions league. Mario Kart is no longer a game - it's a matter of pride. He insists he's calm about losing right up until you beat him for the third time in a row, at which point he leans back in complete disbelief, staring at the screen as though it's personally betrayed him. Suddenly the controller is "acting weird," the game is "definitely lagging," and obviously you just got lucky. You spend the next ten minutes laughing at his increasingly dramatic excuses before agreeing to one last rematch. He wins, celebrates like he's lifted another trophy, and somehow convinces himself the score is officially even.
𐙚⋆˖he isn't very good at asking for reassurance. He's so used to being the one people expect confidence from that admitting he's having an off day feels strangely unnatural. Instead, he's quieter than usual; he'll drift into whatever room you're in without really saying why. If you're making coffee, suddenly he's leaning against the kitchen counter watching you. If you're reading on the sofa, he'll quietly stretch out beside you until one of his legs is resting against yours. He jusz keeps finding little excuses to touch you; a hand brushing across your back as he walks past, his fingers absentmindedly lacing with yours, his forehead resting against your shoulder for a second longer than usual. It's never until much later that you realize he wasn't comforting you at all - he was looking for comfort himself without ever having to say the words out loud. So you simply thread your fingers through his hair, kiss his forehead, and remind him that he never has to earn being loved by you.
𐙚⋆˖Kylian loves dancing with you in the kitchen, although calling it dancing might be generous. It's more like the two of you swaying around each other while dinner cooks, barefoot on the floor with music playing quietly in the background. Sometimes he pulls you closer just because he can. Sometimes you catch him singing along to a song he claims he doesn't even like. Sometimes neither of you are actually dancing; you are just standing there, holding each other, laughing because you both forgot what you were supposed to be doing. "Aren't you supposed to be cooking?" you'll ask when he spins you around. "I am." "Kylian, you're literally not touching the food." "I'm supervising." "You're dancing." "Exactly. Very important supervision." You roll your eyes, but you're smiling too much to argue. Eventually, the smell of something slightly burnt fills the kitchen, and you both freeze. "Did you forget about dinner?" A pause. "Maybe." "Kylian." "But the dance was good, wasn't it?" And honestly, looking at him laughing so carefree in the middle of your messy kitchen, you can't even say he is wrong.
𐙚⋆˖he doesn't always know how to switch off. Even on quiet evenings, even when there is nowhere he needs to be and nothing waiting for him tomorrow, part of him is still thinking ahead. The next match. The next challenge. The next thing he has to improve. Sometimes you catch him staring into the distance, completely lost in his own thoughts, and you gently pull him back by asking what he's thinking about. More often than not, the answer is something football-related. So you take his hand, bring him back to the present, and remind him that he is allowed to have moments where he isn't chasing something. That he doesn't always have to become better. Sometimes he can simply be.
𐙚⋆˖he finds comfort in the fact that you knew him before you saw him as extraordinary. The world meets him through achievements and headlines, through the things he has accomplished and the expectations people place on him. But you know the little things, the habits that would never make the news: the jokes he repeats too often, the songs he secretly loves, the way he gets excited about something and immediately wants to tell someone. You know the version of him who walks into the kitchen looking for a snack and somehow forgets what he came in for thirty seconds later. There is something grounding about being loved not for what you represent, but for who you are when nobody is watching.
𐙚⋆˖he apologizes when he knows he has been absent, even if you never asked him to. There are weeks where football seems determined to borrow every spare hour he has; training runs longer than expected, flights blur into hotel rooms, recovery sessions replace evenings at home. You understand. You always have. But that never stops him from feeling guilty when he finally walks through the front door. Sometimes he'll wrap his arms around you before he's even taken his shoes off and quietly mumble, "i'm sorry..." against your hair. "For what?" you'll ask, genuinely confused. "For always being away." The thing is, you never really feel abandoned because you know exactly where he is and why he has to be there. But that's who Kylian is. He never wants the people he loves to feel like they come second to anything, even when life occasionally gives him no choice. So he makes up for the lost time in the only way he knows how: by making sure that, once he's home, you have all of him.
𐙚⋆˖Kylian loves seeing you wearing his jersey, though he tries very hard to pretend otherwise. There is something about seeing his name stretched across your back that makes him pause for just a moment. The same name that belongs to stadiums full of people, printed on thousands of shirts all over the world, somehow feels completely different when it's yours. It stops being a symbol of football and simply becomes another little reminder that the person waiting for him at home is always in his corner. In a life where his name belongs to millions of people, seeing it on someone he loves somehow feels the most special of all.
𐙚⋆˖Kylian never wants you to feel like you have to compete with his ambitions. Football is a huge part of his life, something he has dedicated years to and something he continues to pour himself into, but he doesn't want the person he loves to feel like they are standing in the shadow of it. He wants you beside him, not waiting behind him. He wants to celebrate victories with you, but he also wants to come home after difficult days and remember that his worth has never depended on a scoreline.
𐙚⋆˖he is endlessly curious about the little things that make you you. Your favorite childhood memories, the stories behind tiny scars, the songs you listened to when you were younger, the food your family always made growing up. He asks questions nobody else thinks to ask because he genuinely wants to know every version of you - the person you are now and the one you were long before you met him. Sometimes you'll mention something completely offhand, like the stuffed animal you refused to sleep without when you were six, and twenty minutes later he's still asking questions about it. "What was it called?" "Why that one?" "Do your parents still have it?" You'll laugh because no one has ever sounded so invested in something so wonderfully insignificant. But to Kylian, it isn't insignificant at all. Every answer feels like another little piece of the puzzle that makes you who you are, and he wants to collect every single one and piece them together one by one, until he discovers the full picture.
𐙚⋆˖he loves when you remind him of the person he was before everything changed. Before the fame, before the expectations, before every match became something the entire world had an opinion on. You remind him of the younger version of himself who simply loved football because it made him happy. Sometimes he needs that reminder - that passion is supposed to bring joy too, not just pressure.
𐙚⋆˖Kylian has a habit of turning even the most ordinary moments into something that leaves your stomach hurting from laughter. He isn't trying to be funny because he wants attention; he simply loves the sound of your laughter. The moment you finally break, covering your face because you can't stop giggling, he'll grin like he's just won the champions league. If he can make you laugh once, he'll spend the rest of the evening chasing that sound all over again.
𐙚⋆˖he can't stay serious for very long. Arguments with Kylian always begin with the best intentions. The two of you sit down, determined to talk things through properly, and for a few minutes it actually works. But it rarely lasts because eventually he'll pull a ridiculous face or say something so dramatically over-the-top that you have no choice but to laugh. He knows it's unfair, and you'll tell him exactly that between giggles, but seeing you smile again will always matter more to him than winning the argument. He never uses humor to avoid difficult conversations - those still matter to him. He just can't bear the feeling of the two of you standing on opposite sides of a room for very long.
𐙚⋆˖supporting him is never just about celebrating the victories. Anyone can cheer when everything goes right, when the goals are coming, when the headlines are kind and the stadium is chanting his name. But you quickly learn that the moments he needs you most are the quiet ones that happen after everyone else has gone home. The difficult matches. The frustrating performances. The nights where he sits beside you replaying every mistake in his head long after the final whistle has blown. You never try to convince him that he was perfect, because you know that's not what he needs. Instead, you remind him that one match has never been capable of defining the person he is. You celebrate the hard work nobody sees, the discipline it takes to keep showing up, and the passion that made him fall in love with football long before the world ever learned his name. Loving him means standing in the front row during his victories, but it also means sitting beside him in silence after his defeats - and those are the moments that bring the two of you even closer.
𐙚⋆˖Kylan also always knows exactly where you're sitting. You ask him once how that's even possible when there are thousands of people in the stands, and he just shrugs like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I just know." The first time he scores while you're there, his celebration is exactly what everyone expects: running toward his teammates, grinning from ear to ear, soaking in the moment. But before he joins the huddle, he glances toward your section, just for a heartbeat. The cameras never catch it. The commentators never mention it. Nobody notices except you. After the match, while you're teasing him about it, he smiles to himself. "I told you i'd find you, ma chérie."
𐙚⋆˖he never gets tired of hearing you say you're proud of him. The world congratulates him constantly; he hears his name shouted from crowds, sees his achievements written everywhere, and receives praise from people who admire what he does. But when those words come from you, they somehow feel different. More sincere, more personal. Because you aren't just celebrating the footballer everyone sees. You're celebrating the person who stayed late after training. The person who pushed through difficult days. The person who carried pressure most people will never understand and still found a way to keep going. After a match, win or loss, you simply look at him and say: "I'm proud of you." And for a moment, all the noise disappears. He'll smile, but it's softer than the one he gives to the cameras. He'll look away, maybe shake his head slightly like he doesn't quite know what to do with such a simple sentence meaning so much. "You are?" "Of course i am." Because to you, it was never only about winning. It was about seeing how much he gives, how much he sacrifices, and how much heart he puts into everything he does. And maybe that's why your words always stay with him longer than any trophy ever could.
𐙚⋆˖he always sends you pictures when he's away, even if they are completely random. A view from the hotel window. His coffee before training. A funny moment that happened during the day. Nothing important, nothing that would interest anyone else; but he likes sharing little pieces of his life with you. Sometimes you'll open your phone to five pictures from him with absolutely no explanation, and somehow you always know exactly what each one means.
𐙚⋆˖he loves when you challenge him. He doesn't want someone who agrees with everything he says just because of who he is. He likes that you have your own opinions, that you'll argue your point, that you'll tell him when he's being stubborn instead of simply letting him win. Sometimes he pretends to be offended, but he loves that you don’t treat him like someone superior.
𐙚⋆˖Kylian is incredibly driven, and you notice quickly that his ambition doesn't disappear when he leaves the pitch, it follows him everywhere. He is constantly chasing the best version of himself, how he can become better than he was yesterday. One more goal. One more improvement. One more detail to perfect. Some evenings you'll find him replaying moments from a match on his tablet, pausing every few seconds before rewinding it again. "You know you've watched that about ten times now?" you'll tease. He barely looks away from the screen. "Mm... i know." "And?" "I could've timed that run better." You'll smile because, of course, that's what he's looking at. Not the goal everyone else is celebrating. The one tiny detail he thinks he could have done better. Every now and then you'll gently close the tablet, take his face between your hands, and remind him of something he always forgets: that there will always be another match, another challenge, another dream waiting around the corner. But tonight, he can be proud of the one he's already living. You love that about him; the way he refuses to stop dreaming, even after reaching heights most people can only imagine.
𐙚⋆˖he loves seeing you become part of his world, but he never wants you to lose yourself in it. He doesn't want you to simply exist beside his career; he wants you to have your own dreams, your own passions, your own moments to celebrate. He admires people who chase what they love, and seeing you excited about something makes him just as happy as seeing you support him. To him, a relationship isn't about one person standing in another person's shadow. It is about two people cheering for each other.
𐙚⋆˖he gets impossibly soft whenever you're half-asleep. Your sleepy voice, the way you unconsciously reach for him without opening your eyes, the little pout that appears whenever he has to get out of bed before you - it all makes his heart ache in the sweetest way. If he doesn't absolutely have to leave, he'll stay exactly where he is for another five minutes. Then another five.
𐙚⋆˖Kylian never stops being a little bit of a child when it comes to football. No matter how many achievements come his way, there is still that spark of excitement whenever he talks about it. Ask him one simple question about the game and suddenly he's halfway across the living room using cushions as defenders and rolled-up socks as the ball because apparently that's the easiest way to explain what he means. "Look," he'll say, already completely invested. "If he runs here instead..." Before you know it, he's pacing around the room recreating an entire passage of play with the enthusiasm of someone discovering football for the very first time. There is something beautiful about watching someone who has accomplished so much still have that same passion that made him fall in love with football in the first place.
𐙚⋆˖he loves lazy mornings way more than glamorous nights out. The world imagines that someone like him is constantly chasing excitement, but his favorite mornings begin long after the alarm should have gone off. Sunlight spilling through half-open curtains. Coffee growing cold because the two of you keep talking instead of drinking it. Music playing quietly from somewhere in the apartment while neither of you feels any urgency to get dressed. Every now and then he'll look over at you with that sleepy little smile and think, almost in disbelief, this is what peace feels like. Not packed stadiums or flashing cameras. Just the comfort of knowing there's nowhere else he'd rather be than right here with you.
𐙚⋆˖he loves that you give him a place where he can be silly. The world often expects maturity from him, expects him to handle pressure and carry himself perfectly. But with you, he can be ridiculous. He can dance badly in the kitchen, make terrible jokes, argue passionately about something completely unimportant. You get the version of him that isn't trying to impress anyone. The version that laughs until his stomach hurts and forgets, even for a little while, that so many people are watching.
𐙚⋆˖dating one of the most recognizable footballers in the world means accepting that people will always have something to say. Strangers think they know your relationship because they saw a photograph, an interview, or a ten-second clip online. Headlines invent stories. Social media picks apart every little interaction, trying to turn private moments into public entertainment. It can feel overwhelming sometimes, but Kylian never lets you face it alone. He is proud to love you, but he is also incredibly protective of the little life you build together. He never hides you because he is ashamed - he hides the relationship from the parts of the world that would only try to turn it into gossip. Fame has taught him that not everything beautiful needs an audience. So he keeps the biggest declarations for quiet moments at home instead of social media, chooses private dates over public spectacles whenever he can, and makes sure your relationship is built on memories rather than headlines. He would rather have a hundred ordinary moments that belong only to the two of you than one grand romantic gesture that belongs to everyone else.
𐙚⋆˖he doesn't need you to be impressed by him, and maybe that's one of the things he loves most about you. The world is constantly reminding him of what he has achieved, but you never make him feel like he has to perform to deserve your affection. You don't love him because he scores goals or because millions of people know his name. You love him because he laughs too loudly, because he gets overly competitive about meaningless things, because he forgets where he put his keys and insists they "disappeared." With you, he isn't something extraordinary. He is simply Kylian.
𐙚⋆˖and maybe the sweetest thing about loving him is that you get to see the person behind the ambition. The world knows Kylian Mbappé: the athlete, the superstar, the record breaker. But you know the person who reaches for your hand without thinking, who smiles when he sees you walk into a room, who finds peace in the simple fact that, after everything, he has somewhere he belongs.
𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒♡
✶❁˖he is the kind of person who wants to know everything about your life before him. Your childhood. Your favorite memories. The people who shaped you. The things that made you who you are. He doesn't just want to be part of your future, he wants to understand the story that created you.
✶❁˖Jude never makes you feel like you're competing with football. There are days when training runs long, when travel keeps him away, when the season demands more from him than either of you would like. But no matter how busy life becomes, he makes sure you never question where you stand. Sometimes that means a late-night phone call when he's exhausted but still wants to hear your voice before going to sleep. Sometimes it's a message before every match telling you he'll see you soon. Sometimes it's simply the way he looks at you when he finally walks through the front door, smiling because coming home has become his favorite part of the day. He cannot always give you his time, but he never lets you doubt that you have his heart.
✶❁˖he is incredibly protective of your relationship. Not in the sense that he hides you away or acts like loving you is something that needs to be kept a secret, but in the way he refuses to let outside opinions become part of what you've built together. Jude knows that when your life is as public as his, people will always have something to say. They will make assumptions based on a picture, a headline, a moment they saw without knowing the story behind it. But he has never been interested in letting strangers have a say in something that belongs only to the two of you. And when the cameras disappear and the door closes behind you, all of that noise disappears with it; there is no footballer, no expectations, no opinions from people who don't know you. Just Jude, barefoot in the kitchen, stealing food from your plate and asking about your day as though that is the only thing that matters. Because to him, the most important parts of your relationship have never been the ones other people get to see, they are the ones that belong only to you two.
✶❁˖he loves talking about football with you. Not because he expects you to understand every tactical detail, but because he loves sharing the things he's passionate about with the person he loves most. Sometimes you'll be sitting together after a match while he excitedly explains something that happened on the pitch, using salt shakers, cushions, or whatever happens to be nearby to recreate the play. "Baby, you're using the ketchup bottle as a midfielder." He'll pause, look down, and then continue as though that is a completely normal thing to do. "Anyway, as i was saying..."
✶❁˖Jude hates disappointing you. If he has to cancel a date because training runs late or travel gets in the way, he'll spend the rest of the evening apologizing even after you've told him that it's okay. He knows football will always demand pieces of him that don't belong to himself anymore, and sometimes he worries it's asking for pieces that should belong to you instead. You'll remind him that one missed dinner doesn't change the relationship you've built together, but he'll still feel guilty. The next time he sees you, he'll show up with your favorite coffee, or suggest that little restaurant you've been talking about for weeks, determined to make up for something you never asked him to apologize for in the first place. Not because he thinks love has to be earned back, but because making you happy has become one of the most important parts of his own happiness. Loving you means showing up whenever he can - and on the days he can't, he makes sure you never have to question how much he wishes he could.
✶❁˖he has never been very good at hiding how he feels. Happiness reaches his eyes long before it reaches his smile. Worry shows itself in the little crease between his brows. Pride softens his entire face. Love... well, love is written all over him. People tease him because the second you walk into a room it's as though someone has switched on a light only he can see. He'll deny it, of course, insisting he's acting perfectly normal. Then someone points out that he's been smiling at you for the last five minutes without realizing it. His ears go pink, you try not to laugh, and everyone else only shakes their heads. Poor Jude never stood a chance.
✶❁˖the first person he wants to share every big moment with is you. Some people celebrate by posting online, others call their friends - Jude looks for you. Whether it's a big win, an award, good news after training, or simply one of those days where everything seems to go right; his first instinct is always the same - i can't wait to tell her. Sometimes his excitement gets the better of him and you receive a voice note before you've even had time to wonder how his day went. Other times he waits until he gets home because seeing your reaction in person somehow makes the moment feel even better. The achievements are special, of course, but sharing them with you is his favorite part.
✶❁˖watching you become part of his family is something he'll never stop being grateful for. The first time he catches you laughing with his mum in the kitchen while his brother is teasing both of you about something completely ridiculous, he pauses in the doorway for a moment. Nobody notices, you're all too busy talking over one another. He only smiles to himself because somewhere along the way, the people he loves most have started feeling like one family instead of two. "Mum really loves you, you know," he tells you later when it's just the two of you again. You'll laugh and tell him you love her too, which makes him smile for the rest of the night.
✶❁˖he celebrates your achievements with the same excitement you celebrate his. It doesn't matter whether it's something huge or something nobody else would think twice about; he'll stop whatever he's doing to listen, asking a hundred questions, looking impossibly proud. "I knew you could do it." You'll laugh and tell him he's acting like you won the ballon d'or. "To me?" he says, pulling you into a hug. "Might as well have."
✶❁˖Jude has an old soul when it comes to love. Maybe it's because so much of his life has moved faster than it should have, but he has never understood the appeal of making someone guess how he feels. He doesn't believe love should be confusing. It should feel safe. Certain. Like coming home after a long day and knowing the light will always be on for you. He has no interest in playing games or pretending to care less than he actually does; if he misses you, he'll tell you. If he's proud of you, you'll hear it. If he loves you, you'll never have to wonder whether he still does. He shows up, he remembers, he follows through. You don't have to search for proof that he loves you; not because you've stopped needing reassurance, but because he gives it to you every single day in ways so gentle and unwavering that you almost forget what uncertainty ever felt like. Loving Jude never feels like chasing someone who's one step ahead of you. It feels like walking beside someone who made the decision to choose you a long time ago - and has continued making that same choice every single day since.
✶❁˖he gives the warmest hugs. The kind where he wraps both arms around you, pulls you against his chest, and somehow makes the rest of the world disappear for a little while. He never seems to be in a rush to let go either. If anything, you're usually the one laughing and reminding him that you do eventually have to get on with your day. "Not a chance, my love. Your'e stuck with me forever."
✶❁˖Jude also doesn't really understand the idea of "personal space". If you're reading, he'll somehow end up stretched across your lap before long, absentmindedly playing with your fingers while asking what your book is about. If you're cooking, he'll wander into the kitchen with no real reason other than wanting to be wherever you are, leaning against the counter until eventually that isn't close enough either and he's wrapping an arm loosely around your waist while you stir whatever's on the stove. If you're watching television together, he'll gradually shuffle across the sofa in tiny, almost imperceptible movements until your legs are tangled together, his shoulder is resting against yours and you're practically sharing the same cushion. You laugh and tell him he's physically incapable of spending more than five minutes without touching you. "Would that be so bad, my love?" You only roll your eyes before leaning into him anyway, because the truth is you've become just as used to his need for closeness as he has. Somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling clingy and simply started feeling like home.
✶❁˖he loves rainy days with you more than sunny ones. Rain gives the two of you permission to slow down. To stay in your pajamas until noon. To order food instead of cooking. To spend hours tangled together on the sofa while a film plays in the background that neither of you are really watching. Every now and then he'll glance out the window before looking back at you with the softest smile, thinking that there is nowhere else he'd rather be than exactly where he is right now.
✶❁˖sometimes he forgets that the world knows who he is. You'll be walking together, laughing about something completely ridiculous, when someone suddenly asks for a photo. You can almost see the switch happen: his shoulders straighten, he smiles politely, and for a few moments he becomes the version of himself everyone else recognizes. He never complains because he just excudes kindness, but the second you're alone again, he nudges your shoulder and finishes the joke as though the interruption never happened. You quickly realize that the real Jude isn't the one thousands of people recognize on television. He's the one who can't remember the punchline because he started laughing halfway through telling it.
✶❁˖Jude absolutely loves forehead kisses. They're never rushed or absentminded, never something he does simply because it's become a habit. He'll cup your face gently between his hands, brush his thumb over your cheek, and press a slow kiss to your forehead before lingering there for just a second longer than necessary. Sometimes it's before he leaves for training. Sometimes it's when you're sitting together in silence. Sometimes it's simply because he looked at you and felt the sudden need to remind you that you're loved. And the sweetest part is that he never does it expecting anything in return; a forehead kiss isn't about passion or showing affection in a way other people can see - it's reassurance. It's comfort. It's his way of saying i'm here, i've got you, you're safe with me. You'll eventually tease him about how often he does it, laughing when he kisses your forehead for what feels like the tenth time that day. "Do you have a favorite spot or something?" And he'll just smile, completely serious. "Yeah... right here" he says, before he presses his lips to your forehead once more.
✶❁˖he is also always finding excuses to steal one more kiss. You'll be walking past him on your way to the kitchen when he suddenly catches the sleeve of your jumper. "Oi." "What are you doing?" "Come here, my love." You sigh dramatically, already knowing exactly what he wants. "Jude, i was literally just -" before you can finish your sentence, he's already smiling, leaning in to kiss you. Just a soft, lingering kiss that leaves him looking far too pleased with himself. "Happy now?" you'll ask. "Yeah." "That's all you wanted?" "Pretty much." Then he'll let you go as though interrupting your entire journey across the house for a kiss was the most reasonable thing in the world.
✶❁˖he has this little habit of brushing his thumb across your cheek before he kisses you. Every single time, and it's never something he seems to think about. His hand simply finds your face as naturally as his lips find yours, his thumb tracing the softest little stroke along your cheek before he leans in. "You always do that." He blinks. "Do what?" "That thing with your thumb." He looks genuinely puzzled, then, almost absentmindedly, his hand comes up to cup your face again, his thumb brushing over your cheek exactly the way it always does. You can't help but smile. "See? You just did it again." He glances between you and his hand before a sheepish little smile appears. "Didn't even realize." Maybe that's what makes it feel so special. It isn't a gesture he's learned from somewhere or something he does because it looks romantic. It's simply the way he kisses you. As though, before every kiss, he wants to make sure you're being held just as gently as you're being loved.
✶❁˖you try to teach him how to cook; he's eager to learn, genuinely listens when you explain things, and still somehow manages to get ingredients absolutely everywhere. You'll turn around for two seconds and find him staring at the recipe with the sort of concentration he usually reserves for football tactics. "You're overthinking pasta." "I am not." "Jude..." "Alright... maybe a little."
✶❁˖he loves lazy sunday mornings because there is no rush to get out of bed. One of you eventually suggests making breakfast, but neither of you actually moves for another twenty minutes because every time you try, Jude pulls you right back against his chest. You'll laugh and tell him nothing is ever going to get done at this rate. "I know, love." He doesn't sound particularly bothered by that.
✶❁˖Jude could happily spend an entire day doing nothing as long as he's doing it with you. Some weekends begin with plans to go out, run errands, maybe meet friends later in the afternoon. Somehow, though, the moment the two of you end up back on the sofa together, all of those plans disappear. You'll be tucked against his chest beneath a blanket, one of his arms wrapped securely around you while the other lazily plays with your fingers or traces absent-minded patterns along your back. Every now and then he'll press a kiss to the top of your head without interrupting the conversation, almost as though he can't help himself. "We should probably get up." "Mm." "We've been saying that for an hour." "I know." Neither of you moves. Eventually, you'll laugh and call him clingy. He only pulls you closer - "you're not complaining." And honestly... how could you?
✶❁˖he always tries to make you smile before he leaves, even on mornings when neither of you wants to get out of bed. He'll be halfway out the door, already running late, when he notices you look tired and comes back. "What?" you'll ask, still sleepy. "Nothing." "Jude, you're late." "I know." "Then why are you still standing here?" He'll smile, lean down to kiss you, and quietly say: "Because i wanted to see you smile before i leave."
✶❁˖Jude has always been drawn to things with history. Old books with notes scribbled into the margins by someone he'll never meet. Black-and-white films where every conversation seems to linger just a little longer than modern ones do. Vintage record shops tucked away on quiet streets. He loves the feeling that something has lived a life before finding its way into his hands. One rainy afternoon you're browsing a tiny second-hand bookshop while the rest of the street hurries past outside. He carefully opens a novel that's older than both of you, smiling when he finds someone's name written neatly inside the front cover. "Imagine everything this book's seen," he murmurs, almost to himself. When you ask what he likes so much about old things, he shrugs thoughtfuly. "I don't know... i think i just like things that last." You smile because, somehow, that sounds exactly like the way he loves you.
✶❁˖he loves taking random pictures of you when you aren't paying attention; those are always his favorites. You'll be reading on the sofa with your legs tucked underneath you, laughing at something on your phone, dancing absentmindedly while making dinner, or looking out of the car window completely lost in thought. That's when he'll quietly reach for his phone. Half the time, you don't even realize he's done it until weeks later when he's scrolling through his camera roll and you spot another candid photo you never knew existed. "Jude... when did you take that?" He'll glance down at the screen, smile to himself, and say, "i don't know... you looked cute." His gallery slowly fills with hundreds of little moments you never thought were worth remembering. To everyone else, they're just ordinary pictures, but to him, they're pieces of the life the two of you are building together.
✶❁˖he absolutely adores when you steal his clothes, although he'll pretend to complain every single time. "Baby..." he'll sigh dramatically after spotting you in one of his hoodies for what feels like the hundredth time. "I'm beginning to think you own more of my wardrobe than i do." You'll glance down at yourself before shrugging. "Looks better on me." He'll shake his head like he's deeply offended, only to pull you closer a second later. "Can't even argue with that, my love."
✶❁˖he has this ability of making you feel like you're the only person in the room. It doesn't matter how busy things get, how many people are talking to him, or how chaotic everything around him becomes. The second you start telling him something, his attention is yours completely. His phone ends up forgotten on the table. Conversations around him slowly fade into background noise. He listens with an intensity that makes you feel as though every word coming out of your mouth matters. You could be telling him about the most ordinary part of your day, and he'd still look at you like you've just told him the most interesting story he's ever heard. You'll catch yourself apologizing halfway through a story because you think you're rambling, and he'll look at you with genuine confusion. "No, keep going." He doesn't just hear people, he truly listens to them. And when he's listening to you, you never feel like you're competing with the rest of the world for his attention.
✶❁˖Jude loves when you are completely unimpressed by the things everyone else finds impressive. Not because he doesn't appreciate his achievements, but because your reaction reminds him that there is more to him than football. You can watch him score a goal in front of thousands of people and then immediately tease him for leaving his coffee cup somewhere ridiculous. You can congratulate him on a big win and then complain that he still hasn't learned how to fold laundry properly. And honestly? He loves it. He likes that with you, he never gets placed on a pedestal.
✶❁˖Jude has a habit of stopping whatever he's doing just to admire you. You'll look up from your book to find him smiling across the room for absolutely no reason. "What?" you'll ask with a sheepish smile. "Nothing." "Jude..." "Just looking at you." "Why?" He shrugs. "Because you're my favorite person."
✶❁˖he absolutely adores when you fall asleep before him. Some nights you'll drift off halfway through a film, your head slowly finding its way onto his shoulder until your breathing evens out. Other times you'll be curled up beside him after a long day, completely exhausted before you've even managed to finish saying goodnight. Jude always tells himself he'll wake you up properly or carry on with whatever he was doing, but he never does. Instead, he'll quietly move a blanket over you, brush a few strands of hair away from your face, and spends a few moments simply looking at you. Because every now and then it still catches him off guard; the fact that, after everything football has brought into his life - the pressure, the travel, the constant noise - he gets to come home to someone who feels like peace. Eventually, he'll lean over, press the softest kiss to your forehead, whisper a quiet "goodnight, my love" even though he knows you won't hear it, and only then will he let himself fall asleep beside you.
✶❁˖Jude is unbelievably gentle; tenderness just seems to come as naturally to him as breathing. The way he reaches for your hand whenever you're walking together, his fingers slipping between yours so naturally it's almost as though they were always meant to fit there. The way he brushes your hair behind your ear in the middle of a conversation without interrupting a single word you're saying, simply because a strand had fallen across your face and he wanted to see it fully. The way his hand instinctively finds the small of your back when you're weaving through a crowded room, not to guide you, but just to make sure you're close to him. There is never anything hurried or careless about the way he loves you; even after a long day, even when he's exhausted after training or travelling, he never makes affection feel like something squeezed into the spaces of your lives. When he's with you, he gives you his full attention. As though, for those few moments, nothing outside the two of you exists anymore, and he makes sure you know exactly how cherished you are. Sometimes you'll catch yourself wondering how someone can be so naturally careful with another person's heart. Then Jude will smile at you, and you'll remember that this is simply who he is. Loving you has never felt like a performance to him - it has always been the most natural thing in the world.
✶❁˖he adores your laugh so much, and honestly... what better way is there to hear it than starting a full-blown tickle fight? It usually begins with something innocent; he'll poke your side as he walks past or wiggle his fingers suspiciously when you're sitting beside him. "Jude..." you'll warn, already laughing. "Don't." "Don't what?" he asks with the most innocent expression imaginable. Five seconds later he's got you trapped against the sofa, both of you laughing so hard neither of you can breathe properly anymore. Somewhere in the middle of all the chaos he'll stop for a second just to grin at you. "There it is." "What?" "That laugh." As if the entire ambush had simply been his excuse to hear his favorite sound in the world.
✶❁˖he always knows when something is bothering you, even when you insist you're fine. It isn't because you're easy to read - quite the opposite. Most people would probably believe your smile and leave it at that. But Jude has spent so much time paying attention to the little things about you that he notices the changes no one else does; the way your laugh sounds just a little quieter than usual, the way you start fidgeting with your rings when you're anxious, or the way your eyes seem to drift somewhere else in the middle of a conversation. He never calls you out in front of other people or pressures you into talking before you're ready. Instead, he'll wait until it's just the two of you. He'll sit beside you, close enough that your shoulders touch, and gently ask, "do you want to tell me what's going on, my love?" And somehow, the way he asks makes it feel less like a question and more like an invitation. An invitation to stop pretending you're okay for just a little while. He has this way of reminding you that you never have to carry everything by yourself - not while he's there.
✶❁˖Jude has this habit of smoothing little creases out of your clothes: a jumper that's folded awkwardly beneath your coat, a collar that's sitting slightly crooked, or a strand of hair caught beneath your scarf. You'll be talking about something completely unrelated when his hands gently fix whatever caught his attention, never interrupting the conversation for even a second. It always makes your heart melt because he doesn't do it to change how you look. He does it with the same tenderness someone would use to straighten the pages of their favorite book.
✶❁˖after a tough loss, when disappointment sits heavy on him and he’s quieter than usual, you're his safe place. He doesn’t always want to talk about the match straight away, but he lets you pull him close. You’ll wrap your arms around him, one hand gently rubbing his back while the other plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. “It’s okay,” you whisper against his temple. “You played your heart out. I’m still so proud of you, baby. You always give it your all.” He might let out a shaky breath and mumble, “felt like i let everyone down tonight,” and you’ll hold him a little tighter, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You could never let me down, Jude. One game doesn’t change how incredible you are.” In those moments he clings to you just as much as you cling to him, letting the outside noise fade while he finds comfort in the one person who sees him beyond the scoreline.
✶❁˖he worries more than he lets on. People often mistake his confidence for certainty, but the truth is that he puts an enormous amount of pressure on himself. Every performance matters. Every mistake feels bigger than it probably is. Every criticism lingers in his mind a little longer than he'd ever admit. For a long time, he tries very hard to keep that side of himself hidden, afraid that if he starts talking about it, he won't know how to stop. But eventually, usually on nights when sleep won't come, the words begin to spill out. He'll lie beside you in the dark, staring at the ceiling, quietly wondering aloud whether he's doing enough, whether he's becoming the player he wants to be, whether the people around him expect more than he can give. You never try to convince him those fears don't exist; you simply remind him that the person you fell in love with has never been measured by ninety minutes on a football pitch. And every single time, you can almost see the weight on his shoulders become just a little lighter.
✶❁˖he's convinced you're his good luck charm. He'll deny it every time you bring it up, insisting he's not superstitious at all. Then he'll immediately ask why you weren't sitting in your usual seat after a match. "I moved like three rows." "Exactly." "Jude..." "I'm just saying, we should probably stick with what works, you know?"
✶❁˖football has given him incredible opportunities, but it has also taken things from him. Privacy. Time. Entire months of his life spent in airports and hotels. There are moments when he feels that loss more than others. Moments when he wishes he could wake up beside you every morning instead of calling from another country. Sometimes he'll ring you from a hotel room and spend an hour talking about absolutely nothing because hearing your voice makes the room feel a little less empty. He'll ask what you had for dinner, laugh when you tell him something completely mundane, and wish he was sitting across the table instead of thousands of miles away. Loving you has taught him something important: home was never a place. It is always a person. So no matter where football takes him, whether it's another city, another country, or the other side of the world, a part of him is always finding its way back to you.
✶❁˖for all his maturity, there is still something wonderfully boyish about Jude. He'll challenge you to races for absolutely no reason, dramatically accuse you of cheating during board games, and hide behind doorways just to scare you before immediately apologizing because you actually jumped and now he feels bad he scared you. Some evenings the two of you end up chasing each other around the house laughing so hard your stomach hurts, and somewhere in the middle of all the chaos you'll stop and think how beautiful it is that someone who carries so much pressure every day still hasn't lost the part of himself that simply loves to play. Around you, he never feels like he has to grow up any faster than life has already asked him to.
✶❁˖football always gets ninety minutes, you get everything that comes after. It doesn't matter whether he's scored, won, lost, or spent ninety minutes running himself into the ground. The final whistle barely has time to echo around the stadium before his eyes are already searching for you. There are teammates to congratulate, interviews to give, cameras everywhere - but for just a second, all he wants is to wrap his arms around you. Sometimes all he gets is a quick wave from across the pitch before reporters pull him away. Other days, when he finally reaches you, he wraps you up in the tightest hug as though he hasn't seen you in weeks instead of a couple of hours. Win or lose, good match or bad one, that first embrace has become his favorite ritual. It's the moment where the footballer disappears, the noise fades into the background, and he's simply Jude again. Your Jude. Football comes first for ninety minutes, but you come first the moment the final whistle blows.
✶❁˖Jude falls in love with every version of you, not just the happiest one. He loves the version that laughs until tears are running down your face and can't finish a sentence because you're giggling too hard. But he also loves the version that wakes up grumpy, wrapped in a blanket, refusing to speak before coffee. He loves the anxious version that overthinks everything, the stubborn version that insists you're right even when you know you're not, the exhausted version that falls asleep halfway through a film because you're tired. To him, loving you has never meant waiting for you to be perfect. It means choosing you on the easy days and the difficult ones, on the loud days and the quiet ones, until every version of you starts feeling like home. Sometimes you'll apologize for being "too much," and he'll look at you with genuine confusion, because he has never once thought you needed to be less of anything.
✶❁˖Jude never leaves you wondering. In a world that seems to romanticize uncertainty, mixed signals, and guessing games, loving him feels wonderfully simple. Not because relationships are always easy, but because he has never once made you question whether you are loved. He tells you. He shows you. He chooses you in a hundred different ways every single day. And somewhere along the way, you realize you've stopped looking for proof that he loves you, because loving Jude has never felt like something you had to earn. It simply feels like coming home. And maybe that's what makes his love so extraordinary; not that it asks you to chase it, but that from the very beginning, he chose you... and never once looked back.
𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒♡
⊹✿°Jamal never expects you to fit into his world without making an effort to fit into yours as well. People often assume dating a footballer means your life slowly starts revolving around fixtures, travel, and training schedules. While football will always be a huge part of who he is, he never wants it to become the only thing the two of you share. If there's something you love, he wants to hear about it too. He'll ask questions, remember the little details, and celebrate your achievements with the same excitement you celebrate his. It reminds you that he has never seen your relationship as you supporting his dreams while yours wait in the background. To him, the two of you are building a life where both of your passions deserve room to grow.
⊹✿°he's incredibly affectionate once the two of you are alone. Around other people he'll naturally keep things understated; not because he's embarrassed to love you, but because affection has always felt private to him. At home, though, it's completely different. If you're sitting together, he'll always end up pressed against your side before long. If you're cooking, he'll wander into the kitchen just to wrap his arms around your waist and stay there until you eventually have to shove him off before dinner gets burnt. Films rarely get watched because he spends half of them kissing you instead of looking at the screen. One evening you eventually laugh and ask, "are you always this clingy?" He smiles into your shoulder without even pretending to deny it. "...only with you, baby."
⊹✿°it doesn't matter whether you've been apart for three weeks or three hours; the moment he sees you again, something about him visibly softens. He'll try to act completely normal, asking how your day was as though he hadn't been counting down the hours until he sees you again, but the way he keeps looking at you gives him away every single time. You tease him about it, of course. "You know your face does this thing whenever you see me." He frowns. "What thing?" "You smile before you even say hello." He insists he doesn't. He absolutely does.
⊹✿°Jamal is very sentimental. He doesn't keep things because they are expensive or important to anyone else; he keeps them because they belonged to a moment the two of you shared. You'll discover it completely by accident one evening while looking for something in one of his drawers. Tucked away among ordinary things are the smallest pieces of your life together: the ticket from your first date, a receipt from the cafe where you stayed talking for hours, the wrapper from the chocolate you made him try because you were convinced he would love it. To anyone else, they would just be things taking up space. But to Jamal, they are reminders of moments that only existed once. In a world where so much of his life is documented, photographed, and shared with everyone else, these little things belong only to him. They are proof of the life the two of you are building away from the cameras.
⊹✿°sometimes he wakes up before you. Years of early training sessions have made his body stubbornly incapable of sleeping in for very long, even on days off. He'll lie there quietly for a while, watching the curtains move in the breeze, your face still buried in the pillow beside him. There is something so calming about seeing you completely unaware of the world; no phone in your hand, no responsibilities waiting for you. Just you. Peaceful. Safe. He'll brush a strand of hair away from your face so carefully that it barely wakes you, and when you instinctively reach for him in your sleep, wrapping your fingers loosely around his wrist as though your body knows exactly where to find him, something inside his chest softens in a way he doesn't quite know how to describe. He has played in front of thousands of people. Scored goals he'll remember for the rest of his life. But somehow, nothing has ever made him feel as important as being the person you reach for without even opening your eyes.
⊹✿°there is something about Jamal's happiness that feels incredibly genuine. When he laughs, he laughs because something is actually funny. When he is excited, he doesn't try to make himself seem cooler than he is. When he loves something, it shows. That's what makes watching him play so special too; because football never looks like a performance for him - it looks like joy. Like he is still the same person who fell in love with the game before there were expectations attached to it. And you feel lucky because you get to see that same version of him away from the pitch: the one who doesn't need to be impressive, because he is happiest when he is simply being himself.
⊹✿°he smiles with his whole face. It starts in his eyes long before his lips catch up, and once you notice it, you can never unsee it. There are different smiles too; the polite one for interviews, the shy one when people compliment him, the laugh that makes him duck his head. But your favorite is the one that appears when he catches you looking at him across the room because it's softer than the others. Like it belongs only to the two of you.
⊹✿°he secretly loves romantic comedies, even though he'll insist he only agreed to watch one because you picked it. Twenty minutes in he's completely invested, sitting cross-legged on the sofa beside you with a bowl of popcorn balanced on his lap. "He's definitely going to mess this up," he'll mutter about the main character, sounding genuinely disappointed when the inevitable misunderstanding happens. By the end of the film he's groaning dramatically every time the couple refuses to communicate properly. "Just tell her you love her!" he'll yell at the television, throwing his hands into the air. You end up laughing so hard you're barely watching the film anymore. "You're way more invested than i am." He immediately shakes his head. "I'm not invested. Just curious, that's all." Five minutes later he's predicting the ending and smiling when the couple finally gets together. You never let him forget it.
⊹✿°Jamal loves kissing you goodbye, but he loves kissing you hello even more. Leaving always feels a little rushed; training to get to, flights to catch, meetings, recovery sessions. His goodbye kisses are always warm, always sincere, but they're usually accompanied by a glance at the clock or a "i'll see you later baby, okay?" Coming home is different. Coming home has no deadline. The second he opens the front door and hears your voice somewhere in the apartment, everything else seems to disappear. His bag barely makes it to the floor before he's looking for you. Sometimes you'll be in the kitchen making dinner, sometimes curled up on the sofa with a book, sometimes halfway through telling him something from another room before you've even seen each other properly. It doesn't matter - he always finds you first. He'll smile, wrap his arms around your waist, and kiss you like he's been starving for you all day. Some days it's just one lingering kiss, other days he'll rest his forehead against yours afterwards, smiling quietly to himself before asking about your day. No matter where football takes him, no matter how exciting the day has been or how exhausting training was, the moment he's been looking forward to most is always this one: the one where he gets to walk through the front door and find you waiting on the other side.
⊹✿°he also has this adorable habit of smiling into kisses. You'll pull away for a second only to find him already looking at you with the corners of his mouth turned up. "What?" you'll ask, laughing. He just shakes his head, cheeks warming slightly. "Nothing." There never is a reason. Sometimes he's simply happy enough to kiss you that it spills onto his face.
⊹✿°he gets so shy whenever you compliment him and blushes in the strangest moments; not when thousands of people chant his name, not when journalists ask awkward questions after matches, not even when cameras are pointed at him from every angle. But tell him you're proud of him while it's just the two of you standing in the kitchen, and suddenly he forgets how to look you in the eye. He'll laugh quietly, rub the back of his neck, and suddenly finds the floor incredibly interesting. He'll mumble a quiet "thank you," and try to change the subject before the warmth creeping into his cheeks gives him away. He just genuinely feels more comfortable talking about you than he does about himself.
⊹✿°he loves watching you laugh; it always catches him off guard. It doesn't matter how many times he's heard it before. Every single time, his attention drifts back to you almost instinctively. You'll be halfway through telling a story or laughing so hard you can barely get the words out, and when you finally glance in his direction, you'll find him already looking at you with the softest expression you've ever seen, as though he's taking in a moment he knows he'll want to remember forever. For a second he forgets everything else around him; the conversation, the television playing in the background, the people sitting across the table... none of it seems to exist anymore. It's just you. Eventually you catch him staring and raise an eyebrow. "What?" His eyes immediately widen before he lets out a quiet little laugh, looking down at his hands with the faintest blush creeping across his cheeks. "Sorry..." he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. "...you just look really pretty when you're happy."
⊹✿°Jamal loves lazy mornings more than expensive dates. They're rare, and maybe that's why they feel so special; there are no alarms blaring, no training sessions waiting, no reason to rush out of bed. The two of you stay tangled beneath the blankets long after the sun has climbed into the sky, talking about absolutely nothing. One minute you're trying to remember what happened in the strange dream you had the night before, the next you're debating whether pancakes are worth the effort or if cereal counts as breakfast. Sometimes the conversation drifts into comfortable silence altogether. Jamal simply lies there beside you, absentmindedly tracing little circles over your arm or running his fingers through your hair while listening to the birds outside the open window. Every now and then he'll glance at the clock before looking back at you. "We should probably get up." You nod in complete agreement, but neither of you actually moves. Five minutes pass. Then ten. Eventually he'll laugh quietly, pull you a little closer and mumble, "okay... maybe just another five minutes, baby." Those mornings become his favorite kind of luxury; not because they're extravagant, but because they ask absolutely nothing of him except to exist beside the person he loves.
⊹✿°there are a hundred little ways he looks after you: your glass is always refilled before you realize it's empty, your phone is already charging because he saw the battery was low, he steps to the outside of the pavement without thinking, or remembers how you take your coffee even after you've changed your order three times. Love has never been loud to him. It has always lived in the little things people forget to look for.
⊹✿°Jamal is incapable of walking past a football without touching it, it doesn't matter where the two of you are. A ball abandoned in the park? He'll gently flick it back towards the kids playing. One sitting outside a sports shop? Suddenly it's balancing on the top of his foot while the two of you are in the middle of a conversation. One afternoon you're halfway through telling him a story when his eyes briefly drift over your shoulder. You stop talking and sigh dramatically. "...don't." He looks back at you with the most innocent expression imaginable. "What?" You point towards the football lying a few metres away. "I know exactly what you're thinking." Five minutes later you're standing in the middle of the park while he patiently teaches you how to juggle; you don't even get past two touches before the ball disappears into a hedge. Jamal laughs so hard he has to bend over, then immediately runs to go and get it. "Again," he says, already tossing it back towards you. "You've nearly got it. Come on, i believe in you." You absolutely have not nearly got it.
⊹✿°there are moments when he forgets what city he woke up in that morning. Hotel rooms have a way of blending together after enough seasons; the same white sheets, the same carefully arranged furniture, the same view of somewhere that never quite belongs to him. Because somewhere along the way, the word home stopped meaning four walls and a front door. It became your laugh drifting through another room. Your shampoo on the bathroom shelf. The familiar sight of your shoes waiting by the entrance. Football has taken him almost everywhere. But somehow, loving you became the first thing that ever made him feel like he finally arrived.
⊹✿°he loves sharing headphones with you. One earbud stays with you, the other with him, and suddenly the two of you are listening to the same song while the rest of the world carries on around you. Sometimes he'll quietly hand you one without saying a word because he found a song he thinks you'll love. Other times you'll glance over halfway through and catch him already looking at you, waiting to see your reaction before the chorus even starts. "Well?" he'll ask the second it finishes. You smile. "I liked it." His grin is immediate. "Knew you would."
⊹✿°after difficult matches, he doesn't want advice. He hears enough analysis from coaches, teammates, journalists and strangers online - what he craves is normalcy. He wants to come home, kick his shoes off by the door, steal one of your hoodies because "it's more comfortable," and curl up beside you on the sofa while you tell him about your day. You quickly learn that asking, "do you want to talk about the match?" almost always earns you a small shake of his head. Instead, he asks what you had for lunch or how many episodes of your favorite show you binge-watched. For a couple of hours, football doesn't exist, and neither of you tries to change that.
⊹✿°Jamal loves the moments where he gets to see the parts of you that nobody else does. Not the version of yourself you carefully choose to show the world, but the completely unfiltered one. The sleepy version who can barely form a sentence in the morning. The version who sings along to songs even when you don't know the lyrics properly. The version who laughs at your own jokes before anyone else has a chance to. Everyone has a side of themself they only show when they feel completely safe, and Jamal treasures that you show yours to him. Maybe because he understands what it feels like to have people know a version of you without really knowing the real one. So when you are with him, when you forget to be anything other than yourself, he sees it as something incredibly special.
⊹✿°he is absolutely hopeless at keeping surprises from you. Every single time he plans something special, he convinces himself that this will finally be the occasion where he manages to keep it a secret. Every single time, he fails spectacularly. "So... what are you doing on saturday?" he'll ask, trying to sound uninterested. When you narrow your eyes at him, he shakes his head far too quickly. "Nothing. Just asking." Then he'll start smiling at the most random moments, constantly checking his phone, accidentally letting little details slip before awkwardly trying to backtrack. "Remember to wear... i mean - you can wear whatever you want." You can't help laughing because he's so painfully obvious. "Jamal..." you say, trying not to smile. "Are you planning something?" His eyes immediately dart away from yours as a grin spreads across his face. "No." "You're a terrible liar." "I'm not lying." "You're smiling." He covers his face with one hand, already laughing because he knows he's been caught. "I haven't even said anything!" And that's exactly what makes it so endearing. You almost always figure it out long before the surprise actually happens, but you never tell him. You still act surprised when the day finally comes because the best part is never the gift or the date itself - it is watching him spend weeks practically bursting with excitement, desperately trying to keep a secret he was never capable of hiding in the first place. His happiness is contagious, and seeing him so excited to make you smile ends up becoming your favorite part of the surprise every single time.
⊹✿°Jamal never acts like being recognized is something he's entitled to. Every fan who nervously walks over asking for a picture still gets the same sweet smile, the same patient, "yeah, of course," no matter how long the day has been. It doesn't matter if he's on his way out after training, carrying three bags through an airport, or halfway through a conversation with you; he'll always stop, give them his full attention, ask how they're doing, and make sure the interaction never feels rushed. Afterwards, as the two of you continue walking, he'll sometimes glance back with the tiniest smile and quietly wonder, "i hope i didn't look too tired in that photo," or, "they were really nice." He never talks about fans like they're an inconvenience or something he simply has to deal with. If anything, he seems genuinely touched that someone chose to spend a part of their day telling him they enjoy watching him play. Fame has never made him expect kindness from people; it has only made him more grateful whenever he receives it. It reminds you that the person everyone admires on the pitch is exactly the same one who comes home afterwards; gentle, humble, still slightly surprised that so many people know his name, and determined to make every person who supports him leave with a smile.
⊹✿°he laughs far more than he teases. There are guys who flirt by winding you up every chance they get, but Jamal isn't really one of them. He'll make the occasional joke, of course, but more often than not he's laughing with you rather than at you. He loves when the two of you end up giggling over absolutely nothing until your stomach hurts.
⊹✿°one of the things you come to love most about Jamal is how deeply he appreciates kindness. Fame has introduced him to countless people over the years, but the ones he talks about afterwards are never the most important or influential. Instead, he'll mention the woman at the bakery who remembered his order, the little boy who excitedly showed him his football boots, or the elderly man who held the door open for both of you before smiling and wishing you a lovely evening. He notices goodness wherever he finds it, perhaps because he tries so hard to live the same way himself.
⊹✿°he adores spotting you in the stands before kickoff. Warm-ups are usually when his mind starts narrowing in on the match ahead; the stadium is already filling up, coaches are calling instructions across the pitch, teammates are joking with one another while they loosen up. From the outside he looks completely focused, and he totally is. But somewhere between stretching and passing drills, his eyes always seem to wander towards the crowd looking for you. And when he finds you, he visibly softens. It might only be a tiny smile or the quickest little wave if he knows the cameras aren't paying attention, but he never forgets. It's incredibly sweet to know that before all the noise begins, before ninety minutes where football becomes the only thing that matters, the very last familiar face he wants to see is yours.
⊹✿°he genuinely loves taking you back to the places that mattered before any of this happened. Not the expensive restaurants people recommend online or the places everyone expects a footballer to go, but the little cafe he used to stop at after training, the park where he spent hours with a ball at his feet, the streets he wandered through as a teenager. He gets so excited showing you these places, smiling before you've even arrived because he already knows exactly what story he's about to tell. "That's where my mum used to wait for me," he'll say, or, "me and my friends were convinced we owned this pitch." Listening to him, you realize that the boy who dreamed about becoming a footballer never really disappeared. He's still there, just wearing different boots.
⊹✿°he always notices when you're cold before you do. You'll insist you're fine, stubbornly refusing his jacket because "it's not that bad," only for him to gently drape it over your shoulders anyway. He doesn't argue, doesn't tease you. He simply smiles when you finally pull it tighter around yourself.
⊹✿°wearing his jersey means far more to him than he'll ever admit. The first time you surprise him by turning up to a match with MUSIALA printed across your back, he genuinely forgets what he was about to say. He just stands there for a second, looking at you with a shy little smile slowly spreading across his face. "...that looks really nice on you." You laugh and tease him it's only because the shirt is comfortable. "Right..." he replies, narrowing his eyes playfully. "Nothing to do with whose name's on it then?" He tries to play it cool for the rest of the day, but every now and then you'll catch him glancing at you with a smile. "You're still thinking about the shirt, aren't you?" He hesitates for a second before giving the smallest nod. "...i just think it looks really nice on you." There have been thousands of people wearing his shirt over the years: fans in stadiums, children in the streets, strangers he'll never meet. But seeing his name across your shoulders feels completely different. Not because you're supporting the footballer everyone else sees, but because you're supporting the man underneath it. And he doesn't think he'll ever stop smiling when he looks at you.
⊹✿°sometimes you'll catch him staring at you with the tiniest smile on his face. "What?" you'll ask. He just shakes his head. "Nothing." "Jamal." "...i just think you're really pretty." He says it so casually, so matter-of-factly, that it catches you off guard every single time. As though complimenting you isn't something he's saying to make you blush - he's simply telling you something he believes to be true.
⊹✿°Jamal has never understood why people think gentleness and strength are opposites. The strongest version of Jamal has never been the one scoring goals in front of eighty thousand people. It's the version who calls his mum after a difficult week. The version who thanks the kit staff before leaving training. The version who kneels down to speak to children at eye level instead of towering over them. The version who still believes kindness isn't something you grow out of just because the world gets louder. Loving him teaches you that softness isn't the absence of strength - sometimes, it's the bravest kind there is.
⊹✿°he doesn't like raising his voice, and he definitely doesn't like going to bed angry. He isn't the type to slam doors or throw words around just because he's upset. If anything, he becomes quieter, needing a little time to gather his thoughts before saying something he doesn't mean. Even if the two of you take an hour to cool off, eventually he'll always find his way back to you. Sometimes he'll quietly sit down beside you on the sofa without saying anything at first, your shoulders almost touching. Other times he'll gently reach for your hand, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your knuckles before he finally looks at you and asks, almost shyly, "can we fix this?" There is never any pride in the way of making the first move; to Jamal, being right has never mattered as much as making things right. He hates the feeling of distance between you, hates pretending everything is okay when it isn't. So the conversation always becomes us against the problem instead of me against you. By the end of it, he'll usually pull you into one of those long hugs he never lets go of first, resting his cheek against the top of your head as though he's making up for every second the two of you spent apart. Loving him never feels like winning or losing an argument, it always feels like two people choosing each other over and over again, even on the difficult days.
⊹✿°he never lets go of a hug first. You'll pull away only to realize his arms are still loosely wrapped around you. "Jamal..." you laugh. "...hm?" "You can let go now." He smiles against your shoulder. "...i know baby. But i don't want to."
⊹✿°he loves listening to your voice messages when he's away. Hotel rooms always feel strangely empty, no matter how nice they are, and after a while every city starts blending into the next. But then his phone buzzes with a three-minute voice note from you. Most of the time it isn't even important; you're complaining about traffic, debating what to make for dinner, or rambling about a show you're watching. He listens while unpacking his suitcase, smiling to himself at the sound of your voice filling the silence. Sometimes he'll replay the same message two or three times before bed because it makes the room feel a little less unfamiliar.
⊹✿°there are days when the attention becomes too much. Interviews, cameras, strangers recognizing him everywhere he goes; it comes with the career, and he'll never complain about the opportunities football has given him. But sometimes he'll get home and you can almost see the exhaustion sitting on his shoulders. On those evenings, he doesn't want crowded restaurants or parties or conversations about football. He just wants you. The two of you will order food, change into comfortable clothes, and spend hours doing absolutely nothing remarkable. You'll read while he rests with his head in your lap, your fingers lazily combing through his hair. Occasionally he'll look up at you with sleepy eyes and smile for no reason at all. Those nights remind him that love doesn't always have to be exciting; sometimes it's found in the silence between conversations, in the warmth of your hand against his hair, in the comforting realization that with you, he never has to perform. He can simply exist, and that's enough for the both of you.
⊹✿°football has taught Jamal to be disciplined, but being with you has taught him how important it is to slow down. Before you, days off had a habit of slipping away without him really noticing. A little extra recovery, watching football, thinking about training tomorrow. Now they're different. Not because you ask him to change, but because he genuinely enjoys having someone who reminds him that life exists outside of the game he loves so much. You'll spend an entire afternoon wandering through the city with no real destination, end up buying pastries from a little bakery you'd never noticed before, and somehow lose track of time completely. On the walk home he'll squeeze your hand and quietly say, "today was nice." He is slowly learning that happiness doesn't always have to be earned. Sometimes it can simply be lived.
⊹✿°there are footballers people admire because of what they achieve, and then there are footballers people admire because of who they are. Jamal somehow manages to be both. Of course you'll always be proud of the goals, the trophies, the impossible dribbles that leave stadiums on their feet. But those are never the first things that come to mind when someone asks you why you love him. You think about the way he blushes when you compliment him. The way he thanks absolutely everyone. The way he laughs with pure joy. Somewhere beneath all the headlines and expectations is simply a kind, gentle man who has never let success harden his heart.
⊹✿°Jamal never makes you feel like you have to compete with the world around him. Football is a huge part of his life, and you would never want it to be anything else. You love seeing how much the game means to him, how his entire face changes when he talks about something he is passionate about. But he also knows when to leave football behind; after a difficult match, he doesn't need you to analyze every decision or tell him what he could have done differently. Sometimes he just wants to sit beside you, let the noise disappear, and remember that he is more than one performance. That's the beautiful thing about loving Jamal - you never feel like you are standing in the way of his dreams. Instead, you are the place he can return to after chasing them. Being loved by him doesn't feel like fireworks; it feels like peace. Like finally finding somewhere your heart can put its bags down and rest. And maybe that's what makes it so extraordinary. In a world that constantly asks him to be bigger, louder and faster, the love he gives you is wonderfully gentle. It never asks for attention. It simply shows up, every single day, until one morning you wake up and can't quite remember what life felt like before it.
𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒♡
★⋆｡Michael has never been the type to make a spectacle out of love. He isn't someone who posts lengthy declarations online or feels the need to announce every milestone to the world. If anything, he's fiercely protective of the little life the two of you build together. There is something comforting about knowing that the happiest parts of your relationship belong only to the two of you; quiet breakfasts that nobody photographs, late-night conversations that never leave the room, ordinary afternoons wandering through the city with your hands tucked into each other's pockets because it's cold. The world gets to see the footballer. They don't get to see the man who quietly steals food from your plate while pretending he isn't doing it, or the one who laughs so hard at one of your terrible jokes that he has to hide his face in your shoulder. Those moments were never meant for anyone else anyway.
★⋆｡people often assume Michael is difficult to read because he isn't loud with his emotions; the truth is that he simply wears them differently. He cares, just in his own way. "You alright?" he'll ask while you're making dinner, never looking up from chopping vegetables. The words are simple enough that most people wouldn't think twice about them, but you know better. You know he's noticed you've been quieter since breakfast. You know he's been waiting until the two of you were finally alone because he doesn't want to put you on the spot. He never demands your feelings from you, he simply leaves the door open and waits for you to walk through it whenever you're ready.
★⋆｡physical affection changes completely the second the front door closes. Out in public, he naturally keeps things understated; he'll brush his hand against yours as you walk, rest his palm lightly against the small of your back while guiding you through a crowd, or quietly lace his fingers with yours beneath a restaurant table. That's usually enough for him; he has never been someone who feels the need to put your relationship on display. The people around him don't need to know how much he loves you because the two of you already do. At home, though, it's as though someone has flipped a switch. You'll be making tea when you suddenly feel two familiar arms slide around your waist from behind, his chin settling comfortably on your shoulder as though that's where it has always belonged. "Michael..." you laugh, trying to reach the cupboard above your head. "...one second." He hums softly in acknowledgement but makes absolutely no effort to move. If anything, his hold tightens ever so slightly. A full minute passes before you gently nudge him with your elbow. "You're in the way." "...i know." Another pause. "...just give me another minute, love." Somehow, "another minute" always turns into five. The kettle finishes boiling, the tea goes cold, and you're still standing in the middle of the kitchen with him quietly holding you, completely content to let the rest of the evening wait. It quickly becomes one of your favorite parts of the day - that little moment where the outside world disappears, the footballer disappears with it, and Michael finally lets himself be as affectionate as he's been wanting to be since the moment he saw you.
★⋆｡he's very thoughtful when it comes to gifts. Weeks before your birthday he'll casually ask a question that seems completely unrelated, or quietly linger when you stop to admire something in a little shop window. By the time the occasion arrives, you've usually forgotten the conversation ever happened; then you unwrap the gift and immediately look at him in disbelief. "How did you even remember this?" He only shrugs, suddenly far more interested in watching your reaction than taking credit for himself. That's always been his favorite part anyway. Not the gift. The smile that follows it.
★⋆｡Michael doesn't fill silence just because it exists. Some evenings the two of you might spend an hour sitting together without saying very much at all; you're reading, he's scrolling through something or watching a match with one arm lazily draped over your legs. Every now and then your feet bump together beneath the blanket, or he'll reach over without looking and absentmindedly intertwine his fingers with yours before turning his attention back to the television. It would probably make other people uncomfortable; with Michael, though, silence never feels empty - it feels peaceful, comfortable. There are no expectations to constantly entertain each other, no pressure to keep the conversation going simply because silence exists. Like you've reached the point where neither of you needs words to prove you're enjoying each other's company.
★⋆｡he has a habit of looking over at you when something makes him laugh. It doesn't matter whether you're watching a film, sitting with friends, or scrolling through something ridiculous on his phone. Before the smile has even fully appeared, his eyes are already searching for you. As though laughter somehow feels incomplete unless you're sharing it. Some habits are born so naturally that you don't even realize your heart made the decision before your head had the chance to catch up.
★⋆｡Michael has never understood the need to perform a personality for other people. In a world that seems to reward whoever speaks the loudest, posts the most, or constantly finds a way to stay in the spotlight, he's perfectly content letting other people do the talking. If someone else has a story to tell, he'll happily listen. If the cameras are pointed somewhere else for a while, he's more than content to let them stay there. He doesn't try to be the funniest person in the room or the center of every conversation, and maybe that's exactly what draws people to him. There is something incredibly refreshing about meeting someone who seems so comfortable simply existing as they are. He isn't quiet because he's shy, and he isn't reserved because he has something to hide - that's just who he is. Some evenings the two of you will spend hours together without either of you feeling the need to constantly talk, and somehow the silence never feels awkward. Around you, there are no walls to maintain, no image to protect, no version of himself he feels obligated to perform. He's wonderfully, unapologetically Michael.
★⋆｡compliments don't tumble out of him every five minutes, and he isn't the type to fill every silence with reassurance just because he thinks he should. In the beginning, you wonder if that's simply who he is. Then, little by little, you begin noticing all the ways he loves you that don't require words at all: the coffee waiting for you exactly the way you like it before you've even made it into the kitchen; your phone mysteriously appearing on charge because he noticed the battery was almost dead; the way he'll quietly swap places with you so you're walking on the inside of the pavement without ever drawing attention to it. He says i love you every day, just not always with words.
★⋆｡he has an incredibly dry sense of humor. Half the time you don't even realize he's made a joke until a few seconds later. He'll say something so outrageous in the calmest voice imaginable that you're never quite sure whether he's serious and stare at him for a few seconds, trying to work it out, while he simply waits with the faintest hint of a smile threatening to appear. "You're joking." "...am i?" he'll reply, making absolutely no effort to help you. You'll stare at him before saying, "that was awful." He'll shrug with the tiniest smile. "...still made you laugh." "You're so annoying," you'll groan, trying not to laugh. A tiny smile appears at the corner of his mouth. "...thank you."
★⋆｡football has made Michael slowly become more comfortable with attention when it's directed at the player he becomes once he steps onto the pitch - the version of him that people analyze, celebrate, criticize, and endlessly talk about. But the man you come home to has never wanted to live at the center of the spotlight. Some evenings he'll walk through the front door after a day full of cameras and interviews, quietly place his keys on the counter, and let out the smallest sigh you've ever heard. You never ask him about football straight away because you've learned that sometimes the greatest kindness you can offer him is allowing him to be someone other than Michael Olise, the footballer. So instead, you tell him about the ridiculous thing your neighbor did that afternoon or complain about the recipe that went completely wrong. And slowly, the tension that has been building up the whole day leaves his shoulders. By the end of the evening he's smiling again and teasing you over dinner as though the outside world has disappeared entirely. That's what home becomes for him - not a place where he's expected to perform, but the one place where he never has to be anyone else other than him.
★⋆｡he isn't the type to dramatically pull you into his arms every five minutes or constantly remind you how much he loves you with big speeches. Instead, his love quietly finds its way into your day with his hand resting against the small of your back as you walk through a crowded room, or his fingers absentmindedly brushing yours across the center console while he's driving, only to leave them there for the rest of the journey. The way he'll gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear halfway through a conversation without interrupting a single word you're saying. Sometimes you'll be sitting beside each other on the sofa doing completely different things when you suddenly realize he's been absentmindedly tracing little circles against your knee for the last ten minutes. He never seems to notice he's doing it, loving you has simply become instinct to him. His affection isn't performed or rehearsed; it just exists, woven into your relationship until one day you realize you can't remember what life felt like before his hands always seemed to find their way back to you.
★⋆｡there are moments when you'll catch Michael looking at you in complete silence, not saying a single word. At first you assume something is wrong. "What?" you'll ask, instinctively checking whether you've got something on your face. He'll blink, almost as though you've interrupted his train of thought, before giving the smallest shake of his head. "...nothing." "Michael..." A tiny smile appears at the corner of his mouth. "Just looking at you."
★⋆｡he always gets so shy when you compliment him. When you say, "i'm so proud of you," he immediately duck his head and smile shyly, brushing the compliment aside. "...thanks." And before you can say anything else, he'll ask what you thought of a particular pass, or whether you were cold sitting in the stands, or if you'd remembered to eat before the match. It takes you a while to realize he isn't dismissing your words because they don't matter. Quite the opposite, actually. They matter so much that he never quite knows what to do with them. So instead of sitting comfortably inside the praise, he gently turns the conversation back towards you. It's a habit that's almost impossible to break, and somehow you find it endlessly endearing. Because every now and then, when he thinks you're not looking, you'll catch that same little smile returning to his face, and you'll know your words stayed with him long after he stopped talking about them.
★⋆｡Michael notices things most people wouldn't even think to pay attention to. You'll mention months ago that you prefer the blue mug because tea somehow tastes better out of it, then completely forget the conversation ever happened. One morning you're wandering sleepily into the kitchen only to find your tea already waiting for you in that exact mug. "How did you remember that?" you'll ask, genuinely surprised. He'll glance up from making his own coffee, looking almost confused by the question. "...you told me." That's simply how he loves. He listens, and he remembers.
★⋆｡oh boy, is he competitive. When he's on the pitch, he constantly feels the need to be the best at what he does, and that doesn’t dissapear once he steps off of it. Video games, for example, have an odd way of bringing out the most competitive version of him. He'll insist before you start that he's "just playing for fun," only for that attitude to disappear the second you're winning. Suddenly he's sitting a little straighter, completely focused, quietly muttering to himself every time something doesn't go his way. When you beat him, he'll stare at the screen for a second before looking at you with complete disbelief. "...i want a rematch." "Already?" "Best of three." Somehow, best of three turns into best of seven, and before either of you realizes it, it's well past midnight.
★⋆｡to the rest of the world, Michael is almost impossible to read. Interviews are short. His expressions rarely give much away. Headlines love calling him calm, mysterious, nonchalant, as though they've somehow figured him out from a handful of what he chooses to show. They build entire opinions from ninety-minute matches, thirty-second interviews, or the handful of clips that make their way around social media. Some people decide he's shy. Others think he's mysterious. A few mistake his calmness for arrogance. You always smile a little when you read those things because they couldn't be further from the person waiting for you at home; they don't see the way he laughs so hard at something ridiculous that he has to lean against the kitchen counter to catch his breath. They don't know how animated he becomes when he's talking about something he genuinely loves, his hands suddenly moving as fast as his words. They never hear the awful jokes he tells with a completely straight face just to see how long it takes you to break into laughter. They don't see him dancing badly while making coffee in the morning, or hear him humming absentmindedly around the apartment because he doesn't even realize he's doing it. The world mistakes quietness for a lack of personality, but you know better. You know that the version people think is reserved simply saves the brightest parts of himself for the people he trusts most. And maybe that's why you never mind sharing him with football, with cameras, or with thousands of supporters. Because at the end of every day, you get to come home with the version of Michael that nobody else will ever really know.
★⋆｡he loves teaching you chess, but it takes exactly one game to realize Michael is a nightmare to play against. Five minutes in, you're convinced you're doing surprisingly well. Ten minutes later you've somehow lost three pieces without even noticing. "Hang on..." you frown, staring down at the board. "...when did that happen?" He only shrugs, already looking at the next move instead. "You were watching the queen." "Well... yeah." "...i wasn't." By the third game you stop trying to beat him altogether and start asking him why he makes certain moves instead. "Sometimes the obvious move isn't the right one." Or, "you don't always have to take a piece just because you can." You can't help laughing to yourself. "...you definitely think about football like this." He glances up for a second before the corner of his mouth twitches. "...probably." But the first time you finally take his queen, he leans back in his chair, folds his arms, and nods once. "...nice." You grin. "You're proud of me." "...don't let it get to your head, love."
★⋆｡he is always completely present. When he's with you, he is with you. His phone stays face down on the table. Conversations aren't interrupted by endless notifications or absent-minded scrolling. If you're telling him about your day, he'll look at you with the kind of attention that makes you feel as though there isn't another person in the world he'd rather be listening to.
★⋆｡he notices details that most people walk straight past. You'll be halfway through a conversation when he'll quietly point out a tiny cat sleeping on someone's windowsill, an unusual building tucked between two ordinary ones, or the way the evening sun is reflecting off the windows across the street. It's made you slow down too. Sometimes, life makes you forget to look at everything happening around you; he reminds you that there's often something beautiful hiding in places most people never think to look.
★⋆｡i don't know why, but i can completely imagine Michael wandering around an art museum. Not rushing from painting to painting because he feels like he should see everything, but taking his time with the ones that catch his attention. While everyone else drifts through the galleries after a quick glance, he'll still be standing in front of the same canvas five minutes later, hands tucked into his pockets, reading the little plaque beside it before looking back at the painting again. At one point you wander off into the next room, only to realize a few minutes later that he's still exactly where you left him. "You coming?" you call with a laugh. He glances over his shoulder before looking back at the painting one last time. "...yeah." When he finally catches up, you ask what kept him so long. He shrugs. "...just liked it." "What did you like about it?" Another small shrug. "...don't know." He smiles to himself. "...just did." And that's exactly the kind of answer you'd expect from him. He never feels the need to invent complicated reasons for why something moves him. Sometimes he simply enjoys standing still long enough to appreciate the beauty right in front of him.
★⋆｡he smiles into kisses. You'll pull away first only to find him still standing there, forehead resting lightly against yours, the smallest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "What?" you'll ask, unable to stop smiling yourself. He'll shake his head almost immediately. "...nothing." But there is something. There always is. He's simply reached one of those quiet little moments where happiness slips onto his face before he has time to hide it.
★⋆｡Michael is incredibly curious about the things you love. It doesn't matter whether it's a hobby he knows absolutely nothing about or a show you've talked about a hundred times before; if it matters to you, he'll want to understand why. "...why do you do it like this?" "...what made you start doing that?" "...so which part do you enjoy the most?" He asks because he genuinely likes seeing your face light up when you talk about something you're passionate about. Loving Michael never feels one-sided; he wants to know your world just as much as he wants to share his own.
★⋆｡there are evenings where dinner goes cold because Michael texted an hour earlier saying it will "only be another twenty minutes" because somewhere towards the end of training he decided to stay behind and work on something again. By the time he finally walks through the front door, the sun has almost disappeared. "Sorry," he'll mumble, rubbing the back of his neck. "Didn't mean to be this late." You help him warm his food up while he tells you about his day, mentioning repeating the same drill over and over because one touch hadn't felt right. Just one. You look over at him for a second before smiling to yourself. Of course it was only one touch. But you can't quite find it in yourself to be annoyed, because watching him care so deeply about getting things right is just another reminder of how much of his heart he pours into everything he loves.
★⋆｡when you come to his matches, it's never a performance for anyone. You'll always cheer just as loudly as everyone else when he steps onto the pitch, your heart somehow finding a way to race no matter how many times you've watched him play. Afterwards, when the stadium slowly empties and he finally makes his way over, there are no dramatic embraces for the cameras or kisses meant to become tomorrow's headline. Usually it's nothing more than a sweet smile, his hand briefly finding yours, or a soft, "you alright?" before he disappears into the locker room. Neither of you has ever felt the need to prove your relationship to anyone else because the most important moments happen long after the cameras stop rolling.
★⋆｡intimacy with Michael is never about urgency. It's incredibly reassuring, the way he pays attention to you, as though nothing else in the world exists while he's holding you. He notices every tiny hesitation before you've even found the words for it, every shift in your breathing, every nervous glance, every little moment where you need him to slow down. He checks in with you in the smallest ways, brushing his thumb across your cheek while searching your face for the answer before you even speak. There is so much patience in the way he loves you that it makes you wonder if he has ever truly known how to do anything halfway. He never assumes, never rushes, never makes you feel as though intimacy is something to perform rather than something to share. Sometimes the two of you will spend what feels like forever simply lying forehead to forehead, talking quietly between kisses until one conversation slowly melts into another. Other nights, you'll end up wrapped around each other beneath the blankets, just laughing and enjoying each others presence. There are nights where you barely do anything except hold each other, and somehow those evenings end up feeling just as intimate as all the others. To him, intimacy has always been about trust; about creating a space where neither of you has to pretend to be confident, perfect, or fearless. Just loved.
★⋆｡if Michael gets to choose how to spend an evening with you, he'll always choose staying in. Not because he dislikes going out, but because his life already asks so much of him outside the front door; home asks for nothing. You ask for nothing. The two of you order food, change into comfortable clothes, argue over what to watch, and spend half the evening talking instead. There are no expectations, no photographers waiting outside restaurants, no pressure to be anywhere else - just the comfort of existing in the same space. To anyone else it might look ordinary, but to him, it feels like peace.
★⋆｡for some reason, Michael just feels like the kind of person who slows down whenever he finds a really good bookstore. Not because he's planning on buying anything in particular, but because something in the window catches his eye. And before you know it, the two of you are wandering between shelves, him pulling out a book every now and then to skim a few pages before carefully putting it back where he found it. Half the time he won't even buy anything; he just likes looking. You'll lose him for twenty minutes before eventually finding him standing in exactly the same spot, quietly reading the first few pages of something he'd picked up by chance. "Found anything?" you'll ask. He'll hold the book up for you to see. "...depends." "On what?" "Whether the ending's any good." Nobody recognizes him very often in places like that, and for an hour or two, he's just another person getting completely distracted by words printed on a page.
★⋆｡he's the most talkative once the lights are off. Maybe it's because there are no cameras, no expectations, no need to perform. The room is dark, the city outside has finally settled, and suddenly he'll ask a question that's been living in his head all day. Sometimes it's something completely random: "Are we alone in the universe, or are aliens out there also lying awake asking the same thing?" that make you question your entire existence. Other nights he'll tell you stories you've never heard before; little memories from growing up, something that happened in training that made him laugh, or a thought that's been circling around his mind for weeks. You learn not to fall asleep too early because bedtime has a habit of becoming the place where he hands you pieces of himself that nobody else gets to see. Those conversations, whispered somewhere between midnight and morning, are the true gateway to the real Michael.
★⋆｡Michael insists he "doesn't really watch anything," which sounds like a challenge more than a statement. So one evening you decide it's finally time to introduce him to your favorite film. Halfway through you glance over, expecting him to be politely pretending to pay attention. Instead, he's completely invested; he starts asking questions, trying to work out where the story goes. By the end he's sitting forward on the sofa, elbows resting on his knees, completely forgetting he'd ever claimed not to like films in the first place. The next week he casually asks, "...what was that other one you said you liked?" You try not to smile. "I thought you didn't watch anything." "...i do now."
★⋆｡being apart never turns either of you into the kind of couple who spend every spare second texting. Sometimes he'll disappear for a few hours because training overruns, recovery takes longer than expected, or he's simply on a plane. Then, usually sometime in the evening, your phone lights up with his name. Some calls barely last ten minutes, others somehow stretch past midnight; it doesn't matter how long you talk as long as the distance between you doesn't feel quite so far anymore.
★⋆｡his camera roll is full of photographs you never knew he took. They're the moments you would have deleted if you'd seen them first; standing on a chair trying to reach the top shelf, laughing so hard your eyes are squeezed shut, concentrating while reading with your legs tucked underneath you on the sofa. "Michael..." you'll laugh the first time you discover them. "When did you even take these?" He barely looks up from what he's doing. "... don't know... you looked cute though."
★⋆｡Michael is nearly impossible to embarrass. You can dramatically sing in the supermarket, dance terribly in the kitchen, or accidentally trip over absolutely nothing, and he'll simply look at you with a tiny amused smile before saying, "...you finished?" He never joins in. But he never tells you to stop either.
★⋆｡rainy days have a way of slowing him down, but he doesn't mind that at all. If the weather is miserable outside, any plans the two of you had, if you even really planned on going out, quietly disappear without either of you feeling particularly disappointed. The windows fog up while something cooks in the oven, music plays softly somewhere in the background, and the afternoon slowly slips away into the comfort of each others presence. Sometimes he'll stand by the window for a minute just watching the rain bounce against the pavement before wandering back over to the sofa and dropping down beside you. "...think we're allowed to do absolutely nothing today," he'll mumble, already moving to reach for your hand. You can't help smiling because he says it like he's finally giving himself permission to rest. And maybe, after weeks of training schedules, travelling, and constantly being expected somewhere, that's exactly what it feels like.
★⋆｡long car drives somehow bring out the softest version of him. One hand stays lazily on the steering wheel while the other eventually finds its way across the centre console until his fingers are loosely intertwined with yours. Sometimes you'll talk for hours about absolutely everything, other times you'll simply watch the world pass by through the window, completely comfortable saying nothing at all. Every now and then he'll squeeze your hand without taking his eyes off the road, almost absentmindedly, as though making sure you're still right there beside him.
★⋆｡one of your favourite things about Michael is how much he smiles when nobody else is around. It's almost funny, really. Spend five minutes online and you'd think the man never changes his expression. Then you get home, say something completely ridiculous, and suddenly he's hiding his face behind one hand because he can't stop laughing. You'll catch yourself watching him sometimes, wondering how the same person people call "mr. nonchalant" can look so effortlessly happy over something as silly as burning toast or arguing about whether cereal counts as dinner. If anyone ever asked you to describe Michael, "serious" probably wouldn't even make the list. Quiet, yes. Reserved, sometimes. But serious? Not once he's with the people he loves.
★⋆｡when something upsets him, his first instinct isn't to shout or slam doors; instead, he grows even quieter than usual. The problem is that silence has a habit of creating its own misunderstandings. You'll start wondering whether he's angry, whether you've made things worse by giving him space, or whether he's pulling away altogether. It usually takes him a little while to realize that the distance he's creating to protect the relationship is actually hurting both of you. He'll quietly find you later that evening, lingering in the doorway for a moment before saying your name so softly you almost don't hear it. "...can we talk?" Then he'll sit beside you, elbows resting on his knees, carefully choosing every word because he wants to explain himself properly instead of simply winning the argument. He doesn't care about proving he's right, what matters to him is making sure the two of you leave the conversation understanding each other a little better than before.
★⋆｡criticism doesn't simply bounce off him because he keeps a straight face. Some nights after a difficult match, you'll notice him lingering over his phone a little longer than usual before quietly locking the screen and placing it face down on the table. He won't tell you what he read, and you never ask. You simply move a little closer until your knees are touching, letting the silence do what words can't. After a while he'll let out the smallest sigh, resting his head against your shoulder. "It's stupid," he'll murmur. "I know i shouldn't read it." The world often forgets that footballers don't stop being people simply because they become public figures. You never try to convince him that criticism doesn't matter because both of you know that isn't true. Instead, you gently remind him of everything those comments could never measure; the hours nobody sees, the kindness he carries into every room, the people who love him long before they love the footballer. Little by little, the weight on his shoulders begins to feel a little lighter. Not because the criticism disappears, but because he no longer has to carry it by himself.
★⋆｡the first time you tell him you love him after a difficult match, he doesn't answer straight away. He's sitting on the edge of the sofa, elbows resting on his knees, still wearing the tracksuit he'd come home in. For a while, he simply stares at the floor. "...even today?" You frown. "What do you mean?" He shrugs one shoulder. "I wasn't very good." Your heart breaks a little, because he has started measuring his worth by one performance rather than looking at the whole picture of his career so far. So you move until you're standing between his knees, gently lifting his chin. "Today and tomorrow and also the day after that, my love, even when you play like you've never seen a ball in your life." That earns you a rare chuckle, and something in his expression softens then. Without another word he reaches for your hand, holding it just a little tighter than usual. His disappointment doesn't just dissapear like that, but he knows he has you in his corner no matter what.
★⋆｡people always ask what Michael is really like, as though there must be some hidden version of him. You always smile because the truth is much simpler than they expect. There isn't some completely different person hiding underneath it all; the kindness people occasionally catch glimpses of, the calmness, the quiet confidence, the dry sense of humor; it's all real. They just don't get to see how much more of it exists once the cameras are gone. They don't see the way he absentmindedly reaches for your hand while he's talking because touching you has become second nature. They don't hear him laughing at two o'clock in the morning because the two of you somehow ended up discussing something completely ridiculous instead of sleeping. They don't know how gently he says your name when you're half asleep on the sofa and it's time to come to bed. The world spends so much time trying to figure Michael out, when really he's never been all that complicated. He's simply someone who saves the softest parts of himself for the people he trusts. Somehow, you became one of them, and you don't think you'll ever stop feeling grateful for that.
★⋆｡loving him never feels exhausting. There are no games to play, no uncertainty to untangle, no wondering where you stand with him once he's decided you're his person. Life around him can be loud; football always will be. But somehow, he never brings that noise home. He leaves it at the front door, walks inside, finds you somewhere in the apartment, and suddenly the only thing that matters is asking how your day was before sneakily stealing a bite of whatever you're making for dinner. Home has never really been a place to Michael - it has always been the feeling the two of you share together. And you think that's your favourite thing about loving him. Somehow, with him, the ordinary parts of life always end up feeling like the extraordinary ones.
★⋆｡it takes you a little while to understand Michael. At first, you mistake his quietness for distance. He isn't the kind of man who fills every conversation with compliments or constantly reaches for your hand simply because he thinks he should. Instead, he watches. He listens. He remembers. Loving Michael is realizing that he doesn't always wear his heart where people can see it. Sometimes it lives in the smallest gestures imaginable, so quiet that you almost miss them. Until one day you realize you've never once had to ask yourself whether he loves you. Not because he tells you all the time... but because he's been showing you from the very beginning.
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