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@stelllaforstar
STELLA’S INTRO
i write for footballers preferably french ones however i will take requests for pretty much anyone as long as i know of them.
i take requests, however no smut!!
male footballer x female reader
!!reader will have no physical description unless stated/requested otherwise!!
masterlist
https://www.tumblr.com/stelllaforstar/822701480380448768/hello-luv-idk-if-your-requests-open-or-not-so-if
I ABSOLUTELY ADOREEEEEED THIS WDYM THIS WAS PERFECT PLS WRITE MORE ANGST THIS WAS GUT WRENCHING 💕💕💕💕💕
aha thank u, i love writing angst sm its my fav thing to read and write so i defo will 💞💞
friday lies
masterlist
fluff (with some miscommunication)
dad!bradley barcola x mom!female reader
plot summary: in which yours and bradley’s respective son’s are the best of friends meaning u spend a lot of time together but a misunderstanding sparked by your ex leads bradley to believe he’s missed his chance with you.
bradley had always looked forwards to friday, not because they marked the end of the school week, but because they meant standing in the playground with you while your son’s disappeared to the football pitch. it had quickly become a routine, he would buy you a coffee and you would sit on a bench, engaging in easy conversation, watching on as the boys mucked about. it was the highlight of his week, it made him feel a way that football never could.
this friday, though, you never came, and when the classroom doors opened and swarms of children walked out, he watched your son walk out alone, looking around the playground slightly lost once he realised you weren’t stood in your usual spot next to bradley. this was before a man that bradley had never seen before called out his name.
“dad?!” your son spoke, more surprise in his voice than excitement as the man hugged him briefly before glancing over at bradley.
“you must be bradley.”
bradley, smiled politely as he introduced himself properly.
“i’m his dad.” the man nodded in your son’s direction who was now on the climbing frame with his own son.
the conversation went on from there, starting innocently enough, as the man explained how you were stuck at work and had asked him to collect your son. bradley nodded, relieved everything was okay as the man looked over at the boys now kicking about he football.
“they’re good together.”
“they are,” bradley agreed.
“i suppose they’ll have to get used to seeing each other less outside of school.”
“what do you mean?” bradley’s brows furrowed.
“y/n and i are giving things another go,” he shrugged continuing, “it just feels right, for our boy.”
bradley felt his stomach drop as he forced a smile.
“oh. i didn’t know.”
“we’re keeping things quiet for now. so i think it’d be best if things between you two just stayed friendly, we don’t want our son getting attached or anything.” the man’s eyes flickered towards bradley causing him to swallow slightly.
“there never was anything.” he spoke through gritted teeth.
“good.” he smiled coldly, “i’d hate for anyone to get the wrong idea and think my woman is someone else’s.”
the following friday you made it back to the playground, smiling the second you saw bradley.
“hi! sorry i missed last week, work had me stay behind.” you explained.
“don’t worry about it.” he smiled back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
something felt off, you chatted for barely a minute as he gave back limited responses, avoiding your eyes before he glanced down at his watch.
“we should probably get going.”
“so soon?” you asked, confused, it’d been barely five minutes, and you usually let the boys play for at least an hour whilst you chatted.
“yeah.” he said flatly as he called his son over, and as they walked away, much earlier than usual, your own son frowned.
“mom?”
“hm?”
“why doesn’t he stay and play anymore?” he asked you confused, in reference to bradley’s kid, as you watched them walk off, wondering the same thing.
another two weeks passed before you caught bradley alone while the boy’s ran off together.
“you’ve been avoiding me.” you pointed out watching his shoulders tense.
“i haven’t.”
“you have.”
he sighed before speaking.
“i just think it’s for the best if we keep some distance.”
“why…?” you stared at him as he hesitated before quietly continuing.
“i know you’re back together with his dad.”
“what?” you blinked.
“he told me.”
“when?”
“the day he picked your son up.”
“oh my god.” you put your face in your hands as realisation hit you immediately whilst bradley frowned at your reaction.
“what?” he asked.
“he lied.”
“but, he said-“
“no, i know what he said, but we are not back together.” you interrupted, shaking your head. “he isn’t involved bradley, he turns up when it suits him and then disappears again, it’s exhausting truly.”
“so,” bradley just stared at you, “so there is no relationship to respect?”
silence settled between you until bradley let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.
“i’ve spent three weeks convincing myself i need to move on.”
“that’s the reason you’ve been avoiding me?” you questioned.
“i liked you.” he looked down, the words coming out so quietly you almost missed them,
“i thought i was doing the right thing.” he continued.
“you really believed him? you heart softened.
“i didn’t think he’d lie about something like that.”
“he lies about a lot of things.” you smiled sadly.
before bradley could answer you, two small yet familiar little voices interrupted them.
“papa!”
“mama.”
your boys can running back over, a genius plan divided between the two of them,
“can we have a sleepover tomorrow?” they asked, puppy dog eyes pleading,
bradley looked at you and for the first time in weeks, you smiled at each other without an ounce of uncertainty.
“i think,” you started, “that that’s a wonderful idea.”
bradley couldn’t hold back the grin on his face as he looked at the two boys, then back at you.
“yeah, i think it is too.”
Hello luv idk if your requests open or not so if they closed just ignore this <3
Can you write something like angsty kinda hurt/comfort with Michael Olise something along the lines of they dating she not really famous and fans keep talking and saying she a gold digger so he says hurtful things and breaks up with her and start dating like a famous rich influencer and then realizes his mistake when the new girl starts acting materialistic and not providing the care and love reader did like small things like cooking tgthr physical touch or just thoughtful stuff andddd thennnnn BEAR WITH ME PLS 😭 ask he realized that reader aside from her usual job picked up side shifts to get more money and he then realizes she never really ask for money even tho she secretly been struggling financially (maybe she a broke university student) and then he apologize and stuff and they back together
If you can’t write it it’s okay I know it’s very long and specific sorry luv your writing 💋
what about us?
masterlist
angst
michael olise x female reader
note: thank u for ur request, i love this idea sm - sorry it took so long for me to complete, i’m still not sure if i like it that much but i hope you do!
if there was one thing about michael it was that he didn’t care what people thought about him, he wasn’t loud, didn’t chase attention nor post every second of his life online, and this was one of the many things you loved about him. you loved how he would cook you homemade dinners and choose to stay inside with you and cuddle over going out and partying, you loved when he would come over to your tiny university flat first thing after training because, as he’d once admitted shyly, “it’s the only place where nobody wants anything from me.”
of course you had believed him, you had no reason not to, the two of you had been together for nearly a year now. you’d study at your small kitchen table whilst michael laid across your sofa simply watching you with a small smile. he’d wrap his arms around your waist whenever you washed dishes, resting his chin on your shoulder until you laughed and pushed him off, joking that he was making things harder.
money never really entered the conversation, not because you had it, because you definitely didn’t. your student loan barely covered rent so you worked weekends in a café and tutored some first year students in the evenings whilst sometimes having to skip meals just so that your food would last until the next payday. michael never knew, whenever he offered to pay for things you would smile and say that, next time it was on you, but the truth was there never really was a next time, not because you didn’t want there to be but because you physically couldn’t afford it.
then people found out you were dating and at first it was harmless comments.
‘she’s cute.’
‘i’m glad he’s dating someone normal.’
‘they’re adorable together.’
but then came the comparisons.
‘she’s so plain, idk what he sees in her.’
‘she’s definitely using him.’
‘is he bored or what?’
‘where did he even find her??’
and eventually… ‘gold digger’.
the phrase followed you everywhere, through tiktok edits, instagram comments and tweets, people analysed every picture, every move you made, every time you looked slightly off someone would screenshot it and make up a story. you laughed it off and so did michael at first, but then interviewers started to ask about your relationship, people would film you at university to send to gossip sites, and students whispered whenever you walked into your lectures.
“wonder how much he pays her.” a girl had once said loudly as you sat down causing the whole room to laugh as you pretended not to hear.
michael saw everything, he read everything, he knew he shouldn’t but as one comment became a hundred and a hundred became thousands, they only started to sound more and more believable.
the apartment smelt faintly of garlic and tomatoes, you’d started cooking at five because michael had texted after training stating that he’d had ‘one of those days’. you were humming quietly to yourself when you heard the front door opened.
“hi.” you smiled over your shoulder, “there you are.”
normally he would come straight over, wrap his arms around your waist and steal a bite of whatever you were cooking before you could stop him, however tonight, nothing.
you glanced behind you to find him still stood by the door, bag slung over one shoulder as he stared at his phone.
“you okay?”
“yeah.” he replied, too quickly.
“bad training?” you asked, turning down the hob.
“it was fine.”
“michael…”
“what?”
“you’re doing that thing.”
“what thing?”
“the thing where you pretend everything is fine even though it’s obviously not.”
“i said i’m fine.” he finally looked up.
“okay.” you nodded slowly.
silence stretched between the two of you with the only sound coming from the sauce bubbling gently on the stove. michael suddenly walked over and without a word he placed his phone on the counter in front of you, displaying another tiktok with thousands of comments from thousands of strangers all saying the same thing;
‘she’s only with him for the money.’
‘he’s blind if he can’t see she’s using him.’
‘props to my girl, she’s securing the bag.’
‘we all know she’ll be gone the second the money starts to dry up.’
“you need to stop reading these.” you sighed quietly before locking his phone.
“why?”
“because they’re strangers.”
“they seem pretty convinced.”
“so?”
“so maybe they see something i don’t.”
your stomach dropped.
“what does the mean?”
“i don’t know.” he shrugged.
“yes you do.” you stated firmly.
“no i don’t.”
“michael.”
“i’ve just been thinking.” he looked away.
“about?”
“about us.”
“what about us?” you forced out, your chest tightening.
he hesitated for a long time, as if he were debating whether or not to say what was clearly at the forefront of his mind.
“say, if i wasn’t a footballer…” he swallowed, looking back at you, “would you still be here?”
“i don’t even know how to answer that.” you blinked.
“it’s a simple yes or no answer.”
“no it isn’t. why are you saying this, it’s never mattered to you before.”
“but it matters now.”
“why?”
“because everyone keeps saying the same thing.”
“so because thousands of people you’ve never met think they know me, you suddenly don’t?” you asked, letting out a tired breath.
“i didn’t say that.”
“you didn’t have to.”
“i’m just trying to understand.” he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“so ask me, don’t accuse me.” you shook your head as his jaw clenched.
“i just think it’s strange, you never want expensive dates.”
“i know you don’t like them.”
“you always insist on staying inside.” he continued.
“because we can actually be normal.” you sighed, exasperated.
“you never let me buy you gifts.”
you let out a tiny, confused laugh.
“michael, what are you talking about.”
“i’m just saying, maybe you’ve figured out that if you don’t ask for anything, then i’ll never notice how much i’m giving.”
you stared at him, your smile disappearing completely, too stunned to speak.
“i pay whenever we go out and for holidays.” he pointed out.
“because you insist, you know i’ve offered to contribute.”
“you know you can’t.” he deadpanned, his voice not even angry anymore, instead it sounded certain, as if he’d already made up his mind.
“i don’t understand.” you choked out.
“i think you do.”
“no, i genuinely don’t.” your voice was now shaking.
“you’ve got a pretty comfortable life because of me.”
“a comfortable life?” you let out a bitter laugh in disbelief, “are you serious?”
“you don’t have to worry about things normal students worry about.”
your mouth opened then closed again as you struggled to find words to express your disbelief.
“you think… you think my life is comfortable?”
“you know what i mean.” michael brushed off.
“no, i really don’t.” you repeated, a tear escaped before you could stop it.
“you don’t have rent hanging over your head.”
“i pay my own rent.” you stared at him.
“i know.”
“no, i don’t think you do,” you took a step closer watching him frown before continuing.
“i’ve never asked you to pay my rent, my tuition, to buy my groceries. i’ve never asked you for clothes or for jewellery.”
only silence followed as another tear rolled down your face.
“so tell me. what exactly have i taken from you?” your voice cracked as his built up frustration finally snapped.
“you’ve taken away my ability to know whether someone actually loves me!”
your breathing hitched, the words echoing around the apartment.
“i don’t know if you love me, or if you love what my career gives you.” he finished, his voice quieter now.
everything inside you stopped as you thought back to the months you had spent defending him, ignoring comments and believing that as long as the two of you trusted each other then none of it mattered, and yet, he had chose to believe them over you. you looked at him for a long time, searching desperately for the man you loved, the man who would lean his head on your shoulder whilst he watched you study, waiting for him to laugh and apologise, to reveal that it was all a prank, but he never did instead he just stood there waiting as though an answer could somehow undo everything he had just said.
“so after everything, you really think i’d sell my love for your money?” you smiled sadly, your voice barely audible, “i think…” you wiped your cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie, one that he’d left at your flat weeks ago. “i think that’s the saddest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
michael stayed silent and that was enough for you.
“okay.”
“…okay?” michael frowned.
“if that’s genuinely what you think of me…” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “then there’s nothing left to say.”
at this you slipped your keys into your pocket, grabbed your bag, quickly shoving your old textbooks into it, hands shaking, and walked past him. he didn’t stop you and you didn’t expect him to as the door clicked shut and the apartment drowned in painful silence.
the breakup hit the internet within days, how people knew you were unsure, but you didn’t care to bother finding out, as speculation exploded. michael had barely left his apartment, telling himself that you both just needed space, one of you would apologise and things would somehow go back to normal, instead the internet exploded all over again because someone had photographed him leaving a restaurant with a famous influencer. they had simply bumped into each other, she had smiled and he’d smiled back, the headline however said other things.
MICHAEL OLISE MOVES ON JUST DAYS AFTER SPLIT.
he knew he should’ve corrected it but instead he stayed silent and then she messaged him.
‘since everyone’s already talking, do u fancy actually getting dinner?’
his mind was swarmed with emotions, he was lonely, heartbroken, angry and confused, so he said yes, and without realising it, he started trying to replace the one person who’d never needed replacing.
you saw the pictures while stocking shelves during your supermarket shift, one of your coworkers had come up to you, hesitating before speaking.
“you don’t have to answer if this is awkward, but isn’t that you ex?” she asked, moving her phone screen into your view.
you looked down and sure enough there he was, laughing, the influencer resting her hand on his upper arm, dressed in designer with a perfect smile. you stared at it for exactly three seconds before turning your attention back to the shelves.
“uh yeah.”
“i’m sorry.” your coworker looked at you sympathetically.
“it is what it is.” you forced a smile as you carried on stacking cereal boxes.
the second you reached the stockroom you cried so hard your legs gave way and you had to sit on the rough floor. you cried not because he had moved on but because it had happened so quickly it made you wonder whether you’d ever actually really mattered at all.
months passed by and the internet adored michael’s new relationship. they loved seeing how expensive and effortlessly perfect everything looked, from luxury holidays and fashion weeks to magazine covers as society quickly deemed them a ‘power couple’. michael smiled in photographs but every smile felt fake as he couldn’t help but think back to you. every expensive restaurant reminded him of your tiny kitchen, and every oversized bouquet of luxury roses reminded him of the wildflowers you had once picked from the side of a road because you decided that they were prettier than the ones in the florist.
one evening, after training, he limped slightly into his apartment, his hamstring had been tight and playing up all session. he dropped his bag by the door causing his girlfriend to look up briefly from the sofa.
“oh, you’re back.”
“mhm, my leg’s bothering me.” he muttered as she hummed absentmindedly, scrolling through her phone. “can you help me put some ice on it?”
“… can’t the physios do that?” she asked, looking genuinely confused.
“they did. i just…” he hesitated, “i wanted you.”
“oh.” she shrugged. “i’ve literally just done my skincare though.” then she looked back down at her screen before continuing, “can you order food?”
“i don’t really feel like takeaway,” he stated.
“so cook.”
“i’ve just trained for three hours.”
“and?”
michael stared at her, blinking, and without another word, he walked into the kitchen. it was spotless, cold and empty, no pans on the stove, no music playing lowly, no one there to ask how training had gone, no arms wrapping around his waist while he looked through the fridge. for the first time, he realised he couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged him first without having to be asked, and suddenly the silence in his apartment replicated that of the silence he’d simmered in months ago.
a couple weeks later he decided to stop by the café near the training ground on his way home. the girl serving him smiled in recognition.
“you’re michael right?”
he nodded politely before she continued.
“you used to come here with y/n.”
michael’s heart tightened before he cleared his throat and replied.
“yeah.”
“she still works here.” the girl informed him causing his eyebrows to furrow.
“still?”
“yeah and she’s been doing doubles lately poor thing.”
“doubles?” he asked confused.
“here in the mornings, supermarket all night and then university in the midst of all that, i don’t know how she does it.” the women sighed.
“night shifts?” michael frowned.
“well yes, she’s been struggling since rent went up, you know how it is. she refuses help, claims she wants to earn everything herself, stubborn girl.”
michael couldn’t breathe, she’d never told him about night shifts. his curiosity got the better of him but it quickly became horror filled guilt as he asked one of her university friends about it and they just looked at him confused.
“you didn’t know.”
“know what?”
“she barely sleeps, works nearly every day and half the time she skipped lunch because she couldn’t afford campus food.”
michael’s stomach dropped as the friend continued, laughing sadly.
“honestly? we kept telling her to let you help, but she’d always say the same thing ‘he’s my boyfriend, not my bank account.” she smiled softly at the memory.
michael felt sick to his stomach as he replayed every conversation in his mind, every time they’d gone out for dinner and you’d ordered the cheapest thing. every birthday gift you’d continuously apologise for not being expensive, every hoodie you’d hand stitched when it got a hole instead of replacing. he realised now that with every tiny act of love, none of it had been about money, it never had and instead he had destroyed everything because strangers had convinced him the women who he loved and who loved him, didn’t.
michael broke up with the influencer that night.
“so…” she crossed her arms, barely looking upset, “who keeps the apartment?”
michael scoffed and stared watching her shrug as he almost laughed, not because it was funny but because somehow it proved everything he had been worried about with you.
you opened your apartment door late one night, still wearing your supermarket uniform, dark circles under your eyes, hair tied messily, exhaustion taking over your whole body and when you looked up and saw him your smile disappeared.
“why are you here?”
“i was wrong.” He choked out, gaining no response from you, “so unbelievably wrong.”
“you accused me of using you.” you folded your arms, staring him down.
“i know.”
“you made me feel disgusting.”
“i know.” he repeated hanging his head in shame.
“you made me question whether you ever even loved or trusted me.”
“i know, and i deserve every bit of your anger.” he spoke, tears filling his eyes, as he continued.
“i found out.”
“about what?”
“the jobs.” he said watching your expression change instantly.
“who told you.” you asked defensively.
“it doesn’t matter, you were working yourself into the ground.”
“i had bills.” you pointed out obviously.
“you never asked me.”
“and i was never going to.”
“why?”
“because i loved you.” you told him, looking at him like the answer was obvious, “you were my boyfriend, not my wallet, i never wanted your money. i wanted you.” your voice cracked as michael broke completely.
“i’m sorry. i’m so so sorry. i let strangers tell me who you were, i stopped believing the person standing right infront of me. i hurt you, i hurt the only person who ever loved me without wanting anything but love back.”
he was crying now, crying harder than you had ever seen as he stepped closer to you. you wanted to stay angry, you really did but this was the man who used to kiss your forehead while you studied, the man who remembered your coffee order, the man who danced terribly in your kitchen when you were down just so he could see the smile that he missed. this was the man who had made the worst mistake of his life, and knew it.
“i don’t know if i can trust you.” you confessed.
“i’ll earn it.”
“i don’t know if things can go back.”
“they don’t have to.” he whispered, “we can build something new.”
“okay.” you murmured nodding your head as tears welled in your eyes.
“can i hug you?” he asked quietly.
“you never had to ask before.”
“i know but i wanted to this time.”
you smiled softly before stepping into his arms as he held you tightly in a way that felt as if he would never let go, your head against his chest and his lips resting against your hair.
“i’m never letting other people decide what you mean to me again.”
chapter one
next chapter
what they don’t know masterlist
désiré doué x female reader
note: this chapter feels a bit bad and wattpad-esque but i promise it will get better!
clairefontaine had always felt like a home of sorts, no matter how many clubs you played for, or how many stadiums you stepped into, nothing could replicate the familiar feeling of representing your country. you had been coming back regularly since you were seventeen and every time you came back you were reminded all over again for why you fell in love with football in the first place.
this summer was different though as the women’s squad prepared to leave for brazil for the world cup, whilst at the same time, the men’s squad were gathered at clairefontaine for their own international break before returning to their clubs.
this meant that for a few days, both teams shared the same training base meaning breakfasts became louder gyms busier. there were often footballs flying around every corridor and someone was always trying to start a game of one touch in places they definitely shouldn’t, it was chaos, but it felt like home.
you had just finished up training for the day when you wandered into the recovery room heading towards the fridge, a wet towel slung around your neck as you caught your breath. before you could even reach the fridge, a bottle of water was placed neatly in your hands. you looked up only to come face to face with désiré doué.
“were you standing there waiting for me?” you asked, teasingly.
“i knew you’d forget to grab one,” he shrugged, trying and failing, to look casual.
“i wouldn’t have.”
“you absolutely would have.”
“i remembered my boots this morning.” you smiled as if it proved anything.
“barely, you left them outside your room.”
“and then i came back for them.”
“only after the kit man reminded you.” he pointed out causing you to roll your eyes and sigh dramatically as you leaned against the counter, taking a sip of water.
“you weren’t bad today.” you told him.
“’weren’t bad?’” désiré’s eyebrows raised.
“i’m feeling generous,” you shrugged.
“i scored twice.”
“so did i.”
“you had one goal.”
“it was a very nice goal.” you confessed causing him to laugh.
“you are impossible.”
“oi.”
the two of you looked up to find michael olise walking into the room as he glanced between you and désiré.
“there you are.”
“what?” désiré frowned.
“i’ve been looking for you.”
“oh.”
“you weren’t in the gym, the dining hall, or the lounge.”
“no?”
“so naturally…” michael’s eyes landed on you as he folded his arms, “you were here.”
you tried to hide your smile as désiré scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
“i just came to get water.”
“mhm.” michael nodded slowly, clearly not believing him.
“you know,” he continued casually, “it’s actually quite impressive.”
“what is?” you asked.
“the fact that neither of you ever has to wonder where the other one is.”
“what do you mean?” you frowned.
“i mean…” michael gestured between the two of you looking genuinely confused, “you always find each other.”
silence followed as he took this as a cue to carry on.
“i’ve watched you all week and if one of you disappears, well the other one’s usually gone about thirty seconds later.”
you looked at désiré only to find he was already looking at you as michael smiled to himself.
“i’m just making an observation, it’s actually quite sweet.” he laughed.
“we’re friends,” you replied.
“i know,” michael nodded, “i’m not saying otherwise. i’m just saying that i’ve never seen either of you walk into a room without checking if the other’s already there.”
neither you nor désiré answered, because he wasn’t wrong. you’d never noticed that you did it, but now that he’d said it, it felt impossible to ignore.
“coach is looking for you.” michael clapped désiré on the shoulder.
“coming.” désiré nodded as he began walking away.
“you know…” michael smiled glancing back at you, “you two make saying goodbye tomorrow look like it’s going to be very difficult.”
that evening at dinner, both squads ate together, the atmosphere overflowing with excitement and nerves as didier deschamps stood first, congratulating the women’s squad on qualifying, wished luck and reminded everyone that representing france was a privilege. Then laurent bonadei spoke about responsibility, belief in the self and enjoying the tournament. by the time the speeches ended, the room had erupted into applause.
the corridors of clairefontaine had long fallen quiet with most of the player’s already in bed. sleep should’ve come easy, you had an early flight in the morning but instead you found yourself sitting on the edge of one of the empty training pitches, your legs dangling over the advertising boards as you watched the floodlight illuminate the grass.
“you disappear every time you’re nervous.”
“i was wondering how long it’d take for you to find me.” you smiled before you had even turned around.
“i checked three places.” désiré shrugged as he walked over.
“only three?”
“i knew you’d be here.”
he dropped down beside you, his shoulders brushing yours as neither of you moved away. for a while, you just sat there in silence, not awkward, just comfortable, it had always been like this, sometimes the two of you could spend half an hour together without saying a word.
“you excited?” he asked.
“terrified.” you nodded.
“you’ll be fine.”
“you always say that.”
“because it’s always true.” he states simply, causing you to roll your eyes playfully.
“you know, one day i’m actually going to have a bad game.”
“i doubt it.” he looked at you.
“true, you’ve never seen me have one.”
“i’ve seen you miss open goals.”
“i missed one.” you gasped dramatically.
“it was very funny.”
“it was not funny.”
“i laughed.”
“you laugh at everything.”
at this he laughed quietly, as you tried to engrain the sound into your mind, missing him already and you hadn’t even left yet.
“you’ll call me?” you asked casually, like you always did.
“obviously.” he nodded.
“no disappearing.”
“i won’t disappear.”
“you promise?”
“i promise.”
you looked at him for a second, “you better.”
“i will.” he assured as the conversation drifted into silence again.
your hand found his without thinking as his fingers laced with yours instinctively, neither of you acknowledging it due to the naturalness of the action.
“you know, i’m going to miss this.” you murmured.
“so am i.” he spoke lowly, looking down at your joined hands.
“so come here.” you turned towards him.
“bossy.” an amused grin spread across his face.
“you like it.” you teased, wagging your eyebrows.
“i love it.” he admitted with a laugh before leaning over to close the gap between you.
the kiss was effortless, like all the ones before had been, there was no hesitation as your lips connected, the feeling of his eyelashes fluttering against your cheek whilst your hands made their way to the back of his neck, pulling slightly at his curls. your lips parted naturally as he slipped his tongue into your mouth brushing it against your own causing you to let out a breathy moan as he held onto you tightly like he was scared you might run away. when you finally pulled away, lips swollen, catching your breath, he rested his forehead gently against yours before speaking.
“i’ll miss this.” he repeated as you pecked his lips again causing him to smile against them.
“you’ve got, what like three weeks?” you rationalised.
“three weeks too many.” he complained.
“you’ll survive.” you laughed softly.
“barely.”
“you are so dramatic.” you rolled your eyes.
“i’m in love.”
you heart stuttered as the words hung in the air for a second before he smiled slightly.
“i mean…” he rubbed the back of his neck.
“i know,” you assured.
you both laughed as the moment passed, but neither of you missed it, nor did either of you try to correct what he had said, because the words were always settled in the back of your minds but fear of ruin held you both back.
you leaned over and kissed him again, a little longer this time as if somehow that would make the next few weeks any easier. when you finally stood up, to head back to your room he caught your wrist gently.
“hey.”
you turned back to face him.
“come back to me.”
the smile on your face faltered slightly.
“i always do.”
“i know.” he nodded.
“i’ll call you,” you told him, squeezing his hand once more before letting go.
“i’ll answer.”
“i know.”
“i’ll answer every time.”
you smiled one last time before disappearing back inside as désiré watched until the doors closed behind you, neither of you knowing that the promise made would become the promise that haunted you both for months to come.
the next morning, the entire men’s squad stood outside the training centre as the women’s team boarded the coach, cheering, applauding and shouting words of encouragement. you climbed onto the coach before turning around one last time, your eyes finding désire’s almost immediately as he gave you a small salute.
“go make me proud.” he mouthed causing you to smile and nod.
as the coach pulled away and you watched clairefontaine disappear behind the trees, you had no idea that the next time you saw désiré everything between you would’ve changed.
what they don’t know (series)
désiré doué x female reader
plot summary: in which you go to brazil in hopes of bringing home the world cup but instead become football’s newest obsession and the centre of media’s attention whilst désiré lets jealousy and insecurities get the better of him as one broken promise threatens to change everything.
note: my first long fic, i’ve had this concept in my mind for a while so i hope it’s executed well and you enjoy.
masterlist
chapter index:
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
epilogue
guys i’m planning the chapters i hsve for a desire long fic and then i promise i will finish up my requests
treating third place match as the final and boycotting the actual final 🤷♀️🤷♀️🤷♀️
laporte cheering and being happy like this pmo so bad because he was literally born and raised in france like have some loyalty to ur country
Can you pliss do Jamal musiala x reader who is friends with his little sister and reader is little bit shy
lost in the silence
masterlist
fluff/angst
jamal musiala x female reader
note: thank u for ur request, i don’t know how old his sister is so pretend there is only like a year or two age gap!
you and jamal had known each other for almost three years. three years of him coming downstairs on a saturday morning to find you curled up on the sofa with his sister, laughing at something on her phone after a sleepover. three years of hearing your tiny ‘hi jamal’ before you would immediately look back down at what you were doing. three years of watching you blush whenever he looked at you for a second too long.
his sister always described you in the same way, claiming you were just shy, to give you time and that you were actually really funny once you were comfortable. but that was the problem, you never seemed comfortable around him, as you somehow got even quieter every time he walked into a room. so, because he believed it was easier than admitting that he got nervous around you too, jamal started teasing you.
“so… have you hit your monthly world limit already?” he asked one time when it was just the two of you in his kitchen.
“no…” you would reply, smiling awkwardly as he carried on.
“hm, could’ve fooled me.”
another time you were eating dinner with his family when he suddenly turned in your direction.
“you know, i’ve never actually heard you finish a story.”
“i…” you couldn’t find the words to reply.
“you always stop halfway.” he continued laughing as his sister would roll her eyes and you’d laugh too, or at least he thought you were laughing.
if anyone had asked jamal why he teased you so much, he’d never have been able to admit the truth. the truth that he liked seeing your cheeks turn pink, that every tiny smile felt like he’d won the world over, that he wanted your attention, and that he liked you far more than he should’ve liked his little sister’s best friend. the problem was that jamal thought you understood, he thought his comments and jokes were harmless, he never noticed the way you’d started speaking even less when he was around out of fear of him noticing you and making a joke.
jamal’s sister decided to throw a party while their parents were away for the weekend, nothing huge, just close friends, you almost didn’t come, unsurprisingly crowded rooms had never been your thing, but his sister had begged so here you were.
music drifted through the house while people filled the kitchen and garden, laughing over drinks and conversations, as you stood awkwardly near the drinks table clutching your cup tightly in both hands trying not to feel out of place. jamal noticed you immediately, of course he did, he always had. he’d been planning all evening to work up the courage to actually have a proper conversation with you and stop hiding behind the jokes, however his thoughts were quickly cut short as he watched someone else walk over first. a boy he’d vaguely recognised as one of his sisters friends from university made his way over to you, tall, confident and smiling, he said something to you that made you laugh, actually laugh, and then you started talking, not just answering but talking enthusiastically to the point where your hands moved as you spoke and you smiled properly. the boy leaned against the counter, his body turned towards yours, clearly interested.
“since when does she do that?” jamal frowned as his sister looked over before following his gaze.
“oh…” she smiled knowingly, “i think ethan likes her.”
“what?”
“and i think she likes him too.” she continued.
“no.” jamal uttered, his stomach tightening at the thought.
“what do you mean, no?” his sister asked, raising an eyebrow.
“nothing” he brushed off.
except it wasn’t nothing because he’d spent months convincing himself you were just shy, yet here you were chatting away with another guy like you’d known him forever. you were laughing and smiling, looking happier than he’d ever seen you around him as something hot and ugly settled in his chest and before he’d even realised he’d moved, he was walking towards you.
you looked up just as jamal reached you.
“oh.” your smile faded slightly, “hi.”
he looked between you and ethan.
“so…” he folded his arms across his chest before continuing, “you do talk.”
your face fell immediately.
“…what?” you forced out.
“i was beginning to think you physically couldn’t.”
ethan looked awkwardly between the two of you and jamal continued before he could stop himself.
“guess i was wrong.”
you stared at him, silence filling the space.
“…i…” you stammered.
“you’ve said more words in five minutes to him than you have to me in three years.”
jamal laughed lightly expecting you to roll your eyes, maybe tease him back, but instead you looked completely humiliated.
“oh.” you whispered so quietly he almost didn’t hear.
“i, uh…” ethan scratched the back of his neck, looking between the two of you, “i’m gonna go grab another drink.”
ethan didn’t bother waiting for an answer, not sparing you a second glance and within seconds he had disappeared into the crowd as you watched him leave.
“there you go.” jamal smiled.
“what?” you asked.
“you scared him off.”
he meant it as a joke, a stupid joke, but the second the words left his mouth he realised you weren’t smiling and instead your eyes were fixed on the floor, fingers tightening around your cup.
“you…” your voice cracked slightly, “…you didn’t have to do that.”
jamal frowned.
“do what?”
“i was,” you swallowed hard, looking up at him, “i was actually having a nice conversation.”
his stomach sank as he saw the tears glistening in your eyes, threatening to slip down your cheek.
“i don’t… I don’t have those often.” you continued, “he was the first person all night who actually came over and spoke to me.”
every word felt like a punch to jamals gut as he blinked.
“and then…” you forced a laugh, “and then you reminded everyone why people think I’m weird.”
his heart stopped.
“what?”
“you always do.”
only silence followed as you looked up at him, eyes shining now.
“i know I’m quiet and that i get nervous but you don’t have to keep pointing it out.”
“i wasn’t-”
“you always do.” your voice was now barely above a whisper.
“everytime i’m here its always ‘wow you actually spoke’, ‘you know how to talk’, ‘you’re quiet’, ‘you’re shy’.” you laughed bitterly. “i get it, i’ve always been quiet, i don’t need reminding.”
jamal opened his mouth but the words wouldn’t come out.
“i wasn’t making fun of you.”
“it feels like you are.”
the words hit harder than anything he’d heard all night.
“i finally worked up the courage to talk to someone,” you looked towards where ethan had disappeared, “and now he probably thinks i’m pathetic.”
“he doesn’t.” jamal tried to say.
“you don’t know that.”
“i…”
“you embarrassed me.”
your eyes filled with tears.
“i really thought…” you shook your head. “never mind.”
“no, tell me.”
“i thought maybe he liked me.”
jamal felt something twist painfully in his chest.
“oh.”
you nodded once.
“but that’s over now.” you stated, placing your untouched drink on the counter. “i’m going home.”
“wait.” he moved infront of you desperately.
“please. i don’t want to cry in front of everyone.” you pleaded, stepping around him, and then you were gone.
jamal didn’t move, he simply stood there, his sister appearing besides him a minute later.
“what happened?”
he looked completely lost.
“i…” his voice barely worked. “i think she hates me.”
his sister sighed.
“no. she doesn’t hate you.”
“then why did she look at my like that?” he asked exasperated.
“because,” she started quietly, “she’s liked you for nearly two years.”
his head snapped towards her.
“what?”
“and every joke you’ve ever made, she thought you were laughing at her.” she finished, looking genuinely disappointed.
jamal felt sick. every blush, every quiet apology, every time you’d left early, every forced smile. he hadn’t been flirting, he’d been breaking your heart without even knowing it, and suddenly watching you walk out that front door felt like the biggest mistake he’d ever made.
jamal barely remembered leaving the kitchen. one second he was standing where you’d left him and the next he was outside, staring at the front gate that had already swung shut behind you.
“go after her,” his sister said quietly behind him.
he didn’t move, his chest felt tight.
“i’ve really messed this up, haven’t i?”
“i’ve been telling you for months.” she pointed out, folding her arms.
“i thought she knew i was joking.”
“she’s shy, jamal.”
“i know.”
“no,” she sighed. “you know she’s quiet, you don’t know what it’s like to be shy. she overthinks everything, and every time you’ve made a joke about her being quiet, she’s gone home asking me if she was annoying you.”
he closed his eyes.
“she asked if you only tolerated her because she’s my friend.”
“…stop.” he muttered.
“she asked if she should stop coming over.”
“stop.” he spoke, louder this time.
“i told her you were just an idiot.”
his eyes burned.
“i didn’t know.”
“i know, but she didn’t.”
jamal texted you.
‘can we please talk?’
‘i’m really sorry’
‘please.’
yet no response came.
the next day his sister came downstairs.
“she’s not answering me either.”
“what?”
“i think she’s embarrassed. she said she doesn’t really want to come over anymore.”
his chest tightened. the words hurting far worse than he expected.
a week passed and then another, the house feeling strangely empty. No shoes by the front door, no quiet laughing coming from his sister’s bedroom, no cups of tea abandoned around the house. whenever jamal came home from training he found himself automatically looking towards the sofa, but every time it was empty.
“you miss her.” his mum stated one evening, smiling knowingly.
he didn’t deny it.
“i hurt her.”
his mum reached over and squeezed his shoulder.
“then go and fix it.”
“i’ve tried.”
“try harder.”
his chance came almost three weeks later, his sister had convinced you to come over under one condition; ‘jamal won’t be home.’. he wasn’t supposed to be but training had finished early and as he walked through the front door, laughing with one of his teammates on the phone he looked up, freezing, to find you sitting on the sofa.
“i’ll call you later.” he said into the phone, hanging up, refusing to move his gaze from your presence.
the second your eyes met his you stood up.
“i should go.”
“no.”
his sister sighed dramatically, letting you know she was going upstairs but neither of you noticed her leave as attention was focused on you reaching for your coat.
“i really do have to-”
“i’m sorry.”
you stopped. Jamal stepped closer.
“i know saying sorry isn’t enough, but i’ve had three weeks to think about what i said.”
“and?” you asked.
“and i realised.” he laughed bitterly. “i’m an idiot.”
you looked down.
“you don’t have to say that.”
“i do. i thought i was flirting.”
that made you blink.
“what?”
“i wasn’t teasing you because i thought you were weird, i teased you because i never knew what else to say, you always looked so nervous around me i thought that if i made jokes, you’d relax.”
a sad smile spread across your face.
“it had the opposite effect.”
“i know. i know that now.” he admitted rubbing his hand over his face. “my sister told me everything.”
jamal watched as your expression immediately filled with horror.
“everything?...”
“you asked if i hated you.” he clarified whilst you looked like you wanted the floor to swallow you whole. “you thought i only put up with you because your friends with my sister. you almost stopped coming here because of me.”
s tear rolled down your cheek before you wiped it away.
“i didn’t want to make things awkward.”
“you never did.”
“i did.”
“you didn’t” he assured.
“you’re just trying to be nice.”
jamal’s heart broke as he asked “you really believe that.”
you shrugged weakly.
“why else would you keep pointing out how quiet i am?”
“i notice because i notice you.”
you looked confused so he continued.
“i notice when you’re here, when you’re not, when you’re tired when you’re smiling, i notice that you only drink tea if its got way too much sugar.”
a tiny smile appeared on your face and he noticed that too.
“i notice everything.”
“why?” you asked, your voice barely audible.
“because i’m completely gone for you.” he laughed softly.
“what?” your breath caught.
“i’ve liked you for ages, so long so that my teammates have started making fun of me because i somehow bring you into every conversation, but i thought you liked that boy?”
“ethan?” you asked, staring at him as he nodded causing you to actually laugh before continuing. “he was nice, but, he wasn’t you.”
at this jamal felt like he’d forgotten how to breathe.
“i only talked to him because it’s easier to talk to people i’m not trying to impress.” you confessed, looking away.
“you were trying to impress me?” he wonders, eyebrows raised.
“i’ve been trying to for about two years.”
“you’ve got to be kidding me.”
you shook your head.
“i thought if i talked too much you’d think i was annoying,”
“and i thought if i teased you, you’d realise i liked you.”
you both stood there for a second then for the first time in weeks you both laughed properly.
“i need you to know something.” his smile slowly faded as you looked at him. “i’m never going to joke about you being quiet again, if you’re comfortable speaking, i’ll listen. if you’re not, then we can just sit together. you never have to force yourself to be louder for me.” he smiled gently.
“no one’s ever said that to me before.” you told him, your eyes filling again.
he took one cautious step closer.
“you don’t have to become someone else just because i’m in the room.”
his hand hesitated between your bodies and only when you slowly placed yours in it did he finally let himself hold it.
“i’m really sorry.”
“i know.”
“i made you cry.”
“you did.”
“i’ll spend however long it takes making it up to you.”
you looked down at your intertwined hands.
“i don’t want you to spend forever making it up to me.”
“no?”
i just want you to stop making me think you hate me.” you smiled shyly as he squeezed your hand.
“i don’t think i could hate you if i tried, i’d much rather kiss you.”
your cheeks immediately turned pink.
“you… you’d what?”
“i’d much rather kiss you.” he stated simply waiting just long enough for you to nod, almost imperceptibly, before closing the remaining distance.
the kiss was soft and tentative, his lips brushed yours, locking, almost hesitantly as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he moved too quickly. when he pulled away, your forehead rested against his.
“you know,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips, “i think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me.”
your eyes widened for half a second as he immediately raised both hands, his face filled with panic desperately trying to take back his statement before you burst into laughter, real laughter, the kind that made your shoulders shake as jamal stared at you in disbelief.
“you are never living this down,” you giggled.
“i nearly ruined my own confession.”
“you really did.”
“i was trying so hard.” jamal groaned dramatically.
“i know.” you said reaching up and brushing your thumb against his cheek. “but this time, i know you’re laughing with me.”
“always.” he kissed your forehead.
hey girl! Love your wiring pls can you write something for Jude Bellingham next 💞💞
at first glance
masterlist
fluff
jude bellingham x female reader
plot summary: in which reader is the sister of a barcelona player and jude spots her in the el clasico crowd.
note: thank u for the request, this is my first time writing for jude. i didn’t put a specific barcelona player so u can imagine anyone or even ur own brother it doesn’t matter!
the santiago bernabéu was deafening as eighty thousand madrid supporters filled every seat, white shirts stretching as far as the eye could see, whilst cameras swept across the crowd and fireworks exploded over the roof. you hadn’t wanted to come, not because you didn’t support your brother, you did, but the idea of sitting in the away section at the bernabéu during an el clásico wasn’t exactly appealing.
you sat several rows behind barcelona’s bench in the family section, nervously pulling the sleeves of your oversized barça jacket over your hands as you leaned over the barrier smiled at your brother as he jogged onto the pitch, spotting you almost immediately.
“there she is!” he shouted, pointing at you as if you were a rare species, causing you to roll your eyes dramatically before blowing him a sarcastic kiss as he laughed.
across the pitch, jude looked over at the sound of the commotion, his eyes naturally following where the barcelona player was pointing. standing beside him vinícius frowned watching his now distracted teammate. jude was staring, not rudely just simply caught off guard. you were laughing at something the player had said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as the evening breeze caught it, you weren’t taking selfies for instagram or trying to get on the stadium screens, instead you looked like you genuinely only cared about supporting him, whoever he was to you.
“…jude.”
“hm?”
vinícius followed his line of sight, realisation settling in.
“ohhh”
“what?”
“the barcelona player’s sister?”
“…his sister?” jude blinked.
“you didn’t know that?”
“no.”
“well you’ve been staring for about twenty seconds.” vinícius smirked.
“i have not.” jude tried to deny, forcing himself to look away, however not even five seconds later his eyes had drifted back to you, your legs now tucked beneath your seat as you spoke animatedly to an older women besides you, your smile so bright that even from halfway across the pitch he could make it out. there was something about you that made the rest of the stadium disappear.
jude tried to shake himself of the distractions as the referee blew his whistle for kick-off, except it wasn’t easy and in every break of play he found himself glancing towards the family section, almost checking to make sure you were still there. every time he looked over he would find you sat at the edge of your seat completely engrossed in the match, celebrating your brother’s tackles and groaning whenever madrid got close ot goal. one time, after vinícius missed a near open goal, jude watched you cover your mouth to hide a laugh and without meaning to he smiled too.
by the seventieth minute the match was still level, a goal yet to be scored, but in a short moment as vinícius travelled down the wing sending in a low cross to jude arriving in the box who took one touch allowing the ball to plumet into the bottom corner.
the bernabéu exploded, his teammates sprinting towards him, arms outstretched, ready to jump on him, but before they could reach him his head turned instinctively, in the same direction it had all match, towards the family section in the away end, towards you. you looked frozen, and without thinking, jude smiled before pointing towards your section whilst tapping the badge over his heart. the cameras caught everything and within minutes, social media was in a frenzy.
‘WHO WAS JUDE POINTING AT?’
‘im actually seething with jealousy rn’
‘wait zoom in… THAT’S BARCELONA PLAYER’S SISTER.’
‘HE JUST SCORED IN EL CLASICO AND DEDICATED IT TO HER??? lord when will it be my turn?’
you however, simply stared at the pitch, completely speechless as your brother’s girlfriend grabbed your arm.
“i swear that was at you, it literally couldn’t have been at anyone else” she stated gleaming with excitement.
“it wasn’t.” you assured, the words more for yourself than her. your heart was racing, you’d never met jude bellingham, you’d never even been to an el clasico before, so why had he looked at you like that, and why did a small part of you hope you’d get that chance to ask him.
the final whistle came far too quickly for your liking with real madrid winning 1-0. unsurprisingly the berabéu erupted into chaotic celebration while the barcelona players dropped to their knees, exhausted and frustrated. you watched on as your brother rubbed a hand over his face before applauding the travelling fans, you too now stood with the rest of the family section, clapping the players efforts, despite the loss.
“i still think he was looking at you,” your brother’s girlfriend whispered as everyone began filing towards the stairs causing you to sigh.
“he wasn’t” you denied.
“he pointed.”
“to the fans.”
“he pointed directly at our section.”
“there are like three hundred people here.”
“and you’re sat in the middle.”
you opened your mouth to argue when someone called out behind you.
“excuse me?”
You turned around to find a young stadium steward stood there, looking slightly flustered, not knowing what to do with himself.
“sorry… are you…” he glanced down at the paper in his hand before looking back up. “the sister of barcelona player?”
“yes?” you replied.
“jude bellingham was wondering if you’d mind waiting a few minutes.” he smiled awkwardly as only silence followed whilst your brother’s girlfriend’s jaw practically hit the floor.
“um i’m sorry?”
“he asked if someone could let you know.”
you hadn’t even fully processed what had just happened when your brother emerged from the tunnel still looking annoyed about the result.
“you ready?” he asked hurriedly.
“i…” you stammered out.
“what?” your brother frowned.
“the steward said,” you pointed vaguely to the young man behind you, “that jude bellingham wants to speak to me.”
“what?” he stopped in his tracks.
“he asked me to wait.” you continued.
your brother looked towards the steward who nodded quickly.
“mr bellingham specifically asked for her.” he clarified.
“…why?” he asked the steward who now looked slightly terrified.
“i don’t know, sir.”
your brother sighed dramatically before collapsing into one of the stadium seats.
“i guess we’ll wait and find out then.”
five minutes later, the stadium had emptied considerably, while you sat awkwardly on one of the plastic seats, your brother slouched beside you with his arms folded, neither of you speaking. then footsteps echoed through the stands causing you both to look up to find jude. He’d changed into a white real madrid tracksuit, his hair still damp from the shower and the closer he got, you noticed, the more nervous he seemed to be, as he slowed to stop a few feet away from you.
“hi.” his voice was quieter than you’d expected.
“hi.” you replied as jude looked between you and your brother.
“… can i steal her for a minute?” he asked.
“no.”
“be nice.” you nudged your brother with your elbow.
your brother sighed dramatically before standing up.
“i’m getting food.” he then turned to pointed at jude before leaving, “you’ve got five minutes.”
as soon as your brother had disappeared around the corner, silence settled between the two of you as jude nervously rubbed the back of his neck.
“so…”
“so.” you repeated after him.
“i’ve never actually done this before.”
“what?”
“walked into the away section after a classico.”
you laughed as he continued.
“it feels terrifying.”
“you’re brave.” you complimented.
“i scored the winner.” jude stated smugly.
“you did.”
“this is scarier.”
that made you laugh properly, the sound of your laugh seemingly making him relax.
“okay, that was my main goal.” he said.
“what?”
“making you laugh.”
you tilted your head as he nodded, almost as if he was signalling himself to speak.
“i know this is going to sound strange.”
“i’ll hear you out.”
“i’d never seen you before today, i swear.”
“i believe you.” you smiled.
“but then i looked over during warm-ups because your brother was shouting…”
“…and?”
“…and you were there,” his cheeks turned faintly pink as your heart skipped a beat, “and then i couldn’t stop looking.”
“you couldn’t”
“i tried.” he shook his head.
“you were supposed to be warming up and concentrating.”
“i know.”
“you definitely weren’t.” you stated.
“i definitely wasn’t” he agreed earning another laugh from you that caused him to smile again.
“i thought maybe i was imagining it.” you admitted.
“the eye contact?”
“the smiling.”
“what about the goal celebration?”
your eyebrows lifted.
“…that was really for me?” you asked as jude looked at the ground for a second before meeting your eyes again.
“yeah, it was.”
“why?”
“i don’t know.” he shrugged sheepishly.
“you don’t know?”
“i just scored, and then I looked up,” he smiled before continuing, “and there you were.”
“i’ve never even spoken to you before.” you pointed out.
“i know.”
“you don’t know anything about me.”
“i know.”
“and you dedicated an el clasico goal to me?”
“when you say it out loud, it sounds ridiculous.” he laughed.
“it kind of is.”
you couldn’t stop smiling and neither could he.
“i’ve probably made a complete fool of myself.” jude spoke quieter this time.
“i don’t think so.”
“no?”
“i think it’s…” you hesitated, looking for the right word, “sweet.”
jude’s shoulders visibly relaxed.
“so…” he said after a moment. “can i ask you something?”
“go on.” you nodded.
“would it be incredibly inappropriate if i asked for your number?”
you pretended to think about it, watching his expression fall slightly.
“hm, maybe.”
“oh.”
“i mean you did score against my brother.” you pondered.
“he’ll never forgive you.”
“you’ve made my life difficult, so…” you held your hand out. “give me your phone.”
“seriously?” his face lit up immediately.
“before i change my mind.”
he fumbled it out of his pocket so quickly that you couldn’t help laughing. you typed your number into his contacts before handing the phone back watching him stare at the screen as though making sure it was real.
“you actually gave it to me.”
“i did.”
“i was convinced you were going to say no.”
“i considered it.”
“you did?”
“for about two seconds.”
“i’ll take it.”
your own phone buzzed as you looked down to see messages from an unknown number.
‘hi’
‘it’s jude’
‘just checking you didn’t accidently give me your brother’s number instead.’
you burst out laughing as he looked at you hopefully.
“good response?”
“i suppose it’ll do.”
he grinned before a voice interrupted from behind.
“i leave for six minutes and you’re already texting each other?” your brother stated, returning with two bottles of water.
you froze, jude looked impossibly guilty whilst your brother just sighed dramatically.
“unbelievable.”
“it’s just my number,” you defended.
“mhm.”
“we’ve barely spoken.”
“mhm.”
“i don’t even know if i like him.”
at this jude tried very hard not to smile and your brother noticed.
“you wipe that grin off your face.”
“i’m trying.”
“you don’t look like you’re trying.”
“i promise i am.” jude held his hands up in mock defence.
there was a moment of silence before your brother looked between the two of you and then sighed again.
“if you’re going to take my sister out,” he watched as jude straightened instantly, “you’d better treat her properly.”
“i will.” jude nodded.
“no messing her around.”
“i wouldn’t.”
“no stupid headlines.”
“never.” he assured as your brother studied him carefully, jude never looking away when finally your brother nodded once.
“good.”
as your brother walked ahead towards the exit, you and jude lingered behind.
“so…” he said.
“so?”
“when are you going back to barcelona?”
“tomorrow morning.”
“oh.” his smile faded.
“but…” you watched him look up hopefully, “madrid isn’t that far, and footballers travel a lot.”
“they do.”
“and i suppose i could visit.”
“i’d like that.” he smiled so brightly that you felt your own cheeks warm.
“good.”
which fic should i post this morning??
jude bellingham x female reader (fluff)
jamal musiala x female reader (fluff/angst)
I'm terrible with requests but I would love it if you wrote literally anything Doue. I love your writing so so much <3
in the midst of it all
masterlist
fluff
désiré doué x female reader
plot summary: in which you and désiré doué continuously run into each other in the physio room of the olympic games.
note: thank u for ur request, i’ve had this idea in my head for a while now so i hope you enjoy it!
the first time you met désiré doué you were stretched out on one of the treatment tables in the physio room, your left hamstring wrapped in ice after tweaking it during a block-start session.
“it isn’t serious,” the physio assured you.
“i know.”
“you don’t look convinced.”
“because the olympics are in three days.” you pointed out as the physio gave you a sympathetic smile before being called away to another athlete.
you let out a slow breath and leaned your head back against the pillow, the curtains besides you rustling.
“are they always this optimistic?”
you spun your head in the direction of the voice to find a young man sat on the next treatment bed with his ankle elevated, an ice pack strapped to it, his curls slightly damp with sweat, and despite looking tired, he was smiling.
“you were eavesdropping?” you asked.
“i wasn’t trying to.” the man held his hands up in mock defence.
“you definitely were.”
he laughed accepting defeat.
“i was.”
it was only now that you recognised the man infront of you as désiré doué.
“you play for france.” you acknowledged.
“and you run.” he hit back at you.
you frowned.
“you know who i am?” you asked.
“i watched the world athletic championship.”
that caught you off guard.
“i didn’t know footballers watched athletics.”
“i don’t,” he shrugged “i watched you.”
but before you could think of a response, his physio returned.
“ready?”
“i suppose.” désiré sighed dramatically, glancing back at you as he stood up.
“good luck with the hamstring.”
“you too.”
“hopefully i’ll see you somewhere that isn’t this room.” he joked causing you to smile.
“i hope not.”
the next morning you were back for some preventative treatment and as you rounded the corner into the physio room, you spotted désiré sat on one of the treatment tables looking up as you entered the room.
“you again.”
“i could say the same thing.”
he patted the empty chair beside him.
“i think we should get loyalty cards at this point.”
you laughed, sitting down.
“i’d rather not come often enough to earn one.”
the two of you spent the next twenty minutes talking about anything and everything while your physios worked. you learned that he hated ice baths whilst he discovered that you secretly enjoyed them and he teased you relentlessly for this.
“you’re weird.”
“they’re relaxing.”
“they’re torture.” he claimed, placing a hand over his chest as you rolled your eyes.
“you’re so dramatic.”
somehow, the physio room became your shared space, not intentionally, instead it just happened. if your treatment finished first, you’d wait five minutes until désiré was ready, if his did, he’d pretend to scroll through his phone until you’d emerged. quickly, the conversations carried on outside of the room through coffee after appointments, walking back through the village together and even dinner if your schedules aligned.
“you nervous?”
the question came the evening before your 400m heats as you and désiré were sat on the steps outside the accommodation blocks, watching athletes wander back from training.
“a bit.” you replied.
“a bit?”
“a lot.”
he nodded understandingly.
“i get that.”
you rested your elbows on your knees turning away from him.
“what if all this work has been for nothing?” you asked, doubt filling your chest.
“it hasn’t.” he assured quickly.
“what if i mess up?”
“you won’t.”
“you don’t know that.”
désiré gently grabbed your jaw, turning your face so that you were now looking at him.
“no, but i know you’ll give everything you’ve got and for what it’s worth that’s what matters the most.”
you qualified comfortably from your heat, then your semi-final your confidence slowly returning. désiré had his own matches to prepare for, so you barely saw each other over the next couple of days asides from a quick wave across the dining hall and the occasional text, nothing more, making you realise that you missed him more than you expected.
the night before your final, you stopped by the physio room one last time for a recovery session. you were halfway through stretching when you heard familiar laughter causing you to smile instinctively. désiré. however, you looked up to find him talking to another athlete, a french gymnast. your face fell when she nudged his shoulder and he laughed as she reached up to fix a loose curl that had fallen over his forehead. the gesture looked comfortable and natural, and in your eyes, far more comfortable than any interaction he had ever had with you. you looked away before he could notice you, your stomach tightening as your heart pounded. you told yourself that you had no right to feel disappointed, he wasn’t yours, the two of you had never even spoken about whatever was going on between you, but still it hurt more than it should have, so you left.
your final went well, better than you’d ever dared to imagine, you crossed the line second earning olympic silver. everything around you; the medal ceremony, interviews, photos, drug testing all passed in a blur, but somewhere in the midst of it all you found yourself scanning every crowd you walked past looking for désiré, but he wasn’t there. you told yourself he was probably busy, football had its own schedule, its own commitments, you couldn’t expect him to drop everything for you, but still a small part of you couldn’t shake the disappointment.
the next morning you spotted him across the dining hall, your eyes meeting for barely a second before you smiled instinctively unprepared for how he would look away. your stomach dropped, maybe you’d imagined everything and perhaps spending time together had meant more to you than it ever had to désiré. so, you picked up your tray and left before he had the chance to look back.
across the room, désiré watched you go.
“she definitely hates me now,” he muttered causing his teammate to frown.
“what are you talking about?”
“i texted her after the final.”
“and?” his teammate urged.
“nothing.” désiré mumbled still wallowing in the disappointment.
“maybe she was busy.”
“she just walked away.”
for two days, you both somehow managed to avoid each other. not intentionally at first however it quickly became easier not to risk another awkward interaction. the physio room felt strangely quiet without désiré’s presence, and you often caught yourself looking towards the chair he usually sat in that now stayed empty. even winning an olympic medal couldn’t distract you from wondering what had changed.
on the third day, you made your way into the physio room to return some resistance bands.
“you’ve been avoiding me.”
his voice made you stop in your tracks. désiré stood in the doorway, looking more tired than you’d seen him all week.
“i haven’t.”
“you have.”
“i thought…” you hesitated. “i thought you didn’t want to talk to me.” you admitted.
his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
“why would you think that?”
“you ignored me after the final.”
désiré stared at you pulling his phone from his pocket.
“i texted you.” he spoke gently, turning is phone to show you three unanswered messages
‘good luck tomorrow.’
‘you don’t need luck, but I’m sending it anyway.’
‘i’ll be watching.’
you frowned, opening you own phone to find nothing. not one of the messages had come through.
he sighed.
“my signal’s been awful in the village.”
“so has mine.” you agreed.
for a moment neither of you spoke as desire rubbed the back of his neck.
“i thought you were angry.”
“i thought you forgot.”
“i watched your race.”
“you did?”
“i found a tv in the recovery room,” he explained, smiling slightly at the memory, “i nearly got shouted at because i refused to leave until you’d finished.”
your heart softened as he continued.
“i wanted to congratulate you after.”
“i saw you.” you quickly confessed.
“when?” his eyebrows furrowed.
“you were talking to that gymnast.” you looked down suddenly heavily interested in the floor.
realisation spread across his face.
“oh.”
“you looked…” you took a breath.
“what?”
“happy.” you finished.
“i was.”
your chest tightened as your breathing shallowed.
“my sister introduced us.”
you blinked.
“what?”
désiré laughed quietly.
“she’s her teammate.”
“oh.”
“i was asking if she thought you’d want to get dinner in the city after your race.”
heat rushed to your face.
“oh.” you repeated slower.
“you thought…” he asked.
“i thought she…” you muttered, embarrassment taking over.
“you thought i liked her?”
“i might’ve.” you confessed as désiré simply shook his head with a small smile.
“i’ve spent the last two weeks finding excuses to come to physio appointments i probably didn’t need.”
“you have?”
“my ankle stopped hurting days ago.” he admitted.
you laughed in disbelief.
“you’re kidding.”
“i wanted to see you.”
your smile faded into something softer at this revelation.
“i thought i was the only one who kept volunteering for recovery sessions.”
désiré’s eyes widened.
“you were doing that too?”
you nodded shyly as a silence filled with things neither of you had said settled between you.
désiré took a careful step closer to you.
“can i kiss you?” he muttered lowly.
instead of answering, you closed the distance yourself, pressing your lips against his softly, both of you slightly smiling into the kiss, his hands pulled you in closer wrapping around your waist as your arms rested around his neck. when you finally pulled away, désiré rested his forehead against yours.
“i can’t believe we nearly ruined this because of bad phone signal.” he muttered in disbelief.
“and because i can’t communicate.”
“and because i apparently look too friendly.”
“you do.” you stated honestly.
“i’ll work on that.” he vowed as you laughed, slipping your hand into his with natural ease.
“no.”
“what?”
“i quite like that you’re friendly.”
he smiled, looking down at your interlinked hands.
“good.”
“because i’d like to keep seeing you after all this is over.” you finished.
désiré’s smile only grew as he gazed into your eyes.
“i was hoping you’d say that.”
words left unspoken (2)
masterlist
angst
jamal musiala x female reader
plot summary: in which jamal is desperate for your forgiveness.
part one
just after midnight your phone vibrated on the bedside table of your parents spare room. unknown account. you opened the dm absentmindedly, but you quickly stopped breathing your hands shaking as you looked down at the three photos infiltrating your phone.
photo one showed jamal kissing a girl against his kitchen counter as she pushed her pelvis against his.
photo two contained a different girl this time. this girl was straddling his lap, her hands around his neck and his hands resting on her ass as his tongue was visibly deep in her mouth.
photo three consisted of another girl, his hands resting on her waist while she smiled into the kiss.
your heart pounded against your chest and your pulse thumped in your ears, heat flooding your body as you read the messages attached.
‘guess he didn’t feel like waiting for you.’
‘he said he’s single.’
the tears came instantly, not because he’d kissed someone else, because he’d kissed three without a second thought, because you’d spent months convincing yourself there was something between you and apparently the idea of you hadn’t even crossed his mind.
the next morning your phone lit up with the familiar message from jamal.
‘good morning’
ignored.
‘hope you’re okay.’
ignored.
by the evening you could tell he was frustrated.
‘have i done something?’
but you ignored that message aswell.
tge messages continued through the week.
‘please answer me’
‘i’m worried’
‘can you just tell me you’re safe’
the messages came with an abundance of missed calls until it all stopped. no texts, no calls, nothing, just silence. you assumed he’d finally realised you weren’t worth chasing and he assumed you’d decided you never wanted to see him again.
jamal’s rehab quickly fell apart and everyone noticed.
“you look exhausted.” they would say.
“i am.” he would reply.
“are you sleeping?”
“no.”
“eating?”
“not really.”
getting back to football wasn’t what occupied his thoughts anymore, instead you were, every second.
nearly two weeks later, one of your mutual friends mentioned seeing the photos and jamal felt sick.
“you saw them?”
“well, they’re everywhere.”
he stared at the floor, finally understanding.
“oh god” he whispered repeatedly under his breath in a panic.
the drive to your hometown was the longest of his life, he rehearsed a hundred apologies yet none sounded nearly good enough. by the time he reached your home his anxiety was through the roof, hands shaking as he knocked on the door, your mum opening it.
“she’s upstairs.” she told him, then quietly added, “she hasn’t smiled since she got home.” and at that jamal’s heart broke.
you ignored the knocking on your bedroom door, your face buried in your probably permanently tear stained pillow.
“please.” his voice cracked. “i know you’re in there.”
you did not reply.
“i deserve you slamming the door in my face.” he continued as silence followed. “but i can’t let you hate me without knowing why.”
at this you opened the door, only a few inches, but it was enough for his face to fall immediately at the sight of you. you looked like you’d cried yourself empty.
“you kissed them.”
jamal closed his eyes.
“…yeah.”
“you kissed all of them.”
“…yeah.”
“you don’t get to tell me they meant nothing.” you ranted on.
“i won’t.”
“you chose to kiss them.” your voice cracked.
“i did.”
“so why are you here?” you cried, exasperated.
he looked at you with red-rimmed eyes, from tiredness or tears, you didn’t care to ask.
“because every single kiss was me trying to convince myself to stop loving you.” he confessed.
you laughed bitterly in disbelief.
“great strategy.”
“it was the worst decision i’ve ever made.”
“you hurt me.”
“i know.”
“i thought - ” his voice broke completely. “i thought you only ever saw me as your friend.”
“you called me your bestfriend.”
“so did you.”
“i know.” you spoke carefully
“i kept waiting for you to tell me there was something more.”
“so did i.” you admitted.
“i got tired of hoping.”
“so instead you kissed three different girls?” you pointed out.
he hung his head, shame filling his soul.
“i wanted to prove i could move on.”
“could you?” you asked.
“no.” his answer came instantly. “i kissed the first girl and all i could think about was you.”
“and the second?”
“i remembered how you kissed my forehead after physio when i was frustrated.”
“the third…”
“i realised i was trying to replace someone who couldn’t be replaced.” his voice wavered. “so i stopped, i sent everyone home and sat in that house surrounded by every little reminder of you and realised i’d just destroyed the one chance i ever might have had.”
you stared at him through blurred vision.
“i loved you.” the words slipped out. “i still do.”
jamal’s face crumpled.
“i love you too.”
“but i don’t know how to forget those pictures.” you admitted.
“you shouldn’t. i don’t deserve for you to.” he wiped his eyes. “i just needed you to know i wasn’t choosing them over you. i was choosing to run away from loving you because i thought you didn’t love me back.”
for a long time, neither of you spoke, when finally you whispered,
“i’m not ready to forgive you.”
“i know.” he nodded.
“but…” you stepped a little closer. “if this is ever going to work, you don’t get to make decisions for the both of us again.”
he didn’t hesitate.
“i won’t.”
“and if you’re scared” you continued as he looked at you, “you tell me.”
“i will” he whispered and for the first time in weeks, the silence between you wasn’t built on assumptions but instead honesty.
words left unspoken (1)
masterlist
angst
jamal musiala x female reader
plot summary: in which you have remained by jamals side during his recovery but one weekend away from eachother threatens to tear apart the relationship built in those months together.
part two
there was a running joke amongst everyone close to jamal musiala in that if they couldn’t find him, they only had to find you, because ever since his injury you were practically attached at the hip. you’d shown up at his home the day after he was discharged from hospital with two bags of shopping, his favourite takeaway, and no intention of taking no for an answer.
“i’m not helpless.” he grumbled from the sofa as he watched you unpack his groceries.
“i know.”
“you really don’t have to do all this.”
“i know.”
“i can look after myself,” he continued as you paused, looking over at him, holding a carton of milk.
“this expired six days ago.”
“… that’s not the point.” he sighed, watching you smile to yourself.
“no, the point is that you’ll accidentally give yourself food poisoning if i leave you alone.” you mused and despite his protests, he never stopped you from coming back which you always did.
recovery was exhausting, both you and jamal knew it would be, not just physically but mentally aswell. some mornings he’d wake up convinced he’d never be the same player again. those were the days in which he’d barely speak and instead choose to stare out of his living room window whilst you quietly made him breakfast in the kitchen.
you never pushed him to talk, but simply existed beside him and eventually he’d start talking anyway.
“i miss training.” he confessed.
“i know you do.”
“i miss feeling useful.”
you turned to face him, your hand now resting on his thigh for balance.
“you are useful.”
he scoffed.
“i can’t even carry my own shopping.”
“so? you think that’s why people love you?” the words left your mouth before you could stop them and you quickly looked away, removing your hand and sitting back awkwardly. you didn’t take the word back and he didn’t miss it yet neither of you mentioned it.
soon enough, the weeks started to blur together, physio appointments, movie nights and alternating between your respective favourite take aways. sometimes jamal would fall asleep halfway through a film, his head resting against your shoulder, as you remained still. occasionally you’d doze off too and he’d wake up first, smiling because somehow your hand had found his without either of you noticing.
everyone assumed the pair of you were a couple, his teammates, your friends, even strangers.
“you two are so cute together,” an elderly waitress smiled one time after bringing over your food causing jamal to choke on his drink.
“oh we’re not - ”
“we’re just friends,” you finished casually not realising the effect the comment had on jamal.
the waitress gave you both a knowing smile before walking away as jamal laughed awkwardly regathering himself.
“people always assume.”
“yeah.” you agreed, neither of you noticing the disappointment the other held.
almost three months into his recovery, your mum called, complaining how you hadn’t visited home in a while, so you promised to spend the upcoming weekend there.
“i’ll survive,” jamal assured as you packed your overnight bag.
“you’ll have to.”
“i’ll probably burn my kitchen down.” he joked.
“i’ve left meals labelled in the fridge for you.”
“you think of everything.” he states admirably causing you to smile shyly.
“i’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”
he nodded.
“i’ll miss you.” he murmered into your hair as he pulled you into a long hug, neither of you reacting to the normal nature of the interaction.
truth be told the house felt unbearably quiet after you left as jamal wandered from room to room taking note of any object that reminded him of you. the blanket you had dedicated to snuggling during films on the sofa, one of your hair ties on the kitchen counter and your favourite mug drying by the sink, when suddenly his phone buzzed, a few friends inviting themselves other. usually he would’ve declined but as he stared at your latest message he started to second guess everything, maybe he had imagined everything and you only really saw him as the injured friend you’d taken pity on.
“get over her.” he scolded himself, throwing his phone across the sofa.
the gathering started small with music and a few drinks but as the night went on more and more people arrived. a few girls he’d never met arrived with some of his friends with one of them recognising jamal immediately.
“yknow, I’ve always thought you were cute.” she practically purred in his ear.
jamal smiled politely as another one of the girls wrapped an arm around him.
“you’ve been hiding from everyone, cmon.”
someone handed him another drink but he wasn’t drunk, not even close, instead just numb. everywhere he looked he was reminded of you. the candle you always lit, your jacket hung in the hallway, your favourite snacks still sitting in the cupboard. he couldn’t stop thinking about you, so he did something unbelievably stupid that he knew he would grow to regret, when the first girl kissed him, instead of pushing away like he normally would, this time, he kissed back. not because he wanted her but because he wanted to stop wanting you. in the background his friends cheered and someone laughed as another girl walked over.
“my turn?” she asked and jamal forced a smile as their lips locked and tongues tangled. this kiss was longer than the previous, more messy, as the girl climbed onto his lap, running her hands through his curls, something he only ever allowed you to do. jamal eventually pulled away lips puffy yet no spark, butterflies or warmth, the only thing he felt was guilt.
hours later, a new girl was nearby leading to another kiss as she gripped onto him like he was her property. someone had pulled out their phone and soon enough their were pictures, videos and laughter of jamal’s night and he hated every second but he kept going because if he stopped now then he’d have to admit none of it was working.
Do you have any Desire Doue fics coming? 🩷
hi, not yet, my requests are mainly olise and i also have a musiala fic i hope to get out soon, but if u have an idea then id be more than happy to write it! 💞
Could u write smth about Michael and reader being friends with benefits ( idk if you write smut but it doesnt have to be explicit, it can be implied) and they dont understand they like each other except for their friends
Thanks !!! Love your work btw.
jealous friends
masterlist
smut/angst
michael olise x female reader
trigger warning: smut
note: thank you for the request,sorry this took me so long to write. also this is no hate to anyone called sophie it was just the first name that came to mind.
yours and michael's relationship had always been a mystery to everyone around you.
to outsiders, there was no logical explanation for the way the two of you acted. you'd show up at each other's homes unannounced, spend entire days together, steal lazy kisses whenever you felt like it, and disappear behind closed doors often enough that people stopped asking questions. the line between friendship and something more had long since blurred.
everyone assumed you were together.
you always laughed and corrected them.
"we're just friends."
it was the same answer every time, despite the lingering touches, the comfortable intimacy, and the fact that neither of you ever seemed interested in defining whatever this was. it worked for the two of you, even if nobody else could understand.
so when he slowly started pulling away, stopped texting, showing up, kissing you, and the random visits to your apartment became quick texts saying he couldn’t make it, you didn’t know what to do. at first you told yourself he was just busy, football was demanding you understood that, you always had, so you allowed yourself to make excuses for him until you started seeing the reason. her. you’d noticed that she’d started hanging around more through sponsorship events and mutual friends. she was beautiful, funny, outgoing and somehow always ended the night by michael’s side.
you tried not to think anything of it, michael was allowed other female friends, until he started choosing her over you.
“you’re coming tonight, right?” you’d asked one afternoon.
michael barely looked up from his phone.
“hm?”
“the team dinner.”
“oh.” he murmered as his thumbs continued to move across the screen. “i forgot.”
“you forgot?”
“i already said i’d go with sophie.” he said casually, the words hitting you harder than they should’ve.
“oh.”
“i’ll see you there though.”
“yeah.” you smiled forcefully, but you knew you wouldn’t.
another time, a few weeks later, you’d invited him over, and instead of coming over straightaway he’d left you on read for three hours. eventually your phone buzzed.
sorry. ended up grabbing dinner with sophie after the event. another time?
you stared at the message for far longer than necessary before responding.
of course. have fun!
you didn’t mention the homemade dinner currently going cold on your kitchen table and the new black lace lingerie set you’d bought now itching at your skin.
it quickly became routine, you’d look for michael and he’d be with sophie. someone would ask where michael was and the answer was always the same.
“oh, he’s with sophie.”
even the team noticed.
“you alright?” one of the players, jamal musiala, asked you quietly one day after training.
“fine.”
“you’ve barely spoken.”
“i’ve spoken.”
“not to michael.”
you laughed humourlessly.
“he seems busy.”
jamal sighed.
“he doesn’t realise.”
“realise what?”
“that he’s hurting you.”
you turned away before he could see your eyes sting.
“it’s fine.”
“no it’s not.”
jamal was right, michael didn’t notice, not really, not like he should’ve. he noticed you were quieter, that you left earlier than usual, that you smiled less but he just assumed you were tired, he never connected it to himself, never bothered to ask.
it had been three weeks. three whole weeks with no late-night visits, no kisses, no lazy sundays, no holding each other naked and vulnerable talking lowly until the early hours of the morning. the space where michael had always existed in your life felt unbearably empty. you hated how much you missed him but what you hated even more is how he didn’t seem to miss you.
the breaking point came after one of michael’s matches. usually, you’d wait outside the dressing room, he’d walk out exhausted before immediately wrapping you in a hug. tonight, like routine, you waited, the dressing room door opened as players poured out, whilst families greeted them and teammates laughed. michael finally appeared and you smiled instinctively as his eyes found yours for just a second, then –
“sophie!”
he walked straight past you. you watched him pull her into a hug before the two of them disappeared down the corridor together, laughing about something she’d said. he hadn’t even stopped, hadn’t even said hello. your smile was wiped off your face as. you turned around before anyone had the chance to see the tears threatening to fall.
jamal found michael twenty minutes later.
“where’s she gone?”
michael frowned.
“who?”
jamal just sent him an unimpressed look.
“…really?”
“what?”
“you walked straight past her.”
Michael blinked.
“i - ”
“you didn’t even stop.”
“i thought - ” he stammered
“you thought she’d still be waiting after you ignored her for the last month?”
michael’s stomach dropped.
“what are you talking about?”
jamal looked genuinely shocked.
“you seriously haven’t noticed?”
“noticed what?”
“the fact that she’s been miserable?”
michael’s expression slowly changed.
“what?”
“you’ve cancelled on her. you’ve stopped calling. you’ve stopped trying to see her. you’ve replaced her with sophie.”
Each sentence landed like a punch to michael’s gut, he truly hadn’t meant for this to happen.
“i haven’t replaced - ”
“then why does everyone else think you have?” jamal silenced.
michael’s mind rapidly started replaying the last few weeks all up until tonight, to the way you’d smiled before it fell.
“where did she go?”
you were already halfway home when the tears came. not dramatic sobbing, just quiet tears that you couldn’t seem to stop. maybe everyone had been wrong, maybe you and michael had never been anything special, because if you truly mattered would replacing you really had been that easy?
your phone rang. it was michael. you let it ring again and again continuing to ignore it as the messages rolled through.
where are you?
please answer.
i’m outside your apartment.
your heart clenched as the knocking started, at first soft then more desperate, you weren’t ready to face him. eventually you opened the door to michael who looked awful his jacket half-zipped, eyes filled with panic and the second he saw your face he knew.
“you’ve been crying.”
you shrugged
“i’ll be okay.”
“no.” his voice cracked “no you won’t”
neither of you spoke, then quietly he asked,
“why didn’t you tell me?”
you laughed sadly.
“when?”
“what do you mean?”
“the first time you cancelled? the fifth? the night you forgot our plans because you’d already made different ones with sophie?”
his face fell further with every word.
“you looked happier with her.” you stated simply.
“i wasn’t.” he denied.
“you chose her.”
“i didn’t.”
“you did.” you raised your voice as it cracked. “every single time, michael.”
the silence that followed afterwards was unbearable so you continued.
“i waited.” you swallowed hard. “i kept thinking you’d realise. i kept making excuses for you. i told everyone you were just busy. i told myself not to be jealous because we weren’t together.” you released a shaky breath.
“but every time you walked past me to go to her…”
your vision was blurred and vulnerable now, tears filling your eyes and threatening to fall.
“… it felt like i was losing my best friend.”
michael closed his eyes, exasperated.
“oh god.”
“i would’ve understood if you liked her.”
“i don’t.”
“i would’ve stepped away.”
“i don’t!” he yelled, his voice now echoing through the apartment, the desperation in it making you flinch. “i don’t like her.”
“you spent every day with her.”
“i thought…” he gathered himself.
“i thought you were pulling away from me.” he admitted quietly.
you stared at him.
“what?”
“you stopped texting first.”
“because you stopped answering.”
“i thought you were bored of me.”
“i thought you were replacing me.”
he laughed bitterly at himself, internally condemning his idiocy.
“i kept spending time with sophie because it was easier than asking you if something was wrong.”
you both stood there in stunned silence, two idiots hurting each other for completely different reasons. michael took a cautious step forward.
“i never slept with her. i never even kissed her. to be honest i haven’t been with anyone but you since this started.” he gestured to the space between the two of you as you looked up.
“the only person i’ve wanted to kiss and be with…” he continued, taking another step towards you “… is you.”
your breathing hitched as michael reached a hand out to caress your face.
“i missed you. so much.” he muttered, never breaking eye contact. “i missed your apartment, our hangouts, you stealing my hoodies and making fun of my interviews.” you let out a watery laugh as he continued, “i missed you kissing me hello and goodbye, i missed holding you through the night, i missed you.”
another tear slipped down your cheek as you spoke.
“i thought…”
your voice barely worked.
“i thought you’d stopped wanting me.”
michael’s face crumpled as he gently cupped your face with both hands, tilting your head upwards to look at him.
“i never stopped, i’m sorry that i put you through this, and i’m sorry that i didn’t realise i was hurting you sooner.”
you searched his face for any word of a lie.
“you really don’t like sophie?” you asked as he almost looked offended.
“i barely know sophie.”
that made you laugh through your tears.
“you’ve spent a month with her.”
“i know. i was stupid.”
you leaned into his touch.
“the stupidest.”
“so, we’re done pretending this is friendly?” he asked.
you smiled for the first time in weeks.
“i think we should’ve stopped pretending a long time ago.”
michael took this as a signal, refusing to wait another second as he kissed you hurriedly, the force of the kiss and his grip on your waist sending shivers down your spine as you moaned against his mouth pushing him backwards onto the bed.
your hands found the hem of his shirt pushing it up and resting on his abs whilst your legs swung over him resting your knees on either side of his hips as you rocked slightly over his clothed and growing bulge. michael breathed your name repeatedly like a prayer as his hands fumbled your bra clasp, his eyes glossing over at the sight of your bare chest. he reached a hand out, fingers swiping over your nipple as he took your other breast in his mouth causing you to throw your head back in pleasure gasping his name.
taking this moment of vulnerability as an opportunity, michael flipped you over so that he was now on top, littering open mouth kisses all over your neck whilst sliding your panties to the side and inserting two fingers without warning making you bite down on his shoulder as he moaned loudly from the contact, his breath hot against your stomach.
“your so wet for me,” michael muttered, looking up at you from the end of the bed as he held your hips down with his arm.
just as you were about to reply his mouth attached to your clit, sucking immediately, causing you to yell out his name, back arched, which in return led to him moaning against your folds, fingers still pumping. the vibrations from his moans were your final straw as your orgasm crashed down on you whilst you came over michael’s hand and face.
he pulled back from between your legs, removing his fingers and sucking off your juices as they dripped down his arm. he then leaned over you, connecting your lips in a slow kiss allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue as he hovered over you, lining up his cock with your entrance.
“is this okay?” michael asked, moving a hair from your forehead.
“mhm.” you hummed.
“words baby, i need words.”
“please michael, please fuck me.”
at the confirmation, michael slid into you, the cum from your previous orgasm still lingering and now shining on his cock.
“fuck i missed this baby, your so tight.” he gasped as your eyes rolled back and your lips parted, your mind blank, only focusing on the man above you.
the room was filled with the sound of your pornographic moans and the slapping of his balls against your skin as he thrust into you deeply and desperately.
“michael i’m so close” you cried
“me too baby, me too, its okay, i’ve got you” he grunts, his motions getting sloppier.
unconsciously you clenched around him signalling your orgasm. not wanting to leave you disappointed michael held on, fucking you through your orgasm before pulling out and releasing over your stomach as he collapsed on the bed next to you.
after a few minutes of heavy breathing, michael stood up and went to the bathroom, returning with a hot wet cloth, wiping up the stickiness from your stomach and between your legs, before pulling you into his chest and kissing you all over your face as you giggled.
“i’ll never pull away from you again.” he promised, his chin resting on top of your head, his arms wrapped around your body like a cocoon, your legs intertwined and all you could do was smile into his chest.