DRUNK IN LOVE

pairing: michael olise x reader

synopsis: he's drunk enough to say it out loud for the first time. you're the one who has to figure out if it counts.

wc: 2,6k

You'd been curled up on your couch for the better part of an hour, hair pulled back in a loose knot, an old episode of some show playing quietly, and more tired than actually invested in anything. You'd meant to go to bed an hour ago. Something about the quiet flat had kept you rooted to the couch instead, some low hum of restlessness you hadn't quite placed until your phone lit up.

You almost didn't pick up.

It was late, the kind of late that meant Michael was either about to have a genuine emergency or was three tequilas deep at whatever club Jamal had dragged him to tonight, and when your phone lit up with his name you braced for either possibility.

The call connected on video, not audio, and the screen filled immediately with chaos, strobing lights, bass thudding hard enough you could hear it distorting through the phone speaker, and Michael's face far too close to the camera, flushed, grinning, clearly deep into a night that had gotten away from him.

"Mike?"

"Hello," He said it too loud, the way people did when they'd stopped registering their own volume. "Wait, is this video? I meant to call, not—" He fumbled, the camera swinging wildly, catching a flash of the club behind him, a couple of women standing close, one with her hand resting against his arm, another laughing at something just out of frame.

"Where are you?"

"Club. Doesn't matter which one." He righted the phone, and you caught, briefly, the woman beside him leaning in to say something against his ear, and Michael, distracted, not fully turning toward her, attention snagging back to the screen instead.

"You've got people all over you."

"Do I?" He glanced sideways, like he was only just noticing, and gave a vague, dismissive wave in their direction that didn't seem to register with any of them. "Not important. Wanted to call you."

"You're clearly busy."

"Not busy. Bored, actually. Been thinking about you the whole night, if I'm honest." He said it plainly, entirely unbothered by the fact that at least one woman was still hovering close enough to hear. "Kept meaning to text and then just called instead. And now it's video, apparently. Bit of a mess."

"You're very drunk."

"Extremely, yeah." No attempt to deny it. "Tequila. Lots of it. Jamal's fault, mostly." He squinted at the screen properly now, something in his expression shifting, softening. "You look really pretty right now. Even through the phone."

You felt your face warm, aware of the noise and the people still visible behind him, some old worry threading through the affection.

"Michael, is Jamal with you? Someone sober?"

"Jamal's around somewhere. Dancing badly, probably." He laughed at his own joke, then seemed to lose the thread entirely, staring at the screen again. "You should be here. Or I should be there. One of those."

"You should probably stay where you are and drink some water."

"Don't want water. Want you." He said it with the loose, uncomplicated honesty that only ever surfaced when he was properly gone, and behind him one of the women said something you couldn't catch, reaching for his arm again, and Michael, without seeming to fully register doing it, stepped half a pace away from her, attention entirely fixed on the small screen in his hand instead.

Then, apparently remembering the woman was still there, he turned the phone slightly, angling the screen so she could see too.

"Look," he said, delighted, entirely unaware of how loud he was being. "Look at my girlfriend."

You felt your whole face go hot. "Michael—"

"Isn't she pretty?" He wasn't listening, still holding the phone up like evidence, and the woman leaned in briefly, offering a polite, faintly amused smile before drifting off toward the bar, uninterested in competing with whatever this was.

"We're not together, Michael."

"Details." He brought the phone back to his own face, entirely unbothered by the correction, grinning at the screen like you hadn't said anything at all.

Your chest tightened, worry and something warmer tangled together.

"Where exactly is the club? I want the actual address."

"Why?"

"Because I'm coming to get you."

"Yeah?" Something in his face lit properly at that, delighted in a way that had nothing performative about it at all. "You'd come get me?"

"I'm already finding my shoes, Mike. Send me the address."

He fumbled with the phone again, the screen swinging wildly before he managed to text you something, the message arriving a beat later, barely legible, autocorrect having mangled half of it, though you managed to make out enough of the venue name to place it.

"Stay where Jamal can see you," you said, already moving. "Drink water if you can find any. I'll be there soon."

"Okay." He was still staring at the screen, entirely unbothered by the club continuing around him. "You're an angel, you know that."

"You say that every time you're drunk."

"Because it's true every time." He smiled, soft and unguarded, then his expression shifted into something more thoughtful, slower. "You're gonna be my girl one of these days. Proper, I mean. Not just the not-together thing we've got going."

"Michael."

"Just saying. Putting it out there." He nodded, satisfied with himself, entirely serious despite the slur in his words. "Come save me, angel."

"On my way. Stay put."

He nodded, entirely obedient, and the call dropped a second later, apparently by accident again, and you tugged on the pale yellow sundress hanging over the back of your chair, the only thing within reach that wasn't pyjamas and pulled on your high boots, grabbing your coat on the way out, the whole strange, chaotic, tender exchange sitting warm and worried in your chest as you headed out into the night to go find him.

The club was loud enough that you felt the bass before you'd even reached the door, the queue outside longer than you had patience for at this hour, but the bouncer recognized you well enough by now, waving you through without much fuss, some unspoken understanding passing between you about exactly why you were there.

You found Jamal first, near the bar, visibly relieved at the sight of you.

"Thank god," he said. "He's been asking where his phone went for the last ten minutes. Didn't realize he'd actually called you."

"Where is he?"

Jamal nodded toward a booth in the corner, and you spotted Michael there, still surrounded, still smiling vaguely at whatever conversation was happening around him without actually participating in it, eyes fixed instead on the door like he'd been watching for you the entire time.

He saw you before you reached him, and his whole face changed, something relieved and delighted breaking through the haze, eyes moving slowly over the sundress, your loose hair, the boots, something soft and a little dazed settling into his expression.

"You wore the yellow one," he said, like it was the most important detail of the entire night. "Fuck, Look at you. So pretty. Came all sleepy and pretty to come get me."

"Michael."

"I mean it." He reached for your hand, unsteady, letting you pull him up. Halfway through standing he leaned in too, aiming for your mouth entirely without thinking it through.

You turned your face just enough that his lips landed against your cheek instead, gentle but firm about it.

"No," you said softly. "Not like this."

"Why not." He blinked, genuinely confused, still leaning in slightly.

"Because you're drunk, and you'll probably regret it, or not even remember it properly, and I'm not going to be the thing you're embarrassed about tomorrow." You steadied him instead, keeping the moment from tipping into anything else. "If you still want to, ask me sober."

He studied you for a long moment, something clearing slightly behind the haze, and nodded slowly, like the logic had actually landed somewhere.

"Fair," he said. "Best looking rescue mission I've ever been on, though."

"You're the one being rescued."

"Still counts." He leaned more heavily into you than he probably meant to as you steered him toward the exit, aware of the curious glances from the people still crowded around the booth.

"Come on. Let's get you home."

"Told you," he said, entirely pleased with himself. "Angel."

"Walk properly, Michael."

"Trying." You got him out into the cool night air, the club noise fading behind you, Jamal trailing after with a promise to check on the tab and follow shortly.

By the time you'd flagged down a cab, some of the earlier looseness in him had settled into something quieter, more tired, his head finding your shoulder without asking, entirely trusting.

The house was quiet when you got him inside, and he leaned on you the whole way up, murmuring something about his keys that didn't quite make sense until you found them yourself, tucked in the wrong pocket of his jacket.

"You always lose your keys when you're like this," you said, steering him through the door.

"Not always."

"Every time."

"Selective memory, that." He collapsed onto the couch the second you got him near it, and you crouched to pull his shoes off while he watched you with the same unguarded, sleepy fondness he'd had in the cab.

"Water," you said, standing. "Then bed."

"Don't want to move unless you're coming with me."

"Michael."

"I mean it. Bed's better with you in it. Even just sleeping." He reached for your hand again, tugging weakly. "Stay. Please. Couch, bed, doesn't matter which. Just don't go home."

You hesitated, some old caution warring with how thoroughly you already knew you weren't going to leave him like this anyway.

"I'm staying," you said eventually. "Doesn't mean anything's happening beyond sleeping, though."

"Wasn't asking for anything beyond that." He said it plainly, entirely sincere despite the exhaustion. "Just want you close. That's all I actually want, most nights. Sober or not."

Something in your chest ached softly at that, the difference between what he wanted in this state and what you'd actually let yourself give him, careful even now to only offer what genuinely served him rather than what the moment might have made easy.

"Water first," you said, standing anyway. "Then bed, and I'll stay."

"Aight." He watched you go, entirely pleased with himself despite having gotten nothing beyond your presence, and you disappeared into the kitchen to fill a glass, setting it on the table in front of him along with a couple of painkillers you found in the cupboard, years of doing exactly this having taught you where everything lived in his house almost as well as your own.

"Drink that. All of it."

He obeyed, slower than usual, and you sat on the edge of the coffee table across from him, watching him properly now that the club noise and the crowd weren't muddying everything.

"You really did call me on purpose," you said eventually. "Not an accident."

"Wasn't planning the video part. But yeah. Called you on purpose." He set the glass down, mostly empty now. "Kept thinking about you the whole night. Even with everyone else around. Kept wanting to just leave and come find you instead."

"You could have texted. Instead of getting three tequilas in first."

"Could have. Didn't have the nerve sober." He said it plainly, the same loose honesty from the phone call, though quieter now, more tired. "Braver like this. Bit pathetic, probably."

"It's not pathetic."

"Feels a bit pathetic. Needing tequila to say things I mean anyway." He was fighting sleep now, eyes drooping, and you reached over, brushing a loc back from his forehead, the gesture familiar after years of exactly this.

"You don't need tequila," you said softly. "You've got years of easier moments where you could've said any of it."

"Scared, probably. Didn't want to ruin what we already had by making it complicated." His words were slowing now, sleep pulling harder. "Rather have you like this. However this counts. Than not have you at all."

You sat with that for a long moment, something in his tired, unguarded honesty landing somewhere deeper than the earlier drunk declarations had, more considered even through the exhaustion. And then, quieter, something heavier crept in underneath the warmth.

"You know I can't really trust any of this, though," you said, not quite looking at him. "You're wasted, Michael. People say all sorts of things they don't mean when they're this far gone. Tomorrow you might not remember, or you'll remember and wish you hadn't said it."

He opened his eyes properly at that, some of the sleepy haze clearing just enough to focus on you.

"That's not what this is."

"You don't know that right now. Neither do I." You kept your voice gentle, but the sadness underneath it was real, years of careful undefined closeness suddenly feeling fragile rather than comforting. "I don't want to hold onto something you said at three in the morning after four tequilas and find out in daylight it doesn't mean anything."

"It means something." He said it slower this time, more effort behind it, like he was trying to push past the drunkenness to make you believe him. "Not the tequila talking. Tequila just took the brakes off. Doesn't mean it wasn't already there."

"You say that now."

"I'll say it tomorrow too." He reached for your hand, missing slightly before finding it, holding on with more determination than his current state really allowed. "Ask me again in the morning. I won't take any of it back."

You studied him for a long moment, wanting badly to believe it and still bracing yourself not to, some old, practiced caution keeping the hope carefully in check.

"We'll see," you said quietly, echoing an old habit of yours, and he managed a small, tired smile at that, like he recognized it too.

"Fair enough." His eyes were closing again, the fight finally leaving him. "Ask me tomorrow, angel."

"Go to sleep, Michael."

"Mm." He didn't argue further, sleep pulling him under properly this time, and you sat there a while longer with his hand still loosely in yours, the sadness and the hope tangled together uncomfortably in your chest, wishing you could simply trust the words without needing daylight and sobriety to prove they'd survive.

You tugged the throw blanket down from the back of the couch a while later, and he shifted, tugging gently at your hand until you gave in, settling beside him and then letting him rearrange himself so his head landed heavy and warm in your lap instead, entirely unselfconscious about it.

"Comfortable?" you asked, amused despite everything.

"Very." He was already drifting properly now, breathing slowing, and you settled the blanket over him properly, fingers carding gently through his locs without quite deciding to.

"Sleep, Mikey."

"Night." His eyes were closed now, voice barely more than a mumble. "My angel."

You went still for a second, something warm and unsteady catching in your chest at the quiet, half-conscious certainty of it, so different from the earlier declarations shouted over club noise, this one small and private and entirely unguarded.

N4sty Tells!Boyfriend-Noni x BlackFem!reader: It's your birthday, but you don't it celebrate. Noni doesn't take it though and decides this birthday will be celebrated in the best way possible.

R3y Info!No warning, fluff, established relationship, birthday celebrations!

Sidenote: first Noni fic, hope you like it. I had fun making it!

It was your birthday, everyone knew it, but the thing was you didn't really like celebrating it because of some things that happened in your past, and that's okay. Noni however couldn't let that slide. He knew you deserved a perfect birthday and he made sure he was going to be the one to give it to you.

You were in the living room watching his football highlights while sipping on some tea. You were relaxed feeling at peace with the moment, when Noni strolls in with a massive smile.

“Happy birthday my darlin', Happy birthday to you” He sang while lifting you to your feet. You raised your brow as he gently held your waist and danced with you while he sang. A smile cracked onto your face as you danced with him.

“Every Year you just keep growing finer and Finer” he purred while pulling you close enough to kiss your neck his hands sliding low onto your ass. “Right baby, I'm loving the thought, but you know my rule, no celebrating my birthday” that statement made Noni whine and pull back. “Why not? Why can't celebrate this beautiful” he plants a kiss on your cheek “Stunning“ one to your lips “gorgeous” one to your collar bone “creation” the final one was planted near your chest. “Because i said so, that's why” you smiled and cupped his cheek rubbing it softly before pulling away to sit down.

“Right, I'm not having this baby” you rolled your eyes mocking annoyance and looked at him. “how about this: We celebrate your birthday just to two of us? You, me and the day you were born? Sounds fair innit?” you tapped your chin pretending to be in thought. “Right fine since you said just me and you I'll take it, so what do you have planned for us?”

A massive smile appeared on his face. “We're going to the fair then I booked the best part the park near the fair our own garden side candle lit dinner”

“Ouu fancy” a giggle came through making him immediately pick you up like you were nothing, he looked at your lips then at your face with loving eyes.

That heart melting smile kept growing and growing. “You're enjoying this aren't you?” He nodded before setting you down. “We have a lot day ahead of us soo, get to getting ready” he ushered his hand slapping your ass making you jump forward. “Fuck sake” you laughed softly rubbing the part he slapped before heading upstairs to get ready. You got dressed in a soft blush pink jumpsuit, with a matching headwrap. You wore your favorite sneakers and placed on some jewelry, but called Noni to come help with putting on a necklace he got you for your anniversary.

“Baby!” you called but no reply “Noni mate!” you groaned but he soon appeared “Who you callin' mate? ” he gently reached and grabbed your chin. “Why didn't you reply the first time I called you?” “Getting something” “What was that something?" “Surprise” you nodded while your chin was still in his hand he playfully wrapped his hand around your neck and pulled you in for a kiss getting lip gloss on his lips you giggled.

He gently moved his lips rubbing the slick substance across his lips until it evened out and shined. “Now we're matching” he smiled making you giggle. You both were matching with outfits and he was loving every minute of it.

Once you were done you both head for the door. He opened the passenger seat for you and waited until you got comfortable before closing the door. Once he got into his seat and started the car his hand immediately rested on your thigh. “Did you see what I done? Came in a black Benz, left in a white one” he hummed while keeping his eyes focused on this road his hand clenching or rubbing patterns on your thigh.

The drive didn't take long and soon you were parked in the parking lot of the fair. It was buzzing with excitement as Noni gently lead her out the car and through the gates. “So baby, what do you want to do first” “Let's go on some rides!" Your voice came out rather excited than he thought you'd be and he was loving it.

“alright let's go” you dragged him down past the games and down to the theme park section. You gaze in awe and excitement at the many rides you could go on. “let's go on that one that” you point towards a massive ride called the Maelstrom, Noni's eyes followed and they soon went wide. The ride was sending people upside down in the air. He looked at you like you were crazy.

“You want to go on that?” “mhm“ he let out a sigh to shake out his nerves and nodded “okay let's go on that” he took your hand and went to the line, people took notice and called out his name he gave a simple wave not wanting to drive his attention away from you on your birthday. You smile softly at his actions and continued to walk. You made it to the front and Noni paid extra to go through to the front.

You made it to the front and waited until the ride was finished it's section of people before getting on. Once the old riders were off you soon came on with Noni and handful of other people. They buckled you in and did a few checks to make sure everything was in place. Noni gently laced his hands through yours and looked ahead.

“Alright riders! Ready to take off in 3…” the machine slowly started lifting “2… ” it started swinging gently “1!” the ride pushed the swings back and forth progressively went higher. The wind filled your nostrils at every swing down. Noni choked on the air and coughed before gasping for more you were screaming out of excitement then it flipped. “Oh blood of Mary” Noni cried as they swung upside down held for 3 second the swung down.

His grip on your hand tightened almost like he was trying to merge into you. You noticed his grip “You okay!?” your voice cut through the wind making him open his eyes and turn to you, he nodded and closed his eyes again making you giggle.

The final swing was went a bit too fast nearly giving him a heart attack. But once it stopped and they were freed Noni hopped immediately clutching the chain on chest. “Never again” he said picking you up and dragging you away from the death machine.

“How did you enjoy that? It felt like was having Satan put me on a merry go round before tossing me into hell, bloody hell” he said while adjusting his beanie. You laughed softly “So dramatic”

“I'm dramatic?!” He blurted “Were you and me riding the same ride? This is not the dinosaur merry go round in Peppa pig land, that thing you're calling amusement almost snatched my soul. The grim reaper was dappin up my guardian angel calling it wraps for me and you're sayin' I'm dramatic“ “are you hearing yourself?” you laughed “Dappin up my guardian angel calling it wraps for me” you mocked his voice before laughing again. He started laughing with you as he slowly took in what he said. “Alright, no more rides tho, let's go have fun in the fair yeah?” you nodded as he took your hand in his and kissed your knuckle before walking out the theme park section.

“I'm in love with you, oh, Baby, nothing go fit to change am oh, Nothing go fit to change am oh, eh” He sang while pulling you close to your side. A sweet smile broke on your face making his smile appear on his face too.

"Right let's get to the fun stuff! ” he announced while pulling you to the arcade area. He went to the till and cashed out for a bag of coins for games. You called to the first one which was one of those dance machine ones. “Wanna see if you can beat me?” “Yeah, but don't be sad when I get the most points, I know how to move my feet” he winked before putting a coin in. You chose a song and selected “Medium” for level and waited to start.

After the count down you gently followed the arrows with pure concentration. “Eh?" You heard from Noni as he put the wrong foot on the wrong spot. You held back a laugh and continued. “Tsk, this shit is cheating” he complained.

“Just say you suck at it” you chuckled. “Me? Suck? Daydream innit?” “Whatever” you continued to win more points as he struggled to keep up and soon you won with "1535 points" and he had “223 points” you laughed at the score difference. “don't be sad when I get the most points” you teased his earlier statement while clutching your stomach. “You're too funny” you said through a gasp for air. Noni playfully kissed his teeth and crossed his arms.

"It's just bad knees anyway” you wiped your tear and looked at him seeing if he was serious, but you could see the smirk on his face. “Bad knees? What an excuse” after catching your breath you went to get some ice cream since you were craving it “Not too much on the snacks, remember we have a dinner later” he reminded while his hand rested on your waist as you walked to the next game.

It was a game where you had to shoot the most ducks down to win a teddy bear. Noni got an idea and pulled you with him. You gently followed confused. “Aye mate, let me get a turn” he smirked giving the man a crisp £5. The man nodded and set it up for him. You watched gently while finishing off your ice cream.

“Alright” he mumbled to himself while aiming at the ducks with calm precision. He bit his bottom and closed one eye as he started shooting at them.

One by one the ducks dropped and until the 1 minute timer hit. He got down 10 ducks in 1 minute meaning his choice could range from the small teddies to the biggest stuffies. “Come here baby” he motioned softly. You walked over to him as his arm immediately wrapped around your waist. “Pick whatever one you want” with that your eyes lit up “Really?" He chuckled and nodded “Go for it, darlin' " you smiled and picked a big blue and white teddy and cuddled it close.

“Looks cute, happy with it?” “Yes, thank you so much baby” he kissed your cheek. “It's your birthday you get whatever you want” he smiled. Then he checked the time “Alright it's time to drive to the park for the dinner, but first” he said opening his camera app “Say cheese, Gorgeous” he smiled. You posed cuddling the teddy close with a big smile on your face. His heart softened at the sight as he clicked the button.

Once it was taken he gently stared at it, he smile of his face. “Look so cute” he chuckled and gently took your head as you started walking to the car.

He opened the door for you and let you in. He helped adjust your seat belt and fix the bear onto your lap to avoid it blocking the side mirror. He got into the car and gently drove to the place wear their dinner will be held. His hand reached for your thigh again- rubbing slow strokes up and down as the excitement bubbled within him.

He soon made it to the park and gently parked. He pulled you to the quiet area that was decorated with very lights, beautiful rosé petals around the table. Everything looked beautiful but Noni wasn't done yet. As he sat you down he leaned in and said “Baby close your eyes for me, I'll right back. No peakin' yeah?" Okay, ou I'm so excited” you giggled as he chuckled softly giving your shoulder a few rubs before walking to the get the rest of surprised. A catering crew, and a band soon arrived and they walked to set up. You lifted your brow in confusion but still didn't remove your hands from your eyes. Soon Noni came to you with loads of gift bags and a large Bouquet of your favorite flowers. “Open your eyes for me baby” he said once everything was set up.

You slowly removed your hands from your eyes and opened them, the band started playing "Amor" by alta Elegancia. You gaze softened as Noni walked over to you. “Happy birthday my love” you started to tear up while laughing softly. “No baby” Noni chuckled setting down Bouquet on your lap to wipe your tears. “Don't cry” he cooed softly “This is so beautiful, Noni. Thank you so much”

“No need to thank me baby, it's what you deserve on your special day, never anything less especially with me, now Open your gifts while the Caters get dinner ready yeah?” He sat down in his seat as you started opening the gifts. Half of the things were things you've been talking about for a while and the rest was cute things like a keychain with his initials and yours connected by a love heart. A photo of you that he took himself during your high school days. Each other made tears flow down your cheek, and with each tear Noni comforted you.

The catering crew dished up your favorite and served it. You and Noni while sharing stories, well mostly you talked and he listened putting in some words from time to time. Once you were done eating he quietly requested another song “Me Jalo”. He walked over to and held out a hand. “Come on, dance with me” he smiled. Reaching out your hand rested his as he tugged you to your feet he lead you to a good patch of grass and wrapped his arm around your waist and started dancing. You giggled and danced with him.

You hips slowly swayed and rocked as he moved with you. “Thank you for today Noni” “Anything for you, Y/n” he smiled against your temple before planting a proper kiss onto it.

…

Once everything was done and night sky started to reach its peak. They made their way home singing a song they both loved.

Once they made it home while you were in the shower Noni decided to update his story.

📍King's Lynn Mart : birthday tings with the queen

Liked by Bukayo Saka, Eberechi Eze and 680,210 others

Comments:

bukoyo_saka: finally celebrating her birthday??? shocking

noni_madueke: don't start beggin' mate

User: this is so cute #couplegoalz

user: real!!! OMDS i wish for this

User: Y/n getting treated like a queen i see

noni_madueke: always

eberechi_eze: finally being romantic?? that means we can't kiss as friends anymore

noni_madueke: why are you starting nonsense??? behave i beg

user: secret gay relationship? someone tell y/n

bukoyo_saka: wow this is how i find out??? #fakefriends

noni_madueke: I'm done with you lot

he sets his phone down and is met with you standing by the stairs in a robe.

"what you standin' there for like that?" "I'm just waiting for my more personal present" you winked and went upstairs. Noni sprung from the couch and rushed upstairs. Y'all finish your birthday with a tiring finish.

I Love You

Djed Spence x Reader

Djed Spence Masterlist

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‎·༻𐫱༺·

Djed wasn’t the type to throw words around carelessly and he showed how he felt far more than he ever said it. Djed himself was normally a confident guy but ever since the two of you started dating? Oh he was shy, he just wanted everything to go perfect any time he was with you.

People always say actions speak louder than words so that’s what Djed’s behaviour reflected most of the time he was around with you. He would do the most simple yet thoughtful gestures like he would know how you would like your tea being made, he knew your routines well and he more or less knew most things about you and he would know how to treat you right. But actually saying how he felt? That was different. Three words somehow felt far scarier than everything else.

The two of you had been together for almost three months when it happened on a random Tuesday.

You’d spent the evening at his house after training ordering takeaway because neither of you could be bothered to cook. The boxes of noodles were still scattered across the coffee table, the two of you sitting on the sofa whilst a movie played in the background but the both of you forgot the movie was even playing because most of the time you two were chatting about anything.

You rested your head against his shoulder slightly cuddled up to him “You’ve gone quiet all of a sudden.”

Djed smiled softly. “I’m just listening.”

“To what?”

“You.”

You laughed. “I been talking about my day for like twenty minutes.”

“And? I like hearing about your day.”

“You poor thing.” He nudged you gently.

“I don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t.”

You felt his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles over the back of your hand then he sighed. “So…”

You looked up. “So?”

He opened his mouth then closed it again looking like he was going to say something.

You smiled. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Djed.”

“It’s stupid.”

“It probably isn’t.”

He rubbed the back of his neck suddenly looking far more nervous than you’d ever seen him trying to find the correct words so he doenst screw the moment up. “You ever like uhhh have something you want to say but then it sounds better in your head?”

You laughed. “I suppose?”

“Yeah…” He looked away towards the skyline.

“I’ve been trying to say something for like…”

“A week?”

He huffed a laugh. “More like a month.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “A month?”

He nodded. “But every time I think about saying it, it feels awkward.”

“You’ve officially got me curious.”

He looked at you again, his expression vulnerable and before he could overthink himself out of it again, he said quietly, “I love you.”

Just like that he finally confessed after three months of being together. Just three simple words he had been aching to escape his mouth for three long months. He looked almost horrified with himself wondering if he regrets it in the moment.

“I… I love you too.” You confessed.

He blinked. “You… what?”

You smiled so widely your cheeks started hurting. “I love you too.” You repeated.

“You don’t have to say it because I said it.”

“I’m not!”

“You swear?”

You laughed. “I was actually wondering when you were going to say it.”

His shoulders dropped in relief. “You knew?”

“Oh babe I’ve known for weeks.”

“You have not.”

“You started looking at me differently.”

“I always look at you.”

“Exactly.”

He laughed covering his face with one hand.“So I spent a month stressing over that for nothing, you could’ve said it first.”

“I know.” You bit back a laugh.

“So why didn’t you?”

You shrugged innocently. “I wanted you to have your moment.”

He stared at you. “You did that on purpose.”

“Maybeee.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“I know.”

He shook his head unable to stop smiling. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“But now you know how I feel about you.”

He shifted closer to you until there was barely any space left between you. “I do.”

You reached up smoothing a dread away from his forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The second time he said this came much easier as he leaned forward to peck your lips.

And finally after months of being nervous to utter three months, later in the relationship he found so those same three words so easy to say. Often before he left for training, when he’d see you at a match or just in the blink of the moment where the two of you were lazily lying on the sofa, but from now those three words came so natural to him he doesn’t even realise how truly loved he makes you feel.

Désiré Doué x Fem!Reader

sy: your ex-boyfriend knocks on your door at 2 a.m.

a/n: wrote this last night and it ended up sitting in my drafts lol. decided to post it because it was way too funny in my head not to 😭 and if i don't post it now i probably never will. hope you guys like it, and lmk what you think 🤍 sorry if there are any writing or translation mistakes

It was two in the morning, and the show you'd only meant to watch to pass the time had completely pulled you in. After every episode, you swore the next one would be your last. At one point, you'd even promised yourself you'd stop at eleven.

You hadn't stopped.

The flat was in that specific late night state — the television being the only thing illuminated, the blanket up to your neck, a glass of water you had fetched at eleven and still hadn't drunk. You were wrapped in the kind of comfort that only exists when the world has finally stopped asking anything of you, and the only thing that mattered was whether Elena Gilbert was going to choose Damon or Stefan. And before you judge — you know that show is addictive.

The knock on the door arrived like a physical interruption.

You went completely still for a second, thinking you'd heard wrong. Then it came again — three knocks, irregular, without the rhythm of a delivery or the urgency of an emergency but clearly belonging to someone who thought knocking on a door at two in the morning on a Monday was a reasonable idea.

What on earth, you thought, pulling off the blanket with the disposition of someone dragged from a very specific state of comfort.

You went to the door without opening it, because you had common sense, and looked through the peephole.

And stopped.

And looked again because what was on the other side didn't immediately compute with the context of two in the morning on a weekday.

Desiré was at your door.

He looked like he'd just come from a party you hadn't been invited to, his hair slightly dishevelled, and that specific expression of someone who has drunk enough to have had ideas that seemed reasonable in that state and that probably wouldn't in any other. He was standing with that slightly exaggerated ease of someone trying to appear sober for someone who hasn't opened the door yet.

You stood at the peephole for a second just processing.

"What is Desiré doing at my door," you thought, "and why did he think this was a good idea?"

On the other side, Desiré was having an internal monologue that had begun as a coherent argument and was losing structure by the minute.

The party had been good. Very good, actually, which was part of the problem, because good parties sometimes had a specific effect of making the things you had been managing well feel more present than they did during the day. And he had been managing well, was managing well, it was an objective matter he had assessed repeatedly over the past months.

And then your friend had put on that song the two of you used to listen to together and Desiré had had another glass and arrived at the conclusion, with the certainty specific to three drinks above his limit, that there were things that needed to be said.

His friends had tried. "This isn't a good idea." "Desiré, stop. She has a boyfriend, mate."

He knew you had a boyfriend. That was exactly the problem he was trying to resolve with the visit.

The logic was solid at two in the morning with the content he had in his system.

He knocked again.

You opened it because the alternative was leaving him there and the awareness that he was outside drunk was going to prevent you from watching anything anyway.

The door opened and he was exactly as he'd appeared through the peephole — standing, slightly leaning forward with that specific stabilising posture people adopt when the floor is being more cooperative than usual, with a smile that was simultaneously the most confident and most misguided thing you had seen in a long time.

"Hi," he said.

"Desiré." You crossed your arms. "It's two in the morning."

"I know," he said, in the tone of someone presenting this as evidence of something important. "I came."

"I can see that you came." You examined him for a second. "You went to a party."

"I did." He considered this. "It was good, actually. You should have come."

"I wasn't invited."

"True." He blinked. "Anyway, doesn't matter. I came here because I have something important to say."

You stayed in the doorway without inviting him in, because you had limits, and waited with the expression of someone who knows what they're about to hear is going to be something.

Desiré stood with a solemnity slightly compromised by his current state, breathed in, and said: "I think we should get back together."

Silence.

"Desiré."

"Listen," he said, raising a hand with the authority of someone chairing a meeting. "I have arguments. First: we were great together."

"We broke up."

"Second argument: I miss you."

"I have a boyfriend."

He sat with that information for a second as if it were new, which was impossible because he had known for months, but there was in the visible process of receiving it again something that would have been comic if it weren't also mildly moving.

"I know you have a boyfriend," he said, with a patience that was clearly costing effort. "That's exactly why I came. Because I think it's a mistake."

"What??," you said, more to yourself than to him. "I'm with someone else, Desiré. We broke up."

"But..."

"For us to get back together," you said, with the clarity of someone who needs the sentence to land through his three drinks, "you'd have to be born again."

From Desiré's perspective, that had gone better than expected.

She had opened the door. That was progress.

He sat with her sentence for a second — be born again — and there was in it a definitiveness that a very small, very sober part of him recognised as the kind of response that didn't invite further arguments.

But that part was small.

"Wait," he said, and there was in the tone something genuine underneath his current state — that specific access to honesty that alcohol sometimes gave people before giving everything else. "You were my favourite person. That doesn't change."

You looked at him.

And there was the problem — because underneath the ridiculousness of the situation, the hour, his state, there was something real you could see and that made it difficult to be completely cold. You had known him for a long time, you knew the Desiré who wasn't drunk, you knew the difference between them.

"I know," you said, more quietly than before.

He looked at you. Something passed across his face — recognition, perhaps, that he had heard something different in the tone.

And then you straightened up. "But I'm with someone. And that's not going to change tonight."

Desiré stood in the doorway for a moment with the expression of someone arriving at the conclusion they had been avoiding. Then he sighed — a sigh that was the compressed version of a great many things — and his posture shifted from argument to something more resigned and a little more like himself.

"Alright," he said, with a dignity that was noticeably good for his current state. "Okay. But listen." He raised his index finger with the solemnity of someone about to make an important declaration. "Next life then. But heads up — if things go wrong with this guy, you remember I'm number two on your list. Don't even think about it, just call me."

You looked at him for a second.

"Number two?" you repeated.

"Your boyfriend comes first. But if you two ever break up..." he said through a laugh, like he couldn't believe he was actually saying it. "Remember me. I want to be second in line."

You closed your eyes, breathed, and when you opened them there was a smile at the corner of your mouth that you hadn't authorised but couldn't prevent. "You're an idiot."

"I'm number two," he corrected, with conviction.

"I'm calling you a taxi."

"You don't have to..."

"Desiré."

He went quiet at the tone.

You picked up your phone, called the taxi, and stayed in the doorway while he waited with the resignation of someone who lost a battle but is noting things down for a long-term strategy that only exists in his head. When the car arrived he went with the slightly exaggerated ease of someone proving they can walk in a straight line.

At the car door he turned.

"Number two," he said, pointing at you.

"Go to sleep, Desiré."

He got in the car.

You closed the door and stood in the hallway for a second before heading straight to bed. After what had just happened, sleep felt like the only reasonable thing to do. The problem was, your brain hadn't quite caught up yet.

You picked up your phone to text your boyfriend, stared at the screen for a moment, then set it back down without typing a word.

Not because there was anything to hide.

Just because, at two-thirty in the morning, some things were easier to sort through on your own before trying to put them into words.

"Number two," you murmured to yourself.

Then you covered your eyes with both hands, laughing quietly.

Summary: Jude Bellingham Girlfriend had just won Wimbledon. And that day Jude helps beat Norway in the World Cup. He calls her congratulating her. But let’s say Reader can’t stay away too long.

A/N: Hopefully I didn’t get dates and times wrong here. But I Do Hope You All Enjoy. Please Follow, Like, And Reblog.

The first thing Jude did after the final whistle wasn’t celebrate. Not really. Of course, he hugged his teammates. He smiled for the cameras. He heard the chants from the fans and felt the adrenaline of helping England reach the next stage of the World Cup. But there was one person he wanted to talk to. One person who had been on his mind the entire day. You.

The timing was almost impossible. You were playing the biggest match of your career at Wimbledon while he was preparing for one of the biggest matches of his. Two different sports and two different dreams. But both of you knew exactly what the other was feeling. The pressure, nerves, and hope.

And when Jude finally got back to the hotel after England’s win over Norway, his phone was already full of messages. But one stood out.

You: Wimbledon champion 🏆🎾❤️

He smiled instantly you had done it you won the Wimbledon. His girlfriend the person he watched practice for hours, the person who stayed up late studying opponents, the person who pushed through every difficult day was now a Grand Slam champion.

He immediately called you and you answered almost right away. “Hi, World Cup hero.” Jude laughed. “Hi, Wimbledon champion.” You both stayed quiet for a second, just smiling at each other through the screen. “I can’t believe you did it,” he said softly. You shook your head. “I can’t believe you did it.” “I mean it, Y/n. Wimbledon.” “I mean it too, Jude. You scored twice.”

He smiled, looking down shyly. “You watched?” “Of course I watched.” “And you?” “Of course I watched.” For a moment, neither of you cared about the trophies, the cameras, or the attention. It was just the two of you. Two athletes who understood each other. “I wish I was there,” you whispered. “Me too.” He leaned closer to the camera. “But I’m so proud of you.” Your smile softened. “You were nervous before your match.” “So were you.” “Yeah.” “And look at us.” You laughed. “Look at us.”

The next morning, Jude was exhausted. The kind of tired where his body wanted sleep, but his mind was still replaying every moment of the match. He was sitting in his hotel room when there was a knock at the door. He frowned as he wasn’t expecting anyone. When he opened it, he froze. “Y/n?”

You stood there with a suitcase, wearing a huge smile. For a second, he genuinely looked like he forgot how to speak. “What are you doing here?” You shrugged. “I thought you might need a proper congratulations.”Before he could even respond, you wrapped your arms around him. Jude immediately hugged you back, holding you tightly.

“I thought you were staying in London.” “I was.” “You flew here?” “Yeah.” He stared at you. “You won Wimbledon yesterday.” “And you helped England win yesterday.” A small smile appeared on his face. “You’re crazy.” “You love me.” “I do.” He kissed your forehead.

“Very much.” You smiled against him. “I wanted you to have someone here who understands.” His expression softened. Because that was exactly it. Everyone could celebrate the goals and trophies. But you understood the work behind them. The lonely training sessions and the sacrifices and pressure that came along with it.

LET ME IN

a michael olise oneshot ✦ masterlist

synopsis you’ve spent your whole life learning how to survive on your own. michael just wants to learn how to survive with you.

warnings independent!reader, argument, michael just wants to fit in your life btw, he loves yoooou, he’s understanding, reader being vulnerable, make up

wordcount you know better than to ask me

a/n michael being understanding is kinda sexy. hope you'll like it bb !

sometimes, love didn’t end with slammed doors.

sometimes, it looked like unopened messages because you didn’t want to bother him.

sometimes, it sounded like “it’s okay, i’ve already done it.”

sometimes, it looked like carrying every grocery bag yourself because asking for help felt, unfamiliar.

the thing about surviving on your own for so long was that eventually, independence stopped being a strength.

it became instinct.

and instincts were hard to argue with.

even when someone loved you enough to try.

michael watched you hang your keys on the hook by the front door before disappearing into the kitchen.

“you didn’t wait for me ?”

you looked over your shoulder, confused. “for what ?”

“to pick up your prescription.”

“oh.” you shrugged, opening the cupboard. “i already got it.”

another “i already.”

he’d been hearing that sentence a lot lately. “i would’ve taken you.”

“i know, baby.”

“you didn’t even text me.”

“you were at training.”

“so ?”

“so ? you were busy, michael.”

michael leaned against the kitchen island, arms folded across his chest. “you keep deciding that for me.”

you frowned.

“deciding what ?”

“what’s worth my time or not.”

the room fell quiet. you busied yourself putting groceries away instead of looking at him.

“i was just trying to make things easier.”

“for who ?”

his voice wasn’t loud.

that somehow made it worse.

you paused, a carton of milk still in your hands. “what is that supposed to mean ?”

“it means i don’t know where i fit in your life anymore.” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

he laughed once.

not because anything was funny.

“your car broke down.” he started to list. “you handled it.”

“you were sick, the other day.” two of his fingers were pointed out. “you went to the doctor alone.”

“you moved furniture.”

“you hired movers.”

“you had a terrible week.”

“you told your friends before you told me.”

each sentence landed softer than the last. not accusations. just observations. “i just,” he looked at you, jaw tight. “i want to be your partner.”

“you are.”

“am i really ?”

you stayed silent.

“you don’t let me carry anything.” his eyes met yours.

“not the heavy stuff.”

“and not the little stuff either.”

“you never need me.”

you looked away. “that’s not true, michael.”

“then tell me the last thing you actually let me do for you.”

silence.

long enough to answer for you.

he wasn’t asking because he wanted to feel useful. he was asking because he wanted to feel included.

and somehow, those weren’t the same thing anymore.

you hated the way he was looking at you. he wasn’t angry. he was hurt.

and that, was always harder to look at.

“michael,”

“no.” he shook his head before you could finish. “i’m not asking you to depend on me for everything.”

“then what are you asking ?”

his jaw tightened.

“to let me in.”

a bitter laugh escaped your lips. “you are in. more than anyone actually.”

“am i though ?”

his voice cracked so quietly you almost missed it. “because from where i’m standing…”

he gestured around the apartment. “it feels like you’ve already built a whole life that works perfectly without me.”

you stared at him. “I don’t understand why you’re making this into such a big deal.”

“i’m making it a big deal ?”

“i’m capable of doing things on my own.”

“i know you are.”

“then what is the problem ?”

“the problem is that you always choose to.”

silence.

“i don’t even get the chance.” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“so now you’re upset because i’m independent ?”

“that’s not what i said, don’t twist my words.”

“it sure sounds like it.”

“bro.” his voice was firmer now. “i’m upset because every single time life gets hard,”

he took a step closer to you.

“your first instinct is to make sure i never have to know.”

you opened your mouth and closed it right away. because he wasn’t wrong.

but he wasn’t right either.

“i just don’t like bothering people.”

“you don’t bother me.”

“i know.”

“no.” he shook his head. “i don’t think you do, though.”

you stayed silent again. this time that silence was heavy.

the kind that made the apartment suddenly feel too small.

“you know what hurts the most ?”

you looked at him despite yourself. “i find out about your life the same way everybody else does.”

“what ?”

“you tell me after.”

"You already handled it."

"You already figured it out."

"You already fixed it."

he chuckled, shaking his head. “you don’t even realize you do it anymore.”

your chest tightened. “i never meant to—”

“I know.” he cut you off immediately. “i know you didn’t.”

his voice softened a little, and somehow, that made everything worse.

“i’m not accusing you.”

“i’m just telling you how it feels.”

he swallowed. “it feels like…” he searched for the words. “you’ve convinced yourself there’s no room for me.”

you felt something defensive rise in your chest.

“okay now, that’s ridiculous.”

“is it ?”

“it is.”

“you don’t believe i love you ?”

your eyebrows knitted together. “what ?”

“if you believed I loved you, why do you act like asking me for help would be asking too much ?”

he looked straight at you.

the question hit you harder than you expected.

because you didn’t have an answer.

not one you wanted to say out loud.

You broke eye contact first. “i just,” your fingers nervously played with the sleeve of your hoodie. “i’ve always been like this.”

“i know.”

“i don’t know how to stop.”

michael closed the distance between you. not enough to touch you. just enough that his voice didn’t have to be loud.

“i’m not asking you to stop being strong.”

his eyes searched yours.

“i’m asking you to stop acting like you have to be strong all the time.”

it was your turn to chuckle. not because anything was funny. because if you didn’t laugh, you were scared you might cry.

“you think i want to act like this ?”

michael frowned.

“what ?”

“you think i enjoy feeling like i have to do everything ?” your voice cracked for the first time. “i don’t.”

you took a breath. “i hate it.”

michael stayed silent.

“i hate that asking for help feels wrong.”

“i hate that every time something happens my first thought isn’t ‘who can i call ?’ ”

your shoulders shook.

“it’s,”

you swallowed.

“it’s,”

you couldn’t even finish.

michael didn’t move, didn’t interrupt you, didn’t rush you.

and finally, you whispered, “i don’t know how to be looked after.”

his eyes softened. “so that’s what this is.”

you frowned.

“what ?”

“you don’t push me away because you don’t trust me.” he took one careful step forward. “you push me away because you don’t know what it feels like when someone stays.”

…

your lips parted. nothing came out. then, very quietly :

“do you know why i never ask ?”

he shook his head.

“because everyone leaves eventually.”

he stayed silent.

“so i learned how to do everything myself.”

you took another breath.

“that way,” you stared at the floor. “when they leave,” your voice barely existed anymore. “nothing changes.”

the apartment went completely still. michael didn’t answer. not because he didn’t have anything to say.

Because he finally understood. this had never been about groceries. or doctor’s appointments. or moving furniture.

it had never been about independence.

it was survival.

he crossed the space between you carefully. as though one wrong movement might make you disappear.

“baby,” his hand hovered near yours. just touching. just waiting. “i’m not trying to make your life harder.”

you closed your eyes.

“i know.”

“no, i don’t think you do.” he gave a small shake of his head, smiling.

he looked at you through his lashes “i’m trying to build one with you.”

a life.

not moments.

not emergencies.

not things you only faced once they’d already happened.

a life.

“let me be there before you need me.”

your bottom lip trembled.

“i don’t know how, michael.”

“i know.”

he smiled sadly.

“we’ll learn.”

“together.”

you looked at him for what felt like the first time since the argument had started. “i’m sorry,” your voice came out barely above a whisper.

michael looked almost offended. he let out the softest huff of a laugh.

“if anything i should be the one sorry. i’m sorry for not trying to understand you earlier.”

he finally reached for your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours like they belonged there. and for the first time in a very long time…

the idea of not carrying everything alone, didn’t feel quite so impossible.

© written by melosgoated | inspo is free, copying is lazy. keep it cute y’all.

PART THREE of Jersey

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♡ Pairing: Michael Olise x black!popstar!reader ♡ Summary: You've written a song about Michael, and you make him star in the music video in which you also wear his jersey. Witnessing the obvious chemistry and tension between the two of you, the internet is quick to understand that the two of you are together. ♡ Content/warnings: fluff, sfw, bit of a smau, Michael being a little tease, Michael being down bad for reader, fools in love ♡ Word Count: 3.7k

PART ONE. PART TWO.

•☆•••☆•

There was something thrilling about being in a secret relationship. The late-night calls, the confidential trips to visit him, the subliminal messages spoken in interviews that only you and Michael could understand. The secrecy was amusing. It almost had a taste of transgression, of doing something forbidden. Living a sweet and cozy love, unknown by the world. Safe from the paparazzi's harassment and the internet's entitlement.

The chess games, the FaceTimes, the presents in your mailbox, the talks on the balcony, the cuddles in bed, the baths together, the secret vacations; all these moments belonged to the two of you. It was comfortable.

At first.

It was also bittersweet. That lingering fear of getting caught. That everlasting wonder if this or that person had recognized either of you. The never-ending lies in front of the cameras. What began as a way to protect one so sacred a bond soon turned into hiding that resembled shame a little too closely. It was exhausting. To pretend. To bite your tongue. To swallow back your words.

Sometimes, you just want to talk about the beauty of Munich. To share your experience at the stadium on a match day. To gush over your boyfriend. To say you were in love.