mia

mia 18 chelsea fc she/her

+ — #. masterlist

— # i don’t condone any type of racist, hating, or discriminating propaganda or advertisement on my page. we all bleed the same blood.

requests are open.

support gaza

you’re so sweet you’re sweet talking me into posting my whole entire notes app

and she’s dangerous

I just wanted to say that I absolutely love all your work especially the musiala fics and that you’re so insanely talented and you seem like such a wonderful person

xxx

i literally love this so much thank you you are so incredibly sweet!!

i have so many but sosososo many musiala drafts (and really many other footballers too) waiting to be posted bc long before i made this account i would write fics and i was a little scaredy cat just so scared to post them. so to hear that you are enjoying them and that it is content that you like to see makes me so happy

How about dad!jude treating their twins unfairly. Like he’s more closer to the son and not so much their babygirl. And babygirl can feel it, see it but doesn’t voice it out to him, but she tells reader abt it and she starts crying bcuz of it.

I think maybe this could be like an occurring event type of thing and reader tries to talk some sense into Jude, so he dedicates a day for a daddy daughter date!

I want this angsty..veryyyy and then the typical happy ending heh 🙂‍↕️

no love i don’t mind another heart wrenching angst is definitely in the works

My heart clenched so many times, felt amazing 🙂

Thank you for your hard work 💗💗💗

that’s not embarrassing AT ALL that’s actually what i want them to do idk if it’s weird but i love to feel that sad deep angst before the sweetness

im sooo glad you liked it!!! but am i crazy if i say i didn’t feel like it was sad enough

thank you so much i’m so glad to know you’re enjoying your reads so far!!!

yes im definitely planning on writing something for him there’s actually something in the works from a request that just needs a little shaping and will be out hopefully sooner than later (i’m crafting that hate sex smut cause that be hard)

synopsis — all of the silly things you and jamal did that made everyone question whether it was just friendship or something else.

# warnings: a lil kiss

# wc: 1.4k

# mia’s note: i’ve decided ill prolong amongst it all chapters and only post one a day so we don’t say bye to king and queen y/n and michael. i lowk say the same thing in every note sorry. reqs are open. with sooo much love, mia.

part one. part two. part three. part four.

masterlist

people liked to say that habits were hard to break, but they never talked about what happened after they were broken.

the empty space they left behind. the way your body still remembered them long after your mind told it not to.

it had been almost a month. long enough for the distance to become routine.

long enough for everyone else to stop expecting things to go back to normal.

except nothing about it felt normal.

the training ground was quieter now. because there was something missing between every conversation.

something nobody could quite name even though everyone knew exactly what it was.

“this is painful,” manuel spoke around a mouthful of pasta.

linda didn’t even look up from her lunch. “mhm.”

“seriously.”

raul frowned. “what?”

manuel pointed his fork across the cafeteria. “look.”

you were sitting with the physios and jamal was sitting with the players.

there wasn’t anything strange about that but there used to be.

before, one of you always drifted toward the other eventually. you’d wander over halfway through lunch because you wanted to complain about paperwork or he’d appear beside you because he’d decided your food looked better than his.

it happened so naturally that nobody ever remembered who moved first.

today neither of you moved at all.

every few minutes, one of you glanced across the room. and every few minutes, the other looked away a second too late.

“they look like they’ve gone through a divorce,” manuel muttered.

linda sighed. “they were never together.”

“exactly. i think we broke them.”

you told yourself you were getting used to it but you really weren’t. the proof came in tiny moments.

you laughed at something raul said and instinctively, your head turned to look for jamal.

he wasn’t beside you anymore. of course he wasn’t.

you weren’t used to it. you were not used to it at all.

your smile faded before you even realized it had.

jamal wasn’t doing any better.

during recovery, one of the younger players asked him to pass a resistance band. and, without thinking, he turned toward the physio room.

“hey, can you—”

he stopped. you weren’t standing beside him. you hadn’t been standing beside him for weeks.

“never mind,” he muttered.

he grabbed it himself.

the younger player frowned. “you okay?”

“yeah.”

he wasn’t. and the worst part wasn’t the silence. it was how polite you’d become.

“morning.”

“morning.”

“good session?”

“yeah.”

“you?”

“good.”

that was it. years of inside jokes and years of shared coffee and years of movie nights and years of reaching for each other without thinking reduced to conversations that wouldn’t have sounded out of place between strangers.

how unfair was it? jamal and you had been in your own bubble, yes. but why did anyone need to call it out?

why did they ruin it?

sometimes you caught him looking at you. sometimes he caught you doing the same.

neither of you ever walked over. because every time you almost did, you remembered the room going quiet and remembered everyone’s faces.

friday evening, rain hammered against the windows.

everyone had gone home except the staff finishing paperwork. you were one of them. reorganizing one of the storage cupboards.

it didn’t really need organizing. nobody would’ve mind if it stayed the same. but going home meant sitting alone with your thoughts.

you were halfway through lining up tape rolls by size when a familiar voice came from the doorway.

“you’re avoiding home too?”

you turned.

jamal.

his training kit had been swapped for a hoodie. his hair was still damp from the shower.

everything inside you relaxed for just a second. and for that same second you found yourself daydreaming.

then you remembered.

“something like that.”

he nodded. “same.”

silence filled the room. which was weird, because he hated the silence. you hated it too.

it used to be impossible between the two of you, and now it arrived every single time.

jamal looked around the room and then back at you.

“can we stop doing this?”

you frowned. “doing what?”

“pretending we don’t know each other.”

your chest tightened. “we’re not pretending.”

“aren’t we?” he laughed quietly. “because i don’t remember the last proper conversation we had.”

you looked down.

neither did you.

“i miss you,” the words came out so simply that they almost hurt more. “i miss my best friend.”

your eyes burned. “i’m still here.”

“are you?” he took one slow step closer. “because i feel like i lost you.”

you swallowed hard. “i thought i lost you.”

he looked genuinely confused. his brown furrowing. “why would you think that?”

“because…” you laughed shakily. “…you stopped reaching for me.”

his face fell.

your voice was quieter now. “i thought you didn’t want me to anymore.”

“what?”

“everyone looked at us like we’d been doing something wrong,” you rubbed at your eyes as soon as you felt them burn. “i thought maybe i’d made you uncomfortable all these years and neither of us realized until they pointed it out.”

“you’ve never made me uncomfortable,” his answer came so quickly that you barely had time to breathe. “not once.”

“then why did you stop?”

“because i thought i was making you uncomfortable.”

you stared at him for one long moment before you both laughed.

small. disbelieving. you guys had pushed the other away for the same reasons without realizing all you were doing was hurting each other and yourselves.

“we’re idiots,” you whispered.

“massive ones.”

“we spent a month avoiding each other because we were both trying to protect the other.”

neither of you noticed who moved first.

“do you know what manuel said to me yesterday?”

you shook your head.

“he told me that watching us now hurts more than watching us when we were oblivious.”

you smiled sadly. “linda told me something similar.”

“what?”

“‘you know,’” you said quietly, mimicking linda’s voice. “‘you two looked happier before you started worrying about what everyone else thought.’”

jamal smiled. “she’s right.”

“she usually is.”

he was close enough now that your shoulders almost touched. almost.

the old version of him would’ve closed the distance without thinking, but this version hesitated.

it wasn’t because he wanted to, but he’d spent weeks teaching himself not to.

you saw it, the hesitation. the way his hand almost lifted before stopping.

your heart broke a little. but, instead of pulling away, you reached first.

you slipped your fingers into his and his breath caught.

“i’m tired,” you whispered.

“me too.”

“i’m tired of thinking before every little thing.”

“me too.”

“i’m tired of missing you while you’re standing right in front of me.”

his eyes softened. “me too.”

he looked at your joined hands and then back at you. “can i stop pretending now?”

a tear escaped before you could stop it. “please.”

he smiled. the same smile you’d spent weeks pretending you didn’t miss.

his free hand came up slowly, giving you every chance to move away.

but you leaned into it.

his thumb brushed gently across your cheek. “there you are.”

you laughed through your tears. “i never went anywhere.”

“i know. i just couldn’t find you.”

you closed the last inch between you by resting your forehead against his.

for a moment that was enough. but then he kissed you.

softly. carefully. and gently. just like jamal was.

after weeks of denying every instinct he had, he wanted to remember what it felt like to finally listen to one.

you smiled into the kiss almost immediately and he laughed against your lips.

“there she is.”

“shut up.”

“missed that too.”

you kissed him again before he could tease you any further.

this one lasted longer. it was a bit warmer too. full of everything neither of you had managed to say over the past month.

when you finally pulled apart, you were both smiling. the kind of smiles that hurt your cheeks.

neither of you noticed the three people standing just outside the half-open door.

manuel folded his arms. “about time.”

raul let out the breath he’d apparently been holding for weeks. “i was starting to think we’d have to lock them in a room.”

linda watched the two of you through the gap in the doorway as jamal quietly tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear without even realizing he’d done it.

you didn’t flinch.

you didn’t second guess it. you just smiled at him.

she smiled too. “looks like they finally remembered how to stop thinking.”

none of them interrupted. some reunions deserved privacy. and some stories had been love stories long before the people living them had found the courage to call them that.

manuel nodded. “alright, linda. it’s our turn.”

“holy shi—“

synopsis — after months of always coming second to everyone else, y/n finally tells jobe the one thing she’s been too afraid to admit: she doesn’t feel chosen anymore.

# warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive at the end but no explicit scenes

# wc: 4.2k

# mia’s note: i say i post all of the things i already have written before finishing amongst it all so we don’t say bye to michael and y/n just yet. reqs are open and my inbox is always open to talks. with sooo much love, mia.

masterlist

the first time it happened, she didn’t think much of it. football was football. it came first because it had to.

training twice a day, recovery sessions, media obligations, sponsor shoots, flights that blurred into hotels and stadiums until the weeks stopped feeling like weeks. she knew exactly what she’d signed up for when she’d fallen in love with jobe.

she never expected all of him. just some of him.

a text before bed or an hour together. maybe even a lazy breakfast if they were lucky.

that was enough. it really was.

so when he texted

jobe ❤️

boys want to grab dinner after training. rain check? love you.

she smiled to herself, sent back a little heart, and heated up the pasta she’d made for two. she packed the second portion into a container and slid it into the fridge. he’d probably eat it after training tomorrow.

no point wasting food.

the second time, it was a bit more disappointing because she’d already done her hair. not because they were doing anything special. but he had said; “you’ve got me all evening tomorrow.”

and that was especial on its own.

those words had stayed with her through the entire work day.

she bought strawberries, his favorite drink, the expensive cookies he always pretended weren’t worth buying before somehow finishing half the packet.

by six-thirty she’d lit one candle. by seven she checked the time, and by seven fifteen her phone buzzed.

jobe ❤️

i’m so sorry.

adam convinced everyone to go bowling. haven’t seen them properly in weeks.

can we do tomorrow?

she stared at the screen and then looked around the apartment.

there were two mugs. two plates. his keys abandoned beside the fruit bowl where he always dropped them. his training boots by the front door because he’d forgotten to put them away. the strawberries sitting in cold water in the sink.

they couldn’t do tomorrow. they could, but she didn’t want tomorrow.

still, she typed:

of course.

deleted it and then typed again.

have fun ❤️

he reacted with a heart.

and that was it.

tomorrow became next week. next week became after the away match. after the away match became maybe sunday.

sunday became “sorry, babe.”

always sorry. always busy. always another promise.

she knew he was sorry. she did at first, but now she wasn’t so sure. was he really sorry if it kept happening?

it wasn’t dramatic. that was the worst part. nothing exploded and nobody screamed. there wasn’t some awful betrayal.

but being chosen second again and again and again stopped feeling accidental and started becoming a tendency that she stopped being okay with.

“what are you smiling at?”

y/n looked up from the café table.

her friend emily nodded toward her phone.

“oh,” she hadn’t realized she’d been smiling.

“jobe?”

y/n nodded. “he finally has saturday off.”

emily grinned. “oh my god. actual miracle.”

“i know.”

“when was your last proper date?”

y/n frowned and thought about it for a few seconds.

emily’s smile slowly disappeared. “you don’t know.”

“i…”

she tried counting backwards.

the charity gala? no. he’d left halfway through because some of the boys wanted drinks.

his birthday? also no. that became a surprise dinner the team organized.

the beach? months. many months ago.

“…i actually don’t know.”

emily didn’t say anything and she also didn’t need to, because it was weird. it wasn’t okay. and it didn’t need to be said to know.

saturday.

finally.

no training. no match. no travel.

nothing. just her and jobe and the time they’d both been craving.

y/n woke up before him like she usually did.

sunlight spilled through the curtains, painting soft golden lines across the bedroom. beside her, jobe was still asleep, one arm stretched across the mattress where she’d been moments earlier.

she smiled to herself.

today. finally, today.

she slipped quietly out of bed so she wouldn’t wake him.

she cleaned the apartment. changed their bedsheets, humming quietly to herself as she tucked the corners in the way he never could.

bought flowers because he always joked she treated the flat like an elderly grandmother’s cottage.

she laughed to herself while arranging them anyway.

by noon she’d already planned everything.

jobe had left a little earlier to meet one of the physios for a quick recovery session, promising he’d be home by lunchtime.

“don’t make plans without me,” he’d laughed before leaving.

“wouldn’t dream of it,” she’d smiled back.

she believed him.

breakfast together. walk through the city. movie. dinner.

nothing extravagant.

just them. and that was so much more than enough.

but at one o’clock her phone buzzed.

jobe ❤️

morning beautiful.

she smiled immediately and another message appeared.

jobe ❤️

small change of plans.

her stomach sank before she’d even opened it and the smile faded as fast as it came.

jobe ❤️

the lads are doing a barbecue.

promise i’ll see you tomorrow.

she read it once. then twice. then a third time.

the flowers suddenly looked ridiculous. she forgot the joy she’d felt just a few hours ago. the joy that always seemed to come and to the same way every time.

she didn’t answer immediately.

five minutes passed. and then ten.

okay.

he liked the message. liked it. not replied. not “i’m sorry.” not “i know we planned today.”

did he not care that he had ruined the plans that they’d made for the millionth time?

she placed the phone face down. the apartment was silent. too silent.

she stood in the middle of the kitchen for a moment, surrounded by the groceries she’d bought for the two of them.

the flowers she’d arranged that morning brightened the windowsill. the movie she’d picked out waited paused on the television. his favorite cookies sat unopened on the counter.

everything in the apartment looked like him, yet he wasn’t there.

eventually, she wandered into the bedroom and sat on the edge of their bed and stared at the wall.

the barbecue filled his instagram stories.

well, not his but his friends’.

someone filming him flipping burgers and someone throwing a football toward him.

jobe laughing so hard he doubled over.

another video of everyone piled into the pool.

the caption: ‘finally got the whole gang together.’

as if the gang wasn’t together like three times a week.

y/n watched every single story. she didn’t even want to, but she could not stop.

there he was. smiling, relaxed. looking lighter than he’d looked in weeks. exactly the version of him she’d been waiting to spend time with.

only someone else got him first. again.

sunday came.

and after training, he actually came home while she was still awake.

late, but he came home and she could see him before he was gone again.

she heard his keys rattle against the front door before the lock clicked open.

“baby?” he called as he stepped inside.

she looked up from the sofa. “hey.”

he smiled the moment he saw her.

his hair was still damp from showering. he was wearing a grey hoodie and training shorts.

the familiar smile that always made her chest feel warm.

“there she is.”

he leaned in to kiss her and she kissed him back automatically.

loving him had become instinct.

“missed you.”

“i missed you too.”

he stepped inside and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“sorry about yesterday.”

“it’s okay.”

he smiled. “thanks for understanding.”

those words landed strangely. and she could feel when it started to bother her, because why had he said that?

not ‘i’m sorry i hurt you.’

not ‘i know i disappointed you.’

just ‘thanks for understanding’ as though she’d done him a favor.

she didn’t push at that. he was finally home and she didn’t feel like ruining it with a dumb fight over a wrong choice of words.

they sat in the sofa after she showered and watched a film.

well, he watched a film. but halfway through, his phone buzzed.

he looked at it, smiled, typed something that made him smile even more, and then locked it.

three minutes later, another buzz. and then another, and then another.

she tried not to notice. she really did. until he laughed quietly at whatever message had come through.

“what?”

he looked up. “hm?”

“you laughed.”

“oh,” he smiled sheepishly. “the boys.”

“what about them?”

“they’re planning a golf day.”

y/n felt a slight pinch on her chest. “oh.”

“they’re idiots.”

“i’m sure.”

he chuckled and she looked back toward the television. only thing was that she’d stopped following the movie almost twenty minutes earlier.

“do you want takeaway tonight?”

he looked over. “hm?”

“dinner.”

“oh,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “i actually promised i’d jump on playstation with the lads tonight.”

something inside her gave way. it wasn’t fair anymore. it never had been, but it had reached a limit.

the home she’d built with jobe didn’t feel like a home anymore. she had given up everything and moved to germany when they both realized video calls and frequent visits weren’t cutting it anymore.

but now she wondered if he even wanted her there now, because it didn’t feel like it.

she didn’t feel neglected, she felt unwanted.

“right.”

“but i’ll stay another hour.”

as though that fixed it. as though love worked like overtime.

he smiled, completely unaware. “you don’t mind, do you?”

there it was. the question he’d stopped asking because he’d grown used to one answer.

no. i don’t mind. i’m okay. go. have fun.

she opened her mouth and the words were already there waiting and ready. the same ones she’d given him every single time.

but this time they refused to come out.

she could feel the anger simmering through her body, because jobe was no kid and his antics weren’t just painful, they were tiring.

“jobe.”

“hm?”

“when was the last time you actually chose me?”

he frowned. “what?”

her voice cracked. “don’t make me explain the question.”

he stared at her.

she laughed a short, humourless laugh that disappeared almost as quickly as it came.

“no, seriously,” she shook her head. “when was it?”

he blinked. “y/n…”

she stood before he could finish. “i’m asking you,” her hands flew up in frustration. “when was the last time you had an entire day off and your first thought was, ‘i want to spend today with my girlfriend’?”

he opened his mouth but nothing came out.

she watched him think. actually think.

how sad was that? that he actually had to think about the last time he chose his girlfriend?

his eyebrows knitted together as he searched his memory and she watched every second of it.

watched him struggle. watched him come up empty.

her eyes burned.

“that’s unbelievable,” she whispered.

he looked up immediately. “baby—”

“no,” she stepped backwards. “don’t call me that right now.”

her voice shook. “because i’m standing here asking my own boyfriend when he last chose me…” she laughed again. this time it sounded closer to a sob. “…and you can’t answer.”

“i’m trying—”

“that’s the problem!” she cried. “you’re trying!”

tears spilled over before she could stop them. she wiped them away angrily with the heel of her hand. her chest was aching horribly and her head was pounding, she felt trapped inside of her own skin.

“you shouldn’t have to think this hard!”

he flinched. she saw it and she didn’t soften. because she’d been soft for months.

she laughed bitterly. “do you know how many people i’ve defended you to?” she didn’t wait for an answer. “literally everyone.”

“‘he doesn’t mean it.’ ‘he loves me.’ ‘he’ll make it up to me.’”

another tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away roughly. “and every single time you proved them right instead of me.”

his face fell. “y/n…”

she shook her head hard. “i’m angry.”

she pressed a hand against her chest as if it would make it hurt less. “i’m so angry,” her voice broke. “do you know why?”

he couldn’t answer.

“because i miss you,” she laughed through another sob. “isn’t that pathetic?”

she looked around their apartment. their apartment. the place they’d picked together.

the sofa they’d argued over in the furniture shop because he wanted grey and she insisted beige would make it feel warmer.

his boots by the front door, his hoodie over the dining chair, his coffee mug still in the sink.

everything in the apartment reminded her that he lived there and somehow she still missed him.

she looked back at him. eyes red and cheeks wet. “how can i miss someone i live with?”

the question shattered something inside him because he didn’t have an answer.

she shook her head. “you’re here,” she pointed toward the floor. “your clothes are here, your boots are here. your toothbrush is here. but you…” her voice became almost impossibly quiet. “…you never are.”

the room fell silent because what could he possibly say?

she took a shaky breath and then another before looking him straight in the eyes.

“i’m not asking you to choose me over football,” she said firmly. “i never have. i’m asking why…” another tear escaped. “…every single time football finally lets you breathe you still don’t choose me.”

he couldn’t even pretend he had an answer.

the silence after her words didn’t just fill the apartment, it settled into it.

into the walls. into the untouched mugs on the coffee table. into the film still playing quietly in the background, actors laughing at jokes neither of them heard.

jobe stared at her and she stared back. waiting not for an apology but for an answer. for anything.

“i don’t know.” his voice barely reached her. it was so quiet she almost thought she’d imagined it.

but she hadn’t. and she laughed the kind of laugh someone lets out when they’re trying very, very hard not to completely fall apart. “you don’t know.”

he swallowed. “i’m trying to think—”

“i know you are,” she cut him off immediately. “i can see you trying.”

her voice cracked for the third time. “that’s what’s making me so angry.”

she wiped beneath her eyes before another tear could fall.

she hated crying. she hated that he was seeing her cry.

she hated even more that she was crying because she had to convince the man she loved that she deserved to be chosen.

“i shouldn’t have to ask you that,” her breathing became uneven. “that shouldn’t be a difficult question.”

“i know.”

“no you don’t.”

he took a hesitant step toward her. “y/n—”

“goodness, jobe, stop,” she immediately stepped back.

the movement was small. barely noticeable. but it felt like she’d shoved him halfway across the room because she has never stepped away from him.

his chest tightened. she saw it and she didn’t care. because she’d spent months swallowing every ounce of disappointment to protect his feelings.

she didn’t have anything left. everything around her looked like a home but she’d never felt lonelier inside it.

“i wake up beside you,” she said quietly. “and before i’ve even finished making coffee you’re gone.”

he looked away.

it was more painful than she thought. she didn’t know she had felt this was about the whole situation until it became too much.

she would fall asleep by herself, and then be comes home, kissed her on the forehead, tells her he missed her, and she’s supposed to forget that he had eight free hours that and every single one of them belonged to somebody else.

jobe’s throat tightened painfully. “i never…” he struggled to speak. “i never thought of it like that.”

she nodded. “i know.”

“i would’ve changed,” he whispered. “if i’d known.”

she stared at him and her voice became quieter. “you should’ve known. i shouldn’t have to explain to the man i live with that i’d like to spend time with him. i shouldn’t have to compete with your friends.”

“you’re not competing.”

“aren’t i?”

he winced. she was right. she was right and she truly wished she wasn’t.

“‘he said we’d spend today together,’” she smiled bitterly. “then your message came,” she swallowed. “and i remember just staring at it. because i knew exactly what i was going to reply. i’m terrified that if i ever tell you not to you’ll resent me for it.”

jobe felt physically sick. he had made y/n, his girlfriend, the person he was sure loved the most in the world, feel like an option.

was that how she’d felt all this time?

like an option?

he ran both hands over his face. his breathing had become uneven.

“god…” he whispered. “i’ve made you feel like that?”

“yes you have.”

he looked at her as though he was seeing her for the first time.

the woman who knew how he took his coffee, who washed his training kits because she knew he’d forget, who always stocked the fridge with his favorite drinks before a match.

who stayed awake until two in the morning whenever they played away because she couldn’t sleep until she knew he’d made it back safely.

she’d spent months loving him in a hundred tiny ways and he’d been too busy looking everywhere else to notice.

he took another careful step and she immediately stepped back again.

the movement was instinctive. small and almost invisible like the first time she did it minutes ago.

but it stopped him in his tracks. she moved away from him instead of toward him. again.

and he realized, with a fear so sharp it stole the air from his lungs, he didn’t know how to get her back.

the apartment stayed quiet long after the conversation ended. she had disappeared into the hallway without another word.

jobe stood rooted to the living room floor, listening to the sound of cupboards opening then closing.

the soft rustle of fabric. he knew exactly what she was taking.

the blanket.

his chest tightened and he followed her a few moments later.

she was already spreading it across the sofa.

slowly. carefully. like it wasn’t the first time she’d done it. like she’d already decided this before he’d even asked her to stay.

“please don’t,” his voice sounded hoarse.

she didn’t answer. she only bent down to straighten the pillow.

“y/n,” he took another step. “please.”

finally, she looked at him.

her eyes were swollen and her cheeks were flushed from crying.

she looked exhausted.

“i can’t,” she looked toward the bedroom. “every time i walk in there i remember lying awake. waiting for you,” the words were barely audible. “i’d hear every car outside and wonder if it was yours. a few nights i even got up because i thought i heard your keys.”

she looked down. “it wasn’t.”

another silence.

“i don’t want to sleep in there tonight.”

he looked toward the bedroom. toward the bed they’d picked together.

the one she’d spent an hour arguing over because she wanted something soft enough that sunday mornings could last until noon.

he’d laughed when she’d insisted on testing every mattress in the shop. “we’re going to look ridiculous.”

“i don’t care,” she’d grinned. “if we’re buying a bed together, i’m making sure it’s perfect.”

he remembered that day so clearly. he remembered carrying boxes up three flights of stairs.

her laughing because he’d refused to read the instructions and pizza on the floor because they hadn’t unpacked the table yet.

their first night there. her curled against his chest whispering that “this finally feels like home.”

his throat burned. when had it stopped feeling like that for her?

after what felt like forever, he walked into the bedroom alone.

he stopped in the doorway and the room looked exactly the same.

he sat down on the edge of the mattress, the empty side of the bed looked impossibly large.

he reached out instinctively and his hand landed on cold sheets.

he hadn’t realized until that moment how every single night, no matter how late he came home, he’d reached for her without thinking.

most of the time she’d already be asleep and sometimes she’d grumble because his hands were freezing.

sometimes she’d mumble, “you’re late,” without opening her eyes.

and he’d kiss her forehead. “missed you.”

she’d always smiled half asleep. always.

tonight there was no one there.

he didn’t sleep.

he tried. but he stare at the ceiling, close his eyes, and then open them again.

every time he drifted off, he’d remember something she’d said.

your phone started making me sad.

i miss someone i live with.

i shouldn’t have to compete with your friends.

i’d started expecting you not to choose me.

each sentence replayed until it felt carved into his chest. and around three in the morning, he got out of bed. he couldn’t take it anymore.

the apartment was dark as he padded quietly toward the living room.

she was asleep. or at least she looked like she was. curled tightly beneath the blanket with one arm tucked beneath her cheek.

she looked uncomfortable. too small for the sofa.

he stood there for a long time just admiring her. she was so beautiful.

he realized that all this time he hadn’t figured that he was being that way towards her because even if he didn’t act like it, he always thought of her.

he wished to go home to their bed when training had been too long and he looked at her with the same honeymoon eyes he had whenever her beauty was too much to bear.

he wanted to wake her. to tell her he was sorry. to beg her to come upstairs.

but he walked back into the bedroom instead.

came back carrying another blanket and then another pillow.

he tucked the blanket gently over her and placed the pillow beside her. but then he froze when he felt her stir slightly.

“jobe?” her voice was thick with sleep.

“yeah.”

she blinked slowly. then looked at the extra blanket. “thanks.”

just that. then she rolled over again, facing away from him.

he stood there for another minute before quietly walking back upstairs.

the next morning felt strange.

normally, she woke him first with music playing softly in the kitchen. coffee already brewing. her humming while making breakfast. the apartment was always alive before he even opened his eyes.

this morning he was only met with silence.

he got dressed, walked downstairs, and she was already sitting at the dining table.

a mug between both hands. eyes fixed on nothing.

“morning.”

she looked up briefly. “morning.”

he opened the fridge and there was breakfast. for one.

he closed it again.

she noticed. her fingers tightened slightly around her mug. “i wasn’t sure if you’d be here.”

he looked at her. the words weren’t cruel because y/n herself wasn’t. they were honest.

he sat down across from her. “i called training.”

she frowned. “what?”

“i told them i wasn’t coming.”

her eyebrows knitted together immediately. “jobe.”

“i don’t care.”

“you have training.”

“i don’t care,” his voice wavered. “not today.”

“isn’t that ironic?”

she didn’t answer.

“months,” he whispered. “months of you asking for one day and now i’d give up every session this week just to get yesterday back.”

she closed her eyes and he continued before she could stop him.

“i’ve been thinking all night.”

“jobe—”

“please,” he shook his head. “please let me finish.”

she stayed quiet.

he looked down at his hands. he was a bit more desperate now. after a night without her in the same bed, he realized he did not want to lose her. and that everything they were facing looked like she was about to slip completely from him.

“i’ve spent months letting the person i love the most feel like she had to fit around my life…” he laughed bitterly. “…instead of building one with her.”

she looked away.

“i’m not asking you to forgive me today,” he shook his head. “i don’t deserve that.”

“i’m asking you…” his voice wavered again. “…to let me earn you back.”

she didn’t answer immediately.

instead, she looked at him. his eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a mess. he looked like he hadn’t slept.

he looked scared. but not scared she’d stay angry, scared she’d stop loving him.

“come here.”

the words left her quietly.

he blinked. “what?”

“come here.”

he stood so quickly the chair scraped against the floor and he stopped beside her. hesitating.

like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch her anymore.

she stood too and they looked at each other for a moment.

then she wrapped her arms around him.

he broke. completely. his arms circled her so tightly it was almost desperate.

as he buried his face against her shoulder she felt him shaking.

“i’m so sorry,” it came out muffled. broken. “i’m so, so sorry.”

he said it again. and again. like saying it enough times might somehow undo everything.

she cried too. holding him just as tightly.

after a long time, she pulled back just enough to look at him. “this doesn’t disappear today.”

he nodded immediately.

“i know.”

“i’m still hurt.”

“i know.”

“i’m still angry.”

“i know.”

“but you know what i also am?”

he raised his eyebrows as a signal for her to continue speaking.

“sexually deprived.”

jobe’s eyes darkened instantly as a smile spread across his face.

it was going to be a looooong day.

“i’ll make sure to fix that,” he kissed her lips softly. “and you won’t ever have to wonder again.”

okay i love this ofcccc and thank you so much you’re so sweettt

yes keep the wilo asks coming you getting it soon when i work on the 38394994 requests i already have

you overly freaky i like that

i was thinking abt a fic where he and the reader are still in that "seeing each other but not officially together" stage. they're both at a party w some of his teammates, and then smth happens that puts the reader in the spotlight for a bit, catching calafiori's attention. he starts showing some interest in her, and one of the other players (maybe gabriel, since he's closer to willo) notices and lets willo know. the fun part is that willo gets all jealous and starts trying to subtly mark his territory... except they aren't even dating yet

idk, i just thought it'd be a cute idea if it inspires u! no pressure at all if it's not ur thing and btw, i absolutely love ur writing. it's genuinely amazing

girl STOP because i literally have this exact thing on my drafts from when i was brainstorming for part 3 of media dutiessssd i literally just have to add some seasoning to it and ill post it righhhhttttt away

also you telling me you love my writing????? i am literally INFATUATED with yours i’m actually fangirling right now

The angst, the fluff, everything.

I have this weird thing abt fanfics that when the angst makes my heart genuinely clench, I love it. Especially with the fluff at the end.

And that’s exactly what your fanfic did. I love it. Never stop writing. Now I kinda need one like that with jobe queen…

im so glad to know people like that chest aching angst with sweet comfort like i doooo

would you believe me if i said i already have one written of jobe…

do i post it or what

synopsis — after reader overhears jude calling her constant presence “annoying,” she quietly distances herself from him and his family. but as the silence she leaves behind grows impossible to ignore, jude realizes the girl he’d taken for granted was the one he’d been falling in love with all along.

# warnings: very faint angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

# wc: 5.9k

# mia’s note: while i finish up the last chapters of amongst it all i wanted to leave one of the things i had written a long time ago but never actually took the time to post. it’s long but i love it so much. reqs are open now for anons to because apparently i had them off?? with sooo much love, mia

masterlist

the first time jude noticed her, she was ten years old and sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor because she insisted the tiles were colder than chairs.

jobe had dragged her inside after school with grass stains on both of their knees and a football tucked under one arm.

“mum!” jobe shouted. “we’re starving.”

his mother looked up from the stove before smiling. “and who have you kidnapped today?”

y/n answered before jobe could. broad smile on her face. “i came willingly.”

jude, thirteen then, barely spared her a glance as he walked through the kitchen toward the fridge.

she, however, watched him like he’d personally invented gravity. and that’s when it started.

it became something everyone noticed eventually. not in the exaggerated way children teased each other, but it was just there. you could notice it without much effort.

whenever jobe invited her over, she’d end up lingering wherever jude happened to be. if jude was practicing free kicks in the garden, she’d find an excuse to sit on the patio with homework she never actually touched. if jude was watching football in the living room, she’d suddenly be interested in whichever teams were playing. if he walked into the kitchen, she’d somehow already be there asking jobe if he wanted a snack.

she wasn’t subtle. never had been. never really tried to be either.

she would ask jude questions no one else did.

“did training go well?”

“what boots are those?”

“did your ankle ever stop hurting?”

she remembered things. too many things. things that the best friend of your younger brother shouldn’t really remember.

one afternoon she looked up from helping jobe with homework and casually said; “you have trials tomorrow, right?”

jude blinked. “yeah.”

“i’ll be rooting for you.”

it was simple and quick. she said it without even expecting a reply. as if just stating something that he shouldn’t need to overthink.

she smiled before looking back down at the maths sheet as though she’d simply commented on the weather.

he remembered thinking that she was weird. not in a mean way, just weird. odd.

because why did she know that?

years passed. jobe and y/n stayed inseparable. jude became a professional footballer. they were basically the same, only older.

the visits never stopped. if anything, they became more frequent.

whenever jude came home during breaks, y/n always happened to be there. helping his mum bake, watching a movie with jobe, sitting outside with headphones around her neck laughing so hard she nearly fell off the garden chair.

it didn’t necessarily mean she was there for him. she really wasn’t. she was there because it was her home now too. that’s how she felt about it.

she’d wave when he walked in anyways. always.

a soft greeting with that sweet smile that seemed to never fade. “hi, jude,” like she’d been waiting for him.

he’d nod, small smile that didn’t always reach his eyes, respond nonchalantly. “alright,” and keep walking.

she never seemed offended. never pushed. never expected conversations longer than a few minutes. but she existed around him close enough to notice, and far enough not to get in the way.

his teammates figured it out before he ever did.

one summer, several of them were staying over while training nearby. jobe had invited y/n around because they were planning to watch a match together.

she walked into the garden carrying chips and lemonade and greet everyone with that same enthusiasm she always carried herself with.

“hi!”

and then she’d look at jude.

“hi,” with a completely different voice. smaller and softer. almost shy.

she had never been particularly shy. kept to herself maybe a little, never nervous in normal settings though.

so it wasn’t a surprise when one of his teammates noticed instantly.

after she disappeared back inside, someone elbowed him. “dude.”

“what?”

“that girl.”

“what about her?”

“she’s in love with you.”

jude nearly choked on his drink, laughing uncontrollably. “no, she isn’t.”

“oh, come off it. you didn’t see the way she looked at you?”

another teammate laughed. “i’ve seen insurance sellers less committed than her.”

jude rolled his eyes, a bit more serious now. “she’s jobe’s friend.”

“exactly.”

“so?”

“so she’s been staring at you for ten minutes.”

“i wasn’t even talking.”

“that definitely didn’t stop her, mate.”

the conversation dissolved into laughter. jude tried laughing too, but it was a different mindset now.

he couldn’t stop noticing.

the way she’d unconsciously turn toward him whenever he spoke. how she’d laugh louder when he made jokes. how she’d immediately ask if he wanted another drink before anyone else. how she always chose the chair closest to him without seeming to realise she’d done it. how she remembered tiny details he’d forgotten he’d ever mentioned.

it was a lot. it wasn’t normal.

then came the teasing.

“oh look.”

“there she is.”

“your little shadow.”

“jude’s biggest fan.”

he denied it every single time. rolling his eyes and drifting the topic to anything else.

“she’s just friends with my brother.”

“mhm.”

“nothing else.”

yet the jokes kept coming. and eventually, they started irritating him.

not because of y/n. she hadn’t done anything wrong. but everyone kept making it into something.

every time she walked over; “there she comes.”

every time she smiled; “oh, she’s looking.”

every time she asked him something; “damn, she’s obsessed.”

he started becoming hyperaware of it. of her, of where she stood, of whether people were watching, whether they were going to make another joke.

instead of simply seeing y/n, he started seeing everyone else’s reactions to y/n.

and resentment quietly settled somewhere it never should have.

it happened during another barbecue.

the house was loud as it usually was. children running through sprinklers and music floating from the speakers with adults talking over one another.

y/n and jobe had gone inside to find ice cream while jude leaned against the fence with three friends.

one of them nodded toward the patio doors. “so, when are you going to tell your girlfriend?”

jude groaned. “for god’s sake.”

“what?”

“she’s not my girlfriend.”

“you sure?”

another snorted. “mate, she follows you everywhere.”

jude rubbed a hand over his face, irritation overflowing. “i know.”

“so?”

he laughed, but there wasn’t any humor behind it. nothing was funny, he just needed the conversation to end.

“it’s honestly…” he searched for a word. one that wasn’t mean but one that could explain the situation. “…annoying.”

possibly the worst choice of wording ever.

his friends were no longer laughing. smiles had dimmed a bit as well. he was being serious.

“i can’t go anywhere in this house without her appearing.”

one of his friends chuckled. “that’s harsh.”

“i’m serious. i walk into a room and she’s there. i go outside and she’s outside. it’s like having a second little sibling.”

another laugh, but jude only shook his head. “i just want one visit where she’s not attached to my side.”

one of them muttered. “damn,” not even being funny. but there was genuinely nothing else that they could’ve said. jude wasn’t being nice.

he shrugged. “i don’t mean to sound horrible, but it gets old,” he looked down at the grass. “i don’t even know why she likes me. i’ve never done anything.”

none of them noticed the kitchen door had opened. or that y/n had frozen halfway through stepping outside. a tub of vanilla ice cream in one hand, spoons in the other.

her smile disappeared so quietly no one saw it happen. not even jude, seemingly too busy speaking his mind.

she stood there for perhaps two minutes. long enough to hear every word and long enough to understand exactly what he meant.

then she turned around and walked back inside without making a sound.

jobe found her standing in the laundry room. she was staring at the washing machine doing absolutely nothing.

“you alright?”

she blinked, being pulled out of her thoughts. “oh. yeah.”

“you found the ice cream?”

“mhm.”

“then why’re you in here?”

she looked toward the hallway.

for a second, jobe thought she’d cry. her eyes did that little thing where they watered, but this time it wasn’t out of happiness like it usually was.

instead, she smiled. “i’m suddenly not very hungry.”

“you sick?”

“no,” she handed him the tub. “you take it.”

“what about you?”

“i think my mum wanted me home anyway.”

jobe frowned. “no she didn’t.”

y/n sighed. “i know,” her smile trembled. “but i’ll pretend she did.”

before he could ask another question, she was gone.

the first few days, jude didn’t notice. not really.

life had a way of swallowing small absences before anyone realized they were gone, and he was fairly busy. like any other footballer was.

training started before sunrise, recovery sessions blurred into media obligations, flights, matches, interviews. by the time he came home, he barely registered that the house was quieter or that there was an absence that was impossible to miss.

it wasn’t until the following saturday. he walked into the kitchen, already expecting to hear two voices arguing over something ridiculous. it was mostly the same thing: jobe insisting pineapple belonged on pizza, y/n insisting it absolutely didn’t. or y/n stealing chips from the cupboard only for jobe to yell; “mum! she took the last packet again!”

but instead there was only silence. just his mother humming while she stirred a pot on the stove.

jude opened the fridge. “where’s jobe?”

“training.”

“and…” he hesitated. “…y/n?”

denise looked up. “oh. she’s not coming over much lately.”

he nodded absentmindedly. “right.”

he grabbed a bottle of water and left. it didn’t really bother him. it didn’t feel strange.

not yet.

then another week passed. then another and another.

and he noticed she’d vanished.

there was no extra backpack by the front door, no shoes kicked off in the hallway, no voice calling “hello?” before she’d even stepped inside, letting herself in like it was her house. no asking his mother if she needed help cooking, and no laughter spilling upstairs because she and jobe had found another stupid video to laugh at.

nothing.

“is y/n busy?” the question slipped out before jude realized he’d spoken.

jobe didn’t even look up from his phone. “dunno.”

“you haven’t seen her?”

he nodded. “i have.”

“so why isn’t she here?”

jobe shrugged. “she doesn’t come over anymore.”

“why?”

another shrug. “says she’s busy.”

that should’ve been enough. people got busy. they grew up and had lives to live. only issue was that y/n had never been too busy. not for jobe, not for his family, and not for him.

his eyes drifted unconsciously toward the empty chair in the garden.

the one she always chose. every single time.

and wondered why he didn’t like that she wasn’t there.

a month. one whole month and he hadn’t even seen her once. not even by accident.

until family dinner. his mother had invited y/n’s parents over, something she’d done for years.

jude almost smiled to himself while walking downstairs. absentmindedly and without questioning why. he just expected things to feel normal again.

expected y/n to already be sitting beside jobe and expected her to grin awkwardly when he walked in.

jobe looked up. “oh, jude’s here.”

she turned and barely glanced at him. “hi.”

just one word. polite, no smile, no dirty look either. but it felt dull.

then she turned straight back to jobe. “did you finish that game?”

“yeah, but you would’ve hated the ending.”

“no spoilers.”

“i wasn’t gonna—”

she laughed. it didn’t look staged or fake. but how dare she? like jude wasn’t standing three feet away.

for the rest of dinner she never addressed him once. if she needed salt she asked jobe, if she wanted another drink she asked his mother, if someone asked the whole table a question she answered everyone except him.

she wasn’t being rude. y/n was never rude. that almost made it worse.

but she was being indifferent. like he’d become another chair in the room.

and he didn’t like that.

his mother noticed first. after dinner she quietly nudged him while washing dishes. “you two alright?”

he frowned. “who?”

“you and y/n.”

“what?”

“she hardly spoke to you.”

“oh,” he shrugged, looking back at the dishes. “didn’t notice.”

his mother gave him a look that clearly said she knew he was lying. but she didn’t push.

the dinners kept happening every few weeks. every single one looked exactly the same.

y/n arrived, hugged his mother, teased his dad, spent an hour laughing with jobe, helped clear plates, thanked everyone, and went home.

jude existed somewhere in the background.

she never sought him out anymore. never accidentally wandered into the same room or asked about training. never remembered his matches.

never looked at him. not really.

and that hurt him more than he’d ever imagined it could.

it became embarrassing how often he caught himself searching for her.

walking downstairs expecting to hear her. coming home wondering if her shoes were by the door.

listening for her laugh before remembering she didn’t come anymore.

then little things started surfacing. tiny things he’d never appreciated.

his mother sighed one afternoon while baking. “i miss her.”

jude looked up. “y/n?”

“mhm.”

“why?”

his mother smiled softly. “she always helped without asking,” denise looked at him. “made tea, set the table.”

“kept me company.”

the house suddenly felt empty. and it was weird because there was definitely people there.

jobe noticed too. though he’d never admit it directly.

one evening jude found him sitting alone in the garden. football balanced between his feet.

“no y/n?”

jobe kicked the ball lazily. “no.”

“you two argue?”

“nope.”

“so?”

“i don’t know,” jobe frowned. “she just stopped coming around, i guess.”

one afternoon jude was cleaning out an old cupboard looking for a charger.

instead he found a tiny notebook. blue cover with dog eared corners.

he flipped it open absentmindedly. he didn’t know who it belonged to, but he laughed at the thought of it being jobe’s.

then he froze.

every page was covered in football fixtures. england matches, champions league nights, training schedules.

written in tiny handwriting with stickers and words highlighted in so many colors.

he recognized it instantly. this was something that belonged to y/n.

there were notes beside certain dates. those were surrounded by extra stickers.

“wish jude luck.”

“ask how recovery went.”

“don’t forget his birthday.”

a folded receipt slipped from between the pages.

he unfolded it and found a photograph. years old with folded corners and faded color.

jobe was making a stupid face, y/n laughing so hard her eyes were closed, and jude. standing beside them looking mildly annoyed because someone had insisted he join.

he couldn’t even remember the picture being taken, but y/n had kept it. all these years.

his chest tightened and his hands trembled slightly.

he carefully slid everything back exactly as he’d found it and didn’t mention it.

that night, he couldn’t sleep.

his friends’ voices echoed through his head.

“she’s obsessed.”

“she’s always around.”

“your shadow.”

then his own.

“it’s honestly annoying.”

he squeezed his eyes shut. he hadn’t just rejected a confession or simply said he wasn’t interested.

he’d mocked y/n’s presence. someone who’d spent years making his family feel warmer. someone who’d celebrated every goal he ever scored. someone who’d never once asked him for anything.

and she’d heard him. he was sure of it.

she’d heard every word.

the realization settled slowly and painfully. it wasn’t just that y/n had stopped following him around or that she’d grown out of him. she’d stopped feeling safe around him.

and he was realizing just now.

a few days later, jobe wandered into jude’s room without knocking.

“you did something.”

jude looked up from his phone, frowning. “what?”

“to y/n.”

his stomach dropped as he put his phone away. “why do you think that?”

“because she won’t come over.”

“so?”

“so she loved this house,” jobe’s voice was unusually serious. “she practically lived here. i ask her every week and she always says no.”

jude swallowed.

“what reason? ‘busy.’ and she’s obviously lying,” jobe looked directly at him. “i’ve known her since we were ten. i know when she’s lying. you did something.”

jude stared at the floor. “i don’t know.”

“liar.”

the words lingered long after jobe left.

jude admitted it to himself. he knew exactly what he’d done.

he just hadn’t realized how much damage one conversation could do. because it wasn’t only her discomfort towards him, but he’d taken his mothers and his brother’s person and pushed them as far from them as he could without meaning to.

it got worse when he started noticing her everywhere.

a café she’d recommended. a song she’d once played in the car. a mug she’d accidentally left behind that his mother refused to throw away.

he’d hear someone laugh in public, turn his head, and feel disappointed when it wasn’t her.

he’d score during a match and look toward the family section without thinking. as if expecting to find one familiar face beaming brighter than the rest.

she wasn’t there. of course she wasn’t.

and every time something inside him sank a little further. so deep it became impossible to deny.

he hadn’t been annoyed by y/n, he’d been annoyed that everyone else noticed her feelings before he did. embarrassed by the teasing. too immature to separate her quiet affection from his friends’ jokes.

so he’d taken his frustration out on the easiest target. the person who deserved it least. the one with the sweetest smile.

and now the silence she’d left behind echoed louder than she’d ever spoken.

by the end of the second month, jude realized something that made him sit awake until nearly dawn.

the house hadn’t become quieter because y/n talked a lot; it had become quieter because she’d filled every room without trying. he just hadn’t understood it until she stopped.

and perhaps the cruelest part of all was that the only reason he finally understood how much she mattered was because he was living in the emptiness she’d left behind.

by the third month, guilt had stopped feeling sharp, but it was heavier. the kind that followed jude everywhere.

it waited beside him in the gym, sat beside him on team buses, appeared in hotel rooms when the television was on but he wasn’t watching.

it even found him during matches. after goals. after victories. during celebrations where everyone else was smiling.

he’d catch himself looking toward the stands.

it was ridiculous. she’d hardly ever come to his matches. she preferred watching from home because she claimed, very seriously, that she got less nervous through a screen.

still he looked. every time. and every time he was met by the same disappointment.

and he had no one other than himself to blame.

“you’ve been weird,” trent dropped onto the bench beside him after training.

jude didn’t bother looking up. “i’ve always been weird.”

“no. you’ve been…” he searched for the word. “…quiet.”

“i’m tired.”

“no, you’re something else.”

jude laughed once, but it lacked its usual warmth. “you sound like my therapist.”

“i’m serious,” trent nudged his shoulder. “did something happen?”

jude almost answered. almost said it aloud.

i broke someone’s heart without even realizing she’d handed it to me.

but he chose to shrug his shoulders. “nah.”

one rainy tuesday, he came home unexpectedly because training had been cancelled.

the house was empty except for his mother, who was sitting at the dining table with a cardboard box.

he walked to where she was and saw what the box had inside. old photographs, birthday cards, school drawings.

jude sat beside her. “what’re you doing?”

“sorting,” she smiled. “i’ve been meaning to for years.”

he reached into the box absentmindedly and pulled out a picture of jobe missing two front teeth. y/n beside him with scraped knees.

himself in the background looking deeply offended because someone had forced him into the frame like always.

his mother laughed. “you remember that?”

“no.”

“you complained for ten minutes. ‘why do i have to be in every picture?’,” she imitated his younger voice perfectly.

jude smiled despite himself.

then another picture. y/n sitting on the kitchen counter, decorating cupcakes. flour all over her nose and denise beside her laughing.

another.

christmas. y/n wearing the paper crown from a cracker while his dad pointed the camera at everyone.

another.

jobe’s birthday. y/n holding the cake looking grumpy because she insisted she’d drop it if she didn’t concentrate.

another.

summer barbecue. y/n asleep on the garden swing with a book resting on her chest.

his mother noticed where his eyes lingered. “she really grew up here.”

jude swallowed. “yeah.”

denise looked back into the box. “i miss having her around.”

he stared at the photograph. “so do i.”

the words came quietly because he hadn’t meant to say them aloud.

his mother looked at him and asked gently. “did something happen?”

the house was quiet for a minute. long enough for rain to become the loudest thing in the room.

“i think…” his voice cracked unexpectedly. “…i think i hurt her.”

his mother didn’t interrupt. she waited the way mothers somehow always knew when silence was more important than questions.

jude rubbed both hands over his face. “my friends kept… making jokes.”

“what jokes?”

he laughed bitterly. “that she followed me everywhere. that she had a crush on me.”

his mother raised one eyebrow. “she did.”

“i know. i know that now,” he shook his head before correcting himself. “i knew then. i just…” he sighed. “i got embarrassed. and one day they brought it up again,” his stomach twisted. “i called her annoying.”

his mother went completely still.

“i said i couldn’t go anywhere without her and that she was attached to my side. that i wanted one visit where she wasn’t around.”

his voice became quieter with every sentence. “i didn’t know she was behind me.”

the rain outside filled the silence as his mother looked down at the photographs scattered across the table.

“oh, jude.”

heartbroken. for both of them. because she knew who her son was, but she also knew who y/n was. sweet and patient y/n.

“she heard all of it?”

he nodded. “every word.”

his mother closed the photo album. “i wondered.”

“you wondered?”

“i couldn’t understand why she suddenly looked uncomfortable here,” she looked toward the window. “i thought maybe she’d simply outgrown us.”

jude felt sick. “no.”

his mother reached over and squeezed his hand. “you owe that girl an apology.”

“i know.”

“no,” she looked him directly in the eye. “you owe her one without expecting forgiveness.”

that’s what was jude was the most scared about. that maybe she wouldn’t forgive him because she really didn’t have to.

he wanted her to anyway.

he spent the next week trying.

twice he drove toward her house. twice he turned around.

every version of the conversation sounded selfish.

i’m sorry because i miss you.

i’m sorry because i realized i like you.

the apology couldn’t be about him. it had to be about what he’d done.

fate, however, had different plans.

it happened at jobe’s match, a local charity event. jude had agreed to come support his brother and he had arrived late.

he stopped abruptly when he saw y/n.

she was standing beside the refreshments table helping hand out drinks to children while laughing at something a little girl had said.

she looked exactly the same and completely different.

she hadn’t noticed him yet. she was smiling with that same charisma she had always had. the one he loved so much but realized too late.

his feet moved before he’d fully decided to.

“y/n.”

she turned and smile slipped gradually. like she’d folded it away.

“oh, hi.”

there it was again. that polite voice. the one she’d started using after that afternoon. the one that wasn’t rude but lacked sweetness.

he hated it.

“can we talk?”

she hesitated and looked toward the children waiting for juice. “i’m helping.”

“i’ll wait.”

she blinked as if she’d expected him to give up. but twenty minutes later she walked over to him.

“what did you need?”

jude suddenly forgot every sentence he’d rehearsed.

“i’m sorry.”

she looked at him. though there was no trace of surprise on her face, she did look as if that was the last thing she’d expected him to say.

“i’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for weeks—months. and every version sounded wrong,” he took a shaky breath.

“you heard what i said, and there isn’t a version of it that isn’t awful.”

y/n stared at the grass between them, unable to look at him just yet.

“i was embarrassed. i let people teasing me become more important than…” he looked at her. “…than your feelings. i spoke about you like you were something i had to put up with when really…” his laugh broke halfway through. “you were just… being kind to me.”

y/n stayed quiet.

“i made you feel unwelcome in a place that felt like home. i took something safe away from you.”

he closed his eyes for a second as he felt his chest tighten. “i’m so, so sorry.”

y/n finally looked up and her eyes were glassy.

“i kept wondering what i’d done.”

his heart stopped. she sounded small. so small. and it was him who had done that.

“i thought maybe i’d been too loud,” she laughed softly through her tears. “or talked too much,” she paused to regain her breath. “so i tried talking less. i thought maybe i bothered your parents. so i started leaving earlier,” her voice trembled. “and then i heard you.”

“i realized…” she shrugged. “…it was just me.”

jude closed his eyes. every word landed like another weight on his chest.

“it was never just you. it was me. i was immature and i was cruel and i hurt someone who had never done anything except care about me.”

she wiped quickly beneath one eye. “i stopped coming because i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable anymore.”

“i know,” his voice sounded barely above a whisper. “and i hate that that’s what you walked away believing.”

she studied him for a long moment. “so what changed?”

the question was fair. of course it was.

“what made you apologize now?”

he smiled sadly. “you disappeared.”

she frowned slightly.

“i don’t mean physically, i mean you disappeared from…” he gestured helplessly. “…everything. the house, my family… my life.”

“my mum misses you, jobe misses you.” he swallowed. “and…” he laughed once. “so do i.”

she didn’t answer. she had no idea what to say. she was hearing things she’d convinced herself would never hear because it wasn’t jude who she had blamed.

“i never found you annoying. i found it embarrassing that everyone noticed you because they noticed before i did.”

y/n frowned. “noticed what?”

he held her gaze. “i stopped looking for reasons you’d always be around and started hoping you would be. so when you left…” he smiled through wet eyes. “it felt like someone had taken all the light out of my childhood home.”

y/n stared at him. searching his face and making sure this wasn’t guilt speaking. making sure this wasn’t pity and he just didn’t want to make her feel more pathetic than she already was.

“you really hurt me.”

“i know.”

“i cried all the way home that day.”

his eyes closed.

“i thought i’d embarrassed myself.”

“you didn’t.”

“i thought…” her voice cracked. “…if the boy i’d liked for years couldn’t stand being around me then maybe i was just…”

she couldn’t finish what she had tried to say. it was too much and there were too many mosquitoes and she didn’t like crying in public.

jude stepped forward instinctively but then stopped himself.

“i’m not going to ask you to forgive me, okay? you don’t owe me that. i’m not even going to ask if you still feel the same. because after what i did, i haven’t earned the right to know.”

y/n looked at him for what felt like forever.

and then very quietly said. “i don’t think those feelings ever went away. i just buried them.”

she smiled softly. but jude felt satisfied when noticed this time it was real.

“for what it’s worth, you were never actually annoying either.”

he laughed. his shoulders finally dropping for what felt like the first time in months. “i can work with that.”

she shook her head, smiling despite herself.

“i didn’t say you were forgiven,” she hesitated. “but i think i’d like to come by your house again.”

jude’s smile softened. “i think mum might actually cry.”

y/n laughed. “i missed her.”

“i know.”

“and…” she glanced at him. shrugging her shoulders. “…i missed you too.”

he stared at her, almost afraid to believe he’d heard correctly.

“so…” he asked carefully. “can i walk you back to the pitch?”

she pretended to think about it. “hm. i suppose. but only because jobe’s probably wondering where i’ve gone.”

he smiled. “and because you don’t want him thinking i’m annoying?”

she groaned, laughing as she lightly nudged his arm. “oh, don’t ruin the moment.”

he caught himself smiling wider than he had in months.

three months later, the bellingham house sounded like itself again.

it happened so gradually that no one could pinpoint exactly when y/n had started letting herself stay until midnight again. or when she stopped asking, “is it alright if i come over?” and simply walked through the front door with the familiar “hello?” like she’d done since she was ten.

denise had cried one evening while y/n was helping wash dishes.

she wrapped her arms around her and whispered. “i’ve missed having you here.”

y/n had hugged her back just as tightly. “i’ve missed being here.”

neither of them mentioned why she’d ever stopped coming. some wounds didn’t need reopening once they’d finally begun to heal.

jobe, however…

jobe noticed everything.

he noticed that jude somehow always knew when y/n was arriving, that y/n unconsciously saved the seat beside her, that whenever jude came home from training, the first person he looked for wasn’t his parents anymore.

it was her.

one evening they were all watching a film, or at least attempting to.

jobe was invested. his father had fallen asleep twenty minutes earlier and his mother was pretending not to.

y/n sat tucked into one corner of the sofa, jude on the other.

that was how it started.

then halfway through the film, jobe reached for the popcorn and paused.

“hang on,” his eyes narrowed. “when did this happen?”

y/n blinked with a small frown. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“you two.”

both of them looked down simultaneously.

without either of them consciously remembering it, they’d ended up shoulder to shoulder. y/n’s legs tucked beneath her and jude’s arm resting lazily behind her on the sofa. their hands intertwined.

y/n immediately let go, but jude didn’t.

he simply looked at his brother. “what?”

jobe stared shaking his head unbelievably. “no. what? when?”

jude shrugged. “a while ago.”

“a while?”

“three months?”

“three months?!”

his voice cracked and his parents woke up.

denise yawned. “what happened?”

jobe pointed dramatically. “they’ve been dating for three months.”

“yes, jobe, i know.”

jobe whipped around. “you knew?!”

“i’ve known since the second week.”

his father stretched casually. “i thought everyone knew.”

jobe looked personally betrayed. “i didn’t know.”

dating jude turned out to be nothing like she’d imagined when she was younger. at ten she’d thought it’d be grand gestures like flowers, fireworks and movie-like moments.

instead it was ordinary. wonderfully ordinary.

it was jude waiting outside her university lecture with two coffees because he’d remembered she’d had an early class. it was y/n bringing dinner to his apartment after late training because she’d noticed he’d forgotten to eat properly.

it was grocery shopping together and somehow spending forty minutes arguing over pasta sauce. it was falling asleep halfway through documentaries neither of them had actually wanted to watch.

it was peace.

no guessing. no pretending she didn’t instinctively drift toward him or that he didn’t instinctively reach for her.

one rainy afternoon she wandered into the bellingham kitchen where denise was.

eventually she spoke. “you know…”

y/n looked over.

“i used to think you’d marry one of my boys.”

she nearly dropped the knife. “excuse me?”

she laughed. “not because you had a crush. i didn’t even know about that until much later.”

y/n hid her face. “oh my god.”

“i just couldn’t imagine you belonging anywhere else.”

that evening jude found y/n sitting on the back garden swing.

the same one she’d fallen asleep on years earlier.

rain had finally stopped and everything smelled like wet grass.

he walked over quietly. “you disappeared.”

she looked up. “i wanted five minutes.”

“without me?”

she smiled teasingly. “i know. terrible.”

he sat beside her and y/n rested her head against his shoulder.

“you know…”

“what?”

“i still catch myself wondering if i’m bothering you.”

his entire body softened. “you really believe that?”

“sometimes,” she paused. “it doesn’t last long but…” she shrugged. “that day stuck with me.”

jude nodded once. “i know, baby.” he reached for her hand. “i don’t expect it to disappear.”

“it shouldn’t,” she looked at him. “you hurt me.”

“i did.”

“and some days i remember it.”

he brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “when you do, you tell me. i don’t care if it’s ten years from now.” he kissed the back of her hand. “if i have to apologize for that day for the rest of my life i’ll do it.”

she laughed through watery eyes. “you’d get sick of saying sorry.”

“i don’t think so.” he leaned closer.

a breeze stirred the trees around them.

somewhere inside the house jobe shouted,

“mum, where’s the garlic bread?”

his mother shouted back, “ask y/n.”

y/n laughed instinctively. she looked toward the kitchen windows glowing warm against the evening sky and then she answered just as loudly.

“top oven!”

jobe yelled back. “thank you!”

jude smiled.

“what?” she looked at him.

“it feels like home again.” he kissed her forehead and then he intertwined their fingers. “you’ve always been home.”

this time, when she smiled there was no hesitation behind it. no fear that she’d overstayed her welcome. no instinct to make herself smaller.

because the girl who had once quietly slipped out the back door, convinced her presence was a burden, was gone.

and in her place was someone who knew, with complete certainty, that she was loved. not because she stayed out of the way but because she had always, without realizing it, become part of the family long before she ever became jude’s girlfriend.

the porch light flickered on as the sun disappeared.

inside, someone laughed. jobe yelled something incomprehensible about burnt garlic bread.

his father blamed the oven. his mother blamed jobe.

y/n squeezed jude’s hand. “c’mon. they’re probably setting the kitchen on fire.”

he stood with a grin. “probably.”

she started toward the house and he caught her hand before she could get very far.

y/n turned. “what?”

jude smiled in that quiet, unmistakably fond way that was reserved only for her now. “i’m really glad you came back.”

y/n’s expression softened. “i know.”

she stepped back toward him, rose onto her toes, and kissed him gently. “when you apologized,” she murmured against his lips, “i wasn’t sure if we could ever get back to what we had.”

he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “we didn’t.”

she frowned slightly.

“we got something better.”

she believed him completely.

together, they walked back into the warm, noisy house. where someone was already shouting their names, where dinner was almost certainly burning, and where neither of them would ever again have to wonder whether they belonged.

i keep getting asks about it help it is nooot true 😭 the same story keeps getting viral every few months

breaks my heart because it will def follow him forever, but do NOT take it seriously omg 😭

it makes its rounds every few months and people genuinely take it seriously like help like at this point olisiala allegations need to stop 😭😭😭

not to mention that it was about flicks germany and they were talking/going for a freshly 18/20 musiala. people need to get a grip!!

it is completely unserious and NOT true