stella lamarie

i write for footballers preferably french ones however i will take requests for pretty much anyone as long as i know of them.

i take requests, however upon making requests please name the player, their club and a short summary of what you would like to be written.

male footballer x female reader

!!reader will have no physical description unless stated/requested otherwise!!

masterlist

masterlist

angst

jamal musiala x female reader

plot summary: in which jamal is desperate for your forgiveness.

part one

just after midnight your phone vibrated on the bedside table of your parents spare room. unknown account. you opened the dm absentmindedly, but you quickly stopped breathing your hands shaking as you looked down at the three photos infiltrating your phone.

photo one showed jamal kissing a girl against his kitchen counter as she pushed her pelvis against his.

photo two contained a different girl this time. this girl was straddling his lap, her hands around his neck and his hands resting on her ass as his tongue was visibly deep in her mouth.

photo three consisted of another girl, his hands resting on her waist while she smiled into the kiss.

your heart pounded against your chest and your pulse thumped in your ears, heat flooding your body as you read the messages attached.

‘guess he didn’t feel like waiting for you.’

‘he said he’s single.’

the tears came instantly, not because he’d kissed someone else, because he’d kissed three without a second thought, because you’d spent months convincing yourself there was something between you and apparently the idea of you hadn’t even crossed his mind.

the next morning your phone lit up with the familiar message from jamal.

‘good morning’

ignored.

‘hope you’re okay.’

ignored.

by the evening you could tell he was frustrated.

‘have i done something?’

but you ignored that message aswell.

tge messages continued through the week.

‘please answer me’

‘i’m worried’

‘can you just tell me you’re safe’

the messages came with an abundance of missed calls until it all stopped. no texts, no calls, nothing, just silence. you assumed he’d finally realised you weren’t worth chasing and he assumed you’d decided you never wanted to see him again.

jamal’s rehab quickly fell apart and everyone noticed.

“you look exhausted.” they would say.

“i am.” he would reply.

“are you sleeping?”

“no.”

“eating?”

“not really.”

getting back to football wasn’t what occupied his thoughts anymore, instead you were, every second.

nearly two weeks later, one of your mutual friends mentioned seeing the photos and jamal felt sick.

“you saw them?”

“well, they’re everywhere.”

he stared at the floor, finally understanding.

“oh god” he whispered repeatedly under his breath in a panic.

the drive to your hometown was the longest of his life, he rehearsed a hundred apologies yet none sounded nearly good enough. by the time he reached your home his anxiety was through the roof, hands shaking as he knocked on the door, your mum opening it.

“she’s upstairs.” she told him, then quietly added, “she hasn’t smiled since she got home.” and at that jamal’s heart broke.

you ignored the knocking on your bedroom door, your face buried in your probably permanently tear stained pillow.

“please.” his voice cracked. “i know you’re in there.”

you did not reply.

“i deserve you slamming the door in my face.” he continued as silence followed. “but i can’t let you hate me without knowing why.”

at this you opened the door, only a few inches, but it was enough for his face to fall immediately at the sight of you. you looked like you’d cried yourself empty.

“you kissed them.”

jamal closed his eyes.

“…yeah.”

“you kissed all of them.”

“…yeah.”

“you don’t get to tell me they meant nothing.” you ranted on.

“i won’t.”

“you chose to kiss them.” your voice cracked.

“i did.”

“so why are you here?” you cried, exasperated.

he looked at you with red-rimmed eyes, from tiredness or tears, you didn’t care to ask.

“because every single kiss was me trying to convince myself to stop loving you.” he confessed.

you laughed bitterly in disbelief.

“great strategy.”

“it was the worst decision i’ve ever made.”

“you hurt me.”

“i know.”

“i thought - ” his voice broke completely. “i thought you only ever saw me as your friend.”

“you called me your bestfriend.”

“so did you.”

“i know.” you spoke carefully

“i kept waiting for you to tell me there was something more.”

“so did i.” you admitted.

“i got tired of hoping.”

“so instead you kissed three different girls?” you pointed out.

he hung his head, shame filling his soul.

“i wanted to prove i could move on.”

“could you?” you asked.

“no.” his answer came instantly. “i kissed the first girl and all i could think about was you.”

“and the second?”

“i remembered how you kissed my forehead after physio when i was frustrated.”

“the third…”

“i realised i was trying to replace someone who couldn’t be replaced.” his voice wavered. “so i stopped, i sent everyone home and sat in that house surrounded by every little reminder of you and realised i’d just destroyed the one chance i ever might have had.”

you stared at him through blurred vision.

“i loved you.” the words slipped out. “i still do.”

jamal’s face crumpled.

“i love you too.”

“but i don’t know how to forget those pictures.” you admitted.

“you shouldn’t. i don’t deserve for you to.” he wiped his eyes. “i just needed you to know i wasn’t choosing them over you. i was choosing to run away from loving you because i thought you didn’t love me back.”

for a long time, neither of you spoke, when finally you whispered,

“i’m not ready to forgive you.”

“i know.” he nodded.

“but…” you stepped a little closer. “if this is ever going to work, you don’t get to make decisions for the both of us again.”

he didn’t hesitate.

“i won’t.”

“and if you’re scared” you continued as he looked at you, “you tell me.”

“i will” he whispered and for the first time in weeks, the silence between you wasn’t built on assumptions but instead honesty.

masterlist

angst

jamal musiala x female reader

plot summary: in which you have remained by jamals side during his recovery but one weekend away from eachother threatens to tear apart the relationship built in those months together.

part two

there was a running joke amongst everyone close to jamal musiala in that if they couldn’t find him, they only had to find you, because ever since his injury you were practically attached at the hip. you’d shown up at his home the day after he was discharged from hospital with two bags of shopping, his favourite takeaway, and no intention of taking no for an answer.

“i’m not helpless.” he grumbled from the sofa as he watched you unpack his groceries.

“i know.”

“you really don’t have to do all this.”

“i know.”

“i can look after myself,” he continued as you paused, looking over at him, holding a carton of milk.

“this expired six days ago.”

“… that’s not the point.” he sighed, watching you smile to yourself.

“no, the point is that you’ll accidentally give yourself food poisoning if i leave you alone.” you mused and despite his protests, he never stopped you from coming back which you always did.

recovery was exhausting, both you and jamal knew it would be, not just physically but mentally aswell. some mornings he’d wake up convinced he’d never be the same player again. those were the days in which he’d barely speak and instead choose to stare out of his living room window whilst you quietly made him breakfast in the kitchen.

you never pushed him to talk, but simply existed beside him and eventually he’d start talking anyway.

“i miss training.” he confessed.

“i know you do.”

“i miss feeling useful.”

you turned to face him, your hand now resting on his thigh for balance.

“you are useful.”

he scoffed.

“i can’t even carry my own shopping.”

“so? you think that’s why people love you?” the words left your mouth before you could stop them and you quickly looked away, removing your hand and sitting back awkwardly. you didn’t take the word back and he didn’t miss it yet neither of you mentioned it.

soon enough, the weeks started to blur together, physio appointments, movie nights and alternating between your respective favourite take aways. sometimes jamal would fall asleep halfway through a film, his head resting against your shoulder, as you remained still. occasionally you’d doze off too and he’d wake up first, smiling because somehow your hand had found his without either of you noticing.

everyone assumed the pair of you were a couple, his teammates, your friends, even strangers.

“you two are so cute together,” an elderly waitress smiled one time after bringing over your food causing jamal to choke on his drink.

“oh we’re not - ”

“we’re just friends,” you finished casually not realising the effect the comment had on jamal.

the waitress gave you both a knowing smile before walking away as jamal laughed awkwardly regathering himself.

“people always assume.”

“yeah.” you agreed, neither of you noticing the disappointment the other held.

almost three months into his recovery, your mum called, complaining how you hadn’t visited home in a while, so you promised to spend the upcoming weekend there.

“i’ll survive,” jamal assured as you packed your overnight bag.

“you’ll have to.”

“i’ll probably burn my kitchen down.” he joked.

“i’ve left meals labelled in the fridge for you.”

“you think of everything.” he states admirably causing you to smile shyly.

“i’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”

he nodded.

“i’ll miss you.” he murmered into your hair as he pulled you into a long hug, neither of you reacting to the normal nature of the interaction.

truth be told the house felt unbearably quiet after you left as jamal wandered from room to room taking note of any object that reminded him of you. the blanket you had dedicated to snuggling during films on the sofa, one of your hair ties on the kitchen counter and your favourite mug drying by the sink, when suddenly his phone buzzed, a few friends inviting themselves other. usually he would’ve declined but as he stared at your latest message he started to second guess everything, maybe he had imagined everything and you only really saw him as the injured friend you’d taken pity on.

“get over her.” he scolded himself, throwing his phone across the sofa.

the gathering started small with music and a few drinks but as the night went on more and more people arrived. a few girls he’d never met arrived with some of his friends with one of them recognising jamal immediately.

“yknow, I’ve always thought you were cute.” she practically purred in his ear.

jamal smiled politely as another one of the girls wrapped an arm around him.

“you’ve been hiding from everyone, cmon.”

someone handed him another drink but he wasn’t drunk, not even close, instead just numb. everywhere he looked he was reminded of you. the candle you always lit, your jacket hung in the hallway, your favourite snacks still sitting in the cupboard. he couldn’t stop thinking about you, so he did something unbelievably stupid that he knew he would grow to regret, when the first girl kissed him, instead of pushing away like he normally would, this time, he kissed back. not because he wanted her but because he wanted to stop wanting you. in the background his friends cheered and someone laughed as another girl walked over.

“my turn?” she asked and jamal forced a smile as their lips locked and tongues tangled. this kiss was longer than the previous, more messy, as the girl climbed onto his lap, running her hands through his curls, something he only ever allowed you to do. jamal eventually pulled away lips puffy yet no spark, butterflies or warmth, the only thing he felt was guilt.

hours later, a new girl was nearby leading to another kiss as she gripped onto him like he was her property. someone had pulled out their phone and soon enough their were pictures, videos and laughter of jamal’s night and he hated every second but he kept going because if he stopped now then he’d have to admit none of it was working.

Thanks !!! Love your work btw.

jealous friends

masterlist

smut/angst

michael olise x female reader

trigger warning: smut

note: thank you for the request,sorry this took me so long to write. also this is no hate to anyone called sophie it was just the first name that came to mind.

yours and michael's relationship had always been a mystery to everyone around you.

to outsiders, there was no logical explanation for the way the two of you acted. you'd show up at each other's homes unannounced, spend entire days together, steal lazy kisses whenever you felt like it, and disappear behind closed doors often enough that people stopped asking questions. the line between friendship and something more had long since blurred.

everyone assumed you were together.

you always laughed and corrected them.

"we're just friends."

it was the same answer every time, despite the lingering touches, the comfortable intimacy, and the fact that neither of you ever seemed interested in defining whatever this was. it worked for the two of you, even if nobody else could understand.

so when he slowly started pulling away, stopped texting, showing up, kissing you, and the random visits to your apartment became quick texts saying he couldn’t make it, you didn’t know what to do. at first you told yourself he was just busy, football was demanding you understood that, you always had, so you allowed yourself to make excuses for him until you started seeing the reason. her. you’d noticed that she’d started hanging around more through sponsorship events and mutual friends. she was beautiful, funny, outgoing and somehow always ended the night by michael’s side.

you tried not to think anything of it, michael was allowed other female friends, until he started choosing her over you.

“you’re coming tonight, right?” you’d asked one afternoon.

michael barely looked up from his phone.

“hm?”

“the team dinner.”

“oh.” he murmered as his thumbs continued to move across the screen. “i forgot.”

“you forgot?”

“i already said i’d go with sophie.” he said casually, the words hitting you harder than they should’ve.

“oh.”

“i’ll see you there though.”

“yeah.” you smiled forcefully, but you knew you wouldn’t.

another time, a few weeks later, you’d invited him over, and instead of coming over straightaway he’d left you on read for three hours. eventually your phone buzzed.

sorry. ended up grabbing dinner with sophie after the event. another time?

you stared at the message for far longer than necessary before responding.

of course. have fun!

you didn’t mention the homemade dinner currently going cold on your kitchen table and the new black lace lingerie set you’d bought now itching at your skin.

it quickly became routine, you’d look for michael and he’d be with sophie. someone would ask where michael was and the answer was always the same.

“oh, he’s with sophie.”

even the team noticed.

“you alright?” one of the players, jamal musiala, asked you quietly one day after training.

“fine.”

“you’ve barely spoken.”

“i’ve spoken.”

“not to michael.”

you laughed humourlessly.

“he seems busy.”

jamal sighed.

“he doesn’t realise.”

“realise what?”

“that he’s hurting you.”

you turned away before he could see your eyes sting.

“it’s fine.”

“no it’s not.”

jamal was right, michael didn’t notice, not really, not like he should’ve. he noticed you were quieter, that you left earlier than usual, that you smiled less but he just assumed you were tired, he never connected it to himself, never bothered to ask.

it had been three weeks. three whole weeks with no late-night visits, no kisses, no lazy sundays, no holding each other naked and vulnerable talking lowly until the early hours of the morning. the space where michael had always existed in your life felt unbearably empty. you hated how much you missed him but what you hated even more is how he didn’t seem to miss you.

the breaking point came after one of michael’s matches. usually, you’d wait outside the dressing room, he’d walk out exhausted before immediately wrapping you in a hug. tonight, like routine, you waited, the dressing room door opened as players poured out, whilst families greeted them and teammates laughed. michael finally appeared and you smiled instinctively as his eyes found yours for just a second, then –

“sophie!”

he walked straight past you. you watched him pull her into a hug before the two of them disappeared down the corridor together, laughing about something she’d said. he hadn’t even stopped, hadn’t even said hello. your smile was wiped off your face as. you turned around before anyone had the chance to see the tears threatening to fall.

jamal found michael twenty minutes later.

“where’s she gone?”

michael frowned.

“who?”

jamal just sent him an unimpressed look.

“…really?”

“what?”

“you walked straight past her.”

Michael blinked.

“i - ”

“you didn’t even stop.”

“i thought - ” he stammered

“you thought she’d still be waiting after you ignored her for the last month?”

michael’s stomach dropped.

“what are you talking about?”

jamal looked genuinely shocked.

“you seriously haven’t noticed?”

“noticed what?”

“the fact that she’s been miserable?”

michael’s expression slowly changed.

“what?”

“you’ve cancelled on her. you’ve stopped calling. you’ve stopped trying to see her. you’ve replaced her with sophie.”

Each sentence landed like a punch to michael’s gut, he truly hadn’t meant for this to happen.

“i haven’t replaced - ”

“then why does everyone else think you have?” jamal silenced.

michael’s mind rapidly started replaying the last few weeks all up until tonight, to the way you’d smiled before it fell.

“where did she go?”

you were already halfway home when the tears came. not dramatic sobbing, just quiet tears that you couldn’t seem to stop. maybe everyone had been wrong, maybe you and michael had never been anything special, because if you truly mattered would replacing you really had been that easy?

your phone rang. it was michael. you let it ring again and again continuing to ignore it as the messages rolled through.

where are you?

please answer.

i’m outside your apartment.

your heart clenched as the knocking started, at first soft then more desperate, you weren’t ready to face him. eventually you opened the door to michael who looked awful his jacket half-zipped, eyes filled with panic and the second he saw your face he knew.

“you’ve been crying.”

you shrugged

“i’ll be okay.”

“no.” his voice cracked “no you won’t”

neither of you spoke, then quietly he asked,

“why didn’t you tell me?”

you laughed sadly.

“when?”

“what do you mean?”

“the first time you cancelled? the fifth? the night you forgot our plans because you’d already made different ones with sophie?”

his face fell further with every word.

“you looked happier with her.” you stated simply.

“i wasn’t.” he denied.

“you chose her.”

“i didn’t.”

“you did.” you raised your voice as it cracked. “every single time, michael.”

the silence that followed afterwards was unbearable so you continued.

“i waited.” you swallowed hard. “i kept thinking you’d realise. i kept making excuses for you. i told everyone you were just busy. i told myself not to be jealous because we weren’t together.” you released a shaky breath.

“but every time you walked past me to go to her…”

your vision was blurred and vulnerable now, tears filling your eyes and threatening to fall.

“… it felt like i was losing my best friend.”

michael closed his eyes, exasperated.

“oh god.”

“i would’ve understood if you liked her.”

“i don’t.”

“i would’ve stepped away.”

“i don’t!” he yelled, his voice now echoing through the apartment, the desperation in it making you flinch. “i don’t like her.”

“you spent every day with her.”

“i thought…” he gathered himself.

“i thought you were pulling away from me.” he admitted quietly.

you stared at him.

“what?”

“you stopped texting first.”

“because you stopped answering.”

“i thought you were bored of me.”

“i thought you were replacing me.”

he laughed bitterly at himself, internally condemning his idiocy.

“i kept spending time with sophie because it was easier than asking you if something was wrong.”

you both stood there in stunned silence, two idiots hurting each other for completely different reasons. michael took a cautious step forward.

“i never slept with her. i never even kissed her. to be honest i haven’t been with anyone but you since this started.” he gestured to the space between the two of you as you looked up.

“the only person i’ve wanted to kiss and be with…” he continued, taking another step towards you “… is you.”

your breathing hitched as michael reached a hand out to caress your face.

“i missed you. so much.” he muttered, never breaking eye contact. “i missed your apartment, our hangouts, you stealing my hoodies and making fun of my interviews.” you let out a watery laugh as he continued, “i missed you kissing me hello and goodbye, i missed holding you through the night, i missed you.”

another tear slipped down your cheek as you spoke.

“i thought…”

your voice barely worked.

“i thought you’d stopped wanting me.”

michael’s face crumpled as he gently cupped your face with both hands, tilting your head upwards to look at him.

“i never stopped, i’m sorry that i put you through this, and i’m sorry that i didn’t realise i was hurting you sooner.”

you searched his face for any word of a lie.

“you really don’t like sophie?” you asked as he almost looked offended.

“i barely know sophie.”

that made you laugh through your tears.

“you’ve spent a month with her.”

“i know. i was stupid.”

you leaned into his touch.

“the stupidest.”

“so, we’re done pretending this is friendly?” he asked.

you smiled for the first time in weeks.

“i think we should’ve stopped pretending a long time ago.”

michael took this as a signal, refusing to wait another second as he kissed you hurriedly, the force of the kiss and his grip on your waist sending shivers down your spine as you moaned against his mouth pushing him backwards onto the bed.

your hands found the hem of his shirt pushing it up and resting on his abs whilst your legs swung over him resting your knees on either side of his hips as you rocked slightly over his clothed and growing bulge. michael breathed your name repeatedly like a prayer as his hands fumbled your bra clasp, his eyes glossing over at the sight of your bare chest. he reached a hand out, fingers swiping over your nipple as he took your other breast in his mouth causing you to throw your head back in pleasure gasping his name.

taking this moment of vulnerability as an opportunity, michael flipped you over so that he was now on top, littering open mouth kisses all over your neck whilst sliding your panties to the side and inserting two fingers without warning making you bite down on his shoulder as he moaned loudly from the contact, his breath hot against your stomach.

“your so wet for me,” michael muttered, looking up at you from the end of the bed as he held your hips down with his arm.

just as you were about to reply his mouth attached to your clit, sucking immediately, causing you to yell out his name, back arched, which in return led to him moaning against your folds, fingers still pumping. the vibrations from his moans were your final straw as your orgasm crashed down on you whilst you came over michael’s hand and face.

he pulled back from between your legs, removing his fingers and sucking off your juices as they dripped down his arm. he then leaned over you, connecting your lips in a slow kiss allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue as he hovered over you, lining up his cock with your entrance.

“is this okay?” michael asked, moving a hair from your forehead.

“mhm.” you hummed.

“words baby, i need words.”

“please michael, please fuck me.”

at the confirmation, michael slid into you, the cum from your previous orgasm still lingering and now shining on his cock.

“fuck i missed this baby, your so tight.” he gasped as your eyes rolled back and your lips parted, your mind blank, only focusing on the man above you.

the room was filled with the sound of your pornographic moans and the slapping of his balls against your skin as he thrust into you deeply and desperately.

“michael i’m so close” you cried

“me too baby, me too, its okay, i’ve got you” he grunts, his motions getting sloppier.

unconsciously you clenched around him signalling your orgasm. not wanting to leave you disappointed michael held on, fucking you through your orgasm before pulling out and releasing over your stomach as he collapsed on the bed next to you.

after a few minutes of heavy breathing, michael stood up and went to the bathroom, returning with a hot wet cloth, wiping up the stickiness from your stomach and between your legs, before pulling you into his chest and kissing you all over your face as you giggled.

“i’ll never pull away from you again.” he promised, his chin resting on top of your head, his arms wrapped around your body like a cocoon, your legs intertwined and all you could do was smile into his chest.

launching

social media au - soft and hard launching

aurelien tchouameni x female reader

note: thank you for your request, i’m thinking of making this into a series where it’s basically the same format just w different players, lmk if anyone would like this.

liked by judebellingham, camavinga and 201k others

aurelientchm life lately 🙌🏾

view comments…

user1: excuse me is anyone gonna mention slide 4…

user5: that’s all anyone’s talking about

camavinga: life looks like it’s treating you extra good 😏😏😏

aurelientchm: u already know it 🙏🏾🙏🏾

user3: slide 4???

user68: nooooo my mans is taken

user32: clearly not ur mans then

judebellingham: my boyyyy ❤️❤️

aurelientchm: ❤️🙌🏾

user92: no distractions please we need to win world cup

user71: what’s happening in fourth slide?

user83: literally i’m so jealousss

liked by aurelientchm, meretmanon and 90k others

yn.ln living la vida loca 🌴🩷

view comments…

meretmanon: u guys are so cute i love you!!!

yn.ln: no WE love YOU

user5: girl who is we?

user4: who is this man.

user8: aurelien tchouameni in her likes lollll

user93: don’t even blame him, this girl is bad, shame she’s got a boyfriend tho

user76: beautiful girl and oh wait there’s a man???

user19: another person soft launching, i feel so lonely

ybsf2: i wonder whose taking these photos 🥴😏

yn.ln: shhhh 😝😝

user73: wait girl do u have a mans??

yn.ln: no comment 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

user73: i love this for u

liked by yn.ln, camavinga and 1.3m others

aurelientchm ♾️

view comments…

yn.ln: i love you 🫶

aurelientchm: my girl, i love you forever ❤️

user53: excuse me what is happening

camavinga: proud to say i knew first 🖐🏾

aurelientchm: would u like a medal??

camavinga: uh yes actually if u don’t mind

aurelientchm: 🥇

camavinga: 🥺🥺

user61: the way nobody saw this coming yet their continuous soft launches made it so obvious

user3: fr how did we not connect the dots

user84: it’s literally cross over of century, nobody was expecting it

user21: ohh so this is the girl dating my mans

user68: i can’t even pretend to be sad because she is gorgeous

aurelientchm: she’s the most beautiful girl in the world.

user32: the stuff i would do for a relationship like this

yn.ln: never settle for less 💋

liked by aurelientchm, ybsf3 and 495k others

yn.ln: blessed and gifted

view comments…

aurelientchm: waking up to your beautiful face every morning is the best blessing, i love you mon amour.

yn.ln: stop your going to make me blushhhh 🩷🩷

aurelientchm: your what i was made for 💞

user59: oh that man is whipped

ybsf2: model relationship

yn.ln: 🩷❤️🩷

user23: double meaning because they’re perfect together and could both easily be models

user33: to have someone love you the way aurelien loves yn

yn.ln: and the way i love him

user56: girl stop you’re making me jealous

user12: he better treat her right

yn.ln: you definitely don’t need to worry about that being an issue

user4: why are all the baddies taken

user73: aurelien bro leave some for the rest of us

user8: my girls a waggggg

masterlist

fluff

guéla doué x female reader

plot summary: in which reader soft launches and desire comments causing the internet to believe they are dating making guéla jealous.

dating guéla doué in private quickly became your favourite little secret purely for the fact that you loved having something that belonged only to the two of you. the people who mattered knew, everyone else didn’t and that was exactly how you both liked it. However sometimes you liked to play with the internet and subtly post guéla for people to speculate, so after spending half an hour carefully curating the photos you were going to post for a proper soft launch you uploaded them to your instagram and tossed your phone to the side.

liked by desire.doue, yfn2 and 984 others.

yn.ln 💞🌷

view comments….

desire.doue: 👀👀

yfn: my best friend is so beautiful 😍

yfn2: softlaunchhhhh

yn.ln: 😝😝

user1: uhh why is desire in her comments???

user34: i think they’re dating

user9: wait guys desire has been pictured in that exact tracksuit before

user56: they defo dating look at desires comment

user14: bro desire.doue lock in you can’t be getting distracted

user72: my heart just broke because wdym desire has a gf and it’s not me

user29: sorry she’s not even pretty - desire is not touching that

user8: hating isn’t going to make him pick you girl

half an hour later your stomach dropped as you spotted désiré’s comment. of course you knew why he’d commented it, he had recognised guéla instantly, however everyone else didn’t know that and the internet did what the internet does and jumped to conclusions.

by the time you opened tiktok it was already over with people screenshotting the picture, zooming in, placing the picture side by side with pictures of désiré in a similar grey tracksuit, somehow using this as foolproof evidence for your relationship.

your phone rang, it was guéla. the second you answered you heard him sigh.

“have you seen it?” you asked

“i’m looking at it now.”

“i’ve apparently lost my girlfriend.”

“you have not.” you laughed

“the internet thinks i have.” he muttered as you could practically hear him scrolling. “they’re saying your chemistry has been obvious for months.”

“they’re using videos of me standing next to him.” you say rolling your eyes at the ridiculousness.

“they’re making edits.” guéla exhales in disbelief and less than five minutes later he sent one, a montage of you laughing at an event and desire celebrating a goal, the two of you standing on opposite sides of the same room all to a sad love song gathering nearly a million views. you laughed so hard you snorted however guéla did not.

“i don’t see what’s funny.”

meanwhile, désiré had finally realised the extent of the damage he had done.

désiré: bro i’m so sorry

guéla: why would you comment?

désiré: BECAUSE I KNEW IT WAS YOU.

guéla: apparently nobody else did.

désiré: i made it worse didn’t i?

guéla: just a little.

over the next two days it somehow got worse, with your instagram gaining over a million new followers and reporters asking désiré about your post as fans shouted your name whenever he arrived at training. and despite denying all the rumours and explaining that he wasn’t your boyfriend, nobody believed him, with some even pointing out that his brother, guéla, followed you proving that his family must be fond of you as well.

guéla, on the other hand, was trying very hard to pretend none of it bothered him, as he didn’t mention it, didn’t complain, instead simply sending you increasingly dramatic screenshots from gossip pages and new outlets. but by the third day he’d had enough, the pair of you were curled up together on the sofa when he suddenly reached for your phone.

“what are you doing?” you asked

“fixing this.”

“you sound dangerous.” you giggled.

“i am.” guéla assured and before you could stop him, he’d opened your camera.

“smile.”

“i don’t trust that tone.”

“you don’t have to.”

guéla pulled you deep into his lap as you laughed, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, his chin resting neatly on your shoulder as the picture was taken. seeing what he was doing and deciding this wasn’t enough, you sent guéla more photos of the two of you that spanned the period of your relationship.

pleased with himself, guéla opened instagram and posted, tagging you, comments off.

liked by desire.doue, yn.ln and 806k others

guela.doue mine ❤️

tagged yn.ln

comments on this post have been turned off.

“there.”

“…guéla.”

“what?”

“you’ve just hard launched us to millions of people.”

“i know.” he stated blissfully. “désiré can stop complaining now.”

“oh? so this wasn’t because you were jealous?”

“i wasn’t jealous.” he denied.

“hmm you absolutely were.”

“i was correcting misinformation.”

“mhm.”

“you were being shipped with my brother, what else was i meant to do?”

“so you were jealous.” you teased.

he looked at you for a long second before letting out a defeated sigh.

“fine, maybe a little.”

you grinned.

“only a little?”

guéla leaned in until your foreheads touched.

“enough to tell the whole internet that you’re mine.” he spoke lowly as your smile softened.

“good thing i already knew that.”

he kissed you gently, smiling against your lips.

“yeah,” he murmured. “but now they know too.”

masterlist

fluff

michael olise x female reader

plot summary: in which michael olise refuses to do a post match interview unless it’s with you.

note: pls lmk if you would like this to have a part two because i think it could work, also reminder that my requests are open and very dry currently so feel free to send any requests u like.

nobody noticed it the first time, after all michael olise was infamous for his post-match interviews, or therefore lack of. he kept things short, answering politely, praising teammates, thanking fans and disappearing before anyone could dare ask him another question.

so when he declined one broadcaster after a 2-1 win at the allianz arena and instead walked directly towards you, nobody thought much of it, everyone assumed it had been arranged beforehand. you too had assumed the same and it wasn’t until it happened again and again and again that people started to talk.

after almost every match, the routine was identical.

“michael! over here!”

“michael, just one question please?”

“michael, i’m with sky sports can we please have a minute?!”

the voices and desperate yells of journalists from all over the world overlapped each other, with microphones being shoved into faces, everyone wanting to talk to michael.

bayern’s media officer barely looked up from his clipboard anymore.

“…waiting for her?” he asked.

michael simply nodded, watching you from across the media zone as you finished up an interview with one of his teammates. he never complained, instead he’d lean against the wall, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, quietly waiting until you were free. sometimes it was five minutes, sometimes ten, once, nearly twenty.

“you know you don’t have to wait.” you laughed one evening as you hurried over after a particularly long interview, “i’m so sorry.”

“it’s alright.” michael replied, standing up straighter.

“you’ve been standing here this whole time?”

“you were busy.”

“you could’ve gone home.”

“i could have.”

“…but you didn’t.”

michael gave a small shrug.

“i wanted to talk to you.”

as the months passed, interviewing michael became easy. whilst at first every answer had been short, snippy and careful, now he actually smiled, giving detail in his answers, and occasionally he even laughed.

“you looked frustrated after that missed chance.”

“i was.”

“i was wondering if you’d admit that.”

“well, i knew you’d ask.”

another evening, after a late winner, you teased him about his celebration.

“you smiled.”

“did i?” michael replied, feigning confusion.

“you did.”

“hmm.”

“you know there are photos.” you told him coyishly causing him to break out into a reserved grin.

“that’s unfortunate.”

then came the first match you missed. you’d come down with a bad flu, and despite insisting you were well enough to travel, your producer refused to let you work.

“rest,” he had told you. “we’ll send someone else.”

after the match, as usual michael made his way into the media area, looking around the room, his eyes darting from camera crew to camera crew before stopping as the media officer droned on in his ear.

“…where is she?” he asked, completely ignoring any previous conversation.

the media officer looked up in recognition.

“oh… she’s off today.”

michael frowned.

“…off?”

“she’s ill.” the media officer clarified.

michael glanced back towards the tunnel, almost expecting you to appear anyway. you didn’t.

“they’ve sent someone else,” the media officer added, directing him towards a disturbingly striking blonde with a wide smile.

“i’ll be interviewing you tonight.” she spoke, her voice grating in his ears.

michael shook his head.

“no.”

the reporter blinked.

“…no?”

“no you won’t. i’m not doing interviews.”

“michael…”

“i’ll wait.”

bayern’s media officer couldn’t help but smile.

“she’s not running late.”

“…oh.”

and for the first time all evening, he looked genuinely disappointed.

when you missed the following midweek fixture as well, everyone already knew how it would go down as they watched the replacement reporter approach him.

“ready?” she asked.

“…is she back?”

“not yet.”

michael sighed quietly.

“i’ll pass.”

the reporter laughed sourly.

“you know, you’re making the rest of us look bad.”

“sorry.” he replied dryly, walking off, not sorry at all.

by the weekend, you were finally back and the moment you stepped into the tunnel, several reporters grinned.

“look who’s here.” one jeered.

“he’s been unbearable.” another nudged you.

but before you could ask what they meant, michael walked out, his eyes immediately finding yours, the tiny crease between his brows disappearing, as his body visibly relaxed.

“you came back.”

“i did.”

“you look better.”

“i feel better.”

you both smiled shyly.

“i heard you refused to speak to my replacement.” you joked.

“i did.” michael confirmed.

“…michael.”

“what?” he asked, dead serious.

“you could’ve just done the interview.”

he looked at you as though the answer was obvious.

“they weren’t you.”

heat crept up your cheeks.

“come on, that’s not exactly fair on them.”

“i know.”

“…then why?”

michael thought for a moment before answering.

“i like talking to you.”

the words were so quiet you almost missed them but before you could respond one of the camera operators called from behind you.

“mate, i don’t think you’re exactly fooling anyone anymore.”

laughter echoed through the tunnel as michael looked around in confusion.

“what?”

you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

“nothing.”

“i’m fairly certain it wasn’t ‘nothing’.”

your producer shook his head, trying to hide a smile, and failing, as you looked back at michael.

“so…”

you clipped the microphone onto your jacket and passed him the handheld microphone, his fingers brushing yours in the intimacy of the moment.

“interview?” you asked.

a small, genuine smile appeared on his face, the kind that only seemed to surface around you.

“yeah, i’ve been waiting.”

i’m still here

masterlist

fluff/angst

désiré doué x female reader

trigger warning: no direct mentions of self-harm but it is heavily hinted at along with reader’s mental health struggles.

désiré had been lying in bed, eyes heavy with sleep, when his phone buzzed against his chest. he unlocked his screen to see a text from you, causing a smile to tug its way at his lips.

‘i love you.’

he typed back without hesitation.

‘i love you too.’

another message appeared almost instantly.

‘no, like, i really love you.’

a small laugh escaped his chest.

‘that’s concerning.’

you were quick to reply.

‘thank you for staying with me through everything.’

at that désiré’s smile faltered, whilst the words themselves weren’t alarming, they made something in his chest tighten.

for the past few months, you’d been struggling, trying your best, but struggling, nonetheless. there were days when you seemed brighter and bouncier, and there were days where he could hear the exhaustion in your voice before you’d even said hello.

désiré sat up a little straighter as another set of messages came through.

‘you deserve the world.’

‘i’m so lucky to have you.’

‘promise me you’ll never forget that?’

désiré frowned as his fingers hovered over the keyboard, something to him felt not quite right.

‘baby?’

‘what’s going on?’

the messages delivered themselves to you instantly, however no response came his way. désiré stared at the screen waiting anxiously as one minute passed, then two, then three and still he had received no reply from you. with anxiety eating at him from the inside he called you, ears drumming with suspense on each ring. no answer. his stomach dropped as he hung up and immediately called again, this time getting sent to voicemail. A horrible feeling crawled into désiré’s chest, the kind that infiltrated your body and arrived before your brain had caught up.

his thumb flew across the lit up screen.

‘answer me.’

‘please’

‘y/n?’

all of the messages remained unread.

désiré’s heart was beating too fast now, too loud, as it rattled in his ears. he tried telling himself that there was a reasonable explanation, perhaps your phone had died, or you were in the shower. either way the thoughts wouldn’t stop invading his mind because he knew you. he had spent nights listening to you talk about how hard things felt, nights holding you while you cried, nights assuring and promising you that he wasn’t going anywhere.

he called again and again and again, still no answer. his breathing became uneven and by now there were nearly twenty messages filling the shared chat, every single one left on delivered. suddenly a memory flashed through his mind of the pair of you sitting on his sofa weeks ago as you confessed quietly that sometimes you didn’t know how to handle the weight of everything.

the memory was enough to make désiré stand up immediately, all the blood rushing to his head in the rapidness of the moment, as his keys were in hand before he’d even made the conscious decision to leave.

the drive to your apartment was torture, every second felt longer than the last and every red light felt personal. désiré’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white as he called again through the car speakers only to again be sent straight to voicemail.

“come on.” he muttered, frustration filling his lungs.

“come on, baby, pick up.”

his voice cracked and the silence that followed was unbearable, because for the first time in months he felt genuinely terrified, he felt entrapped in the kind of fear that settled in your bones and made it hard to breathe.

no matter how much he tried to reason with himself, his mind kept creating new scenarios, each one worse than the last. he hated himself for thinking like this but he couldn’t stop it.

désiré didn’t even remember parking as he reached your apartment building, one moment he was in the car and the next he was running, his heart slamming against his ribs as he climbed the stairs two at a time, not willing to take the risk of waiting for the elevator.

reaching your apartment door he knocked hard enough for it to hurt.

“y/n!” he yelled.

nothing.

he knocked again, this time louder.

“baby!”

only silence followed causing his chest tightened painfully as his clammy hands now shook aggressively. désiré pulled out his phone, calling you again. then he heard it, the faint ringing from inside the apartment, what should’ve reassured him instead filled him with dread, making him feel sick. the sound meant your phone was there and working and you weren’t answering it.

“damn it.” his voice broke as he fumbled with the spare key that nearly slipped from his fingers twice before he managed to unlock the door, hands still shaking.

upon entering, the apartment was dark, too dark and désiré’s pulse roared in his ears.

“y/n?” désiré begged as he took another step inside.

“please.”

the word escaped before he was even aware that his mouth was moving as he turned towards the living room and froze.

you were there, curled up beneath a blanket, fast asleep with the television flickering and humming softly in the darkness. an untouched cup of tea sat on the coffee table and next to that your phone rested face-down and silent beside it.

for a moment désiré simply stared, unable to process what he was seeing, the fear he had felt only seconds ago drained from him so suddenly it almost hurt. his knees felt weak, his vision blurred and a hand covered his mouth as to his absolute horror he realised tears had filled his eyes.

you were okay. you were okay. you were okay. the though repeated over and over in his head like a prayer, like something he needed to convince himself of.

a shaky breath escaped him, then another, and soon enough désiré’s entire body was trembling. you shifted slightly at the sound, blinking awake.

“désiré?” your sleepy voice cut through the silence.

he closed his eyes briefly as relief hit him so hard, he thought he might actually cry.

you sat up confused.

“what are you doing here?”

the second he reached you, he wrapped his arms around you, tightly and desperately, causing you to immediately feel how hard he was shaking.

“désiré?”

his face buried itself in your shoulder and for several seconds he couldn’t speak, couldn’t trust his voice, but finally he managed a whisper.

“you scared me.”

the words sounded broken, so raw as you pulled back enough to see his face, the sight making your stomach drop. his eyes were aggressively red, like he’d been crying.

“what happened?” you asked.

he laughed, a short, disbelieving sound.

“what happened?” his voice cracked, “i thought something happened to you.”

you looked at the coffee table now, at the dozens of notifications covering your screen. the missed calls and messages, the panic in his eyes suddenly making sense.

“oh my god,” your hand flew to your mouth, “i fell asleep.”

“i know.”

“but-”

“i know.”

his voice was gentler now, but somehow that made it worse, because you could still hear how scared he’d been.

“you stopped answering.” you remained silent, “i kept calling.”

his gaze dopped to the floor, his breath hitching.

“and every time you didn’t pick up…”

he couldn’t finish and now you felt tears stinging your own eyes.

“desiré, i’m so sorry.”

he shook his head immediately, not angry, just exhausted and drained.

“i got here and i thought…”

his voice failed him again, the sentence remaining unfinished with neither of you needing to hear the ending, as you wrapped your arms around him.

“i’m here.” you murmured into his ear, the words barely above a whisper.

his eyes squeezed shut and you felt him nod, once and then twice, almost like he was grounding himself, reminding himself it was true.

when he finally spoke, his voice was small.

“i don’t know what i would’ve done.”

the confession shattered your heart because you knew he meant it, every word. so you held him tighter, and for the rest of the night, neither of you slept much instead you stayed curled together on the sofa, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, your head against his chest. and every so often, long after he’d convinced himself you were safe, désiré would glance down just to make sure you were still there, still breathing, still with him, and every single, the relief washed over him all over again like a baptism.

masterlist

fluff

désiré doué x female reader

plot summary: in which reader is brasilian and dating désiré as he plays in the world cup final, france vs brasil, where france win.

the final whistle felt like a punch to the gut as the stadium exploded around you as france were to be crowned world champions. blue shirts flooded the pitch with french supporters screaming, crying and singing whilst cameras flashed from every direction.

however all you could focus on was the brasilian players. some on their knees frozen, some with their shirts pulled over their faces in an attempt to hide their tears, as your heart broke for each and every single one of them.

you’d grown up dreaming of brasil lifting another world cup, listening to your father reminisce on past tournaments and wearing yellow football shirts that were passed down from your older cousins so rested at your knees.

to you brasil wasn’t just a football team, it was home. and now they had lost in the final on a world stage to france. désiré’s france.

you swallowed hard as tears filled your eyes, forcing yourself to get a grip because somewhere on the pitch amongst the blue was your boyfriend, and he had just become world cup champion. for désiré this was the biggest achievement of his life and you couldn’t let the first thing he see be your disappointment, so you wiped your eyes, taking a deep breath and stood up on shaky legs.

the french players were celebrating near the centre circle when you spotted désiré looking like he was struggling to process what had happened as one teammate hung off his shoulder whilst another was screaming directly into his ear. yet somehow, through all the chaos, his eyes found yours, and the second they did, his face lit up. the smile that appeared almost broke you, the way he looked so unbelievably happy, the kind of happy you would never want to take from someone, especially him.

families were eventually let down onto the pitch, and you walked slowly across the grass, trying to keep your expression neutral and avoid thinking about brasil and the tears you’d been holding back since the final whistle.

“amor.”

you looked up to see désiré jogging towards you, smile wide, as the gold medal bounced against his chest. before you could react, he had wrapped both arms around your waist and pulled you into him.

“i can’t believe it.”

his voice was breathless.

“i actually can’t believe it.”

you laughed softly.

“i’m proud of you.”

and you meant it, every word, in fact you’d never been prouder, and that was the problem, your heart was filled with pride and heartbreak at the same time.

désiré pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes, his hands still locked on your waist, but his smile faded, just a little.

“hey.” he said, and you immediately knew he’d noticed. of course he had, he noticed everything.

“you okay?”

you forced another smile.

“yeah.”

he gave you a look which told you he didn’t believe that for a second.

“you don’t have to pretend.”

“i’m not pretending.”

“you are.”

your eyes dropped to the grass and désiré sighed softly.

“brasil.”

the single word was enough to make your throat tighten immediately and you nodded just once as suddenly all the emotions you’d spent the last hour pushing down came rushing back.

“i really thought we had it,” you uttered, your voice coming out quieter than expected.

désiré didn’t say anything just simply listened.

“i know it’s stupid.”

“it’s not stupid.”

“it’s just...,” you laughed weakly, “it hurts.”

his expression softened instantly. the same way it always did when you were upset. the same way it had since the day you met.

for a moment neither of you spoke as the celebrations continued around you, cameras flashing whilst blue and white confetti littered the grass below your feet. a million happy memories being made around you all at once, yet the air felt quiet as if the two of you were in your own world.

then désiré stepped closer.

“you know what i was thinking about after the final whistle?”

you looked up.

“what?”

“you.”

your eyebrows furrowed.

“me?”

he nodded.

“the first person i wanted to find.”

it was as if he had reached into your soul and squeezed your heart.

“dés…”

“i’m serious,” he states, his thumb brushing gently against your arm.

“i know how much brasil means to you.”

you looked away because you knew if you kept looking at him you were definitely going to cry. unfortunately for you, désiré knew you too well as he slipped a hand beneath your chin, lifting your face towards his. and the second he saw your tear-filled eyes, his heart visibly broke.

“oh, bebê.”

that was it, the final straw, as the tears finally escaped and you hated yourself for it immediately.

“i’m sorry.”

“what are you apologising for?”

“it’s your day.”

“it can be my day and still be hard for you.”

you laughed through tears.

“that’s not how this works.”

“it is.”

“no.”

“yes.” he insisted and despite everything, a tiny smile appeared on your face.

désiré wiped the tears from your cheek, patiently catching them as they fell, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“you know,” he said softly, “if brasil had won…”

you narrowed your eyes.

“don’t say that.”

“what?”

“you would’ve been devastated.”

He paused.

“… okay, yes.”

“exactly.”

he laughed and for a few moments, you simply stood together, his arms around your waist, your head resting against his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath all the noise.

eventually he kissed the top of your head.

“i’m sorry.”

you immediately shook your head.

“no.”

“yes.”

“no.”

you looked up at him, at the medal around his neck catching the stadium lights, as his eyes shone, not from tears but happiness and pride, from achieving something he’d dreamed about his entire life. suddenly your disappointment felt smaller, not gone, never gone, but smaller, because how could you look at him like this and not be happy too?

you reached up and touched his medal causing a grin to slowly spread across his face.

“there she is.”

“what?”

“my girlfriend.”

you rolled your eyes.

“i hate you.”

“no you don’t.”

“no i don’t”

he laughed leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, the kind he always have you when he wanted you to feel safe and loved.

“you’ll always have brasil.”

you smiled sadly.

“and you’ll always have this.” you replied.

“exactly.”

“arrogant.”

“world champion.”

you groaned.

“there it is.”

“i had to say it.”

“you absolutely did not.”

“i absolutely did.” He mocked.

for the first time since the final whistle, you laughed properly, and the smile that spread across désiré’s face was quickly mirrored by your own as you slipped your hand into his and squeezed gently, causing his smile to soften.

“i’m proud of you, world champion.”

Thank you I absolutely love ur writing!! 🤍🤍

after the whistle

masterlist

fluff

michael olise x female reader

the loss had followed michael all the way home, lingering in the silence of the car, the aches in his legs acting as a harsh reminder as he stared blankly out of the window watching the city light blur past. usually after matches he would scroll through his phone watching match replays and answering messages from teammates and family but tonight he couldn’t bring himself to look. tonight, everything felt heavy. whilst the final whistle had gone hours ago, it still rang in his ears, as his mind flashed images of the missed opportunities, the chances they should’ve finished, the disappointed fans and the frustration on everyone’s face.

by the time he unlocked the apartment door, exhaustion had infiltrated every part of him. the warm glow from the living room greeted him first quickly followed by the smell of your favourite candles creating the familiar scent of home, and for the first time since kick off his shoulders relaxed slightly.

he stepped inside quietly, dropping his bag by the door as the television played softly in the background. michael was halfway through taking off his trainers when he heard your voice.

“michael?”

the moment he looked up and saw you, something in him cracked. you were curled up on the sofa under a blanket, wearing one of his hoodies that swallowed your frame. your hair was slightly messy from lying down and there was a half-finished mug of green tea resting on the coffee table beside you. you looked so comfortable, so safe, yet the second your eyes met his, your expression changed and the smile you’d been wearing disappeared.

“oh.”

you stood up immediately, the concern on your face making his chest tighten.

“hi,” he said quietly.

you crossed the room in seconds.

“baby.”

that was all it took, just the one word, for michael’s throat to tighten as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

normally he would’ve teased you for nearly knocking him over but tonight he simply melted into you, his arms circling your shoulders whilst his face buried itself into the crook of your neck as you held him tighter.

neither of you spoke for a moment. instead you simply stood there together in the middle of the living room while michael allowed himself to breathe. you reached up, your hand sliding into his curls, scratching lightly against his scalp in an effort of serenity as a quiet sigh scaped him.

“there he is,” you murmured into his ear, as he closed his eyes.

“you watched?”

“of course i watched.”

he let out a humourless laugh.

“wish you hadn’t.”

you immediately pulled back enough to look at him.

“don’t say that.”

his gaze dropped to the floor.

“we were awful.”

“you weren’t awful.”

“we lost.”

“that’s not the same thing.”

michael rolled his eyes slightly causing you to reach up and gently squeeze his cheeks.

“look at me.”

reluctantly, he did and your expression softened immediately. you always looked at him like that, like he was worth something regardless of what happened on the football pitch, and michael thought it was unfair, and that he was undeserving of such love.

“you know what i saw?” you asked making michael shrug.

“i saw someone who ran himself into the ground for ninety minutes and never stopped trying.”

he shook his head.

“doesn’t matter.”

“it does matter.” you assured, your voice gentle but firm as his eyes met yours, disappointment still present, sitting heavily in his chest, but standing this close to you made it harder to drown in.

“i’m proud of you.”

michael let out a laugh of disbelief.

“for losing?”

“no”

you smiled, leaning forward and pressing a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“for caring this much.”

you lay another kiss on his face.

“for working hard.”

another.

“for always giving everything.”

a fourth kiss landed on his cheek.

“and for being so ridiculously handsome.”

that finally earned a proper smile.

“there it is,” you breathed out immediately.

“what?”

“that smile.”

his face scrunched up.

“i was smiling before.”

“no you weren’t,” you scoffed.

“i was.”

“you looked like someone had just cancelled christmas.”

michael let out a loud laugh despite himself, and the sound made your entire face light up as if you’d won gold.

“there he is,” you repeated proudly.

“you act like i’ve been missing.”

“you have.”

he shook his head, smiling now, as you slipped your hands into his.

“come on.”

“where?”

“recovery protocol.”

michael raised an eyebrow.

“recovery protocol?”

you nodded, dead serious.

“blankets.”

he hummed.

“takeaway.”

a second nod.

“lots of cuddles.”

his smile widened.

“and?” he asked, causing you to pause for a moment, thinking.

“no football highlights.”

“good.”

“no social media.”

“even better.”

“and…”

you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“an excessive, yet mandatory amount of kisses.” you whispered as michael laughed again.

“i don’t think that’s proper medical advice.”

“it is in this house.” you replied and before he could respond, you pressed your lips against his in a soft, slow and comforting kiss. the kind that made him forget about all the noise for a moment. when you pulled away his forehead rested against yours and your noses brushed together.

“you know,” you murmured, “i really did miss you.”

“i was only gone for a few hours.”

“a few very long hours.”

his arms tightened around your waist, as he pulled you impossibly closer and for the first time all day, the knot in his chest began to loosen. of course, the loss still hurt, and tomorrow he’d probably watch clips back, overanalysing everything and become frustrated all over again. but right now? right now you were standing in his arms, as your body moulded into his, wearing his hoodie, looking at him like he was the best thing in the world, and somehow that made everything feel lighter.

“you really don’t care that we lost?” he asked quietly.

“of course i care,” you smiled as his eyebrows lifted

“i care because i know it hurts you.” you said, your hand now resting against his chest.

“but whether you win five – nil or lose five – nil, i still get the same michael.”

he continued to stare at you.

“and i happen to be very fond of him.”

a blush crept onto his cheeks immediately.

“there she goes.”

“what?”

“being cute.”

you gasped dramatically.

“me? cute?”

“the cutest.”

the grin on your face could’ve powered the entire city as you launched yourself into another hug. michael caught you instantly, holding you close, laughing as you buried your face into his chest, and for the first time since the final whistle, everything felt okay. mot because the loss mattered any less, but because he was home, and home was you.

family days out

masterlist

fluff

bradley barcola x female reader

the morning started with the sound of tiny footsteps pattering along the wooden floorboards of your home, racing down the hallway. you were still half asleep, eyes heavy with sleep when your bedroom door burst open.

“mama!”

a small body launched itself onto the bed, immediately landing on top of you as you let out an exaggerated groan.

“oh no help me, i’ve been attacked!”

your daughter giggled climbing further up the bed to lay her head on the neighbouring pillow as bradley appeared in the doorway, already dressed for the day.

“i tried to stop her.”

“you absolutely did not.”

“okay i did consider it.”

you raised an eyebrow.

he smiled at you as he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a hand through your daughter’s messy curls. she immediately leaned into him.

“daddy.”

“yes?”

“today.”

bradley laughed.

“today?”

“the park.”

“ah, the park.”

for the past week and a half she’d been constantly asking about this new park in your neighbourhood. no matter what anyone was talking about, she’d somehow find a way to mention it.

breakfast? the park.

bedtime? the park.

on the way to school? the park.

getting out of the house took nearly an hour because of a very determined four year old who couldn’t decide what she wanted to wear.

one moment she wanted a pink dress. the next she wanted trousers. then she wanted the dress again. then finally she decided she wanted to dress exactly like bradley.

“you want to wear daddy’s clothes?”

“yes.”

bradley looked delighted.

“see? she has taste.”

eventually, twenty minutes later she emerged from her room wearing nike dunks perfectly made for her little feet, oversized sunglasses, and a psg cap, courtesy of bradley, that looked ridiculous on her small head.

she looked incredibly proud of herself posing dramatically as bradley immediately pulled out his phone to capture the moment.

the pair of them were genuinely impossible together, but you loved it.

the park was slightly busy but beautiful nonetheless. the trees were bright green as sunlight filtered through the leaves painting golden patches across the paved pathway.

the moment you arrived, your daughter grabbed bradley’s hand and started pulling him forward.

“hurry daddy!”

“i’m hurrying.”

“no, faster!”

bradley glanced over his shoulder at you.

“apparently i need to run.”

“run along then.”

he looked back down at your daughter and laughed before scooping her up into his arms instead. the shrieks of laughter that followed echoed through the entire park as you couldn’t help but smile. no matter how busy football got, no matter how many matches, interviews or obligations filled his schedule, bradley never seemed tired when it came to her. she could ask him to play the same game one hundred times over and he’d do it every time. she could tell him the world’s longest, most confusing story and he’d listen like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever heard. she had him absolutely wrapped around her little finger and everyone knew it, including her.

the playground was the first stop on the list as you sat on a nearby bench, watching on while bradley followed your daughter from swing to slide.

“daddy, watch!”

“i’m watching.”

“daddy!”

“i’m still watching.”

“daddy!”

“i have not stopped watching.”

she flew down the slide, arms in the air as if she was riding a thriller roller coaster.

“did you see?”

“i did.”

“was it amazing?”

“only the most amazing slide i’ve ever seen.”

she nodded seriously.

“that’s what I thought.”

a little later on, the three of you wandered through a nearby market. your daughter sat comfortably on bradley’s shoulders now, hands tangled in his hair as he linked one of his own hand with yours. his other hand never strayed far from her leg, protective without even thinking about it, the sight making your chest ache in the best way.

from above you two, your daughter acted as narrator, pointing out every small detail of the environment around you.

“dog.”

“yes.”

“bird.”

“correct.”

“tree.”

“woah, you’re on a roll.”

when you stopped for ice cream, things quickly transcended into chaos. your daughter had insisted on chocolate. a terrible choice. within minutes it was everywhere. her face, her hands, her shirt and somehow even her hair as bradley was trying (and failing) to clean her up with napkins.

“stay still.”

“no.”

“please.”

“no.”

you watched him struggle for another thirty seconds before dissolving into laughter.

bradley looked up at you helplessly.

“you’re supposed to help me.”

“no, this is hilarious.”

“you’re unbelievable.”

“you let her choose chocolate.”

“she wouldn’t have accepted anything else.”

your daughter nodded proudly.

“chocolate.”

“see?” bradley pointed out, exasperated. “no regrets.”

the afternoon drifted by slowly after that, with the three of you wandering through the park, stopping whenever you daughter found something interesting, which was constantly. to her everything deserved investigation, everything deserved discussion and bradley treated every discovery as though it were groundbreaking, one for the history books.

by the time the sun began setting, your daughter was finally starting to tire. her energy had faded and her eyes blinked slower, heavy with sleep. her small hand remained curled around bradley’s finger. you took notice before he did.

“she’s getting sleepy.”

bradley glanced down and sure enough, she was rubbing her eyes.

“no mama.”

you smiled, amused.

“no?”

“i’m not tired.”

a yawn interrupted her sentence causing bradley to laugh softly.

“of course not.”

by the time you started walking home, your daughter had fallen asleep completely. bradley carried her against his chest with one arm securely beneath her legs and the other supporting her back as her cheek squished against his shoulder. you reached over and gently brushed a curl from her face as neither of you spoke for a moment, taking it in. the evening air was cool with the city around you feeling quieter. peaceful.

bradley finally looked over at you.

“good day?”

you smiled at him lovingly.

“the best.”

his gaze softened towards you as he glanced down at your sleeping daughter.

“i think she agrees.”

you moved closer in until your shoulder brushed his and he leaned into the contact instinctively. for a few seconds neither of you said anything, just walked together watching the sunset decorate the streets all shades of the day and night. these were the kinds of moments that stayed off camera, between the three of you, the ordinary moments that ended up meaning the most.

bradley pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. you looked up at him and he smiled as you continued home together, carrying your sleeping daughter between you.