jeudi 11:35
"Hey there Adidas girl." Julian almost pulled Marcelle into his flat as she stood in front of his door. It was only eleven o'clock, and he just arrived back from training, but he's always down to see Marcelle anytime, anyday.
She laughed and pushed him roughly on the shoulder. "Shut up."
"What? I told you!" He pulled her into his embrace. "I told you that if you ever got a sponsorship with Adidas and we got together, we'd be an Adidas couple."
"But no one else really knows that we're dating," she mentioned, peeling herself off of his body.
It was yesterday that Marcelle had signed a sponsorship with Adidas. It took only four matches with PSG Féminines, in which she proved her love and excellence to the sport, to tell the entire world that she was serious about football. However, it only took one Instagram picture posted by Julian for everyone to think that they were in a secret, long-term relationship, as if they already weren't.
Apparently, Julian put Marcelle's sponsorship and his sponsorship to create this ridiculous claim that they were meant to be.
"So what are you doing here?" he asked her, running his hands through his hair.
Marcelle crossed her arms as she strode into his flat, leaning against the wall. She shrugged. "Did you not want me to be here?"
"No—yes." What? "Whatever, I was just asking—"
"I guess I'll just leave then," she chirped turning to head towards the door, only to be stopped by Julian tugging the back of her sweatshirt, pouting.
Wow, how is he a footballer again? How did I end up dating him?
She laughed into his chest as he pulled her in, placing a kiss on her temple. "I wanted to stop by this morning because I feel like we never see each other that much anymore."
"Never is a very strong word," Julian raised his eyebrow jokingly.
"No, like we don't spent enough time together anymore," she explained. "We're always busy with footballer duties and plans with friends, we never really have the time to go out and do something...amazing."
Marcelle was right in every single way. She knew that earning the chance to do what she loved meant the sacrifice of so many things she wanted so badly to do, but she was just blinded by it when she and Julian connected.
Now, it wasn't like there was anything they could do. They might as well just roll with it.
He headed towards the kitchen with Marcelle following behind as he took a look through his cabinet. "Well you, little Miss Popular, here are basically taking the entire world by storm. I don't think there is a day that passes by where there isn't someone wanting to take a picture with you instead of me."
Her cheeks reddened a little and her lips formed a smile. She had become a role model for all, and she hadn't even thought of it.
"What I'm trying to say is," he continued, "this is the life of a professional athlete. If this is all becoming too much for you—"
"Oh, I'm not here to break up with you. Fuck that," she stated, snorting right after. "I came here because I can, and because I miss you."
A smile immediately grew on his lips and his face flushed with happiness. "But I came over to your place, all day yesterday. Even when you went to training."
Julian came to Marcelle's flat at exactly seven o'clock in the morning to be greeted by her grouchy morning ass and a sandwich warming up in her beloved toaster oven. And when he said he didn't leave at all, he really didn't.
He just stayed there, even when she left for training and returned two hours later, he was still there watching some French television series on her couch wrapped around with blankets. It's like he literally lived at her place, but it wasn't like she was complaining about it.
Marcelle sat herself on top of the counter, dangling her legs off of the ledge. "So? If you don't want me here, I can leave."
"Marcelle," he sighed, coming over to tend to her whines. "You're really mean and annoying, but I love you."
"I know that." Say it back, Marcelle! You love the boy, so why don't you say it back!
"So," he spoke, "are we doing anything later today? Like late lunch?"
She shook her head. "I can't do lunch today. Too much work, but I'm open for five o'clock and onwards."
"Say no more, princess. Five o'clock get together is it." Julian pecked her lips lightly, leaving her presence to attend to his, now, burning waffle in the toaster. "Be careful out there, schatz. It's supposed to be showering all day today."
"Um—" she scoffed, "my boots."
She pointed down at her feet, her boots. They were black rain boots, accented with specks of glitter.
"Those are the ugliest things I've ever seen," Julian stated, trying so hard to not burst into laughter. They looked cute on her—he had to admit it, but of course he'll take the chance to mess with Marcelle. "Good thing you're sponsored by Adidas now, they'll give you some actual shoes."
She stood there, jaw hanging below her before regaining her composure and sighing deeply. "Okay." She slid herself off the counter and went to wander in the kitchen with her back faced towards Julian.
And of course, Julian, being the most clueless boy ever in existence, didn't understand her actions right now. "Hey, can you get me a glass of water?"
Marcelle nodded, but seconds later she would come back with a cup of ice, placing it on the counter.
"Wait," she told him.
//
jeudi 14:27
This was new to Marcelle.
Being famous. Being a footballer that was rapidly rising up through the ranks, through the levels of respect, skill, and popularity. Hell, even being in a relationship was relatively new to her.
But somehow, she found herself to like the feeling of it. She had become accustomed to the busy lifestyle of a footballer, feeling as if it were a blessing granted to her even thought she felt she didn't deserve it at times. She also quickly grew appreciative of Julian and his efforts to make her happy.
That's how she was now in a dressing room for an Adidas photoshoot. Dressed in nothing but a grey sports bra and leggings, she sat there shivering under a blanket as she awaited for them to call her out.
"So cold," she whispered to herself. Even in a building where the heater is turned all the way up, Marcelle is still freezing her ass off. That's how bad winters in France are.
"Miss Vaugrenard?" She turned her head to the door where a tall, blonde lady with a pen behind her ear stood, peeking her head through the crack of the door. "'l'm Gabrielle, I am the assistant photographer today. We're ready to start now, if you'd like."
The twenty-one year old nodded, hopping off from her chair and followed the woman right behind her. With the blanket still wrapped around her, of course.
"I don't know if anyone has told you yet," Gabrielle spoke, "but there's another person who's going to be in the shots with you."
It was funny how five months ago, Marcelle would vigorously reject any chances at socializing. But by now, she's just rolling with it. "Yeah, fine with me."
"Okay, because I wanted to ask especially with everything going on with you two." They reached the set of the photoshoot, her eyes immediately being welcomed by bright lights and a great, big, expensive looking camera. "I didn't want to create some sort of situation."
She shrugged. "Why?"
Two seconds later, she now knew why.
"There's my girl!" She was engulfed into a huge hug by none other than Julian fucking Draxler.
Even when they came to the fact that their schedules were both busy until the evening, three hours later, they come to find each other in the same place. And she looked mortified.
"How are you? You—" He separated from the hug and immediately saw her facial expression. "You don't look so happy. Are you still mad about this morning? All I did was insult your ugly ass rain boots."
Gabrielle broke out into laugher, trying so hard to contain it as she watched the two lovebirds seemingly quarrel with each other. Marcelle scoffed, burying her head into her hands. "Julian, you're an amazing boyfriend, but what are you doing here?"
"For the photoshoot, duh," he told her. "We're doing this together."
"Okay, but when was this scheduled?!" she exclaimed, sounding irritated and confused. "Had I knew it was going to be with you, I would have declined to do this."
"I see how it is, Mar—"
"Excuse me," a man, presumably the photographer, came in between them, "but can we get this shoot started with? It is scheduled to end at four-ish, and I need to go home to my wife because she's pissed at me, okay?"
Both footballers nodded silently and headed over the set, standing near the red dot that was projected on the floor.
This was all new stuff to Marcelle. She had never been professionally photographed before, let alone been in a set as complex as this. It went for Julian as well since the man had very little experience being in photoshoots. usually, it was just him kicking a ball.
"Okay," Gabrielle spoke, "so I want you two to stand back to back like—yeah, just like that. And then you both cross your arms and look at the camera."
Marcelle and Julian stood back to back, arms crossed and looking right into the camera as Gabrielle told them, earning a whisper of perfect as the photographer quickly snapped the photos. And of course, Marcelle had left her beloved blanket somewhere offset.
"Gabrielle's been telling me all of these things about you two," the photographer said. "All these things about rumors, secrets, dating..."
"We're dating," Marcelle explained, quickly any assumptions.
"Just not...publicly," Julian added.
The photographer nodded, as Gabrielle instructed the two into a different pose. Julian and Marcelle now side by side, looking downwards.
"And you...Marcelle? I was about to call you Mario," he continued. "You know, a lot of people call you the female Neymar or some shit like that."
She snickered. The female Neymar? Come on. "You have to be kidding me. Neymar? At least compare me to someone on my level."
"Neymar has nothing on you, schatz," Julian remarked, making her crack a smile. "You're like Kaká."
"Don't disrespect a legend, Jule. I'm honestly a Gareth Bale, at best...just doing better than he is right now."
The German laughed, grinning as he shook his head. Honestly, he can't believe how they went from being incompatible to being each other's missing piece. Julian doesn't want to seem dramatic, but he thinks that everything just might end up better than he anticipated between them.
"You can go and get changed into the other outfits in your dressing rooms right now," Gabrielle announced to the both them. "We're going to take some shots outside while the rain has stopped."
"Gabi, this is the one with the cleats, yeah?" the photographer asked.
She shook her head as a no, then turned to the two lovebirds who were now walking off the set together, seemingly going in the same direction. "Oh and you get to keep the cleats. Courtesy of Adidas."
Marcelle turned her head towards Julian, her face in shock. "I get to keep them?!"
"Now you don't have to keep using the same ugly ass cleats ever again!"
"Watch it, Draxler."
//
tagged
marcellevaugrenard, draxlerofficial
109,273 likes
adidas: Love is in the air. #UltraBOOST
minnzh032: Best!
anabbonelli: I think they're dating
tre_sims: F4f
11n.cp: 🇫🇷🇩🇪
s_serenaaa_: Cute
m10_official: I see now my friend @draxlerofficial 😉
adidasfootball: Two amazing players in one photo.
psg: @draxlerofficial You didn't tell us!
//
jeudi 17:57
"Don't tell me you're hungry again," Julian groaned.
Marcelle scoffed and crossed her arms. "What? You know I get hungry all the time. I eat what I see."
He laughed and kissed the top of her head as they walked down the streets of the seventh arrondissement of Paris.
They were out for dinner and dessert and everything in between as they both finished their photoshoot with Adidas just about an hour ago. And somehow, just somehow, the rest of the day was all to themselves. It was like they weren't the professional footballers everyone in France knew—they were just Julian and Marcelle.
With his arm around Marcelle's shoulders as he kept her close, Julian can't help but to wonder the many times they've come to the seventh arrondissement. The first time, it wasn't even a date. It was for dinner, if he remembered correctly, and he even took a picture of himself with the Eiffel Tower in the background.
"...we could also eat ice cream. You remember that one ice cream shop we went to last month?" Suddenly, Julian spurred back into reality, realizing he hadn't been listening to whatever Marcelle was saying. "Or we could go to Ladurée in the eighth arrondissement! I don't know if you're up to drive all the way there but—"
"Remember a month ago, you used to work for a café?" he asked, pointing at a lit café right beside them.
Marcelle looked at him with an expression painted on her face that read both confusion and reminiscence. Had it really been a month ago? More than a month? "Yeah, and the letters on my name tag were crooked, but I never really bothered to fix them. Why are you suddenly, pointing that out?"
"I'm just saying," he said. "If you didn't become a footballer, you still would have been working at a café. We wouldn't even be out here right now!"
"You're right," Marcelle nodded. "And if I still worked at a café, you'd be dating Marcelle Vaugrenard, a waitress at a café."
"But if it weren't for the café, we wouldn't have met again after the supermarket incident." Julian felt his cheeks heating up again. The supermarket incident. "We wouldn't have connected or begin this thing between us." And Julian wouldn't have a second chance.
It's pretty amazing to think about this one thing that connected one thing to the next to create this beautiful, complex mess. This mess Julian called a relationship—a relationship that he and Marcelle both deal with on a daily basis and despite all the obstacles, still manage to have the same feelings for each other.
"You do know that, footballer or not, I'd still love you the same way I do right now," he spoke, garnering attention from her.
"Really?"
"Yeah, I mean—" he paused to clear his voice. Now you know it's going to get real. "I didn't suddenly like you because everyone knew you in France. I liked you because you didn't want to go on a date with me. Like really, really didn't want to."
Marcelle chuckled to herself. Can this boy get even more stupider? How is it that he has the path to her heart?
She tells herself all the time—he's basically the backbone of her life right now. Never in so longer had she been this happy, and she's honestly so grateful.
She loves him. To explain this is too complex to even attempt, but it only takes three words to make everything in the world seem perfect. Why can't she tell him that she loves him?
"Well then Julian, kiss me like you want to be loved."
And he does.
//
tagged
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draxlerofficial: Marcelle and her ugly ass boots
s.k23: Like for like
_almp05: Come to Barcelona
andres_dlt: u guys dating or what
kimpembe3: Mais il pleut...
marco_verratti92: That is not nice
marcellevaugrenard: what's the difference between julian and my rain boots? nothing, they're both ugly as hell