domi

On est live?

[domigoat]

Masterlist

Oneshots

(Requests are open, I can write about anyone)

Michael Olise - clingy

Michael Olise - jealousy and angst

Bradley Barcola - first encounter

Jamal Musiala - Us against the world

Guéla Doué - misconceptions and angst

Jamal Musiala - the winner takes it all

Aurélien Tchouameni (ft Suzette Carter) - Poolside tension

Take your time

Masterlist

By @domigoat

[mrs-nonchalant]

Shut Up and Drive

Summary: After finishing the fashion show that evening, You and Hugo have sex in his private limo.

Hugo Ekitike Masterlist.

‎·༻𐫱༺·

‎·༻𐫱༺·

TW: Smut

Based off the song Shut up and Drive by Rihanna- Lyrics are italicised and in bold.

‎·༻𐫱༺·

The moment the two of you stepped out of the venue the noise of the evening seemed to fade behind you. Camera shutters still clicked in the distance and a few voices called Hugo’s name as security guided you both through the crowd. He kept a gentle hand at the small of your back making sure you stayed close as you made your way towards the sleek black limousine waiting at the curb, its polished exterior gleaming beneath the city lights.

A chauffeur opened the door revealing an interior that felt more like a private lounge than a car. The tinted windows shut out the flashes from outside replacing the excitement of the red carpet with a quiet sense of calm.

The black evening dress remained as elegant as it had on the red carpet, its sleek silhouette catching the soft amber light every time the car passed beneath a streetlamp. The atmosphere at the moment felt quiet, calm, and relaxed… until you could feel a hand creeping up your thigh… Hugo.

“Hugo.” You said.

“Hm?”

“What are you doing.”

“Nothing.”

So if you feel me, let me know, know, know

“Just wanna appreciate how beautiful my girl looked tonight, she made me feel like the luckiest man on the planet.” He complimented as you blushed.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” You winked.

Come on now, what you waiting for, for, for?

He leaned in forward, your lips just about touching until he leaned in close to press a lips to your lips. You kissed him back as his hands held your cheek, pulling you more close to him as if he was afraid of letting you go.

My engine's ready to explode, explode, explode

“I’ve been dying to do that all night.” He whispered, still caressing your cheek.

“So why haven’t you?”

“Wasn’t the right time or place.”

“And now?”

“Now is perfect.”

His lips reached your neck, dragging his kisses down slowly to your collarbone, making you close your eyes, wanting you to take in this moment about how enjoyable his lips feel in your bare skin.

“Don’t make me wait babe, strip.”

You turned your back to him and held up your hair, giving him access into pulling down the zip of your sleek black dress as you easily slipped it off you like it weighed nothing leaving you in your panties and bra.

“Your turn.”

He nodded and didn’t take a moment of hesitance to strip away his clothes leaving him in knky his boxers.

“Lay down baby.” He commanded you. Your bare back pressing against the leather material of the lounge in the limousine, he leaned forward with his body pressed on top of you. With one single finger he unclasped your bra discarding it as he hooked his fingers by your panties, dragging them down as they pooled away from your legs.

“Much better.”

So start me up and watch me go, go, go, go

“Can’t wait any long baby, I need to be inside of you.”

And in one strong motion he inserted himself inside of you, your wet walls making it easier for him to enter you, as you clenched around him, the feeling of his hard cock buried inside of you.

“You feel so good already, I can feel your so wet.”

Get you where you wanna go, if you know what I mean

He continued to thrust his hard cock out of you, stretching your walls that sent a tingly sensation to your core. Sloppy and wet sounds created as your skins were slapping against each other. You could feel yourself getting more wet and wet by the second and Hugo was holding back.

“Hugo.” You moaned, your body trembled under him.

Got a ride that's smoother than a limousine

His lips pressed against your soft skin creating a trail of kisses from your neck to your collarbone and in green your breasts. His tongue made its way to your nipple, flicking his tongue against it which made you throw your head back with your mouth making an O shape.

“Baby.” You breathed, your skin now hot and sweaty.

Can you handle the curves? Can you run all the lights?

His hand traced down all over you’d body, from the curve of your breasts and down to your hips again, softly caressing your skin, feeling the smooth texture. “So soft.” He whispered.

If you can, baby boy, then we can go all night

“I wish I could do this all night.” He grunted against you. “Me and you, here, in this very limo, making you forget anything that’s not me, fucking you til your legs shake, that’s my favourite sight baby.”

'Cause I'm zero to sixty in 3.5

You suddenly felt that very familiar out in your stomach, the pit that signalled that your orgasm was close. The tip of his cock still brushing your court inside you in the most pleasurable way as possible as you continued to moan his name.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You changed. “Hugo please, let me cum I’m so close.”

“Me too baby me too.” He groaned. You felt his thrusts getting sloppier and faster which eventually sent you over the edge. Your walls clenching onto him tightly as he fucked you rough through your orgasm until he eventually came inside you. Your bodies both sweat glistening on your skin and hair sticking to your for head. Hugo leaned in for one last kiss, almost as if the kiss was an apology for being so rough.

“You good?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You nodded.

You both eventually say up, bodies naked as he held you tight, your torso pressed against his.

Baby, you got the keys

A soft chime sounded through the limousine before the driver’s voice came clearly through the built in intercom the partition between the front and back remaining firmly raised for privacy.

“Good evening,” he said politely. “I just wanted to check that everything’s alright back there?

Hugo chuckled darkly with a smirk on his face. “Everything’s good boss.” He playfully said towards the speaker.

Now shut up and drive, drive, drive

‎·༻𐫱༺·

[moulinrougemo]

neuf — # regret

michael olise x psychologist!reader

— # amongst it all masterlist

# wc: 542

# warnings: nsfw, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers, banter, arguments, alcohol, angst

# mia’s note: reqs are open. with sooo much love, mia.

s: When rising football star Michael Olise suffers a devastating knee injury just at the beginning of the season, the club makes one petition. Along with rehabilitation, Michael must work with the club's psychologist upon his return to action. The problem? They can't stand each other. As months of working pushes them together, their mutual resentment gives way to understanding, blurring the lines between professionalism and the silly thing that comes after friendship; love.

masterlist

medical room survivors 🍒

jamal

…

manuel

…

linda

…

raul

why is nobody saying anything

jamal

because if i start talking i’m gonna say something i probably shouldn’t

manuel

same

linda

he was horrible

raul

he knows.

jamal

DOES HE???

raul

yes

jamal

GOOD

because i was about five seconds away from dropkicking him into next week

manuel

i would’ve held your coffee

jamal

thank you

that’s friendship

linda

you two are focusing on the wrong thing

manuel

sorry

i would’ve held his coffee respectfully

linda

😭

manuel

there she go with that dumb shit

raul

can we please be serious for thirty seconds

jamal

i’m serious

he was an idiot

manuel

certified idiot

linda

gold medal in idiot

raul

thank you

jamal

did you SEE her face?

linda

i did.

jamal

i’ve never seen her speechless before

manuel

that’s what got me

she always has something to say

linda

she didn’t even defend herself

manuel

yes linda that’s kind of what speechless means sweetie

linda

fuck off

manuel

do you think she’s okay

linda

no.

jamal

absolutely not

raul

i’ll check on her later

jamal

good

manuel

who’s checking on michael

jamal

why would we

manuel

because he’s also an idiot

jamal

that’s a chronic condition

linda

😭😭😭

manuel

holy fuck

jamal

okay

new topic

linda

i’m scared already

jamal

how long until he realizes he messed up

manuel

he already has

jamal

nah

linda

i think he realized the second he walked away

raul

i agree

jamal

really?

raul

he didn’t finish his lunch

jamal

that’s actually a terrifyingly good point

michael and y/n got me over here agreeing with raul 😫

manuel

he NEVER leaves chips

jamal

HE LEFT THE CHIPS???

raul

half of them

linda

oh he’s suffering

manuel

the guilt must be astronomical

jamal

or the chips were bad

linda

jamal.

jamal

i’m just considering all possibilities

raul

i cannot believe i’m reading a psychological evaluation based on french fries

linda

he’s got a point though…

raul

LINDA.

linda

what?

he ALWAYS finishes them

jamal

we’ve entered stage one

manuel

what’s stage one

jamal

regret

manuel

what’s stage two

jamal

walking past her office 47 times pretending he’s looking for the physio room

raul

he knows where the physio room is

jamal

no shit

linda

😭😭😭

manuel

bro how old are you seriously

did you just get a phone

raul

stage three?

jamal

gets injured

linda

don’t even joke about that

jamal

SORRY

bad timing

linda

very bad timing

manuel

okay

new mission

jamal

revenge?

manuel

no

jamal

tiny revenge?

manuel

medium revenge

linda

MANUEL

manuel

i’m kidding 😭

see that’s when you use it

jamal

hide one boot

raul

no

jamal

move his car

raul

NO

jamal

replace his coffee with decaf

linda

okay that’s evil

manuel

too far

raul

even i wouldn’t do that

jamal

i mean that’s not surprising you never want to do anything

linda

jamal

jamal

what

linda

go apologize to Y/N for him.

jamal

i’d rather replace his coffee with decaf

raul

coward

jamal

who are you feeling like

manuel

massive coward

jamal

thanks g

linda

they’ve got a point

jamal

YOU go apologize

linda

absolutely not

i choose life

raul

you’re all useless

manuel

correct

jamal

professionally?

raul

personally.

[dixheuresdix]

Hii, cloud you write something with sad?

Can you write a story with fear where Michael cheated on the reader? There was a short break between them, now they're back together, but the reader can't trust him completely and constantly accuses her of not being able to trust him.

If you don’t want to you don’t have to :)

SECOND CHANCE;

⤷ ゛masterlist ˎˊ˗

michael olise x f!reader.

dating.

note: thanks for ur req!! angst!!!

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: michael cheated on you but you gave him a second chance even if you can't trust him completely.

it had been almost two months since you and michael had decided to try again.

everyone around you thought everything was back to normal but it wasn’t, not even close.

you smiled together in public, held hands, even kissed, but there was always the lack of trust that refused to leave, sitting between the two of you.

you hated yourself for it because you wanted to move on, to believe him every time he promised it would never happen again and to stop replaying everything in your head.

the moment you had found out, your entire world had collapsed in the space of a few seconds. some nights you still woke up hearing your own voice asking him if it was true.

you still remembered how he couldn’t even look you in the eyes and that memory refused to fade.

michael walked into the living room carrying two mugs of tea. he smiled softly when he saw you curled up on the couch.

“i made your favorite.”

you smiled back. “thank you.”

he sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders touched.

his phone vibrated on the coffee table, he glanced at the screen, picked it up, answered one message and locked it again.

it should have meant nothing but your stomach twisted anyway. without thinking, your eyes followed the phone until he placed it back down.

he noticed and his shoulders tensed almost immediately. “what?”

you looked away. “nothing.”

“don’t do that,” he sighed.

“do what?”

“look at my phone like that. you’re wondering who texted me, aren’t you?”

you swallowed. “yeah.”

“it was jamal.”

you nodded slowly, not responding verbally.

“you don’t believe me,” he said, and it wasn’t really a question.

“i’m trying.”

“trying,” he laughed, except there was nothing amused about it. “every time my phone rings.”

“i know.”

“every time i’m five minutes late.”

“i know.”

“every time i answer a message.”

“i know!” your voice cracked before you could stop it.

the room fell silent and tears immediately filled your eyes.

“i know,” you whispered. “i know i’m doing it.”

“do you think i’m cheating right now?”

you couldn’t answer because the truth was horrible, so you didn’t, but a part of you was terrified that one day you would find out you had been wrong again.

“i don’t know,” you finally answered.

michael looked down at his hands.

“i told you everything.”

“yeah.”

“i gave you every password.”

“i know.”

“i answer every question.”

“i know.”

“what else am i supposed to do?”

you finally looked at him, your face was already full of tears.

“i don’t know,” your breathing became shaky. “because i don’t want to feel like this anymore. i don’t want to wonder every time your phone lights up and i don’t want my heart to drop every time you’re late. i don’t want to hear a girl’s name and immediately think that maybe... it’s happening again.”

michael looked like every word physically hurt him.

“i hate accusing you... i hate it. but i can't do anything about it.”

“i know i did this to us.” his own voice had become unsteady, he couldn’t even look at you anymore. “i broke the one thing i promised i’d never break and keep getting frustrated because you don’t trust me,” he said quietly. “but then i remember... how can i expect you to? so i'm sorry...” he whispered.

after a long moment without talking, you reached for his hand. “i still love you.”

“that’s the worst part.”

“i still love you, but i don’t feel safe the way i used to.” you were crying.

he lowered his head. “okay. i don’t want you to force yourself to trust me,” he whispered. “if i ever earn it back, it has to happen because i deserve it again.”

you were simply two broken people sitting in the silence created by one terrible decision and both of you finally understood that saying “i’m sorry” had only been the beginning of your second chance, not the end.

dixheuresdix, like and comment <3

[dixheuresdix]

My fingers after liking every hate tweet of Argentina and Messi

HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA

[moulinrougemo]

huit — # rude

michael olise x psychologist!reader

— # amongst it all masterlist

# wc: 1k

# warnings: nsfw, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers, banter, arguments, alcohol, angst

# mia’s note: i’m so sorry for being so absent yesterday. i’m working on a few requests, part three of media duties, and many many chapters for this because i have so many ideas. as always, reqs are open and i’m always open for thoughts. with sooo much love, mia.

s: When rising football star Michael Olise suffers a devastating knee injury just at the beginning of the season, the club makes one petition. Along with rehabilitation, Michael must work with the club's psychologist upon his return to action. The problem? They can't stand each other. As months of working pushes them together, their mutual resentment gives way to understanding, blurring the lines between professionalism and the silly thing that comes after friendship; love.

masterlist

Lunch was usually the safest part of the day. Training was over, hadn’t started yet. For one hour, everyone was just people.

Football temporarily stopped existing.

The cafeteria buzzed with overlapping conversations, cutlery clinking against plates and chairs scraping across the floor as players wandered in and out in search of food.

Y/N stood near the coffee machine, waiting for it to finish brewing.

She hadn’t slept particularly well. Her mind had spent most of the night replaying the previous session with Michael. Every question she’d asked, every answer he’d avoided, every moment she wondered if she’d pushed too hard.

Maybe she had.

She sighed quietly.

“Rough morning?”

Linda appeared beside her, balancing two mugs.

Y/N smiled politely. “I’ve had worse.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I know.”

Linda studied her for another second before deciding not to press. “If you change your mind…” she gently bumped her shoulder. “…you know where to find me.”

Y/N nodded gratefully. “I do.”

Across the room, Jamal was already halfway through his lunch. Manuel sat opposite him, dramatically explaining why goalkeepers deserved their own dessert menu.

“You don’t run nearly as much as the rest of us,” Jamal argued.

“We think.”

“We think more.”

“That’s not exercise.”

“It should count.”

Raul shook his head from the end of the table.

“I’ve known you both for years, and somehow the conversations are getting dumber.”

“They’re getting refined,” Manuel corrected.

Raul looked genuinely offended. “Don’t use that word.”

The table laughed. Y/N smiled to herself. Just for a second.

Then she turned, and nearly walked straight into Michael.

He caught his tray before it tipped.

She instinctively stepped back. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Neither moved. For a brief moment, it looked as though they might simply walk around each other.

Then Y/N noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes. The way he barely touched the food on his tray.

Without thinking, she spoke. “You should probably eat.”

Michael looked at her. “I am.”

“You’ve barely got anything.”

“It’s enough.”

She hesitated. “I’ve noticed after difficult matches you usually—”

“I didn’t ask you.”

The words came quickly. Sharper than she’d expected.

She blinked. “I wasn’t criticizing you.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you talking to me like I did?”

He set his tray down on the nearest table with a little more force than necessary. “Because you never stop.”

The cafeteria grew quieter. Not silent. Quieter.

Y/N lowered her voice. “I was asking if you’d eaten.”

“No, you weren’t. You were observing.”

“I’m allowed to care about the people I work with.”

“There,” he let out a dry laugh. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

She frowned. “What?”

“You always hide behind that.”

“My job?”

“Your concern,” his eyes met hers. “You don’t know when to leave people alone.”

Across the room, Jamal stopped chewing. Manuel looked up. Linda slowly placed her mug on the table.

No one interrupted. Not yet.

Y/N swallowed. “If I’ve overstepped, you could’ve just told me.”

“I have.”

“Michael—”

“I’ve told you a hundred different ways.”

His voice wasn’t loud. That somehow made it worse.

“I don’t need someone watching how much I eat. I don’t need someone analyzing every sentence I say. I don’t need someone deciding what every little habit means.”

She felt dozens of eyes drifting toward them.

She hated that. Not because she cared what people thought. But because she knew he’d hate it even more.

She lowered her voice again. “We don’t have to do this here.”

“No. We probably should.”

A beat.

“I’m tired of pretending.”

Her stomach sank. “Pretending what?”

“That this…” he gestured vaguely between them. “…is helping anyone.”

Silence.

She looked at him carefully. “You really believe that.”

“I know that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No?” his expression hardened. “Then tell me,” he took a small step closer. “What exactly have you helped me with?”

She opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

He waited.

“So?”

She searched for an answer. One that didn’t sound defensive, one that wasn’t about progress measured in small moments.

One that he might actually hear.

She couldn’t find it.

Michael gave a quiet, humorless smile. “That’s what I thought.”

Jamal stood up. “Michael, you’re going too far.”

His tone was careful.

Michael didn’t even look at him.

“No. I should’ve said this sooner.”

Jamal glanced at Y/N, then back at Michael. “Mate—”

Michael looked back at Y/N. “You know what I think?”

She wished he wouldn’t continue.

He did anyway. “I think you’re good at making people feel like projects.”

The words landed like something heavy dropped into still water.

“I think you convince yourself you’re helping because that’s easier than admitting…”

He paused.

“…that maybe you’re just asking questions no one wanted answered.”

She stared at him.

“I’ve spent my whole life around people who actually understand pressure,. his voice remained calm. “So believe me when I say: if this is what psychology looks like…” he picked up his tray again. “…I’m not sure you’re very good at it.”

Nobody spoke.

Not Jamal. Not Manuel. Not Linda. Not even Raul.

Because even though Michael had surprised them many times before, this was something nobody had expected.

The silence that followed felt louder than the argument itself.

Michael looked at her for one second longer.

Something flickered across his face.

Regret, maybe. It disappeared before either of them could be certain.

He walked away.

The cafeteria doors swung shut behind him.

Y/N remained exactly where she was.

She realized, vaguely, that she was still holding her coffee. Her hand had begun to shake. A small ripple spread across the surface.

She stared at it. As though focusing on the tiny circles might keep her from noticing the knot growing painfully tight in her throat.

Linda took one hesitant step forward.

“Y/N…”

She smiled.

Or tried to. It barely resembled one. “I’m okay.”

Her own voice sounded unfamiliar. Thin. She reached for her tray, her fingers slipped against the edge.

Manuel caught it before it hit the floor. Neither of them spoke. He simply handed it back. His usual grin was gone.

Jamal looked toward the door Michael had disappeared through and quietly muttered, “Idiot.”

Y/N heard him.

She wanted to agree. But, instead, she looked down at the untouched lunch in front of her.

She wasn’t wondering how to help Michael.

She was wondering whether he’d been right.

[dixheuresdix]

Heyy can you do one with olise where she is drunk and a he is taking care of her

DRUNK;

⤷ ゛masterlist ˎˊ˗

michael olise x f!reader.

dating.

note: thanks for ur req!

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you're drunk and michael is taking care of you.

“i’m not drunk.”

“baby...”

“what?”

“you’re sitting on the floor.”

you looked around. “am i?”

“yes,” he crouched down in front of you. “come on.”

“where are we going?” you frowned.

“home.”

“i like home,” you smiled.

he gently took the glass from your hand before helping you stand and the second you were on your feet, you immediately leaned your full weight against him.

“someone forgot how to walk.”

“walking is difficult.”

“is it?”

you nodded very seriously. “the floor keeps moving.”

“i think that’s just you.”

“no.”

he wrapped an arm around your waist before guiding you toward the exit, you waved enthusiastically at people you barely knew.

“byeeeeee.”

outside, the cool night air immediately hit your face.

“it’s freezing,” you gasped.

“it’s twenty degrees.”

“yes, freezing.”

“here,” he smiled before taking off his hoodie anyway.

he slipped it over your head, the sleeves completely covered your hands. you buried your nose in it.

“you smell nice.”

“thank you,” he smiled.

“you always smell nice.”

“you’re cute.”

you looked offended. “huh? i’m intimidating.”

“sure.”

he opened the car door for you but instead of getting in, you hugged the door.

“what are you doing?”

“she’s nice.”

“the car door?”

you nodded. “she works hard.”

“she does.”

“tell her.”

“i’ll tell her later.”

“promise?”

“promise.”

“okay.”

you finally got into the car and the drive home lasted barely fifteen minutes. during those fifteen minutes, you managed to tell him three completely different stories. he listened to every single one even when they stopped making sense halfway through and when you finally reached the apartment, he helped you upstairs.

the moment you walked inside, you immediately kicked your shoes off, one landed near the sofa.

“impressive.”

“thank you.”

he laughed before disappearing into the kitchen and when he came back, he was holding a glass of water.

“drink.”

you made a face. “don’t wanna.”

“yes you do.”

“it tastes boring.”

“you’re going to thank me tomorrow.”

you sighed before taking the glass.

“it’s actually good.”

he smiled and you finished the whole thing before handing it back to him.

“good job.”

“can i have fries now?”

“it’s one in the morning.”

“so?”

“we’ll order fries tomorrow.”

you pouted. “you’re breaking my heart.”

“you’ll survive,” he kissed your forehead.

while he was putting the glass away, he heard your voice from the living room.

“michael?”

“yeah?”

“i don’t feel good.”

he was beside you instantly and your face had gone from sleepy to miserable in seconds.

“my stomach.”

he immediately understood and gently helped you up before walking you to the bathroom.

he stayed beside you the entire time, holding your hair back with one hand while rubbing slow circles across your back with the other. when you finally leaned back against the wall after vomiting, you looked completely embarrassed.

“i’m sorry, that’s gross.”

“there is nothing you could do tonight that would make me love you any less.”

your eyes became watery. “thank you.”

“always,” he smiled.

once you had brushed your teeth and changed into one of his oversized t-shirts, he tucked you into bed.

you were already half asleep before he had even pulled the blanket over you and sat beside you for a moment, brushing your hair away from your face.

“how are you feeling?”

“good,” you giggled then reached for his hand. “stay?”

“of course.”

he climbed into bed beside you and the second he did, you curled against his chest with a happy little sigh. he wrapped both arms around you, gently kissing the top of your head.

a minute passed then you looked up.

“michael?”

“yeah?”

“you’re really pretty.”

“thank you,” he smiled.

“really pretty.”

“you’re saying that because you’re drunk.”

“no,” you poked his cheek. “i’m saying it because i have eyes.”

you smiled sleepily before closing your eyes again.

“love you.”

“love you too,” he kissed your forehead one last time.

dixheuresdix, like and comment <3

[domigoat]

pinterest.com/pin/950259590138629090

crying bc this is exactly how i imagine michael would be as a dad 😭

This is so cute but I don't know the picture kinda gives uncle and niece...

[corneredarteries]

Drunk Thoughts

Pairing : Michael Olise X Reader

Summary : He breaks no contact drunk

Details : This is a request in addition to the poll

You and Michael were together, you loved each other, the way you understood one another was priceless.

However, when he signed with Bayern Munich and moved to Germany everything went downhill.

Michael grew popular, facing major challenges in his career, work became more and more demanding and you couldn’t be there for him. So it seemed to Michael that you didn’t care enough.

You argued that you cared just like before and you had your own career to pursue too.

That was the breaking point, each person follows their path and you became exes on a Thursday night.

As international break approached, Michael booked his tickets to come back to his family. After spending a long week with his family, he gets a call from ebs, his best mate, also a footballer on break. They agree to meet up at some club, have a drink, chat and spend some time having fun.

2:09 AM, you’re sat on your sofa, half-asleep, dedicated to finish your series tonight. Your eyes open wide as your phone rings on the table in front of you. Immediately you grab the remote pausing the scene on the tv, Unknown Number plastered across the screen.

You pressed answer hesitantly, after a few rings.

“Hello, who is this?” You asked

“Baby it’s me” a drunk voice said from the other side of the line. You can hear music and shatter. It terrified you honestly. You remained silent questioning your next move.

“Baby why aren’t answering me? Are you mad at me? I know you don’t like me going out to clubs but the guys invited me” somewhere across these words you recognized the voice. But is it Michael? It can’t be.

“Michael?”

“Yes my love your Michael” he confirmed drunkly. Tears flooded your eyes, your heartbeat quickening.

“Where are you?” You managed to say through tears.

“That one bar with the weird red sign, you know it right? It’s where we once had an argument” so many thoughts and uncertainty. How can he remember that much if he’s drunk? Why is he calling me now?

“Okay Michael wait for me there” you cut the line, grabbing your keys, powering the engine, reversing out of the driveway. Few minutes later, you’re parking at the bar’s entrance, but there’s a crowd.

You get out of the car, searching for Michael, tears never left your cheeks, hands shaking, your gaze falls on his figure sat against the wall, on the floor mumbling something to his friend.

“She told me she’s coming, I told you she loves me” you hear him as you step closer

“Come on, we have to go” you tell him

Once his eyes reach your face, his face lights up, attempting to stand up.

You help him, along with his friends as you combine your efforts to get him in the car, managing through people because they knew it was Michael Olise and wouldn’t leave him alone.

You ran to the driver’s seat after thanking the guys and sped away.

“Oh God I missed your scent” he started.

“Your eyes, the way you walked to me, your voice” He continued

“Stay with me please” he demanded

“Baby answer me please” he turned his eyesight to you.

“Michael you’re drunk”

“I still love you even when I’m drunk” he laughed.

You parked the car and got out

“Alright let’s get you inside” you said opening his door

“We’re home?” He asked

“Yes we are” you answered

“Oh so now we can cuddle?” He tried stepping out the car

“For now let’s make it inside” you pulled his arm over your neck and supported him by his waist as you walked towards the door.

Once inside, you set him on the sofa, you turn to grab water for the both of you but Michael pulls you on his lap.

“Where are you going? You promised me cuddles” he whines, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You sit in his grip, the smell of alcohol hitting your nostrils, shocked by his behavior.

You turn to face him, only to find him asleep and so you slept there all night.

Author’s Note : I’m not sure how well I did🙂 I hope you enjoyed it🤞

[mrs-nonchalant]

Teething

William Saliba x Reader

Summary: Your daughter is teething and the only way to soothe it is by her chomping on Wilo’s bicep.

William Saliba Masterlist

‎·༻𐫱༺·

‎·༻𐫱༺·

Alaia’s been fussy all afternoon with tiny whimpers and frustrated cries coming out of her mouth and drool spilling everywhere form her, you already know what’s happening here: “teething.” You sigh sympathetically. She’s rubbing her gums with her fist her eyes watery and clearly uncomfortable.

Wilo sits down on the sofa and takes her from you without hesitation. “C’mere princess.” She melts into him instantly resting against his chest while he rubs slow circles on her back. “It’s okay my baby,” he murmurs softly rocking her slightly. “It’ll be okay yeah? Papa’s got you.”

You lean against the armrest watching them heart absolutely gone at the sight of your husband being so gentle and caring for your daughter.

She sniffles still a bit grumpy and then while resting against his arm she turns her little head…

…and chomps down on his bicep.

He freezes.“…HEY!!”

You burst out laughing as little Alaia pauses for a second then does it again like she’s on full teething mode with her little gums just working away on his arm like it’s a chew toy. He looks down at her mock offended. “Excuse me? I am not a teething ring Madame!” She giggles all drool and proud.

You’re laughing properly now. “See? She likes it.”

He flexes slightly trying to gently wiggle his arm free. “She’s strong!” Alaia lets out another happy little sound and goes back in for another chew. He looks at you with a smirk. “Mother like daughter.”

Your jaw drops. “Oh shut up.” You playfully slapped the free arm Alaia wasn’t chewing on.

Wilo grins wider. “You’re the one who bites.”

“That was one time.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You narrow your eyes. “Okay okay fine maybe few times...” as you thee your hands in the air and accepted defeat.

He chuckles and kisses Alaia’s head gently. “Guess it runs in the family.”

You walk over and lightly swat his shoulder. “Don’t blame me for her teething crimes.”

He laughs and pulls you closer with his free arm so now you’re both wrapped around her. Alaia settles down eventually still resting her head against his arm like it’s the most comforting thing in the world. He sighs dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m being bullied in my own house by two girls.”

You smile leaning into him. “And you love it.”

He looks at the two of you with one drooly baby in one arm and one smug wife in the other shaking his head affectionately. “…Yeah,” he admits softly. “I really do.”

‎·༻𐫱༺·

[mrs-nonchalant]

First Date

Eternal Flame One Shots

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

The case had been over for a lot a month with no more courtrooms it legal documents scattered across her desk or no more late night strategy meetings or carefully maintained professional boundaries. Life had settled into something quieter and something normal but somehow Michael Olise looked more nervous tonight than he had during the entire trial.

Y/N stood in front of her mirror one last time, smoothing down the fabric of her black dress.

It was elegant without being extravagant and it was simple and timeless, the kind of dress that made her feel confident with her silver Jewllery adorned to her skin.

When the doorbell rang she grabbed her purse and headed downstairs. Opening the door, she found Michael standing on the doorstep. He wore a dark blazer over a simple black shirt, the top button undone and his usual effortless style somehow looking far more formal than she’d ever seen before.

And yet…he looked completely frozen.

His eyes met hers and then immediately looked away and then back again.

“Hi,” she said, smiling.

“Hi.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

“Definitely?”

He cleared his throat. “Yep.” Popping the P.

Y/N folded her arms. “Michael you’ve played Champions League semi finals in front of eighty thousand people, why do you look more terrified standing on my doorstep?”

He let out a small laugh rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t know.”

But they both knew.

The entire drive to the restaurant was filled with a strange kind of excitement, it wasn’t weird or uncomfortable or anything, suppose it just felt… new to them. For months they’d meet in offices, coffee shops or quiet parks always with a purpose and case file somewhere nearby, but tonight there was nothing to hide behind. There was no professionalism in this setting or excuses, just the two of them of a quiet date in the evening.

The restaurant itself was gorgeous, quiet too. Michael of course being a professional football player and was wealthy enough to book the restaurant to himself, the place was quiet, private even, just how he preferred it.

Michael pulled her chair out for her. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “No problem.”

Then nearly sat down before realising he’d forgotten to sit in his own chair, Y/N bit back a smile.

The waiter arrived as they ordered their drinks. The pair had then opened the menu, scanning for which delicious delicacies are seating for them. Michael usually who is usually so composed somehow managed to stumble over the pronunciation of something he’d definitely ordered before.

She couldn’t hold it in anymore, she could tell he was nervous. Leaning her chin against her hand she looked at him with amusement dancing in her eyes. “We’ve had dozens of consultations together.”

Michael looked up. “Hm?”

“We’ve spent hours talking.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“You’ve sat across from me in court preparation meetings without a problem.”

Another nod. “So…?”

Her smile widened. “Why do you seem nervous talking to me tonight?”

The tips of his ears and his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “Oh.”

A laugh escaped her. “Oh?”

He looked down at the tablecloth. “It’s just…”His fingers tapped against the menu. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Like what?”

The answer came before he could stop himself. “So beautiful.”

Silence as she juts started at him blankly. His eyes widened. “Oh.” Y/N’s smile softened.

Michael immediately continued.

“Not that you aren’t always beautiful!” His hands appeared as though trying to physically catch the words he’d just thrown into the universe. “You always are- I mean, obviously you always are-“ He shut his eyes.“Oh putain.” He muttered under his breath shaking his head.

Y/N burst into laughte like actual genuine laughter the kind of laughter that made her shoulders shake as she put her hand over her mouth and squinted her eyes.

Michael buried his face in his hands. “This is awful.”

“No no,” she managed between giggles. “Please keep going.”

“I’d rather not.”

She reached across the table gently moving one of his hands away from his face and holding his hands. “Michael.”

He looked at her, the embarrassment was almost endearing.

“I think,” she said softly, “that’s the most you’ve ever spoken in one go, and it’s so cute.”

He groaned. “Can we pretend that didn’t happen?”

“Absolutely not.”

A smile tugged at his lips despite himself as the tension slowly melted away once dinner had arrived. Conversations became more easier and natural as they basically talked about anything in life that had nothing to do with cases, but realistically they more or less already knew a lot about each other from talking in previous consultations like childhood, careers, ambitions, places they wanted to visits, hobbies. She learnt that Michael had always preferred quiet evenings over big parties; learnt that she’d once considered becoming a history teacher before law school.

Y/N took a sip of her drink and smiled.

“You know,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous before.”

Michael looked at her thoughtfully. “That’s because I’ve never had a first date before.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “What?”

He shrugged. “Not a proper one.” The confession was so matte of fact that it took a second to process.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Michael Olise has never been on a proper date?”

“No.”

“And I’m your first?”

A small smile appeared. “Yeah.”

Warmth spread through her chest and all of a the nervousness made sense. The stumbling he made, the awkward compliments. You had send some interviews or award speeches where he would do this, which was understandable because that was towards the public, but at the moment it was just you in his view.

The way he kept looking at her as though he still couldn’t quite believe she was sitting there and It wasn’t because he didn’t know how to talk to her but It was because for the first time he cared about saying the right things.

She reached across the table resting her hand over his. “Then,” she said gently, “I think you’re doing pretty well.”

His shoulders relaxed and a quiet laugh escaped him. “Even after that disaster at the beginning?”

“Oh especially after that.”

And for the first time since they had met, there were no titles between them there was no titles of lawyers or clients or any cases two solve, just a man on his first date and

a woman who found his nervousness far more charming than she’d ever admit out loud.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

[berrygloomz]

CHAMPION

۶ৎ pairing : Michael Olise x Journalist!reader

۶ৎ summary : Michael couldn’t contain himself after winning the world cup

۶ৎ content : fluff, kissing, secret relationship

۶ৎ author : had fun writing this short imagine based on this tiktok i saw. this is not proofread either so don’t mind my mistakes, ENJOY!!!

The final whistle blew. France had just won the world cup.

You were jumping and screaming behind the scenes, watching the whole team celebrate, and your boyfriend drop to his knees. Michael wasn’t really expressive, and seeing the big smile on his face overwhelmed you with joy.

Everyone was running around, crowd was going absolutely wild, some players were jumping, some crying, some praying. Everyone had their own ways of celebrating, but your eyes were always on him.

His blue scrunchie coming off as the relief came in. His long longs falling on his head, his smile never coming down. He was a world champion.

You’ve never been so proud, but also sad you couldn’t be with him as you were preparing for the post match interviews. You kept your relationship with Michael private, meaning you couldn’t really be with him or celebrate with him, for now.

As the celebration continued, the players lifted the trophy, and they quickly went on to dance and play with the trophy in the changing rooms.

You couldn’t wait to see Michael, hold him, tell him how proud of him you were. But it had to wait until you got home, until the whole world died down and it was only the two of you left.

As the first players started leaving and coming in for the interviews, one familiar face appeared and started walking towards you.

You were a bit surprised as you weren’t supposed to be the one interviewing him, but you tried to stay professional and composed.

He walked up to you, smiling, still kind of out of breath, his heart beating fast, adrenaline pumping.

You held up your microphone

“Tell me Michael, how are you feeling?”

His name rolling sweetly out of your mouth, making him smile even more.

”Well its such a wonderful moment, i’m very happy”

You couldn’t stop smiling, seeing him this happy and emotional. He continued

”I think we’ve earned it from start to finish, and i want to thank…”

He paused, you both knew, you also knew he couldn’t

”…The people who have always supported me. My parents, my friends…”

He stopped, smirking, trying to hold it in. He pinched his nose, looking away, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold it in if he even saw your eyes.

So you interrupted him

”It’s okay”

You tried to stay composed, brushing your hair behind your ear

”Let’s talk about the match and then we’ll come back to it”

Then he finally looked at you again, really looked at you. Your beautiful eyes, the blue white and red paint smudging on your cheeks, your bright smile flashing. That’s when he finally lost it.

”And you too”

He finally grabbed your face, lips smashing quickly against yours. One arm around your neck and the other grabbing your face. He was struck.

You leaned in, accepting the situation. This ment no more hiding, no more leaving in separate cars, no more acting like you were strangers.

He let go, remembering where you were, but still kissing your cheek before saying

”I’m leaving”

And quickly running off.

You were left there, on your own, completely flustered as people around you were cheering and whistling.

[moulinrougemo]

sept — # silence

michael olise x psychologist!reader

— # amongst it all masterlist

# wc: 708

# warnings: nsfw, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers, banter, arguments, alcohol

# mia’s note: reqs are open. with sooo much love, mia.

s: When rising football star Michael Olise suffers a devastating knee injury just at the beginning of the season, the club makes one petition. Along with rehabilitation, Michael must work with the club's psychologist upon his return to action. The problem? They can't stand each other. As months of working pushes them together, their mutual resentment gives way to understanding, blurring the lines between professionalism and the silly thing that comes after friendship; love.

masterlist

The first thing everyone noticed wasn’t that Michael and Y/N had stopped arguing. It was the silence.

Training mornings at the club had developed a rhythm over the past few weeks. Jamal would arrive with a coffee he definitely wasn’t supposed to have, Manuel would complain about goalkeepers being under appreciated, Linda would remind everyone to drink water, Raul would insist nobody needed treatment before they’d even started training.

And, somewhere in between, Michael and Y/N would inevitably find something to disagree about.

It had become so routine that nobody thought about it anymore.

Until it didn’t happen.

Y/N arrived just before eight.

“Morning,” she greeted as she walked past the medical room.

“Morning,” Linda answered.

Jamal looked over her shoulder. “He’s already outside.”

Y/N nodded. “I know.”

And kept walking.

No sarcastic comment. No eye roll. No “Tell him coffee isn’t hydration.”

Nothing.

Jamal frowned. “That was odd.”

“Maybe she didn’t see him,” Manuel offered.

Jamal looked at him as though he’d suggested the moon was made of cheese. “She absolutely saw him.”

Across the pitch, Michael was helping set up for the next drill.

He noticed her walking toward the coaches.

Normally, she’d say something. Usually something mildly insulting. Something about the cones. Or the coffee. Or the fact he’d somehow found a way to avoid stretching.

Instead she walked past him.

“Morning.”

He looked up. “Morning.”

That was it.

No follow-up. No argument.

No one spoke for several seconds.

The assistant coach blew his whistle and players drifted into position.

Training started.

Jamal slowly turned toward Manuel. “I’m uncomfortable.”

“I thought it was just me.”

Raul watched Michael receive a pass before glancing toward Y/N on the touchline.

Neither of them looked at the other. Almost as if they were trying not to. That was somehow stranger than the arguing.

Half an hour later, training paused for water. Usually this was prime territory.

Michael reached for a bottle.

Y/N happened to walk by.

The four of them subtly stopped what they were doing.

Waiting.

Nothing.

She picked up her clipboard.

He drank his water.

She continued walking.

He put the bottle back.

Silence.

Linda whispered. “No way.”

“What?” Jamal whispered back.

“They’re avoiding each other.”

“They’ve never avoided each other.”

“They literally sought each other out just to argue.”

Raul. crossed his arms. “I don’t like this.”

Manuel nodded gravely. “This feels unhealthy.”

Jamal looked horrified. “Do you think we broke them?”

“No,” Linda said.

“They did something far more dangerous.”

“What?”

“They talked.”

Jamal blinked. “Properly?”

She nodded once. “They’re thinking.”

Manuel visibly shuddered. “Ew.”

The rest of training passed with the same strange distance. Every now and then, Michael caught himself looking toward the touchline.

Not at Y/N.

Just toward where she happened to be standing.

That’s what he told himself.

Every time, he redirected his attention before it lingered.

Across the pitch, Y/N found herself making the same mistake. Twice she almost walked over to correct a drill setup.

Twice she stopped halfway.

Leave him alone.

It was easier this way. Wasn’t it? She wasn’t sure anymore.

She just knew she was tired. Tired of pushing. Tired of trying to understand someone determined not to be understood.

If he wanted distance, she could give him distance.

Michael wasn’t sure why the silence bothered him. It shouldn’t have. This was what he’d wanted.

No questions. No observations. No conversations that somehow left him thinking about them hours later.

So why did the morning feel incomplete?

He frowned at himself.

Ridiculous. He was annoyed because someone had stopped annoying him.

That made absolutely no sense.

The final whistle ended training and the players headed toward the building.

Y/N stepped aside to let them pass.

Michael was among the last.

They reached the doorway at the same time.

For a fraction of a second, they both hesitated.

“You first,” she said.

He gave a small nod.

“Thanks.”

He walked inside. She followed a moment later.

Neither of them looked back.

Behind them, Jamal watched the entire exchange with the expression of a man witnessing a national emergency.

“…No.”

Manuel sighed. “They’ve become polite.”

Linda looked genuinely distressed. “I preferred when they were arguing.”

“So did I,” Raul admitted quietly.

“At least then they were talking.”

[starisnepo]

words left unspoken (2)

masterlist

angst

jamal musiala x female reader

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

part one

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘he said he’s single.’

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

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

‘good morning’

ignored.

‘hope you’re okay.’

ignored.

by the evening you could tell he was frustrated.

‘have i done something?’

but you ignored that message aswell.

tge messages continued through the week.

‘please answer me’

‘i’m worried’

‘can you just tell me you’re safe’

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

jamal’s rehab quickly fell apart and everyone noticed.

“you look exhausted.” they would say.

“i am.” he would reply.

“are you sleeping?”

“no.”

“eating?”

“not really.”

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

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

“you saw them?”

“well, they’re everywhere.”

he stared at the floor, finally understanding.

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

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

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

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

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

you did not reply.

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

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

“you kissed them.”

jamal closed his eyes.

“…yeah.”

“you kissed all of them.”

“…yeah.”

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

“i won’t.”

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

“i did.”

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

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

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

you laughed bitterly in disbelief.

“great strategy.”

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

“you hurt me.”

“i know.”

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

“you called me your bestfriend.”

“so did you.”

“i know.” you spoke carefully

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

“so did i.” you admitted.

“i got tired of hoping.”

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

he hung his head, shame filling his soul.

“i wanted to prove i could move on.”

“could you?” you asked.

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

“and the second?”

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

“the third…”

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

you stared at him through blurred vision.

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

jamal’s face crumpled.

“i love you too.”

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

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

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

“i’m not ready to forgive you.”

“i know.” he nodded.

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

he didn’t hesitate.

“i won’t.”

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

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

[dixheuresdix]

omg you need to write an olise one where after the Paraguay and French team he came to see his girlfriend in the stands

he was still a bit mad because of the game, his girlfriend congratulated them on winning but also teased him that he looked so good when he was angry, it was just doing things to her and he laughed not taking her seriously because he knows she was half serious half joking something like that

YELLOW CARD;

⤷ ゛masterlist ˎˊ˗

michael olise x f!reader.

dating.

note: thanks for ur req 😋

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: michael received a yellow card during the france-paraguay game and you tease him about it.

france had won, the whole team made their way toward the stands where their families and friends were waiting.

michael was smiling too when he saw you with his parents but you could still tell he was annoyed.

you had seen him lose his patience, grabing the paraguayan player’s shirt before the referee immediately reached for the yellow card.

he kept insisting he had barely touched him, and it was true. a complete useless yellow card.

when he finally reached you, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“congratulations.”

“thank you,” he smiled properly this time.

you kissed his cheek. “you played really well.”

“could’ve been better, this guy was getting on my nerves the whole game.”

“and you grabbed his shirt,” you smiled.

“he deserved it,” he murmured.

you laughed.

“don’t laugh!”

“i’m trying.”

“whatever.”

you looked at him for a second, his cheeks were still slightly flushed from the match. he had removed the elastic that gathered his locks.

there was still that competitive fire in his eyes that hadn’t completely disappeared since the final whistle.

you bit the inside of your cheek, looking at him.

“...what?” he frowned.

you smiled. “nothing.”

“you’re looking at me weird,” he narrowed his eyes.

“you looked really good out there. i mean...” you tried to hide your smile. “when you got angry.”

he stared at you then frowned, offended.

“i’m just saying...” you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep a straight face. “it kind of did something.”

“you’re joking.” he looked horrified.

“half, the other half is unfortunately very serious.”

he covered his face for a second, embarrassed. “you’re unbelievable.”

“i’m being honest.”

“you watched me getting angry and your first thought was...” he imitated your voice. “‘wow, he looks good when he’s mad.’”

you smiled shamelessly. “pretty much.”

he shook his head in disbelief.

“the way you grabbed his shirt was sexy.”

“don’t encourage bad behavior.”

“i'm not, i’m just appreciating the view.”

he smiled before wrapping an arm around your waist.

“you’re ridiculous.”

you kissed the corner of his mouth. “but am i wrong?”

“no,” he rested his forehead against yours for a brief moment.

“i’d rather impress you with goals than yellow cards, though.”

“good,” you stole one more quick kiss. “but the yellow card was still kind of attractive.”

dixheuresdix, like and comment <3

[moulinrougemo]

six — # the session

michael olise x psychologist!reader

— # amongst it all masterlist

# wc: 1.3k

# warnings: nsfw, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers, banter, arguments, alcohol

# mia's note: idk if i should post more today. let me know if you’d want more. reqs are open. with sooo much love, mia.

s: When rising football star Michael Olise suffers a devastating knee injury just at the beginning of the season, the club makes one petition. Along with rehabilitation, Michael must work with the club's psychologist upon his return to action. The problem? They can't stand each other. As months of working pushes them together, their mutual resentment gives way to understanding, blurring the lines between professionalism and the silly thing that comes after friendship; love.

masterlist

Michael didn’t knock.

The handle turned, the door cracked open, and he stepped inside without so much as glancing in her direction.

Y/N looked up from the mug warming her hands. “You’re early.”

He shut the door behind him. “I was told punctuality builds trust.”

His tone was so dry she couldn’t tell if he was joking.

She smiled anyway. “Who told you that?”

“Raul.”

She nodded to herself. “I’ll have to thank him.”

“You’ll have to stop listening to him,” he dropped into the chair opposite hers with all the enthusiasm of someone sitting in a dentist’s waiting room. His elbows rested on his knees, fingers laced together, eyes wandering everywhere except her face.

She noticed immediately.

The window. The bookshelf. The framed club photo. The clock.

Anything but her.

He was cataloguing exits. Not consciously, perhaps. But he was.

She resisted the urge to say it out loud. Instead, she quietly slid the empty legal pad off her desk and placed it in the drawer beside her.

He noticed.

His eyes flicked toward the drawer, then back to her. “You actually put it away.”

“You sounded pretty serious.”

“I was.”

“I know.”

A beat passed.

“You trust me already?”

He almost smiled.

Almost.

“No.”

“Good.”

He studied her then, properly this time.

It lasted barely two seconds before he looked away again.

The room settled into silence. Not awkward, just unfamiliar.

Y/N had learned very quickly that Michael hated silence because silence meant there was nowhere to hide. Most people rushed to fill it.

She wouldn’t.

Eventually, he exhaled.

“So?”

“So?”

“You usually ask questions.”

“I do.”

“You’ve been quiet.”

“I was waiting.”

“For what?”

“For you to stop looking for ways out of the room.”

His head turned slowly. “I’m sitting down.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t.”

“I haven’t moved.”

“No.”

She tilted her head slightly. “But you’ve looked at the door three times.”

He frowned. “I have not.”

“You have.”

“No.”

“You just did it again.”

His eyes instinctively darted toward the door.

He caught himself halfway there. “That doesn’t count.”

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. It wasn’t loud, just enough to make the corners of her eyes crease.

Michael stared. “What?”

“I got you.”

“You manipulated the situation.”

“I asked you a question.”

“You tricked me.”

“I observed you.”

He sighed dramatically. “I already regret coming.”

She smiled to herself.

That’s twice you’ve said that, she thought.

And yet you’re still here.

She folded one leg beneath the other. “Tell me something.”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

“I’ve developed instincts.”

She hummed.

“What makes you happy?”

Michael blinked. “Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s your question?”

“It’s today’s question.”

He leaned back. “I score.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean that’s what you do.”

“It makes me happy.”

“For ninety minutes.”

He looked unconvinced. “Sometimes longer.”

“And when football ends?”

“It hasn’t.”

“It will.”

His jaw shifted.

There it was. The first crack. Not visible to anyone who didn’t know what they were looking for.

But Y/N had begun to notice it. Every time football stopped being today and became the future, something in him shut.

“I don’t think about that.”

“I know.”

“Then why ask?”

“Because not thinking about something doesn’t stop it existing.”

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I’ve had enough people asking me what I’ll do when I retire.”

“I’m not asking that.”

“It sounds like it.”

“I’m asking who Michael is without football.”

Silence. A long one. Outside, whistles echoed faintly across the training ground.

Someone shouted. A ball hit the side of the building. Life carried on.

Inside…

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I don’t know.”

The honesty surprised both of them.

She saw it happen. His own answer caught him off guard. He frowned at the carpet as if he’d rather pull the words back into his mouth.

Y/N didn’t rush in. Didn’t reassure him. Didn’t tell him it was okay. She simply nodded.

“Thank you.”

His eyes lifted. “For what?”

“For answering.”

“It wasn’t a good answer.”

“It was an honest one.”

He scoffed quietly. “You don’t know that.”

“I think you do.”

His fingers started tapping against the armrest. A quick rhythm.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Without thinking, she mirrored it against her own knee.

He looked up. “You do that.”

“What?”

“The tapping.”

She glanced down. Realized she’d matched him without noticing.

“I suppose I do.”

He shook his head once. “That’s annoying.”

“What is?”

“You notice everything.”

“I don’t.”

“You noticed.”

“I pay attention.”

“Same thing.”

“It’s really not.”

She let the conversation drift for a moment before speaking again.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“You were going to anyway.”

“I appreciate your permission.”

“I didn’t—”

“I know.”

His shoulders loosened almost imperceptibly. He hated it when she turned his sarcasm back on him, mostly because she was getting better at it.

“Were your parents supportive?”

His body stilled.

Not dramatically. Just enough.

The tapping stopped. His shoulders squared. His expression flattened.

Y/N felt it immediately. Like stepping on thin ice and hearing it crack beneath her feet.

Too close. Too fast.

She softened her voice.

“You don’t have to answer.”

“I know.”

Another silence.

Longer this time.

He looked out the window instead of at her.

“Yes they did.”

His voice was quieter now.

“I guess now I look back and… I don’t know.”

She listened.

“Maybe I could’ve been more grateful.”

He gave a humourless laugh. “I still could be. But, I don’t know. It’s so weird. I can’t control it.”

Y/N’s chest tightened. Not because of what he’d said.

Because of how casually he’d said it. Like he’d been carrying the sentence for years. Like it had become ordinary.

His words hung between them.

He realised what he’d admitted, and his head turned sharply toward her.

There it was again.

Regret. The walls going back up brick by brick.

“You see?”

His voice hardened. “This.”

Y/N frowned. “What?”

“I answer one question…” he gestured vaguely between them. “…and now you’re looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ve figured me out.”

“I haven’t.”

“You think you have.”

“I don’t.”

“You pity me.”

The word landed harder than she expected.

“I don’t pity you.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

He stood so abruptly that the chair legs scraped across the floor. The sound made both of them flinch.

“I’ve seen that look before.”

She stood too. “Michael.”

“No.”

“You don’t get to decide how I see you.”

“And you don’t get to decide who I am because of one story.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“You were about to.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were going to tell me my relationship with my parents explains everything.”

She stared at him. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

“No.”

“I know how this works,” he laughed bitterly. “I’ve lived through it.”

Y/N felt frustration rising in her chest. Not because he was leaving, but he had already decided what she believed before she’d even had the chance to believe it.

“You know what?” she said, crossing her arms. “You spend so much energy assuming everyone is trying to analyze you that you never actually listen to what they’re saying.”

His jaw tightened. “I listen.”

“No, you prepare your defense before anyone finishes the sentence.”

He looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Then he reached for the door. “I think we’re done.”

She watched him wrap his hand around the handle.

Something in her snapped. Not loudly. Not angrily.

“You’re exhausting, you know that?”

He froze, but didn’t turn around.

“You push people away…” her voice was calm now. “…and then act surprised when nobody stays.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

For one impossible second, she thought he might come back.

Instead, his shoulders stiffened. “You don’t know me.”

The words were almost a whisper. Not defensive anymore. Just tired.

He opened the door. “And that’s exactly how I’d like to keep it.”

The door closed.

Y/N stood alone in the quiet office, her pulse still racing. She looked at the empty chair he’d occupied for the last hour.

She’d wanted progress. Instead, she’d found a wall. And somehow, it felt thicker than when he’d first walked in.

[vandevens]

jealous type ;;

fem!reader x michael olise (france)

where michael gets jealous of the way désiré talks to you.

day 12 of my world cup 2026 series ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

recovery day rolled around again. this time, michael, désiré, kylian, rayan and mateta invited you along to a little cafe hangout.

des had been one of your good friends for a while, longer than you and michael had been together.

well, together was a stretch. it was more of a situationship-talking stage thing. neither of you wanted to put a label on it just yet.

at the cafe, you sat beside michael and across des. the latter had made a joke about your drink choice which caused you two to laugh. michael, however, was confused.

“what’s so funny?” he asks, looking at you before looking at des.

after a couple of giggles, you explained that it was some inside joke you’d had from a while ago.

he nodded but didn’t look too content with that explanation. inside joke. why wasn’t he involved?

he wasn’t too fond of how you guys were looking at each other too. des had a look of love in his eyes. at least in michael’s eyes; maybe he was just blinded by his jealousy.

as the table continued to converse about anything and everything, you felt michael’s leg brushing yours every time désiré would direct his conversation at you.

the first time he did it, you brushed it off. maybe it was an accident. the second time was a little more obvious, his hand also moving to rest on your knee. the third time, though? you fully picked up on what he was trying to do. his hand even went up towards your thigh. thrice is a pattern after all.

you shot a glance towards michael and he just maintained his stoic expression.

‘what is your problem?’ you mouthed, and instead of giving you an explanation, he just shrugged.

your eyes basically rolled to the back of your head before you rejoined the table.

*

after the meal, the 6 of you guys decided to walk around the city more. you and michael lingered at the back and that was when you decided to ask him about just now.

“what was that about?” you ask softly, folding your arms while staring at him.

michael let out a snort. “so this is what this is about?”

you glared at him hard, in turn causing him to raise his hands up in surrender.

“fine, okay. sorry. i just didn’t like how des was staring at you so intently. like he wanted to eat you up or something,” relented michael with a small smirk on his face.

you groaned, giving him a light smack on his shoulder. “is that all? seriously? i didn’t peg you for the jealous type y’know…”

“hm. now you know.”

you rolled your eyes again but you went to hold his hand and give it a squeeze.

“if it makes you feel any better,” you started, arms swinging along with his as you two walked, “des has a girlfriend who he loves very much. we’re just good friends.”

he squeezes your hand back and smiles. not a smug kind of smile, this one was a genuine smile smile.

“yeah. your ‘jealous type’ man feels assured.”

@ vandevens 2026