SHOT, SCORED;
⤷ ゛masterlist ˎˊ˗
michael olise x f!interviewer!reader
secret dating.
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: even when you do your job as an interviewer, michael finds a way to tease you without anyone knowing.
the camera light blinks red, signaling you’re live. you take a deep breath, sitting across from michael in the studio, your notepad on your lap and microphone in hand. it’s just another post-match interview for you or at least, it’s supposed to be.
“big win today,” you start, giving him a professional smile, “how are you feeling after that performance?”
michael leans back in his chair, his usual calm expression in place, eyes flicking to you just briefly before looking at the camera. “yeah… good,” he says, voice quiet, almost lazy. “happy with the three points.”
you resist the urge to roll your eyes. that’s it? you’re his girlfriend and he knows how much effort you put into these interviews, but he can’t even give you more than three words?
you clear your throat, forcing a smile as you continue. “you scored the winning goal, michael. can you explain it?”
he shrugs, his lips twitching like he’s fighting a smirk. “i think wilf passed me the ball. shot. scored.”
your pen almost snaps in your hand. the viewers don’t know, but you do: this is his way of teasing you. he knows how much you care about making the interview flow smoothly, and he’s deliberately giving you nothing.
“right,” you say slowly, tilting your head. “would you say your performance today was thanks to your hard work in training or perhaps a certain someone’s pre-match pep talk?”
at that, his eyes finally meet yours properly "i don't know, maybe the second option." he says while you try to keep a professional facade.
the interview wraps up quickly after that. the moment the cameras stop rolling, you put down your mic and give him a pointed look. “really? that’s how you answer? ‘yeah, good’? ‘shot. scored’?”
michael stands, sliding his hands into his pockets, and tilts his head at you, his voice as casual as ever. “what? that’s how i always talk in interviews.”
“yes, but you don’t have your girlfriend interviewing you every time,” you retort, crossing your arms.
he steps closer, his gaze softening just a bit, though his tone stays lazy. “thought you liked me being chill?”
you sigh, your annoyance slipping as he smirks faintly. “i like it when you’re chill, not when you’re making me work twice as hard on live tv.”
finally, he chuckles under his breath, reaching out to take your hand. “fine. next time, i’ll say something nice. like ‘i dedicated the goal to my girlfriend, who threatened me before the game.’ how’s that?”
you shook your head. “you’re stupid.”
“yeah,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before heading for the exit like he didn’t just drive you crazy for the entire interview.
despite yourself, you’re smiling as you follow him.
you catch up to him as he strolls down the hallway, hands in his pockets, walking like he has all the time in the world. meanwhile, you’re still half-annoyed, half-smiling.
“michael,” you call, quickening your pace. “you can’t just walk away like you didn’t sabotage my whole segment.”
he glances at you, his expression still unreadable, though the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly. “didn’t sabotage it. people like when i keep it short, makes me mysterious.”
you let out a small laugh despite yourself. “mysterious? you looked like you were seconds away from falling asleep.”
he doesn’t respond or at least, not immediately. instead, he pushes open the door to the parking lot and gestures for you to go first, a small gesture you almost miss because of how casual he makes it.
once you’re outside, he finally turns his head toward you. “so, where are we going? are you still mad at me?”
you raise an eyebrow. “shouldn’t you be the one making plans? you’re the one who made me look like i was pulling teeth on live tv.”
he chuckles quietly, his hand brushing yours as you walk. “fine. dinner, then my treat.”
you eye him skeptically. “dinner? with actual conversation this time? or are you planning to just sit there and shrug at me across the table?”
that earns a faint smirk, and he finally turns to face you properly. “depends. are you going to interview me at the restaurant too?”
you narrow your eyes at him, but there’s a playful edge in your voice. “maybe i will. ‘how do you feel about the bread basket? CARE to elaborate?’”
this time, he actually laughs. a soft, rare sound that makes your annoyance fade entirely.
the two of you reach his car, and he opens the passenger door for you. once you’re inside, he leans down slightly, his voice dropping. “you know i like messing with you, right? it’s… fun.”
you meet his eyes, finally letting a small smile slip. “oh, i know. but one day, you’re going to pay for it on live tv. i’ll make sure of it.”
he grins faintly, shutting the door and walking around to the driver’s side. as the car starts, you can feel the tension between irritation and affection hanging in the air—exactly how it always is with him.
and as you pull away from the stadium, you catch him sneaking a glance at you, his usual calm expression softening for just a second.
the restaurant michael chooses is quiet, dimly lit and tucked away from the usual buzz of the city. it’s the kind of place where people don’t bother asking for photos or autographs, something you’re grateful for after the long day.
you slide into the booth, still eyeing him suspiciously as he takes the seat across from you, looking completely at ease.
“so,” you start, picking up the menu, “are you planning to talk more than three words tonight, or should i just enjoy the food in silence?”
michael leans back, resting one arm on the booth, eyes scanning the menu lazily. “depends,” he says smoothly, “are you going to grill me with questions again?”
you groan, dropping the menu on the table. “i was doing my job. you’re the one who turned it into a game.”
his lips twitch into a faint smirk. “i like watching you get all serious. it’s cute.”
you blink, momentarily thrown off. he says it so casually, like he’s commenting on the weather. no grand gestures, no change in tone—just that same lazy voice that somehow makes your chest warm.
“cute, huh?” you reply, trying to sound unimpressed even as your cheeks heat up. “glad you find my suffering entertaining.”
michael finally meets your gaze, his expression softening just a little. “not your suffering, just you. when you’re all focused like that, it makes me want to mess with you.”
you roll your eyes, but a smile creeps onto your face anyway. “one day, i’m going to get you back in front of everyone.”
he tilts his head, pretending to consider it. “fair but i’ll still win. i always do.”
the waiter arrives, giving you both a moment to cool off as you order. once they leave, there’s a comfortable quiet between you. for a while, you just watch him. how calm he is, how he never seems rushed or worried, even when the world expects so much from him.
“do you ever get nervous?” you ask suddenly, breaking the silence. “before big games? or interviews?”
michael doesn’t answer right away. he leans back, looking at you with that unreadable expression again. then, after a moment, he says, “not really. football’s just football. only thing that gets me nervous sometimes…” he pauses, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than usual. “…is you.”
your breath catches, but before you can respond, the food arrives, breaking the moment. typical michael: dropping something like that and then acting like nothing happened as he picks up his fork.
you shake your head, smiling to yourself.
michael takes a slow bite of his food, his eyes lazily drifting up to meet yours. he doesn’t say anything at first. he just watches you, that same unreadable expression on his face, the one that somehow makes you more aware of every move you make.
after a long moment, he says quietly, “you know… you don’t have to look that serious when you eat. you’re not on camera anymore.”
you raise an eyebrow. “i’m literally just eating.”
he tilts his head slightly, his lips curving into the faintest smirk. “yeah, but you look cute when you’re trying to act like you’re not.”
your fork pauses midair. “michael,” you warn, narrowing your eyes.
“what?” he asks, voice smooth as ever, feigning innocence. “i’m just saying. not my fault my girlfriend looks good even when she’s mad at me.”
you shake your head, biting back a smile. “you’re ridiculous. you spend the whole interview acting like you don’t care about anything, and now suddenly you’re all charming?”
michael leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze locking with yours. “i was saving it for later. for you.”
the way he says it makes your chest tighten. you try to hide it, taking another sip of your drink. “you’re so annoying,” you mutter, but your voice lacks conviction.
he smirks again, leaning back in his seat, clearly pleased with himself. “you love it.”
for a moment, you both eat in silence, but then he speaks again, his tone even more casual, as if he’s asking about the weather. “you know, if i score next match… maybe i’ll point to the camera and dedicate it to you. just to make everyone wonder.”
your eyes widen slightly. “you wouldn’t.”
he meets your gaze, that lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “wouldn’t i?”
you narrow your eyes, though you can’t help but smile. “you’re just saying that to see me panic, aren’t you?”
michael shrugs, leaning forward again, his voice dropping a little lower. “maybe. or maybe i just like watching you blush.”
your cheeks heat instantly, and you look down at your plate, trying to mask it. he notices, of course. he notices everything, but doesn’t push. instead, he just leans back again, looking completely unbothered as if he didn’t just turn the whole atmosphere upside down with a few quiet words.
the waiter clears your plates, and you’re left with nothing but your drinks and michael’s infuriatingly calm gaze on you. he’s been teasing you all evening with little comments, but now there’s a shift in the air.
he leans forward, resting his chin on his hand, his voice low and smooth.
“you know… i think i like it when you’re annoyed at me.”
you groan softly, rubbing your forehead. “why am i not surprised?”
“because,” he continues, tilting his head, “you get this look in your eyes. like you’re ready to fight me. it’s cute.”
you cross your arms. “you keep calling me cute like it’s supposed to make up for how annoying you are.”
michael doesn’t move or blink. he just studies you, and then says, almost lazily, “i don’t say it to make up for anything. i say it because it’s true and i like reminding you of that.”
the words, simple as they are, hit harder than they should. your heart does a little flip, and you quickly glance away, trying to hide your reaction.
he notices, of course. he always notices. “blushing again?” he murmurs, his tone teasing but softer now, almost fond.
you let out a breath. “you’re insufferable, you know that?”
michael smirks faintly, leaning back in his chair. “yeah. but you still love me, no?”
later that night, the two of you walk along a quiet street near his apartment. the air is cool, the world hushed, the city lights distant and soft.
for once, michael isn’t teasing. he’s walking beside you, his hand brushing yours every so often until he finally takes it, his fingers lacing with yours without a word.
after a few moments of silence, you glance up at him. “you’re quiet now. no more jokes?”
he looks down at you, his expression unreadable but softer than usual. “not always in the mood to talk,” he says simply.
you study him for a moment, trying to read him. “so what are you in the mood for?”
michael slows his pace, turning slightly to face you under the glow of a streetlamp. he’s still calm, still composed, but there’s a glint in his eyes now.
“just this,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against your hand. “walking with you.”
your chest tightens, the simplicity of his words sinking in. he doesn’t do big speeches, doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve but in moments like this, you feel everything he doesn’t say.
you smile softly, leaning your head against his shoulder as you continue walking. he doesn’t say anything else, but his hand tightens gently around yours, a silent promise in his touch.
even though he’ll probably tease you again tomorrow, right now he’s just yours.
dixheuresdix, like and comment <3
