summary: Everyone in the France dressing room knows Michael Olise as the quiet one. Until one post-match phone call reveals there's exactly one person who can get him talking, and smiling, without even trying.
warnings: established relationship, pure fluff, post-match celebrations.
wc: 1.2k
main masterlist | football masterlist
The final whistle had barely finished echoing around the stadium before the atmosphere inside France's dressing room dissolved into organised chaos.
Somewhere near the showers, Ousmane was already arguing, far louder than necessary, that the referee had ignored at least three fouls on him. Theo had disappeared with a towel thrown over his shoulders, still shaking his head at whatever story Jules was dramatically reenacting to anyone willing to listen. Empty water bottles rolled lazily across the tiled floor every time someone accidentally kicked one, boots were abandoned wherever players had decided to take them off, and the sharp smell of fresh grass mixed with deep heat, muscle spray and shampoo drifted through the room.
Music blasted from a speaker someone had connected to without asking, loud enough that nobody could quite agree on what song was actually playing.
France had qualified top of the group.
Nobody was in any rush to leave.
Laughter bounced off every wall, cameras from the team's media crew occasionally slipping inside to capture little moments for social media before being politely ushered back out again.
Michael sat quietly at his locker.
Exactly where he always did.
His jersey clung to his skin, still damp from ninety minutes of football as he slowly unlaced one boot after the other. The noise around him barely registered anymore. After years in football, dressing rooms had become white noise, loud enough that they somehow felt peaceful.
He reached for his phone almost automatically.
His thumb hovered over your name for barely a second before pressing call.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
By the third ring, his shoulders had begun to sink ever so slightly, the smallest hint of disappointment creeping in.
Then—
Your face appeared.
The picture shook slightly as you adjusted your phone, clearly walking somewhere before finally settling down.
"There he is."
You smiled the second you saw him.
Not the polite smile you gave players during interviews.
Not the one cameras usually caught.
This one was different.
Your eyes softened almost immediately, the corners crinkling just enough to make that tiny dimple appear in your left cheek, the one he always insisted was his favourite thing about your smile, even though you rolled your eyes every single time he mentioned it.
"There he is," you repeated, tilting your head. "Look at you."
Michael couldn't help it.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
Then the other.
"Hi."
"Hi?" You laughed. "That's all I get after you disappear for two hours?"
"We were playing."
"I know."
"I was busy."
"Oh really? I had no idea."
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
"I watched the match, by the way."
"I assumed."
"You looked good."
"I looked tired."
"You looked good and tired."
He shook his head.
"You always have something to say."
"I literally get paid to."
That earned another laugh.
A real one.
One that made him lean back against the locker with a hand covering his mouth for a second.
"No." Kylian pointed across the room without taking his eyes off Michael. "Not him."
Almost on cue, another laugh escaped Michael as you said something else.
Then another.
His shoulders relaxed completely, his posture losing the stiffness it carried during every interview. One elbow rested lazily against his knee as he listened to you ramble about a questionable refereeing decision, nodding every few seconds despite the fact you couldn't even see half of it through the screen.
"So..." you continued, narrowing your eyes playfully. "Explain something to me."
He smiled.
"What?"
"What exactly was that shot in the sixty-third minute?"
"My shot?"
"Was that your attempt at football?"
"It was blocked."
"It was going wide."
"It wasn't."
"It absolutely was."
"It wasn't."
"It absolutely—"
"You're impossible."
"I prefer observant."
"You prefer annoying."
"I can be both."
His laugh came quicker this time.
Louder.
Enough that almost the entire dressing room turned.
Silence spread in waves.
One by one.
Theo looked over.
Then Jules.
Then Warren.
Then Désiré.
Even Didier Deschamps, halfway through congratulating one of the staff members, paused for the briefest moment, his eyes drifting toward the corner of the room.
Michael Olise...
...was talking.
Not answering questions.
Talking.
Properly.
Sentence after sentence.
His hands even moved while he spoke.
Kylian slowly folded his arms.
"I genuinely didn't know he could form paragraphs."
Ousmane blinked.
"Forget paragraphs..."
He pointed dramatically across the room.
"...He's smiling."
Every head turned again.
Sure enough...
Michael hadn't noticed a single pair of eyes on him.
His entire attention remained fixed on the tiny rectangle in his hand.
"So..." he said, a grin still tugging at his lips. "You weren't even there and somehow you've still got opinions about everything."
"I always have opinions."
"I noticed."
"You should've squared the ball to Kylian."
"He told me the same thing."
"See?"
"I think you're conspiring."
"Obviously."
He shook his head, smiling to himself.
"I miss you."
The words slipped out so naturally he didn't even realise he'd said them.
Your expression softened instantly.
The teasing disappeared.
"I know."
Your voice was quieter now.
"I missed being there today too."
"I kept looking for you."
"You did?"
He nodded without thinking.
"Every time we scored."
The smile on your face grew impossibly softer.
"I'll be there next match."
"I know."
"You'll probably tell me everything I did wrong again."
"Every single thing."
"I thought so."
Another laugh.
Kylian looked genuinely offended.
He glanced around the room before dramatically throwing both hands into the air.
"Who is this man?"
The entire dressing room burst into laughter.
Michael finally looked up.
Only then did he realise every single one of his teammates had completely abandoned whatever they were doing to stare at him.
"What?"
Ousmane stepped forward first.
"No, no, no."
He pointed at the phone.
"Put her on speaker."
Michael frowned.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because."
Kylian was already laughing.
"We've just witnessed you speak more in the last five minutes than you've spoken all training camp."
"That's not true."
"It absolutely is."
Michael sighed.
"You lot are unbelievable."
Before anyone could reply, your voice drifted clearly through the phone.
"Leave my boyfriend alone."
The room froze for exactly one second.
Then Désiré clutched his chest dramatically.
"Oh, she's defending him!"
Theo started laughing so hard he nearly dropped the bottle in his hand.
Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling the warmth creeping up his neck.
"They're never going to let this go."
"No," you laughed, the sound filling his ear through the speaker. "They're absolutely going to bully you for the rest of the tournament."
He looked around at twenty-something grown men grinning at him like children who'd just discovered the world's biggest secret.
Then he looked back at your face on the screen.
For maybe the first time all evening, the noise of the dressing room faded into the background again.
pairing: michael olise x f!reader . . . masterlist
genre: fluff
synopsis: michael shares an intimate moment at the pool with you
a/n: first football fic! i'm back!! hope u enjoy :) feel free to request for football!!
it started when one of the bayern boys said, "come over, everyone's bringing someone!" before long, nearly the entire squad had shown up alongside their partners.
now all you could see and hear was the water beneath you, the music blaring, and the multiple conversations going on. some guys were playing fifa outside on the tv, some playing some sort of water volleyball.
you'd spent most of the afternoon talking with some of the other girlfriends, but it was never for long. the observing was more fun; sitting back, minding your own business, enjoying the sight of people having fun.
michael also drifted between conversations, occasionally stealing glances your way. he wasn't the loudest in the group. not even close, but somehow you always knew where he was.
now the sun was low, casting everything with a golden hue.
you sat on the edge of the pool, feet kicked lazily beneath the surface, the cool water regulating your body temperature from the earlier heat.
"i still don't understand why you haven't gotten in."
you looked up. michael walked toward you in the pool, his shoulders shimmering from the sun and water. he rested his forearms on the edge of the pool before pushing himself up just enough that he was eye level with you.
"i'm comfortable here," you replied.
he fought back, "you've been saying that since you sat here."
"i have."
he rolled his eyes with a smile that barely reached his lips. the closest thing to teasing he ever did.
"come in the pool, babe." his hands inched towards your thighs, just tracing them gently.
a quiet hum escaped your lips. "hm, no."
without another word, he stood taller in the pool, the water reaching just above his waist.
he stepped closer and closer, just until he was directly between your knees.
your legs instinctively parted just enough to make room for him, your feet still floating in the water behind him.
he looked at you, up and down, checking out his girl before him.
"you could just..."
his hands rested on either side of your thighs, not holding you, just balancing himself against the pool's edge. his thumbs just lightly grazed the skin.
"...slide in."
you raised your eyebrows in slight disbelief on how sensual he made that sound. "is that your only argument?"
"i haven't finished."
"really?"
he leaned forward slightly. "the water's nice." he added.
"mhm." your reply was nothing but inviting.
"you'll cool off."
"i seem fine where i am." you leaned in an inch this time.
"you'll make me less lonely."
you couldn't help smiling. "there are like 12 other people in the pool."
"i don't want them."
the words were so simple but they caught you off guard. michael seemed to realize what he admitted a second later, looking away with a small, embarrassed smile. "i meant-"
"i know what you meant, mikes."
his eyes found yours again. the noise around you seemed to disappear. someone cannonballed into the deep end, drawing cheers from the others, but neither of you looked away.
you lifted your hand to cup his jaw. "you know," you said, "you're not usually this persuasive."
"i'm trying something different." a smirk played on his lips.
"i noticed." a small giggle escaped you.
he gently nudged your knee. "come in."
you sighed dramatically, hand dropping from his face. "i don't know..."
"you're already a bit in."
"but i don't want to get fully in." you slightly whined.
"but why not?" his head tilted slightly as his eyes wandered again. and so did his hands.
a tingle ran through you like an electric shock, the effect he had on you by just a touch was unfathomable. "my hair. i don't want it to get wet."
"i can change that."
you gasped.
"michael, don't."
a grin spread across his face. it wasn't a big one, just enough to wrinkle the corners of his eyes.
"there it is. the smile." you commented.
"what smile?"
"the one you pretend you don't have."
"i smile." he feigned offence.
"you smirk."
"i do smile!" his offence was starting to become no longer sarcastic.
"you definitely smirk."
he chuckled under his breath before reaching up. his fingers brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. the gesture was slow, almost hesitant, as though he was checking if you'd pull away.
you didn't.
"you've got sunscreen on your cheek," he murmured.
"you just made that up," you said with disbelief.
"i did."
you laughed, shaking your head. "god, this boy.."
after a moment he spoke again, "so..."
he tilted his head. "are you coming in?"
you pretended to think about it, looking away. "hmmm.."
he placed his finger beneath your chin, making you face back to him. "are you okay?" soft concern laced in his voice.
"mhm," a hum from you before he placed his lips on yours, a soft kiss.
another one followed after a pause of a moment.
a third kiss followed as he sneakily wrapped his arms around your waist.
"nuh uh." you immediately knew what was up, trying to fight against his arms. "michael, hey, no."
"what?" he asked, pretending to be clueless.
"stop! michael!" after giving up on attempting to pry his hands off, you tightly wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life.
with one smooth movement, he lifted you enough to steal your balance. you squealed, holding on him tightly as he quickly slipped you into the water.
the splash wasn't nearly as dramatic as you expected. he didn't fully submerge you underwater. thank god.
the water reached above your shoulders, managing to get in your mouth. you sputtered it out. nonetheless, the pool was freezing for a second.
it was so cold, you began shivering. opening your eyes, you were met with the sight of michael laughing and apologizing already.
"i'm sorry."
"no you're not! you planned that." your grip on him loosened, yet his hold around you didn't falter. he could tell you were cold from not adapting to the water yet, so he attempted to warm you up with his hands and body.
"...maybe."
you splashed him in the face. "there! revenge."
he wiped the water from his eyes with one hand, refusing to let go of you. "worth it."
you rolled your eyes and rested your hands on his shoulders.
the pool got more comfortable after a few moments, yet he steadied you without pulling you any closer than you already were. around you, the party carried on as if nothing had happened.
the laughter was in the distance, and it felt like the two of you had somehow found your own little corner of the world.
⊹ 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀. a room full of people. a night that kept pulling them apart. and a pair of eyes that never stopped searching for her. sometimes, it isn’t about jealousy. sometimes, it’s about wanting to feel chosen.
⊹ 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀. boyfriend!michael olise, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship,, emotional vulnerability, quiet longing, reader crying, miscommunication, mutual hurt, love and reassurance, tender moments, they just need to communicate, wrong assumptions, overthinking, hint of fluff, reconciliation.
the annual end-of-season gala had always been one of the club’s biggest events. it was the kind of evening where everyone traded training kits for tailored suits and elegant dresses.
conversations overlapped beneath the soft hum of live music, champagne glasses clinked together, and camera flashes illuminated the room every few moments as players stopped to greet sponsors, teammates, coaches, and familiar faces they’d barely had the chance to speak to all season.
it was a night built for celebration, where everyone seemed to know everyone, and no one stayed in the same place for long.
for the players, however, the evening began long before the first guests arrived. there were interviews to film, sponsor obligations to fulfill, photographs to pose for, and media appearances scheduled down to the minute.
michael had left nearly an hour before she did. he’d kissed her goodbye in the apartment doorway, promising he’d see her soon.
“don’t take too long.” she’d teased, smoothing the lapel of his suit.
he’d smiled, leaning down to steal one last kiss.
“i’ll try.”
he expected it to be just another event. another evening of polite conversations, photographs, and speeches he’d probably forget by the end of the week.
then she walked in.
not in a way that made the room fall silent. no one stopped what they were doing. no heads turned.
but his did.
he’d watched her get ready barely an hour earlier. he’d seen the dress. he’d watched her smooth the fabric over her hips, frowning at her reflection as she quietly wondered if she should change. he’d been the one to zip it up before they left the apartment.
the one who’d smiled against the back of her shoulder and whispered,
“you look beautiful.” before pressing a lingering kiss to the warm curve of her skin.
he’d thought that would be enough. so he wasn’t prepared for what happened when she stepped into the ballroom. beneath the warm glow of the chandeliers, with laughter and conversation filling the room around them, she somehow stole the breath from his lungs all over again.
she stepped inside, taking it all in for a brief moment. then her eyes immediately began searching for him. they drifted across clusters of familiar faces, over teammates dressed in tailored suits, club staff moving from one conversation to the next, and sponsors gathered near the stage. but she didn’t have to look for long.
he was already looking at her.
standing across the ballroom, surrounded by cameras and half-listening to whatever question had just been asked, his eyes had drifted towards the entrance the moment the doors had opened. as though he’d been waiting for her.
as though he’d been checking every few minutes to see if she’d arrived yet.
the second he saw her, something in his expression softened. the polite smile he’d been wearing for photographers disappeared, replaced by one that belonged only to her.
she couldn’t help but smile back. he gave the smallest nod, barely noticeable to anyone else.
there you are.
it wasn’t spoken. it didn’t have to be. she understood it anyway.
she smiled politely at the people who greeted her, returning hugs and exchanging a few words, but her attention kept wandering.
at first, the evening felt effortless.
every chance he got, he found his way back to her. his hand settled instinctively at the small of her back as they wove through the crowd, guiding her without a word. beneath the dinner table, his fingers found hers, absentmindedly intertwining with them while someone else told a story.
every now and then, he’d lean down just to ask if she was alright, even though she was standing right beside him. sometimes, all it took was a glance from across the room, ending in a smile meant only for her.
quiet gestures. familiar habits. little reminders that, even in a room full of people, they never stopped looking for each other.
then the evening, almost cruelly, began asking for more of them than it had at the start. every conversation lasted a little longer than expected. every goodbye turned into another introduction. every time michael started making his way back to her, someone called his name before he could get there.
she never complained. she simply smiled, checking him over like she always did, before giving him a small nod.
“go,” she said softly. “i’ll be here.”
she reached up, gently fixing the collar of his suit before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.
he smiled softly against her lips, lingering for a moment longer than he meant to.
“i won’t be long.” he hesitated to pull away, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand.
she watched him disappear into the crowd, never imagining it would be nearly two hours before they stood beside each other again.
every time he looked up…
she was somewhere else.
at first, it was with one of the players girlfriends, the two of them laughing over something as they stood near the bar. the next time he found her, she was deep in conversation with one of the club’s physios, listening so intently that she hadn’t even noticed him looking.
a few minutes later, someone was introducing her to an older couple—parents of one of the academy players, if he remembered correctly. she greeted them with the same warm smile she seemed to reserve for everyone she met, her attention entirely on the conversation in front of her.
by the time another sponsor insisted on refilling her champagne, michael had already lost count of how many times he’d searched the room for her. he told himself it was nothing.
because it was.
she wasn’t flirting. she wasn’t doing anything she shouldn’t have been. she was simply being herself.
kind.
patient.
the sort of person who made complete strangers feel comfortable within minutes of meeting her. it was one of the things he loved most about her. tonight… it was also becoming one of the hardest things to watch.
his gaze lingered longer than it should have. he noticed things he normally would’ve ignored. the man who leaned in just a little too close to hear her over the music, even though there was more than enough space between them.
the sponsor who seemed in no hurry to end the conversation, smiling every time she laughed. the way another guest rested a hand lightly against her elbow as they spoke, casual enough that no one else would’ve thought twice about it.
michael did.
not because he believed any of it meant something. it didn’t.
he trusted her.
entirely.
but trust had never been the issue.
the issue was that she’d come to the gala as his girlfriend. they’d arrived hoping to spend the evening together. yet somehow…
everyone else seemed to have more of her than he did. every time he finally managed to excuse himself from one conversation and started making his way across the ballroom…
someone else reached her first. another greeting. another introduction. another laugh that wasn’t meant for him. he hated the feeling that settled in his chest.
quiet. unfamiliar. unreasonable. but impossible to ignore all the same.
meanwhile…
she had no idea she’d been the center of his attention all evening. as far as she was concerned, michael was just as impossible to catch as she was. every time she thought she’d finally get a moment with him…
someone called his name.
the ballroom had started to feel smaller. too warm. too loud. every conversation blended into the next until michael could barely distinguish one voice from another. he excused himself with a polite apology, murmuring something about needing some air before slipping through the doors leading out onto the terrace.
the night greeted him with a welcome breeze. he loosened his tie, resting his forearms against the stone balcony as the sounds of the gala became muffled behind the closed doors.
for the first time all evening… it was quiet. he exhaled slowly. he couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d forgotten he was even there. it was ridiculous. she was his girlfriend. they promised they’d find each other once the media obligations were over. yet somehow, he’d spent the entire evening watching her from a distance while she laughed with everyone else.
the thought sat heavily in his chest. he hated it. hated himself for even thinking it. because he knew her. he knew the way she loved him.
knew she would never intentionally make him feel invisible.
but jealousy wasn’t reasonable. it didn’t care what he knew. it only cared what the evening had looked like. and from where he’d been standing…
it had felt like everyone else had more of her than he did. everyone else had managed to steal a piece of her evening. while he’d spent most of his wishing for a moment that was actually theirs.
two hours.
that was how long they’d been there. two hours since she’d walked through the ballroom doors. maybe she’d been having such a good time she hadn’t even noticed how long they’d been apart. he knew it wasn’t fair. he knew it didn’t sound like her.
but after nearly two hours of watching the evening pull her farther and farther out of reach… it became harder to convince himself otherwise. all he’d wanted, was to spend the night with the woman he’d come there with.
instead… he’d spent most of it missing her.
eventually, he stopped looking towards the door. stopped checking for her. stopped hoping for that moment where her eyes would finally meet his.
he didn’t want to leave angry. he wasn’t angry. he was just tired of feeling like he was asking for something he shouldn’t have to ask for. it was just him realizing that he didn’t want to stand there anymore, quietly hoping to be noticed.
he didn’t want to feel like he was asking for a place beside his own girlfriend. so he made the decision he hated making.
he left.
alone. quietly. without her.
without the small moment at the end of the night where they would walk out together, his hand in hers.
instead, he stepped outside into the cold air by himself, carrying the quiet disappointment he didn’t know how to explain. and eventually, the hope he had been holding onto started feeling heavier than the disappointment itself. because he didn’t want to be someone who needed to be chosen every second. he didn’t want to feel forgotten. especially by her. that was the part he couldn’t ignore. the person he wanted beside him the most was the person he felt furthest away from.
so when he finally looked around one last time, he wasn’t searching anymore. he was accepting. the night wasn’t going to become what he had imagined. and maybe that was what hurt the most — not that she wasn’t there with him, but that for a while, he had been there waiting for her to notice.
the irony was…
she’d been looking for him, too. while he was standing there, slowly convincing himself that she wasn’t going to notice he was gone, she was doing the exact same thing, searching through the crowd, wondering where he had disappeared to.
they were both looking for each other. both waiting for the other person to close the distance. both unaware that they were only a few moments too late. and maybe that was the part that hurt the most. not that they didn’t care. not that one of them had stopped trying.
but that they had both been reaching for each other and somehow still ended up apart.
she didn’t know that he had already made the decision to leave. she didn’t know that, while she was walking through the room searching for him, he was already stepping outside. already accepting that he would go home without her.
and when she finally reached the place where he had been standing earlier, she found nothing. just an empty space. a space that felt strangely louder than all the noise around her.
her eyes moved through the crowd again, slower this time, almost like if she looked hard enough, he would somehow still be there.
but he wasn’t.
“have you seen michael?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.
but the calmness was only on the surface. inside, panic was already beginning to take over. and the answer she got made her heart sink.
“he left.”
for a second, she just stared. because she hadn’t expected that. she had expected to find him somewhere nearby. she had expected him to be waiting. she hadn’t expected him to leave without her.
she was afraid she had missed something. afraid that while she was caught up in the night, he had been standing there waiting for her.
and she hadn’t seen him.
she suddenly remembered every time she had glanced across the room and thought she would go to him later. every moment she had told herself there was still time. but what if there wasn’t? what if he had been standing there, quietly hoping she would come over, while she had no idea he was already feeling alone?
her fingers tightened around her phone without even realizing it. she wanted to call him. she wanted to hear his voice.
she had prepared herself to walk over, apologize for taking so long, and see that familiar softness return to his face when he realized she was there. she had prepared herself for a conversation. for an apology.
not this. not the thought of him already being gone. she noticed too late.
she didn’t let herself think. not for another second. because if she stopped, if she stood there and let every possibility run through her mind, she knew the guilt would only grow heavier.
so she moved. quickly. almost too quickly.
she grabbed her things with unsteady hands, barely noticing the voices around her or the questions she didn’t answer. the room that had felt so warm only moments ago suddenly felt too crowded, too loud, too far away from the one person she needed to see.
michael.
that was the only thought she could hold onto. she didn’t care about explaining herself yet. she didn’t care about finding the perfect words. she just needed to get to him. needed to know he was okay. needed to see him standing there in front of her instead of imagining him sitting alone, replaying the night in his head and convincing himself that leaving was easier than waiting. waiting for her.
the walk to the car felt longer than it ever had before. every second felt wasted. she checked her phone more than once, almost hoping for a message from him, some sign that he was still reaching for her too. but the screen stayed quiet. and somehow, that silence made her hurry even more.
he was really gone. her heart sank. because she knew michael. she knew he wasn’t the type to leave just because he was annoyed. he wasn’t someone who walked away to make a point or to make her chase after him. if he left, it meant he had already convinced himself that staying would hurt more. and suddenly, she didn’t have to wonder where he went. her first thought came instantly.
home.
their apartment. the place he always went when he needed quiet.
by the time she reached their apartment, her heart was still racing. not from the distance. from the fear that she was already too late.
she stood in front of the door for a moment, staring at it like it was the only thing separating her from everything she had been imagining on the way there. her hand reached for the doorknob, but she hesitated.
what if he didn’t want to talk? what if he had already convinced himself that it didn’t matter?
her fingers tightened around it. she hated that she was scared.
not of him.
never of him.
she was scared of seeing the disappointment she had put there.
slowly, she unlocked the door. the small click sounded louder than it should have in the quiet hallway. she pushed it open carefully, almost afraid that moving too quickly would make the moment real.
“michael?” she called softly. silently hoping.
her voice shook slightly at the end of his name, betraying the panic she had been trying to keep under control since she walked through the door. she swallowed, forcing herself to take another step inside.
her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her bag, her heart still pounding as she waited for any sign of him—a movement, a sound, anything that would tell her she hadn’t come too late.
no answer.
her stomach twisted. she closed the door behind her. a quiet click. her eyes immediately searching the apartment.
and then she saw him.
he was there. exactly where she had feared he would be. he was sitting alone on the couch, still wearing the same clothes from the night, like he had come home and never really moved again.
the same couch where they had spent countless quiet evenings together. the same couch that had held so many pieces of them—their laughter, their kisses, their whispered conversations, and the moments where they had let their guards down completely.
his gaze was lowered to his hands, his fingers moving absentmindedly against each other, like he had been sitting there for so long that even the smallest movement was enough to keep his mind from wandering too far.
for a second, she forgot everything she had planned to say. because seeing him there was different. the image in her head had been painful. but the reality was worse. he looked so quiet. so far away. and the worst part was knowing that he had come here because he thought being alone would hurt less than waiting for her.
her chest tightened.
“michael…” his name left her lips softer than she intended.
a plea for him to look at her.
there was something fragile in the way she said it — the quiet fear behind it, the worry she couldn’t hide anymore. her voice cracked slightly around his name, and she hated how much it revealed.
for a moment, he didn’t move. her voice reached him, but his mind seemed to take longer to understand it. he just sat there, letting the sound of her voice settle over him.
his name. the way she said it. soft enough that it almost hurt. because he had spent the entire walk home trying to accept that maybe she hadn’t been looking for him.
and now she was standing there, proving him wrong.
slowly, his eyes lifted to hers. and the second their eyes met, everything he had been trying to keep buried came rushing back.
the disappointment. the loneliness.
the hours of convincing himself that it was easier not to expect anything. but then he saw her. really saw her. the worry in her eyes. the way she was standing there like she had rushed home without thinking twice.
like finding him mattered. and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do with that. because a part of him had been prepared to see indifference. he had prepared himself for her to not understand. but he hadn’t prepared himself for her to look at him like she was scared of losing him.
“you left.” the words came out quieter than she expected.
not angry. not accusing. just hurt.
like she was still trying to understand it.
her eyes stayed on his, searching his face for something—an explanation, a sign that maybe she had misunderstood, that maybe this wasn’t what she thought it was.
“i was looking for you.” her voice trembled slightly, and she looked away for a moment, swallowing the ache in her chest.
a small confession. a little too late. but honest.
she was still trying to understand how they had ended up here — standing in the same room, looking at each other, after somehow missing each other all night.
michael stayed quiet.
his eyes dropped for a moment, not because he didn’t want to look at her, but because he didn’t know how to handle the weight of what she had just said. and for a second, he almost let himself believe that maybe the night had been different than he thought.
his fingers tightened together, resting between his knees as he sat there. he had spent the entire ride home trying to make peace with the disappointment.
“i didn’t know what else to do.” he murmured. his voice almost like a whisper.
not cold. not distant. just tired. like he had spent the entire night trying to figure out what the right thing was, and every option had somehow felt wrong.
their eyes met. and she saw it. not anger. not resentment. just the disappointment he had been carrying all night, the kind he hadn’t wanted to put on her because he knew she never meant to make him feel that way.
“i didn’t want to leave.” he admitted after a moment, his eyes dropping back to his hands.
hearing that hurt more than if he had told her he was angry.
he hadn’t wanted to leave. he had wanted to stay. he had wanted to be there with her.
her fingers curled slightly at her sides, fighting the urge to reach for him immediately. she wanted to close the distance between them, to take away the hurt she could see in him, but she also knew he needed to finish saying what he had been holding inside.
so she stayed quiet. she stayed there. letting him know she was listening.
“i kept thinking i’d wait a little longer,” a quiet breath left him. “then a little longer became the whole night.”
he paused, his gaze still lowered, like admitting it out loud made him feel more vulnerable than he expected.
“and i don’t know… i just started feeling stupid for standing there hoping you’d notice.”
her heart sank. because he didn’t say it like he was blaming her. he said it like he was blaming himself for caring. and somehow, that hurt even more. because she knew him.
she knew how much he tried not to ask for too much. she hated that he felt that way. because the last thing she ever wanted was for him to think he had to earn her attention, or that he was asking for too much.
how he would rather quietly step away than make someone feel like they had to choose him. she hated that for even a moment, he had felt like he wasn’t worth noticing.
she felt like saying less would be better. anything more felt like it would only get in the way. because she didn’t want to explain herself before he felt heard. she didn’t want to rush to tell him she didn’t mean it, when all he needed was for her to understand that, for a moment, she had made him feel alone.
so she took a small breath.
“i’m sorry.” the words carried everything she didn’t know how to say.
the regret. the guilt. the fact that she wished she had noticed sooner.
then, slowly, she moved closer. not all at once. not like she was trying to fix everything with one touch or pretend that a single moment could erase the way he had felt.
when she reached him, she stopped in front of the couch. she lowered herself beside him, leaving a little space between them at first. because she wanted him to know she was there. she didn’t want to take the feeling away from him.
she just wanted him to know he didn’t have to sit with it alone anymore.
he let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. his hands loosened, his fingers no longer twisting together as tightly as before. the silence between them was still there.
so was the hurt. but it didn’t feel quite as lonely anymore.
he felt her beside him. close enough that he could feel her warmth. she hadn’t tried to erase what he was feeling. she had simply chosen to sit with him. and somehow, that undid something inside him.
his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, the tension he had been carrying since he left the event easing just enough to notice.
he swallowed, his jaw tightening ever so slightly before he finally let it go. then, almost cautiously, he turned his head.
his eyes found hers. they lingered there. searching.
her eyes were glossy, as though she had been holding herself together ever since someone told her he had left, and now that she was finally looking at him, she wasn’t quite sure how to keep doing that.
she didn’t look at him like someone trying to defend herself. she looked at him like someone whose heart had broken the moment she realized he’d walked away alone. she held his gaze without looking away, even as her bottom lip trembled almost imperceptibly. as if she wanted him to see it.
to see how sorry she was. to see that she had come.
the guarded look he’d worn all night began to disappear. the hurt on his face lost some of its sharp edges. because no matter how hurt he had been…
seeing her like this hurt too.
the disappointment he had carried all night suddenly felt different. smaller. not because it no longer mattered. but because, sitting there, looking at the tears she was trying so hard to keep from falling, he realized something that made his chest ache.
she had been hurting too.
maybe not in the same way. maybe not at the same time. but she was carrying it now. and the last thing he had ever wanted was to be the reason her eyes looked like that.
he loved those eyes. he loved the way they lit up when she laughed, the way they softened when she looked at him, the quiet warmth they always seemed to hold.
seeing them clouded with guilt instead… it broke something inside him. his throat felt tight as he fought the urge to reach for her. his heart sank as he watched her struggle to hold herself together.
because despite everything…
despite the disappointment. despite the lonely drive home. despite every moment he had spent wondering if she would notice he was gone.
he still couldn’t bear to see her cry.
his hand twitched towards her without him even realizing it, the familiar instinct to reach for her stronger than the hurt he was still carrying.
when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. rough around the edges. not because he had raised it. because he’d spent hours swallowing the words instead.
“i didn’t want the night to end like this.”
the confession hung between them.
gentle. heartbreakingly honest. like he was mourning the ending they were supposed to have.
the walk back to the car with her hand tucked into his. the quiet drive home filled with conversations that drifted from everything to nothing at all. the familiar glance she’d always give him before leaning in to steal a kiss at a red light. walking through the front door together. her stealing one of his shirts that always ended being more comfortable than her own. the absentminded kisses exchanged while one of them wandered into the kitchen. the lingering kiss that usually greeted the end of a night well spent.
the comfort of falling onto the couch together, laughing about the smallest moments of the evening until one of them inevitably pulled the other closer. all the little things that no one else would have noticed. the quiet rituals that had slowly become the way they loved each other.
the kind of moments that only mattered when you loved someone enough to treasure every one of them.
and he did. god, he did.
instead, he’d gone home alone. stepped into the silence alone. and for the first time in a long time, home hadn’t felt like home at all.
he had spent the entire night believing he had been the only one reaching for her. he hadn’t been.
she had been searching for him too. she had rushed home with fear written all over her face. she had walked through the front door looking like she was terrified she had already lost the chance to make things right.
and suddenly, the night didn’t feel so one-sided anymore. it felt like two people who loved each other so deeply that, somehow, they still managed to miss each other in the worst possible way. he had spent the whole night wanting to reach for her. this time, he finally did.
his fingertips brushed gently against her cheek before his palm settled there, cradling her face with a tenderness that spoke long before he did. the moment his skin met hers, the tear she’d been fighting so hard to hold back finally slipped free.
it traced a slow path down her cheek. his thumb caught it halfway, brushing it away with heartbreaking care.
a sad smile tugged at the corner of his lips. his forehead rested against hers.
“i hate that i made you cry.” low and quiet. there was no frustration in it. only regret.
her breath caught. for a second, she could only look at him.
even after everything. even after he’d gone home alone. even after she’d been the reason he’d spent the night hurting…
his first instinct was still to comfort her.
a small, broken smile found its way onto her lips as another tear slipped free. she gave the faintest shake of her head. she lifted her hand to his wrist, her fingers curling gently around it where it rested against her cheek, holding it there.
“i just…” her eyes closed for a moment. “i hated knowing you thought you had to leave alone.”
when she looked at him again, there was so much love in her eyes it almost ached.
“so… please, don’t ever do that again.” it wasn’t a demand. it was a plea.
“come find me. interrupt me, steal me away if you have to,” a watery laugh escaped her. “i’ll always choose you.”
the words settled somewhere deep inside him.
softly. patiently. untangling every doubt that had followed him home. because now he understood. it had never been him against her. it had only ever been the night.
a misunderstanding. a painful one. but still, only a misunderstanding. his heart refused to hold onto the hurt any longer.
“i’m sorry too,” he whispered. “i’ll always find you.”
there wasn’t a trace of doubt in his voice anymore. only certainty. his thumb brushed gently across her cheek one last time. then, without another word, he closed the small distance between them.
his lips found hers in a kiss so impossibly gentle it almost hurt. there was no urgency. no desperation. only relief. the quiet kind that settled deep in his chest after hours of wondering whether he’d ever get to hold her like this again. just two people finding their way back to each other after spending an entire night convinced they had somehow been left behind.
he kissed her slowly, as though he wanted her to feel everything he couldn’t quite put into words. that he had missed her. that he had never stopped loving her. that one painful night would never be enough to change that.
she melted into the kiss almost immediately. her fingertips brushed lightly along his jaw before settling against the side of his neck, holding him with the same tenderness she’d been trying to put into words. her other hand came to rest against his chest, right above his heart, lingering there as she kissed him back.
“i love you.” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion but gentle enough to soothe the last of her fears.
and one bad night could never be bigger than that. she smiled through the tears gathering in her eyes.
and in that moment, with his love spoken so simply and honestly, she felt at peace.
“i know,” she whispered. “i love you too.”
her eyes shining as she looked at him. her smile trembled, not from sadness, but from the sheer weight of everything she felt in that moment. she looked at him like she was trying to hold onto the feeling. for a moment, neither of them moved. they didn’t need to. the night had been messy.
it had been full of missed chances, wrong assumptions, and moments where they had both felt a little too far away from each other. but they were here now. together.
his fingers found hers, intertwining slowly. a small reminder. a promise. and this time, neither of them let go.
because sometimes love wasn’t about never getting things wrong. sometimes it was about finding your way back.
Warnings! Smut, blowjob, jealousy, not proof read cause it's late and I forgot.. authors first language isn't english.
✉: Ehum... 👀 this isn't very fitting after spain france is it.......... anyways.. maybe this can make y'all happier ! (I'm crying too dw) i'm sorry this got really messy towards the end idk what happened.. requests are open !! 💗
You were sprawled across the velvet sofa in Michael’s living room, your legs draped over the armrest and your head hanging off the edge. It wasn't exactly super comfortable but you didn't bother switching positions.
He was standing by the kitchen island, scrolling through his phone with a focused look on his face, wearing nothing but a pair of grey joggers.
The silence between you was comfortable, the kind you only had with people you felt truly safe with, friends, lovers.
Family of course.
– "I can feel you staring" Michael said, his voice low and amused. He didn't look up from the screen, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Even mr nonchalant smiled when with the right people.
– "I'm observing," you corrected, shifting your weight and letting out a long sigh. "That's a difference. For example.. I've observed that you've been on that phone for ten minutes and you haven't said a word."
He frowned, finally looking at you. – "So what are you saying? That I keep secrets from you?"
You nodded, shifting slightly, a smug smile playing on your lips. – "Mhm. Exactly"
He laughed, – "Come here and see how many secrets i'm keeping then" his voice was teasing but soft. As if he really meant it, he didn't have any secrets.
You didn't need him to tell you twice.
You slid off the velvet sofa before you passed the gap between the living room and the kitchen.
It wasn't far, more like an open space of five meters that separated the two rooms.
Michael didn't move, but his eyes tracked you, a flicker of anticipation, love perhaps, lighting up the dark brown of his pupils.
Just as you reached out to loop your arms around his waist, the sound of his phone vibrating filled the room.
He sighed as he glanced down on the screen. The name flashing across the screen wasn't a teammates or his mothers. It was a girl he’d been seeing on and off for a few weeks.
You'd stalked her instagram a few nights ago, she was all plastic surgeries and influencer like, not at all like you.
She was the definition of fake, she was beautiful of course—but fake.
There was probably not a single ounce of natural beauty left on her body, and of course it hurt you, knowing that he was with her.
At the same time as he was with you.
Was he more serious with her? Did he have plans of a feature with her?
Were you just the side part?
You weren't really official yet, and if somebody asked you'd say you were friends—but you definitely felt that whatever you two had was more than just a friends with benefits thing.
Not that this wasn't your first time hooking up with a friend, cause it was. But it definitely felt like more.
– "I have to take this, sorry" Michael murmured, his voice shifting into that polite, neutral tone he only used for people who weren't in his inner circle.
You were, you definitely were.
He stepped back a fraction, creating a gap between your bodies that felt cold and lonely. He swiped the screen to answer, bringing the phone to his ear. – "Hey. Yeah, I'm good... What are you doing?"
You stood there for a moment, the air in the kitchen suddenly feeling too thin, as if your lungs had forgotten how to breathe.
You could hear a faint bit of her, high-pitched voice leaking through the speaker of his phone—the sound of someone who spent more time talking to herself in the mirror than to real people.
The jealousy didn't hit you as a wave, it hit you as a spark, a sudden, electric need to reclaim the space she was trying to occupy in his head.
In his heart.
You didn't want to argue or ask who she was, you wanted to remind him exactly where you were and what he was missing.
You wanted to remind him why you two were so close, why you spent the night at his house almost thrice a week. Why he slept at your place the rest of the days.
Without a word, you sank to your knees.
Michael’s breath hitched, she heard it, you were sure she did.
He froze, his eyes widening as he looked down at you, the phone still pressed to his ear.
You didn't look up at him, you didn't have to.
You just focused on the waistband of those grey joggers, your fingers hooking into the fabric and pulling them down with a slow, deliberate confidence you rarely saw yourself having.
– "Michael? Are you there? Is everything okay?," the girl's voice hissed through the air, sounding confused in a way that gave you energy—as if she almost knew what was happening but wouldn’t admit it to herself.
You leaned in, your lips brushing against him first, a teasing promise that made his hips jerk instinctively, you had to hold back a smile—it was going exactly the way you wanted it to.
When you finally took him into your mouth, Michael’s hand flew up to the counter to steady himself and a low guttural groan escaped his throat.
He tried to recover, his voice rough and filled with arousal as he spoke. – "Yeah... yeah, I'm okay... Just... dropped something. What were you talking about?"
You knew the exact way his body reacted to your touch, the way his heart skipped a beat when you did something new.
You knew him all too well, and of course you'd use that against him.
You swirled your tongue around the head of his length, almost sucking on the skin.
Above you, Michael was a portrait of controlled chaos, his head was tilted back, eyes closed tight, while his other hand gripped the counter as if he was holding on for dear life.
– "I was saying that maybe we could go to watch that new movie this friday?" she continued, her voice sounding tiny and distant compared to the wet sounds filling the room between you. "Are you listening, Mike? You sound... weird."
Ew, Mike.
Why would she call him that?
Michael let out a shaky breath, his hips bucking forwards. He looked down at you, his expression a mixture of intense desire and something else.
Your hands roamed his inked thighs as your mouth kept working him, your tongue pressing small kitten licks to the tip—only to take him completely in your mouth moments later.
He moaned, head tipping back once again, – "Fuck." He groaned, but quickly tried to save it; "Sorry.. I uh.. stubbed my toe in the kitchen counter, sure. Uh.. i'll pick you up at five" he let out a sigh of pleasure, almost not even being able to finish the sentence.
And then, to your relief you heard the shift in her voice on the other end of the line. – "Michael seriously, what are you doing?"
His hips bucked upwards again, once, twice. – "Nothing, okay. I will pick you up monday at five"
His voice was rushed, as if he just wanted the call to end as soon as possible, as if he just wanted to be with you and the pleasure all together.
And forget about her completely.
She sighed on the other end, – "The movie is only on fridays.. but it's okay, we can watch something else"
She truly sounded disappointed, and a little part of you felt bad, you could've just texted or dmd her to tell her that she wasn’t the only girl he was seeing and she'd probably slap him, block him and call it a day.
It wouldn’t have to be harder than that.
You started working him with your hands, stroking from the tip and up, palming his balls meanwhile. – "Yeah sorry.. i'll eh.. i'll pick you up friday, see ya" he pressed the end call button faster than you could react.
A loud moan escaped him the second the call ended and he threw his phone on the counter, grabbing your head, guiding you without really taking control. – "Oh fuck, what are you doing? You're gonna be the end of me" he murmured, accent thick as he played with your hair.
You smiled, pulling off to press a quick kiss to the inside of his thigh.
You didn’t say anything though, you weren't sure what you would say without making it extremely awkward, you just kept working until he came, his seed spilling into you as you swallowed.
– "Are you really going to the movies with her?" You asked, wiping your mouth with the inside of your arm as you stood up.
He pulled up his grey joggers, sighing slightly before answering. – "I don't know, I think so, just to speak to her. I already know who i'll choose"
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.
gurll can u do some olise bf headcanons where the relationship is private but not secret?,thankiess n have a good day🫶
sorry it's short, i was running out of ideas
Michael Olise HCs
michael olise x f! reader
masterlist
:: Michael Olise private relationship headcanons
bf!michael . who never posts you online, but if someone catches the two of you together, he doesn't pull away or try to hide you.
bf!michael . who always walks over to your section after matches. He'll give you a quick hug, kiss your forehead, ask if you enjoyed the game, then head back to the dressing room like it's the most normal thing ever.
bf!michael . who never introduces you as "My friend." If someone asks who you are, he'll simply smile and say, "My girlfriend."
bf!michael . who would never ask you to hide your face if fans spotted the two of you. He'd simply keep walking with his hand in yours.
bf!michael . who answers interview questions with short, honest replies. "Yeah, I have a girlfriend." Then immediately changes the subject because he'd rather keep talking about football than your private life.
bf!michael . who loves that your relationship exists outside of social media. The best moments stay between the two of you instead of becoming content for everyone else.
bf!michael . who doesn't post anniversary paragraphs. Instead, he'll quietly leave flowers on the kitchen counter before training with a little note that only you will ever read.
bf!michael . who prefers dates where nobody recognizes either of you. Late night walks, bookstores, quiet cafés, or empty beaches.
bf!michael . who isn't big on public displays of affection, so instead you'll feel his hand settle on your knee beneath the table, giving it the gentlest squeeze whenever he catches you smiling at something.
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.
