#leiswork

if people can describe michael olise in one word, they would have said nonchalant. but he was not, and you knew it but not at this point.

he was never overly affectionate in public, wasn’t the type to constantly ask for hugs or follow you around the apartment for no reason. he loved physical affection of course, but in his own quiet little ways like a hand resting on your thigh during dinner or his fingers intertwined with yours while watching a movie.

that was precisely why the past week had completely confused you.

france had lost the world cup semi-final a week ago, yes and you knew how much it had hurt him, even if michael had hidden it better than most people.

but the second he had returned to munich, he had practically attached himself to you like a very tall and sad koala.

when you were at the airport, the moment he saw you waiting for him, he hugged you for almost two whole minutes without saying a single word.

during the car ride home, he held your hand the entire time, when you got home, he followed you everywhere but like... literally everywhere.

if you went to the kitchen, he was standing beside you. if you sat on the couch? he immediately laid down with his head on your lap and if you went to brush your teeth, he was leaning against the bathroom doorframe waiting for you.

at first, you thought it was sweet but day two happened, day three... and day seven.

“baby?”

“hm?”

“why are you following me?”

you looked over your shoulder to find him standing in the doorway of the laundry room.

“i’m not,” he shrugged slightly.

“i’m putting towels away.”

“yeah.”

“so why are you here?”

he looked around the room for a few seconds and didn't answer.

he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore, and when the pre-saison training had started a few days ago, his teammates had immediately noticed something was different.

“you going home after this?” jamal asked. “we wanted to eat together.”

“yeah... can’t.”

“why?”

michael had looked down while putting his things away. “she’s waiting for me.”

to be honest, you were not.

“okay...”

you had genuinely started wondering whether he had developed separation anxiety overnight because this was getting out of hands.

one evening, you decided to take a shower before bed and when you walked back into your shared bedroom twenty minutes later, you found michael laying across your side of the bed hugging your pillow.

“that’s my pillow.”

“yeah.”

“why are you hugging it?”

“i'm waiting for you.”

you sat beside him. “baby.”

he immediately sat up before wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his face against your stomach.

“are you okay?” you asked softly.

“yeah.”

“you’ve been glued to me for an entire week and yesterday you asked me to come sit in the bathroom because you didn’t want to be alone while taking a bath.”

“that’s reasonable.”

“no it’s not.”

you gently ran your fingers through his locks while waiting for him to speak.

“i don’t really feel good,” he quietly admitted.

your expression immediately softened, he rarely admitted things like that.

“because of the world cup?”

he nodded against your shoulder. “i know it’s stupid.”

“it’s not.”

“everyone keeps telling me we’ll have another opportunity in four years.”

“you will.”

“i know but i wanted this one.”

you smiled sadly.

that suddenly explained everything. he wasn’t being clingy because he suddenly became a different person, he was simply allowing himself to feel miserable.

“i’m sorry, i’ve been following you around like a puppy.”

“a little,” you laughed softly.

“just a little?”

“a very sad puppy. and you’re allowed to have bad weeks, michael.”

“thank you, because i’m probably going to continue being clingy for another week.”

“i figured,” you smiled.

you had been dating lamine yamal for a few months now.

he was always so sweet with you, stealing moments after training to pull you into quiet corners for soft kisses, sending you silly voice notes when he was away with the national team and showing up at your door with your favorite snacks after long days.

everyone around him assumed he was this experienced guy.

the way girls used to throw themselves at him and how the media painted him as a young heartthrob with a list of exes.

you never pushed. you loved the way he blushed when things got a little heated.

one quiet evening after a big win, you were both in his apartment, curled up on the huge couch watching a movie.

lamine kept glancing at you instead of the screen, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh under the blanket.

you turned to him smiling and kissed him softly.

the kiss deepened quickly, his breath hitching as you climbed into his lap, straddling him. his hands settled on your waist, gripping a little tighter as your tongues met.

“i want you,” you whispered against his lips, feeling the heat building between you.

lamine nodded and carried you to his bedroom like you weighed nothing.

clothes came off slowly. he was so gentle, worshipping every inch of your skin with his mouth.

you could feel how hard he was against your thigh, his body trembling slightly with anticipation.

when you finally guided him between your legs and he pushed inside you for the first time, you both moaned at the feeling.

he was thick and warm, stretching you perfectly, but something felt off.

his movements were hesitant, a little clumsy, like he was concentrating too hard not to hurt you.

you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper, and noticed the way his hips stuttered, the slight wince on his face mixed with pure bliss.

that was when you tilted.

you cupped his cheeks, slowing him down gently as you looked into his eyes.

“lamine… baby, have you done this before?” you asked softly.

he froze for a second, burying his face in your neck, embarrassed.

“no...” his voice came out quiet and shy.

your heart melted at his confession. you kissed him deeply, running your fingers through his hair.

“it’s okay, we’ll go slow,” you smiled.

lamine relaxed against you, nodding as he started moving again, this time with more confidence guided by your praises.

you showed him how to roll his hips, how to find the rhythm that made you gasp his name.

it turned into something hotter, sweat-slicked skin sliding together, his moans growing louder and more desperate every time you clenched around him.

he was a quick learner, soon thrusting deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you while his thumb found your clit, circling it shyly at first then firmer when he heard how much you loved it.

you smiled through your moans, pulling him closer so your bodies were completely flush.

the room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

lamine lasted longer than you expected for his first time, focused entirely on making you cum first.

when you finally tightened around him, shaking with pleasure, he followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a broken groan of your name.

afterwards, he didn’t pull out right away.

he stayed on top of you, catching his breath, pressing soft kisses all over your face and neck.

“thank you for being patient with me. next time i’ll be even better, i promise.”

you laughed softly and held him tight, running your fingers down his back.

“you were perfect, lamine.”

the two of you stayed tangled together under the sheets for hours, talking quietly, laughing about the rumors and how wrong everyone had been, sharing gentle touches and more kisses until sleep took you both.

he was inexperienced but so full of love and eagerness to learn everything with you.

the world cup was over for france.

the stadium was still loud around désiré, spanish supporters celebrating while french fans sat in stunned silence. his chest felt heavy, his throat hurt from holding back tears for the last ten minutes of the match and he hated how helpless he had felt when the clock kept ticking down.

he had dreamed about this moment his entire life but not this ending.

the moment he saw you waiting for him in the tunnel, something inside him broke.

his face immediately crumpled as he wrapped his arms around you without even saying hi, just buried his face in your shoulder and cried.

it was real, ugly tears that he had been trying so hard to hide in front of millions of people only a few seconds earlier.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered. “i’m so sorry.”

your own tears had already started falling the second you saw his red eyes and you wrapped both arms around him, gently running your fingers through his curls as if that alone could make the pain disappear.

“you have nothing to apologize for.”

“we lost,” his voice cracked completely on the last word.

“i know.”

“i wanted this so badly.”

you closed your eyes as tears slipped down your own cheeks. you wanted it too, you had imagined the final, celebrating with him and watching him lift the trophy.

instead, here you were, crying together in a stadium tunnel.

“i know, baby,” you kissed his neck.

he cried even harder at the nickname. it sounded so unfair for him, how could you still be comforting him when you were hurting too?

he pulled away slightly to look at you and immediately frowned when he noticed your tears.

“why are you crying?”

“because you’re crying?” you laughed.

he shook his head, wiping one of your tears away with his thumb before another one rolled down his own face.

“don’t cry because of me.”

“that’s impossible.”

the tunnel around you was strangely quiet despite the chaos happening outside.

“i feel like i disappointed everyone.”

“you didn’t.”

“i disappointed myself.”

“you could lose every match for the rest of your career and i’d still be proud of you,” you gently took his face in your hands as his eyes immediately filled with tears again.

you smiled sadly when you saw him crying again, somehow louder.

“next time, cutie,” you whispered.

“yeah next time,” he murmured still crying.

this wouldn’t be the last world cup of his career and you know it, one day, when the tears will be replaced by smiles and gold medals, you’d still be waiting for him in the tunnel exactly like you were now.

the champions league was his, again.

confetti exploded into the night sky, golden streamers falling onto the pitch while thousands of supporters screamed from the stands. teammates were running in every direction, some collapsing onto the grass, others hugging each other so tightly they almost fell over.

désiré smiled through it all. he celebrated and laughed, but every seconds, his eyes wandered back toward the touchline.

he was looking for you.

he spotted you standing behind the barriers in his jersey, already smiling before your eyes even met and his entire face changed.

he excused himself from another teammate’s without a second thought before jogging toward you.

you barely had time to open your arms before he was already wrapping you in the biggest hug imaginable.

“we did it,” he almost lifted you off the ground.

you laughed, your own arms tightening around his waist. “i’m so proud of you.”

he pulled back just enough to look at you.

his curls were damp with sweat and there were tiny pieces of gold confetti caught in his hair.

he looked happier than you had ever seen him and without thinking, he leaned down and kissed you like he had been waiting the entire evening to do exactly that.

he rested his forehead against yours for a second before taking the winner’s medal from around his own neck.

“hold still.”

“uh?”

instead of answering, he placed the medal around your neck.

“there.”

“that’s yours.”

“looks better on you,” he smiled.

for the rest of the celebrations, you barely left his side, everywhere he went your fingers stayed intertwined with his.

@user1

watching désiré immediately ignore everyone after winning the champions league just to look for his girlfriend, hug her first and put his medal around her neck instead of keeping it on himself??? that’s literally teenage love 🥹

@user2

the way she followed him around the pitch in and he kept checking every five seconds to make sure she was still next to him ❤️‍🩹 i’m actually sick

@user3

you CANNOT fake that kind of love

@user4

literally everyone has agreed on the fact that désiré doué and his girlfriend are the CUTEST couple on earth 😭😭 and tbh i refuse to hear any other opinion

you and michael were on vacations for one week after the world cup. you decided to go to the turkish and caico islands, islands that michael absolutely wanted to visit.

so there you were, in a villa with nothing around you except a pool and some lights.

it was dark outside, you were both on lounge chairs and without saying much, you started undressing first, the thrill of what you wanted making your skin tingle.

he watched you for a moment, then followed without saying anything, dropping his clothes beside yours.

you slid into the water first, the warmth wrapping around your naked body. michael joined you seconds later and the moment he was close enough you reached for him.

he pulled you in without a word, arms sliding around your waist as your bodies met under the surface. you wrapped your legs around him, pressing chest to chest, skin to skin, holding on tight in a hug.

the water held you both as you floated slowly together, barely moving while his arms stayed locked around your back, one hand gently stroking along your spine.

your fingers traced the back of his neck and you rested your head on his shoulder,

“feels good,” you whispered.

“mmh,” he hummed in reply, squeezing you closer, his lips brushing your temple.

michael occasionally nuzzled into your neck or ran his hands slowly down your sides, keeping you as close as possible.

you responded by holding him even tighter, one hand in his hair, the other tracing the muscles of his back.

the pool water lapped softly around you both as you drifted in lazy circles, never letting go and minutes stretched into hours.

“don’t let go,” he murmured like he was falling asleep.

“i won’t,” you answered softly, pressing a kiss to his collarbone before burying your face against him again.

you stayed like that for a long time, tangled together in the middle of the pool, exchanging soft kisses and tighter squeezes.

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.”

france had won against morocco. 2-0.

the players celebrated together in the pitch while the french supporters erupted into cheers.

on the other side of the stadium, the moroccan fans applauded too, disappointed but proud. you weren't with them, rather on the french side because désiré proposed you to go to the family side with his family.

you had spent ninety minutes cheering every good chance your country created and silently praying for a miracle that never came.

you had known this match would happen eventually but it still hurt.

down on the pitch, désiré was hugging his teammates, smiling, laughing and jumping then after a while, you saw him jogging toward the barrier where families were gathered.

you watched him approach as he reached you and without hesitation he wrapped both arms around you, holding you tightly against him.

“hi.”

you stayed completely still, your arms remaining by your sides and he blinked.

“baby?”

you looked straight ahead with the most dramatic frown and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“are you refusing to hug me?”

you finally looked at him. “you beat my country.”

“i know.”

“twice in two games.”

“yeah.”

“and now you’re smiling?”

“i’m happy we won,” he bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing and tried hugging you a little tighter but you still didn’t move.

“this is punishment?”

“maybe.”

“that’s fair,” he smiled.

he gently leaned down and pressed a kiss against your cheek then another, again and again.

you tried so hard not to smile.

“i saw that.”

“you saw nothing.”

“you’re still the prettiest girl in this entire stadium,” he murmured, kissing your cheek again. “actually the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

you looked away trying very hard to keep your serious expression.

“and you’re still pretty even when you’re pretending to hate me,” he kissed you again.

the corner of your mouth twitched just slightly.

“you're smiling,” he smiled.

“i didn’t smile.”

“you absolutely did.”

you looked away again and he rested his forehead against yours.

“i’m sorry... i really am,” another kiss landed on your cheek as his face was on your neck. “i know you wanted morocco to win.”

you nodded and he smiled gently.

“i would’ve been cheering for you too if i wasn't playing, like with canada and netherlands.”

that finally made you smile and désiré looked ridiculously proud of himself. “that’s better.”

but you still hadn’t hugged him and he noticed after another few seconds.

“you’re still not hugging me.”

“no.”

“still grounded?” he laughed.

“mhm.”

he smiled before slowly letting go of you.

“okay, i’ll accept my punishment.”

he took half a step back and immediately your eyebrows pulled together.

“where are you going?” you frowned.

“you weren’t hugging me.”

“yes.”

“so i thought–”

“who said you were done apologizing?”

“i’m... sorry?” he stared at you.

“that wasn’t enough.”

“it wasn’t?”

“no.”

“what do i have to do?” he couldn’t stop smiling.

you looked at him then mumbled. “hug me again.”

his smile immediately grew, if it was even possible. “with pleasure.”

he stepped forward again and this time wrapping both arms around you even more gently than before. he didn’t say anything, waiting and after a few seconds, you sighed.

“fine.” your arms lifted slowly and you wrapped them around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest.

“youpi!” he smiled so widely that his cheeks started hurting.

you pinched his side. “don’t get too happy.”

“too late.”

“morocco still should’ve won,” you rolled your eyes.

“maybe next time.”

“you’re lucky i love you.”

“i love you too,” he kissed the top of your head.

another small silence settled between you while the celebrations continued around the pitch and you stayed exactly where you were, still hugging him.

“don’t tell anyone i forgave you this quickly.”

“never,” he grinned.

“especially not my family.”

“i definitely won’t, they scare me.”

“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.