#parisedge

Michael Olise x f! reader

masterlist

:: a late night game of fc26 turns soft when he'd rather lose than to stop playing with you

"this doesn't even make sense" you mumble, controller still in hand as the final whistle blows.

Michael leans back on the couch beside you, holding back his smile gazing at you. "It does make sense, you just lost."

You turn your head slowly, annoyed at his comment. "No I didn't lose, you just cheated."

He let's out a quiet laugh before shaking his head softly. "Right, the games against you specifically."

"Correct." You say instantly, before crossing your arms in disappointment while still holding the controller. "I'm done, I don't even wanna play anymore."

He glances over at you for a second. He could argue, prove his point, or annoy you about it for the next ten minutes.

But instead he let's out a sigh. "Okay."

You blink, thrown off. "Okay?"

"Yea, we can stop" he shrugs pushing his controller away. He notices your glance before explaining himself. "What? You said you didn't want to continue."

You huff, shifting a little. "Well yea, this game is annoying."

"Mhm." He nods seriously. "Definitely not because you lost."

You turn to him "Oh my God."

He smiles a little at that, just watching you for a second before leaning forward and grabbing the controller.

"One more" he says casually. "If you win, I'll admit you're better than me."

You hesitate slightly before accepting. "Fine, last one."

As the match starts, and you hear the familiar whistle blow you're officially locked in. More focused and ready to win.

He notices and slowly eases up. A missed takle here, a delayed pass there, nothing to obvious, nothing you'd catch.

Finally you win. "Yes! Did you see that?"

He nods biting back a grin. "Yea, nice."

Suddenly after that, you win the next few matches. You're talking more, hitting his arm whenever the ref calls something stupid, and overall you're having an amazing time.

As the matches go on, Michael just laughs, but his eyes drift toward you more than the screen.

Because this is what he wanted, not to win the game, but to have more time to spend with you.

Just you staying close to him, hearing your laughs, and watching you enjoy yourself with him.

After a while your voice gets softer, reaction time gets slower, and your missing things you would usually get.

"Hey." he says quietly.

"Mhm?" You mumble barely looking away from the screen.

"You're tired."

"I'm not." you say immediately, even as you blink slower.

he pauses the game.

you groan softly. "why’d you pause it?"

he turns slightly toward you. "because you’re falling asleep mid-match."

you frown, trying to focus. "i’m fine."

he reaches over, gently taking the controller from your hands. This time, you don’t even resist.

"You're still gonna play aren't you"

"One more.." He says

"Thats a lie."

he leans closer, just slightly, his voice softer now. "this time i mean it."

you don’t look convinced so he presses a quick kiss to your lips.

"Go." He murmurs.

And somehow, "Just one more game." Turned into "Just a few more."

wow i absolutely love this request! 👀

SET

Michael Olise x f! reader

masterlist

:: he's never the type to share his feelings, but somehow always chooses the perfect set for you.

It starts off as a joke

"Pick one." You say, sliding your phone across the table in his direction, a pinterest board full of nail designs are pulled up.

He barley notices at first still focused on whatever he was doing.

"You pick." He mumbles without looking.

"No," you shake your head, pushing it closer.

"You always pick wrong."

he looks up at you, brows narrowing together slightly. "Wrong?"

"Yeah," you shrug, a smirk appearing on your lips. "You don’t know the difference between chrome and gel half the time."

he leans back in his chair, studying you now instead of the screen. “I do.”

"You literally called french tips ‘boring’ last time."

"they are boring."

you stare at him. “you’re so annoying.” you mutter.

Michael finally pays attention smiling slightly, pulling the phone towards himself. He takes his time, not rushing, focusing carefully on what designs he likes and pausing on certain ones.

"Why are you thinking so hard?" you ask.

"I'm not."

"You are."

He ignores you as he keeps looking trying to find one that would look good on you.

you roll your eyes, leaning back. "It’s not that serious, you know."

“I know.”

Then finally, he taps one as he hands your phone back. "That one."

You glance down. It's not what you expected. It’s softer. cleaner. a color you don’t usually pick, with tiny details you almost would’ve skipped over.

".. Really?" You ask.

he shrugs, "Yea."

"I don’t know," he says, looking away now. "it just looks like you."

You try holding back a smile, as you calmly play it off. "Okay."

After that, it becomes a thing. Everytime you book a nail appointment, he decides to choose what you get.

He always chooses something you end up loving more than what you would’ve picked yourself, and he always watches when you come back with them done.

He doesn’t make a big deal out of it, doesn’t grab your hands dramatically or compliment you right away.

But he definitely notices.

"You like them?" you ask once, casually.

He hums. "Yeah."

"You say that every time."

"Because they’re good every time."

"Because you pick them every time."

he glances at you, something unreadable for a second.

"…Exactly."