on est live?!

a dixheuresdix production.

masterlist.

yn ln, 20.

model.

public @ynln.

spam none.

“there’s no universe in which i'd date you.”

désiré doué, 21.

footballer.

public @desire.doue.

spam none.

“why are you acting like nothing happened between us?”

⤷ ゛masterlist ˎˊ˗

michael olise x f!reader.

dating.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: he's not very clingy but when he is, it's exhausting because he keeps kissing you too much until you have swollen lips.

michael olise x f!reader

in which . . . she tweets on him with her secret account while being a famous model.

< previous chapter | author's note >

yn.ln

liked my m.olise and 455k others.

yn.ln oh wow 🙊

@user1: EXCUSE ME?????????

@m.olise ❤️

@user2: HOLD ON

@user3: OH WOW???

@user4: oh they’re dating?

@user5: THE TAG ON THE SECOND PHOTO?????????

@user6: i just dropped my phone

@user7: nobody move

@user8: yn soft launching was not on my 2026 bingo card

@user9: the hand placement in photo 2 omfg

@user10: i’m actually screaming

@user11: michael using a heart emoji IT'S HISTORIC

@user12: THIS MAN DOES NOT COMMENT

↳ @user13: he barely even likes posts 😭

↳ @user14: exactly this is crazy

@user15: wait because didn’t he like one of her posts weeks ago and everyone lost their minds

↳ @user16: and now THIS?!?!

@user17: they’re so private wtf???

@user18: the second photo is just casually here

↳ @user19: CASUALLY??? that’s literally a hard launch

@user20: am i dreaming hello???

@user21: nobody talking about how cute the first picture is

@user22: she’s glowing lately i’m crying

@user23: okay but michael commenting a heart is crazy

@user24: that’s exactly his style i'm crying

@user25: man????? what are you doing here?!

@user26:good luck on twitter

@user27: somewhere @whosme is fighting for her life

↳ @user28: STOPPPPP

↳ @user29: ARE YOU DUMB SHE IS WHOSME LOOK AT THE CAPTION

↳ @user30: u idiot that's not her!!!

@user31: michael finally beating the “doesn’t know women exist” allegations i'm proud of him

@user32: i used to pray for times like these

@user33: this is the most public thing he’s ever done

@user34: pic 2 belongs in a museum

↳ @user35: i'm shocked

↳ @user36: same same

@user37: yn said “here damn”

↳ @user38: and michael immediately appeared in the comments 😭

↳ @user39: HE WAS WAITING

↳ @user40: fastest comment of his life

@user41: imagine being so pretty your boyfriend publicly comments

↳ @user42: boyfriend???

↳ @user43: let’s call a spade a spade

@user44: he was tagged and only commented a heart wtf where's the declaration?!

@user45: my michael 💔💔

@user46: if they break up i will never recover

↳ @user47: why would you even say that

↳ @user48: lmaooo real

@user49: no because i’m obsessed with how lowkey this is

@user50: soft launch of the century honestly

END.

Eternal Flame

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

By Saturday afternoon, Michael found himself grateful for the familiarity of football. Over the past few weeks, his life had become divided into two completely separate worlds. One consisted of lawyers, timelines, legal strategy and questions he was forced to answer repeatedly. The other was football, training sessions, match preparation, tactical meetings and the routine he had followed for years. Out of the two, football was by far the easier place to exist.

But everything surrounding it remained familiar.Training schedules, team meetings, match preparation, the same dressing room he’d walked into hundreds of times before, the same teammates discussing tactics, joking around, arguing over music choices and making predictions about the afternoon’s game. It was normal. And after weeks of legal meetings, timelines, evidence files and media speculation, normal felt surprisingly refreshing.

As Michael stepped into Bayern’s dressing room before kick-off, nobody looked at him differently. Nobody whispered, nobody asked uncomfortable questions and most importantly nobody mentioned Fati. In fact, nobody knew.

The case existed in an entirely separate part of his life. A world that began when he walked into Y/N’s office and disappeared the moment he stepped onto a football pitch. For ninety minutes there were no allegations, only football, and that’s how Michael preferred it.

The atmosphere before the match against Mainz was relaxed but focused. Bayern sat comfortably near the top of the table, but complacency wasn’t something their manager tolerated. The team meeting that morning had been full of reminders about intensity, concentration and avoiding unnecessary mistakes.

The Mewa Arena felt exactly as it always did on an away match day. Across the room Harry Kane was discussing set pieces with a coach. Everything felt ordinary and Michael found himself appreciating that more than usual. Mainz weren’t expected to win in which, according to the coaching staff made them dangerous. Football had a habit of punishing teams who underestimated opponents.

As the players walked out of the tunnel the stadium erupted into noise. Thousands of supporters filled the stands a sea of colours mainly red and white stretching across the arena. Michael glanced around briefly as the teams lined up. This was the world people associated him with. Not lawyers or courtrooms or legal disputes, just football.

The referee’s whistle blew. The match began. Unfortunately for Bayern, so did Mainz.

From the opening minutes, the away side played with an energy that immediately caused problems. Every loose ball was contested. Every challenge was followed through. Mainz took over as the fierce and brave home team who were dominating the first half so far.

The first warning sign came after ten minutes, the second came five minutes later and in the fifteenth minute, Mainz found their breakthrough. A corner swung into the box created chaos in Bayern’s defence. The ball bounced between several players before eventually falling kindly to Dominik Kohr, making action to the first half of the game as he was already the first goal scorer of today’s match, his finish was instinctive and powerful.

1-0.

The stadium erupted and Michael immediately turned and jogged back towards the halfway line. Annoying but not disastrous. There was plenty of football left, after all it was only the 15th minute, at least that’s what he told himself.

Fourteen minutes later things became worse…

Mainz broke quickly down the left side before cutting the ball back towards Paul Nebel. The midfielder took one touch and drove a low effort into the corner.

2-0.

Michael stared at the scoreboard, only twenty-nine minutes played so far with Bayern only goals behind. Around him Bayern players exchanged frustrated looks. This wasn’t part of the plan. He thought. Wait a minute, is it me? Am I the problem? Is it because I’ve been too hooked up on the court case that I’ve suddenly forgot how to kick a ball? He shook his head to snap out of his thoughts.

Football rarely cared about plans, the remainder of the first half became increasingly frustrating. Bayern dominated possession but struggled to create clear opportunities. Every attack seemed to break down at the final moment.

Then, right before halftime, disaster struck again. Mainz counterattacked from a Bayern corner with the move happening quickly. Too quickly. An assist slipped a pass through to Silvan Becker who calmly finished past the goalkeeper.

3-0 to Mainz.

The stadium exploded once more. Fans erupted with happiness and content to express their proudness for the winning home team.

Meanwhile, Michael stood frozen for a moment. Three goals. Three. How were we suppose to comeback?

The referee’s whistle for halftime arrived shortly afterwards. Bayern walked off the pitch to scattered boos from their travelling supporters.

Inside the dressing room the atmosphere was tense. Nobody needed reminding how bad the scoreline looked.

Vincent Kompany’s frustration was obvious, however beneath the anger was belief because despite everything forty-five minutes remained and bayern had too much quality to simply accept defeat.

The number 3-0 seemed almost impossible considering how the first half had unfolded. Boots scraped against the floor as players returned to their seats. A few stared down at the ground. Others pulled at their socks or reached for water bottles without saying a word. Michael sat near the corner of the room, elbows resting on his knees as he replayed the half in his head. Mistakes.Too many mistakes.

Across from him, Jamal Musiala looked equally frustrated. Harry Kane sat with a towel draped around his shoulders, breathing heavily.Nobody spoke as the silence stretched until the dressing room door opened.

Vincent Kompany stepped inside but he didn’t slam the door nor did he shout. In fact, his calmness was what immediately drew everyone’s attention. The manager stood in the centre of the room for a moment, looking at each player individually before finally speaking.

“Look at me.” The room obeyed instantly Kompany folded his arms. “Three goals.His voice remained steady. “That’s what separates us from them right now.”

Nobody interrupted. “Not effort.” He pointed towards the pitch outside. “Not talent. Another pause. “Three goals.” The manager slowly walked across the room. “I’ve been in football long enough to know what happens in situations like this.” His gaze moved between players. “Some teams accept it. Silence. “Some teams start feeling sorry for themselves.” More silence. “Some teams walk back out there already defeated.” He shook his head. “That’s not us.” The words landed heavily.

Kompany stopped directly in front of the tactical board. “I don’t care about the score.”Several players looked up. The statement sounded ridiculous of course the score mattered but Kompany continued before anyone could question it. “What I care about is the next forty-five minutes.” His voice grew firmer. “The next pass.” The board. “The next tackle.” The players.“The next run.” Then finally:“The next goal.”

Michael felt something shift inside the room. Not confidence exactly but belief, hope even, knowing he can prove himself wrong, prove himself he can be the best to his ability.

Kompany pointed towards the Bayern badge on his training top. “You think this match is over?” Nobody answered. “Good.” Because if anyone did think that, they probably wouldn’t have lasted long at Bayern. The manager took a step forward. “One goal changes everything.” His eyes settled briefly on Michael. Then Musiala. Then Kane. “One.” The room remained completely still. “Get one goal and this stadium becomes nervous. Another pause.“Get two goals and they start panicking.” Now the players were listening differently leaning forward and focused. “Get three and suddenly all the pressure is on them.”

For the first time all afternoon, Michael could actually picture it. The possibility of making a comeback with the momentum shifting, Kompany nodded slowly. “You don’t need three goals right now.” His voice lowered.“You need one.”

The simplicity of it made sense. Nobody was asking them to win the game immediately. Just take the next step, then the next, then the next.

The manager looked around the room one final time. “I’ve seen players in this room do things much harder than coming back from three goals.” His expression hardened. “So stop acting like the match is finished.”

A few players smiled and some others at up straighter. The energy was changingslowly but undeniably, Kompany clapped his hands once. “Forty-five minutes.” The room echoed with the sharp sound. “Show me who you are.”

And for the first time since Mainz’s third goal hit the back of the net, Michael found himself wanting to get back onto the pitch. Not because he believed they would win but because he believed they still could.

There was a difference and sometimes in football that difference was everything.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

The second half began with greater urgency. More feelings of interest with an increase in rapid movements with more purpose, finally, Bayern looked like Bayern.

The breakthrough arrived in the fifty-third minute. A quick passing sequence opened space near the edge of the box. Nicolas Jackson reacted first, driving a powerful shot beyond the goalkeeper.

3-1.

It wanst enough but it was most certainly a good start. The goal changed the momentum completely. Suddenly Mainz looked nervous. The crowd of the home team sounded less confident and Bayern sensed this as an opportunity, Michael felt it too.

Football had momentum swings that were almost impossible to explain, you simply recognised them when they happened. The game was turning. For twenty minutes Bayern pushed relentlessly with wave after wave of attacks forced Mainz deeper into their own half.

Then came the moment. The seventy-third minute. Laimer collected possession in midfield before sliding a perfectly weighted pass into space, Michael saw the gap instantly. His first touch carried him beyond the defender. The second pushed the ball into shooting range.

Everything slowed, there was one defender, one goalie and one terrific opportunity. Michael struck through the ball cleanly. The shot flew low into the far corner.

Goal.

3-2.

His fists clenched automatically as adrenaline surged through him with the away supporters erupted. Teammates surrounded him almost immediately. Cheering, screaming and jumping were certainly movements witnessed with the Bayern team. It was currently 3-2, they still had hope, a good chance even to equalise the final score, or potentially even to win this match once and for all.

For the first time all evening Bayern truly believed. As Michael jogged back towards the centre circle his heartbeat thundered in his ears.

3-2.

Game on.

The equaliser arrived seven minutes later.Musiala, oh course it was Musiala… assisted by Olise!!! The attacking midfielder danced through a crowded penalty area before calmly slotting home.

3-3.

The comeback was complete… or least for now. Mainz looked stunned as Bayern looked relentless. The difference between the two sides had completely reversed. What had seemed impossible thirty minutes earlier suddenly felt inevitable.

Bayern Fans were screaming and kicking, proud scarfs of red and white, presenting Bayern this time waved in the air commemorating such a hectic game yet a spectacular display the Bayern team out on for their fans. It’s now or never to win this once and for all.

Then came the winner. Eighty-third minute. A dangerous cross found Harry Kane inside the penalty area. Of course it was Harry. The striker needed only one touch. The net rippled.

4-3.

Complete chaos erupted. Bayern players sprinted towards the corner flag. Supporters roared the bench with the substitutes emptied as they all ran towards the on field players to celebrate such a chaotic game they were able to make a comeback in.

Michael found himself laughing as teammates piled onto one another in celebration.From three goals down to 4-3 ahead. Football was ridiculous sometimes and that was precisely why people loved it.

When the final whistle eventually arrived, Bayern players collapsed onto the pitch in relief. It hadn’t been pretty and It certainly hadn’t been comfortable but after all it was three points.

As Michael applauded the travelling supporters his thoughts briefly drifted elsewhere. To another world entirely: A world filled with legal documents, timelines and strategy meetings. A world where Y/N was probably still reviewing files long after normal working hours. The thought surprised him because for most of the afternoon, he hadn’t thought about the case at all. Not once and maybe that was exactly why football mattered so much.

It gave him somewhere to escape it’s like a place where nothing else existed, just having the ball and the game and the ninety minutes of freedom. For now the legal battle could wait until Monday but tonight was simply a footballer.

And Bayern had just completed one hell of a comeback.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

The first meeting had been tense, the second had been productive, the third had taken place on a park bench beneath a grey sky. And somehow, despite the circumstances that had brought them together, each meeting had felt slightly easier than the last. Not because the case itself was becoming easier, if anything, it was becoming more complicated, because Y/N had a way of making every problem feel manageable.

Michael arrived a few minutes early, as he usually did. By now, the route to Y/N’s office had become familiar enough that he no longer needed the receptionist’s directions. The corridor was quiet, most of the morning staff already settled behind desks and computer screens. He slowed as he approached, hearing the sound of a conversation taking place inside. As he reached the open doorway, he found Y/N seated behind her desk, a phone pressed to her ear while she scribbled notes across a legal pad. She looked up briefly, noticing him immediately, and a small smile appeared before she returned her attention to the conversation.

He noticed something different about that smile, one that hadn’t been there during their first meeting. She held up a finger, silently asking him to wait. Michael nodded and took a seat.

“…Yes, I’ll let him know,” she was saying into the phone. “No, I agree. That’s probably the best approach.” A brief pause then her smile widened slightly. “I know.” Another pause. “Alright. Speak later.”

The call ended, Y/N placed the phone down and leaned back in her chair. “I was just talking to your agent.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Good things, I hope.”

A hint of amusement flashed across her face “Maybe.”

“That’s concerning.”

“It should be.”

The response earned a quiet laugh from him, It wasn’t much, just enough to lighten the atmosphere.

Y/N gathered a few papers into a tidy stack before sliding a folder onto the centre of the desk. The movement immediately signalled a transition back to business. Still, the room felt different now less formal and rigid, but rather more relaxed.

The professional boundaries remained exactly where they should be, but the awkwardness that had existed during their first consultation had long since disappeared.

“How have you been?” she asked.

Michael shrugged. “Fine I suppose.” He studied her for a moment. “You?”

For a second, she looked almost surprised by the question then she smiled politely. “I’m not the client.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “No, it wasn’t.”

For reasons he couldn’t explain, Michael found himself smiling too. It was strange, a month ago they had been strangers, now sitting in her office felt oddly familiar.

Y/N opened the folder and glanced down at her notes. “There’s something important we need to discuss today.”

The shift in tone immediately caught Michael’s attention, he straightened slightly.“Okay.”

For the first time since entering the room, the case returned to the forefront of his mind. Y/N rested her hands on the desk. “You’ve asked me the same question several times since this began.”

Michael frowned. “I have?”

“Yes.” A small smile appeared.

“‘Why can’t we just do a DNA test?’”

Recognition crossed his face instantly. “Right.”

To him it seemed obvious, surely a DNA test solved everything if he wasn’t the father, the results would prove it. Simple as that. At least, that was how it sounded in his head.

Y/N looked at him for a moment before smiling.“Mr Olise.”

Michael raised an eyebrow.

“You read my mind.”

That caught him off guard. “I did?”

“Because that’s exactly what we’re discussing today.” She said as she opened the folder. Several documents sat neatly organised inside. Michael leaned forward slightly. For the next several minutes, Y/N walked him through the process. Not rushed and not overly technical. Just clear explanations delivered with the same confidence she brought to every meeting.

She explained how paternity testing worked, how samples were collected, how accredited laboratories compared genetic markers, and why DNA evidence was often considered one of the strongest forms of evidence available in family law disputes. As she spoke, Michael listened carefully. For the first time, the process actually made sense. It sounded straightforward, reliable and almost reassuring.Which only led him back to the same question:

“So why aren’t we doing it already?”

The room fell quiet not dramatically but just enough for Michael to realise there was a complication coming.

Y/N closed the file gently. “Because one thing matters more than the test itself.”

Michael waited.

“Consent.”

His brow furrowed immediately. “What do you mean?”

Y/N folded her hands together. “A DNA test isn’t something we can simply arrange without the cooperation of the relevant parties.”

Michael nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“I already know you’re willing to participate.”

“Of course I am.” There wasn’t even a second of hesitation. Why would there be? If a test could prove the truth, he wanted it done immediately.

Y/N’s expression softened slightly. “I know.”

Michael sat back. “Then what’s stopping us?”

For the first time that morning, she looked genuinely disappointed. “Miss Zahra has declined consent.”

The words landed heavily.Michael stared at her. For a moment, he thought he had misheard.

“She what?”

“She has declined.”

The frustration arrived almost instantly. It was impossible to hide. “She’s the one making the claim.” He fought

“I know.”

“And she doesn’t want to do the one thing that could prove it?”

Y/N remained calm despite the irritation creeping into his voice. Michael stood and began pacing the office. The situation made no sense. For weeks he’d been dealing with speculation, accusations and assumptions. A DNA test could end all of it. Yet somehow the one person making the allegations didn’t want to proceed. The logic escaped him entirely.

Y/N allowed him a moment to process it. Then she spoke again, steadily and measured, exactly as she always was. “Mr Olise.”

He stopped pacing.

“We don’t build a defence around one piece of evidence.” Her voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. She was just being firm. “We build a defence around every piece of evidence.”

Slowly, his frustration eased. Not because the situation had improved but because she already had a plan. She always had a plan. Y/N opened another file, inside were timelines, travel records, messages, training schedules and dozens of notes compiled over the last several weeks. “We continue building our case.”

Michael looked down at the documents. Months of work, careful and detailed work. Work she had spent countless hours preparing. “We keep pushing for testing,” she continued. “But until then, we focus on everything else.”

For the first time since hearing the news, Michael felt himself relax. Not completely but enough because Y/N wasn’t worried and he knew that. And if she wasn’t worried, maybe he didn’t need to be either.

A comfortable silence settled between them. The kind that no longer felt awkward. Eventually Michael looked up. “I trust you.”

The words came out before he could stop them. Simple. Honest. Real

For the first time all morning, Y/N looked genuinely caught off guard, only for a second, then her professional composure returned. A small smile remained, however, one she couldn’t quite hide. “That’s probably a good thing.”

Michael laughed. “Probably?”

Her smile widened slightly. “Definitely.”

And for the first time since this entire ordeal had begun, the future didn’t feel quite so uncertain.

michael olise x f!reader

in which . . . she tweets on him with her secret account while being a famous model.

< previous chapter | next chapter >

you realized that a week later when you were sitting on the edge of your hotel bed, staring at the suitcase laying open on the floor.

your flight back to paris was tomorrow morning.

you had known that from the beginning, it wasn’t a surprise but it felt unfair.

m.olise: are you packed

yn.ln: no

m.olise: liar

yn.ln: okay maybe a little

m.olise: how much

yn.ln: i threw two sweaters into a suitcase and gave up

m.olise: impressive effort

yn.ln: thank you

m.olise: come downstairs

yn.ln: what

m.olise: come downstairs

yn.ln: michael it’s 10pm

m.olise: yes

yn.ln: normal people send explanations

m.olise: come downstairs

yn.ln: you’re annoying

m.olise: hurry

you found him standing outside the hotel with that stupid smile.

you immediately felt better.

“hi.”

“hi.”

“you kidnapped me.”

“technically you came willingly,” he smiled before starting to walk and you followed.

“where are we going?”

“nowhere.”

for a while, you simply walked together and eventually michael glanced at you.

“you’re sad.”

“no.”

“liar.”

“i’m not sad!”

“you’re leaving tomorrow.”

“okay, a little.”

“a little?”

“shut up.”

he smiled but it disappeared quickly because he looked sad too.

“wait, you’re sad too.”

“no.”

“that’s literally my answer.”

“yes.”

you both laughed then neither of you said anything, because it wasn’t really funny.

tomorrow you would leave but none of you liked that very much.

“i hate airports,” you muttered.

“it’s not forever, i’ll see you again.”

you nodded. “i know.”

but it still hurt because knowing something and feeling it were completely different things.

you kept walking closer together and michael stopped. you looked up and he was already looking at you.

“what?”

“just like looking at you,” a small smile appeared.

“ew, that’s disgustingly romantic.”

“i know.”

“you’re getting worse.”

“this is your fault.”

masterlist.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Michael wasn’t entirely sure when the case had stopped feeling like something he could contain. Maybe it was the moment Fati’s post went viral, or maybe it was the first time his name appeared beside a word like paternity in headlines he couldn’t control. Or maybe it was now, standing in a quiet park, wondering why his lawyer had chosen this place instead of a meeting room.

The message she sent earlier still sat in his mind. It wasn’t an instruction nor a demand, just a simple suggestion.

“Meet me somewhere quiet. It’ll help us work through the timeline properly.”

There was something about the lack of formality that unsettled him slightly. Not in a bad way, but something unfamiliar, perhaps even unusual.

Michael adjusted the sleeve of his jacket as he walked along the narrow path leading deeper into the park. The city noise faded behind him almost immediately, replaced by something softer, the wind through trees, distant birds somewhere ahead. It felt removed from everything that had been circling his life for days.

He spotted her before she saw him. Y/N was already there. Sitting on a bench near some bushes with her posture straight, composed, like she belonged there even more than the park itself. A notebook rested beside her, half-open, pen placed neatly across the page as if she had paused mid-thought rather than mid-work. Even outside the office, she looked structured, intentional and controlled. Y/N had two hot drinks besides her in a cardboard holder. The steam rose faintly into the cold air as she adjusted her grip, waiting calmly like she had arrived exactly when she intended to.

Always arriving early. He thought to himself. Of course she is, she’s a lawyer.

Michael slowed slightly as he approached, taking in the contrast between the stillness of the place and the weight of everything they were there to discuss.

She looked up before he spoke. “Mr Olise.” His name came out calm from her mouth, which somehow made him feel a little bit relaxed.

“Miss L/N,” he replied, taking the seat beside her.

When Michael reached her, she wordlessly extended one of the cups toward him.

“Here,” she said simply.

He blinked once, slightly caught off guard, before taking it. “Thanks.” The warmth of the cup hit his hands immediately, grounding him in a way he didn’t expect.

A respectful distance remained between them without either of them acknowledging it. The bench creaked slightly under his weight and for a moment neither of them spoke. The bushes besides them moving gently. “This is… different,” Michael said eventually, glancing around.

Y/N followed his gaze briefly before closing her notebook with a quiet tap. “It’s calmer,” she said. “That’s the idea.”

“You always do legal meetings in parks?”

“No,” she replied. “Just this one.”

That made him look at her properly.“Why this one?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she glanced down at the pages in her notebook as if organising her thoughts before speaking. “Because your previous meetings with me have been structured, time-limited, and full of external pressure.”

Michael leaned back slightly, watching her. “And this fixes that?”

“It reduces it.” A pause, then she added, more practically: “And it makes you less guarded.”

That earned a short, quiet laugh from him. “I’m not guarded.”

Y/N gave him a look, not judgmental, just observant. “You are.”

He didn’t argue, because a part of him already knew she was right.

The wind shifted slightly through the trees above them, carrying a soft rustle of leaves that filled the silence between their words. Y/N opened her notebook again, flipping to a fresh page.

“We’ll go through the timeline again,” she said, “but more slowly. I want to make sure nothing is misaligned.”

Michael nodded, but didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he found himself watching how focused she was. Even here away from her office, she worked the same way like she always did, with precise movements, minimal waste, complete attention to detail. Her pen moved only when necessary. Her eyes rarely drifted, It wasn’t cold, just disciplined. Yet still, there was something calmer about her today. Less rigid than before. Or maybe it was the environment affecting both of them.

“Before we start,” she said suddenly, stopping her pen mid-air.

Michael looked over.

“This isn’t mandatory, but I need clarity on something.”

“Okay.”

A brief pause followed, Y/N didn’t look at him immediately. nstead, she kept her eyes on the page as she spoke. “How are you actually coping with this?”

The question didn’t fit the setting, or maybe it fit too well. Michael shifted slightly, glancing at the lake before answering. “That depends on the day.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away, she just waited.No pressure or interruptions.

Michael exhaled slowly. “I’m used to pressure,” he said finally. “But this is different. People don’t wait for facts anymore. They decide first, then justify it later.”

Y/N listened quietly, pen resting lightly against the page but not moving. “That’s not new in cases like this,” she said eventually.

“No,” he agreed. “But it still feels strange when it’s you.”

A faint breeze moved again, brushing through the trees behind them. Y/N nodded once, acknowledging what he say. “Understood,” she said. Then, as if resetting the focus, she turned the page “Let’s continue.”

The tone shifted again, back into structure, back into work but it didn’t feel like a complete return to formality. Something had softened slightly between them. Not visible in words but in pace and in pauses. In the way questions were asked more gently than before.

The next hour passed in quiet rhythm like it has been in the last few consultations: Dates were revisited, movements mapped, miniature details reconstructed carefully, like pieces being placed back into something fragile that had been scattered too quickly.

Michael found himself speaking more freely than he expected, not because the questions were easier but because the atmosphere didn’t feel like it was trying to trap him.

At one point, Y/N paused mid-note. “You were in Munich the entire week leading up to that weekend?”

“Yes,” he replied.

She made a note, then looked up briefly. “That consistency helps.”

Michael nodded. “Good.”

A small silence followed. Not full of awkwardness but rather reflectiveness. The kind that naturally appeared when two people were thinking at the same time but not interrupting it.

Eventually, Michael spoke again. “You don’t usually take cases outside like this, do you?”

Y/N glanced up from her notebook. “No.”

“Why this one then?”

The question hung in the air for a moment longer than expected, Y/N didn’t answer immediately, her pen tapped lightly once against the page.Then she closed the notebook halfway. “Because in cases like this,” she said carefully, “people often focus too much on perception.”

Michael watched her closely now. “And you don’t?”

“I try not to.” Another pause.

The wind picked up slightly, moving across the surface of the lake and breaking the reflection of the sky into soft fragments. Y/N finally stood, tucking her notebook under her arm. “We’re done for today.”

Michael looked slightly surprised. “That’s it?”

“For now.”

He stood as well, brushing his hands lightly together. As they began walking back along the path, the distance between them remained the same as it had been on the bench respectful, unchanged. But something about the silence felt different now, it was less like absence and more about understanding forming slowly in the background.

At the edge of the park, Y/N stopped. “This worked,” she said simply.

Michael nodded. “Yeah.”

A brief pause followed, then before she turned to leave, she added: “You’ll be clearer next time.”

He raised an eyebrow slightly.“Is that a prediction?”

“It’s an observation.”

That earned a faint smile from him.“See you then,” he said.

Y/N nodded once then she left.

Michael stayed where he was for a moment, watching her disappear into the path leading back toward the city. The park felt quieter again but not empty and for reasons he couldn’t fully explain yet.

He didn’t mind that the next meeting was already being expected.

michael olise x f!reader

in which . . . she tweets on him with her secret account while being a famous model.

< previous chapter | next chapter >

m.olise: so this might actually be love this time?

yn.ln: leave me alone

i hate you

m.olise: no you don’t

yn.ln: stop reading my tweets like morning newspapers

m.olise: impossible half of them are about me (the rest about désiré)

yn.ln: allegedly (shut up)

m.olise: you’re very emotional online

yn.ln: you’re very annoying privately too

m.olise: fair fair

yn.ln: why are you bullying me instead of appreciating my vulnerability

m.olise: seeing you admit feelings publicly is funny

yn.ln: i didn’t even say your name

m.olise: didn’t have to

yn.ln: maybe it’s about someone else

m.olise: sure

yn.ln: maybe i’m in love with désiré doué now

m.olise: not funny

yn.ln: oh wow so now we’re serious again

m.olise: very

yn.ln: jealous man

m.olise: say it again and i’m blocking you for real this time

yn.ln: you’d miss me in twelve minutes

m.olise: probably

yn.ln: see 🥰

m.olise: you tweeted that tho

yn.ln: i was having emotions unfortunately

m.olise: crazy situation

yn.ln: especially after yesterday

m.olise: yeah?

yn.ln: yes

m.olise: see you tomorrow?

yn.ln: you just kissed me yesterday and already miss me this bad

m.olise: answer the question

yn.ln: needy

m.olise: no

yn.ln: yes cutie

masterlist.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

The following afternoon, Michael found himself sitting across from Y/N once again. This time, the conference table was covered in paperwork, printed messages, travel records, calendar entries and several files sat neatly stacked beside Y/N’s laptop.

She looked just as composed as she had the day before. Dark grey blazer, neatly tailored along with matching pants, her hair perfectly groomed. A pen tucked between her fingers as she reviewed the notes from their previous meeting. Her mind swarmed with dates and information of what her client had involved himself into.

Michael couldn’t help but wonder if she ever looked stressed.

“Good afternoon, Mr Olise.” She greeted with a small smile as she met his gaze.

“Afternoon.” He greeted back

Y/N glanced at her watch. “Right on time.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m a lawyer,” she replied simply. “I expect people to be late.”

Michael laughed quietly, even that sound surprised even him.

Y/N looked up briefly before returning her attention to the file. “Let’s begin.”

For the next hour, they worked through dates. A Lot of dates because Y/N wanted every detail she could get. Every single detail she urged to gather in order to win this case.

Dates when Michael had met Fati, how often they spoke, whether they communicated after seeing each other, which cities he had been in during certain weeks.

At one point, Y/N slid a document across the table. “Can you confirm where you were on the fourteenth?”

Michael looked down. “Training.”

“Morning or afternoon?”

“Both.”

“You didn’t leave Munich?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She noted, everything’s she did seemed precise. Deliberate.Nothing rushed neither careless. Michael had worked with coaches who paid less attention to detail.

“Do you always do this?” he asked suddenly.

Y/N paused, looking up to him, a puzzle replacing her normal calm expression. “Do what?”

“Treat every answer like it’s a murder investigation.”

That earned him a look. Not an annoyed one. A slightly amused one.

“I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant as an insult.”

“Good.” She highlighted another section. “Because details matter.”

Michael nodded. “I’ve noticed.”

The afternoon continued in much the same way.

Questions.

Answers.

Notes.

Occasionally Y/N would ask him to clarify something from an earlier meeting. Sometimes she’d challenge inconsistencies. Not because she thought he was lying, but because she wanted certainty. And strangely, Michael appreciated that.

Most people spent their time telling him what they thought had happened. Y/N was one of the few people actually trying to find out.

A couple of hours later, she finally closed one of the folders. “Progress.”

Michael leaned back slightly.

“That’s the first positive word you’ve said all day.”

A small laugh escaped her.

The first he’d heard from her.

“Not true.”

“It is.”

“I said good morning.”

“That doesn’t count.”

To his surprise, she rolled her eyes.

Only slightly.

But enough to make him grin. And enough to make her smile to herself.

For a second, the room felt less like a law office.

Then she opened another file and the moment disappeared. Get back to business. She thought

As expected. “Let’s move on.”

Michael sighed dramatically.

Y/N ignored him. “Phone records.”

“Of course.”

By the time they reached the final folder, nearly four hours had passed.

The daylight outside had started fading.

Most of the office had emptied and the once busy floor now sat in near silence.

Y/N rubbed her eyes briefly before continuing, the movement lasted barely a second but Michael noticed.

“You’re tired.”

She looked up.

“I’m fine.”

“You just rubbed your eyes.”

“I’ve been reading documents for four hours.”

“Exactly.”

Y/N stared at him.

“You sound concerned.”

“I’m making an observation.”

“Hm.” She returned her attention to the file. “I’m a lawyer, it’s part of the game, likewise you’re a footballer.”

Michael shook his head.

“You really don’t like being analysed, do you?”

That finally made her laugh properly.

A short laugh.

But genuine.

“You’re the client.”

“So?”

“So I’m the one asking questions.”

“Seems unfair.”

“Life is unfair.”

Michael couldn’t argue with that.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The silence wasn’t awkward.

Just comfortable.

A rare thing considering how they knew each other.

Eventually Y/N closed the final folder. “That’s enough for today.” She declared.

Michael looked relieved. “Thank God.”

“You say that now.”

“Oh?”

“We still have more to review.”

His shoulders dropped.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“How much more?”

Y/N considered it.

“A lot.”

Michael groaned.

The lawyer smiled.

Actually smiled.

For the first time since he’d met her.

And for a moment, Michael forgot about timelines. Forgot about headlines. Forgot about social media.

Because the smile looked completely different from the serious, focused woman he’d spent the afternoon with. Then it disappeared. Just as quickly as it had appeared. Professional once again.

“We’ll continue later this week.”

Michael stood, gathering his belongings.

“Same time?”

“Same time.”

He nodded.

“See you then.”

“See you then, good evening Mr Olise.”

As he headed towards the door, he paused. “Can I ask you something?”

Y/N looked up. “If it’s related to the case.”

Michael hesitated.

Then shook his head.

“Never mind.”

The corner of her mouth twitched slightly.

“Good choice.”

Michael laughed under his breath.

Then left the room.

Y/N watched the door close. The office felt strangely quiet afterward. She glanced down at the stack of notes they’d compiled. Objectively speaking, it had been a productive session. The timeline was stronger. The evidence was clearer and the case seemed to be moving in the right direction.

Yet for some reason, that wasn’t the first thing she thought about. Instead, she found herself remembering the way he’d laughed when she rolled her eyes. Shaking the thought away immediately, she returned to her work.

He was a client, nothing more.

I was his lawyer. That was the rule. She thought.

And that’s exactly how it needed to stay.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Warnings: sexual themes, stronge language, upsetting themes

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠:

𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။ ၊|• 1:05

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏꜰ ᴜꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴍᴇᴅ

ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴀ

ᴀ ᴍᴀᴛᴄʜ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴꜱ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ

ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ᴀɴ ᴇᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟ ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴜʀɴꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴜꜱ

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

She was assigned to defend him. He was supposed to be just another case. Neither of them expected how complicated that would become.

“I was his lawyer. That was the rule.”

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Michael Olise x Reader

TW: none I think

Summary: Michael tries to figure out how to fix his relationship with Y/N

a/n: one more part to go! I was supposed to post this on june 12th but i was half an hour late 😭

Michael returned home from a long day of training hoping to find Y/N and Matheo on the couch. Instead, he found the living room empty as well as the kitchen. Michael searched the house to find his son and technically ex-girlfriend, eager to hold his baby after being away from him for hours.

He saw movement through the corner of his eye and stopped to look through the glass door of his home gym. Y/N was inside doing weighted squats while Matheo napped in his swing. She immediately looked up when she heard Michael enter the room, gasping dramatically as she looked down at Matheo who giggled. “Look Matheo! Daddy’s home.” 

Michael bent over and gently picked Matheo up to kiss his forehead, smiling as the infant grinned and squirmed in his fathers embrace. Michael bounced him gently and settled him against his chest before turning his attention to Y/N who smiled at him warmly. 

“Hey, how was training?” “Good. Are you sure it’s okay for you to be doing that?” Y/N rolled her eyes at his concerned tone. “Michael, it’s been four months.” “I know but giving birth causes a lot of trauma on the body.” “I know. I was there, remember?”

Michael sighed and pulled his chain out of Matheos fist before he got the chance to put it in his mouth. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Y/N stopped and looked up at Michael with pursed lips.

“I'm okay, coach. I promise.” Michael gave her a half hearted glare before looking back down at Matheo. “Fine, but keep your feet straight when you do squats,” he instructed. 

Y/N resisted a smile as she placed the weight back on the rack. “Okay, coach. Anything else I can improve on?” “ No, I’m taking Matheo for a walk. When’s the last time he ate?” 

Y/N grabbed a heavier weight and began doing lunges. “About half an hour ago. How’s my form?” Michael's eyes scanned over her body. 

The spandex work out shorts did little to contain the extra padding she had gained in her ass and hips while pregnant and the sports bra looked like it was fighting a losing battle against her significantly larger breasts.

Michael swallowed and tore his eyes away when he felt Matheo grab his ear. “Your form is good,” he said as he took Matheo's hand and held it to prevent him from grabbing anything else. 

“We’ll be back in a little bit. Say bye to Mummy, Theo.” Y/N smiled at Matheo and waved goodbye. “Bye, Honey. Have fun with Daddy.” Michael waved Matheos hand before turning around and leaving the gym so Y/N could continue her work out. 

He couldn’t get the image of Y/N out of his mind as he packed the diaper bag and strapped Matheo into the chest carrier, one of his favorite dad purchases. It allowed him to carry Matheo while keeping his hands free, which meant that he basically traded his weighted hiking vest for a human baby. 

Michael waited until they were on the walking trail before he began talking to Matheo. He started with recounting his day before complaining about the traffic in the city, an attempt to distract himself from what was actually bothering him. 

Michael got about half way down the trail before he gave up and confessed to the babbling baby strapped to his chest.

“Your mum stresses me out, man. I don’t know what we’re doing here. I still love her but how am I supposed to tell her that if you're here?” Matheo gurgled in response, seemingly engaged in a conversation with himself. 

“If I tell her I love her she might feel the same way or she might tell me to piss off and then everything will be awkward and complicated.” Michael sighed and sat down on a log for a moment. 

“We have a good system right now and I don’t want to ruin that for you, I just- I dunno. I just want to make this work but I don't know how.”

He looked down at Matheo who wore a face of concentration as he clenched his fist. “I’m going to have to change your diaper again, ain’t I?” Michael asked, already knowing the answer. He sighed and bent down to press a kiss to the crown of Matheos head before taking off his backpack and preparing to change him.

Matheo drifted off shortly after Michael turned around and was still asleep by the time Michael walked through the back door of his home. He followed a delicious smell to the kitchen where he found his chef, Jonas. 

Michael greeted Jonas who informed him that dinner would be ready soon and that tonight’s meal was a new recipe. “Smells good, I can’t wait to try it. Have you seen Y/N?” 

“She went to the living room to pump but we talked for a little while. I’m glad to see her smile again.” “You and me both,” Michael agreed as he unstrapped Matheo from his carrier. 

Jonas smiled at the sleeping infant. “He’s precious. Do you think you’ll have another?” “Another what?” “Another baby,” Jonas clarified as he returned to the stove. 

Michael froze, completely caught off guard by the question. Matheo was, for lack of better words, an accident, so he hadn’t even considered the possibility of having another child. 

He certainly didn’t want another right now but he’d be lying if he said the idea wasn’t appealing. “Uh, I dunno. We haven't got that far yet,” Michael answered as he set the diaper bag down. “I think we’re good with just one right now.” 

Jonas chuckled and began plating their dinner. “Just one is good. I think becoming a father is one of the most fulfilling things a man can do. I can’t imagine life without my children,” Jonas said fondly.

Michael looked down at Matheo. “Yeah me neither, " he agreed quietly. Y/N stepped into the kitchen with two bottles of milk ready to be bagged and frozen and a proud smile.

“I think those lactation supplements are really helping, Jonas. I got four ounces from each side.” Jonas quietly applauded Y/N encouragingly. “I’m glad I could help.”

Y/N bagged and dated the milk before taking a seat at the island next to Michael. Matheo stirred and whined a little, making Michael sigh.

“What did I tell you? He only loves me when you're not around.” Y/N kissed her teeth and glared at Michael half heartedly as she took Matheo from his arms. 

“Don’t listen to him. Daddy’s just jealous," she whispered to Matheo, making Michael roll his eyes and bite back a smile. 

Jonas placed their plates in front of them and Y/N and Michael both thanked him before bidding him goodnight. They discussed how their day went as they ate dinner, enjoying each other's company the same way they had done before Y/N had gotten pregnant.

It reminded Michael of what their relationship was like before, cuddling on the couch and going on dates. He wondered if they could ever have that again. 

“Me and Amelia are going to a pottery class tomorrow.” “That sounds fun,” Michael mumbled as his mind drifted back to what Jonas had asked him before. 

Having another baby sounded crazy but he really wanted a little girl. Maybe they should get married first? It would be a few years before that even became a possibility for them. They didn’t even have a romantic relationship anymore and suddenly he’s day dreaming about getting mar- “Michael?”

He looked up with wide eyes as Y/N’s voice brought him back to reality. She was looking at him with a concerned expression, tilting by her head and frowning at his lack of response. 

“What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” he said quickly and cleared his throat before looking down at his plate. “Nothing, I’m just a little tired.”

“Do you want me to give him his bath so you can go to bed early?” “No, it’s alright. I got it.” Michael stood up and stacked their empty plates to take them to the kitchen.

“I’m gonna go load the dishwasher. I’ll get him ready for bed when you're done feeding him.” Y/N’s hummed in agreement, her eyes following Michael as he walked away.

Her mind drifted back that night when they hugged, when he pulled her into his lap, when they almost kissed. She wondered if he thought about it as much as she did.

If he wanted her the same way she wanted him. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N’s upcoming birthday gave him something to focus on, allowing him to think about something other than their complicated relationship.

As much as he wanted to take Y/N out on a romantic date night and shower her with gifts and affection, he knew it wasn't the right time. It felt like all of the steps they had taken towards having a romantic relationship before Matheo was born had reversed but that didn’t mean he couldn't make her feel special.

He waited for her to leave the house for another brunch with Amelia before he got to work. Michael ordered gifts for Y/N and had them wrapped neatly with a tag that said “To: Mommy From: Matheo,” on each one. That was the easy part.

The hard part was getting Matheo to cooperate. “Fuck Pinterest,” Michael grumbled as Matheo squirmed and wiggled his toes. Who knew it’d be so hard to get a clean stamp of a baby’s foot? 

Eventually Michael got Matheo to take a nap and while he was sleeping, Michael stamped his feet on a blank card. He wrote ‘I love you Mummy’ at the top and then a short and sweet note on the inside before signing it off with Matheos' name.

He finished with everything and hid it in a hallway closet just as Y/N returned with a bright smile. She picked up Matheo and snuggled him, pressing kisses to his cheeks as she greeted him. “Did you have fun?” “Yeah, I had a lot of fun. I missed my baby though.” 

Michael raised an eyebrow at her. “What about me?” Y/N sighed and pressed a kiss to his cheek, catching him off guard. 

“I missed you too, I guess."

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the morning of Y/N’s birthday arrived, Michael was glad that he was ready because Matheo sure as hell wasn't. His four month old started off his day by peeing through his diaper, his onesie, and the bassinet sheet. 

Then he attempted to escape and rolled off the changing table when Michael looked away for half a second to grab the diaper cream. Michael’s hands shot out to catch him, and he let out a sigh of relief as he pulled Matheo to his chest, then groaned when Matheo started peeing again, without his diaper on. 

Michael quickly cleaned up both himself and Matheo before dressing him into a fresh onesie with ‘I ❤ my Mommy’ written on the front. He gave him a pep talk as he carried him to Y/N’s room and made him promise not to pee on his mum on her birthday.

Michael sat on the edge of the bed and watched Y/N sleep for a moment before gently calling her name. Y/N opened her eyes and smiled when she saw Matheo, immediately reaching out to take him. “Good morning, baby.”

She laughed at his onesie. “Did Daddy change you?” “Thats a long story, don't ask. Happy birthday.” Y/N giggled and kissed Matheos cheek. “Thank you.”

“He left something for you downstairs,” Michael said casually and Y/N’s face dropped. “Did he spit up all over the couch again?” 

“No, go see.” Y/N eyed Michael suspiciously. She got out of bed and walked downstairs smiling when she saw the balloons and presents waiting for her on the kitchen counter. 

She turned around and looked at Michael with an excited expression. Michael held up his hands and shook his head. “It was all him.” 

Y/N looked down at Matheo with an amused grin. “Did you get me all these presents?” She questioned sarcastically. Matheo babbled and gnawed on his fingers in response making Y/N giggle. “Give him here so you can open them.” 

Y/N passed Matheo to Michael and began opening her gifts, excitedly thanking their babbling baby for a pair of shoes, a work out set, and various accessories.

She got to the biggest box and gasped when she saw that it contained a designer purse she'd been eyeing for months. Y/N looked over at Matheo in disbelief. “How’d you know I wanted this one?”

“I dunno. He must've looked through your phone or something,” Michael said with a shrug. Y/N gave him a suspicious squint then moved on to a pair of diamond earrings that gleamed in the sunshine from the kitchen window. 

“Oh, these are beautiful. Thank you Baby!” Michael acted equally surprised as if he hadn't picked them out himself. “Those are really nice, good job Theo.” 

Y/N giggled at his charade and reached for the final gift. She pulled the ribbon and her lips parted in awe at the heart shaped locket. Inside, she found a picture of Matheo with his name engraved. “Oh Michael… I love it.” 

Michael pointed to Matheo in correction. “Sorry, I love it Matheo.” She took the infant from his fathers arms and hugged him. “I love my gifts. Thank you, Honey.” Matheo gurgled and smiled at Y/N. 

“You’ll have to get dressed for my gift.” Y/N looked up at Michael in confusion. “It’s not as sentimental as Matheos gifts but it's still pretty good.” “What is it?”

“Whatever you want. Come on, I've got the pram already in the car. We're going shopping.” 

They spent the next few hours shopping for clothes, makeup, and anything else that she wanted. Y/N’s body had changed drastically which meant that she needed a whole new wardrobe. 

Michael was more than willing to tap his card and pay for everything she wanted, however, he began to regret his decision once he realized that he had to fit all of her new things into the trunk of his car. 

By the time they returned home and got everything inside, it was time for dinner. Jonas prepared Y/N’s favorite food and they ate and talked until it was time to get Matheo ready for bed, following the same routine that they did every night.

Y/N fed him and Michael gave him a bath while Y/N got herself ready for bed. “He’s all clean,” Michael said as he carried Matheo into Y/N’s bedroom wrapped in a Dior baby towel. 

Y/N gave him a disapproving look. “Michael, I know you did not buy him those expensive ass towels.” Michael blew a raspberry as he laid Matheo down on the bed and grabbed his lotion. “Of course I did.” 

“They're gonna be stained in a week.” “Okay, and? I’ll buy him some more. He's my son, I can buy him whatever I want.” Y/N rolled her eyes and smiled softly as she shook her head.

“I perfected his bath routine,” Michael announced proudly as he began slathering Matheo with cocoa butter.

“I lay a towel on the floor with his diaper and cream ready so he goes from the tub to the towel and then I put the diaper on and that way he doesn't piss on me while I carry him to the bedroom.” 

“Look at you, dad of the year,” Y/N said playfully. Michael side-eyed her and began wrangling their squirming baby into his pajamas.

“No I mean it,” Y/N said genuinely. “You're a really good dad.” “Better than you expected?” 

“I didn’t really know what to expect from you, Michael. I hoped that you would be a good dad but I wasn’t sure and then after I told you I was pregnant…” Michael’s jaw clenched at the reminder of how much a coward he used to be.

“But then when we worked it out, I had hope but I thought you’d be a Christmas and birthdays dad, you know? I thought you’d just pay your child support and show up every once and a while but you proved me wrong and I’m really happy you did.” Michael smiled softly at her and then looked down at Matheo.

“Me too. You're a good mum. I probably don't tell you that enough but you are. I know we didn't plan to have a baby but I don't regret it and if I had the choice to do it again, I'd still pick you.”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes and Michael gave her a look. “I'm sorry I can't help it! You can't say stuff like that and not expect me to cry,” she exclaimed as she fanned her face and tried to contain herself. 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself to not cry. “Okay, I'm good.” “You sure?” Michael teased. “I’m sure.”

Michael looked back down at Matheo whose eyelids were growing heavy and decided to change the subject before Y/N actually started crying.

“Did you have a good birthday?” “Yeah, it was great. I just don’t know how I’m gonna fit all of these clothes in my closet,” she said as she scanned over the pile of shopping bags waiting to be unpacked.

“What do you mean? Your closet is huge,” Michael said referring to the closet she had here at his house. “No, I mean the closet at my apartment.” Michaels face dropped and his heart clenched.

“You're leaving?” “Yeah. This was just temporary.”

“We- I-” Michael rubbed his hands over his face, his mind swirling with discontentment. She was right, it was just temporary. He offered to let her stay while Matheo was a new born so he could help her with recovering but now she was healed so it made sense for her to return to her own home but Michael dreaded it.

He looked over at Matheo who was sleeping soundly in his swing, his heart crumbling as he tried to accept the idea of not coming home to his baby everyday. “When?” 

“I don’t know, maybe next month. I was going to tell you about it tomorrow.” Michael nodded and looked down at the floor to hide the heartbreak in his eyes before asking the question he hoped would never need to ask.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Three days.

Three days since Fati’s post.

Three days since Michael’s phone had exploded with messages, missed calls and headlines he wished he’d never seen. And three days since his life had become a conversation for strangers on the internet.

Michael adjusted the sleeves of his jacket as he stepped into the law firm’s reception area.

The building was quiet.

Almost unnervingly quiet.

No cameras.

No reporters.

No notifications flashing across his screen.

Just polished floors, muted conversations and the occasional sound of a keyboard clicking somewhere behind the reception desk.

He preferred it that way.

“Good morning, Mr Olise.”

The receptionist smiled politely.

“Your lawyer will be with you shortly.”

Michael nodded.

“Thank you.” He muttered, his usual quiet self.

Taking a seat, he placed his phone face down on the small table beside him.

The screen lit up almost immediately.

Another notification.

Then another.

He ignored them.

At this point he could predict exactly what they would say.

Some people believed him. Some believed Fati.

Most people had already chosen a side despite knowing almost nothing.

The frustrating part wasn’t even the accusations, It was the complete lack of facts.

Nobody wanted facts, they wanted a story.

And right now he was the story.

Michael rubbed a hand across his face. He hadn’t slept much and every time he closed his eyes, his mind returned to the same questions.

How serious was this? How long would it last?

And how exactly was he supposed to prove something that wasn’t true?

“Mr Olise?”

Michael looked up as the door opened.

A woman stood in the doorway leading deeper into the office.

Wearing a professional attire, her laptop tucked neatly beneath one arm along with several folders held against her chest.

The woman who stepped inside was dressed professionally, a dark grey blouse tucked neatly into a black pencil skirt. Her hair was impeccably groomed, not a strand out of place. Everything about her appearance suggested preparation and professionalism.

She looked like someone who took her work seriously.

She looked younger than he’d expected.

Not inexperienced. Just younger.

“Please come through.”

Michael stood immediately.

As he followed her into a meeting room, he found himself noticing how confident she seemed.

Not rushed.

Not nervous.

Simply focused.

The room itself was simple.

A conference table.

Several chairs.

A large window overlooking the city.

Nothing intimidating.

Nothing dramatic.

Just business.

The woman set her files down before turning towards him.

“I’m Y/N L/N, for the meantime just call me Miss L/N.”

Michael extended a hand.

“Michael.”

Her handshake was brief and professional.

No hesitation and no sign she was impressed by who he was.

Oddly enough, he appreciated that.

Over the last few days almost every interaction had been influenced by his career.

Footballer.

Celebrity.

Headline.

Problem.

But standing across from him, Y/N didn’t seem interested in any of that.

She simply pulled out a chair and opened a file.

“Please, take a seat.”

Michael did.

For a moment there was only the sound of papers being organised. Then she looked up.

“Before we begin, I’d like to explain my role.”

Michael nodded.

“Okay.”

“My responsibility is to represent you and establish the facts surrounding this case.”

Her tone was calm and direct.

“I don’t work based on assumptions.”

She folded her hands neatly on the table.

“I work based on evidence.”

Michael found himself sitting a little straighter.

Good. He thought, that was exactly what he needed.

“Everything discussed here remains confidential.” Y/N continued. “However, for me to help you effectively, I need complete honesty and cooperation.”

“Of course.”

“No omissions.”

Michael nodded.

“Understood.”

“No details left out because they’re uncomfortable.”

“I understand.”

Her expression remained neutral.

Not cold.

Just professional.

For some reason it reminded Michael of a referee before a match.

Calm. Controlled. Focused entirely on procedure.

“Good.” She opened the first folder. “Let’s start with the basics.”

The next forty minutes passed surprisingly quickly: Questions, dates, names, messages, locations, you name it.

Every answer led to another question and every detail was written down.

Several times Michael found himself impressed by how organised she was.

Nothing escaped her attention.

A date mentioned briefly ten minutes earlier would suddenly reappear in a completely different question.

She wasn’t trying to catch him out, but she was building something, piece by piece, fact by fact.

By the end of the meeting, several pages of notes sat between them.

Y/N reviewed them carefully.

Then finally looked up.

“Based on what you’ve told me today, our next step is constructing a complete timeline.”

Michael nodded. “Whatever you need.”

She made another note. “We’ll go through every relevant interaction.”

“Fine.”

His answers, short and snappy. She thought.

“The more accurate the timeline, the stronger our position.”

Michael released a slow breath.

For the first time since the post, things felt manageable.

Still difficult.

Still stressful.

But manageable.

There was finally a process, a plan.

Something more useful than endless speculation online.

Y/N closed the folder. “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

Michael stood. “So that’s it?”

A faint smile touched her lips.“The first meeting usually is.”

Something about that answer made him laugh quietly. The first genuine laugh he’d managed all week.

Y/N looked mildly surprised by it. The timid Frenchman who keeps to himself cracking a small smile in a time like this. She thought. Good, he’s comfortable.

Only for a second, then her professional expression returned. “Try not to read too much online tonight.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Is that legal advice?”

“It’s practical advice.”

He considered that.

“Fair enough.”

Gathering his things, he moved towards the door. Before leaving, he glanced back.

“Thank you.”

Y/N paused. Then gave a small nod.

“Don’t thank me yet, Mr Olise.”

Her attention had already returned to the file. “The work starts now.”

As Michael stepped back into the corridor, he realised something. For the first time since Fati’s post, he felt slightly lighter.

Not because the problem was gone. It wasn’t and he knew it was nowhere near close.

But because somebody had finally stopped looking at headlines long enough to focus on the truth.

And right now, that felt like a victory.