Michael Kaiser X Reader - Tumblr Posts - Page 4

-ᴋɪꜱꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴛᴜᴘɪᴅ-

pairings: M. Kaiser x male! reader

warning(s): Kaiser, a teensy bit of angst, fluff, enemies to lovers (kinda), a little bit of cursing

a/n: this is pretty much self indulgent. i thought of a tall reader when i was writing it, although i’m not as tall as Kaiser lol. the Kaiser brain rot is real T_T this looked way better in my head

wc: 2.4k

!not proofread!

nobody infuriated you more than Michael fucking Kaiser.

not only did he pretend to be superior to you; he looked down on every walking, talking, living creature. he never failed to make your blood boil, especially, when he spoke to you like you were nothing more than a peasant, born to serve him. you were a calm, level-headed person; but even you found it difficult not to punch that shitty smile off his face.

you felt like you had won the lottery at having the worst luck. you just so happened to live in the same building as him; just on different floors. you couldn't count the number of times you had taken the stairs to your apartment floor, just so you won't run into him at the elevator, or when you would parked your car far from your block, just so you wouldn't run into him in the morning when he was leaving for practice.

---

your hands were shaking, the rational part of your brain begging you to not throw a punch at the man standing before you. taking a deep breath in, you sighed. he deserves that punch, but you were better than this. better than him. swiftly turning away from him, you continued to search for your favorite cereal.

you had the misfortune of running into him during your monthly grocery shopping. and now he wouldn't leave you alone. why was he even here? it wasn't like he was buying anything. at least not anymore. he had left the shopping cart in the milk aisle when he spotted you. seriously? wasn't this dude some famous soccer player? shouldn't he be at, i don't know, practice or something?

"so? what do you say?" he asks with a charming smile plastered on his face. "no," you replied without looking his way. what was he asking you anyway? you really weren't listening to him. you missed the way his smile dropped a little, but he was determined to get you to come. if Michael Kaiser was anything, it was stubborn.

"why not? i'm even giving you the vip tickets," he said in a way that almost sounded like a whine. you turned around to face him and almost regretted it when you saw his smile widen a bit. you blinked at him, confused out of your mind. tickets? to what? a game? was he inviting you to watch his game?

"tickets to what?" you questioned him with a small tilt of your head. and the worst part? you looked genuinely confused. Kaiser visibly deflated when he realized you weren't paying attention to him. he regained his posture quickly before bobbing his head up and down in a form of a nod, "it's next week. saturday. and you have to come."

taking yet another deep breath, you turned around, dragging your cart with you. was this guy seriously ordering you to come to his game? even the slightest of a chance of you going to his game was just yeeted out of the top floor of the tallest building.

"hm? (name)?" and he had the audacity to follow you around like a puppy after all that. he put his hand on top of your shoulder, trying to turn you to look at him. your hand was gripping the cart like your life depended on it. well, technically a life did depend on it. not yours, but Kaiser's. you swear you were so close to killing him.

you swatted his hand away, quite harshly, leaving him behind. he watched your back, before you turned to a different aisle, completely disappearing from his sight. looking down at his hand, Kaiser could see the red mark left behind. it slowly was beginning to sting too. ignoring the pain, he stuffed his hands in his pants. he walked out of the grocery store, with a frown on his face. the things he came to buy were long forgotten. a single question lingering in his mind, did you really hate him that much?

---

days went by and it had been suspiciously quiet all week. it almost felt too good to be true. it was finally saturday. the weekend was here. phew, finally you can relax now. no more dealing with people. you came back from your morning run to see a white envelope tucked in your gate. gently tearing it, you looked at the contents inside of it. they were tickets to a soccer game. Bastard München vs PXG?

you searched your brain to figure out why that name sounded so familiar. ah-ha! you remembered it now. bastard münchen was the team your annoying neighbor played for. as for the other...? you had no idea who they were. 

looking around the corridor, you didn't see him there. he probably dropped this off when you went for your run. shrugging, you went inside your house. tossing it on your dining table, you went to take a long, and a very much-needed shower.

---

catching up on the sleep you missed during the week was probably your favorite way to spend your saturdays. looking at the time, you realized you had slept for longer than you intended to. it was already evening. you went to your kitchen to get yourself a drink when you noticed the tickets Kaiser so graciously dropped off this morning. you had honestly forgotten about it.

checking the time again, you realized that the game had already started a few minutes ago. it wasn't every day that you get vip tickets to a game. and it would honestly be a waste not to use those tickets. changing into something comfortable yet stylish, you drove off to where the game was being held. (you got your drink on the way.)

---

it took you longer than you had expected to get here. the traffic was loud and seemed to never end. you almost regretted leaving the comforts of your cozy home. now sitting comfortably in the chair, you were honestly impressed at the view you had of the field. these were some good ass seats.

it seemed like the second half had just started. the score was 3-2 in favor of PXG. a small frown unconsciously tugged at your features. was Kaiser losing? the match continued like usual. you watched the game like a hawk, your eyes never leaving the field. Kaiser had just scored a goal. you let out a whistle at that. honestly, you were impressed. he scored that goal faster than you could even comprehend what was happening.

as much as he didn't want to, Kaiser knew he had an image to keep up. so forcing himself to turn towards the stands, he plastered on a fake smile, even throwing a small wave toward the people watching him. his eyes drifted towards the vip section, more specifically, towards the seats he had booked for you.

he was really hoping you would come to his game. it would've meant a lot to him. but every time he looked that way, you weren't there. his mood continued to deplete the longer the game went on. he could barely focus on the game. even the coach had warned him that if he wasn't going to score soon, he'll be benched. and that's why he almost couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you, sitting in the seat he booked especially for you.

he didn't realize his smile switched from a fake to a genuine one. he continued to stare your way with a bashful smile stretched across his pretty features. his intense stare made you feel a bit awkward, as you tried to hide yourself from him by lowering yourself onto the seat a bit. reluctantly, you gave him a stiff wave, and that seemed to have brought him out of whatever dreamland he was stuck in. Kaiser doesn't think his cheeks have ever hurt from smiling so damn much.

---

the game had ended with Bastard München winning. you decided to wait for the stadium to clear a bit. because there was no way you were going to be smashed between so many people. like, be fucking for real; shouldn't they have made a separate exit for the vip's? 

after god knows how long you were able to see the other side of the exit. you dragged your feet all the way toward the exit. you were probably one of the last spectators remaining in the building.

"(NAME)!" turning around just in time to catch a flying body, you stumbled upon the contact, barely able to keep yourself from falling on the floor. looking down slightly, you could see Kaiser with an annoyingly cute smile plastered on his face, looking up at you. he looked a lot like a happy puppy to you. you were sure his tail would have been wagging aggressively, if he had one.

"you came!" he exclaimed in a cheerful voice, still clinging to you. it looked like he still had the excitement left in him from the game. "i was bored," you said in a tone that matched your words. still, Kaiser didn't seem to get disheartened by it. whatever the reason was, you still came to watch him.

"let go of me now," you grumbled. Kaiser gave you a closed eye smile. 13 seconds. that's how long you let him hug you. it was a new record!

---

ever since that day, you had been seeing more of him. he still annoys you, but it's been bearable. you would never admit it, to him or yourself, but his presence has grown on you, and you even liked hanging out with him sometimes. only when he wasn’t being a menace though.

you sipped on the last bits of your favorite drink before throwing it away in the trash bin you came across. you were walking around the park in your neighborhood with the Michael Kaiser himself. it was almost midnight. you don't even know why you’re out this late. but when Michael knocked on your door and practically begged you to go on a walk with him, you had no choice but to do so.

it was a comfortable silence between you two. you liked it. Michael was still sipping on his drink, looking around the lamp-lit streets surrounding the both of you.

there’s another thing you've grown to like; his eyes. they were the prettiest shade of blue and when light reflected off of them, you would be hypnotized, to say the least.

a hand holding yours caught your attention, and you were dragged towards your right. "come on! we're going this way," he said with a smile adorning his features. even after dragging you on the path he desired, he didn't let go of your hand. you didn't complain.

he was walking a few steps ahead of you; his hand, now intertwined with yours, dragging you along. he looked breathtaking. quite literally. your breath hitched for a second there, before you recollected your thoughts and continued to be dragged around by him.

"a penny for your thoughts?" his calm voice brought you out of your daze. your eyes met his and he gave you a smile. "don't worry about it," you dismissed it quickly, and continued walking, this time dragging him behind you. he smiled at your intertwined hands and gave them a small squeeze.

---

"it's getting late. we should get going," you said looking at the sky. even though there weren't as many stars, because of the city lights and pollution, you could still see some of the stars that managed to shine through. after hearing no response, you looked at Michael from the corner of your eyes. you raised a brow at him. why was he looking at you like that? did you have something on your face? 

"what are you thinking about?" you asked the blond man in front of you. 

"it's not fair (name)," he replied still looking at you. you let out a confused sound at his weird answer. he chuckled at your adorable expression, "i'm just saying, that it's not fair how good you look doing the simplest of things. it's kinda annoying." what he said was true, kind of. just now when you were gazing at the sky, he couldn't help but stare at you, the light from the surroundings made you look other-worldly, ethereal.

the tip of your ears burned at hearing the sudden compliment from him. did that even count as a compliment? you tried to scowl but couldn't help but laugh at the irony. you thought the same thing as him. yes, you used to despise him, dare you say, even hate him. but the more time you spent with him, the lesser you hated him. how does that even work? 

"what?" Michael asked with a confused expression. he was half expecting you to shut him out, walk away from him, anything but that. "you know what's actually annoying?" you asked with a small smile, amusement in your eyes. Michael loved all the attention you were giving him in that moment, that he didn't even register your question. "what?" he asks after realizing you were still waiting for his answer.

"you"

he pouted at your answer. way to ruin the moment (name), he thought. you let out another laugh seeing his pout, it wasn't every day that you would see the German pouting. holding his chin between your fingers, you turned his face towards yours. "wanna know why?" you asked the blond. your fingers were still grasping his chin, Michael noted. he gave a short nod. honestly, he didn't want to know. who would wanna know that the man you've grown to like thought you were annoying? get some common sense (name)! but the look in your eyes compelled him to agree.

"because i don't know what i wanna do when i’m with you," you sighed. Michael was utterly and completely confused. what did you even mean? your hand left his chin to cup his face. running your thumb over his cheekbones, you couldn't stop the smile that was threatening to break out. "you confuse me so much. i don't know if i wanna punch you in the face or kiss you stupid," you answered, observing his face for any signs of discomfort. 

you watched his eyes widen. his face felt warmer than before. the emperor looked at a loss of words; when was the last time that happened? you mused to yourself. 

"then do it." you looked at him, waiting to see if he was going to say anything else, "kiss me stupid (name)."

this was probably going to be the only time you would obey his orders. leaning towards him, you let your lips hover over his, "gladly." 

Blue Lock Nickname Headcannons

What they would call you affectionately

THIS IS MEANT FOR MALE/MASC READERS, SO FEM ALIGNED DNI, blank blogs please also DNI

Oliver Aiku: He keeps it pretty simple, he calls you babe or baby most of the time but when he’s purposely teasing you, he likes to use pretty boy and sexy

Michael Kaiser: He likes to rizz you up by calling you prince or my king/emperor, but other times he goes for honey or sweetheart

Itoshi Rin: When in public, he just sticks to your name but when it’s just the two of you, he calls you sweetheart, honey and baby

Bachira Meguru: He absolutely adores the nickname bee or my little bee for you. He also calls you honey and sweetie (cuz he’s a sweetheart)

Isagi Yoichi: Most of the time he calls you babe or baby, but occasionally he calls you pretty boy and handsome

Shidou Ryusei: He calls you sexy and hottie all the time, even in public. But he reserves the nickname pretty boy for when the two of you are alone

Reblogs are strongly encouraged and greatly appreciated

ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ

pairing. michael kaiser x gn!reader

genre. college AU | older brother's bestfriend | fake dating (@/saekkas req!) | angry confession (anon req)

content/warnings. 5k+ wc (part 1/3) | reader is a sophomore while kaiser is a senior | reader is ness's younger sibling | reader has little to no college friends | reader hates kaiser's guts | PROTECTIVE kaiser lol | toxic uni gossip culture | pet names (dollface) & a lot of profanity (it's kaiser) | minimal proofread

summary: as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.

💭 masterlist | next part

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”

Your ears were ringing.

After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.

Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.

Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.

Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.

You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending).  You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.

“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.

“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”

“We?”

“Kaiser is downstairs.”

Of course, he is. 

Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.

You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge. 

If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.

“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.

“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”

In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”

“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”

“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”

Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.

Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”

“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.

“Fuck off.” 

“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.

You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.

You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.

You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.

Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.

If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.

Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.

“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.

“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.

“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”

Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.

“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.

Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”

“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.

Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.

Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.

Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.

But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.

“I swear to god this better be important–”

“Get ready,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.

Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.

“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.

You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.

It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.

It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.

“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”

He’s taking me to it? “Why?”

Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.

“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.

You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face. 

The first one today.

Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.

But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.

You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.

And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.

“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.

Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?

“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”

Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.

Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.

“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”

“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate. 

Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.

Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.

It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.

You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”

Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”

Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?” 

“Call me by my name.”

“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”

“The one you used to call me.”

Mikka.

It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.

You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

“That’s… long.”

“What?”

“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”

“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.

“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.

He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.

“Same thing.”

“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”

“Your point?” you countered.

“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.

“He was nice to me!”

“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”

You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.

“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.

Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.

“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”

“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap.  Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.

“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”

“And you? Are you a gentleman?”

Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.

Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.

When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”

He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Especially not one, doll.”

“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.

Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.

The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage. 

Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.

Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.

He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.

“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.

“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected. 

From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.

After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.

You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.

Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.

As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).

“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.

“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”

Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”

You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.

But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.

“You should be flattered.”

Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”

“Accepted.”

If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.

At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning. 

You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”

The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”

“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”

“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.

If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.

Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.

Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.

“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”

If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.

You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.

Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”

“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted. 

“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”

You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”

“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.

Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.

“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.

“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.” 

“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.

Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.

You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.

“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.

Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea. 

Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?” 

Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty. 

And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.

But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it. 

If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.

Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.

“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.” 

Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.

You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.

“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.

“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”

“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”

“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.

“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”

“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.

Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.

“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”

What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.

“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”

“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”

The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”

“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”

What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.

He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs. 

And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter. 

His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.

Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.

“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious. 

As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.

“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.

Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Easy, doll.” 

Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.

Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”

The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.

Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street. 

Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.

He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.

Damn it, doll.

Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.

Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.

The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.

It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.

Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.

It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser. 

The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways. 

What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?

Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.

Just then, a knock on the door startled you.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.

Shit.

note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!

Michael Kaiser — Mean

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 6.4k TYPE: Fake dating, This is not fluff or angst but a secret third thing (with a cheerful ending) WARNING(S): Depersonalization/identity issues

The first time you meet Michael Kaiser, you get a bad impression.

Yeah, sure, he doesn’t have the most stellar reputation, anyway. You’ve met all sorts of unpleasant people in your life and he manages to disappoint even when the bar is so low, the only way to go lower is through digging.

You don’t exchange a word with him, but rather you have the misfortune of having to listen to him talk throughout the entire meeting. He starts countless arguments, some valid to an extent. You can tell he’s just doing this because he’s addicted to the sound of his voice and speaking to people like they’re unimportant specks of dust all while commanding their attention. There’s no point to his fussing either because he ends up signing the same contract you do.

Waste of your goddamn time — he might as well have not signed it and saved you the trouble, since the ordeal ends up lasting three hours because of him.

Maybe you should’ve not signed it yourself, but your PR manager was salivating at the idea of fake dating as a publicity stunt, especially with Kaiser who’ll be posing with you for a photoshoot in a few months, so you said ‘whatever’ and here you are. In this predicament with an insufferable man you imagine you won’t get along with, which already predisposes you to never giving him a chance.

___

The first time you speak to Michael Kaiser, you unsettle him.

It’s unlike him to feel disturbed, let alone at the slightest thing. He’s met all sorts of sickos, so he considers himself unflinching in the face of anyone who has anything off about them.

But he’s fifteen minutes late to the ‘date’ you’re supposed to use as a tool to subtly launch your fake relationship and he’s expecting a scolding. Kaiser spots you and heads in your direction, taking the seat in front with a shitty smirk and an ingenuine, half-assed apology on his lips.

What he gets in response is a blank look — almost… unimpressed, which naturally someone like Kaiser takes as a challenge and already sets the tone for the rest of the conversation — and it’s as if you’re staring into his soul. Then in an instant your expression flips to convincing joy, your warm smile contrasting his snide one, and you say, “Let’s act like we’re really stoked.”

A chill runs down his spine. On a logical level Kaiser knows you’re faking it, but it looks real, and that’s what he finds freaky. Also, the speed.

“Let’s not,” he says. “You’re weird,” he adds after you don’t respond.

You don’t react to this information either and settle for maintaining your smile.

The barista decides to spare him from having to look at you while you don’t say anything. He’s pretty sure you’re doing this deliberately, to torture him. When you attempt to order something, he talks over you and asks, “Can you give us one of those shitty milkshakes with two straws in them?”

She stares at him in bewilderment. “We don’t sell those,” she says eventually.

“Can you make one?”

“No…”

“You’re scum,” you tell him, dropping the happy facade. Again, the quickness strikes Kaiser as disturbing. Then you give her a valid order, and he asks for water since they offer that everywhere and he can’t be bothered to read the menu. After the barista leaves, you say, “I could have lactose intolerance.”

“You could. I could be trying to kill you.”

“I don’t know if a milkshake would be enough to kill me.”

“Maybe I was trying to give you a stomach ache,” he concurs.

You don’t dignify that with a reply either.

Kaiser tries to speak with you again, “I really fucking hate milk.”

“Then why’d you do that?”

“To embarrass you, of course,” he says, like he’s revealed to you the natural order of things.

“Hm.” You consider this new information. “I’ll definitely think of a way to get back at you.”

The lukewarm threat seems to amuse him more than anything.

Then you proceed to have a hostile few hours together in public as instructed. You end up throwing napkins at his face.

Kaiser isn’t good at pretending to be in love. The only such image he seems capable of projecting is one of a middle schooler who’s failing to find a balance between playful and mean. Though it also doesn’t matter to you because you mostly teeter on the edge of mean, slightly left of apathetic. Nothing really matters to you.

___

For your second court-ordered date with Michael Kaiser, your manager tells you to get caught holding hands with him at a park after the cafe meeting doesn’t spark much controversy. The notion itself has you scrunching your face, but you don’t complain about it or voice your opinion.

Again, he’s late picking you up by a not negligent amount of time, leaving you to stand in front of your building, motionless and impatient.

Instead of announcing his presence in a more acceptable manner, Kaiser blares the car horn until you realize it’s him. After you crawl inside the passenger seat, you turn to look at him and see that he looks very pleased with himself. It’s obnoxious.

“I hope we die in a car crash,” you greet.

“We won’t.” You don’t know why, but his brain interprets this as an opportunity to brag. “I’m an excellent driver.”

He’s not. Somehow you make it to the park without getting into a catastrophe — which, as established, you wouldn’t have minded.

You exit at the same time and Kaiser frowns at you by the time he circles his way around to you. You don’t care enough about what’s bothering him to raise a questioning eyebrow let alone ask, but he tells you, “I was going to open the door for you and then offer to help you up. You ruined everything!”

You roll your eyes. “How gallant.”

“Get back in,” Kaiser says, pointing (as if the gesture will be enough to convince you to play along). “Let’s redo it.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I have a vision for these kinds of things, that’s all.”

“Your vision is trashy and uninspired,” you reject promptly.

Kaiser seems to be the first person in the world who finds your attitude funny rather than objectionable because he grins at your response. But he’s more so looking at you like you’re a bug he finds fascinating in comparison to the rest, without any real respect or acknowledgement. 

“I admit maybe it was a bit cliche,” he says. “Would’ve made me look good, though, if someone caught it on camera.”

You smile that ghoulish smile again and grab his hand like you were told. His fingers are cold and yours even more so, making the grasp clammy and uncomfortable while you begin your stroll. You don’t even know what you’re supposed to talk about with him. Soon enough, you scowl, both the silence and the sensation of getting touched proving too much for you to hide your displeasure, even though Kaiser seems content with letting the silence fester.

“Oh? Why’d you stop? I’ve started enjoying your creepy masquerading.”

“I’m disgusted,” you say.

“Disgusted,” he repeats. “By what? Me?”

“It’s making me sick. Who knows where your hand’s been or what you’ve done.”

Albeit visibly offended for the first time if the lack of an annoying smirk is anything to draw judgments from, Kaiser drops it first. Your arm hangs by your side again, limp.

“Let go, then. Or do I need to do everything myself?” That’s quite a dramatic sentiment coming from a man who has done nothing all day besides a short drive and taking a few steps.

“But my manager said-”

“Who cares? I think my manager’s lucky I agreed to this bullshit in the first place,” Kaiser says. “By the way, my hands haven’t been in any sewers or anything to warrant this reaction, thank you very much.” He must be the type of person who only ever says thank you as if being grateful is some big joke.

“I’m not being literal. I know who you are and what people say about you. My disgust is conceptual.”

“Flattering.” Kaiser’s pleased again with the mention of this tidbit, like the mental image he’s getting of you searching him up gives him immeasurable amounts of satisfaction. One thing you’ve come to notice about him since your last outing is that he’s shameless. “You’re not special, though. Lots of people know who I am.”

“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re scum.”

“Do you usually talk to people you barely know in this way or is it preferential treatment? I’d love preferential treatment, but the other option is amusing too.”

“Usually,” you say in a monotone. “That’s why I don’t speak much. More so supposed to be looked at rather than heard, and so on.” You finish off your explanation with a flippant gesture. That’s what it’s like for you — ‘shut your trap, it ruins your appeal.’

“Well, I-” there’s an emphasis on the word ‘I’ because Kaiser always thinks his opinion matters, “-think your worldview is pathetic and embarrassing. What’s the point of being looked at if no one will listen to you? How can you be fine with that?”

Fair point. You concede in your head, but don’t commit to agreeing with him out loud. “You’re not special either. Most people gross me out.”

“You hurt me this time.” He’s sneering, though.

After a while of walking, you find yourself sitting on a bench next to him. A few pigeons strut around near your feet, bobbing their heads back and forth, almost catching a groove. “If I had any bread, I’d feed them.”

“I’m not surprised you’d feel interested in such a commoner’s activity,” Kaiser says, as if he is somehow superior to you for not wanting to participate in this.

“Vile,” you say, voice still neutral. You’re not looking at him either, attention glued to the birds.

He doesn’t know which part of it you find dismaying — was it the class shaming or what? “So you like pigeons, but you hate humanity. You’re one of those.”

“I don’t hate humanity,” you say. “But nature is repulsive by default. It’s not amoral. When we’re cruel and ugly, that’s a conscious and opportunistic decision. Every day CEOs throw their employees and workers under the bus for more profits. Someone’s getting murdered as we speak. We’re faking a relationship to attract brand deals. I’m getting sick just thinking about it.”

“Get a hobby instead of thinking about stupid shit like that. Caring about how ugly and bleak everything is won’t get you anywhere,” Kaiser… advises.

“Look at the pigeons.” You’re watching the one with the missing claws, wobbling and struggling to get around. “Humans domesticated them and then abandoned them. I love flora and fauna. They’re interesting and exist much more differently than we do.”

“Does that mean you like my tattoo then?”

“Not everything needs to be about you. It’s not like people will forget you exist when you don’t force yourself to be at the center of conversation.”

This stings him the tiniest bit. Either you’re probing into an insecurity or he’s reading too deep into what you’re gathering from your conversations with him. “If I wanted to have a pseudointellectual conversation, I wouldn’t ask a vapid model to psychoanalyze me.”

“Your opinions are unoriginal and stereotyped just like your ideas about romance,” you say, finally turning around to face him again with those haunted eyes. He’s unamused now, clenching his jaw and all. “A stupid athlete wouldn’t be my first choice for a ‘pseudointellectual conversation’ either.”

“You look down on others and judge them, so what makes you so different from all those ‘scum’ you hate? How are you exempt from your own standards?”

Do you realize you’re displaying similar behaviors to those you’re scolding him over?

“Well, there’s a simple explanation for that,” you say. Kaiser is expecting an argument or something, but you kind of floor him with your follow-up. “It’s called hypocrisy. I’m probably just as disgusting as the average person.”

“Your life must be miserable if you look at everything through this lens. What was the phrase, rose colored glasses? Yours must have shit smeared over them.”

You shrug then make a 50/50 motion with your hand. “My life’s neither good nor bad. I’m indifferent on the subject.”

“Uh huh.” Kaiser considers this, then his lips twitch up, and then his smile broadens — it’s snide and smug again, and you come to the realization that he probably doesn’t know how to smile in any other way — before he inches a little closer to you. Not enough to brush against you, but enough to count as an attempted provocation. “I think people like you shouldn’t be considered alive. Legally speaking. And if we’re being figurative, you’re obviously already dead.”

You frown at him, since he’s kind of right. The fact that Michael Kaiser has the capability to discern truths you don’t want to hear rubs you the wrong way.

“Speaking of birds,” you start, deciding to change the topic, “you remind me of a peacock.”

“Wrong.” He’s pouty now. You find the expression cute, but when you catch the thought you throw up in your mouth a bit, so you ignore it. “I’m clearly a swan.”

“The fact that you have a preference when it comes to what animal you’re considered is sad.”

“And you’re entertaining. Let’s hang out again soon even if those sorry fucks don’t suggest it.”

You find it bewildering how he calls his PR manager’s input a ‘suggestion’ and seems to think he can do whatever he wants. Which, maybe he does, seeing the way he conducts himself. You’re also tempted to tell him to make up his mind on whether he enjoys your company or not, but there are more important matters right now. “We’re not supposed to do that, I don’t think.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Why this desire all of a sudden?”

“It’s what I want.” What impeccable reasoning. “I think I can make you enjoy yourself,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong. Not for your merit or anything stupid.” Kaiser offers what you’d describe as a flamboyant hand wave in the air, demeanor laced with complacency. “I think it’d make me feel really charitable and generous if I can manage to add something to your depressing life. Give me a chance to try.”

“Word of advice,” you scoot away from him to the point the edge of the bench is digging into your ass and it honestly hurts, “you’re not gonna get anywhere with that attitude. How you phrased it disgusted me again.”

Kaiser finds your favored terms interesting. Everything is sickening and disgusting and vile and scummy from your perspective. Deep down for reasons he doesn’t want to ponder, he can relate.

“Great. You’ll come around soon,” he promises, with the confidence of someone who thinks this is a game he has a high chance of winning.

___

Kaiser makes it a point to inflict his presence onto you as much as he can afford to with your schedules, even though there’s no need for it. Not that you refuse him either. He’s kind of interesting to keep around, in his own Kaiser-ish way.

Earlier today he invited himself over to your house. He’d decided you need to come up with a story about your ‘relationship,’ but didn’t wanna discuss it through text messages. Apparently he has an interview coming up and wants to be prepared in case they ask him about you.

“How did we meet?” you ask, sitting on the other side of the couch and leaning against the armrest, away from him.

The answer is immediate: “I saved you from a burning church.”

You question what other fantasies this man could probably have because that’s the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard. Your voice somehow remains flat despite the bewilderment when you ask, “Why?”

“Because it’s flashy and dramatic.”

“But if anyone searches it up, they’ll see there haven’t been any… burned churches?”

“You’re such a killjoy.” Kaiser sighs. “It makes it sound mystical.”

“No it doesn’t,” you say, rather flippant about the entire thing. “It makes you sound like a pathological liar.”

“I like your sense of humor.”

“Thanks, but I’m not kidding about this.”

“Then what do you think it should be?” Kaiser asks. Obviously the purpose of this inquiry is to criticize your choice of scenario — even you can anticipate such a predictable move.

You roll your eyes and then look away from him in contemplation. You hadn’t really thought about it, since you don’t do interviews, and therefore you don’t need to concern yourself with hypotheticals on the matter. “Some kind of party, maybe. Post-match celebration?”

“Makes sense,” says Kaiser. “Doesn’t compel me, though. Boring.”

With a hum, you try to imagine what would both appeal to Kaiser and sound realistic. Though he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’s swayed by practicality. “I went with someone else, but you swept me off my feet so hard, you stole me away from them.”

“I guess it sounds plausible enough while still having an element of fantasy.”

“Is the idea of me liking you the ‘element of fantasy’?”

“Yeah… That’s why I want it.”

You didn’t expect such a response. It has you looking at him weird. You do so often anyway, but now you do it for longer as if trying to glean something. In response Kaiser tells you to take a picture since it’ll last longer. The reply seems extraneous and distracting, and that only makes you feel more suspicious of him, which is weird since you’re not sure what you’re even inferring.

___

Officially it’s your fifth date with Kaiser, unofficially it’s the tenth. This time you’re holding up a frog in your open hands.

He doesn’t know what the point of all the nature-themed outings is — maybe to make him seem down to Earth in the public eye since he’s become notorious for how insufferable he is? Either way he doesn’t care, and he’s not the type to wander at landscapes, but your affinity for ugly animals is kind of cute.

The frog isn’t some special one either. No crazy colors or anything, just a regular green tree frog (according to your expertise). You let it jump onto your palms, since apparently touching their skin is bad for them or something. Kaiser scrutinizes it in distaste, staring down into its big eyes while it croaks. “So you can handle a disgusting amphibian, but you can’t hold hands with me.”

“I see you’re still thinking about that.”

“Well, it was insulting. And besides, it’s never happened to me before.”

“You’re not so bad. I don’t think I’d vomit if we brushed against each other anymore.”

Kaiser seems curious but nonetheless pleased with this development. “Why the change of heart?”

“Because you listen to what I say,” you tell him.

He somehow resists the urge to piss himself laughing at the sound of that. “Your standards are so low. It’s so sad that it’s funny,” he says. Maybe he would’ve dedicated some more time to teasing you over it, but he comes to a realization which immediately lifts his mood. This must mean he’s in your good graces somewhat, and not many people seem to fit there, so that makes Kaiser special to a degree. Right?

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

“Who would’ve thought someone who looks the way you do would come out like this?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I think you were one of those kids who, like, shoved sticks and leaves in mud and called it a potion.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean now?”

Kaiser lets out an annoyed sound, tired of elaborating. “It means I think you’re strange.”

“Hmm, I bet you do,” you say. “There’s a quote I like: ‘It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.’”

“Yeah, and I bet that’s the kind of message you love. What’s it from?”

“Interesting story,” you say. “This is Jiddu Krishnamurti’s most famous quote, but it doesn’t appear in any of his books. Allegedly he said it to some other guy.”

Kaiser blinks and nods, maybe trying to keep a pretense of having the slightest concept of what you’re on about. “Whatever, got it. I can’t remember the last time I read a book. Maybe I’ll check him out.”

“You don’t seem like you’d be interested in that type of thing,” you say, staring at him as if you’re trying to figure him out.

“Actually, I am. Can you stop taking every chance to insult me?”

“I’m not. At least not on purpose… So, what are your hobbies, anyway? You never told me.”

“I practice. What do you take me for?”

You furrow your eyebrows at him. “That’s it?”

Kaiser opens his mouth to justify himself even though there’s no need to be defensive — maybe it’s that he feels like he’s lacking in some department after you bring your attention to it with your little response and generally Kaiser hates to be insufficient. But before he can argue and try and talk himself out of whatever perception you have of him now, an interruption happens.

The frog, which had been lazy and content with merely existing in your grasp, springs without any warning. It leaps out of your fingers and lands on top of Kaiser’s head.

Today you learn Michael Kaiser screams at an ear-shattering frequency when he’s startled. Soap opera level of shock and overreaction.

___

It is when you’re eating at a trashy place for lunch that Kaiser’s looking at his phone, which you find rude since you’re supposed to be spending time together and whatnot. He eats like a pig, too, not graceful at all — you wonder what his fans would think if they saw him with crumbs over his mouth and sauce on his chin. Good material for a public embarrassment campaign, you think.

But it’s in that moment that he finally wipes himself with a tissue and reaches out to all but shove his phone in your face. “Look, we’re so hot!”

You grace the picture with a dismissive glance before looking back down at your meal, disinterested. You already know enough about Kaiser to assume he’d get a kick out of power couple fantasies. And other power fantasies. Really, you find it pathetic.

It was something out of the photoshoot he was showing you, his favorite you presume. Even someone like Kaiser, who has conventional features, isn’t perfect when it comes to these unreasonable standards. He’d been way too stiff next to you while he posed and though his face is symmetrical, his expressions tend to stray to one side, and obviously it’d been corrected.

There’s a mismatch between you on the covers and your image in the mirror. Maybe your brain is exaggerating the disconnect, but every time you see them, it’s like staring into an airbrushed, distorted amalgamation. In other words, you prefer avoiding both the edited products and your reflection whenever you can.

“We don’t look like that,” you say, offhand about his enthusiasm as you are with most things.

Kaiser scoffs and then very blatantly tries to compare between whatever version of you he has on his phone and the you in front of him. There’s not a single good thing you can say about his decision — it’s making your skin crawl just knowing it’s what he’s doing.

“Close enough,” he deems after careful examination.

“I don’t think it’s me.”

“It’s quite literally you.”

“I don’t think anything is me. Like I’m just what I see. My perspective, my point of view. You get what I’m saying?”

“No?” Kaiser says, laughing at you and your apparently strange affliction.

“Well if not that, you have to admit things captured on camera aren’t real.”

“What are you talking about,” Kaiser asks in a flat tone, which leaves it as something less than a question. A few more snickers escape him and he’s grinning at you like a bastard — if at first he regarded you as a slightly more fascinating bug than the rest, by now you must be his favorite, the rarest… A tree lobster. “You make no sense.”

“It totally makes sense. Imagine we’re having sex-”

“What kind of stupid come-on is that?”

“It’s not a come-on, I’m explaining. So, imagine we’re having sex-”

“In what position?”

“Whatever you want as long as it works for the scenario. Anyway, imagine we’re having sex-”

Kaiser laughs harder and then attempts some seductive sort of expression which doesn’t land with you. “I’m imagining it,” he informs.

“Shut up and let me get to the point. Imagine we’re having sex and I’m recording it-”

“Wow, I didn’t take you for such a pervert? Not that I hate it.”

“-so I’m looking at you through the camera lens. The phone’s between us. I’m not, like, in the moment with you. My mind’s absent, it’s all digital. So if you think about it we’re not even really having sex.”

“... You’re losing me even more,” Kaiser says after some contemplation, finding the fantasy unpleasant all of a sudden with this new spin to it. A moment passes during which he takes another big, possibly exaggerated bite, but he at least has enough decency to chew and swallow before adding, “I think you just have a problem.”

You roll your eyes, wondering if he even entertained the thought, but shrug since it doesn’t matter in the end. “Why are we always talking about how I’m weird? If anything, you're eccentric, not me.”

Kaiser wrinkles his nose in offense at the notion and makes an incomprehensible hand gesture in the air. “No. I’ve turned out totally normal. Don’t put me at your level.”

A lot of curiosities spin around your head concerning Kaiser’s behavior whenever you meet and you’re yet to find an answer. What does he want? Clearly he’s comfortable with and used to wanting, but what is it? Attention? Money? Fame? Status? All, none? Will it ever be enough? Is it even the kind of hunger which can be satiated?

Who is he when he’s not playing this ridiculous character?

“I can’t get a read on you,” you tell him.

“Well, you’re socially inept. I doubt you can get a read on anyone.”

“So are you.”

Kaiser feigns hurt over this. He does that a lot. Maybe he finds it hilarious, maybe the performance is all for shits and giggles — who knows.

“I want to dissect your head,” you say after a while of silence.

“Really? That’s what you wanna do with me?”

“Mhm. With a scalpel. I’d make an incision around your temple maybe.”

“My beautiful and demented angel, is that your way of saying you wanna get closer to me?” The sentence comes out mocking with a paper thin smile, but there’s a sense of admiration in it. What for? You raise an eyebrow in visible confusion at the… nickname, but Kaiser doesn’t elaborate. To take away from the tension(?), he announces, “You’ve got something stuck between your teeth,” pointing at your mouth all amused.

___

Kaiser had an ulterior motive in accepting that deal. Though wording it this way makes it sound like some calculated, opportunistic, sinister scheme, when in reality it’s nothing beyond immature and a little humiliating.

Of course, in true Kaiser fashion, when looking to meet someone, he goes straight for the most convoluted option. So when the stupid idea came up, he agreed, even if he put on a bit of a show at first and acted irritating. Confessing to wanting friends is so embarrassing. He’d rather shoot himself at point blank or perhaps commit an act of auto-defenestration than admit the real reason for participating, much less in front of you.

Despite the jabs, you’re also not bad at all. Calm and uninvolved in anything that upsets him and without any expectations towards him.

At first he found your indifference derogatory, but as the months have passed by, there’s a sort of comfort in knowing that he could’ve been some random guy off the street and you would’ve probably treated him the same. In front of you he is neither on a pedestal nor someone to be knocked down on his knees. More Michael than he is Kaiser.

Things have been teetering on a dangerous edge lately. His mind is wandering off towards you again, more and more often each day. Like maybe he’s excited for the next time he sees you or something else repulsive in a similar vein, a giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach. Is this what it would’ve been like to be a little boy with a crush?

Generally he prefers not to socialize with background characters. So he doesn’t know why it’s while he’s having some benign daydream about you that some newbie he hadn’t bothered remembering the name of decides to interrupt him. Besides, it’s inconvenient, he was supposed to be leaving and this guy is blocking the changing room door.

“I heard you’re banging a model,” he says, as if they’re good pals or some shit. Kaiser is also mostly immune to annoying locker room talk since all the other psychotic men he knows are too busy being as fanatical as him to waste time on something as useless objectifying someone to pass the time, yet here this lowlife is.

Kaiser regards him with a judgmental side eye — for a second too long, almost television-style — and tries to move and sidestep him. “Why do you care? Pathetic cuck.”

“Woah, don’t be like that. I just thought it was funny. I’ve heard about that person before, would’ve thought it would be more of a hit it and quit it type thing. Yet here you are, still together.”

The emotion that zaps him is almost disorienting. Kaiser bruises easily, but it’s all about him. There’s never been much room for anyone else in his mentality of suffocating self-absorption, a depressing way to try and compensate for anyone who’s ever wronged him. Right now, though, he’s feeling anger on someone else’s behalf. A borderline exotic situation.

“So I was curious if that thing about loonies being the best at fucking was true? I’m assuming it is ‘cause I don’t know why else you’d stay with a schizoid.”

In the heat of the moment, when he’s pissed off, Kaiser is not the most poetic wordsmith. Thankfully politeness and civility are sensibilities which elude him. Without a second thought or any regret, he makes use of his water bottle still in his hand and dumps the entire contents of it over his head before elbowing him out of the way while he’s still confused.

___

You really don’t want to be having this conversation.

For fuck’s sake, you’re on break. And isn’t that supposed to mean relaxation? Yet the other model for the shoot today has been bugging you with unpleasant questions, putting you on the spot.

“Isn’t he a narcissist, though?” she asks, refusing to let go of the topic no matter how unresponsive you’ve been.

“I guess? Maybe. In a way…”

“You’re sooo… I don’t know. Like, you don’t even sound sure about what you’re telling me.” She narrows her eyes at you, leaning in a bit closer. “Aren’t you scared of him? Or is it ‘cause you’re so sheltered, you don’t know not to mess around with guys like Kaiser?”

Scared of him? It sounds ludicrous. At worst he’s whiny.

“He’s harmless,” you say. “Just a little rude and preoccupied with himself, that’s all. Actually, he’s an interesting and attentive person.”

She covers her mouth and lets out a sound of amusement, apparently now finding you more convincing and therefore dropping her worries. “He was saying you guys are suuuuuuuper in love with an interview.”

Not too engaged with the topic — since it’s about whatever lies Kaiser told the interviewer to entertain himself — you ask, “Is that what he was saying?”

“Yep. Didn’t you watch?”

“No.”

“Fine. Maybe he’s ‘interesting and attentive.’ I mean, I don’t believe it, but whatever. What about you, though? Do you like him, let alone love him? Can you even like anyone? I mean, shit, you know how you are. So, like, can you? Are you suuuuuuuper in love?”

You avert your eyes. “Yes,” you say. It’s true. You do like Kaiser well enough, probably more than you should. “And stop making assumptions about him and me.”

“What if I don’t stop? What are you gonna do?”

That’s… A very good question because there’s nothing you can do at the moment. Seems like a good opportunity to weaponize your reputation of being a deranged serial killer. “I’ll lick your eyebrows.”

You don’t know if your delivery is persuasive or not, but the idea you’d do such a thing must come off as believable enough because she makes a strange face before backing off.

___

You despise being in situations. And making decisions.

There’s a stupid PR meeting again. Your manager, who you think should move onto writing trashy novellas instead of administering poison to your career just because his imagination is overactive, proposed a new stunt. With the fake relationship running its course, you were discussing ways to publicize the ‘break up’ and he suggested a cheating scandal. Not to mention his great idea had you as the cheater — you swear he’s praying on your downfall at this point.

Maybe you’ve been treated as some kind of fucked up creature incapable of thought and trustworthy decisions, something insentient, you would’ve went along with it like always. Even though you know you’d look bad, the point is to make noise, and it would be a scandalous story if not anything else. Another indignity doesn’t matter much on an endless list.

Then Kaiser in true Kaiser fashion declared that he wants to keep the relationship going. To you, such an act of flippant defiance is unthinkable.

But obviously this forces you into a position where you need to pick between your options. They’re all staring at you, waiting. Kaiser is smiling at you from across his seat like you’re in on a joke with him. Anxious, you say, “I’ll think about it,” and stand up to leave.

You’re sweating because somewhere within you wanna announce ‘Yeah, I wanna keep seeing Michael Kaiser,’ but it’s so preposterous.

Kaiser doesn’t chase after you (though it’d be his style to do such a thing solely for the drama), but he catches up to you by the time you make it outside of the building, approaching the parking lot.

“Hey. Hey! Hey, stop ignoring me. Heeeeeeey.”

God he is such an annoying pest sometimes. You turn around to face him, snapping, “What?! What was that about anyway?”

“No, what’s with you? What is there to think about? You don’t want to look like a clown in front of the world, do you?”

You’re looking at Kaiser again like you’re trying to figure out a mystery. He always wants things, but what does he want from you? There has to be a reason for this. Otherwise, he should’ve been fine with the separation instead of trying to prolong it.

“Listen,” says Kaiser, a little apprehensive at your silence and expressionless gaze, “I can tell you barely tolerate your shitty job and that you probably don’t like the moronic idea your anthropomorphized cyst of a manager came up with, so why aren’t you protesting it?”

Those are objective enough observations. However, “Anthropomorphized cyst…?”

“You’re changing the subject,” Kaiser huffs, irked. “And by the way the fake meek act isn’t cute at all. They’re making money off of you. Tell them to fuck off and die and stop acting like a hostage.”

“This is very inspirational and all, Kaiser, but how about you tell me why you wanna keep the fake relationship going?”

“Doesn’t matter. If you don’t want that either, you can say we’ll settle for ending it instead of-”

You cross your arms. “Again, your attempts at a pep talk are adorable and appreciated, but you’re changing the subject now.”

“They’re not adorable. I’m right. Say I’m right.”

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” you relent with a roll of your eyes.

Kaiser smiles snidely and clasps his hands behind his back. “Thanks,” he says in a sarcastic tone. Then you expect him to entertain your question, but he doesn’t, leaving you in an uncomfortable staredown against him and his stupid ‘beautiful glowing blue orbs’ ass eyes.

“Answer me,” you demand.

“Your unpleasant personality and reclusive ways have bewitched me.”

…

…

“… What?”

“I won’t repeat myself,” Kaiser says with too much attitude considering the situation. Like, he just spoke out one of the most absurd sentences you’ve ever heard.

“Do you have a brain tumor?”

The outrageous suggestion makes him scoff. “Really? You think I need a brain tumor to like you?”

“Maybe,” you say. “Should’ve let me operate on you when I offered.”

“You’re mentally disturbed,” he replies like the fact turns him on or something.

“So were you asking me out or what?”

“Yes? No? Yes. Yeah, fine, I am.”

“Do you search up ‘personality’ on porn sites?”

“Come on, be serious. I mean what I’m saying and I want to give things between us a try. Do you?”

You cringe as if admitting your feelings or overall being in touch with them in the first place is a physically painful sensation, but in your defense you think you might throw up. “Yeah… Yeah, okay, I’ll tell him tomorrow. My manager, I mean.”

Kaiser swings an arm around your shoulders, visibly pleased with the way this is all going. He sings, “That’s the spirit.”

What had he wanted from you? Affection and care, apparently. You think back on when you’d called him ‘disgusting’ and a foreign guilt overcomes you since you don’t usually lament the remarks you make during your misanthropic hissy fits.

Is it fine for someone such as yourself to also indulge in wanting? Hesitant, with shaky arms, you embrace him around the middle, the gentlest of hugs. Kaiser freezes for a moment as if he’s unsure what to do when he’s not the one initiating things, but eventually returns the gesture. Melts into it, even. Two existences brushing against one another, at first glance contrary yet perhaps similar in many ways.

When you finally pull away from each other little by little, Kaiser says, “Let’s elope now.”

You sigh. “You sure have a way of making everything sound way more exciting than it is.”

(He drives you back to your place, but still sucks at driving. Chivalrously, he avoids crashing the car, though.)

___

Yall I was drinking light yellow tap water for a few daysdo you think somethings gonna happen to me ?

Btw I hate this but it's finally finished after like around a month so whatever lol I' M FREE

Michael Kaiser — Pissing on Romance's Grave

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k TYPE: Humor, Established relationship WARNING(S): tw Kaiser

Today is worse than a plague.

Well… Exaggerated inner turmoil aside, you’ve been having an awful day. It’s like you’ve been waddling through a swamp of bullshit. Even now you’re climbing up the stairs to your apartment because the stupid elevator broke. Could’ve been worse, you suppose — at least you weren’t inside when it malfunctioned.

The feeble attempt at optimism, however, isn’t easing your hatred and misery at all. Proof of your ever present anger is how you almost rip the door off its hinges after you unlock it, barging in, then closing it with a bang again.

While taking off your shoe, you register a strange smell. Of something burnt. Maybe you’re resigned to the fate that it’s probable you’ll die today, so while you are alarmed, it’s not enough to make you hurry and run with your other shoe still on. Even when you do begin your trek with heavy footsteps, your pace is brisk at best, following the scent right to your bedroom.

You don’t hesitate, but perhaps you should’ve, since it would’ve given you a moment to brace yourself. Still, nothing could’ve really prepared you for the sight that greets you once you enter.

“I can explain,” Kaiser says with wide eyes, reaching out his hands in front of him in case you try to lunge at him and go in for the kill.

Your bathrobe looks burned. Usually this isn’t an observation you’d be making, but you’re forced to now, what with Kaiser wearing it… for some godforsaken reason. Your bed is in even worse condition, tattered and covered in soot, melting candles knocked over. Wax sticking to the ruined sheets. Rose petals are scattered all over the floor. Many of them are ashy like they got caught up in whatever incident occurred. Three more candles dripping over the flowers and the carpet, all these things culminating in a giant mess.

What the actual fuck are you looking at?

“Open the window!” you scream at him then gesture towards it, maybe in case he doesn’t know what a ‘window’ is. It wouldn’t surprise you at this point with the way things are going.

“I did!” Kaiser says, annoyed, as if he has any right to be giving you an attitude in this situation. Though, recognizing the murderous intent in your face, he fumbles to reach out and open it. “I did, but I got cold, so I closed it.”

“Yeah, speaking of, why the hell are you wearing my bathrobe?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring mine-”

“Why do you need to be wearing a bathrobe. At. All.”

“For the atmosphere.”

“For the atmosphere?” You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation. “For the atmosphere?! There’s no atmosphere, this is just a fire hazard!”

“It was going to be romantic-”

“Why did you close the window even though the room hasn’t aired out and stayed inside? Why were you even- What if something happened to you?!”

Kaiser smirks at you, content all of a sudden, before he crosses his arms. You could punch him in the face. “Oh, so you’re worried about me. You’d be sad if I died.” He says all this in the tone of announcing a triumph he’s holding over your head.

You ignore him, stepping over one of the roses. Kaiser regards the action with mild offense, which you don’t notice, since you’re too lost in the haze of your rage to even comprehend what’s going on. “How did you even manage this?”

“There was a miscalculation.”

“What does that mean?”

“I, um, I… tried to pose on the bed,” says Kaiser. This is the first time you’ve seen him look shameful during your entire time together, averting his gaze away from yours and all. Which is one way to affirm his statement and plan are particularly stupid, since he’s the type to stare at you straight on, unflinching, and smirk at you while telling you the dumbest shit.

“Pose?”

“You know. You know what I mean, right? Like a French girl? Yeah, like that.” The more he explains it, the more pathetic his mumbling is getting. To think even Kaiser, who’s obsessed with the sound of his voice, is capable of an inside voice.

You’ve never been so tense in your life. You might be developing a hernia in your neck. “Oh right, of course. Right! Because why wouldn’t you do that while wearing something flammable? I’m so stupid, how didn’t I think of that? Also, why in the world were you trying to LIGHT UP THE CANDLES AGAIN?! Like, let them rest, they’re already fucking done for! I saw you!”

“For the- for my artistic purposes. Of course. A real visionary doesn’t just give up after a small mishap.”

“And! The key I gave you is for emergencies! Not for you to-”

“But it was!!! A fucking emergency!”

“-set fires in my home! What are you even doing here?” You finish off your speech with a huff. Your tantrum has exhausted you, but at the same time it’s convenient you can use Kaiser as a verbal punching bag because of his lunacy.

Now he’s channeling his kicked puppy eyes. Like, he’s trying his best to force himself to cry, you can tell by the way he’s squinting at you and straining. When the effort proves futile he gives up and settles for glaring at you. “Alright, I know I messed up, but it’s obvious I was trying to surprise you for our anniversary.”

You blink at him. Then stay quiet.

“You forgot!” he accuses, trying to distract you from being mad at him by creating some fabricated emotional torment. Then he tries to force himself to cry again, and all you do in response to the display is roll your eyes.

Damn, you can’t believe your day has been so awful, your one year anniversary slipped your mind. These people are working you to an early grave.

“Whatever,” you say, before making a vague motion all around. “Clean up.”

His jaw hangs open as if he’s scandalized. “What? You want me to clean this shit all by myself?”

“You inflicted this on my poor bed alone. Clean it, now.”

Seeing that you’re apparently not dying of guilt, Kaiser decides to switch tactics. “But! My beloved, light of my life, fire in my groin-”

“That’s-” you interrupt your own sentence with a groan and resist the urge to either sock him in the jaw or find a way to knock yourself out through some obscure pressure point. Then you shake your head. Unfortunately it does nothing useful like for example maybe erasing the last twenty-four hours from your mind and instead remains as a meaningless gesture. “Not how it goes.”

“I know,” he says, satisfied with himself and his ridiculous antics. At least you think he must be from his annoying, smug grin. Though immediately after Kaiser appears to get a mood swing because his lips twist down again. “I can’t believe you forgot about our anniversary, though. And now you’re making me act like a maid. Do I mean nothing to you? You’re breaking my spirit here and this is an unethical dynamic-”

“Micha, I don’t give a fuck about your guilt tripping act. Just clean this up so we can enjoy the rest of our day.”

“Fine. Whatever. You win. You win! Your heartlessness wins against my romantic soul. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

You grit your teeth. “Shut up and get on with it.”

“Okay.” He deflates like a particularly depressed balloon.

You then proceed to watch as Kaiser makes his way around and acts like gathering and throwing away rose petals is the most difficult thing anyone has ever done. In his mind, this experience must be the most suffering anyone’s ever endured — but who knows what goes through his head. Several times, he offers to buy you a new apartment because he ‘doesn’t feel like dealing with this’ and since it’s ‘below him.’

And the whole time you’re observing him and his behavior, you can’t help but wonder what mental institution this man must’ve crawled out of to then find his path leading to you.

Michael Kaiser — On Your Knees

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 2.9k TYPE: Humor, Teasing, ERM I think y/n and kaiser might like each other 🤓 WARNING: Suggestive sorry (flirting is only verbal but explicit at times)

Kaiser always looks alright with his hair wet. Not, like, stunning or anything, but passable. Then you know it’ll start standing up in weird ways after it dries a little and he’ll ask Ness to help him with it — which, embarrassing, by the way.

But anyway. You wanted to check out the communal bath after you took a shower, figured you’d be alone because it was already bordering on late, and Kaiser followed you because why wouldn’t he. Not like you value your peace and solitude or anything. He can be such a pest sometimes.

You were telling him what Isagi told you — it’s called a sento and apparently it’s different from the more popular onsen — and he said you weren’t ‘worldly’ and that you weren’t ‘impressing him’ and then some more about how ‘everyone knows this.’ Shithead. You should spit in his breakfast tomorrow, if you remember.

Well, you like sitting in the bath, at least, so you’re not too sour right now. Even Kaiser being right next to you can’t ruin it.

“I like this Raichi guy,” you say.

Kaiser shakes his head a little to show you he disapproves. “Don’t tell me you mingle with them. Also, the guy’s always benched. He’s second-rate.”

“No, listen, he was telling me about this sexy soccer motto he has. I really wanna know what it’s about.”

“You’re embarrassing. If you’re in my entourage, you should act like it.”

“Dude, you’re just mad at Isagi ‘cause he was trending on football twitter more than you were that day,” you say.

“I’m not!”

Very persuasive argument coming from him here. It’ll take a lot out of you to take it apart. He’s fuming about it, too. Maybe it’s not so bad Kaiser came along if you can poke fun at him.

“I don’t know why you’re the favorite on the team, anyway,” you say. “They all die over your corny tattoo and not to mention how much you love showing it off. Not cool at all.”

“You wish you were me. Now you’re being jealous because no one likes you, and it’s making you look even uglier than usual,” says Kaiser, seeming to believe himself if the smug look on his face is anything to go by.

“I mean, I had a girlfriend till recently, you know.” Kaiser rolls his eyes, but you ignore him. He’s always doing this, pretending he doesn’t want to hear you. “She had this botched blue dye job and said things like ‘pussy power,’ with the crystals in her room and the tarot cards and all.”

“Yeah? Sounds great. Did you pick her up after a match, loser?”

You click your tongue and wag your finger at him just to be annoying. “No, I don’t fool around with fans. Seems more like your forte.”

He flicks the offending finger away. “I’ve never done that, you slanderous pig.”

“No, but listen, she didn’t care about football at all. She didn’t even know what a scissor kick is. Ooh, she drove me wild.” You sing the last part, looking up at the ceiling fondly as if you’re recalling a warm memory.

Kaiser narrows his eyes at you, frowning. “You’re one strange individual.” And what a pompous way to put it.

“But anyway, wanna know what kinda tattoo I’d get?”

“I seriously don’t care.”

“A skull with two guns. Hard as fuck.”

“You’re so lame. It’s appalling, and also probably why you got dumped.”

He’s taking the tattoo thing seriously. At least seriously enough to insult you over it. He’s even snickering at you in amusement. His face is always, how can you put it… snide, but he does look a touch more evil when he starts grinning and shit. What a hoot, though. Really.

“Nah, there was this guy. He wore suspenders with plaid polos and these little sweaters over them. They were sustainable. Sustainable. Can you believe it? Sustainable! I didn’t stand a chance.” You poke him on the neck, already distracted from what you were rambling about. Kaiser is going to bring up your low attention span soon, you can smell it on him. It doesn’t take any effort to reach out, though, what with him sitting so close next to you. “This isn’t such a bad spot for a tattoo, actually. I don’t know, maybe you were onto something.”

“Paws off,” he says, swatting you away like a bug. A pedestrian bug, probably, at least in his imagination. “You really wanna fondle me that badly, you’ll use any excuse to do so?”

“Paws!” you repeat, clapping. “You’re hysterical.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes again. He seems to like to do that a lot, at least in your presence. If there was such a thing as competitive eye-rolling, you wager he’d be good at it, maybe even better than he is at football.

“No, but listen-”

“God, I hate it when you say that,” he interrupts with a groan, then contradicts himself by also swinging an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer just to yawn in your face with great exaggeration. The water is way too hot for this nonsense, so you push him away. “Because I never want to listen to you.”

“You’re crazy. Insane. It’s super clinical. Like, really.”

“Yes, I’m sure, unlike me, you’d pass a psychiatric evaluation because I’m crazy and you aren’t. Of course.”

“Imagine-”

“Can you stop topic-hopping?” Kaiser asks, annoyed. See, you knew he’d bring it up. “Does your head ever hurt with how much bullshit goes through it?”

You shush him. He scowls at you like you’re some mold growing in the bath, but you disregard his expression of disdain. “Imagine you’re having a nice day, I don’t know, at practice. Then I barge in with all of my asshole glory, right, and I walk up to you, and for no reason, I say, ‘On your knees,’ instead of greeting you. Isn’t that kinda deranged?”

Kaiser stares at you. To his credit, he’s decent at maintaining a poker face, but once he’s embarrassed, there’s no hiding it, no going back. Because no matter how much he does his usual male posturing or whatever it’s called, his face is all red, the blush even going up to his ears, mouth wavering the slightest bit. “W-What? In your dreams.”

“Oh, do you like getting bossed around or something?” you ask with the sensitivity of a numb toe. “That’s so pathetic.”

It’s quite the spectacle when his skin somehow becomes even more flush. Sick of your leering, maybe, Kaiser whips around, albeit not all the way, and covers his cheek with his hand while peering at you through his fingers. Finally, he decrees, “You suck,” with too much authority.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Forget about me, though. In that situation, do you spit or do you swallow?”

It’s unclear whether you’re getting any gratification out of this besides the satisfaction of flustering him, but you smile in amusement regardless. As if you care about Kaiser sitting there, looking all pretty and nervous because of some nonsense you’d been spewing. Not like you’re crazy about him or anything. That’d be ridiculous. You couldn’t be more unfazed if you tried.

You grab your towel with what you’d call impressive swiftness, then turn around and stand, covering yourself before preparing to go on your merry way. Kaiser pulls you back by the ankle, trying to trip you or something, the menace. Hilarious guy, really.

He is staring up at you in this petulant sort of way, grabbing onto his own towel with his other hand. “Why are you leaving so soon?” he asks, sounding peeved, as if you haven’t been here with him for an unreasonable amount of time already.

“I thought I should give you some privacy since you’re all hot and bothered now,” you say (with this douchebag laugh you have for situations like these, where you’re being a douchebag — self-explanatory), stepping out of his grip. Then you try to imitate his voice, but more high-pitched, accompanying your performance with a few vulgar hand gestures. “Oh, [Y/n], you slanderous pig! I think that’s what you’d sound like.”

“You’re such a lowlife,” he says, before all but leaping out of the bath and trying to maim you right here on the spot, and the only thing to save you from your demise is that he gets lightheaded and almost faints immediately after.

You reach out to pull him up and keep him steady, holding him by the arms. “You can’t be jumping out of the bath like that, man, come on.”

The lack of response concerns you, but after a while, Kaiser gathers his wits enough to say, “I’m going to make you slip, and I’ll be praying you split your head open.”

You burst out laughing. “Do it, then. You don’t have it in you, do you?”

Instead of doing as he promised to retaliate to your provocation, he settles for letting go of you and glaring, before clutching the side of his head and going still again. If there was any medical wing in this goddamn football contraption, maybe you would’ve taken him, but alas. At least you don’t need to worry about Kaiser too much since he eventually concedes and holds onto your arm for support.

The sight of you two stumbling around towards the changing room is probably comedic — uncoordinated as hell, covering yourselves with these flimsy little towels, using the hands not clutching at the other.

“You’re supposed to drink a lot of water before getting in,” you say.

“It’s your fault! You didn’t warn me we were going.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you weren’t invited. Jeez.”

“Oh, whatever.”

You return the tiny towel to the basket, swapping it for a bigger one and making quick work of drying yourself. You’re slipping on your shirt when you ask, “Is your head all right now?”

“I’m fine.”

When you turn around to judge whether he’s being truthful or not, he’s dabbing himself in a manner which is way more laborious, examining his reflection in the mirror as if he’s in some slow motion commercial where the camera will capture a conspicuous water droplet falling down his neck, admiring his jaw from different angles. He makes you sick sometimes.

“I’m not gonna wait for you to finish checking yourself out.”

He shoos you away with a dismissive wave of his hand. Unlike his, your actions most often align with your words, though, so you do walk out of the door. You’re not even ten steps in when Kaiser reappears, now magically dressed.

“Stop rushing,” he says, pushing you out of the way — and for no reason! There’s enough space for both of you in the hallway. You end up lagging a bit behind him. “I’m dizzy.”

“I thought you said-”

“Blah, blah,” he cuts you off, untying his hair and doing a bad job of smoothing it out with his fingers.

You’re rooming with him and Ness, so you’re already headed in the same direction. As much as this stinks, your other option was Gesner and Grim. God, is fucking Gesner obsessed with dick cheese. Of all things, that’s what he’s always talking about. Grim has your condolences, but the problem is out of your hands now.

“Your hairstyle’s ridiculous.”

Kaiser turns his nose up and smiles, coming off as pleased by the insult. “You can only wish to pull it off.” Always preening like a peacock. He’s entertaining. You swear he is.

You hook one of the ends, where it’s the bluest, around your finger, twirling it around and around. “I had a dream about you recently.”

“Aww, I’m on your mind even when you’re unconscious. I could vomit right now.”

“You were in the meditation position, but you were levitating, and the rat tails were holding you up.”

Maybe you’ve committed some kind of utmost offense, because he doesn’t even bother insisting they’re not rat tails this time. “Wow, those are the kinds of things you dream about me? Your brain is defective to the core.”

“What do you want me to dream about you, then? Are you implying something?”

He faces you, and he has this way of looking at you like you’re a blight on humanity. You have an urge to press your palms against his cheeks to check how warm they get when he blushes, but resist it. “You’re so delusional.”

He’s rolling his eyes again.

“Keep rolling them, see where it gets you.”

“What, are you implying something?” Kaiser asks, mocking you, but he seems kind of happy at the insinuation. You’re not about to point it out, though, having a semblance of self-preservation.

“But anyway, your hair,” you say. “It looks good for tugging on.”

He snorts, either at your audacity to speak such things out loud to him, or at the way you straight up ignored his question.

So you elaborate, just so he doesn’t get the wrong idea, “Yeah, like, I kinda wanna grab you and swing you around till you fly outta my grip.”

“What?! As if.”

“It’d be so funny, though.”

“Maybe to other stupid people like you. Dense people who always ruin the fucking moment, for example, that type of thing.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, stifling a laugh before entering the room.

The lights are still on when you come in. Ness seems to be reading some kind of book, sitting upright and all. “Hey, guys. You were gone for a while.”

“We were,” Kaiser says, you assume just because he likes hearing himself talk. “All that time I can’t get back.”

You crouch down to get him a water bottle in case he forgot how dehydrated he was (or more likely decides he’s above getting it by himself). It’s rare for you to do something out of the goodness of your heart, so when you turn around to pass it and find him draping himself over the solitary bed — the one you won dibs on in an honest round of rock, paper, scissors — you swear to never do anything nice for him ever again.

“Hey, get off! It’s mine.”

“But I want it,” he whines, as if his word holds more weight than the aforementioned game of rock, paper, scissors, which, as already established, you won.

You’re about to make an earnest attempt at throwing him out of the bed until Ness comes to his defense. “Come on, leave him alone.”

Saying no to Kaiser is exceptionally easy. But going against what Ness is asking? You can’t get a read on the guy. He’s either way too happy most of the time, or is secretly plotting your murders for all you know. You toss the water bottle at Kaiser, leaving him to smirk at your relenting.

“By the way, do you mind if I turn the lights off after I do my nighttime routine in the bathroom? I’m kind of tired,” Ness says.

“Sure,” allows Kaiser. So generous and charming with a winning personality to boot, this guy.

You lean against the bunk bed and ask, “Oh yeah, why are you still up?”

“I thought it might be rude if I went to bed before you both came back, so I decided to wait.”

Damn, now you feel kind of bad for dilly-dallying for so long. You clutch your chest with a tasteful sense of drama. “You’re so perfect. Hey, Ness, you wanna take the top bunk?”

“Wow, really?”

“Why not at this point,” you say. After all, Ness came in second in the game, but gave it up to Kaiser, and he ruined everything already.

“Thanks!” He grins at you before rushing off to do his business, almost blinding you with the sweetness he emits. Your gaze trails after him until he leaves the room.

Kaiser is looking at you with a mix between scorn and disgust when you walk over to his side to retrieve your phone from the bedside table, but you pretend not to notice.

Figuring you have nothing better to do, you take Ness’s previous spot, lying down on your stomach, ready to check your notifications. In your peripheral vision, you see Kaiser take his shirt off theatrically, then he has the fucking nerve to throw it at you. He makes such a big show out of existing.

It’s probably more painless to throw him a glance now than to be stubborn, so you exhale out of your nostril in resignation and turn your attention back to him. Kaiser props himself on his elbow while reclining on his side, posing on the bed, gracing you with a bastard smile. Almost presenting himself like a Renaissance painting you’re supposed to admire in some chaste, intellectual kind of way.

“Wanna know something?”

“What?” he asks, apparently irritated since you don’t seem so appreciative of him right now.

“I think shitty, obnoxious guys like you need to be put in their place,” you tell him.

It really is way too obvious on his complexion when he starts getting shy. He’s like a breathing mood ring. It’s almost fascinating. For a second, Kaiser is incredulous, but then he turns smug again, addressing you with a sense of challenge. “Don’t even joke. You’re not really about it like that. All you do is talk.”

You think you’re gonna start having even more fun together after today.

___

No homo I HATE HIM 😍

hes so skibidi coded 😻

SERIES : BASTARDS IN MÜNCHEN

04 // casual conversations between two footballers - [ series masterlist : 03 ,, 05 ]

sypnosis: kaiser has plans to devour you

no prns used (reader). bm academy timeline. ness is only around at the start. cw: swearing. some dialogue-shit-talking. kaiser & reader showering together.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to turn out. You weren’t supposed to be there. You're supposed to be anywhere else but there right now!

Ness widens his eyes in disbelief. It was supposed to be an easy win like always- the rest of their team passing around when convenient, leading up to his assist, then Kaiser scores the inevitable goal.

So, why exactly are you currently clashed with his team’s ace forward? Your limbs stretched out, restricting each other from progressing any further. Kaiser’s forearm in front of your chest; Your thigh pressing onto his calves.

“LOOSE BALL!” Your teammates call out as the defenders are quick to pass the ball back onto the midfield.

“Tch,” Kaiser expresses in irritation. “Should’ve known you got something gearing up in that hollow head of yours when you begged Coach to have you switch teams.” Wasting no time, he sprints towards the ball.

You smirk, following right on his trail. “Playing alongside you and playing as part of your little charade has gotten boring, I had to do a little switcheroo to stay entertained.”

Glancing over to your teammates’ current positions. You then suddenly dash off to the other side of the field.

“SCHNEIDER! PASS!” You signalled towards your midfielder. Eyes still darting around the field.

As the ball is speeding towards you, the opponent team’s defenders prepare themselves to face you.

You can see both central defenders and the left wing back running towards you. Using their speed to assume their next action- you shot the ball forward, angled slightly to the right.

“!?” The defenders were caught off-guard by your shot. Get played, NPCs. The field is truly your playground- and you’re that one big mean bully in charge of letting the smaller ones know their place.

“What was that, man!?” Your teammate yells at you. Silence, no-name lackey. This big-brain play is too much for his smooth, non-wrinkled supposedly-complex organ to interpret.

Bursting towards the ball with surprising powerful acceleration, you didn’t need to yell back to your teammate to answer him as you then launched a finishing kick at the ball.

A vertical spin direct shot. The ball curves so dangerously beautiful it sent shivers down Ness’ spine as he helplessly watched from his place.

“PWWWWWT!” - the referee finalises your goal with his whistle.

SCORE : 1 - 1 (TIE)

“Alright, time’s up. Match’s over. Take a nice relaxing shower, and I’ll meet you guys in the footage room for an overview.” Coach shoo’s everyone off the field to the showers. Even someone as experienced as him can’t handle that much foul stench of stinky teenage sweat in one day.

“Yes, sir!”

—

You’re currently humming in the showers, slathering shampoo onto the top of your head as you massage your scalp soothingly. What a match that was, you’re really improving and getting better at kicking a ball around.

And of course, someone has to disturb your well-deserved me-time.

“You humiliated me twice on the field today,” Kaiser took the spot beside you in the showers, even though there are so many vacant ones elsewhere. “I won’t underestimate you any further. That was my mistake.”

You side-eyed him with your hands still up on your head. “Dude. In the showers, really?” You quickly start washing yourself off with the cold water, ever so eager to get out of confrontations.

“I commend you,” The blond earnestly compliments. “For your ability to read every single player’s positions so well.” He presses his lips together grimly.

You pause, then sigh. For the first time in this facility, willing to cooperate. “Just spit it out already, what is it that you wanna ask?” You were always the one to barge into people's conversations, rather than having them to walk up to you and start talking. You look at Kaiser weird for wanting to chat with you- more so for the lack of his usual judgy tone.

Kaiser stares right into your eyes, “You purposefully positioned yourself behind me, after you sent the ball flying front. You placed yourself in my blind spot, and you took the chance to sprint to the other side of the field. Fully utilizing everyone else’s position and focus on the ball.” He reads your face to gauge out any reactions, “You were able to predict- no, you knew what everyone’s next move was, in a live match. Weren’t you?”

“Yeah. Now you’re just pointing out the obvious. What of it?”

“I want to know how you did it.” His brows are now screwed together at your indifference, “I will learn and evolve, then gracefully destroy you and everyone else on the field.”

You only raise a brow at that bold statement, “I just use my eyes.” Deciding to not address his threat- or promise, you start getting up and reaching for your towel.

“Elaborate.” He hisses out as he rushes to follow after you. Did he even wash off the soap properly? He’ll get skin irritation for that.

“There’s really nothing much to it,” you shrug then start patting your wet hair with the towel. “When I’m out on the field, I multitask to watch everyone. So while I’m able to carry out my own objective, I’m also able to react to other people’s decisions and predict their live objectives while at it.” You struggle stuffing your arm into the holes of the shirt.

“Think of it as like, opening multiple tabs on Google, or running a variety of different heavy-duty tasks on your PC.” You stretch your arms to the back, “It’s incredibly taxing at the start, but it’s so absolutely atrocious, disgustingly, mind-fuckingly fun.”

Ignoring your use of vocabulary, Kaiser allows himself to ponder over your words.

You grin at him, poking his bicep as he stood silently. “Once you learn that little trick, I’ll show you how to recreate my incredible Midas’ Touch too.”

“Midas’ Touch?” Breaking himself out of his trance, he looks at you with a brow raised. “Is that what you named your curveshot? Lame.”

“It’s not just any curveshot!” You boast loud and proud, “It’s a clinical shot that the audience will wet their pants over, you know? I know that I get them on edge with that finisher.”

He scrunches his face at your choice of words, but plays along with you anyway. “Well, my Kaiser Impact shits on the opponents- AND my goal will be so batshit insane that the audience wishes they can see it coming.” He starts smirking, getting confident. “It’s going to be so fast that they’ll get a whiplash by simply witnessing it from their seats.”

You both start laughing over each other, while simultaneously throwing in add-on statements, glazing the absolute fuck out of your own signature shots.

“Yeah, your Kaiser Impact is the most beautifully destructive weapon I’ve ever seen.”

For a moment, Kaiser pauses. He stares at you, eyes blown wide. What the fuck? You, the most demented, narcissistic player of all of Bastard München Academy, just complimented him?

He suddenly feels light-headed. Like he could vomit on the spot.

“Oh, you should probably start wearing your clothes too. Wouldn't want Coach to get all pissy at you for being late again. Would we?”

You smile cheekily at him, throwing his pants over his head.

Maybe he’s caught a cold, or gotten sick from being bare-skinned in the air-conditioned room for quite awhile. Because at that moment, you start to seem less annoying and he starts to find your company more.. enjoyable. He can't help but feel excited at the notion of the both of you talking again.

Yeah, he's definitely gonna throw up if he keeps this up.

Somehow, it fuels his desire to devour you on the field. He needs to destroy you- as beautifully as you described his Kaiser Impact.

© littlemissferret 2024 ✦ do not repost, translate or modify .

yippeeee the plot thickens !! reader's the one that introduces meta vision to kaiser 😼

- kaiser is now reader's little vomit bug - think i got abit too soft on their interactions for the bottom half... i was listening to sweet love songs

CHRONICLES OF HOUSECATS

sypnosis: introducing your cats to your boyfriend (gone wrong)

no prns used (reader). established relationship with isagi. kaiser & ness are cats. cw: swearing. bleeding (isagi). socially awkward/awkwardly social isagi. loser bf isagi.

“This is Michael, but I call him Mihya- he prefers the nickname.”

The blond cat purrs in content, rubbing his fluffy face on your shoulders as he leans his furry body onto your chest. You rub his tiny chin with your index finger in response to his affection, while supporting his weight with your left arm under his feline bum.

You then gesture towards the other cat pawing at your ankles, “That’s Alexis. I sometimes call him ‘Lexis. Three syllabus is a mouthful when you’re constantly calling for your cats.” Alexis has a body of fur with a beautiful gradient- roots of caramel brown to ends of.. magenta?

Isagi bites down his tongue. He doesn’t dare to question the genuinity of the cat’s coloured fur out loud.

Holding Michael to your chest, you squat down to pick up Alexis with your free arm. Who then starts purring, licking your face in content.

You squirm away from him, pulling your face towards Michael instead. “No kisses, ‘Lexis.” To which Alexis responds with a noise that sounds akin to a pathetic whine.

The football player offers you a meek smile, “Wow. Your cats really like you, huh?” He’s heard rumours of cats’ behaviour being either disinterested or a complete hellspawn. So this isn’t what he had expected when you told him that you have two free-loading furry slackers at home waiting for you.

You scoff at his observation, “No one else feeds them, if not for me. Of course they would act like suck-ups.” Michael smugly licks his own paw while Alexis only stares up at you- is that cat smiling??? Isagi feels unsettled being in close proximity with the magenta cat.

Thankfully for him, you place both the cats down onto the sofa behind where you’re standing.

You turn around to face Isagi. “So.. What do you think, Yoichi?” You smile bashfully at him, “You ready to be a cat dad yet?” You tease.

At those words, both of your cats’ ears perk up. Alerted at the new-found information, Alexis shoots his head up at you, eyes wide in betrayal- like you just told him he’s adopted or something.

… Which he technically would be.

Michael starts meowing loudly, leaping onto your back and excessively pawing at you for your attention.

“Oh, uhm-” Isagi chokes out in a high-pitched voice, “If.. If you don’t mind- and if they’d like to, of course.” Poor boy’s a blushing mess.

This is it, Isagi thinks. A new stage into your long-term relationship. All those heartfelt conversations, romantic dates and good, quality time spent together has brought you both so far. He feels elated, happy that you trust him to take care of your.. ‘furbabies’ with you, together. As a couple.

You chuckle at his reaction. Cute, almost 2 years into the relationship and he’s still easily flustered over a few words. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, he instinctively places a hand on your hip. You flutter your eyes shut, leaning in for a sweet kiss.

“MPMH- !”

Michael, that little shit, JUMPED on Isagi’s face.

“Mihya, get off him.”

“MREOW” 

“Bad, Michael.”

“MREOWWWWW”

Isagi wishes you would take action instead of trying to negotiate with a goddamn cat.

“Ugh, this is why I can never bring people over,” you frown at the blond cat’s refusal to budge. “Get over it, Mihya. He’s your dad now.”

For reasons unknown to you, that statement makes Michael even more hissy as he starts swatting his paw at Isagi’s head.

Bless Isagi and his tolerance to your cat’s riotous attacks, as you finally actually start to pull Michael off of him.

Michael hisses and wiggles in protest, still swinging his paws at Isagi’s direction as you grab and hold him from his armpits.

“There, there. My rampageous little hiss machine HK433.” You speak of those words so affectionately, one would think that you’ve called him the sweetest pet name ever. Not.. whatever the hell you just said.

But Michael isn’t the only unhappy feline in the room right now. Alexis is currently smiling(?) up ominously at Isagi, who suddenly feels really unsafe.

“Uhm. Honey.. I think this one’s- YEOUCH!”

You look down to see Alexis’ fangs digging into the skin of Isagi’s left foot.

“ALEXIS!”

His eyes widen as he quickly sits up, staring up at you with his big, glossy, guilty eyes.

“Mrrrrp,” Alexis begs for your forgiveness, rubbing his head onto your thigh as you sat down on the floor to pull him away from Isagi’s feet.

Curse his cutesy furry face because you find it hard to scold the little gripper biter.

Crossing your legs, you place the two cats on your lap then start inspecting your boyfriend’s injury.

“It’s bleeding, Yoichi. You should wash it off.” You furrow your brows as you touch the broken skin around the fresh wound. “The bathroom’s that way, I’ll help you disinfect it- in a bit, after I lock these two up. Do you need help getting there?”

“It’s alright, It doesn’t hurt at all.” He assures you, holding in his (tears of) anguish, “It’s not that bad, I’ll be able to walk fine!” He wheezes out, limping his way (in pain) to the bathroom. As long as he can get as far away as he can from those two little fluffy imps, he’d even crawl with his limbs mangled.

After putting up a small fight, you manage to lock those two devilish furballs up in their ‘bad-boy-corner’, which is just a cage- oddly filled with comfortable cushions and colourful soft toys considering that it's a supposed ‘jail’ served for punishment to misbehaving felines.

Michael immediately starts whining and yowling, pathetically reaching his paws out of the cage.

Your lips tugged down into a frown at his pitiful display, “You’re not guilt-tripping me this time, Mihya. Save your dramatic act for the talent shows.”

The blond cat immediately stops his little masquerade, and narrows his eyes at you.

Next to the huffy cat, Alexis meows for your attention. He rubs his head against the cage, wanting to feel your touch of comfort.

You frown, “Sorry, ‘Lexis. No pats until you both learn to not attack Yoichi.”

Both cats have their ears pinned to the back in disdain at the mention of your lover’s name. Right, that second-rate football player that you’re seeing. For two years, apparently. Without them noticing. The betrayal!

They should’ve known better that your weekly ‘business trips’ were just sleepovers at Isagi’s place. That the unpleasant scent all over you and your belongings were not of your colleagues’, but of that stupid Yoichi’s. 

Michael starts growling at his predicament. Him! Locked up in the ‘bad-boy-corner’! It’s been months since he had last been punished. Not even when he knocked down your things on your vanity because he wanted to watch you do your eyeliner, but this guy, Yoichi, came out of nowhere and broke his good boy streak!

Alexis stares sadly at the direction of where you walked off to aid Isagi with his wound. He feels guilty- not at all for the bite, but for upsetting you. He had never upset you before! Stupid Yoichi is the problem, all he did was show up and now suddenly both him and Michael are in trouble! He notices that his furry friend isn’t happy with the man, too. He will have to cook up a plan to get rid of the football player.. Out of here and away from you, at the very least.

Oh, well. For now they’ll have to figure out how to get themselves out of the cage, though.

© littlemissferret 2024 ✦ do not repost, translate or modify .

i love isagi, i really do. but there's always this strong urge to bully him and make him a cringefail loser bf.

- might be bcuz he received zero chocolates for valentines day. - never thought i'd write kaiser nor ness meowing but here i am.

Meet Cute

Micheal Kaiser x GN! Reader

No warnings, just pure fluff! Reader is in college and from America. Reader is an anxious mess and a football fan. Apologies if the german is shit, I did my best. This fic is kinda scuffed but I wanted it to be done lol

“S–Sind Sie Michael Kaiser?” You blurt out, before mentally face palming at the stupidity of your own question. He laughs again, a slightly smug look on his face at being recognized before responding. “Ja, ich bin Michael Kaiser.”

A shiver runs down your spine as you peruse the selection of the ice cream tucked away in the freezer section, but you can’t help but smile to yourself at the welcome sight.

Yes, it was that time again, that familiar time in every college student’s life, the time to eat away your feelings after struggling your way through midterms.

Fuck midterms.

And fuck proper societal conventions as well.

Because here you are, in your pajamas, doing a late night grocery run and regretting it with every strange look served your way.

Sometimes you forget that you aren’t in America anymore, and your people-of-Walmart activities will inevitably lead to your downfall, but at least that day isn’t today.

Well, it was a small mercy that no matter where you were in the world, whether in Germany or America, that at least ice cream was a true constant that remained in your life.

You analyze the see-through fridges with slight disappointment as you realize the selection you have to work with is slightly smaller than what you’re used to, although maybe upon further inspection you’d find it refreshing not being swung at visually by 15 brands in one shelf, all desperately vying for your attention.

Either way, you find yourself drawn to the same flavor you always pick, a true creature of habit, and you pull open the fridge door to grasp at the item of your choosing.

At least you are until you find your hand colliding with another, a silent gasp parting your lips before you pull your hand back in surprise.

“Sorry!” You blurt out before realizing your mistake. “...err, I mean– entschuldigung!”

(Your German is hardly passable to be frank, but you figure you should at least try speaking the language of the country hosting you for the semester.)

Anyway, the sound of your stilted dialect is enough to bring out a light chuckle from the person, the man judging by the timbre of the voice, next to you and you finally look over to see…

Holy shit.

Is that Micheal fucking Kaiser?

You stare shell shocked at the blond superstar soccer (football, you correct in your head) player next to you, as he begins to speak.

“Kein Problem.” He says smoothly, and you have to make a conscious effort to shut your slightly parted mouth as you continue to stare at him with widened eyes.

At this point, the best thing you could do for yourself would be to grab your ice cream, pay and leave before you embarrassed yourself, but unfortunately for you, your mouth didn’t catch the memo.

“S–Sind Sie Michael Kaiser?” You blurt out, before mentally face palming at the stupidity of your own question.

He laughs again, a slightly smug look on his face at being recognized before responding. “Ja, ich bin Michael Kaiser.”

You feel your cheeks start to burn in embarrassment as the realization dawns on you that you’re standing in front of a world class athlete in the middle of a grocery store in a wrinkly, old, oversized t-shirt and shorts.

“Sie möchte ein Autogramm?” He asks amusedly, giving you a subtle once over that you normally would have missed had you not been so self conscious.

“Ja, bitte.” You say, fishing for a pen and paper in your bag.

“...I don’t normally look like this, I swear.” You can’t help but add as you find your paper and pen, switching over to English out of a combination of embarrassment and lack of language knowledge.

“You don’t?” He asks lightly, humoring you and switching over to English before taking the pen and paper out of your hands. “I would have thought you looked like this everyday.”

“What, messy?” You ask in a light tone despite being slightly offended as he scribbles his name on the paper.

“No.” He says with a smirk as he finishes, handing you the paper. “Gorgeous.”

You blink at him for a moment before you feel your cheeks warm up again, averting your eyes to the side to avoid his gaze as you try to process the fact that a celebrity, more importantly, an attractive celebrity is flirting with you.

“Ah– um, well I– uh, thank you.” You eventually get out before willing yourself to look back at him, your stomach doing a flip as you see the same smirk on his lips that you’re used to seeing on TV.

“Kein Problem.” He repeats again, that same amused lilt in his voice. 

“I mean–” You start again and you feel yourself regretting the fact that you decided to speak again. “For both uhm, the autograph and the compliment.”

You pause for a bit, unbelievably flustered, before you blurt out. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m so awkward, I’m just gonna leave now.”

He laughs at this, his eyes seeming to soften a bit before he speaks in a quieter tone, almost as if he’s afraid to scare you off. “No you’re fine… it’s cute.”

Your heart thumps in your chest rapidly, like you’ve just gotten done running a marathon, and you feel the heat rush to your face along with a fluttering feeling in your stomach. All these sensations combine to force a rather undignified sound from deep within yourself, sounding equivalent to a mouse caught in a glue trap.

You feel your face heat up further from the strangled sound that emitted from your very being and scrunch your eyes shut for just a moment away from Kaiser’s prying gaze.

When he laughs, you feel the embarrassment return tenfold, although the fluttering feeling in your heart might just be also because of the rich timbre of his chuckle.

“Hey, look at me.” He says after a few seconds, and despite your longing to keep your eyes closed you can’t help but obey his command.

So, slowly you open your eyes, taking in the sight of his handsome visage, his lips quirked up in a smile and it almost feels painful how your heart thuds.

“...what?” You question weakly.

“Just needed your eyes on me for a second while I do this.” He says before leaning over ever so slightly to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, his hand lingering at the apex of where your ear meets your cheek before finally pulling away.

“...” You can’t help the way you gape at him, momentarily speechless as he takes in your facial expression with his signature smirk.

“Sorry Liebling, your hair was bothering me.” He offers up as an explanation, but you can tell from the delighted gleam in his eye that he’s lying.

“Y–yeah, right.” You stutter out despite your best efforts to remain unphased and straighten up. “Anyways, it was nice meeting you, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“No, it was a pleasure.” He says smoothly, and you can’t help the twinge of jealousy that runs through you at his composed demeanor. “Take care, would you?”

“Of course, y-you too.” You manage to get out, and he smirks at you one last time before confidently striding away from you, leaving you slightly shell shocked in the ice cream aisle.

It would be a while before you fully collected your thoughts after you paid and exited the store, and that’s why perhaps you didn’t notice three things in particular.

One, that you forgot to pick up the goddamn ice cream that you were so looking forward to getting. 

Two, that your beloved celebrity had also forgotten to get his ice cream that he was reaching for because he was also that flustered despite his confident demeanor.

And three, the little number written next to your autograph with the small written letters next to it “Ruf mich an <3”.

---

Taglist: @gigiiiiislife

this got me giggling and shit

CHRONICLES OF HOUSECATS [ part 1 , part 2 ]

sypnosis: you finally manage an uninterrupted date with isagi

no prns used (reader). established relationship with (loser bf) isagi. 2.2k wc. cw: nothing(?). made them a lot tamer for this (less chaos). kaiser & ness still cats ofc.

Do you remember the feeling of awkward cringe, when you watch third-rate actors on screen put on an act so atrociously bad? The kind of feeling that forces your skin to crawl- a chill sent down your spine while simultaneously warm blood rushes to your face from second hand embarrassment?

“MEOWWWW MRREOWWWWWWWWW”

Yeah, you’re feeling a whole hell of that right now. God, he’s so embarrassing…

You pinch the bridge of your nose, breathing in much needed fresh air to cool down the horrendous headache your darling housecats are causing you right now.

“Enough, Mihya. I told you to save your little theatrics for the talent shows.” You lift up the blue cat carrier to chastise him.

Michael bats his eyes, staring up at you with the eyes of a pitiful, heartbroken widow.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that,” You deadpan at his attempt to win you over. “C’mon, it’s just a spa. You love getting pampered, don’t you? Well, they’re gonna give you lotsss of love and attention there.”

He furthers his meowing and whining at you, pretending he didn’t hear allat. Determined to not drop his act anytime soon.

Isagi walks next to you, this sweet boy has been trying to hold your hands when you were busy arguing with your rebellious cat.

He finally manages to grab onto your hand, a smile blossoming onto his face as he internally celebrates his success.

“Um, will it really be okay for us to just leave them at the spa?” He eyes the magenta cat carrier in his other hand. “I mean, we can do this another time.. It’s not that much of a hassle, really.”

You intertwine your fingers with his, and start swinging your held hands. “It’s fine. Really!” You turn to him with a smile, “I bring them to the spa every two to three months anyway. Mihya usually loves it! He’s just being whiny for attention right now.”

Ignoring the blond cat’s yowls of protests, you continue, “Besides, I’m looking forward to this date with you-” You glance down at the blue carrier, “-without them interrupting this time.”

On your previous romantic dates with Isagi, the two cats had stalked and caught up with you both. Causing a scene every single time, thanks to Michael’s dramatics and Alexis’ surprising animosity towards your sweet boyfriend.

You swear Alexis is usually a good, well-mannered kitty. He never had any problems with strangers. Maybe he just doesn’t like Yoichi’s smell? You oughta talk to him about showing up right after practice in his stinky sweat drenched jersey.

You hum, stepping into the doors of ‘Magic Whiskers Pet Spa & Hotel’. The bell chimes, alerting the workers and other pets in the building of your arrival.

It doesn’t take long until the old manager walks up to greet you. “Hello there, dearie! Michael and Alexis back for their appointment?”

“Hi, gramps. And yeah, the usual, thank you.” Placing the cat carriers onto the counter, you open the locks for them.

Michael huffs, strutting out and stretching his legs, then immediately basks in the old man’s praises at his big boy stretch.

Little bastard giving you the silent treatment.

Alexis walks up to you the moment he’s let out of the cage. Purring as he rubs his head at your waist. Finally, he thinks. Normally he’s comfortable with his carrier but god when Isagi is the one handling him does it make the experience a hundred times less enjoyable.

Oh well, at least he’s in his second favourite place now. Being in the magic themed store slash spa makes him the happiest feline alive.

Great memories were created here in this magical place, after all.

“Good boy, ‘Lexis. You watch over Michael for me, yeah? He’s being a petty prick.” You whisper to the cat. “I’ll stock up on your favourite kibbles when I come back later.”

You scratch at the spot behind his little flicky ears, sinking in his purrs as you stare at Michael’s overgrown blond fur.

“Hmm. You know what, old man? I think you can try something new with them this time.”

The cats stare up at you curiously and the manager only gives you a warm smile.

“I thought you’d never ask. Leave them to me!”

—

“Ahh, some peace and quiet..” You sigh in bliss as you hook your arm with Isagi. You’re both now walking leisurely on the sidewalk. “Soo, what’s the plan, Yoichi?”

Isagi blushes when you turn to look at him, “Ah, right.” He fumbles with his jacket, “Well, I didn’t plan an itinerary or anything. But..”

He lists off the places you both can visit together, rambling off. Occasionally stuttering and tripping over his own feet.

You admire his side profile as he continues his meandering. He’s such a cutie, still so awkward and shy this far into the relationship.

You wonder if you’d get to more sides of him as you both continue to spend more time together.

“-so i think it’s really worth a visit too. You wanna go?”

His dorky smile paired with a soft blush on the apple of his cheeks. How could anyone say no to that?

You’d go anywhere this man brings you to.

“Sure. Anything for you, pretty boy.”

—

The faint smell of clay envelopes the both of you as you step foot into the pottery studio.

“Hello, we booked a session under the name Isagi Yoichi.” You glance around the cozy studio, admiring the array of works displayed. The muted colours of each piece of art blend well in the modernly designed room, adding a spark of personality to the mundane aesthetic.

“Yes, of course. Over here, please.” The receptionist brings you two to your designated workshop.

You place a thumb to your chin as you stare at the unpainted pottery in front of you. You never really had any plans to paint on some clay. Now that you think about it, you jumped at any idea Isagi had suggested- and pottery painting just happened to sound the most romantic to your dear Yoichi right now.

Oh, well. Now that you’re here with him, might as well show-off whatever amount of talent you have for painting.

Yoichi’s hand finds yours, before he quickly releases it to wipe off the sweat that has collected onto his palm.

“Sorry! I- It’s too hot in here, aha..”

Help this poor guy. So many dates into the relationship and he can hardly tell if you’re as excited as he is. Is your heart beating as quick as his right now? Do you feel the immense urge to hold him the same way he wants to hold you?

You choose to reach out for him, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Are you nervous about pottery painting? I’m sure you’ll do great, ‘Ichi.”

Ah, that’s not.. Yoichi sweatdrops. You have trouble reading him too, it seems. At least now he feels better about being unable to read you.

A talent to be reckoned with, really. How you both have been with each other for years and still stuck in the awkward guessing stage whenever you go out together.

But weakass communication skills aside...

Uh oh. What if you think of him as a loser, one that is jittery at the notion of.. painting?

No way! He’ll save this, he thinks. Right, he was good at arts and crafts back when he was in school. He can woo you with his crazy painting skills!

With newfound confidence, Isagi picks up an unpainted mug. A blank canvas- for him to turn into one of his creative works, and sweep you off your feet. He picks up a brush, brainstorming ideas of what he can paint onto the mug.

You browse the options, settling on matching mugs with Yoichi’s. Sitting by his side, you dip your brush into the paint of your choice, and start to draw strokes of what you have in mind onto the delicate surface of the mug.

“Has your season come to an end? You’ve been more free lately,” You ask, just to start a conversation. “As in, you’ve been coming over a lot more.”

Isagi’s mouth forms an ‘o’, “Right. Yeah, it's my off-season right now.” He pauses to think, “I’ll be free until next month, I guess.”

You hum at his answer, “You still practice a lot, even on your holidays.”

“Ah, well. That’s just..” He blushes, feeling a bit shy that you’ve noticed his passionate attitude towards football.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” You laugh at his embarrassment, “You love football. That much I know of.”

Isagi feels his heart flutter at that. God, you remind him of how much he loves you every time without fail. Doing so much to him while you haven’t even started on pampering him with kisses and sweet words.

He swears you’re perfect- just for him. You fit perfectly, providing all kinds of comfort and support that he never knew he needed. All on your own accord.

You love, care and recognize his dreams. What more could a man ask for?

The world's best lover for the world's best striker. (an overkill but he's delulu like that)

He swallows hard, wanting to let all the bottled up giddy feelings burst out and embrace you. He wants to make sure you know how much he loves and appreciates you.

Maybe he’s not the best with words. The peak of his creativity with verbal finesse is really just spitting flame on the field- something that he secretly hopes you’ll never get to witness.

Most he can do now is to paint what he loves the most- you, and his football of course, onto the mug.

With each delicate stroke of his brush, he carefully fills in the colours with love. Painting a simplified version of your general features, he then adds the football next to you. Ending the piece by tracing a giant frame of heart around both you and the ball.

He checks his work, scanning for any small mistakes then carefully writes ‘World’s #1 Striker’ onto the free space next to his painting.

He smirks proudly at that.

You send him a side-eye then chuckle at his satisfied look, touching up on the details and colours of your own piece of art.

Seems like you both share very similar sentiments in your paintings. You opt to paint what you love the most- your cats, with your lovely boyfriend in between.

Instead of acting up on your ego like him, though, you settled on painting mini hearts to fill out the free space.

Give it a week, and your mugs will be delivered back to you. The previously plain ceramics painted over with a sheen of love, reflecting the experience you both created and the bond you’ve both strengthened over the date.

—

“Meow”

Alexis runs up to you the moment you enter the door. Eagerly pawing up at your legs.

You notice his faded magenta is re-dyed, and his usual pressed down fur is now more fluffed up. The natural caramel brown is now more contrasting with the bright magenta.

“Hi, ‘Lexis. Did you have a good time?” You pick him up and start to kiss him all over his now very soft and fluffy fur. “I missed you too, baby. You look so pretty. Do you feel pretty?”

The now fluffier (re-dyed) magenta cat basks in your attention, lapping his tongue at your chin while purring happily.

The old man walks up to you with Michael strutting along next to him.

“I’ve given this one a whole makeover,” He muses, “Alexis was the one who chose that colour for him.”

Michael glances up at you proudly with his pretty blue eyes- now matching with the new dye he wears on his blond fur: on the top of his ears and the ends of his tail. His fur is noticeably shorter, and a little choppy around his head, framing his usual fluffy face.

It makes him look so silly, to be honest. But he’s so satisfied with it, you decide to not comment on the choppy part.

You do, however, comment on his new dye job.

“What a beautiful shade of blue,” You coo at him, giving into his attempt at flaunting for compliments. “Look at you, my little emperor. So royal.” His fluffy tail stands up high, and wags in approval.

Returning your attention to the old manager, you teasingly ask, “Were they on their best behaviour, old man?”

He chuckles and nods at the two cats now staring at him, “Yup. They’re good alright. I’d say they deserve some new toys and some premium kibbles.”

You smile, satisfied hearing his response. “Well, I did promise to restock Alexis’ favourite kibble.” You pick Michael up along with Alexis, then place them on the seat of a trolley nearby.

Turning to your idle boyfriend (who has been nervously eyeing a certain magenta cat), you ask, “Could you help me get the premium kibbles, ‘Ichi? I’ll bring these two around for them to pick their new toys.”

Isagi smiles crookedly, “Sure, honey.” He tries to shrug off the way the blond cat is narrowing his eyes at him, but mostly at the ominous smile the magenta one is sending him. “Take your time.”

He’ll just have to find a way to counter the two jealous kitties soon.

© littlemissferret 2024 ✦ do not repost, translate or modify .

a barking cat video made me write allat

- im ngl i feel kinda shy writing lovey dovey romance, u can tell its really stiff - probably will resort back to chaos dumping or maybe will try to put myself out there

Michael Kaiser — Stench

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 9k TYPE: Angst, Childhood friends, Making up, occasionally funny WARNING(S): Poverty, implied/referenced child abuse, house break-in, spoilers for Kaiser's backstory, if I missed something lmk NOTE(S): This is a two shot but I'm posting it here combined for my own convenience. The numerals show how the chapters are separated and indicates a long time skip.

I.

Someone’s coming closer and closer. It’s hard to catch Kaiser off guard — he’s sensitive to the slightest of sounds, so he can hear them approaching from behind without trouble, these sloppy footsteps slapping against the cement as if the owner is wearing really shitty shoes. He freezes with the ball still in his hands, doesn’t dare look back and check who it is, an irrational part of his brain suspecting it to be his father.

It takes a while for whoever it is to cross the distance, and then an unfamiliar voice rings, “Hey.”

Kaiser glances over his shoulder finally. You stand there, peering down at him while he’s sitting, cigarette spreading fumes in the air even though you don’t look any older than him. He doesn’t say anything to acknowledge you, though, just stares, tense and confused about your intentions.

You crouch down so you are at eye level with him. The bad smell follows, wafting by his nose and he holds down a cough on the off chance any noise might set you off and make you violent. You pull it out of your mouth and flick it away from him, apparently possessing enough decorum to stop blowing smoke in his face. “Why are you always doing that?”

“Huh?”

Kaiser knows what you mean, but he can’t help asking. After all he’d noticed you before all those times just like you’d noticed him. Every day you hang around the solitary playground at a distance while he messes around with the ball, though he never expected you’d speak to him. If anything you never pay much mind to each other.

You usually leave like you’re on some kind of schedule, but you’re up close to him now and he can see you’re in a similar condition to him — bruises and dirt littering your skin, tattered and ill-fitting clothes barely hanging onto your frame. The offenders behind your loud entrance he identifies as the torn pink fuzzy slippers he always sees you wearing, smeared with faded mud. Certainly not the most reliable footwear, but you’re in a better boat than he is on that front, what with him not wearing any shoes at all. Not his fault he outgrew his last pair, although naturally his father found a way to blame him. He’s creative like that.

“You’re always kicking the ball and punching the shit outta it.”

Embarrassed by the reasoning behind his behavior maybe, Kaiser averts his eyes. He hopes not responding will dissuade you from interacting with him.

It doesn’t work. “What’s your name?”

“… Michael.”

“So basic, but fine. I’ll call you Micha, ok?”

“You don’t need to call me anything.”

You offer your name in return. After taking another drag, you smile and ask, “How old are you?”

“Thirteen,” he says, figuring this is unimportant enough information that he can offer it without consequences until you grow bored and go away.

You grin at him and squint your eyes. The expression makes you seem smug for no discernible reason. “I’m fourteen, so I’m your senior. You can call me boss if you want. Got it, small fry?”

What an annoying attitude. He places the ball over his stomach and adjusts his position so he’s hugging his knees, this surly expression on his face. “It’s not even that big of a difference…”

“You sound so pensive when you talk. Hey, why do you kick the ball even though you don’t have shoes? Doesn’t it hurt?”

What else is someone supposed to do with a piece of trash except hurt it? Expressing such a sentiment out loud seems shameful, though. “Why are you smoking even when it’s bad for you and stupid and tacky? Why are you asking dumb questions even though you’re not getting anything out of it?”

You burst out laughing. “Woah, relax. Touchy.” When he doesn’t respond and instead continues scrutinizing you with scorn (which at this point you deem undeserved), you say, “I stole ‘em off someone. What’s stopping you from stealing a pair of shoes?”

“They’re too big to steal. It’s impractical.”

“You think small, but fair enough,” you say, before standing up, still grinning. Then you wave. “I’ve gotta go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, Micha.”

“Who said I want to see you?”

You laugh again as if his rejection is funny, but trudge on away from him. “C’mon, lighten up.”

Kaiser scoffs, pressing his cheek against the ball, tightening his hold against it. There is nothing to lighten up about.

___

Kaiser hasn’t taken any particular liking towards you, but you do hang out together every day since you approached him. He’s not sure why he tolerates your presence. Maybe because you’re resourceful — stealing is so much easier when you two coordinate. Or maybe it’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t seem to want to strike him down and strangle him.

Currently you’re at the playground again. The lighter you use has some ugly, childish print on it. Kaiser is trying to inflate his ball with the air pump you swiped together from a shop in town earlier after you made fun of how ‘sad and flat’ it was and came up with the idea. When he hears the flicker and then registers the smell, Kaiser asks, “How many do you smoke a day?”

“One is to be stylish. Two is if I didn’t appreciate the first one enough. Three is if I still don’t feel like shitting.”

Kaiser frowns in disapproval at the moronic remark. Funny in an ironic sort of way how this lifestyle has you sounding like a ridiculous, fake adult — neither child nor mature, but something else entirely. A different category of human. He wonders if you think the same about him. “You fucking smell. How many are there in a pack?”

“Twenty,” you say after uselessly flipping over the lid, even though for one it’s not full and you already know the answer anyway, so it’s not necessary to check.

“So if you smoke three a day then you have to… steal one every two weeks?”

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion at this assessment. “No, that’s not right. It’s like once or twice a week depending.” Then you do some weird counting on your fingers for a while. “But even if it was exactly three a week, that’s like six point six or some shit like that. Dummy.”

“Shut up, shithead,” says Kaiser, embarrassed.

“Ok.”

“Leave me alone. I didn’t think about it too much.”

“I’m not even saying anything.” A moment of silence passes until an enlightened remark comes to mind. “Hey, Micha.”

“What?”

You scoot a little closer to him. Kaiser gets nervous at first and freezes, but calms down when it seems you’re not inching your hands towards him. Though the relief is short-lived because then you take an exaggerated sniff of the air and grin. “You stink too.”

He glares at you.

The ball ends up fine. Sure, it’s still beat up and dirty as most things around him, but at least it’s functional enough to kick again, and that’s what’s important.

___

“What now,” says Kaiser with an attitude of being greatly inconvenienced before plopping down next to you on the sidewalk.

You continue counting, trying to keep track of how much money you have on you. A series of gross, dry coughs escapes your mouth. When the fit near passes, you spit on the ground as if to ease your throat, hitting your chest for good measure. Kaiser watches the display with an impassive look on his face. Eventually you turn towards him and ask, “What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Ok.”

“You’ve been quiet, not talking to me.”

“I’m gonna go get a haircut so I’m trying to see if I have enough,” you say, figuring he’s wondering about what you’re doing in a roundabout way.

Kaiser rams his head into his knees and makes some kind of noise which you can’t categorize between acknowledgement and disapproval.

You say, “Those children from the schoolyard were telling me having a bad haircut is ‘social suicide.’ Like ‘getting stabbed’ everyday. Apparently it’s the bowlcut that’s really shameful.”

“Other people have such stupid problems,” he says, irked, resentful. “I just cut it with scissors at home.”

“Yeah, man, I can tell. They wash your hair at the hairdresser though, so I wanna go now.”

“You really hang out with them? What do you even talk about?”

You shrug, pulling out a cigarette and then the hideous lighter. The smoke will waft by his nose again and irritate him. It’s unpleasant. The smell he associates with you is unpleasant, but it’s also yours so it’s kind of conflicting. “Recently I’ve been telling them I’m a ghost from the forest.”

Kaiser remains unamused the way you’ve always known him, but after some contemplation graces you with a snort, which makes you smile in return. He asks, “They don’t believe that. Right?”

“Maybe. They’ve got a what-do-you-call-it… You like football, don’t you?”

“A pitch.” He rolls his eyes as if forgetting the word is some kind of crime. Back he goes to frowning.

“Yea, they have that. You should sneak in with me sometime.” You shrug again as if the suggestion isn’t a big deal. “It’s fun.”

His nose scrunches at the thought, forehead wrinkling. It pisses him off just imagining it — truly a sickening concept. Why would you subject yourself to such a thing? Mingling with children who have nice things and an education and clean clothes and probably eat proper meals every night with their families. He doesn’t want to exchange pleasantries with people who can afford to concern themselves with social suicide. Stomach twisted in knots, Kaiser almost hurls, but somehow swallows the bile back down.

“Never,” he denies with finality.

“So dramatic, Micha.”

“Like you’re any better. You don’t care about anything. At all.”

At the sound of his tone getting more sulky than usual, you decide to spare him another glance. “Aww, are you tearing up?”

“No,” Kaiser lies, lips wavering. Unable to hold it in yet desperate to hide, he settles for covering his face with his hands, folding over himself. “I just fucking… hate this place. And I want out so… so bad.” Aside from the muffled sobs, there are also voice cracks littering his admission.

The thing is: you don’t really know what to do to make it all better.

___

Kaiser feels like he’s about to get a cramp from keeping his leg in this position for so long, lifted up and extended. Recently he stole a pair of sneakers from the thrift store, but the soles ended up falling off. Now you’re lathering everything in glue and wrapping it in tape in an attempt to salvage the situation.

“I’m not sure this is how it works,” he says. It’s kind of meek — a pathetic mumble — but you can recognize unwarranted criticism when you hear it.

“Take it or leave it.” You snap off the tape and move onto the next shoe.

When a snarky or otherwise offensive response doesn’t immediately come to mind, Kaiser resigns to silence. He continues observing you while you squeeze out copious amounts of glue. For a moment the only noises between you are those of your sniffles, the obnoxious huffing in of snot.

A few raindrops pour down, pelting your heads at the same time. You hiss when you realize your hard work is about to go to waste while all Kaiser provides in terms of reaction is a blink and a downwards twist of his lips.

“I don’t wanna go home,” you say, sounding distant, which he doesn’t hear from you much — usually there’s a lilt of amusement in your tone, some kind of playfulness lingering in all your words.

“I don’t either. It’s pointless anyway because you’ll get drenched by the time you go home and then there’s nothing to dry yourself with properly and it’s all one huge pain in the ass.”

“Right.” After signaling your agreement with his assessment, you shrug off your hoodie and stretch, trying to drape it enough so that it shields the two of you from the rain. Kaiser accommodates your goodwill by adjusting his position, scooting over next to you and cramming so he’s taking as little space as possible. It’s not an adequate cover by any means and you can tell his shoes will break apart again. But Kaiser is hugging you around the waist, resting his cheek against your neck, and you don’t have to deal with being at your place yet, so it can’t be all that bad.

___

“You look like a pufferfish,” you say unhelpfully.

Kaiser narrows his eyes at you in that way he tends to do which you haven’t seen anyone else replicate exactly. It’s kind of amusing when he does that, especially when one of them is irritated and droopy. “And you look like a spoiled apple.”

“Don’t mind. It’s a lot of bad things happening to me in that house.”

“I know,” says Kaiser.

You rub your cheek and then some more under your eye where the spots are the brightest. It makes him wince because your hands must be dirty, what with everything you two get up to in a day. Since Kaiser’s father strangles him, he’s always swollen and not so much bruised, but he thinks your parents must only leave it at punches while making up for it with enthusiasm. “I kinda like touching them when some time passes.”

“You’re sick.”

“Honestly I was, but it went away. I think I might have an ingrown toenail though.”

“No… I mean in the head.” To emphasize his point, Kaiser reaches out to probe your temple with his index finger. There’s another scratch blooming there, only coming to attention once his focus lands there, but it’s a waste of energy fixating on any of the small ones — he just can’t help but notice sometimes. “By the way, I don’t need to know what kind of toenail you have.”

You laugh, apparently finding his remark funny somehow. Then you reel your hand back before bringing it back down quickly as if you’re about to slap him. Still retaining his common sense, Kaiser flinches and tries to defend himself with his forearm. The reflex is foreign since he usually takes it lying down without moving an inch when it’s his dad.

His reaction makes you laugh harder for some reason, and you don’t smack him at all. Kaiser glares at you for your unfunny prank but you disregard it. Your hands settle around his throat instead, lightly tracing over the purple fingerprints, still fresh from last night. Almost immediately he clenches his teeth, tightlipped, breaking out into a sweat, expecting a harsh squeeze which never comes.

Kaiser wants to scold you for your idiotic behavior, yet he doesn’t. Maybe your hands aren’t for harm, he decides. And then he reaches out too, pressing his knuckle against the darkest contusion on your face. Your eye twitches closed. It turns into a strange fascination then, your skin touching his and his touching yours in places others had hurt. A ritualistic erasement.

___

You’re splitting the money again after selling off another valuable. It was some kind of fancy watch you two stole this time, more ballsy than usual. Once you pocket your share, you ask, “Are you saving up?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna move? Where?”

Kaiser shrugs. “I don’t care. Anywhere but here.”

You hum and walk ahead of him, probably looking for one of the drinking fountains in the area.

Either compelled by unusual curiosity or bothered by your silence, he says, “You wanna make it the fuck out of here too. Where would you go?”

“To the beach.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes behind your back, finding your answer stupid. Sure, the beach is an exotic idea considering he has never been to one, but all he can imagine is the sand sticking to his skin and the gross seaweed he’s seen in commercials inside stores and such. But on second thought both of these things are probably way less gross than the environment he spends every day in. He lets out a performative huff anyway and says ‘huh’ as if to demand an elaboration.

“I wanna be free like one of those seagulls that fly over the sea. D’you wanna be a seagull with me, Micha?”

“No. That’s dumb,” he says. You ignore him. Kaiser steels his nerves for a second and, after a dry swallow, takes a step so that he’s walking next to you rather than lagging behind. Then he brushes his fingers against yours lightly before making a sweaty, half hearted attempt at holding your hand. His cheeks are warm in a way he hasn’t felt them before. “Take me to your shitty beach someday.”

You make a more competent attempt at hand holding, grasping his fingers in yours until they’re interlacing, and then you swing your arms up and down. Kaiser has enough sense to be embarrassed by this, but doesn’t tell you to stop. He doesn’t know why, but this is the kind of contact he feels the need to savor. “So you do want to be a seagull.”

“Not interested.”

“You’re such a sourpuss, Micha, never playing along with anything.”

“It’s not my fault you make it sound dumb- Well, do you think it’s any use? Hoping for something like that…”

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

“I won’t give up,” he says. “I just don’t know if it’ll work.”

“Come on. We’re gonna get out of here together someday. That’s gotta work.” You lift his arm in the air next and try to make him spin like a dancer. Though Kaiser is used to standing still and limp and letting things happen to him, the attempt doesn’t come out successful. At most he does a slight twist.

“Yeah. Together,” he agrees, like a promise. He imagines messing around with you in the sand with the sun warming his skin in contrast to the perpetual chill he’s become used to. Honestly despite belittling the idea earlier, it doesn’t seem so bad in his mind.

___

Kaiser yawns while sitting next to you on a bench, eating a burger. Since you’re famous for your generosity and kindness and all (not), you decided to ‘splurge out’ by buying food for you both from some shitty hole in the wall. It’s the most filling meal you’ve had in a while. You’re still chewing when you ask, “Are you tired or something?”

He rubs his eyes. “My father was fucking making noises throwing up all night.”

“Ah, your worthless sperm donor.” You nod sagely in acknowledgement.

“Yea, him. It reeked too and when I went to clean it, there were whole chunks in his vomit.”

You scoff. “Don’t clean after him.”

“Not like anyone’s going to clean it if I don’t.” Two more yawns accentuate his sentence. You reach out to throw away the container. For a second you consider keeping the plastic cutlery and maybe washing it at the drinking fountain later, but that seems too desperate even for you. Kaiser says, “I’d take a nap right now if I could, but I don’t want to go back yet.”

“It’s sunny today for the first time in a while. Would be a waste.” You watch Kaiser while he wipes his mouth and his fingers with the napkin. The dark circles around his eyes are worse than usual. “You can lie down on me and sleep if you want.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yea, it’ll probably be really boring, but I’ll tolerate it,” you allow, ever so charitable.

Kaiser frowns, contemplating. He’s silent for so long, you forget you even suggested anything, but he eventually shifts around and rests his head on your lap, tense. You rake your fingers through his hair. “Don’t smoke,” he warns, but it’s kind of difficult to act butthurt when you’re being so… gentle with him.

“I won’t.”

“Seriously, don’t smoke right now.”

“I said ok already.”

Now that the matter is settled, he decides to trust you and flutters his eyes closed. Though your thighs and the bench aren’t the most comfortable places in the world, to Kaiser who only knows the cold hard floor, such an opportunity is borderline luxurious. The tang of the cigarettes clings even to the fabric of your pants, to your fingers — his favorite smell. You continue stroking his scalp and he dozes off with ease within minutes. Even though he’s snoring already, he moves to wrap his arms around your knee as if he feels a compulsive need to hold onto something in his sleep.

Kaiser looks surprisingly peaceful and precious right now. You hope he’s having a nice dream if any. A long stretch of ennui is ahead of you.

___

The antics have been ramping up as of late. In your defense, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to resist urging Kaiser to break in with you when you noticed the house with the open first floor window, clearly vacant. Though at first he displayed kleptomaniacal tendencies and wanted to rummage through the drawers for anything expensive, you deemed it too risky since you had no idea when the owner would come back. And then you told him you were merely interested in taking a proper shower.

Now you’re almost dry, waiting for Kaiser to finish. You can’t remember the last time you were so free of grime. Wearing the old clothes again almost feels shameful, like a step back. You sniff your armpit like a weirdo and realize your skin smells good .

Kaiser takes a while to come out and emerges looking like he underwent some kind of magical girl transformation. He’s trying to soak up the water from his hair with a towel, sending specks flying everywhere and dripping down his shirt when you blurt out, “You’re handsome.”

In a fashion you’d consider comedic, he stops dead in his tracks to gape at you with flushed cheeks. “What?”

“Your face is pretty.” He blinks. A crease appears on his forehead in apparent disapproval, though you’re not sure what he’s mad about (it’s a compliment!), especially when he’s still blushing. You make a vague hand gesture near your head to clarify your next point, “Try untangling it with your fingers.”

It takes Kaiser a good few seconds to get with the program before he twitches to attempt and follow your advice, but you both freeze when you detect the unmistakable sound of a door closing and locking downstairs. You push him back into the bathroom and close it behind yourself as gently as possible. Then you drag him back to the tub and gesticulate incomprehensibly some more to signal you should both get in and hide before sliding in behind the curtain and reclining on your side. Kaiser follows after you, but you think you might be doomed. It’s still wet, too, which is unpleasant, but not a priority considering the upcoming disaster.

Kaiser opens his mouth to speak, so you clamp it shut with your palm before putting your index finger over your lips. He embraces you, and he’s trembling, and then he hides in your neck as if you’re going to save him from whatever is about to come.

Like you’d assumed, the house owner enters almost immediately. You’re nauseous, stomach clenching. Kaiser is making a stunning impression of a corpse the way he’s not even breathing anymore in his attempt at being quiet. Your muscles are so tense on alert that it hurts and each passing second puts you more on edge.

Thankfully the flush comes and then the running water and then the person leaves with a click. Their footsteps get fainter and fainter until another door opens and closes. You stand and step out, trying not to make a noise still. Before going out into the hallway you throw a glance over your shoulder just to make sure Kaiser is still walking behind you, which he is.

Your movements are slow and light. The escape, especially while making your way down the stairs, is drawn out and excruciating. You hop out through the window you came in from. There you are outside, somehow without incident.

You turn to look at Kaiser again once you hear the rustle of the grass accompanying his jump. With the adrenaline still kicking, you break out into a sprint, eager to get far away. Kaiser catches up to you and you burst out laughing but you’re not even sure why, since you don’t find any of what transpired particularly amusing. A slight smile appears on his face when he recognizes the sound.

___

The next day you notice Kaiser isn’t at the playground, even though he always gets there before you do. No biggie — you can exert some patience.

After a while you start tapping your foot. It’s not like you have a watch to check what the time is or how long it’s been or a phone to ask him where he’s at. So you settle on putting on a show of irritability.

Nothing. Your legs hurt so you go sit down on the swing. You’re getting pretty old for the playground anyway, you think as you pull out a cigarette and light it, eyes darting around. Parents and their children, but no sign of Micha.

You exceed your usual three and end up burning half the pack in your attempt to occupy yourself during your waiting. It relaxes you usually, smoking, when you have a lot of shit juggling around your brain, but it doesn’t work this time.

Did something happen?

… Did his dad finally kill him?

___

Kaiser doesn’t show up at the playground ever again no matter how many times you go.

___

It’s another day where you need to shield your eyes from the sunlight with your hand. You’ve been seeing more of those since you ran away. Must be allegorical or some shit.

From your peripheral vision, while you walk down the street, you pass by a store that has one of those TVs on display, playing a sports game. You spare a moment to look, intrigued, nostalgic in a way — it reminds you of when you were little, when that kind of thing was more common.

They’re playing football, you realize, and you find that evocative too. Some guy scores a goal and they zoom in on him even though he’s not celebrating, instead choosing to stand there like a statue with his arms crossed. Like he’s too cool to get excited, which strikes you as obnoxious.

Then they show his face in full, up front.

You know that face. You’d recognize that face anywhere.

The back of his jersey reads ‘Kaiser’ and yet you never knew him as anything besides his first name.

At first you’re relieved considering you were under the impression catastrophe must’ve befallen him, but the solace doesn’t last long. When the realization hits, your eyes widen and your lips fall into a thin line. It's similar to a punch in the gut how all the air seems to vacate your chest. All this wind around you and you can’t get any.

The only person you ever loved left you behind without a second glance in your direction.

___

II.

Michael Kaiser is mildly inconvenienced. Billions injured on the scene and millions more will die.

So maybe he’s been ranting at someone who he didn’t even glance at, eyes closed, mind way too lost in his reverie. A part of his brain doesn’t even comprehend he’s in fact speaking to a person instead of a cardboard cutout. It’s to his complete shock and bafflement when after so much babbling he receives a reply. “Hey, Mr. Kaiser was it? Shut the fuck up.”

He flutters his eyes open to give the ingrate a glare and speak his mind some more, but he freezes on the spot at the sight in front of him. His blood runs cold, heart stuttering in his chest.

He’d know that face anywhere, even if right now it’s more unamused and neutral — nothing like the expressions in his memories. He’s not sure why his body is reacting like this either, tensing up with a nervous jitter in his system.

Wasn’t he supposed to have left all that stuff in the past? Yet a single look at you is enough to cause this response: this uncertainty, like he’s still a little boy who veers towards hopeless and incompetent, and fuck, why are you giving him such a dead stare?

Do you not recognize him?

Do you not love him anymore?

It’s a rash thing to focus on as his immediate concern especially when he hasn’t been killing himself with worry over you or anything during your years apart, but right now when you’re in front of him it’s all he wants to know. Which is cruel and selfish in a way, in his specific Kaiser-ish way, how he’s first preoccupied with himself before he wonders about your state of mind or living situation. A need to bait for a sign you still care about him torments him even if it might be drastic right off the bat.

When no ingenious idea for such a thing comes to mind and Kaiser realizes he’s been staring at you like a moron, he says, “Don’t call me Mr. Kaiser. It makes me sound old and decrepit.” And that isn’t what you of all people should be referring to him as.

You continue assessing him in a manner which can be described as judgmental at best. “Isn’t that what you said your name is during your little monologue?”

“You already know what my name is.” The awkward silence which follows is almost unbearable. Kaiser scratches himself on the neck even though he’s not itchy just to pass the time. Finally he snaps, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Sorry to break it to you, sir, but most employees anywhere aren’t happy to listen to ten minute long demented tirades about non-problems.”

“Well maybe I overreacted a little,” concedes Kaiser and gives you what he thinks is a suave smile in an attempt at downplaying how uneasy he is. He thinks you can feel it. He thinks you’re doing it on purpose, hurting him with intention. “Are you seriously going to act like you don’t know me?”

Your pitiless gaze sticks to him like glue even when you take out the ice cubes and throw a generous amount into his drink before sticking a paper parasol in it with lots of spite, which is what the big stink he threw a tantrum over was all about. Kaiser wants to tell you that you’re very hot when you’re no longer a starving punching bag, but thinks better of it. Doesn’t seem charming even coming from him. 

“There.” You slide the cup across the counter towards him. “I fixed your shitty smoothie.”

“It’s not a smoothie!”

“A mocktail is basically juice.”

Wrapping his fingers around it, Kaiser doesn’t leave. Instead he chooses to stay and observe you in silence, jaw clenching.

“You can go.”

“I’m not going until you admit you know who I am.”

“What, are you famous or something?” you ask, bemused.

Kaiser is on the cusp of hypertension because you’re doing it on purpose and you’re not even doing it well because you want him perfectly aware of what you’re up to. You’ve never done this — hurt him before, let alone by design — so Kaiser almost assumed you were incapable of it. Though it makes sense that you are. After all, you’re the same type of inhuman he is, and he’s done this if not worse hundreds of times, and even reveled in it. Yet the realization you’re not what he remembers of you stirs disillusionment within him. The nature of it, he doesn’t quite grasp.

Kaiser contemplates causing a scene more than he already has, but he’s not sure how to do so while still getting what he wants. Trying to joke even though above all he wants to throw a tantrum, he whines, “You’re so immature.”

“I’m sorry that my reaction to getting threatened with a lawsuit over ice cubes was immature, Mr. Kaiser.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!”

Your exterior remains listless and vacant, and Kaiser wants to scream the longer you scrutinize him in this manner. Eventually you spin your finger near your temple as if to call him delusional, then move onto taking the order of someone else.

His eyes narrow until you’re so blurry he can barely see you, perhaps either to censor you from his sight or because a milder expression wouldn’t suffice in communicating his disdain. With a final grit of his teeth and maybe a visible vein on his forehead, Kaiser stands up to leave. Fine. You win this one, but it’s war now.

The scorch of the sand under his feet startles him. He kind of forgot how hot it was, what with getting so distracted. Another comeuppance on a list of many. Today is punishment.

Dramatic inner soliloquy aside, Kaiser makes it back to the beach bed quickly, still reeling over that interaction. You’re here? You’re here, in front of him again, and apparently you’re not too happy to see him.

In the most disinterested tone he can muster, Sae asks, “Did they fix your smoothie?”

“It’s not a fucking smoothie!” With the grace of a lobotomized koala, Kaiser drops it over the small table separating them and barely resists the urge to hurl it at Sae. This would do wonders for his mental health short term, but again he’s trying to feign decorum.

With his trademark deadpan, Sae pretends none of that just happened. Kaiser turns around to look back at the hotel bar where you’re gesticulating at your coworker. Both of you seem immensely annoyed, wild and animated while you converse.

“Fuck, they’re totally complaining about me.”

Sae follows the line of direction through which Kaiser is stalking you. After a few seconds of analysis, he says, “Those are definitely the ‘this shit stain just threatened to sue me,’ ‘wow, really, what the hell’ faces.”

Kaiser snaps his head to look at him with genuine surprise. “What- How’d you know?”

“... You’re so embarrassing, it’s predictable.”

“And you’re annoying,” he says. “I’ll tell Coach to get rid of you and airdrop me Ness.”

“It’s cute that you think the coach cares about your opinion on me enough to replace me. The same as thinking the strippers at the club like you, in a way.”

There is a while of silence where Kaiser’s just snarling while Sae seems like he couldn’t give less of a shit. Then he adds his finisher,

“Or I guess in your case it’s like thinking the bartender actually cares about your order.”

Oh, fuck this vacation.

___

The heat is unbearable.

You step out into the sun and saunter up the wooden path to take your break away from the beach. Sweat has been exuding from your skin for the last few hours. Even so when you make it to the sidewalk, you keep your eyes trained on the scenery as you trudge on to your destination. The sand, the sea, the plants — some natural and some artificial.

Before long your legs take you to your usual street vendor, where you’ll order a shitty pancake that won’t do much to nourish you, but it’ll be so sweet that you’ll be too nauseous to get hungry for a while. The queue isn’t unbearable.

Not until you sense someone hovering behind you, followed up by a hand settling on your shoulder. You turn around to grace the offender with a disgusted side glance, but you’re so baffled to see Kaiser there, you just… freeze.

He’s sneering at you. In fact he looks so happy with himself, you want to vomit. Preferably on him.

“What a coincidence,” he says without even a sliver of shame.

You roll your eyes and face front again, deciding it’s in your best interest to feign ignorance to his existence. Taking this as a sign to elevate the antics to a more obnoxious level, Kaiser resigns himself to the role of one of those domesticated leeches, hanging off you now, fully wrapping his arm around your shoulders. His gaze is burning into your side profile to the point it’s unnerving and you can feel the artificial smugness emanating from his form.

“I thought we were done talking yesterday.”

“Really? You did? How naive,” he coos at you mockingly.

It is convenient that during this time of need — when you’re lacking a good comeback — your time to order comes up. You talk to the guy working about your aforementioned shitty pancake. The moment you shut your mouth, however, Kaiser starts listing off things you’re not even keeping track of like you’re hanging out together or something.

With a mild dispute over whether it’s ‘backwards’ that they do not accept payment through a card, which makes you want to die because you’re a regular here and now the employee who knows you by face will associate you with this pest, Kaiser pays for your thing, too. On the one hand you’re prideful, but on the other you’ve lived the life of a bottomfeeder who takes every scrap they’re given without question, and it’s the kind of conditioning you can’t let go of. So you allow it.

He ends up with an inordinate amount of food in his hands, too much for one person to eat. You’re still doing your ignoring shtick even when Kaiser pulls you down to sit next to him on the table. Content with pretending he doesn’t exist as he is dead to you, you bite onto your food in relative peace, mind drifting somewhere else. Until he speaks that is. “This must be our fateful meeting.”

“I don’t see what’s so fateful about it if you followed me?”

Unbeknownst to you, Kaiser too is adept at the ‘hearing only what he wants to hear’ game. So he moves on with the conversation without any indicator of comprehending what you just said. “I think it’s quite ironic, actually.”

“What are you on about now?”

“You told me you want to go to the beach once. And where do I find you? On the beach. It's an astral influence, I’m sure.”

“Ah? I don’t remember telling you that.”

You’re blinking at him in mild confusion. This hurts Kaiser a hundred times more than when you were deliberately going out of your way to act dismissive of him because he can tell you mean it. To think one of the moments he clung onto the most had slipped your mind.

His eyes are wide and his lips stand still in a thin line, so he forces himself to smirk again and glosses over the information which just shattered him. “So you admit you know me then?”

“No, Mr. Kaiser, I have no idea who you are. I’m thinking you should admit yourself to a hospital. They say false memories are an important symptom in psychopathology.”

“Very funny. I prefer Micha or at least Michael, though.”

“Do I give a fuck?”

He scowls at you. “Yes.”

You finish off your pancake and wipe your hands with the napkin in mild disgust. Kaiser laughs at the wrinkle of your face while you do so, and then he scoots an inch closer.

“Help me finish it all off.” He gestures at all the paper plates.

Pinching between your fingers, you tug the first thing that seems appetizing closer to your side of the table. Kaiser scoops up some of the portion for himself and dumps it in another meal. You ask, “Why are you trying to suck up to me?”

“Aw, is it so wrong to want to treat my closest friend?”

You scoff. The movement of your eyelids fascinates Kaiser — you never really showed any annoyance towards him before, so he finds these expressions of distaste fascinating even if they make him sick. “We haven’t seen each other in four years, so if I’m still your closest friend somehow, that’s just sad. Be for real if you’re gonna be anything.”

“You’re being so difficult! What did I even do?!” To be honest, he’s lying and his gaze isn’t even shying away from you while he’s lying, not even a twitch. He knows you, so he knows that you’re mad he couldn’t be assed to tell you where he went even though he obviously could. He thinks playing dumb might be more in his favor here, though, so he’ll do that. “I don’t even like going to the fucking beach. I’ve been going every year to different places searching for you.”

The unbridled perturbation on your face upon hearing this is quite amusing. Priceless even. You were calling him crazy merely for the sake of fucking with him, and perhaps it was your earnest attempt at gaslighting him but you’re not about to admit it. Right now, though, you think he is genuinely insane.

“You’re saying that to appease me,” you accuse, hoping you’re correct, but also not. The idea he might’ve thought about you like you did about him while you were separated enthralls you, though you can’t let him win you over his bullshit.

“Maybe,” says Kaiser, trying to be mysterious.

Since he obviously wants you to ask him for an elaboration, you deny him the satisfaction.

“How much do you make working at that shitty bar?”

“Enough.”

“I should take you back to Spain with me,” Kaiser decides. With too much confidence at that. “You’d have anything you could ever want.”

It is not like it was before. He’s not acting the way he used to. You suppose you aren’t either. But anyway, you thought it inconceivable that he would ever joke — is he joking? — or make the absurd statements he’s been making. It’s natural, in a way, since you’re also not of the same temperament as before.

With a huff, you say, “You’ll never be my sugar daddy, Kaiser.”

“You’re no fun nowadays.” There’s an amused lilt in his tone while he sneers — you think the way he smiles is fake. You recall he was kind of quiet and awkward and stilted, unnatural at first maybe because he was out of practice in communicating with others, but now he speaks with insincere charisma, like a showman. Yet still the things he says so casually are off-kilter, ruining whatever illusion he’s attempting to sell. “And I said to call me Micha.”

“I don’t need to call you anything.”

It’s all about the metamorphosis. It’s about becoming each other so you’re never truly apart.

___

You’re crouching under one of the tropical trees overlooking the road, by the wooden path leading down the beach. The shade is insufficient and the soles of your feet digging into your ass to the point it hurts. Before your break, the thought of smoking a cigarette had entered your brain so you obeyed it as it was too pervasive even though you don’t enjoy lighting up anything during such weather, believe it or not.

Your eyes are glossy since you’re spacing out, taking puffs. When two silhouettes come to a halt right in front you, only then does the absentminded trance end.

Kaiser waves at you with unnecessary enthusiasm which is just for show. They’re late, arriving way past their usual time. Earlier when he and his companion didn’t show when you expected them to, you assumed maybe their vacation ended and they’d headed home.

The other guy is sullen, but at least his eye lashes are long, which must count for something. After sparing you a glance, he turns towards Kaiser and says judgmentally, “You’re still harassing staff.”

“I’m not har-”

Not giving a shit, the other guy straight up leaves, not bothering to participate in the discussion on a topic he brought up. You watch in mild bafflement as he walks off without a care.

“Ignore him,” Kaiser says. A plastic smile overtakes his face before he squats down next to you, butting into your body with his and almost toppling you over. This is probably bad for his knees, and you’re half exposed to the sun now. Somehow he has created several problems where there were none. “You still smoke.”

You don’t reply, but maintain the common decency not to blow any in his face. He should stay away from you. Isn’t he an athlete? Shouldn’t he be cautious about secondhand smoke? You consider putting it out altogether, then, so you stub it in the almost empty can of the fizzy drink you’d been drinking earlier.

“What kind of lighter do you have now? Has your taste gotten any better?”

No response again. He places an arm around your waist. Through touching you so often it’s like he’s trying to hammer it into your head that you were close, and yet intangible things seem to evade Kaiser, so maybe he’s struggling to conceive of any other way to reestablish your connection.

“You still smell the same. Like nicotine.”

“Well, you smell the way you used to, too.”

The space between his brows wrinkles and his nose twitches in irritation at your words. “The fuck do you mean? No, I don’t.”

“Let me spell it out for you in a way we both understand.” For the first time since your strange reunion, you reciprocate the physicality and pull him in by the shoulder till you’re forehead to forehead so you can look him in the eyes while explaining. “When I saw you a few days ago for the first time in so long, it was like you basically still had a sign that says ‘broke ass bum.’”

He gapes at you with incredulity, this offended expression on his face.

“I mean,” you say, snickering in bewilderment at the absurdity of his previous actions, “you were gonna sue me over some ice cubes, really? Acting like a spoiled little prince to disguise where you crawled out from? I think you and I have got the kinda stench not even all the Dior in Avenue Montaigne can wipe off.”

His fingers would’ve dug hard into your flesh if your shirt wasn’t in the way with how his grip tightens in response. The grit of his teeth exposes more of them. Strangely, you think he has nice gums. “Why the fuck are you being like this?”

“‘Cause you were content to forget all about me, but you don’t want me to be angry at you either. You should’ve just been polite and pretended you didn’t recognize me. But no, you want it all. I hate people like you who make no sense.”

“You’re just jealous,” Kaiser accuses, trying the snobby angle. If he’s pretentious then he’s not hurt by you claiming you despise him. At least that’s what he settles on.

“Sure. That could be true as well.” You stand up and take the can with you to throw away.

Kaiser plops down on the sand, tired of squatting, and doesn’t bother watching you plod back to the bar but the sound of your footsteps rings heavy in his ears until it dissipates. He hugs his knees like the wet wipe he is at heart.

The kindest person he’d known was a scammer and a liar and a thief and who knows what else. It hurts like nothing else to bear the weight of your desertion.

This must be cellular rejection. You should’ve been ecstatic to see him on account of your shared inhumanity. Does it not matter to you anymore, the fact that you and Kaiser are the same?

… Right; you’re not the ball. When he hits you, you can hit him back.

___

The beach is desolate and eerie at night. Kaiser came out to brood, which was fine because Sae didn’t care to ask him where he was going when he left the room. Unlike during the day, the sand is cool under his feet now — what an obtuse observation to make, all things considered. He’s annoyed and frustrated at himself as usual when things don’t go his way.

There’s a light illuminating someone’s face where they recline on one of the lounge chairs. It’s blue, meaning the source is a phone. Kaiser startles because he assumed he was alone.

And you startle when you see him staring at you in the dark, but instead of screaming all you do is let out an unconvincing gasp and turn on the backlight to reveal him. Kaiser covers his eyes with his forearms and turns away, letting out some vampiric kind of noise.

Then you frown and go back to tapping away on your shitty mobile game. “You’re such a creep honestly,” you say in distaste.

Once he gets over the assault you just committed on his admittedly sensitive eyes, Kaiser sits down next to you uninvited.

“It’s a coincidence,” he snaps. “I don’t want to be around you either. You’re so fucking exhausting. Can’t talk to you like a normal person at all because of your stupid grudge.”

“Then why are you still trying?”

Of course, there are many answers to that question. Some including but not limited to I think I can still love you like before and I miss you and I regret not sending you that postcard and I hate how you’re mad at me, but I can’t seem to get it right. Though such pathetic things aren’t in Kaiser’s nature to spew, so they never make it past his throat. The words constrict around his neck like a noose.

Instead of answering, he says, “You’ve got a phone now. You should give me your number.”

“No.”

“You’re just trying to make my life difficult for no reason!”

You give him another one of your blank stares. In the dullness of the night, obviously the gesture stays meaningless, though Kaiser can sense the bemusement in your silence at least.

Seeing that ignoring the problem at large isn’t turning out to be the winning move, Kaiser sighs and tries to think of what to say. There’s probably some kind of trick to this, some way he could fool you into overlooking his transgressions. Though when you were friends, he never did that to you, and you never left him then. Maybe it’s not necessary. In this situation, it’s proving to even be detrimental.

Kaiser picks at the skin on his neck. It’s to his benefit you can’t see each other well — he’s not sure he’d be able to spit it out without the detachment of the environment. “Listen, I’m not good at this shit, but… If I have to be honest, I was really paranoid. I didn’t want to think about the past and I didn’t want to get dragged back into it, so I was too scared to even write you a letter to tell you I’m fine. But stumbling on you again, it’s probably fucking stupid but I don’t want to lose track of you anymore. It’s lonely.”

“I wasted a year of my life thinking you were dead,” you say.

“I’m sorry.”

“Tomorrow’s my free day.”

There’s an uncertain excitement in Kaiser now, as if you might be yanking his chain and he doesn’t want to commit to the feeling right away. “Sure, I’m leaving after tomorrow, so that works. Meet me here and we can catch up.”

“I see this shitty beach enough as it is,” you say.

“Yeah, but not the way you’re supposed to.”

You shrug.

Without prompting or any indication that you care, Kaiser says, “I have a horrible sunburn.” He will always find something to bitch about. It’s like he’s never satisfied.

After a few swipes, you unlock your phone and pass it to him so he can add his contact information. “Then use aloe vera or something. What are you, stupid?”

“I don’t have any,” justifies Kaiser, inputting the digits. His tone is defensive because this is the first he’s heard of it, but it’s not like he’ll admit that.

Your forgiveness is fake, in a way. It’d been a grudge you held for a while and a betrayal you wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else. Maybe you’ll hold it over his head if he displeases you. So it’s not real forgiveness, is it, more so a lenience, a testament to your past, that your love for him somehow prevails over your need to enact the lex talionis.

___

The sand sinks under your weight with each step you take, waves lapping over the shoreline, seagulls and children squealing in the background. Sunset makes everything easier on the eyes and the heat is finally settling down since it’s getting late into the afternoon.

You had a nice time catching up with Kaiser in another part of the city, although he displayed a susceptibility to tourist traps. He gloated a lot, and you pretended you didn’t know about half of it from reading his Wikipedia page that one time when you were fostering your hate boner for him. You told him about how you ran away and ended up in another country and about how you’re still on the missing persons site.

Now you’re going back by the seaside instead of through the streets. You walk side by side, your ankles touching the water. Kaiser’s grin is wide, which makes him seem smug, but this time it doesn’t strike you as forced so maybe he is simply carefree. It’s an unusual sight for you — Kaiser, genuinely smiling.

“I think I’ll come see you again when it’s off season. Or maybe we can arrange for you to come visit me instead. I’ve got all sorts of things I want to show you,” he says. He never really had anything to give you before, and now he takes pride in having the means to do so, regardless of whether you’re interested or impressed.

“Whatever, Micha. You’re so full of it. I bet it’ll be lame or you’ll forget you promised.”

He remains pleased despite the teasing, even happier if possible. “It’s fine if you say pointless shit like that, I don’t mind a challenge. All I have to do is prove you wrong.”

___

Lol at the end of finishing this I teared up in Frustration because I couldn't write this the way I envisioned it and then I couldn't save it through editing either (<- guy who's defiinitely normal and casual ) and I kinda just wanted to be done with it so I'm not gonna hold it hostage any longer either. Idk I'm just mad and depressed about it rn i guess. Thank U all for tapping in

How should I feel after telling almost everyone I know that Kaiser is a cat guy when he canonically loves stray Dogs (Its okay cus I’m a dog person too)

And the fact that my theory of him being born in December 25 is actually True

NSFW kaiser hcs plsplspls omggg >.<

MICHAEL KAISER: NSFW Headcanons

a/n: i’ve been wanting to write these so bad but i needed the motivation so thank you anon lemme give you a kiss 💋

sorry this is so short 😓

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | requests are open! | enjoy 🦋

• kaiser is 100% the dominant one in bed, but that doesn’t mean he won’t let you top him. he’s a service top/soft dom (most of the time), so he’ll let you do whatever will get you off as long as he gets to participate.

• he loves being marked up. bite marks, scratch marks, bruises on his shoulders, hickeys all over his neck and collar bone, he could stare at himself in the mirror and drool at the sight of your work on him. especially likes the comments he gets from his teammates in the locker room, usually gives a half assed response or brushes it off. feels there’s no explanation needed, he simply fucked you so good you literally had to hold on for dear life and try to eat him lol.

• if you didn’t read my virgin!kaiser post here it is. if you did then you KNOW how i feel about about this topic. unpopular opinion: he is not a whore. kaiser would absolutely save himself for someone special, so chances are he lost his virginity to you. he’s done lots of foreplay with other people in the past, but he didn’t go all the way until he met you and when it happened he was hooked. kaiser has an insatiable libido but he does know how to control himself. just know that you’ll be getting tons of horny texts, nudes, phone calls just so he can hear your voice while he jerks off, he’s a menace.

• he is EAGER to learn about you and your body and every little thing he can do to make you squirm. would spend hours just touching and playing with you to figure it out. teases and edges you all the time (likes to edge himself a little too). wants you to tell him what you want, loves hearing you verbalize your sexual desires.

• will make you talk about sex in inappropriate situations. he’ll whisper dirty words in your ear and smile at you. dinner with the fam? “You’d look so pretty bent over this table.” tries to coax you into joining the mile high club any time you take a flight. he has absolutely no filter when it comes to talking about sex. will reminisce on last nights ministrations while you’re in the car, out to eat, whispering over to you at the movie theater. he’ll ask if you liked certain things he did, if you want to try something different, tell you yet again how good you were for him.

• he’s not a fan of toys aside from vibrators for you but i can see him being into some light bondage perhaps? he likes when he can fuck you and you can’t touch him or yourself.

• kaiser doesn’t like the idea of others watching you guys fuck but he likes the idea of them knowing he’s fucking you if that makes sense. wants you to be loud when there’s other people in the room next to you. makes sure his thrusts are hard enough to my the door or the bed shake and creek. he only does this if he’s around people you guys know. doesn’t want random people to know y’all are fucking but definitely like if he’s teammates or friends are around, rival teams too perhaps.

• this boy loves intimacy so much, as horny as he is, he likes to make sex with you special when he can. when he comes back from playing in another country, desperately yearning for your touch, he does everything in his power to make it the most romantic and passionate experience for you. he takes his time and keeps his pace at a cool medium, not too fast but he doesn’t drag them out too much. kisses everywhere the entire time, can’t take his lips off your perfect skin that he’s missed so much. can’t stand to see it without a single sign of him, so he’s marking you up along the way. moaning your name right into your ear and mumbling “i love you”’s into the crook of your neck. he’s going for as long as possible by the way, switching positions, eating you out for what feels like forever, he could go all night like this.

• he isn’t the kinkiest guy but he will try whatever you want to try. doesn’t mind if he has to be a little mean to you or even if he has to be a little submissive. really cares about sex being an enjoyable experience so he wants to make sure you’re both getting to explore your fantasies. i could see him being into roleplay a little ngl.

• i’m sorry but this man has a perfect dick. it’s like 5-6 inches, not too big not too small, his girth fills his length perfectly, he has a very slight upwards curve that prods into your sweet spots perfectly every time. he keeps himself excessively well groomed. when he gets undressed in front of you all you can do is stare in awe at how pretty he is. his shaft is the same pale tone as the rest of his skin, his veins aren’t very prominent and his tip is pink and cute???? Idk call me weird IDC he’s a pretty boy.

— the sun has set ; michael kaiser.

starring :: michael kaiser x reader

wc :: 800

tags :: hurt/comfort, reverse comfort, nightmares, implied self harm and abuse, kaisers backstory (brief)

synopsis :: michael kaiser often times has nightmares about his past, and you’re the only one who seems to not mind his outbursts.

when michael kaiser has days where the weight of his life seems to overcome his resolve, there will be no doubt that on that night, scenes of his past come and haunt him. agonizing nightmares keeping him pinned onto nothing but illusion as he chokes on awaiting tears in his sleep. it’s unbearable, really: constant tossing and turning without his consciousness, harsh clutching of his blanket, and the straining furrow of his eyebrows—and it hasn’t changed ever since.

well, perhaps it’s been bearable from the moment you’ve been by his side when he sleeps.

“mihya,” you call softly, “come on, wake up.” 

drenched in sweat, kaiser gasps as his eyes open to darkness. he reaches out for what’s closest to him, and to his advantage, it’s you. “you’re with me.” you mumble, fingers combing through his hair—not stopping until you feel his body’s tension loosen up, even for a little bit. “i’m with you.” from his head that’s buried on your abdomen, he looks up; breath still undeniably trembling with frustration and anxiety.

“you- what time is it?” it’s too quiet around you both, the busy streets outside sounding empty–only the sound of light rain echoing is out. “it doesn’t matter, rest up again. i’m right here.” when kaiser realizes he’s overslept from the initial nap he took many, many hours ago, he feels around for his phone.

12:39am. 

“liebling, sorry- you should be the one asleep. i’ve had plenty already.” suddenly, kaiser rushes off the bed, slightly stumbling as he does so. the abrupt loss of his presence creates a frown on your face. knowing his usual ways when facing a nightmare of such level, kaiser isolates himself. 

“mihya,” you call out, voice still kind as ever, yet he doesn’t look back.

“mihya,” you call once more, and you’re standing up from the bed, going after him.

“michael!” now, he looks at you: eyes in disbelief when you tug on his arm with force. “let me go. i’m going for a walk.” he pulls back, but you don’t let him. “not tonight, stay inside.” although you knew what to be expecting, the sheer anger and pain in his voice has you wincing. “it’s too fucking suffocating here right now- damn it, don’t touch me!” as kaiser hears his own words when you reluctantly let go of his arm, his body slumps down to the floor.

his back is against the doorframe, legs tucked onto his chest like a pitiful child as his head is hung low. looking down at him, your breath shudders for a moment. you assume–rather you’re fairly certain that kaiser’s nightmare still lingers in his eyes. him mistaking you for someone that would hurt him is most likely. 

so you take his pace, sitting down in front of him on the cold ground even if he doesn’t dare look at you. “out of all people, why you?” kaiser tiredly whispers, arms muffling his voice. “me?” you whisper back, copying the way he’s sitting, although it only differs as your eyes are locked on him. “why did i think you were him? you’re not him.” kaiser’s voice is small, hands tentatively tapping on his skin as he trembles. “mn. i’m not. it was just a nightmare, mihya.” once more, his breath is uneven, and it’s bothering you more.

“it’s not about that! why am i always thinking about that bastard, even though there’s no reason? even in my fucking sleep, i see him! what the fuck is up with that?” you only hum, feeling sorrow come undone from kaiser’s body. “am i not free? despite everything i’ve done to leave that shitty place?” when you see kaiser’s hand itch to grasp at his neck, you quickly intervene. concern washes over you when you notice just how glossy kaiser’s cheeks are, its faint shine is reflecting under the dim light. 

“mihya, you’re with me. are you not? that should answer everything.”

you gently lean your body towards his, and kaiser’s head rests itself on the warmth of your neck. “but-” his frustrated sobs are getting covered up by you. “no. nothing more, nothing less, mihya. i’m with you, and you’re with me.” his arms heavily grip on your shirt, fingers trembling as he tightly embraces you. “it was only a bad day,” you whisper in his hair, lovingly hushing him to only listen to your lone voice. “mihya, it’s okay.” kaiser’s body is still shivering under your hold, tears dampening your collarbone as it seems to not give in anytime soon. but that’s fine.

“we can stay here like this, or maybe go back to sleep if you’d like that instead.” the palms of your hand gently pry his face from your shoulder, and it continues to caress it as kaiser sniffles. “what do you think?” the burden in kaiser’s mind dissipates to your palm, its weight getting heavier as he pushes his head onto it. 

“stay,” and you will. with a tender thumb that wipes away his tears, it consoles him, making kaiser feel the most humane as he’s ever felt.

“okay.” you smile at him, before pulling him back into an embrace that kaiser will never take for granted.   

© zenokei | do not repost, copy, or use my works.

my angel…and my girl…

i am physically sick for this man…welcome to my first post i’m lottie and my whole acc will basically be a song fic of gee by snsd

kaiser marriage headcannons - fem pronouns reader, aged up characters,

• he’s a total perfectionist so of course that reflects in his proposal

• he was 23 and proposed right after a career changing game

• the ring bro…it would put a real empress’ engagement ring to shame, but what can i say? you’re his empress after all, it was worth a couple hundred thousand dollars made with diamonds and platinum

• as for the wedding it was a total dream, he let you plan it since he couldn’t be bothered to with his work and practices

• you guys went to singapore for your honeymoon, michael would be constantly flustered because he was being recognised left and right with you

• now for the good stuff 🤭

• your married life was rather peaceful compared to the constant insult-compliment whiplash from your dating phase

• michael was still kind of cold and standoffish but for his mrs. kaiser, he’d pipe down on his attitude

• he’s the type to insist on being the man, yes to boss you around but also to spoil you rotten

• a year and a half into your marriage you welcomed a baby girl named clair

• he’s such a girl dad~ always playing with and spoiling his baby girl

• since you were dating he made a tradition of returning from away games with a mountain of gifts for you, now theres another mountain for his little girl

• he’s still mean as a snake to everyone else but he can melt with one look at you two

• back hugs all day everyday

• impulse vacations to the most interesting locations, the chinese countryside, budapest, wales, mexico, russia, morocco, etc

• he lets clair play with his hair

• michael hates getting up in the middle of the night to comfort your daughter so up until she was 5 she often walked into your shared bedroom in the middle of the night to sleep between you guys

• snorer

• he’ll listen in on your phone conversations with your friends, if he hears you want something…he’ll get it

hey boy, listen…

“my first love story…my angel…and my girls…my sunshine. hey, hey, lets go!”

fem reader. matching halloween costumes with bllk characters. bllk x reader. fluff. characters (separate): michael kaiser, oliver aiku, bachira meguru, hiori yo, chigiri hyoma, kunigami rensuke, itoshi sae+rin, isagi yoichi, shidou ryuusei, nagi seishiro, mikage reo

#

michael kaiser - joker x harley quinn

• this man is certified bonkers so of course he’s the joker and as his loyal worshipper you’re harley quinn

• perhaps a prophecy of the status of your relationship perhaps you just look stylish (ITS THE SECOND ONE PLEASE PICK THE SECOND ONE)

• such a softie for you but would never admit it, you chose the costume and he made sure to get the finest ones money could buy though the pictures you took…he’d rather not see himself dressed as a clown criminal mastermind.

#

oliver aiku - nick & judy (zootopia)

• this was his idea, y’know damn well this man is a party animal so you just have to trust he’s not cheating

• so he decides to make you feel better, he’ll bring you along and do matching costumes. • i just know this man likes putting on animal ears and kids movies thats why y’all are nick and judy

#

bachira meguru - thing 1 & 2

• remember how he got called a weirdo as a kid? he’s definitely a weirdo. eats toothpaste, drinks milk from the carton, milk before cereal. a total goof ball

• he loves children’s books and even as at his big age of 17 he still makes you read them to him and pretends he’s a kid going to bed (IN A WHOLESOME WAY)

• so when the halloween party came up he wanted to go as his favourite book characters, thing 1 & 2. and of course you agreed

#

hiori yo - kuromi and my melody

• of course he’s my melody and you’re kuromi. this was his idea so he gets first dibs

• being the gamer he is he enjoys playing with you, you two are always the cringe couple in the lobby with matching usernames and avatars and he does all the carrying but he also enjoys playing those silly little retro girls games like ‘hamham heartbreak’ and the old cardcaptor sakura games.

• in conclusion he’s a total nerd thats a total sucker for the female gaze

#

chigiri hyoma - team rocket

• this man is a total princess and every year you guys dress as a cartoon couple only to do the same costume the next year but switch the roles so one year he might be james and the next jesse

• this year he’s james, he even did a temporary dye on his hair for accuracy but of course no cutting.

• he loves doing hair with you and for this year’s costume you were the one washing and dyeing his hair

#

kunigami rensuke - raven and beast boy

• you like cartoons, he likes superheroes, you both need a cute matching costume, easy compromise. you both came up with this together while brainstorming

• this man is a lovesick loser so beast boy was very easy to pull off and the most perfect costume for the two of you. the only real inaccuracy is that he’s pretty big

• homemade costumes for the win, of course you’ll buy bits and pieces but overall a homely look because rensuke will do anything to bond with you

#

itoshi sae - light and misa

• sae canonically likes chibi maruko san, who’s to say he isn’t a big weeb? in fact this was his idea. he’s really convincing when it comes to halloween

• he’s a lot like light, cold, calculating, smart so it suited him and besides since light dresses similarly it only fit and since you’re so hopelessly in love with him, it was destiny

• sae isn’t the type to work with his hands but he also didn’t like the quality of pre made costumes. living in europe gave him refined taste so you two went on a designer shopping spree for individual pieces to make your costumes.

#

itoshi rin - coraline’s parents

• you’re probably a total wuss, even if you’re not, rin still can consume more horror, gore, and other gross things than anyone. accumulating in him wanting to do a matching costume with you only if it was some horror character.

• you agreed and settled on coraline since it’d be fun and easy, to match you dressed as coraline’s parents, specifically the other parents with the button eyes

• your favourite part was doing his hair and makeup, rin is like a cat taking a bath you really had to pin him to his office chair or on the bed to do his makeup properly, and yeah theres plenty of kisses

#

isagi yoichi - alice and the cheshire cat

• he’s so bland, (im kidding pls dont come for me) but he loves you so, so he’ll sacrifice the main character spot for you just this once. you’re alice and he’s the cat, of course this was completely your idea

• yoichi doesn’t care too much for this kind of thing, he originally intended to spend halloween cuddling and watching movies with you, perhaps invite some friends over or have some fun without them if you know what i mean….

• but he enjoyed being your cute kitty for a night, you dragged him out and about to take pictures and being blue lock’s hero there was no short of attention

#

shidou ryusei - cleo denile and deuce

• ryusei is very eccentric, kind of weird, in a hot way not in a cute way like meguru. and as you made him watch boo york with you he took one look at cleo and was like “yeah” so in away it was your idea but not really

• you’re his princess and he’s the douche looking boyfriend, i’m not sure about you but it most definitely suits him.

• as you guys went out and about this halloween you know he’s already thinking about next year, perhaps raven queen and derick charming. maybe barbie and ken?

#

nagi seishiro - veggie tales

• let me tell you i’ve actually done this costume irl, seishiro is a lazy fellow he doesn’t like putting in much effort but he’s a cutie patootie and he does adore his pookie

• matching costumes was your idea, to dress as the cucumbers from veggie tales however was his idea as all he had to do was buy the costumes and look cute

• fan reactions and his friends; they found it so stupid it was hilarious, compared to all the other celebrity couples costumes you two chose….children’s cartoons.

#

mikage reo - the adam’s parents

• he’s rich so it’s gotta be classy, you two were going to some gala held by his family company, the mikage corporation, cute and classy lets go

• reo really isn’t one for movies so this was your idea, he’s a total simp for you, absolutely floored all the time with no exception. kissing you up and grovelling at your feet like his morticia adams

• in the end your costume really did suit the occasion made for the best pictures. you guys are now pinterest king and queen every halloween

___

School’s been kicking my ass so i had to do this quickly, anyway what are you guys dressing up as this year?

if i did a bllk boys x reader (gn) headcannons of your relationship with them followed by a playlist of songs that remind of them would you guys be interested?

"Oh! oh! oh! oh!, 오빠를 사랑해"

blue lock boys as boyfriends + playlist (can y'all tell i listen to too much kpop), fem reader, i'm feeling sad and depressed rn let me be a little angsty but i can't stand sad endings

michael kaiser: melancholy at it's finest but not in a sad way, but definitely in a more nostalgic way. he's a red flag at best and a long gone man at worst. but as a boyfriend he does his best to make you feel good about yourself, mostly via spoiling you rotten. diamonds, clothes, the best food, anything. maybe he doesn't actually like you maybe he just likes the idea of you. but he will eventually come to love you and when he does it's like a dream, he has a resting bitch face and cocky attitude but when he does open up to you it's completely serious.

playlist- chill kill (red velvet), no blueberries (dpr ian ft dpr live + cl), baby (dj roots ft camo + 정진형), love story (indilla), flower (jisoo), siren (taeyeon), anoko complex (=LOVE), monochrome kiss (SID), diary of jane (breaking benjamin)

oliver aiku: yeah girl you're not dating him...he's definitely an ex as i write this. this man is, despite how nice he is, a player at heart and girl you can't change that. but he does keep you in mind. perhaps you're his favourite special lady. he kind of pops in and out of your life, big dick though so it's okay. he knows how to treat a lady though so it's not bad but you have to be careful or you'll catch too many feelings. maybe some time passes and you're eventually end game.

playlist- rsvp (koala ft. jessi), GAL (ohayo), mommae (jay park ft ugly duck), party (chris brown ft tyga), boom (dpr live ft dpr ian), thnks fr th mmrs (fall out boy), gamez (bei maejor ft keri hilson)

don lorenzo: girl why? girl, bye. the least you could do is make sure he had real teeth...but oh well we all slip up sometimes. he's addicted to you completely, day and night he thinks about you. y'all know homeboy loves money you likely met him at a club or party. somewhere in that territory and don has no problem with spending loads of cash on you. probably wooed you over with a condo in florence since y'know his little honey in his hometown. but his biggest flaw is definitely his obsession over money

playlist- ayo (chris brown), royals (lorde), ps5 (salem ilese ft txt), i got a boy (girl's generation), swalla (jason derulo), hula hoops (dpr live ft beenzino + hwasa), empire (wengie ft minnie), red lipstick (lee hi ft yoon mirae), best friend (saweetie ft doja cat), nobody's better (Z ft fetty wap)

PLEASE MOODBOARD FOR MICHAEL KAISER IM ON MY KNESS FOR IT

Dating Michael Kaiser <3

=͟͟͞͞ ⌧ : I’ve been patiently waiting for this request 🥹

Hello! Are you perhaps taking requests? If you don't, please ignore this. If you do, can you please make a kaiser x chubby reader? I noticed that there's no many fanfictions with him. I just finished all of them 😭

A DEITY'S CHOSEN ONE

MICHAEL KAISER X CHUBBY READER

content warnings ─── god complex, markings

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ in which michael kaiser chose you.

many things michael kaiser is—but never the soft one. he commands everyone in his presence. makes the strongest crumble at their feet. people follow him, worship him even. that what makes michael kaiser is.

despite that, he never shielded himself let alone brace for falling for a woman like you and he convinces himself he is not. you were drawn to him like anybody else and it's his job to take care of you.

you were his chosen one.

he choose you as his. to serve at his feet. worship him and sing with his name with all your devotion. he's playing god and he's closer to being one. he deserves it and what makes it even sweeter, it was you who was doing it—and just like any other devotee he decided to reward you for being his.

“michael...” his name coming out from your lips like a nightingale. he stares at his reflection in the mirror, eyes darting to yours where his lovely woman is close to being bare. the strap of your top falling down in your shoulder. showing the soft expanse of your skin. chest and neck bare for his eyes to feast while his hand in your jaw to meet his gaze.

you were not his type. nonexistent collarbones and all, there should be bones or any signs of being an equal to him to exist. a perfection to be decided by him and you're nothing at all from the previous women he dated. with their perfect sculpted face structures, thigh gaps and flat stomach. skin that had never known the existence of stretch marks and scars. hadn't touch by flaws and while he gazes at your eyes with the color of the earth, it pulls him close. trying to understand what it's like to be flawed and michael kaiser is everything but not flawed.

presented to him with a round stomach that hands, riddled with stretch marks, thighs that touch and jiggle everytime you walk and a round face he's squishing right now. you were imperfect and michael hadn't seen anything like you but you were a good one. so decided what a god would to his favored one.

his lips trails to your cherubic cheeks then to your soft jaw and to your neck. soft lips into soft flesh and you were divine to begin with. the bountiful flesh that you hold, blessed with abundance for him to hold and to ravish to his heart's desire.

sucking the skin with fervor that it leaves you gasping and calling for his name. not daring to touch him, nor pull at his blonde hair with streaks of blue, the color of sky at the ends of it. holding out to his arm while he marks you as his.

“that's a good girl.” he whispers, praising you for being prepared at what he gives and you take it all. it boosts his ego so much that he'll fuck you without a second thought. pressed your face in the mirror, fingers tangled to your hair while he ruts deep inside you. filling you up with his seed that it'll bless you with life inside you.

you could feel him smile at your skin. heat pooling at the pit of your stomach while your arousal soaked through your panties. you know he could feel it. your body trembles at the things he can do to you.

so needy. he can get to it later. succumbing to your earthly desires but there's one thing he should do mark you as his for everyone to see that you truly belonged to him.

teeth sinks to the flesh of your neck where your pulse beats and a breathless whine following from you. a harsh suck and a bite. a bruise blooming in where he marked you. that's a sight to behold.

his rose-tattooed arm moves to squeeze the supple flesh in your chest and then to your stomach until it reaches to your aching heat. cupping it with his large hand and there's a low growl in his throat followed by a chuckle at your reaction. breath turning shallow at his hand holding your heat. it was clear as the day. the rose in the back of his palm in your center and you know what's going to happen next and you spread your thighs wider to accommodate him.

what a good thing you are. he praises you in his mind. fit to serve him for the rest of his days.

you really are his chosen one.