a grown man had to force himself to watch the overly saturated slime unboxing videos.
kaiser crossed his arms. being engrossed as he watches the big tv along with a 6 year old beside him. kaiser holds back a very frustrated sigh at the crumbling sound of plastic, the funky music, the sound beside him of the kid eating cheetos.
today was meant for him and you. you and him. but your mother's friend's kid, kenzo, had no one to babysit.
the moment kaiser stepped in, he was greeted with "who are you" and "what do you want" by the little boy. but what made a vein pop on his forehead was when the kid claimed to be your boyfriend.
a 6 year old kid: your boyfriend? you chuckled and told kaiser that the child likely doesn't know what that word means. boy friend and boyfriend. a 6 year old wouldn't know the difference. right?
wrong. the kid made sure to give kaiser a look which told enough that the chibi had marriage plans.
most kids would curiously ask about his tattoo. or ask him to teach them soccer. kaiser wonders what's wrong with this one as he finally lets out that frustrated sigh.
you walked to your room to grab the sweets-jar when kenzo whined for toffees. and just when you were about to head back to the living room, your lovely boyfriend had already stepped in, and locked the door behind.
he scoffed amusingly. further teasing you for still eating toffees at this grown age, and hiding the sweets in the most noticeable place in your bedroom.
"behave," you warned.
"are you my boss or something?"
"you're in my room."
"so?"
you ignored, telling kaiser to behave appropriately again. but does he listen? you're nowhere to boss him. he believes that.
he grabs you, making you lay on the bed. with him on top of you, so soon so quick. and he placed multiple kisses on your neck exactly where he know would tickle.
"who's the fucking boss? huh?" kiss "who's in charge?" kiss "who's in control?" kiss "who's bigger?" kiss "who's stronger?" kiss.
you weren't going to let him win. you yelled out that you were stronger while still laughing.
"hah?" kiss "say that again?" kiss.
"i said—" you start trying to hold back laughs, "i said—"
kiss "hm?" kiss.
"kenzo's out waiting for us!"
after five seconds of looking at you in disbelief, kaiser rolls his eyes, getting off of you. stupid kid. he mumbles.
"tsk tsk. someone's acting childish." you tease.
"yeah im jealous damn it."
"of a kid? mihya, he's six-"
"and so? today was for us. just us. and this kid—"
and as an apology, you kissed his cheek before exiting the room, kaiser following shortly after.
it was the smell of cookies. you had almost forgotten to take them out of the oven. while you rush to the kitchen, kenzo suddenly turns to kaiser, "how are babies made?"
kaiser guesses the kid came across something on the tv, so he replies by saying when mom and dad love each other, a baby forms into the momma's stomach.
"really? does that really really happen?"
"yeah. it absolutely does."
"so that means, you will never experience giving baby in a women's stomach?"
and kaiser knew damn well the kid is referring that kaiser will never find a women to love. a vien pop on kaiser's forehead at that. and the kid interrupts the silence asking: "so, so, my parents loved each other too. right? right!?"
however kaiser decided to adapt the asian parents' approach and replied saying, "you were found in the garbage."
[ Michael Kaiser left a message on your voicemail. ]
"Hey, babe... I missed you so much today. How are you?
I'm... well, you know, at work. I'm afraid I don't have much time. I wish I could be there with you. It's so boring when you're not around. Time drags on, and nobody here is entertaining—not like I am when I'm with you.
I keep wondering what you're doing right now. Are you sleeping? Ah... you're so beautiful when you are. You're the most precious person I know on this earth.
I want to hold you... I miss your hands, your touch, your voice. Everything feels so... meaningless when you're not here.
You know, a woman confessed to me today.
She even wanted to give me flowers. Blue flowers—my favorite. But I told her I wasn't interested. Not at all. Because I already belong to someone. I belong to you. Oh, babe, if only you could've seen her face—so disappointed, so angry... But I don't care. I’m taken. I already have someone. I have you.
Did you get those photos I sent? You know, the selfies... Yeah, I know they're a bit... explicit, but I couldn't help myself. I was thinking about you, and... well, I ended up enjoying a little time alone, if you get what I mean. What else can I do? I need to feel your touch every day.
They want me back on the pitch, but honestly, I don't care. I just want to stay here, talking to you. I know I've left you so many messages lately—I'm not even sure if you're listening to them all—but... I miss you. I miss you so much, my love. My sweetheart. My everything.
Ah... the coach is here.
… I'll be thinking of you while I'm playing. I want you to watch me. You know, I want to be the best-looking guy on the field, just for you. I love feeling your gaze on me—when I play, when I'm about to score. It's like the ultimate reward, like everything I've done has finally paid off. I want you to be proud of me, to welcome me home when it's all over. I... I crave your praise, baby. I miss hearing your compliments so much. Being the center of attention—especially yours—means everything to me.
I'll be home soon, I promise. Very soon.
Wait for me."
Sooo my crush gifted this?!!!?!?!!! She knows me so well 😫😫😫 (yes shes a girl, im also a girl) i just had to share this cuz she was telling me how the og art had his chest out too big so she adjusted it newayzzz
୨୧ synopsis: his favourite camgirl is his new neighbour
ଘ wc: 1.9k
Kaiser has just returned from his practice. He walks through the building lobby to get to the lift and presses the button, the door immediately opening with a ding. He gets inside and presses the button to his floor and the door starts closing. He’s startled as someone barely manages to squeeze through just in time.
“Oh, hi,” you greet him, panting. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wait.”
Kaiser remains silent as he watches you press the button on the floor beneath his and leave the grocery bags on a corner. You’re awfully familiar to him. Your hair, your face, your body. There’s no mistaking it. You’re his favourite camgirl, whom he has spent quite the exorbitant amount of money on. And it’s obvious, seeing as you can now afford to rent a penthouse at a luxurious apartment building like this. He assumes that your move here is the reason you haven’t done a livestream lately.
He decides not to mention that he’s a fan of yours, not wanting to put you in an awkward position and instead strikes up a conversation, welcoming his new neighbour. You’re so happy to have made a friend, since you’ve barely talked to the other tenants, being too busy with decorating your house and assembling your bedroom for the streams. You wanted to get back to streaming as soon as possible.
Bidding him goodbye when you reach your floor, you pick up your grocery bags and exit the lift, entering your apartment. What you don’t see is Kaiser’s lustful eyes following you until the door of the lift closes and it starts ascending again. Now that you live in the same building as him, it’ll be easier for him to see you more often — and off camera. And maybe he’ll get the chance to make his fantasy of fucking you a reality.
Late that night, you stream for the first time in a while. Your chat is flooded by your fans welcoming you back and telling you how much they’ve missed you. You spend an hour or so simply talking to them, catching up and all. The real fun begins when you reveal your little surprise for the night. You will be using a vibrator and based on the amount of tips you get, its volume will gradually increase. If you manage to not cum for twenty minutes, then you win. But if you fail, then your fans can punish you however they like in your next livestream.
Lifting up your oversized t-shirt, you sit comfortably on your bed with your legs spread to the camera, your pussy on full display. Soft moans leave your lips as you hold the vibrator to your folds, your tips increasing with each passing second. Within the first ten minutes, you’ve hit the max speed of your vibrator. Your squirm and whimper, doing your best to hold out for the remaining time.
Kaiser watches the scene unfold from behind his screen, as he strokes his hardened cock. “Fuck,” he groans, his head falling back on his seat. He keeps sending you the biggest tips of all, wishing you’ll lose. Because he has just the right punishment in mind. And when his wish is answered and you spectacularly lose, cumming hard on camera, he cannot contain his smirk from growing wider. A moment later, he comes too, watching you slowly come down from your high.
“I really thought I’d win,” you pout. “But a bet is a bet. So, what do you want me to do?”
There are many ideas in the chat, quite banal to Kaiser’s eyes. Cleaning his hand with a few tissues, he then types: How about you take an aphrodisiac on camera? One by one, all the other fans agree to his suggestion.
And so it’s decided. The next night, during your livestream, you take an aphrodisiac. While everything seems fine at the beginning, you’re soon enough writhing in ecstasy, touching your sensitive body and using all kinds of toys at your disposal to relieve this feeling. The livestream is your best thus far, with the highest rate of earnings. Yet even after two hours of masturbating on camera, you’re still consumed by the effects of the aphrodisiac.
When your doorbell rings at 3 am, you’re so confused. You throw a silk robe over your body and drag yourself to the door. Your eyes widen when you see Kaiser standing at your doorstep, shirtless with only a pair of grey sweatpants on. His lascivious eyes devour you whole, his smirk betrays how pleased he is to see you like this.
“I hope you enjoyed my gift,” he says, stepping inside and closing the door.
You don’t quite understand the meaning of his words, your mind a dazed mess from the aphrodisiac. But when he kisses you, you don’t pull away. Instead you pull him closer, consumed by your desire to relieve this intense fire that’s taken over you. Kaiser smirks at your kiss, picking you up in his arms and carrying you to your bedroom. He lies you down and feasts on your voluptuous body, as the robe has come undone.
He kisses your lips again, while his hands explore your body. He fondles your breasts and pinches your hardened nipples, making you squirm underneath him. You break the kiss, your head falling back on the mattress, as Kaiser trails his kisses down your neck and collarbone, reaching your tits. He sucks and nibbles, playing with your nipples and eliciting whiny moans from your lips that make him harder than he already is. Your grinding your soaked pussy over his clothed cock doesn’t help at all.
“K-Kaiser, please…” you beg, looking at him with pleading eyes. He’s too weak to do anything as you pull his sweatpants and underwear down his ankles. Your eyes widen at the size of his cock and he swears he sees hearts in your irises. “I want your cock,” you plead, aligning him with your hole.
He instinctively thrusts inside you, both of you moaning at the sensation. You’re clamping ever so delightfully around him, just as he had imagined so many fucking times. Kaiser doesn’t bother going slow. He knows that’s not what you want right now. And if he’s honest, it’s not what he wants either. Stepping out of his clothes, he starts pounding into you hard. Your back arches off the bed and he grips your waist, slamming your hips on his, hitting your g spot and having you cum in mere seconds.
“Look at you,” Kaiser coos, looking down at you. “So sensitive, so desperate,” he says in a degrading tone. But fuck him if your pulsing cunt isn’t driving him insane. He keeps fucking you, burying his face in your tits, while his hand slides down your body leaving a trail of fire at its way and starts rubbing your sensitive clit, making you writhe in pleasure. He stretches your tight pussy so insanely well, your eyes roll to the back of your skull. He thrusts inside you one more time, before burying himself to your velvet depths and unload his seed.
He straightens his posture, running a hand through his hair, slightly panting. Kaiser is surprised when you pull him down, crushing your lips on his and flipping you over. Your legs straddle his toned thighs and you moan in your kiss, feeling his cock growing harder inside you. He grabs your hair and pulls you back, before burying his face in your neck to leave his marks. You start bouncing on his cock, moaning his name, as he stretches you even further than before.
When he finishes his masterpiece, you straighten your back, riding him and showing off his mark on your neck. Your hair whip in the air, your tits bouncing with your every movement. Sweat glistens down your body, yet in his eyes you look like a goddess. His tattooed hand finds your neck, choking you slightly. Instinctively, your pussy clenches around him. Yet your tired body can’t keep this up for long.
Kaiser realises that and starts thrusting up in your dripping cunt, the squelching sounds lingering on his ears. You moan his name, holding his hand that’s choking you with both yours. Tears spring down your cheeks as you come again. He fucks you through your high, pushing himself off the bed and wrapping his strong arms around your body, feeling it tremble. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he whispers, his lips brushing yours, before he devours them once more.
A low moan escapes your lips when he pulls out, chuckling at your whiny complaint. “Next time you want to fuck me, I’ll charge you more.”
Kaiser bursts out laughing. “Oh? Am I caught?” he innocently asks with a huge grin on his face.
The aphrodisiac has gradually lost its effect for a while now. It was already weak when Kaiser appeared at your door. Even so, you could barely refuse him. You’ve wanted to fuck him from the moment you met in the lift the previous day.
You wrap your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. “Handsome bastard,” you murmur.
You squeal as Kaiser spanks your arse. Yet with each spank, your cunt drips from the stinging sensation. He pushes you on your stomach down on the bed and hovers over you, spreading your legs with his. When you turn to look at him over your shoulder, your lips part to moan, as he slowly pushes inside you again.
“You know, I haven’t come yet.” He bottoms out and you whimper, as he nearly crushes you with his weight. His tattooed hand snakes around your neck, turning your face to look at him. “Be a good girl and let me cum one more time,” he orders and you’re throbbing.
Kaiser doesn’t wait for you to answer and starts thrusting hard, shaking the entire bed. You grip the bedsheets tightly, burying your face in the pillow in front of you. He smirks, but doesn’t allow you to muffle your screams. He wants the entire building to hear how good his cock feels fucking you. Wrapping your hair nicely around his palm, he forces your head out of the pillow.
“Let me hear you, sweetheart,” he pants, smacking your already reddened arse. “Let me hear you scream my name.”
“F-Fuck, Kaiser,” you whimper. “S-Slow down. I’m really sensitive.”
“That’s a good girl,” he exclaims pleased, before picking up his pace.
His aggressiveness leaves you nothing but a mumbling mess of incoherent words and moans. You’re too dumbfucked to resist anything he gives you. Kaiser can’t help but chuckle when you come before him for another time. Your arousal mixes with his and forms a white ring around his cock. He groans, as he spills his hot cum inside you. When he pulls his cock out, he watches as your juices drip down your hole.
You can barely keep your eyes open, blinking in vain to stay awake. Kaiser sits besides you on the bed, soothingly running his hand up and down your tensed back. You want to punch him for making you so sore, but you’re too tired to move. He leans down and kisses your lips, smirking as you moan a bit.
“Next time, you need to last more,” Kaiser whispers in your ear.
hey, for the more than a married couple event, can i request isagi with 🍊🍫?
of course!
an isagi yoichi chocolate covered orange
જ⁀♡⊹｡° all this money can't buy me a time machine
♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event !
♡ content — isagi yoichi x gn! reader, ex bf! isagi, gn! reader, pining (isagi) , established relationship, trying to make it work (spoiler: it wont)
♡ synopsis — maybe in another life, you and isagi yoichi would've worked out. he just wonders why it couldn't be this one. and sometimes, you do too.
When you walked into the small apartment assigned to you for the marriage simulation, the last person you expected to see standing there was him.
Isagi Yoichi.
Your breath hitched as his dark blue eyes met yours, widening in recognition. He hadn’t changed much in the past six months—not that you’d expected him to. The same messy hair, the same soft smile, and the same hopeful look that had once made you fall for him.
“Hey,” he said awkwardly, shifting his weight.
You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Hey.”
The room felt smaller now, suffocating under the weight of everything left unsaid.
It had been six months since you broke up.
The decision hadn’t been easy—not for you, and not for him. But Isagi’s relentless pursuit of his soccer dreams left little room for anything else, including you.
No matter how much he apologized or promised to do better, you always found yourself waiting: waiting for him to come home, waiting for him to text, waiting for him to notice the cracks forming in your relationship.
Until, one day, you couldn’t wait anymore.
The breakup wasn’t explosive or dramatic. It was quiet, like the last flicker of a candle before the flame died out.
He had cried, begging you to stay. You almost did.
But “almost” wasn’t enough.
Now, standing in the apartment with him again, the memories came rushing back.
“This is unexpected,” you said, breaking the silence.
He let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Small world, huh?”
You couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.
“Let’s just get through this, okay?” you said, your tone sharper than you intended. “It’s only a few weeks.”
He nodded quickly, his expression faltering. “Yeah. Of course.”
The first few days were awkward.
You kept your distance, avoiding unnecessary conversations or eye contact. Isagi seemed to sense your discomfort and gave you space, though you caught him watching you sometimes, his expression unreadable.
The program forced you to interact—cooking meals together, completing tasks designed to “strengthen the bond” between you. It was unbearable at first, the weight of your shared history making every moment feel like a test.
But Isagi was still Isagi.
Still kind, still thoughtful, still determined to make things work, even if this wasn’t real.
And despite your best efforts, the walls you’d built around yourself began to crack.
One night, after a long day of assignments, you found yourselves sitting together on the couch, exhausted.
Isagi leaned back, his head resting against the cushion, eyes half-closed. “Remember when we used to do this?” he murmured, his voice soft.
You stiffened, unsure how to respond.
“After games,” he continued, not waiting for an answer. “I’d come back so tired I could barely move, and you’d just…sit with me. It always made me feel better.”
“Yoichi,” you said quietly, not trusting yourself to say more.
He turned to look at you, his blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t name—regret, maybe, or longing.
“I missed this,” he admitted. “I missed you.”
Your breath caught in your throat. “Don’t,” you said, shaking your head. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” he asked, sitting up. “It’s the truth.”
“Because it doesn’t change anything,” you said, your voice trembling. “We tried, Yoichi. We tried so hard, and it still wasn’t enough.”
He looked at you, his expression pained. “I could try harder.”
“You always say that,” you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes.
The silence that followed was deafening.
The first kiss happened a week later.
It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t even intentional.
You’d been arguing about something trivial—who should clean the dishes, maybe, or what to cook for dinner. The tension boiled over, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours, soft and familiar and wrong.
You pulled away almost immediately, your heart racing.
“That was a mistake,” you said breathlessly.
He nodded, looking just as shaken. “Yeah. A mistake.”
But it happened again.
And again.
Every time, you told yourselves it didn’t mean anything. It was just a slip, a moment of weakness.
But deep down, you knew better.
The final week of the program arrived far too quickly, bringing with it the inevitability of goodbye.
You tried to steel yourself, to remind yourself that this wasn’t real—that it couldn’t be real.
But Isagi made it hard.
He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, his every action a silent plea for you to stay.
On the last night, as you sat together on the couch, the weight of everything unsaid hung heavy in the air.
“I don’t want this to end,” he said quietly, breaking the silence.
You looked at him, your chest aching. “Yoichi…”
“I mean it,” he said, his voice trembling. “I don’t care about the program, or soccer, or anything else. I just want to be with you.”
Tears welled in your eyes. “You can’t mean that,” you said, shaking your head. “You love soccer. It’s your dream. I can’t compete with that, and I shouldn’t have to.”
“You’re not a competition,” he said, his voice desperate. “You’re everything. I’ll give it all up if that’s what it takes—”
“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “Don’t say that. You’d hate me for it. And I couldn’t live with that.”
His shoulders slumped, his expression crumbling. “So that’s it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
You wiped at your tears, forcing yourself to stay strong. “That’s it.”
The next morning, you packed your things in silence.
Isagi didn’t try to stop you. He didn’t say goodbye.
As you walked out of the apartment for the last time, you allowed yourself one final glance back.
He was standing in the doorway, his blue eyes filled with a pain that mirrored your own.
But you turned away, knowing that some dreams were too big to share.
And some loves weren’t meant to last.
10/10 recommend listening to the one that got away acoustic version it makes this so much sadder
“I’ll spend all my money on you ‘cause you’re worth it”
Synopsis: You never planned on ending up at an illegal street race, yet here you are, dragged along by your best friend, who’s determined to hook up with some hot guy. Meanwhile, all you wanted was a quiet night in, binging Netflix and avoiding drama. But as the engines roar and the crowd buzzes with excitement, your stomach sinks—your eyes land on someone in the crowd of people; one of the racers, and it’s none other than your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. Michael Kaiser
TAGS & TWs- AGED UP CHARACTERS, AFAB reader, street racer!kaiser, sadist kaiser, face riding, car fucking, racer!au, racer kaiser, kaiser smokes, kaiser has a tongue piercing, car sex, p in v, ex’s best friend, mentions of a non related character, use of yn (once), kaiser calls you ‘engel’ ‘mein schatz’ ‘prinzessin’ ‘baby’, kaiser smokes weed, use of weed, car sex, cunilingus, tit play?, ex boyfriend’s bsf, creampie, porn no plot?mentions of pregnancy?, intimate, kaiser is an asshole, he’s a playboy, size diff/if you squint, face sitting, NOT EDITED, more shit that i forgot to add, unprotected sex, slight fluff, teasing,grammatical errors, lack of vocabulary
Characters- yn (reader), kaiser,
Fandom- blue lock
Words -5.1k
A/N-READ WARNINGS!!! Kaiser birthday story, Christmas and new years, 3 in 1 😈. first time writing smut, kinda nervous 😓.YALL TS IS NOT EDITED SO DON'T COME FOR ME. idk where this idea came from, this is kinda ooc kaiser so idk. Also the reader isn’t cheating, she broke up with her bf. Btw this is soo long but it’s so worth it, trust. Idk what i’m talking about, just read it, it’ll be worth your time! Once again, i can’t write smut so idk, I'm bad at endings
“Mia, I seriously hate you.” you grumbled as your childhood best friend dragged you across the asphalt, past the large groups of people and finally to your destination. You both stood in front of what seemed like a 100 or more cars with twice as many people surrounding the area.
“You don’t hate me, babe—you love me," she teased with a mischievous grin, looping her arms around your waist before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.
"While you’re busy pouting under your storm cloud of despair, I’m off to find myself a sexy man who knows how to handle me." Her laughter echoed behind her as she sauntered away, tossing you a playful air kiss over her shoulder.
Wow, really? She drags me here and leaves me?
You thought to yourself. But she was right, you’re already out of the house so you can’t just sit around with a pissy face.
Deciding to look around the place, you sashayed down the tarmac, heels clicking and skirt swaying with the cool spring night breeze chilling your mostly exposed leg.
Despiste your unwillingness to go out, you still put effort into your outfit. A mini, low rise black cargo skirt, with a white g-string thong resting on your hip bones. As for the top, a black and white cropped bomber jacket with “ferrari” in bold letters written on it. It was zipped up but you were wearing a cute white lace bra underneath, matching the thong.
You swayed your hips, looking at the unique cars. Until something caught your eye, it wasn't a car but definitely something you could look at all night.
Micheal kaiser. Your ex’s best friend— ex’s ex best friend? You heard they got into a fight over something but weren’t sure if they were still friends or not— almost as if he could feel your eyes on him, he tilted his head in your direction and it felt like every ounce of oxygen was sucked clean from your lungs.
You didn’t break eye contact though. Fuck no, you weren’t no pussy. No lie, he looked sexy, leaning against his detailed car, arms crossed, his eyes undressing you. His outfit, oddly similar to yours. Black baggy cargos paired with a grey-ish shirt and a red and black bomber jacket with random sponsors on the front and ferrari written on the back with the logo.
His blond and blue hair grazed his neck and complimented his dark fit.
His expression was blank but his eyes.. His eyes glaring at you with lust. Maybe he was making you a little nervous. Running a tongue across your bottom lip, you looked away from him but his gaze never left you. Watching your torso move with every step you took, the way your thighs were on display, looking like a full 5 star meal.
He pushed himself off his car, stalking your way.
A large arm came from behind, wrapping around your waist and pulling you against a hard chest. You flinched, eyes shot up to crash with piercing blue ones.
“Looks like we have an unexpected guest here” Kaiser smirked. Maybe you were imagining things but you could swear you felt his hand move lower down your exposed waist.
“Kaiser, what’re you doing” your voice coming out more hushed than expected. He still heard you, over the blaring radio music and the chattering of people.
“Whaddya think i'm doing, engel?” he swiftly turned you around, pulling you in closer till your chest was squished against his hard muscles.
“That's not answering my question.” biting back but that only seemed to add to his amusement.
“Oh, i'm sorry, beautiful. Want me to spell it our for you?” you rolled your eyes, looking away.
“I wanna fuck you; you look breath taking, Engel. Wanna see what you’re hiding under these sexy clothes.” of course he did. Average player, walking up to good looking girls and saying they wanna fuck without shame. his lips brushed against your ears and even after knowing that… fucking god, those words went straight to your core.
“Have you no shame? You're asking your best friend's ex if she wants to be fucked by you.”
“So you think you can have me so easily?”
“Hm, I can't?” he pouted like you actually hurt him, making you scoff
“Boy, please. I know my worth, especially after that good for nothing friend of yours.”
“You should, Engel because I only go after things that are priceless.”
“And that fucker ain’t a friend no more”
You let out a small laugh, looking up at him, feeling his hand move lower, tracing the curve of your ass, to the back of your exposed thigh. Giving it a tight squeeze.
“Kai-”
“Shh.. so, is that a yes?”
“Are you gonna race?” you questioned, trying to ignore the intruding presence of Kaiser's hand.
“Yeah, why?” he tilted his head, confused.
“Because. If you win.. I'm all yours, handsome” deciding to play along. your hand clutched the collar of his jacket, pulling him down until your lips were mere inches from his.
His eyes narrowed on yours, lips tilting up into a mischievous smirk.
“Just wait, Prinzessin. You’ll be mine before the end of the night and i’ll have that tight pussy of yours swallowing my cock whole in the back of my car till sunrise” he licked your bottom lip and if he couldn’t get any hotter, you caught a glimpse of the little silver ball on his tongue making your breath get stuck in your throat.
You swallowed sharply, making him chuckle, landing a harsh slap on the back of your thigh making you yelp. Heat covered your face but also your pussy that was already soaked.
You pushed away from him, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Go win first, you player”
He chuckled at your reaction, walking past you but he stopped turning his head back
“I want you ready for my cock before I come back. I’ll show you what fucking means, that good for nothing ex of yours won’t compare, Engel”
His face more serious, jaw clenched, before landing a light slap on your ass and walking away.
You rolled your eyes, whispering under your breath about how he’s so full of himself that he’ll win.
What if he did win?
Not being able to help yourself, you bit your bottom lip. Adjusting your skirt, you sauntered over to the large line up of people that were screaming their lungs off.
fuck, why am I nervous now.. I already agreed on.. No, i initiated this bet.
You let out a breath, your gaze landing on Kaser's sleek Ford Mustang Shelby GT500, its black body accented with striking crimson red stripes. The car came to a smooth stop just shy of the white starting line, both the driver and passenger windows rolled down. One hand rested casually on the wheel, the other draped over the window's edge. His entire demeanor radiated ease—relaxed, almost effortlessly confident.
A few, maybe 6 or 7 cars parked beside him. A lexus RC f, mclaren, porsche and a handful more of cars which you couldn’t name. He craned his neck, those endless blue eyes clashing with yours.
It’s like this fucker always knows where i am.
He can spot you with such ease, it was scary. He revved his engine, not breaking eye contact. He seemed to be chewing something, gum perhaps?
His lips were set in a firm, unyielding line, but the slightest curve hinted at something deeper—desire held in check.
A chill ran down your spine, making you break eye contact.
Looking around at the scenery, bright lights from the cars partially lit up the dark night in the middle of tokyo. The light reflected off the shiny clothes and glitter that some girls were wearing. It was quite beautiful, you couldn’t lie.
Kaiser’s hand tightened around the steering wheel, relaxing back into his seat. His free hand reached down and adjusted his aching cock. Staring down at his tatted hand, he flexed his knuckles, looking back up at the road.
The air was thick with the scent of rubber and gasoline, the faint hum of the other cars vibrating the ground beneath his feet. He barely glanced at the others, all lined up in their brightly modified machines.
The feeling of competition, of raw power, surged through him as he shifted into position.
In the distance, a girl with blonde shoulder length hair, tiny ripped jean shorts and a cropped F1 shirt stood at the front of the line, her silhouette framed by the glaring headlights of the surrounding cars. She wasn’t here for the race, but to make sure it went off without a hitch. The flag in her hand fluttered slightly in the wind, the only sign of calm before the storm.
You felt a little uneasy, with how she was eyeing everyone, especially Kaiser and he was looking back, but not with the same lustful expression he looked at you with.
She made eye contact with Kaser as she raised the flag high above her head, signaling the racers. His heart raced, but it wasn’t from fear—it was anticipation. The entire world seemed to slow as the flag slowly dipped, her movements precise, measured.
The signal came.
The moment the flag dropped, Kaser’s foot slammed down on the gas pedal, the car shooting forward with explosive force. Tires screeched on the asphalt as he zipped past the other racers, the sound of roaring engines filling his ears. He didn’t look back. The road ahead was all that mattered.
You gulped, watching closely at the speed Kaiser took off. Your stomach jumped and flipped with nervousness.
This wasn’t exactly your first time watching a race but it was your first time watching someone you knew race.
The road was blocked off, and the course was clear, stretching in front of him like a ribbon of opportunity. He and the other six or seven drivers raced down the long, winding stretch of asphalt, their cars growling, tires gripping the ground as they hit the curves with precision. The streetlights above flickered in the distance, casting fleeting shadows as the cars tore through the empty streets.
You clutched the sleeves of your bomber jacket.
You’ll be mine before the end of the night
His words tainted your mind like stubborn dye.
if he wins.. I’m his
The first turn was sharp, a quick swerve to the left, but Kaser was already in the lead. His car slid just inches away from the corner, his experience guiding him, his mind focused only on the road. Behind him, the sound of tires screeching echoed—someone was catching up.
A green car with decals neared Kaiser's, challenging him without words. Kaiser wasn’t someone who said no to a challenge, ever.
You calmed yourself down, tugging at your jackets. The wind was only getting chiller but you felt hot, you were burning on the inside.
He was ahead, barely, but the green car with decals plastered across its hood and doors was closing in fast. Its engine snarled as it surged alongside him, inches away from his driver-side door.
The green car edged closer, forcing Kaiser to cut tighter into the turn. The tires screeched in protest, the Mustang hugging the curve with precision, but the green car matched him move for move. He risked a glance through his side mirror and caught a glimpse of the driver—a shadowy figure with a determined glint in their eyes. The bastard was pushing him to his limits.
Kaiser gritted his teeth, shifting gears to squeeze every ounce of power from the Mustang’s engine. The green car's front bumper inched closer, almost aligning with his. He could feel the heat of the rival engine, the vibrations from their near-collision rattling through his bones.
The finish line loomed ahead, a glowing strip marked by cheering crowds. The green car made its move, veering slightly toward Kaiser, trying to force him off his line. For a split second, the Mustang wobbled, a rare falter from its unshakable steadiness.
Kaiser eyed you near the start but also the finish line of the race. A menacing smirk grew across his lips.
He knew what he wanted and he would get it.
At the last possible moment, he tapped the brakes—a fraction of a second adjustment that let the green car overcommit to its attack. The rival swerved wide, losing its trajectory just enough.
Kaiser floored it, the Mustang roaring like a beast unleashed. The finish line surged closer, the crowd's shouts growing louder. The green car clawed back, its engine screaming in defiance, but Kaiser held his line.
With mere inches to spare, his Mustang’s nose crossed the finish line ahead of the green car. The crowd erupted as Kaiser eased off the gas, his breathing heavy but even. He threw a glance into the rearview mirror, catching the flash of frustration on his rival's face before smirking to himself.
Close, but not close enough.
He stepped out of the vehicle like the winner he was. Confidence surrounding him, and that cocky smirk back on his face.
A large group of guys and half naked girls ran up to him, surrounding him, while the other racers dapped him up.
The crowd swarmed him, a wave of cheers and congratulations filling the air, but none of it seemed to matter to him. His ocean-blue eyes cut through the noise and chaos, finding you effortlessly.
Running a tattooed hand through his silky styled hair, which brushed just past the nape of his neck, he moved toward you. Your heart raced, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through your veins.
Instinctively, you stepped back, but his hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly. With a sharp tug, he pulled you into his chest, the sudden closeness stealing the breath from your lungs.
“No congrats for me, Engel?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.
You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to the crown tattooed on his hand. “Why would you need a ‘congrats’ from your prize?” you replied with a sly hum, the playful edge in your voice challenging him.
His eyes darkened slightly, narrowing as he placed both hands on your thighs with practiced ease. Before you could react, he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. Instinct took over, and your legs wrapped around his waist, anchoring yourself as you gasped in surprise.
“Kaiser! What the hell!” you exclaimed, gripping his shoulders for balance. Your freshly done nails pressed into his skin, but he didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care.
“Shh, quiet, pretty,” he whispered, his voice dripping with amusement. “Now, arms around my neck.”
Reluctantly, you obeyed, the intimacy of the moment leaving you speechless.
His hand moved higher from your thigh to your ass, gripping it tightly.
Red painted your face, hiding yourself in the crook of kaiser’s neck.
“People are staring..” you mumbled against his cologne scented skin. It was hard not to breathe him in, especially when he smelled like addiction.
“Let them stare. I won you fair and square. No one’s gonna stop me from enjoying my prize, right?” you could hear the devilish smirk in his tone. Some of his highlighted blue hair grazed your cheek.
“Fuck baby, are you sure you’re wearing something under your skirt and those strings aren’t just decoration?” he whispered against your ear, making you squirm in his hold. Slapping his back.
“Don’t say such perverted things out loud, mihya’” the words only got a laugh out of him.
“If you think what i’m saying now is perverted, just wait ‘till i have my way with you”
Finally he started walking, pushing past the endless groups of people, his rough hands still on your ass like he owned it.
He placed you in the passenger seat, and he settled in the driver’s seat.
Barely a second passed before someone yelled a warning about the police. The crowd erupted into chaos, scattering like water to hot oil.
ㅤㅤ˖ㅤㅤ ֗ ㅤㅤ ࣭ ㅤ ⊹ ㅤ⋆ㅤㅤ ۪ㅤ﹢ㅤ ࣪ ㅤ
40 minutes. Kaiser sped away from the cops, 15 minutes ago. He drove you both somewhere far and quiet. Serene and peaceful.
For the past 15 minutes, you were straddling his lap in the driver's seat of his Ford.
Slowly grinding down on him every few moments. His seat was pushed back, just enough. Those perfect lips of his wrapped around a blunt, he blew the smoke out in your face, watching you inhale it like a good girl.
His tatted hand rested on your side, upper thigh, your hip. His fingers gently caressed the skin, snapping the band of your thong whenever he wanted to pull you out of your daze.
The bulge in his cargos pressing up into your ass.
His head tilted back, eyes open just a slit, almost bloodshot red, a lazy grin plastered over his lips.
“Kaiser” you whined. Rubbing your wet pussy over his protruding bulge.
He slapped the side of your thigh, leaving a large red imprint of his hand.
Making you gasp, dropping your head down on his shoulder
“Please..” you begged, your voice breaking as you bit down on his inked skin.
“Please what, Engel? Use your words, I know you can do it” he cooed, rubbing the abused area.
He took a hit from the joint, holding the smoke in his mouth. He put out the joint, throwing it in the empty cup holder.
Kaiser pulled you back with your hair, cupping your jaw. He pulled you in, his lips a breath away from yours.
The car smelt like weed. The smoke that he held in his mouth was blown out into your parted lips.
He grinned as you moved your hips again.
You licked his bottom lip, tasting the remains of your cherry lip gloss on his lips.
From when he pulled you onto his lap and crashed his lips on you and sucked your oxygen out your lungs and bit your lip until you bled like a wild animal.
“I wanna ride your tongue.” You mumbled against his lips.
His eyes thinned, letting out a cruel chuckle.
“Tell me, first..”
“Hm?”
“Am I better than that sorry excuse of a man”
His face fell into a serious one. You knew exactly who he was referring to.
“So much better.. In every way possible” mumbling against his lips.
ㅤㅤ˖ㅤㅤ ֗ ㅤㅤ ࣭ ㅤ ⊹ ㅤ⋆ㅤㅤ ۪ㅤ﹢ㅤ ࣪ ㅤ
Tears streaked down your cheeks as your palms pressed firmly against the headrest.
Kaiser lounged in the fully reclined driver's seat, his broad frame at ease against the leather. His large hands rested on your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh with a firm yet deliberate touch.
You moved your hips sensually, the little cold silver ball on his tongue pressing up against your clit. He thrusted his middle and ring finger inside your clenching hole.
Advantage by Daniel Di Angelo played in the background, the music was only background noise because none of the lyrics reached your ears, only the sound of your moans and the sounds of him slurping and drinking you up.
“Kaiser! O-oh fuck..” You rolled your hips onto his tongue wanting more and more, making him chuckle. A harsh slap landed on your ass making you whimper.
“You’re fucking dripping down my hand, Prinzessin.” you stared down at him in a daze. Cheeks flushed red, lips swollen from being kissed too hard, knuckles turning white from the grip on the seat.
He moved his tongue back and forth. The tip of his tongue rolling against your clit and his fingers expertly working on your insides.
The slurping sounds nearly echoed in the car, he ate you out like a starved man. A man who hasn’t been fed in weeks.
He teased your entrance with his tongue.
“Look at you, you’re pussy’s sucking my fingers in and now it’s asking for my tongue” you could hear the grin that was plastered across his face. His voice was a little muffled so you thought you were suffocating him, trying to shift your weight but that only made him grip the back of your thighs harder, pulling you in closer.
“Don’t.” was all he said before your ex’s best friend went back to tonging you down. You let out a small moan, your mouth hanging open.
He had such a dirty fucking mouth and it turned you on more than anything.
You’ve always known Kaiser for being good at everything but who would’ve thought he was just as good with his tongue and fingers as he was with his words.
“Kaiser! Wan’na cum” You pleaded, looking down at his face half covered with your pelvis.
“Cum but don’t whine about being overstimulated when i'm fucking you”
Throwing your head back. You dug your nails into the car seat, finishing all over his mouth and fingers with a muffled scream.
The sadist under you just grinned, sucking up all your juices, fucking his tongue inside your pussy as his finger’s were doing.
Your legs were shaking, thighs pressing either side of his head. He didn’t stop, no. He only went faster, laughing at your reaction.
He wrapped both his hands around your thighs. Lifting you up and placing you on his lap. Sitting up and fixing the seat with him.
“Get in the back seat” he didn’t need to say more, you were already climbing off his lap and into the back seats, your back hitting the car door.
Kaiser followed after. He unbuttoned his jeans, unzipping and palming his raging erection through his black boxers.
On instinct you spread your legs open. Taking your jacket off, your shirt and skirt soon followed. You ran your fingers through Kaiser's hair, down his neck and pulling his bomber jacket off. Tugging at his shirt for him to remove that as well.
His hand traced down your stomach, around your waist, tracing up your spine and unclasping your bra single handedly. Leaning in, he pressed his lips against yours, nibbling your bottom lip, his lips were soft like silk and sweet like cherries.
You squirmed under his body, trying to shimmy out of your panties but he grabbed your wrist before you could.
“They stay on.” he kissed his teeth, the moonlight hit his side, defining the curves and ridges of his well crafted face.
He pulled on the damp part of your thong, watching it snap against your clit
You whined out, arching your back. He smirked at your reaction, doing it a few more times
“So sensitive for me”
Your legs already felt like jelly due to your recent orgasm that you rode out on Kaiser's face.
“How badly do you want it?” The asshole in front Of you hummed, latching himself onto your neck, leaving even more dark hickies and bite marks.
You whimpered, pulling at his silky strands.
“Kaiser, i fucking hate you, i want it so bad, you’re so much better than my other man, please, please make me feel good” You rambled on not even noticing he had pulled his leaking cock out his boxers and lined it up against your entrance.
Before you could even utter another word, his entire length was inside of you in one quick thrust.
He groaned, saying something about how tight you were.
Your pupils rolled to the back of your head, tugging at the blonde hair on his scalp. He hissed probably due to pain but never told you to stop.
The sound of skin slapping echoed in the car, the car violently shook at his animalistic pace.
His small groans and your loud screams added to the mix of both his and your bodies stuck onto each other.
Kaiser’s hand massaged your soft body, from your thighs, hips to your waist. His eyes bloodshots and pupils dilated like he’s under a hex.
“So fucking tight for me, engel even after all that tongue fucking” he wrapped both his hands around your waist, digging his thumbs into your stomach which had you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and dig your heels into his lower back.
“You might end up pregnant if you do that shit” he smirked, nibbling on your jaw making you roll your eyes.
“Oh please, i'm on birth control”
“So, can I cum inside?”
You bit the sides of your cheek, looking up at him, it was hard to see his face as it got darker but you knew he was looking back.
A small nod and a hum of agreement was all he needed before he pulled back and thrusted into you with no remorse, kaiser’s pelvis flush against your skin. His pace was rough and fast with long thrusts.
The sound of his cock fucking you silly filled the idle but shaking car. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, while you cried out for him.
“Mihya!! Fuck! Fuck! More, please” you begged for him as if he wasn’t already inside of you.
“Do you hear that, baby?” he referred to the sound your soaking pussy was making as it swallowed his cock.
“So wet f’me.. Imagine if your ex saw you like this. Taking every inch of his best friend’s cock. He’d freak.”
He laughed like a menace, biting down on your collar bone. Your throat going dry from crying out and screaming Michael's name. It’s like all the water from your body was emptied out, you felt thirsty but not for water.
Kaiser’s forehead glistened with sweat, his hands moved from your waist to your plump thighs, pushing them up to your chest, practically folding you in half.
Your pussy throbbed around his length.
“Doing so fuckin’ good for me, engel. You take it like such a good girl”
He cooed, his voice raspy, you gripped the sides of the car seat, leaning up to sloppily kiss him.
“Kaiser! D-don’t stop-p” the words coming out broken, like a sob. Tears rolled down your face as he thrusted inside you at an animalistic pace.
He put your legs on his shoulders, before moving down to take your nipples in his mouth and the other in his large hands. Rolling the tight bud between his fingers and the other has his teeth around it.
“You’re a slut for my cock, baby. Look at how your going cross eyed and your tongue is hanging out.”
“Makes me wanna ruin you, rearrange your inside, do everything no other man could do.”
He growled against your skin. His words made your pussy spasm, tightening around his cock.
“Kais- kai ‘m close.. So cl-close” throwing your arms around his neck, your nails scratching down his back.
He hissed, biting down on the nipple until a metallic taste exploded in his mouth. You whimpered, but he couldn’t care less. He left hickies down your chest.
“He could never fuck you like this, look at how you suck my cock inside, you’re fucking swallowing it whole, you dirty slut. I'm gonna cum so deep inside you.”
He groaned, his voice coming out muffled as he buried it in your neck.
“Cum for me, engel”
Kissing your neck, you cried out, tightening your grip around his neck, your pussy choked his cock which was all he needed to empty his load inside of you. A mere two or three thrusts had you painting his cock white.
A cruel smirk grew on his lip. He pressed his hand down on your stomach.
“Can you feel my cum inside you, y/n” kissing the side of your lips, you let out a shaky breath, coming down from your high. Legs shaking as they dropped from his shoulders.
“You’ve gone silent.” he mumbled, his large body collapsing on top of you, making you groan.
“I'm recovering from the shock of how good your dick is” your voice coming out slightly hoarse. “Jesus, how bad was your man in bed?” he laughed, genuinely laughed at what you said.
“Fucking horrible. I had to get off by myself every time. He would cum in 2 minutes and fall asleep. And he had a small dick”
“Figures, i'm not surprised, he had a woman like you and fumbled so hard, he couldn’t recover from this even 4 generations down the line.”
You giggled at how serious kaiser sounded, his head rested on your chest, his cock gone soft now but it was still inside you. As if to stop his cum from leaking out.
Wrapping both your arms around his neck, running a soft hand through his hair.
“You’re sweaty”
“So are you, mihya” he smiled against your skin. Kissing your chest. The car fell silent and you swore the only thing that could be heard was your heartbeat.
“I can hear it.”
“Hear what?” you mumbled, eyes feeling heavy
“Your heartbeat, it's fast”
“Thank god, i might’ve been dead without it”
“pfft- really? That’s crazy”
Once again it was silent. But it wasn’t awkward. It felt… intimate.. More intimate than the sex. The way your fingers soothingly ran through his blond hair, his head resting on top of you, relaxing to the rhythm of your heartbeat.
“Hey, mihya..”
“Hmm?”
“Happy new years”
It's like a spell was broken, kaiser got up, looking at you confused. Get sat up on his knees, between your thighs. Reaching over to the glove box and grabbing his phone to see the date and time.
00:10 (12:10A.M) Jan 1st, 2025
“Fuck, how’d i not know today was new years eve”
“What the fuck” you deadpanned
“How can you not know the date”
He looked down at you, leaning in to kiss you, gently. Which caught you off guard but you kissed back, he licked your bottom lip, his piercing running along your skin. You trembled as he moved back.
“Happy new years, mein schatz”
“What’s with all these nicknames, huh?”
“Someone as perfect as you needs all of them, not only one” laughing under your breath, you glanced up at him. The moment soon died when he pulled out of you, his cum dripped out your pussy which had you gasping at the loss of warmth.
“Fucking hell- kaiser!”
“‘M sorry, engel, i had to pull out eventually”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Running 2 fingers along your folds, he shoved some of his cum back inside. Your eyes narrowed on him, only for him to laugh it off.
Kaiser wasn’t the type to sit back and let moments come to him. He seized them, bent them to his will, and made them his. So when you shyly suggested spending New Year’s Eve together, just the two of you, he couldn’t resist making it a night to remember.
You weren’t sure what you’d expected when he showed up at your apartment that evening. A casual dinner? Watching fireworks from the balcony? Maybe a kiss at midnight?
But Michael Kaiser didn’t do anything halfway.
The knock at your door came promptly at 8 PM, and when you opened it, your breath caught. Kaiser stood there, dressed in a sharp, tailored coat, his blond hair glinting under the hallway light. He held out his hand with an amused smirk.
“Don’t tell me you’re planning to spend New Year’s Eve in pajamas,” he teased, his eyes sweeping over your cozy outfit.
You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “What’s wrong with pajamas? I thought we agreed on a quiet night in.”
“Correction,” he said, stepping into your space. “You said that. I, however, had a better idea.”
Before you could protest, he grabbed your hand and led you toward his car, parked just outside. The city sparkled like a jewel against the night sky, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement despite yourself.
“Where are we going?” you asked as he opened the passenger door for you, his usual smirk softening into something almost... tender.
“You’ll see,” he said simply, the glint in his eye making it clear he wasn’t going to spoil the surprise.
The drive was filled with playful banter, his confidence disarming as always. Every now and then, he’d glance at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips when he thought you weren’t looking.
Eventually, the car slowed as you approached a quiet hill overlooking the city. The view was breathtaking—lights stretched as far as the eye could see, the buzz of the city below muted by the distance.
“You did all this for me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you stepped out of the car.
“For us,” he corrected, pulling out a blanket and a thermos from the trunk. “I figured if we’re going to ring in the new year, we might as well do it right.”
You settled onto the blanket together, the thermos revealed to hold hot chocolate he’d actually made himself (“I’m not just a pretty face, you know,” he’d said, winking). The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, the city’s lights twinkling like stars as you leaned into his side.
“Why go through all this trouble?” you asked eventually, your voice breaking the quiet. “You could’ve spent tonight anywhere—with anyone.”
Kaiser turned to you, his expression unusually serious. “Do you really not see it?”
“See what?”
“You’re the only person who makes all of this—the games, the fame, the pressure—worth it,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “You remind me there’s more to life than winning.”
Your breath hitched at the vulnerability in his tone, so different from the confident, almost cocky Kaiser you were used to. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering.
As the countdown began from a distance, carried on the faint cheers of the city below, his eyes never left yours.
“Ten! Nine! Eight!”
Kaiser cupped your face gently, his thumb tracing your cheek.
“Seven! Six! Five!”
“I don’t need fireworks to celebrate,” he murmured. “All I need is you.”
“Four! Three! Two!”
And when the clock struck midnight, his lips found yours—warm, firm, and full of promises for a new year together.
The world around you seemed to pause, the distant sound of fireworks fading as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his signature smirk returning.
info: prince!kaiser x f!reader, enemies to lovers, fantasy au, arranged marriage, eventual smut. afab reader w she/her pronouns. reader has an established backstory and is not weak, reader’s appearance is nondescript. reader calls him “mihya” as they get closer. oliver and karasu are bffs in this lol. maybe some angst if you squint. happy ending!! plot is balanced with comedic moments.
synopsis: You will be killed by the one you love most. That line from his prophecy has haunted Kaiser his whole life. Against it all, you stand before him. Will you be the one to rewrite fate itself?
word count: 14k (please don’t let this scare you, i promise my writing is efficient)
a/n: this might be my magnum opus, i promise i poured my best dialogue and writing into this and it shows. if you consider reading like so seriously i will love you forever. also the smut is huge just like his cock <3 or my heart
Kaiser has been forsaken thrice fold. First, by his parents. His mother is said to be a beautiful woman that captured the hearts of all. His father could not bear her ultimate betrayal: leaving, causing him to wither away to nothing.
Kaiser guesses that this aspect of her runs in his blood after all.
The second and third time he is forsaken happen at once.
On the night that Kaiser is, by royal decree, anointed successor to the throne, he does as tradition dictates. He approaches the golden temple at the top of a mountain and mirrors the prophet within, sitting cross-legged in front of them.
The prophet gazes into the distance. And then, like a man possessed, they speak.
Lone Emperor who covets the throne,
You will be killed by the one you love most.
Kaiser swears he feels even his heart stop at that. Cold rushes through him, the chill of it colder than anything he had felt at the front lines of war.
Forsaken by all the Gods —
The prophet stops, staring into the distance with a frown.
The silence is deafening. Noa, despite tradition, interrupts the ceremony and approaches the prophet, clicking his fingers in front of their face.
“The prophecy?”
The prophet’s eyes widen with fear. “I- I cannot.”
“What, are you afraid?” Kaiser scoffs. “The prophecy is bad as it is, it can’t get much worse than that.”
“No, I mean I cannot. The — the Fates! They’ve stopped speaking to me!”
“Excuse me?” Kaiser’s scowl is evident, and Noa swears that in any other situation, Kaiser would’ve moved for his sword and set his blade ablaze.
It speaks volumes that all he does is stare right at the prophet, fear barely contained in his eyes.
The prophet grips at Noa’s hand, forcing his gaze. “My lord, please believe me. This — in the history... it has never happened before. I swear it.”
Noa whistles, and the guards outside come rushing in. “Seize them,” he commands, and they stare at each other for a moment.
To seize and capture that which is considered holy? Is that not blasphemy?
Noa cares little, almost removing his sword from his sheath to do it himself. “What are you all waiting for?”
“My lord! I swear to you!” The prophet grapples towards Noa in spite of their hands being held behind their back, the guards barely catching them from falling to their knees. “The fact that I would admit this at all shows my loyalty to you!” The prophet gasps, breath coming fast.” I could have pretended, could have given a false prophecy. I did not. That’s the choice I made. That is all the proof you need.”
It’s convincing enough that Noa hesitates, taking a deep breath in. But he sees in the corner of his eye Kaiser’s state, sitting in the kind of stillness that you see before a battle, bent over at the bottom of the altar.
At that sight, Noa makes a single motion with his hand for the prophet to be taken away.
The room clears.
“Kaiser, I —”
Whatever comforting remark Noa might have made dies in his throat, because Kaiser laughs, a bitter and broken sound, that he would in the future rarely have his walls down to ever reveal again. He hides his eyes behind his hand and he laughs.
“Of course, my prophecy would come to something like this.” He drags his hand down across his face. “Forsaken by all the Gods.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Noa says it with conviction, and it’s enough for Kaiser to face him.
“Master?”
“You will still be the successor to the throne. As is your destiny.”
“My destiny?” Kaiser jabs a thumb to the now-empty seating. “We just heard my destiny.”
“What the gods have declared has nothing to do with me. I declare you the next to rule. That is all.”
Noa presses a hand to the crown of Kaiser’s head. “No one will know what transpired here. A tragic prophecy is a given. It is meant to be a trial of sorts, after all. Mine, too, was unpleasant. Though not nearly as dire.”
“What was yours?”
Noa breathes in deeply. “A twisted rivalry with a twisted man. One that was to be all-consuming to me.”
Kaiser scoffs. “A rivalry. Just train and win.”
Noa lets the comment pass, staring out of the temple and past the mountains. “The rivalry came and went. At the time, I felt it was the worst. I could not eat, sleep, or breathe without the thought of what he would do next on my mind. But I was lucky, that it passed.”
He motions for Kaiser to take his arm, bringing him back up to standing. “Yours will pass too, I’m sure of it.”
Kaiser waves his hand, gesturing at Noa to let go of him. It’s easy to say, easy to have faith when it is not your life that balances on the precipice.
Forsaken thrice: once, by his parents. Another, by the Gods. And third, by his own future lover. Kaiser curses the Gods and the Weaver for such a fate, for something possibly worse than death is looming over him.
You will be killed by the one you love most. That line has haunted his very being to this day.
~
The people do not know what causes their successor to turn so cold, as biting and harsh as winter itself. His quicksilver smile rattles bones, his sword is cutting like blood in snow.
The prophecy is on a need-to-know basis, and Kaiser has never been crueler. He trains, harder than ever. Enough that when an unmovable sword is found at the rocks of the ocean, he trains until he is able to pull it from the bank, wield it with one hand. Rumor has said it might take three men to carry, or that the night sky that shimmers across it is strong enough to kill even a god. His sole retrieval of it is proof to the people of his strength and stature, but compassion and love are rarely a topic of conversation with his name.
He focuses on his work. He does not take lovers. He barely sees others as friends. And he most certainly does not take a bride.
~
You appear before the throne and you do not bow. The scowl on Kaiser’s face at this says enough.
“You dare-”
“You have the sword.” You ignore Kaiser entirely, setting your sights completely on Noa.
The silence that follows is as large and wide as the ocean, but your gaze is sharp and keen, never faltering once until Noa speaks.
“Water sorceress,” Noa addresses you coldly, “or that’s what you told our people.”
“Yes.”
“You are not the only sorceress of water. Yet your power is second to none.” Noa stands, stepping down the stairs with heavy, thumping footfalls until he’s standing right in front of you. “They call you the water’s mistress, in the neighboring lands.”
“They do.”
He begins to circle you, like a hunter might before striking a deer. Standing next to you, his deep voice clear right next to your ear, he eyes you curiously. “They’re all wrong, aren’t they?”
You don’t answer. Noa takes that as answer enough.
“A power like that. Do you think me stupid?” He observes you, checks you visually for weapons, watches your hands to ensure you don’t call magic forth.
“Demigod.” He about spits the word from behind you, and yet all you do is tilt your head to catch him in your eye’s view.
“You are as well-informed as they say.”
“I am as logical as they come.”
“We are the same in that regard, then. So let’s get straight to the point.”
Noa returns back to the throne, seemingly satisfied with his observing, gesturing at you to continue.
“You have something belonging to me. A sword, heavier than most. Ancient, yet sharp. It is said to look like it contains a night sky.”
“The blade you’re speaking of was found by us, it is ours to keep.”
In the short silence that follows, Kaiser swears there must be irritation on your end, but you don’t show it. Instead, you take a deep breath in.
“The blade was thrown out of the heavens and spat out into this realm during a war between Gods.”
“Is that so? And how can you prove it’s yours?”
“I can wield it, unlike your people, who do not have the means to wield a sword as such.” You state simply.
Like rose grown blue, the impossible becomes possible. You can feel the divinity and the power that comes off the sword in waves the minute it’s unsheathed, your eyes widening. The ring of it is as familiar to you as your own skin, how could you not have felt its presence sooner? But Kaiser is fast, much faster than you expected, faster than he should be with a sword of that weight, that magnitude. Before you can turn your head, cold silver kisses your neck.
“This blade, sorceress?” He comes around from behind you, stalks around you just like his Master had, sword pointed like it may just draw blood from you at any moment. When you finally see his face, his sneer is wicked.
He takes pride in your wide-eyed gaze, your sharpened attention, but the lack of fear on your part grates at him. God-killing, they had called the blade. Yet you don’t shy away at all.
“Say we return the sword to its rightful owner,” Noa calls back your attention, “what would you offer us in return?”
“Offer in return? This sword does not belong to you. It is returned, as it should be.”
“This sword, with its divinity, could harm even a god.” Kaiser presses the blade closer to your neck, gleaming metal against your skin. “It protects this nation. What if the gods forsake us? If we return it to you, what would protect us against them then?”
“For what reason would they do such a thing?”
Kaiser barks a laugh. “Of course, there would be no criticisms from one of them. Water sorceress, demigod. Tell us, who are you, truly? What do your people call you, up there? No matter.” He lowers the sword, but leaves it unsheathed, its heavy weight balanced in his palm. A threat that at any moment, he may change his mind. “Those titles mean nothing to me. I have been forsaken, demigod. So know, I trust not even the gods.”
You sigh. Foreseeing a troublesome future has its cons, you suppose. Your queen would smile if you told her such.
“You ask for something with power in equal to or more than the blade. You asked me for my titles. I shall give you both.” The sleeves of your dress shimmer as you move them, and it’s in this moment that Kaiser notices they are not sleeves but water itself, cradled around your wrists like armor. “The Gods had bestowed on me the title Sword Maiden, and I offer myself and my services to you until the end of your line.”
That shocks the room like a bucket of cold water.
You turn to Kaiser, who stands beside the throne. You step forward once, and water rushes underneath that step, descending in waves over the floor as if it goes through it, a magic they have never witnessed prior. “You say the Gods have forsaken you? Let my presence be proof to you that they still watch over you.”
Kaiser scowls, “What sort of cheap trick is this?”
“My domain is truth. I cannot lie.”
“Oh, please.”
Your eyes narrow at him. “Would it help for you to press your sword against my neck once more?”
A goddess who cannot lie. Noa’s faith lies in logic, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His gaze flits between Kaiser and you before he seems to settle a decision in his mind.
“Until the end of Kaiser’s line.” Noa negotiates.
Kaiser’s gaze snaps to Noa. “You’re taking her up on this?”
You almost frown. “Fine.”
Noa quirks an eyebrow at you. “That simple?”
“Human lives move quickly.”
Kaiser eyes you curiously. “What happens when you lie?”
You blink at him. Once. Twice. Is that… almost a flustered look you have on?
He readjusts his grip on the blade. “Speak, sorceress.”
“Wh-What do you want me to say?!” You grip at your dress nervously, and that has him even more curious.
“I’m waiting here,” he sing-songs playfully.
“Before the lie can leave my voice, my neck swells up like a balloon, and chokes me.”
He smiles wickedly. “Demonstrate.”
Gods, if it wasn’t immoral, you could wring his neck right now.
You think, for even a moment, a simple lie. And in seconds, you’re almost suffocating on nothing, and Kaiser laughs. Laughs. A full laugh, bending at his knees.
“Oh gods, you’re like a pufferfish!”
You let go of the lie, taking heaving breaths. “Just because I have water capabilities does not mean I am a fish.”
In the midst of the conversation, Isagi leans against Noa’s side, a soft conversation full of worry.
“You’ll have to explain her presence to the council,” Isagi tells him, blue eyes wide with hesitation.
“Right, and your suggestion?”
“I have thought about it, considerably. If you say you hired her, with a force as powerful as her, the other nations may think you are to wage war. So… Given the heir’s… reputation,” Isagi’s gaze flits nervously between you and Kaiser. “If he is willing, she may be a good fit.”
Noa sighs. This, this exact theory, has been a conversation with the other members of his team for months. That a wife by his side would make him seem less chilling, make the transition to a new heir easier on the public, prevent outroar. It is one thing to feel that Kaiser keeps a nation safe, and another to love him as a ruler.
It’s an easy decision, but a hard conversation.
“Kaiser.”
He whips around, ceasing his antics quickly. “Master.”
Noa looks like he is about to say something to him, but hesitates, turning to you instead. Isagi nervously steps away from the dais, returning to his position.
“Goddess,” this time, there is no malice behind Noa’s words. “I accept your offer. However, your presence in this nation and in this castle must be explained appropriately. Should I bear you the title of my successor’s betrothed, would that be a title you’re willing to bear?”
Kaiser’s back straightens. “Excuse me?” he utters low.
“You do not have to bear children,” he specifies. “And you do not have to truly be wed.”
A goddess, to be betrothed to a mortal, as princely as he is, is a serious affair. Kaiser slides his gaze to Isagi, with the audacity to even suggest such. And yet, you seem to ponder it like a simple question.
“I see. As long as the sword is in my presence and protection, how you communicate with your nation is none of my concern.”
“So be it, then,” Noa agrees quickly. “I’ll have our people show you to a room.”
You nod, and are whisked away. The throne room, as if knowingly, empties quickly, guards rushing out to leave Kaiser alone with Noa.
“You made this decision for me,” Kaiser spins to face Noa, spits his words through gritted teeth. “I have been clear. I will take no brides.”
“You believe the prophecy made a choice for you.”
“The prophecy bears no mercy. Or do you wish for my death so eagerly? If so, take your sword out and do it your damn self.”
Noa lets him speak, heave his words out until there’s silence once more.
“She cannot lie,” Noa says softly. “She cannot lie to you, Kaiser. And she is a goddess, a divine being.”
“Demigod,” Kaiser corrects.
“She is divine, and she cannot lie. She is correct, to this end – that as long as she is here, the prophecy cannot come to be. For she has not forsaken us.” Forsaken you, goes unspoken. “She could be good for you, if you allowed her to be.”
Kaiser lets out a canned laugh. “Ha. How can the divine ever understand us?”
Noa stands. “You’ll have plenty of time to find out.”
Kaiser taps his hand against his sword hilt. “You really will not move on this?”
Noa shakes his head. “She is too valuable to lose, and you have a reputation for cruelty. The solution is nothing short of perfect.”
The logical comes above his feelings. Kaiser knows this, even if he hates to come face to face with it.
Noa walks out of the throne room, leaving Kaiser to his bitterness.
“Shitty master,” he mumbles under his breath to no one.
~
It’s jarring to all the guards, the way you don’t even stand let alone bow when Noa knocks to enter your room. But Noa cares little for things like that, if you’re truly offering what you’ve said.
“Perhaps I was too hasty, in presenting the solution before giving you the facts.” He hesitates before you in the reflection of your vanity. You don’t respond, barely even look at him as you unclasp your jewelry, laying it on the table.
“He will not love you.” Noa tells you after a breath, his surefire eyes finally meeting yours.
You give him a curious gaze. “That is likely for the best. I would outlive him, after all.”
“It is, truly, on a need-to-know basis. To tell you this-”
“The prophecy, I presume you’re referring to,” you interrupt, turning to face him.
The shock rolls quickly off him. Divinity does have its mysteries, he supposes. “You already know.”
“I asked the water, why he is so quick to believe he is forsaken. They told me that he lives under the burden of a prophetic trial. That is all I know.” You stand, moving to unzip your dress only for Noa to hastily pull a partition screen across the room and turn around.
“The water, it speaks to you?”
“It does. Though it’s worth noting that it does not make me all-seeing.” Your voice carries over the partition with the ruffle of clothing. “The queen of the Gods, who sees all fates – she is the only one who is truly all-seeing.”
You come out in a nightgown, folding the partition back. He chucks you a robe that you catch easily.
“You should learn the ways of this world if you want to pass as a simple water sorceress, especially before the banquet.”
You frown. “The prince is my betrothed, is he not? Will he not handle it all?”
The idea you present sparks in Noa’s mind. “Brilliant. I’ll have Kaiser and some of the other members of our team show you the ropes. Good night, sorceress.”
You nod to him, and the door clicks shut.
~
“She’s a what?”
Oliver slams his metal cup of beer down, rolling the dice once more.
“A demigod, Oliver. Gods, are you that drunk already? Keep up.” Karasu grabs at the dice as Oliver moves his pieces.
“Can you all shut the fuck up? What happened to need-to-know basis?” Chigiri slinks himself over to their table.
“We’re need-to-know.” Karasu jabs a thumb at himself and Oliver.
“They are, actually, need-to-know.” Isagi puts a gentle hand on Chigiri’s shoulder, settling down next to him. “Because she’s never been human in her life.”
“And now we’re supposed to, what, teach her to be human? Is that a thing we can do?” Chigiri twirls a strand of hair between his fingers, tapping the end against Isagi’s cheek.
Oliver snorts. “What, like a class? Some of us have never sat in one of those, you prissy little shits.”
“She can’t dance, for one.”
“Get Kaiser to teach her. Isn’t he her betrothed?”
That has Oliver almost spitting out his drink, choking on it in coughs. “He's her what?”
Chigiri scowls in his direction. “Dude, are you listening at all?”
“If she’s really his betrothed, none of us should be teaching her.” Oliver warns genuinely. “He’ll cut down everyone here, before he lets us touch her.”
“It’s just an excuse,” Isagi waves his hand, pulling out a leather-bound bind of notes. “They’re not actually together.”
“Oh, you actually got that motion to pass. Shit.” Karasu remarks admirably.
“It must be so tiring,” Bachira sighs happily, falling into place next to Isagi, “to have to actually care about what other people think.”
“The optics, Bachira,” Isagi smacks the end of his pen across Bachira’s nose, and he makes an oh! sound in response.
When Kaiser walks in, the room almost goes silent. He’s used to it, of course. Hearing only the way his footfalls come heavy, boots thumping into the stone floor as a drink is placed right in front of him immediately.
The room slowly fills back with noise as he shoulders off his coat, wrapping it around the chair before sitting. But only his table is still strangely silent.
He flits his gaze over the group. Usually, they’re the first to kill the silence in the room, yelling about the game or a duel. He looks at Isagi, specifically, who seems the most nervous. “Something you wanna say to me?”
“Uh…”
Chigiri sighs, killing the tension. “We’re deciding who gets to teach her how to dance.”
Kaiser quirks an eyebrow. “The demigod?”
Chigiri nods, and Kaiser takes a long gulp of his drink, popping it back down and twirling the top of it with his fingers. “I’ll do it.”
“What?” It’s Isagi’s turn to be shocked, sitting up straight.
Kaiser exhales audibly. “None of you could handle her. She could cut you with water the moment you accidentally step on her.”
It’s not an insult, really. They know this too. That this is Kaiser’s brand of protection, to add insult to injury just to keep others out of harm’s way. But they play his game.
“Think we can’t dodge fast enough? A bit demeaning, don’t you think?” Oliver’s grin is wicked, making straight eye contact with Kaiser, who only draws his eyebrows in at his direction.
“You think that god-killing sword is gonna save you?” Karasu asks.
“I don’t have the sword anymore.”
“What?”
It stings more than it should, he thinks. The sword that he thought chose only him, so quickly released from his grasp. But his strength is his own, he holds fast to that.
Kaiser glances at Karasu. “Those are the terms. She marries me, she gets the sword.”
Ness rests his cheek on his hand. “Man, that sounds like she wins twice.”
Chigiri scoffs at that. “She’s a demigod. Being down here is probably like being in the sewers to her.”
Kaiser stands abruptly, pushing his drink aside, his coat billowing as he wraps it over himself once more.
“Where are you going?” Isagi yells, but he doesn’t answer.
“He gone for real?” Oliver elbows Karasu. “I’m too drunk to tell.”
“Yeah, man. He’s gone”
“Great.” Oliver slaps a piece down. “I’ll bet 50 bucks right now they get married for real.”
“What the fuck?” Chigiri tilts his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling like it might give him some reprieve.
Karasu laughs, “Okay, I’ll play. I’ll bet 20 that they try to kill each other.”
“You’re just a hater.”
“Nah, I agree,” Reo leans back in the booth. “Kaiser’s a lot of things, but a loving husband is a bit much.”
“She’s a goddess. He’s literally already betrothed to her.” Oliver takes another swig. “Y’all ain’t gonna marry a goddess if she was given to you? Damn, put me in his place, I’ll do it right now.”
~
Kaiser trains, every morning, from sunrise to noon.
You only know because most of the rooms in the palace outlook to a self-contained field. You see him, often, because of this, even if he doesn’t speak to you. As you walk down the corridor, in your classes with Isagi about the current climate of the nations.
“It is useless for me to learn this,” you tell him. “In a few short millennia, the border of the nations will undoubtedly change. And we will have to relearn it all again. What is the use? Why war at all over something so insignificant? Just have a conversation about it.”
Isagi makes a pointed, bored expression at you for this, and then pretends like you didn’t say anything at all.
At the end of class today, you press your elbows to the open windowsill.
Kaiser is there, sparring with Ness. Ness is quick, agile, fleet-footed and runs circles around Kaiser so much so that it almost makes it difficult to keep up.
Kaiser approaches him at bone-breaking momentum, launches strike after hardened strike. He’s shirtless, bandages wrapped around the bottom of his torso, and his body is streaked with sweat. He’s strong, clearly. Broad shoulders clear now from when they were hidden under layers of clothing the first time you met him, the muscles in his arms flexing and relaxing with each step of the friendly duel, hair dipped in saltwater blue.
You know what he looks like, now. You get a sense why Fate brings you here.
He looks like a hero.
The kind that Gods covet, watch from their merry clouds. It’s no wonder that he’s burdened by a prophetic trial, with a face as cutting as his sword, his hair framing his face and flowing.
He takes one look to the side of him and his eyes find yours immediately. It must be some sort of fighter’s sense, you think. For him to have done it so easily.
You give him the space you think he might be asking for. You turn away.
~
He approaches you one night, just before sunset. Karasu had just finished an etiquette lesson with you, setting away forks and knives. Whatever he sees on Kaiser’s face makes him move quicker. He nods once to Kaiser, and then hastily leaves.
“You’ve been making yourself quite at home here, demigod.” Kaiser traces the lace outline of the tablemat, every ridge under his calloused finger.
“I vowed myself to your kingdom to the end of your life. I’m simply doing what is asked of me.”
“And you’re all ready for the banquet, I’m guessing?” The sentence is almost mocking as he approaches you.
“It’s just a ball, is it not? I’ve been told I’m just to stand there and make pleasantries.”
Kaiser chuckles, more bared teeth than sweet. “It is, arguably, the worst part of being so-called royalty.”
“You’re taking this much better than I thought you would.”
"To say no to a goddess' proposal would be the greatest blasphemy, no?"
"From what I've seen, you have not minded sacrilege much at all."
“Marriage means little to me. Disillusioned, perhaps, with the prophecy.” He waves his hand like he speaks of something meaningless. But you see it clearly. Before he had even allowed himself the thought of love, it was taken from him. “Your power is great, your presence ensures the continuation of myself as an heir and successor. Even I can reason with that.”
He's right in front of you now, so close you can feel his body warmth.
“Does it bother me?” He shrugs. “Sure. As far as I’m aware, you are no wife of mine. But a protector of this nation? For that, you are an indispensable ally.”
He looks out the window, towards a coming sunset. Something indescribable on his face, like grief and guilt all in one. He takes a deep breath in and out, inhaling the peace and exhaling the heaviness of his heart, before facing you again. “A war is coming. No one believes me, but I can feel it, as steady as a river’s current. Until then, I’ll make my peace with you.”
You nod. “So be it, your highness.”
That has him stepping back, more incredulous than you’ve ever seen him, body tensed and frowning. Maybe he should’ve expected it, given the way he’s just dismissed you. “Your highness? You hadn’t questioned my lineage before, but now you dare to do so?”
You stare at him blankly. “You are a prince, are you not? Isagi says that’s what princes are called.”
One side of his mouth upturns in relief, and he bursts out a bright laugh. “Is that what they teach you in those lessons Isagi gives? Oh,” a hand runs through the front of his hair, “I thought my own wife-to-be would dare insult me.”
You scoff. “I have no need for that.”
“The title ‘your highness’ doesn’t apply to this nation because strength is valued most. I am heir to the throne not because of the blood running through my veins, but because Noa deemed I the strongest — not just in body but in mind, not just in physical strength but in adaptability.” He says it proudly, like fact, like a knowing so deep within him that it turns pride into faith. “A title like that is something used by the Itoshi brothers, let’s say,” he comments airily. “Their throne is carried by a bloodline.”
He turns on his heel, only looking back when he realizes you don’t follow.
“You don’t know how to dance yet, do you?”
You lean your hip against the table. “I can dance.”
“Come, then. If you’re to be my wife, it’ll be an embarrassment if you don’t at least act like it.”
You follow him to a ballroom – a stunning, wide area with a looping chandelier, curtains that weigh down in arches over each floor-to-ceiling window.
He swoops you from your distraction with a hand around your waist, and the physical contact shocks you so greatly that orbs of water swirl in your hands.
Kaiser only raises an eyebrow at you. “This is a dance, not a duel. Or do the gods do it differently?”
For a man who was so passive to you, he holds you so close that your chest to chest, you can feel each breath he takes against you. When he steps with you, his movements are slow and deliberate, never inefficient. He moves not with fluidity, but with each sure step. Pulls you forward, then pushes you back. Circles you, spins you around.
It’s exactly like when you see him train. Like steps to a kata.
“I thought you said this was not a duel.”
“These are steps to a classic waltz, demigod.”
“You have no fluidity to you.”
Kaiser scoffs. “Should I apologize? With the prophetic curse hanging above me, I haven’t taken a dancing class.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“Hm?”
“The prophecy. It doesn’t have to be a curse.”
He stops, separating himself from you, scowling.
“This session is over.”
“Kaiser-,”
“What?” He snaps. “You, of divine nature. You want to tell me how to view my prophecy?”
“I do not say this out of pity, or out of some sort of higher knowing.” You say it with conviction. “As heir to the throne, a throne that is currently being held by Fate itself, maybe I shouldn’t be saying this at all.”
“And yet?”
“To know your fate is to be able to defy it.” And maybe it’s just an effect of your divinity, but it rings like a bell, like truth itself. “Your prophecy may have made a wound, but you are the one who cuts it open. You are a man who wields a sword that cannot, should not be able to be wielded by anyone but the divine. Does that not say something? About you, about your capabilities?”
“And yet you took it from me.”
The silence that follows is thick with indecision. Kaiser lets the uncomfortableness sit, rejects every heartwarmed statement you make with a roll of his shoulders, like water off a smoothened rock, replaced with only his anger. “I trained for weeks before I could lift that sword out of the riverbank. Yet it is yours, now, simply because you are supposedly its rightful owner.”
Conflict runs through your face so clearly, he wonders that even if you could lie, whether it would mean anything at all. He watches as your hand reaches into a conjured puddle of water that floats in the air, and out comes the divine sword.
You hold it in your hand with an ease that he has spent months capturing. It strikes envy in him like a branded sear.
“My role here is technically to secure the sword. I have no need to wield it.” You hold it at the bottom of its handle, directing the top of it to him. “If you swear you won’t lose her, I can set a compromise of sorts.”
“You think I’d agree to a compromise?”
You open up your palm, and a bracelet appears. “This will help you keep the sword in a pocket dimension we can both access. If you’re willing to place it there to secure it when you’re not using it, I’ll return her to you until the end of your line.”
Huh. A safe-keeping place is a more neutral proposition than he had thought you’d come up with. To have her back kills the fight in him, and he accepts begrudgingly, testing the magic in his hands until it becomes natural.
“For the record, Kaiser, I have not always been worthy of it.”
Something about the way his name slips off your lips has him keening. “Worthy?”
“I stayed true to my course. I was given a title. And then I could wield the sword, presented to me by my queen.”
“Your queen. Heir to the throne.” He laughs bitterly, knowingly. “You’re a princess.”
“Despite your mocking tone, I’ll have you know that title of mine is of the highest regard. I don’t take it nearly as lightly as you do with yours.”
“That’s why you didn’t bow or kneel. You take what’s meant to be yours without a second thought. Not because you’re unknowing, or because of some godly pride, but because you have never been lesser.” He flicks a finger between your eyebrows. “What a spoiled thing you are. Can you even fight?”
Something in Kaiser takes pride in the way you frown more deeply, it’s almost like a pout. It’s almost…
“Well, I definitely wasn’t sitting idly in the war between Gods.”
“I’ve never seen you train.”
“That’s because you’re always on the training grounds.”
“Oh? You won’t show me?”
“I’m giving you space. I’m no wife of yours, no?” There’s a sting to it when you say it, having his words thrown back at him.
“Duel with me. Tomorrow.” He spins you, lets you out of his hold before bringing you back in.
~
He begins to meet you, day after day. A duel first, and then a dance. The dichotomy would be distasteful to any other, but you of divine blood do not even flinch at his request.
He may be displeased to have you, but his mouth cracked as wide and wicked as a cat’s at the prospect of a fight.
“Go on, then.” He takes a blunt, wooden sword, throwing it in your direction. “Or do you only fight with magic?” He teases.
You swing the sword, rotating your wrist with ease. “Do you forget yourself, prince? I am half divine, you will surely lose. Are you sure you want to go through with this anyways?”
His mouth widens, more teeth than smile. “Bring it.”
You know, the moment you defend against his first strike, that a singular hit from him on the battlefield must be deadly. He is surefooted, his whole weight bears down in every move. He doesn’t let you breathe once, much faster than you would’ve thought with someone of his size and height.
Kaiser was almost right about one thing, that the divine adds to your magic more than your physical strength. With enough training, in just simple hand-to-hand combat… He might have the potential to beat you.
But not today. Today, you have him pinned to the ground, makeshift blade to his throat.
“You’re awfully close,” he gasps out slyly. And it’s in this moment that you notice, too, how right he is about that, how you can feel his heartbeat underneath yours, his chest against yours with each exhale.
“What?” He grins wide, “afraid you’ll miss?”
By all the Gods, you want to knock the living daylights out of him. He notices your anger in that hesitation, your conflict between doing what is right and what you want, and flips you over, swapping your positions until his hips are pressed against yours.
Something about your shell-shocked face makes him stir.
“First rule of fighting, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair before planting it next to your head, leaning into you close. “Never get distracted by your opponent.”
He’s closer than he was before, admiring the way you look under him, your hair splayed along the ground and the sweet fire of irritation in your eyes. Is the heaving of your chest from your anger towards him, or from something else entirely?
“When Gods fight, there is not nearly as much prattling.” You grit at him. He smells like the grass of the field and the winter air and the heavy musk of sweat, and when you shove him off, it feels like your hand meets the hard rock of an unruly ocean.
~
It is during dances that he speaks to you. Not at first, but slowly, like a river that streams into the ocean. You tell him tales about the Gods, about your friends, about wars and petty arguments. And he starts to answer you, more often than not, with every question you might have.
“I have wondered about something.”
“Hm?”
“The sheathing. It prevents even me from detecting the sword’s divinity.”
“Huh, so Nagi really wasn’t lying.”
“Nagi, who is always with Reo?”
Kaiser nods. “They say Nagi was once sought upon by a god for his talents, a god who was constantly sending him dreams. But he grew tired of it, so he found a material that prevents even the gods from finding him so he can sleep in peace.”
The conversation often leads to the prophecy, a bitterness like licorice on his tongue. Even if he skates around the topic, you don’t let him hide from it, cutting straight to the heart of the truth.
“You can live in the cold bitterness you’ve put yourself in, Kaiser,” you tell him, one of these nights. “Or you can live, and maybe even possibly die, warmed by a life you truly felt was worth living. Your own choices. Not because of a prophecy, or because of Noa, or even in spite of me.”
But despite it, he doesn’t move away. Because it is the only time he has you to himself. He sees you, always, with Isagi and Oliver and Karasu and Chigiri. How you have molded into their lives with simplicity, sit with them at meals and have easy conversation despite knowing nothing, in a way that he has never once allowed himself to enjoy. What does it say about Kaiser? That he can't stand your presence but he can't stand your absence even more? That he would rather have a biting argument with you than leave you to your own devices?
It's during duel and dance that he comes as close as he can to touching you. If he did anymore, it would become something he doesn't have the heart to name without unease settling in his gut.
~
On the day of the banquet, Chigiri sits you down in your vanity, braiding your hair back in his hands.
“The queen of the Gods, her lover, a friend of mine… He used to do this for me too.”
Chigiri silently appreciates that you don’t ask him why it is him that helps you with this. That divinity doesn’t hold the same notions this world does.
“He would-,” you laugh softly to yourself. You’re stunning like this, Chigiri can’t help but notice. A goddess, most casual as can be. “He would say that I was useless at it, actually. You two might’ve been good friends.”
“Me? Friends with a god?” Chigiri finishes the braid, tilting your head in his hands to admire the way the braid crowns around each side.
“Of the Fae, actually. A beautiful man he is. You would fit right in.”
That stops Chigiri, has him taking a sharp intake of breath, smiling at you through the vanity’s reflection. “Thank you, princess. Though you would do good to be more careful during this banquet to compliment anyone.”
You smile softly back. “Ah, yes, my betrothed who will not love me might get jealous. Gods are not so different than people, in this regard.”
“Is that so…”
~
It’s when you meet the Itoshi brothers at the banquet that you begin to understand why Isagi gave you all these lessons.
Where Kaiser is muscle and sword first, more fighter than prince, Sae and Rin are the opposite. They have a grace befitting of royalty. Instead of heavy footfalls that you can hear even in the blanket of snow, they are light-footed, conscious of it in the echoed ballroom.
Though you suspect, from the way Sae grips Kaiser’s forearm as they shake hands, from the way Kaiser regards Sae, that he is somehow just as strong of a fighter. That royalty is an illusion Sae and Rin put on, for peace’s sake.
Something indescribable flits over Sae’s face as you curtsy in front of him, but it’s gone in a moment, replaced with his nonchalance.
“The betrothed of the banquet. We are most pleased to make your acquaintance.” Sae bows his head to you, and Rin follows in his stead.
You smile, something beaming and sweet. “The pleasure is all mine.”
“Would you mind, Kaiser?” Sae’s eyes only leave yours for a glance, to check in at Kaiser’s now furrowed look. “I’d like to take your wife-to-be for a dance.”
Kaiser’s back straightens, a hardened gaze with gritted teeth. But he says nothing. You swear Sae almost grins.
“I’ll return her back to you.” He says it like a favor, and Kaiser is only held back by Karasu’s hand on his shoulder.
“It’s just one dance, Kai,” Kaiser looks at Karasu, then to you, and then back to Sae. He barely nods once.
“Are you sure?” You ask him.
He scowls. “What do I have to be worried about?”
Well, it’s not like you want to anger him further. You let Sae take your hand, leading you to the floor.
“I almost didn't think you were who you said you were, when I saw you,” Sae tells you, breaking the quiet of the dance.
You lean back so you can see his whole face, your confusion clear. “Your highness?”
“When I had heard of you, they told me that waves flowed off your dress like water itself holds you sacred. Yet here you are, as regular as can be.”
Sae twirls you away from him, then brings you back into his arms. “They say you shook the earth with a single step. Where is all that power you were said to hold?” He holds you close, watching your every reaction with his crystal gaze. “This place. They’ve placated you, tamed you.”
He brings his mouth to your ear, the body warmth of his entire chest seeping into yours. “If you were mine, I would never force you into a box you didn’t belong. I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of Kaiser, even with his god-killing sword.” He spins you again, capturing your waist. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t be afraid to demonstrate your power to the world.”
“Sae.” He looks at you in a way that feels meaningful. You don’t know the pleasantries of this nation or his in-depth, but you know, somehow, that this feels like this is something you should shield from.
“Oh? No honorifics already? We’re that intimate, are we?”
To fight is one thing, but this is something entirely different. Being able to hurt others with a play instead of a sword, you’re not sure if you can shield others from something like that.
As the song ends, Sae takes your hand, brings it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “Consider my proposition, princess. Before your marriage solidifies, and becomes something you can’t escape from.”
With his hand on the small of your waist, he brings you back to Kaiser dutifully. Kaiser links his arm with yours immediately, before any of you can spare a goodbye.
“What did he say to you?”
You hum. You get the sense that maybe…
“Nothing of importance,” you tell him instead.
“Hm?” He tilts your chin up to meet you eye to eye. “Is my own betrothed keeping secrets from me?”
“He said I don’t seem all that powerful.”
That makes Kaiser smile, not something sweet but with teeth bared, like a wolf. “He hasn’t seen you in action.” He pulls you in, hand wrapping to the back of your neck, a slow and deep whisper. “Do you want to show them?”
“Weren’t we both told that’s inappropriate? Isagi said the optics could make your allies scared.”
Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Isagi this, optics that. Our country has always been about the brawl and brave. Let the nations fear us, then. I, with my cruelty and a god-killing sword. You, a sorceress second to none. It’s a pretty picture, is it not?”
He straps his sword to his back and brings you to the middle of the room, and as the guests of honor, the crowd gives you both a wide berth. He circles you, just like you practiced. Makes you center stage.
“Go on then, princess.” He lets go of your hand and bows, sweeping his arm out. “Show us who you really are.”
“Kaiser,” you whisper. “We have very clear orders-”
“I make the orders, not follow them. So make your choice, princess. Wasn’t it you who said that it is worth living a life warmed by your own choices? Tell me, then. Do you want to show them? Or do you want to play nice?”
This play, to have ego and pride dive head-first into a situation, is so very human. And yet-
You let water overcast your body from your waist, let it roll off in layers like waves into the floor. Anyone who has had experience with magic can see your ultimate control over it, how the floor isn’t wet at all, how the water was conjured from nothing. Your hair is silken with dampness, framing your face like gloss. Gasps and awes from the audience makes Kaiser grin even wider.
“There we go.” Kaiser reaches behind him to unsheath his blade, and the galaxy within swirls. He spins it in his hand, and it’s almost like he’s never been happier.
In seconds, he strikes at you. Your hands move up instinctively, blocking the blade with a stream of water. The sound it makes, divinity against divinity, is like a low bell. The floor beneath you shakes with the strength of the strike, water dispersing around your feet in cascades to cushion the impact. You hear screams of shock, a glass breaking.
“Kaiser,” you grit, but all he does is widen that wicked, quicksilver grin.
And then he laughs, stepping away and sheathing the blade back. He holds one hand out to you instead.
“Next time, I want a duel in front of everyone. But this time, I guess a dance will suffice.”
You exhale gratefully, taking his hand in yours and retracting your water. “Let us dance, then.”
And with none of a prince’s grace, with movements that feel more fight than dance, he drifts along the floor with you.
~
Isagi collapses into the booth, a palm pressed to his eyebrows. “Our allies thought they were about to fight each other.”
“Can I cash in on my bet now?” Karasu rolls a skewer stick between his fingers. “Because they might’ve almost killed each other.”
“Nah,” Oliver leans back. “I think that’s just foreplay.”
Isagi opens his eyes to find Chigiri and Bachira standing before the booth. Chigiri’s not meeting his eyes, his mouth perching to one side in a way that squishes one of his cheeks.
“What happened?”
“They’re gone.”
“Ha?”
“We had one drink. One.”
Oliver has the audacity to laugh, hand over his mouth. “Don’t worry, Isagi,” he pats him on the back. “I’m sure they’re just fucking around.”
In another corner of the hall, royals speak in low tones.
“We can just take her if you like her,” Shidou tells Sae with the sweetest smile a man like that can muster. “No need to ask poor little Kai-Kai.”
Sae says nothing, eyeing you quietly as you step out of the hall.
~
You are sitting at the edge of the ocean, letting the slate-crested waves wash over you, when he finds you.
“You can dry me in a moment’s notice if I am to sit with you, right?” He says it almost reluctantly, even though he’s here anyways. He’s dropped his off coat somewhere along the way, and there’s something so naked about seeing him in just a shirt. He almost seems softer, without the harsh lines of battle-ready clothing or the fur that drapes around him, relaxed in a way he wasn’t in the banquet hall.
You smile. “I can keep you dry whilst you're sitting.”
He relents, then. Allowing the strangeness of sitting on wet sand without getting wet.
“Was the banquet up to your expectations, then, Kaiser?”
Expectations. He’s had none of a party like this. Being allowed to dream is a privilege, and privileges were not granted to him.
“You are officially my wife-to-be,” he says instead. “Shouldn’t you call me something a little more intimate?”
You gaze out into the horizon for a moment, and something in your eyes unfocuses, like you’ve gone somewhere else and then returned. “Very well. I shall call you Mihya.”
It strikes a chord in him, like a teaspoon hitting a glass. “Mihya? Where did that come from?”
“The water.”
“She speaks to you?”
“She says in another life, you are given a nickname like that.”
“Another life…” He lies down in the sand, watches the streaks of sunset in the blueing sky.
“Ask then, Mihya,” you lean over him slightly, until all he can see is the sky and the way your features soften. “The question we both know is on your mind.”
He almost wants to reach out, hold your cheek in his hand. It’s a foreign feeling to him, so foreign it almost feels like unease – to want to extend a gentleness like that to another person. “Won’t you just tell me?”
You breathe in the sea-salt air, and breathe out a heart-warmed truth. “The prophecy does not hold you captive in another life.”
Kaiser, for once, lets himself dream. Of a different life, where he is unburdened by a prophecy, and burns brightly.
~
“It would seem strange if you weren’t together, with all the other guests in the palace.” That’s what Oliver tells you as he gestures for you to take his arm, leading you to Kaiser’s room.
It’s both plainer and more furnished than you thought, like someone who isn’t him had chosen the furniture and the color of the walls. But the items in the bookshelves seem well-loved, items taken out and put back haphazardly, scrolls and books placed back half-way. The bathroom door opens with a flood of light.
“You’re here.” It’s rare to shock Kaiser in a way that doesn’t make him immediately reach for his sword.
You turn to look at him, taking in his half-dressed state. “Were you expecting some other woman?”
“Oh, so you’re the jealous type?”
He almost wants to laugh at the clear discomfort on your face. Gods don’t tease, he’s guessing?
The bed gives way to you as you take your place. “I hear it’s common for princes to take many lovers.”
The moonlight spills over the bedsheets as the room darkens, and you summon the sword to float right above you, looking into it. He joins you, wanting to see exactly what you’re seeing.
“It’s not a night sky.” Your voice is so soft in the blanket of night between you both.
“Hm?”
“Inside the sword. Your people say it looks like the night sky. It’s not. It’s a galaxy.”
He reaches his hand out, tracing over the glass along the middle of the weapon, a silent remark for you to continue.
“At the beginning of all worlds, the first-ever contract was made between the first-ever forces, and with it, this sword was said to be conjured out of the galaxy. And so, a part of the galaxy at the beginning of all worlds was contained in this sword.”
The stars in the sword move within like they’re responding to your words, borne witness to all the events. But instead of watching them, you turn to him.
“You have held and wielded a primordial piece of this world. It has allowed you to hold it, granted you its blessing.”
Blessed. That is not a phrase Kaiser would have ever used to describe himself. But coming from you, he can almost believe it. Almost hope to have a little more than he’s ever had.
The sword disappears with a movement of his hand, and he rolls to lean over you. Silence drops like a curtain. The only sound he knows is your breath and his.
During a fight, his feelings can almost be mistaken for adrenaline. But even under the shadow of the moon, with the cushioned silence between you both, the way you cut straight to the truth rings like a silver bell.
He can’t hide from you. Or maybe. Maybe he’s tired of hiding at all.
He is a man who has only known war and battle, was born and bred into it. War-forged, is what they call men like him. His hands know weapons, know how to kill.
He does not know if they know how to love. And yet-
He cups your face, and drinks you in.
He kisses you with caution, like you might melt from his grasp if he held too tightly. Presses his lips against yours slowly. He runs his hand gently over your hairline as he parts from you.
Is this okay? He wants to ask. But instead, he says: “Tell me what you want.”
You wrap your arms around his neck, your lips brushing against yours when you answer: “You.”
And then he kisses you like a man starved, never known by this feeling that gets caught up in his throat with every noise of yours he swallows.
“Is this… is this what you want?” You try to ask as you part from him for air, but he presses his mouth to the space behind your ear instead, laying kisses down your neck. “Is this a decision that you are making for yourself, by your own hands? That is entirely for you?”
That makes him stop. But when he looks at you with a surefire gaze…
He knows it, undoubtedly. That this, for once, is his.
“There are no lovers,” he tells you between kisses, to your shoulder, down your collarbone, to your breastbone.
“What?”
“I take no lovers.” He unclasps your bra, lets the material fall from his hands to cup your supple flesh. “I’ve never been princely, after all.”
“You- Kai-”
He runs his thumbs across both your nipples, admires how they perk up at his administrations, flitting his gaze between them and your face as he brings his mouth down over one of them.
He presses kisses down your body, cups your heat in his hand like he’s begging you to respond, like he’s saying let me have this. The inside of your thighs is soft as cream under his calloused hands. His thumb moves along the outside of your underwear, from your slit up to your clit with his fingers pressing tentatively against the fabric until you’re grabbing at his wrist.
“You’re so tense,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Want me to take care of that for you?” He runs the knuckles of his hand over your clothed slit, bumping into your clit with his thumb until your breathing gets heavy, your hands gripping his shoulders.
“Kaiser,” you breathe, and he clicks his tongue.
“That’s not what you call me, baby. Not anymore.”
“Mihya.”
“Mm,” he slides his fingers into your panties from the side, a huff of breath leaves him at the wetness he finds. “Good girls get rewarded, you know?”
Heat coils hot deep in your stomach. He can’t take the restriction, pulling your panties down and revealing your core to the cold air. He lets his slickness pool on his fingers, collects it before bringing it to your clit. It’s like a drug, watching the way your face gives way to pleasure, how your body arches into him.
“Mihya,” you gasp again, like a chant, a prayer. Is this what the gods feel like, to be asked of?
“Let me watch,” he says it like a demand but it aches with desperation, a thing he won’t admit outside these four walls. He presses with more confidence now, slides one finger into you, then two. There’s little resistance with the way he’s riled you up, long fingers pressing into you until he reaches something that has you making a broken moan so pretty he can’t help but tilt into it again.
“I want to see it,” he tells you. This is something he makes happen to you, with his own hands, his own words, his own body that shares its heat with yours. That notion alone runs arousal straight through him. Your panting breath, the way your body shakes with each swipe against your clit.
“I want to see you fall apart in my arms.” He whispers, and you respond in kind. You always do to him, don’t you? He’s been seen too surely by you, now it’s his turn. Your body tenses entirely, tightly, gripping him as he grants you reprieve. A soft whine leaves your mouth along with something like his name, and the rough pad of his thumb circles over your clit until you crash, coming around his fingers.
He swipes a thumb over your cheek, allows himself the gentleness that he’s held back for so long with you.
“One more, okay?”
Your eyes widen. “Mihya,” this time it’s like a warning, but the way you say his name is so breathy it has him pressing a hand over his pants.
“Yeah, say my name just like that.” He shuffles down until his mouth is pressing to your stomach, just above your mound. Then again to the inside of your knee, trailing up until the inside of your thigh, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there.
“You’re-, wait, we just- I just”
“Mm, and you’re gonna give me one more.” He kisses your clit first, like a promise, and then he laps at your core generously, from the bottom of your slit all the way to your clit, his flat tongue against the whole of you. Every drop of slick from your previous orgasm is taken in by him with each moan he makes against your core. If he had known this feeling was going to enter his life, that it would’ve felt like this, maybe he would’ve readied himself better for it. Instead, he finds himself starving at the table where it’s served. The taste of you on his tongue wraps him in a heady pleasure, but it’s every sound he takes out of you that has him pressing a little more insistently, tongue laving over you.
“Pl-please,” your words break between gasps, and it has him lapping into your clit with more pressure.
“I can never say no to you, can I?” he mumbles between your legs. And then he’s flipping you over, hoisting you onto your knees and skimming his hands over your rear and thighs before diving in again. Your face is pressed into the pillow, hands grabbing the sheets. Kaiser almost seems dazed as he moans into your cunt, swollen and wet like a siren’s call, hands wrapped so tightly around your plush thighs that it feels like it might bruise.
“Let me taste,” he mutters, mouth still lodged into your cunt, like that isn’t what he’s already doing. “Come on baby, give it to me. Let me taste it on my tongue.”
Your hole clenches and flutters around nothing as another orgasm rocks through you, your breath coming short as you break apart on his tongue with a whine.
He flips you over again, and the look on his face takes your breath away. Your slick shimmers on his mouth as he trails his tongue over his lips, like he’s addicted, like he can’t get enough. He tilts his head with a grin so cocky that if you weren’t so blissed out you might just punch him.
“There something you want, pretty?” He leans over you, hand to the bedpost, and how broad and tall he is becomes that much more obvious. You let yourself look, at the way his tattoo drapes over his arm, run your hands over the muscle of his torso down to his v-line. You hear a sharp intake of breath as your hand moves lower, running under his loose sleep pants to the base of his cock.
He grabs your hand in his, bringing it over your head and circling both your wrists. “Ask.”
“You-,” your eyes narrow and you huff at him, but it only makes him smile. “Won’t you just-”
“Nuh-uh.”
“I could cut you down here.”
He drops his pants, pumping his cock once and then sliding it along your slit. “You could. And then who’ll give you what you want?”
You want to roll your eyes, but then he has one hand tapping against your clit, the other gripping either side of your cheeks.
“You begged so pretty for me earlier when I had my mouth on you,” he rasps. “What happened to that?”
The harsh look you give him under those fluttering lashes of yours makes something stir in his gut, arousal shot through his veins, pupils wide. He plays with you, warm hands against your skin and between your legs, the soft skin of his cock sliding between your thighs until you’re gasping in his hold again, grinning like a battle won.
“Please, Mihya,” you sigh.
“Mhmm. Please what?”
“Please- please fuck me.”
He gets off on it, watching you yield to him, spreading your legs, dripping your hot slick onto his cock. He presses the head against you, petaled folds opening up to receive him as he slides into you slowly. Just the first few inches is so thick inside of you that your hands wrap around the muscles of his arms, nails digging in.
“Shh, baby, you can take it,” he hushes your little whines, tracing your hairline with such gentleness it contradicts the way he pulls out of you just slightly only to push in again.
“You’re- oh,” your body gives into him, even more so when he brings his hand down to tap on your clit, his mouth over your neck, to the side of your mouth, until he’s kissing you and taking in every noise you make. It’s almost a distraction, helps your body to relax so he can press into you deeper. You think you feel every inch as it enters you, all the way until the hilt, until the head is pressing deep inside of you and his hips meet yours.
He lets out a rough, deep moan against the expanse of your neck, breath coming short as your walls tighten around him.
“Fuck, baby. You gotta let me move.” Your arms wrap around him tighter, a whimper falling from your lips as he tilts his hips up to plunge into you again. It’s hard and slow and deep and if it wasn’t for his grip on you, you might’ve hit the headboard. But he’s careful about it – more than you might’ve thought he’d be. Pressing your body into the bed as his hips meet yours again and again.
“It feels so good,” you tell him, and it has him pressing a kiss to your cheek in return. Makes every moan you make that much sweeter, to know it’s out of your pleasure, to know it’s because of him.
“Good girl. Tell me again.”
“Feels- you’re so big, so- please, I need-” Your walls can barely clench down onto him with how he feels inside of you. Chest to chest with him, the contact of skin on skin-
“You drive me insane,” he grumbles it into your skin; a confession, exacerbated with each thrust of his hips as he picks up the speed, until he’s slamming into you with a kind of strength that has you seeing constellations behind your eyes. He wants you- needs you to feel the way he feels. Needs to have you lying in his bed, thinking only of him and how he makes you feel. Heat pools in your core until you’re arching your back, and he knows it now – knows it like the back of his hand.
“Give it to me.” It’s a command, a need, if you listen closely enough. “Come around my cock. Show me.”
“Mihya, it’s so much, it’s so so much.” It’s treacherous, the way it works through your body, being on the brink.
His thumb is slick over your clit, pressing just a little more, until your thighs are tightening under his unrelenting body. “Come for me.”
You chant his name until the words start to become nothing in your mouth, until you’re breathless, until your whole body tenses under him and his hold against you gets that much rougher and your walls clamp down and then your body shakes as you come. You almost scream, only silenced by his lips on yours. He comes quickly after that, his eyes never leaving yours, taking in how you look underneath him as his cock gets more sensitive and paints the inside of your walls. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow until he feels your body start to relax under his.
You can barely process coming down as he’s kissing you again, deeply and with force, like he’s etching the memory of you into his mind and onto your lips.
For once, he lets himself recognize – how tiring the emptiness has been, to be devoid of this feeling and instead be filled with the fear that it’ll be turned against him. For once, he lets himself feel – to have something that is wholly his. to know and be known. To give and know you will receive. Not an offering at an altar but a hand in his, not a prayer but a soft word spoken in return. Kaiser does not want something as untouching as approval or attention from the divine. But he does want your waist in his arms, your forehead against his.
“Just like this,” he whispers it, a kiss placed to your forehead. You don’t know what he means, too tired to ask.
This is exactly what he’s always wanted. Just like this.
~
Not unlike a parent, Noa notices the closeness of your relationship. In touch, in stolen glances, in longing. A private conversation with him over afternoon tea is not unique, but the heaviness that weighs on him is.
“As the goddess who cannot lie, I have to ask you.” The hardened look on his face makes you straighten your back, putting down your teacup. “You know, that I have to ask.”
Silence sits between you both like a shoe about to drop.
Noa yields. “Has he truly been forsaken by all the gods?”
You are strangely silent as you look at him, then away, then back.
“Answer me, demigod.”
“I don’t know.”
“What?”
“I. Don’t. Know. I have told you before, that I am not a seer, or an oracle. Water holds memory. I can see the past, I can even see other lives parallel to ours, but I cannot see the future. This is the limit of my power.”
“You are of divine nature.”
“I had said what I said at our first meeting, and that has not changed. As long as I am here, the Gods have not forsaken him. For I have not forsaken him. Is that not enough? How many Gods would travel to your realm, vow themselves to a human kingdom? Even if it is I alone that stands before you, is that not enough?”
Noa sighs, more exasperated than you’ve ever seen a serious man like him. “He deserves more, that boy. For what he has been put through.”
“All greatness comes with a price. All heroes face tragedy. He, no matter how much you may care for him, is not the exception to that.” You tilt your head, like a cat with curiosity. But unlike that sweetness, your words are cutting. “You made him a ruler. You made him a hero. So, stand by that. Or does it make you uncomfortable? To consider the role you, too, have played in his life?”
Noa, of course, has thought about this too. Had he not chosen Kaiser to rule, would he have had the prophecy weighing on him like a second shadow?
“If the prophecy holds true, you will inevitably leave him.” Noa swallows, hand flat against the table. “He will inevitably be forsaken, even by you.”
“Then why,” you ask, genuinely, “did you ask me to stay?”
~
In the weeks that follow, you learn exactly why. Like Kaiser had predicted, talk of battle comes.
“We suspect a neighboring nation wishes to wage war with us.” Noa looks out to the slate-blue ocean from the window of the war room.
“A man who wants control of this whole world,” Karasu huffs. “There’s never a lack of them, is there?”
“He thinks himself a god. Or that’s what Sae has told us.”
“You’re sure Sae’s information checks out?”
“Shidou and Otoya like to visit neighboring nations for uh… fun, let’s say,” Chigiri rolls his eyes, then plants his face in his hands. “He said something along the lines of “you don’t wanna know how they found out” and “Shidou sleeps with both men and women, so it’s been cross-checked too.””
“And then we asked him about war,” Isagi throws his notes down on the table. “He said, and I quote, ‘I already have more land than I know what to do with. What could another few acres give me? What a hassle.’”
“The enemy are bold to come for us first.” Kaiser frowns considerably. They are possibly the one nation blasphemous enough that would not blink at the thought of fighting a god. “There’s something we’re not seeing.”
Isagi nods in agreement. “We still don’t know the reason they’re coming here first. It could be the sword, or the goddess.” Isagi frowns. “I told you not to make a scene at the banquet.”
Kaiser gives him a curious look with a smile he fails to hide. “The point of a banquet is to wow the people. The people were wowed, were they not?”
“It could be, it could not be,” Noa kills the conflict there. “That information would have been made public regardless of the spectacle. It could even simply be the throne itself they seek. An army like ours could parade into the neighboring nations and lay waste, our people are used to much harsher weathers.”
“Or maybe he means to make a statement,” Karasu shrugs. “If he wants to be a god, maybe he means to punish the disrespect we’ve shown.”
“What do we actually know?” Chigiri taps the map of this nation splayed across the table.
“We know he wants to take control of this world, and we know his plan includes something from us.”
“He knows once he controls the world, he has to take care of it, right?” Oliver rests his jaw in his hand. “As in, it’s not just about buying the house, it’s about cleaning it too. The plan – it has to be bigger than this, no?”
“Won’t happen once we kill him here. So as far as we know, there are three things we have that he could want: the sword, the goddess, the army.” Chigiri holds up his fingers as he counts.
“So we’ll meet him with all three at the front lines. Fear does not wield us, after all. Only strength.” Kaiser says it like a mantra. You suspect it might be exactly that.
~
“What a pleasant surprise to see you again so soon, princess.”
As an ally, Sae arrived on the day of battle without question. He is much different from the first time you saw him, chainmail armor wraps tight and sleek around his body, clearly of a weight underneath his clothing. He stands straighter, shoulders broader, badges clipped to his outer jacket. It’s clear to anyone who looks at him, that it’s almost like he was born into them – meant for them.
“You’re both on the front lines then?”
“Idle hands,” Kaiser starts.
“Devil’s workshop.” You finish. You hear a horse galloping, then a voice.
“There’s something wrong.” The people give a wide berth as Oliver arrives, with a sleek black mare that’s obedient as can be. “The majority of the enemies’ troops are not in front of us.”
All of you turn to look, but it’s on the front lines that makes it most difficult to tell where the crowd begins and ends.
“I did a rough head count from the tower. This isn’t the count we had observed just the other day. They’ll die easily, like this, against us. And I don’t mean that from an egotistical standpoint. I think these men are here to die, meant to die. It serves to mean –”
“This is a distraction.”
Karasu appears at your side, with an utmost silence only he is capable of. “They’re headed for the main castle, from around the edge of the border.”
You and Kaiser look to each other with a whole silent conversation, and Sae sighs.
“Go on, then.”
You turn to Sae immediately, with a seriousness he doesn’t expect. “You’ll be unprotected.”
“We chopped liver to you, girl?” Shidou sneers.
Oliver drops down from his horse. “I’ll take over here.”
“Your care for me is truly touching, princess,” Sae’s voice lilts touchingly, almost revealing how much he likes it. “But you swore a vow to this kingdom, so go fulfill it.”
Even in the middle of a war, it gets Kaiser all worked up, his chin jutting as you both run back to the palace. But Sae understands duty, stands by it. It’s what makes him worthy of his own title in his own kingdom.
Oliver waits until you’re both out of sight before turning to Sae. “Did you really plan to steal her?”
“Well,” Sae shrugs. “Did you plan on letting her go so easily?”
~
Your water runs in cascading waves through the whole of the palace, like the ocean itself comes rushing through the walls. It knocks all the soldiers down as you and Kaiser run through, and he picks up any stragglers with ease.
“The throne room?” Kaiser slams the hilt of his sword into the guy behind him, and he collapses instantly.
“It is the safest room.”
“That makes no sense. If you knew anything about our people, you’d know we never hide ourselves there in a battle.”
“Go anyways,” you tell him, as another man gets thrown off his feet. “Go, Kaiser!”
He takes one final look at you, at the strength that you hold in your hands, and then he runs.
The man he finds sitting on the throne has black hair cut blunt to his chin, a white mask over one side of his face. Kaiser unsheathes his sword, pointed straight and true.
“That throne doesn’t belong to you.”
“It will. Along with that sword you’re holding.”
Kaiser chuckles, the kind that has madness interlaced in it. “If you wanted the sword so bad, you could’ve asked for a one-on-one combat duel. I haven’t had a satisfying fight in a long time, I’d be happy to lay the sword as a winning prize.”
What must be the man’s most elite fighters drop down from the ceiling, crowding in on all sides.
“Ah, I see,” Kaiser stands straighter, reaching behind him to unsheath his second sword. “It is your capabilities that do not match mine.”
When they come for him, it’s clear to even the heavens that he is exactly as he is fated – a force to be reckoned with. He moves like a spider-spun silken web, capturing each of them blow by blow. His swords cut like butter through them with impressive speed and strength. His breath comes fast and hard when he finishes, sweat dripping down his back.
“I see now, prince,” the man approaches him, and it’s closer up that he realizes he’s simply in a suit, no armor. “Why they praise you, despite your blasphemy. You, a prince famous for cursing divinity at a whim’s notice, are a powerful ally. Kneel before me, then, and I’ll cease this all – let you join our cause in a war against the gods, in stealing their divinity from them. I’ll even forgive this transgression of bedding one.”
“Me? Kneel?” The canned laugh that Kaiser lets out echoes. “I kneel to no god, let alone a man who wants to become one.”
“So be it, then.”
Kaiser hears something above him. By the gods, what’s with this guy and ceilings? Is that why he wants to fight here? A dust of something shimmers down, he pulls his cloak over himself-
From the doorway, you throw your water across the room, shielding Kaiser from whatever it may have been. And in the same moment, a poof of shimmer bursts over your own head and tumbles down around you.
“That’s the problem with you gods, isn’t it? You always think you’re infallible.”
You cough, falling to one of your knees. Dread fills inside of you, like a faucet you can’t turn off. You can’t move. How is that possible?
The man taps two fingers to the top of your head, and your world goes dark.
~
When you blink your eyes open, the first thing you’re aware of is the way your vision swims. Your mind feels clouded, stuffed with cotton. You press your palm to your head, and even that feels muted.
“I’ve made her mine now. She’ll do exactly what I say. Does that make you upset?” Is what you think you hear, through the ringing of your ears. “Let’s see you put that god-killing sword to good use then, shall we?”
“It’s. Magic.” You spit out the words as your hands press into the ground. Your legs cramp from the way you’re forcing them to stay down. “Mihya. Run, please.”
“Awh, worried about me?” Kaiser teases as he logs the odds. There is no water that swirls around you, so it begs to reason – you can’t call it. The only weapon you have is a dagger.
Kaiser tilts his head until his neck cracks. “Have some faith in me, princess. I’m not afraid, even against you.”
He breathes, in and out, until the calmness of battle seeps into him, raises his sword pointed right at you. “I’ll win, even against you.”
And then he reveals that cocky, surefire smirk. “You should worry more about not dying yourself.”
When you launch at him, it is without mercy, makes him realize how your kindness seeps into the way you fight. His weapon is bigger, larger, and he uses it to keep you at arm’s length, to wrap around towards the enemy. But he sees his problem almost immediately. Like a puppet on strings, you’re protecting the enemy.
He knows it, the moment the prophecy solidifies into place in his mind. That feeling of being lost on a path, gone with the reigning down a light. The final puzzle piece in the picture.
You will die by the hands of the one you love most. So, it truly was this feeling, after all. Love. An aching thing, something so undoing. An open wound that can only be tendered by you.
For once, the prophecy is not a curse but a guiding starlight. He corners you with strike after strike, until you’re as close as can be to the enemy. And then he approaches you with no defense, lets you strike at him. In the same breath, his sword lands behind you and takes off the enemy’s head.
None of the fight felt as clear as this moment, when your blade presses into his heart.
He collapses, right in front of the throne with you on top of him. The throne that should be undoubtedly his, belonging to him as heir. Tears fall from your face before your mind can clear. Like you know, soul to soul, as his lifeform slips through your fingers. He brings his hand to cup your cheek, as he had wanted to do when you laid like this above him in the sand.
“I did not expect a death so gentle for myself.”
His smile is so bittersweet that it aches all the way to the bottom of your heart. His hand slips down from your face as you finally come to.
“You will not die on me.” You gasp out, a statement said with so much conviction that the silver bell of truth rings in return. You call to your water immediately, a stream so fast it cuts into your skin but you don’t care.
A magic that can only be done once. You take the divine sword from the ground, aim the blade carefully at yourself – your own soul. Only this sword can make a cut like this, with the hand of the divine. You slice your wrist, and instead of blood, pure golden lifeforce pours out.
You separate your divinity from yourself, and you feed it to him. It will not turn him divine. You are only half-divine yourself, after all. What you can give is not nearly enough to turn a man into a God. But it will hold his soul in this world, let you do an unspeakable magic: an exchange of divine power for life, a process long enough for the water to heal his heart back together again. The hand you lay against his mouth shakes more and more with each second that your golden blood pours into him, but your other hand lays steady as ever over his heart, until you feel it beat once, twice. Hear him spurt out a breath.
You collapse on top of him before you can see him open his eyes.
~
“I see the prophecy has been completed.”
When Kaiser wakes, there’s a split second where he thinks he might’ve just ended up wherever souls go at the end of their line. There’s what must be a full-fledged goddess standing right over him. It’s only your warm body splayed across his chest that tells him otherwise. His hands are lightning quick, sitting up and moving to your neck to check your pulse, only exhaling and relaxing once he feels it.
Golden threads extend down the sleeves of the goddess’ arms. He’s seen the paintings. Fate itself stands before him.
“How could you do this?” He makes his disdain clear, lacking any respect one might give to the queen of the gods herself.
“I am sorry.” She answers immediately, and that makes Kaiser’s eyes widen just slightly. “Your grievances, you may relay them to me, if you wish. There is a bigger picture at play here, bigger than you or the water sorceress or even myself. The threads of fate are not woven selfishly.”
“You gods up in your clouds play with the lives of mortals. That has always been written in history. But to her? To one of your own?”
“She is more one of mine than most. The heir to the throne of the Gods, I would’ve entrusted her with my life. It’s why she complies with Fate in every life, without complaint.”
“So she lends you her loyalty, and you take advantage of her. And you dare put yourselves above us?”
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Heavy too, are my hands, that weave the golden threads. You and her are one of many that have suffered by my hand. For that, there is no apology I can give. What I can give, well… Would you like to hear your full prophecy, prince?”
Lone Emperor who covets the throne,
You will die by the hands of the one you love most.
Forsaken by all the Gods but one,
Re-emerge, awaken, as the ruler you are meant to become.
In any other circumstance, he would be eager as ever to finally hear the full prophecy. But his eyes are only on you, your slumbering state as he holds you in his arms.
“What will become of her?” He asks quietly.
“She will be a water sorceress, as she had initially been.”
“She will die, then? Like a human does?”
“All things die, hero.” Hero. That’s what he is now, having been trial-passed. The title burns like bourbon down his throat. “Even the divine dies. But yes, she will die as a human, and be reborn again as the cycle permits.”
“A life of such simplicity is not befitting of a woman like her.”
“Who says it would be simple? Besides, she has gone through the trial of the divine once before. Don’t you have faith she could do it again?”
The trial of the divine. He had not known such a thing prior to you. But if anyone could pass it, it would be you.
“I will make her my wife. I care little for the words or respect of the gods, even a queen like yourself. But it is my duty to inform you. If she will have me, I will wed her as has been planned.”
“The prophecy is complete. What happens now is too inconsequential for me to put effort into. However…” she watches you, teartracks streaked down your cheeks. “I’m quite fond of her. I hope for her an easy life.”
In a blink, her form disappears.
“Kaiser!” Oliver’s voice echoes through the halls, taking big leaps with Noa to his side, skidding to a halt when he finally finds you both.
“The goddess-”
“She lives,” Kaiser cups your head into his chest. “Though she is goddess no more. A trade. Not a fair one by any means.” His thumb traces across your cheek, a state of his so vulnerable it renders Oliver speechless.
Noa approaches the threshold where Oliver does not dare. He rests his hand on the crown of Kaiser’s head. “Another chance at life is the greatest gift, and she has granted you as such. That is a debt you’ll never be able to repay her for..”
“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying, then.”
~
It’s only in the aftermath, that you find out how deep in you truly were.
Kaiser takes a big inhale of the winter air. It’s fresh and cold. And with him, the nation breathed a breath anew, and the trial laid in ashes under his feet.
You’re facing the horizon of the sea when he finds you.
In the catch of the light, sometimes he swears he sees the divinity that had shimmered off of you before. It’s almost hard to believe, with the ring of water that floats around you, that it had ever left you at all.
“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, as it always is with you now.
“Relearning the water.”
“What does it say?”
“That I am still its mistress. Still a sorceress,” the water around you drops into the wet sand. “That its loyalty with me is not dependent on divinity.”
He places a hand to the back of your neck, easing out the tensions there. “But?”
You smile weakly. “I have to strain to hear her now.”
“Guess we can’t do that spectacle again for our wedding.” He cracks a smile, something to ease the ache. “Water holds memory, right?”
“That, it does.”
He grabs your hand, pulling you up and towards the waves. You yell for him, but the ocean crashes loudly around you both, and he drags you into the water anyways. Once you’re deep in enough that the waves drape over your knees, he pulls you in close.
“Let her bear witness, then.” He whispers it against your lips, brushing your hair away from your face. He kisses you, deep and with so much heart you might burst from it.
A prophecy unfolded, a fate changed, a life saved.
There’s a part of you that can feel an oncoming future. A sheathing that can block even the eyes of Gods. God-killing weapons that have descended from the heavens themselves. A potion that can cause madness in the minds of the divine. A war between mortals and Gods is coming, you’re sure of it.
But not in this life. In this life, you are a water sorceress, and he is a trial-passed hero. And like in every life, you find your way back to each other, every time.
author's note: ohmygod THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE tell me what you think!!! this is my longest fic ever so i really hope you enjoyed
Kinnie bingo with my fav 6’1 german soccer player with major issues that cannot be fixed in just one day that suffers internally with his self and the people around him (so me)
plot: why kaiser was at your door the night between christmas eve and christmas day? why did he have a red package, even though you had broken up last month?
It was cold, very cold. Berlin had been covered in snow since the beginning of November, and things had gotten worse during the Christmas week, when the snow had also caused some damage due to the excessive amount. You loved the snow, so going to work with the white weather around you wasn't a sin, and above all it didn't bother you because you always covered yourself well with a heavy coat and an excessive amount of scarves; but now, with only your pajamas on, you were cold. You didn't know if you were colder because of the temperature or because of seeing Kaiser after a whole month, maybe the second one, but who knows
It was a while past midnight, at least half an hour; your friends had just left your house, after you had celebrated Christmas Eve all together, opened the presents and toasted. You were cleaning the living room when you heard the doorbell, and thinking you would find some of your friends who had forgotten something you went to the door calmly, completely confused instead of finding your ex, Kaiser Micheal
"...What the fuck are you doing here?"
Last month you broke up after a relationship that lasted three years, three years so intense that you couldn't even describe them if you had to: you met thanks to one of his teammates, one night in a bar after the team's victory, and two weeks later you were together as an actual couple. Maybe you had run, maybe not, but at the time it didn't take long for you to understand that you could work together, and so you decided to give yourself a chance. Less than six months later you were living in his house, keeping him company and most of all loving him. With Michael it had never been all roses and flowers, you argued like normal couples, but somehow you always came back to look for the other, like a magne. You went to his games, you cheered for him, and he cheered for you for your goals. You balanced each other out, and many of your friends joked that you were going to get married soon because only one could stand the other with a wedding in between
You actually thought so too, and probably he did too. But last month you had broken up, and even now you couldn't understand how he had the courage to tell you that he didn't love you anymore, if until a few hours before he was resting in your arms. And so, from that day on, you didn't want to know anything about him anymore, going back to live in your old apartment
But what the fuck was he doing here now? And why did he have a little box in his hand?. Thinking about this, you realized that it was his birthday, since it had already struck midnight; but wishing him a happy birthday? No, absolutely not, partly out of resentment and partly because you knew he didn't like celebrating his birthday
"I had to talk to you, or rather give you something. I saw your friends' cars and knocking suddenly while you were busy seemed a bit of a jerk... I waited out here for a few hours. And above all, I didn't feel like talking to you with them in front"
It was cold, damn cold, and you knew he didn't like the cold because of his past, where he had often been forced to sleep freezing as a child. But for you, had he waited? With this cold?
"Talk? Wasn't that enough the last time we talked?"
More than talking, the last time you did nothing but yell at each other. He said so many bad things to you, and you didn't even hold back
"No, it's not enough for me. I have to talk to you and give you something"
"I don't want anything from you, and you also said the last time that you wouldn't give me anything anymore because I don't deserve it, right?"
"Don't bring that moment back now"
"And why shouldn't I?"
The wound was still open, and you knew it would be for a long time. You couldn't lie and say you didn't love him anymore, damn it, it was the opposite; you certainly don't stop loving someone from one day to the next after three years of being together. You also knew that, somewhere in his heart, Michael probably felt the same, but that didn't justify him leaving you. You were angry, disappointed above all and sad
"Y/n, please, let me talk. You know I never talk in vain in serious moments"
He had never done it in three years with you, his charisma stopped when it came to talking about serious situations, knowing that he couldn't always throw everything into irony. You wanted to hear him talk, to understand what the fuck he wanted at such a time and especially with such a situation in between, but would that have been beneficial for you? Could you have let him talk?
"Hurry up. I'm cold"
"I try to be as fast as possible, I swear. I don't think I can explain to you how much I hate me for what I did to you, leaving you wasn't on the list of things to do with you, in fact, I don't even know how I could have done such a stupid thing. I'm an idiot, I really am, I'm like my father who as soon as he had all the happiness in his hands he let it slip away... and you know, maybe you're the only one who really knows, how much I don't want to be like that pig. I made a mess because I'm not used to having someone who really loves me, and when I do stupid things that push this person away from me, because I don't think I deserve it. I know perfectly well that you're the only one who cares a little about me, and I also know perfectly well that you're the only one I really care about, that I love in a way that's maybe even a little obsessive. I would like to give you something that I was planning to give you for Christmas if we had stayed together, but something went wrong... but I want to give it to you anyway, and ask you to think of us, because now I have no more doubts, I haven't had them for 3 years now and above all I didn't have them when I bought this"
Maybe you needed these words from him, even if you hated to admit that he already had you tied to his finger. From the day of the breakup until now you had always wanted to see him apologize, and now that you had him in front of you it didn't seem true: Michael wasn't someone who admitted his mistakes, he preferred to miss a goal rather than do this, he also hated showing himself weak in front of the people he cared about. And now he was doing it, both of them, in front of you, just to explain the situation to you
But what did he actually want to give you?
"Micheal... god, this is unexpected. I thought I was going to have to move on"
"Don't start, or at least decide whether to do so after I've shown you what I have in my hand. Think about it, because I have no more doubts"
You look down, Michael clears his throat before getting down on one knee, he who always told others to get down on their knees for him. You hear a small sigh, before the little box opens to reveal a ring, glittering and gold
"Y/n, Schatz, I had no doubts about asking you something so important, because I've met people, but there's only one who understands me, and that's you. I have a shitty personality and yet it doesn't seem to push you away from me, and for that I should thank you every day. You know perfectly well how much I don't like my birthday, yet somehow since we've been together you've made me learn to appreciate it at least a little, and now I would like to appreciate it more if you accept, because it's a gift that only you can give me. I wanted to ask you this to take our relationship to the next level, but the way things went I find myself forced to ask you to give me another chance, this time for life. Y/n, will you marry me?"
You tremble, because you don't know what else to do after a proposal like that. You look at him, and in his gaze you read a sincerity that you have never seen before, which shows how serious he is. You remain like that for whole seconds, unable to tell him what, you know, he wants to hear
"Micheal, my god... yes, yes I do, yes!"
Before he can get up and hug you, you throw yourself onto the cold floor with him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you feel his arms wrap tightly around your back, pulling you closer to him. Small tears begin to form at the edge of your eyes as you hold him perhaps a little too tightly because of the emotion. You hear him chuckle, as he runs his hand up and down your back, not giving you the chance to pull away
"You're an idiot, you really are"
"I know, but now you will be able to tell me until our last days, Schatz"
Synopsis:
At your wedding, Rin is forced to face the feelings he’s long kept hidden from the start of your relationship with a man who wasn't him.
Oneshot | Word Count: 2414 | afab! Reader | Pure angst no comfort
The chatters of the guests blurred into an indistinct hum, grating his ears. The classical music, once a soothing melody, felt like mocking each note made his heart race. Even the chime of the bells felt like a countdown to the end of everything. Everything irritated him.
Weddings were supposed to be about love and new beginnings, but for him it marked his loss and regret. Bitterness clung to him like a second skin, suffocating and inescapable. He could still remember the moments where it was just you two— those fleeting, stolen seconds when he thought he’d always have time.
But time didn’t wait, he didn’t realise what you meant to him until you weren’t his to have. Until someone else saw your love and compassion, the laugh that felt like home, and claimed it while he was frozen, too proud, and too blind to act.
Now you were gonna stand in the altar with a man that wasn’t him.
His regret was piling up recalling the memories that he’d prioritize his goals and soccer over you. How you'd get upset but didn’t let him see it. He realised that it was probably because you thought you were hindering him from his success in achieving what he wanted.
His ears picked up your laughter. He stiffened as you adjusted his tie. The fabric wrapped between your soft and warm hands. His heart beat with every second of it. His eyes adjusted to your white dress, it fitted your complexion well. You always had a knack of finding things that compliment you well. That dress was the kind of thing you’d dream about.
“Rin, you look like a mess.” You playfully said, looping the tie around. “I want you to look good in the pictures— well, you’ll still look handsome even if you look like you haven’t slept for a week.” you teased him.
Rin’s lips turned into a line, he felt a gravel in his throat. “I’ve been busy,” his voice came through, almost distant.
He looked down at you, watching your fingers tie the knot. Did you even realise what you were doing to him?
“You shouldn’t worry how I look,” he added, still frowning, showing his indifference, “it’s not my wedding, after all.”
“Yeah, because you keep pushing women or even men away from you. You’re handsome, a star captain in the japan soccer team, you have money, you have decent— well sometimes decent personality sometimes.” You jabbed at him a bit.
Rin scoffed,“Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?” he shot back, his tone sharper than intended.
His gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. “Maybe I just don’t see the point,” he muttered, barely loud enough for you to hear. “None of that matters if it’s not with the right person.”
“Then find them, if you really want to find the right person then don’t just be frozen in place, run and go.” You advised, finally done with his tie. You firmly straightened the fabric.
“What if I already found them?” His eyes showed vulnerability, itching for her to notice him. Wanting and longing for her to change her mind and be with him instead.
“Then what are you waiting for?” You encouraged him. Those words alone made him want to say he loved you right there.
But, he didn’t. Rin messed up a lot of things in his life. His blunt self made it harder to say what, how he felt— but it always came out wrong and not what he intended.
Rin’s heart skipped a beat at your words, the space between you suddenly feeling too small. He opened his mouth, the words almost there, but they choked in his throat. His gaze flickered away, as if afraid of what might slip out if he spoke.
“I... I don’t know if I can,” he muttered, his voice low and raw. “saying it now... it just feels too late.”
He caught your eyes for a split second, vulnerability in his own flickering like a dying flame. He wanted to say the words—he wanted to tell you how much he felt, how much he needed you—but the weight of all his failures kept him frozen
Some of the guests could be heard at the other side of the door. The awkwardness between them is heavy in the air. You pulled your hands back away from him. You weren’t sure how to break the silence between you two.
Rin’s gaze momentarily looks at the door, where the groom was laughing with others. He could feel his jaw tightened subconsciously. Everytime he even saw your fiance, he’d always have this scowl look.
You cleared your throat. Seeing the opening for a conversation, you took it, eyes lingering on Rin for a moment. “So… what do you think of him?”
Your voice was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of something else— an unspoken question hanging in the air.
.
Rin opened his mouth to answer but hesitated, his mind scrambling for the right words. What did he think of him? He couldn’t bring himself to admit it, even to himself.
All he could come up with was that he hated him—hated him for taking you away from him. Why did it take him so long to realize?
Soccer had always been his life—he’d worked for it, sacrificed for it. But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore. You were the one who mattered most. He had realized it too late, and now the realization gnawed at him, sharp and bitter.
“He’s... alright,” he finally said, his voice sounding distant even to his own ears. It was a weak, vague answer—one that concealed the raw truth.
“I’m surprised you didn’t fight him when I said he and I were dating, honestly. I was kind of scared for him because of how much you send death glares with every man that even flirted with me.” You say with an awkward chuckle. Recalling the memories of how Rin would act so fast.
Rin’s eyes narrowed at the countless memories, and a brief moment his face hardened. “They deserved it,” he said with indifference— but not aimed towards you, to them.
—
The music changed, signalling the bride's arrival. Rin’s gaze shifted involuntarily towards the aisle, his heart pounding with every note that played. Everything seemed to slow down around him, each step echoing louder than the last as you moved closer.
Everyone was at awe by your beauty, he didn’t blame them. He was enamoured by your movements— how you looked.
Rin’s thoughts raced, the weight of everything he couldn’t say settling heavily on his shoulders. As the soft murmur of the guests filled the air. He couldn’t shake the image of you standing besides him— if only things turned out differently.
The room was alive with quiet excitement, the glow of candlelight reflecting off the polished surfaces. Laughter drifted through the air, but all Rin could hear was the steady beat of his own heart—faster now, as if it too understood the finality of what was about to happen.
A soft chime echoed through the room, and the guests fell silent, their eyes turning toward the aisle. Rin’s breath hitched in his throat, unable to tear his gaze away from where you would soon stand, arm-in-arm with him—the man you’d chosen.
The two of you said your vows, said “I do” to the question, and made the first kiss of your marriage. His body felt cold like he was trapped in the pile of snow and it was numb. It felt like someone struck a poison into him. He hated this feeling, he experienced it before when Sae said those words that left a chokehold on him for years.
He needed a drink to wash all the pain away.
—
The venue you rented was beautiful but he was too busy swallowing in his misery to even enjoy the wedding reception. He sat down in the stool ordering a heavy drink.
You were married now, it was too late for him to do anything. He can only watch on the sidelines with you living your life with another man. The bartender then handed him the glass of alcohol.
He drank it to his heart's content. The alcohol was bitter— reflecting his own emotions back at him. Alcohol was distasteful and unhealthy, he doesn’t usually drink but he’ll make an exception for just this night, to not think.
“Really want to get into the mood, huh?” your husband talked to him. Rin was already in a bad mood, your husband made it even worse.
“I guess,” Rin said with indifference, he sipped on the drink more.
“You should be hanging out with the others instead of being here all alone, she’d want you to have fun!” The words stung more than the groom probably realized.
Did he think Rin could just ‘have fun’ when everything felt wrong? He could barely keep his thoughts straight, let alone smile for the sake of others
Rin gripped his glass harder, the cold surface pressing into his palm. He could feel his vision start to blur, the alcohol doing its work. But it didn’t numb the anger. It only made it sharper.
He could feel his jaw clench, his heart rate quicken. The groom didn’t know anything. He didn’t know the weight of this situation. And every word he said made Rin’s patience thin.
Then your husband notices Rin’s reactions. He knew what was up, and that he saw how Rin would look at you, how he’d loosen up when he was with you, and now he was miserable at the wedding.
“Hey, it’s tough, I get it,” the groom says. “But you’re a great guy, Rin. You’ve got so much going for you. Don’t beat yourself up. There’s always the future, right? Maybe even someone else out there for you too.”
The more your husband said, the worse it got for Rin. It wasn’t that the groom was wrong—he was just too far removed from what Rin was feeling.
It wasn’t about finding someone else or “moving on”—it was about the one person Rin couldn’t have anymore. The one person who was slipping further away with every passing second because of him.
His grip on the glass tightened, his knuckles turning white. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, bitterness seeping through his voice. “You think this is just some passing thing, that I’ll ‘get over with it’. You don’t know what it feels like you’ve lost everything…. Especially when you never got the chance to tell her how you even felt. So don’t just fucking sit there and tell me that everything is okay,” with every breath, he could smell the alcohol.
“I… I didn’t mean to upset you,” the groom said, a bit taken aback. “I’m just trying to help, man. You’re a good guy, Rin. You’ll be alright.”
“Can you shut it? You think you’re the one who gets to take her away, don’t you? You think you’re the perfect guy for her, but you don’t even see it. You’re just the safe option, the ‘right choice’ on paper. All you’ve done is show up with your polished image and your nice words, pretending like you’re everything she needs—
I’m not perfect, I never was. I screwed up, I pushed her away when I should’ve held on. But I’m the one who understands her. I know what makes her laugh when she’s sad. You’re just a lukewarm piece of trash that she pitied.” He let out all his anger. All his frustrations. With each word uttered it felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders but grew more distant with his stabled mind.
“Rin,” he felt his wrist being grabbed by soft hands. His eyes looked up to see you standing there with a mix of frustration and disappointment. He was being dragged to an empty room.
He knew what was about to come, you were gonna give him a lesson, scolding him like you used to do whenever he did shit like this.
"I get it, Rin. You’re hurt. I know you care about me, but this... this isn’t how you handle it. I won’t let you disrespect him and my choice. I won’t stand for it, not after everything we’ve been through.” You touched his shoulder gently.
“You made a shitty choice.” Rin said coldly. You could smell the alcohol in his breath, too far gone to think clearly right now.
“Rin, I am proud of my decision— I love him, he never pushes me away, he never makes me feel like I’m an idiot, he never makes me feel like I was his second priority. I don’t know why you don’t want this for me, can’t you see for once… that I’m happy?”
Rin’s eyes widened, his face twisting in anger, pain, and something else— something raw and almost desperate. “And you’re saying that you found someone who can see your feelings, prioritize and love you. Then what was I? Who the hell was I to you?!”
You stepped back, your chest tightening with a mix of guilt and sorrow. “A person I love,” you said, your voice almost a whisper now. “But who taught me that love isn’t always enough.”
You couldn’t stand it anymore, everything was too overwhelming for you. Rin was too hurt— you couldn’t look him in the eyes without feeling guilty. Feeling like shit, you turned around and left the room, hoping the silence would ease your thoughts.
As you left the room, it was just him with his thoughts. His gaze lingering on the doorway where you just left. His hands grip on his suit, wrinkling it, his knuckles turned white. “What was I?” the question echoed in his mind, a haunting refrain. The words that he spat out were wrong now.
His chest tightened for a moment, the alcohol buried in his veins, dulling the clarity he had left, but only left every once of guilt that he had. How could he let it get this far? He was too damn proud… to be caught up in his own world to notice you needed more than he was giving.
Now, there you were—standing with someone else, someone who could make you happy, someone who wasn’t him.
Rin clenched his fists and took a deep breath, but it didn’t help. Nothing could. He had missed his chance.
pacing, i love itt!! There really are those kinds of people like Rin hm? While it is tragic for him, no girl should ever feel guilty for a guy that’s selfish enough to not be happy with their ex finding true happiness (which didnt came from them). Reader is right, its not just love, happiness should come with every relationship.
Hi! Here for the More than a married couple (but not lovers) event. That's such a GREAT IDEA!! So sweet😭💖
The character I chose is Michael 🍓🍦
Also kudos to you for starting another event even though you're still writing asks! you're really spoiling us💕
i really enjoyed doing the last event, tysm!!
A Michael Kaiser Strawberry Sundae...
જ⁀♡⊹｡° every version of yourself
♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)
♡ content — michael kaiser x gn! reader, gn! reader, set in a high school so no funny buisness, supposed to be kinda unrequited love?, kaiser's own insecurities, takes you through the length of the simulation, kaiser still plays soccer, kaiser in HS if he wasn't traumatized :))), still cocky though, an little flirty, nickname like 'spouse' used, popular! kaiser, quiet! shy! reader
♡ synopsis — being paired with michael kaiser may be the worst thing to ever happen to you...or so you think
The classroom buzzed with anticipation as the names were called out. Each pair announced felt like a small shockwave in the room, but the real chaos came when your name was read.
“And finally... Michael Kaiser and Y/N.”
The gasps, whispers, and sharp glares that followed made you shrink in your seat. Everyone’s eyes darted between you and the blonde at the back of the room, who leaned lazily against his chair, unfazed.
Kaiser didn’t even look your way. Typical. Why would he? Michael Kaiser wasn’t just a soccer prodigy; he was the center of attention everywhere he went. The school’s golden boy. The one every girl wanted to be paired with. And somehow... you, the average nobody, ended up in the simulation with him.
“Well,” Kaiser said finally, standing and giving a theatrical stretch. He smirked as if this was all a game, his piercing blue eyes sweeping over the room like he’d already won something. “Guess I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”
Your cheeks burned as laughter rippled through the room. His tone was light, teasing, but it only made the pit in your stomach grow. How were you supposed to survive an entire month living with Michael Kaiser?
The simulation began with a flurry of paperwork and rules. You were handed a key to a mock apartment and a thick packet outlining tasks you’d need to complete as a "couple" to pass. Cooking meals together, managing a budget, planning dates—it all felt bizarre. But the strangest part? Being tied to Michael Kaiser for every waking moment.
The apartment itself was small but cozy. Two bedrooms flanked a shared living space, and the kitchenette barely fit two people at a time. You stood awkwardly by the door as Kaiser strolled in like he owned the place. He dropped his duffel bag on the couch and turned to you with that signature smirk.
“Well, spouse, welcome home,” he drawled, tossing his duffel onto the larger bedroom’s bed without hesitation. “Don’t worry, I won’t invade your room. You’ll have all the space you need to miss me.”
Your brow furrowed. “Pretty confident about claiming the bigger room.”
He shrugged with a grin. “Call it a perk of being me.”
Typical Kaiser. You rolled your eyes but didn’t push it further. How were you supposed to survive an entire month living with someone so… larger than life?
The first week was… manageable, mostly because Kaiser didn’t seem to take the simulation seriously. He’d breeze through tasks with minimal effort, brushing off your attempts at cooperation.
“Budgeting? Just write whatever, I don’t care,” he’d said with a shrug one afternoon.
“Kaiser, we lose points if we don’t do it properly,” you insisted, tapping the form with your pen.
He rolled his eyes but leaned over anyway, closer than necessary, close enough to where his musky cologne made it hard to think. He hummed as he glanced at the page. “Fine. Put down ‘caviar’ and ‘gold-encrusted steak.’ That’ll impress the evaluators.”
You glared at him, but he just laughed. It was infuriating, how easy everything seemed to him.
Still, there were glimpses of something more.
Like the time you cooked dinner together. It was one of the mandatory tasks, and Kaiser insisted on doing as little as possible—until you nearly sliced your hand while chopping vegetables.
“Careful!” He grabbed your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle. For a moment, his usual bravado disappeared, replaced by something softer.
You were shocked, but not by his sudden loudness or his worry. No, you were shocked by watching the point value on your living room wall go up.
Oh so being a decent person and taking care of someone got you points? How silly...kind of.
“I’m fine,” you mumbled, pulling away.
“Yeah, well, try not to bleed all over the food. I’m not eating anything with extra seasoning,” he teased, smirking as he handed you a safer task.
And just like that, the moment was gone.
By the second week, you started to notice cracks in his perfect façade.
It happened late one night when you couldn’t sleep. You wandered into the living room to grab some water, only to find Kaiser sitting by the window, staring out at the city lights. His usual confident posture was gone, replaced by something almost… scared, like a child that's been missing their mother just a little too long.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” you asked hesitantly.
What were you doing? Yes, this project required interacting with each other, but you could have ignored him.
What was it about Michael Kaiser that made you act so...unlike yourself?
He didn’t answer right away, his profile illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlamps. Finally, he spoke. “Do you ever feel like people only see what they want to see?”
You blinked. “What do you mean?”
He glanced at you then, his blue eyes unreadable. “Forget it. Go back to bed.”
But you couldn’t forget it. The question lingered, and for the first time, you wondered if Michael Kaiser—the golden boy everyone adored—might be lonelier than he let on.
Things began to shift in the third week.
It was subtle at first. The way Kaiser’s teasing softened, the way he started helping more with the tasks instead of leaving everything to you. He even started calling you by your name instead of “spouse” or other mocking nicknames.
And then there were the moments where he’d look at you—not with the cocky smirk he wore like armor, but with something quieter, almost vulnerable.
You didn’t know what to make of it. You’d spent so long nursing your one-sided crush, convinced he’d never see you the way you saw him. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe you were imagining things.
But then came the final task: planning a “date night.”
You went all out, wanting to ace the simulation. You planned a picnic under the stars, complete with fairy lights and a playlist of soft, dreamy songs. Kaiser didn’t seem particularly invested at first, but when he saw the setup, his eyes lit up with genuine surprise.
“You did all this?” he asked, looking almost impressed.
You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but probably just looking like a dork who took this a little too seriously, “It’s for the grade.”
“Right,” he said, though his tone was softer than usual. And for a moment, Michael Kaiser looked truly upset by what you said...but why?
The night was quiet and peaceful, the two of you sitting side by side on the blanket. For once, Kaiser wasn’t filling the silence with jokes or teasing remarks. Instead, he turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
“You’re not what I expected,” he said suddenly.
You blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I thought this whole thing would be a waste of time,” he admitted. “But… you’re different. You’re real.”
Your heart skipped a beat. “Michael…”
He smirked then, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ll give me the wrong idea.”
But maybe, just maybe, the idea wasn’t so wrong after all.
The final week of the simulation was a blur of evaluations and last-minute tasks, but something had shifted irrevocably between you and Kaiser. He wasn’t just the golden boy anymore. He was Michael—arrogant, infuriating, but also thoughtful and surprisingly kind in his own way.
On the last night in the apartment, you found yourself standing in the kitchen, packing up your things. Kaiser leaned against the counter, watching you with an unreadable expression.
“So, this is it, huh?” he said, his voice unusually quiet as he stared into the almost empty cabinet, only filled with the stupid matching couples cups he got after an argument that lost you two points in the first week.
“Yeah,” you said, not trusting yourself to say more. What else could you say? 'Oh Michael, I love you and expect you to marry me!'
You'd rather die than be shot down like that.
He hesitated, then reached out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You know,” he said softly, “you’re kind of impossible to forget.”
Your breath hitched. “Michael—”
“Don’t,” he said, his smirk returning, though his eyes betrayed something deeper. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”
And just like that, he was gone.
Leaving those stupid cups behind.
Graduation loomed over you like a terrifying monster. It'd been a week since you'd spoken to Kaiser, both of you being too absorbed in your own lives. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been left unsaid. Until one day, days later, you found a note slipped into your locker. It was short, written in Kaiser’s unmistakable scrawl:
"I wasn’t joking when I said you were impossible to forget. Let me prove it. Dinner?"
Your heart raced as you read the words. Maybe, just maybe, the idea wasn’t so wrong after all.
this was the first one i wrote for this event so i hope this layout is okay!
this was such a fresh story idea that i never once even thought of, kudos to you!! I love un traumatized kaiser just as much as his canonical character, u captured him so well in this! I’d like to see more vulnerable kaiser moments like these in your writing.
⋆°• ☁︎ - Tattoo artist!Kaiser
Feat. Michael Kaiser
AN: I just love the idea of Tattoo artist Kaiser... so accept this as my brain rot (Also very heavily basing this off when I got my tattoo, and my tattoo, I'm sorry!!!) (Why did I actually kinda cook with this...)
The sound of machines whirring and the constant looking into the other area of the people getting tattooed made you question so much. Would it hurt? Well duh. Should you really be doing this? What would people think of you if you did? The thoughts started vanishing when you were finally called up to the front desk as they showed you the paper with the design on it. Normally the artist would do it, but since he was busy preparing and finishing up something else he wasn’t able to. But when you finally saw it, the drawing was stunning. It had taken inspiration from the piece of art you had found when scrolling the internet and made it that much better. The way the vines wrapped around, and the way the roses were a little bigger but still had an elegant look to them. It was even better than the picture. It was perfect. With a happy nod they took the paper back to the artist and told you he’d be done soon.
It was about 10 more minutes when the person he was just working on had paid and left, and all there was left was a few more minutes until you had actually seen the artist and he was able to permanently draw on you. Now that you were thinking about it, it kinda sounded weird. Letting a total stranger draw on you, and you have to keep that drawing forever? I mean you didn’t even know him, how was that supposed to work? Which brought you back to thinking about how you had even stumbled upon him.
The many pictures of tattoos had faded into your feeds, weather it was adds, or just scrolling on pintrest, instagram, and hell even tiktok! There was no escaping tattoo ideas. Well that was until you found this one page on instagram. Countless pictures had flooded your view all of them even more impressive then the last, weather it was flowers, humans, characters, even just little designs, they were flawless. Maybe it was just feeding into the idea more and more when you kept seeing more of his work pop up day after day. After the 2nd week of the art popping up you decided that maybe this was the universe telling you it was a good idea and you should just suck it up, and get that tattoo you’ve always been wanting. So you reached out to the artist via the email in the instagram bio, and within a few weeks there you were sitting in the tattoo parlor waiting for this man to call you back.
That was one of the only things however you didn’t see. Sitting in the waiting area of the tattoo place made you think about a lot of strange things. Maybe it was the nerve, maybe it was just because you were waiting for the pain to hit. But one thing you did know for sure, was you had never actually seen him before. All his posts online were about his tattoo works, weather it was on people, a screen, or on paper. He had never once actually posted what he looked like. You could only assume it was a guy due to his name, or at least the name on the email. Michael Kaiser. Pretty cool name if you did say so. But still, you were walking into this blind with a random dude you had never seen before. Luckily if you needed to run, there were other employee’s around…
After you had worried yourself down a rabbit hole a voice called out to you.
“(Name). Right? Kaiser.”
When you turned over your shoulder, being snapped out of your spiral there he was. The Michael Kaiser, that you now knew was a guy, standing there, holding the tattoo stencil in his hand.
“Oh uh yeah! Sorry.”
“No worries. Nervous?”
He started walking back and gave a little nod of his head signaling you to follow
“A little..”
The guy brought you back to one of the chairs, setting down the stencil on the desk next to him, a small grey table with a tattoo gun with grey wrapping around it, ink colors in little containers, and two cups, one with water and rubbing alcohol. Now that you were back there, everybody else getting something done seemed pretty chill, even if there was only 2 other people besides the artists. Nobody screaming, crying, or freaking out. I mean if nobody else was, why would you?
You got up in the chair as he sat down on the stool, looking down at the stencil, before giving a little smile. He turned around and placed it down on your ankle.
“That look good in terms of placement?”
He pointed back at a mirror and you went to check it out, seeing it was it a perfect spot you nodded on the way back, sitting back up in the chair as he started getting everything else ready. You looked away for a few minutes, seeing whatever was on the TV’s that you could perhaps look at when he was doing it so you wouldn’t feel weird staring directly at him as he worked.
“If you need a break, lemme know”
He gave a slight smirk when you turned back towards him
“Rough place for your first one.”
And then he started. At first it wasn’t to bad, a pinch here and there, but nothing you couldn’t handle, well that was until about an hour later he got to the back part of your ankle. You were grateful that you could burry you’re face into the chair at this point, because lord have mercy, did it hurt. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was a rough spot. Luckily during that you did get to have a break, heading over to pay before he finished it back up. Which was when you learned an interesting story. Apparently, due to the behind the counter people, he was actually supposed to take leave that day, and he had moved all his other appointments until you had emailed him asking about the blue rose tattoo, and that was when he had called back in saying he wasn’t actually taking leave anymore, and that they could move back appointments besides the one from when you were coming in.
That’s when you remembered, on his neck, he also had a blue rose tattoo, and you finally thought about how it was weird that he had made a story post a little bit after you emailed him saying that he was gonna be out, and then suddenly he was totally open for that same day.
When you finally got back mostly everybody else had clearned out and it was just you and him, plus the people still at the front. Even if the pain was almost unbearable at this point you tried your best to keep it together and not cry, or let out any sort of noise. You knew that he was probably gonna be done soon and you just had to hold on until then, easy, right? You’ve been doing it this long.
And right you were. It was only about 20 more minutes until he finished, wiping down the rest of the color that was smeared across your ankle, before wrapping it up in a sheet of cling-wrap and some tape.
“Take it off in the morning, wash it off, and you should be good to go. Make sure to moisturize it for a few weeks until the peeling goes away and that’s it.”
He handed you a piece of paper with the same instructions, and just as you were about to leave you spoke back up.
“Hey um.. I saw on your instagram you were supposed to be off today…”
He looked back over from his station where he was cleaning up and wiping stuff down.
“Yeah. Was supposed to get out of town for a trip with some of my friends, no big deal.”
“Then why didn’t you..?”
“Because I wanted to do that tattoo of yours. Didn’t wanna let somebody else have it. Not often you see people coming in here asking for a blue rose tattoo.”
He shrugged, throwing some of papers away, before sitting back down on the stool.
“Plus, not every day a pretty girl slips into your email asking for a tattoo, and who am I to stay no?”
He gave a small laugh and a smirk took over his face.
“Hey, how about instead of your email I get your number, and maybe next time we talk it will be scheduling a time for a date and not a tattoo. I mean I’m pretty sure it’s fate we met, we already have matching tattoos~.”
A smile over took your face as you exchanged numbers with him, and in turn he walked you out. Right as you were about to get back in your car and head home, he walked over and kissed your cheek.
“You did well for your first tattoo, maybe you’re next one you’ll have my initials~”
featuring 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿
ıllı. itoshi sae, michael kaiser, oliver aiku, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei
fluff + slight suggestive. calling your cop boyfriend while he's in the middle of work, and he thinks it's super important, only for you to ask him the most ridiculous and random questions.
characters aged up to 21 and above. rin and shidou are fathers.
ITOSHI SAE
The police radio crackled in the background as Sae was sitting in his squad car, a rare moment of calm during his patrol. His phone buzzed, and the screen lit up with your name. It was unusual for you to call during his shift, so naturally, his heart skipped a beat hoping nothing happened to you.
He immediately answered, his tone calm. Your boyfriend was concerned more than anything, and if something was wrong, God forbid what was going to happen to the person who dared to hurt you. “What is it? Are you okay?”
You, completely oblivious to his worries, immediately started talking cheerfully and giggling “Sae! Do you think dinosaurs should still exist? Wouldn’t it be awesome if they came back? Imagine us walking a T-Rex like a dog!”
Sae blinked, deadpan. There was a long, heavy silence on the other end. You could almost hear the gears grinding in his head as he tried to process what you just said.
“...Are you serious?” he finally asked, his voice dangerously calm. Oh, no. You're obsessed with dinosaurs again, and that wasn't good…at all.
“Of course I’m serious! Think about how cool it would be—like, riding a Triceratops to work or flying with a Pterodactyl!” you babbled on, completely oblivious to his growing annoyance.
You couldn't see but your boyfriend rolled his eyes as he rubbed his temple, leaning back in his seat. His sharp tongue couldn’t be contained any longer.
“You know they made Jurassic Park for that reason, right? And spoiler alert: it didn’t end well.”
“But that’s just a movie!” you argued. “We could make it work this time! Think of all the science we have now!”
“You called me—while I’m working—to ask about dinosaurs,” Sae interrupted, his tone flat. “Dinosaurs. You’re aware I have actual, real-life problems to deal with… Like thefts and, you know, crime?”
“...So is that a no on the dinosaur pets?” you teased, voice now full of sadness and disappointment.
He sighed, muttering under his breath in frustration but unable to help the small, begrudging smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re lucky I love you. Now hang up before I block your number.”
As the call ended, he shook his head, muttering to himself, “Dinosaurs. Unbelievable.” Still, the thought of you having fun with what you will call your "pet" lingered in his mind for the rest of his shift—and he hated how it made him go to the nearest store to buy you a dinosaur plushie.
MICHAEL KAISER
Kaiser was in the middle of gearing up for an undercover mission, his shirt tossed over the back of a chair as he adjusted the strap of his tactical vest. When his phone buzzed with your name on the screen, he hesitated for just a moment before answering. Worry flickered in his eyes—it wasn’t often you called during his work hours unless it was important.
"Mein Schatz, what’s wrong?" he asked immediately, his voice laced with concern.
You, however, had other plans. “My love, if I hypothetically steal something, would you be the one to handcuff me?”
There was a silence as an answer when he blinked, momentarily thrown off by the absurdity of the question. A smirk began to spread across his face as he leaned back in his chair, half-naked and amused. “Engel, you’ve already stolen something very valuable.”
Your eyes widened on the other end of the line. You stopped twirling your hair, your voice suddenly tinged with worry as though you'd accidentally committed grand theft without realizing it. “I… I did? What did I steal?”
Kaiser chuckled, the kind of low, teasing laugh that made your cheeks heat up even through the phone. “Yeah, you already stole my heart.”
Your indignant sputtering was music to his ears. He leaned forward, propping his elbow on the table and grinning like the cocky devil he was. “And didn’t we test those handcuffs enough already?" he added, his smirk growing. "Remember last night? You were so curious if they were strong enough to hold you—"
“Goodbye, baby! Good luck with your work!” you interrupted, your voice high-pitched and flustered.
Kaiser laughed out loud as you hung up, shaking his head in pure delight. Tucking his phone into his pocket, he muttered to himself, “You’re too cute, mein Liebling. Too cute.” With that, he pulled on his shirt, ready to finish work and show you what happens to those who steal and don't admit it.
OLIVER AIKU
Oliver Aiku, a tall, well-built figure with a teasing smirk and hundreds of charms, was leaning against the desk in the bustling precinct. Talking with his partner Sendou, they were deep in conversation about the latest case—nothing too serious, just the usual for the two of them.
The Captain’s voice echoed across the room, pulling him from the moment. "Aiku! You've got a call!"
Oliver rolled his eyes, not exactly thrilled to be disturbed right now in the middle of his break, but he stood up anyway, still chuckling at whatever Sendou had just said about the girl he was trying to woo over. He knew exactly who was calling. A sly smile crept across his face as he picked up the phone.
"Hey, babe. Everything okay?" he said in his usual teasing tone, his eyes never leaving Sendou’s curious gaze.
"Oliver! There's a giant spider on the wall!" Your voice came through the phone and you were more than afraid and before he could even process the words, there was a loud screech from your side of the line. "AH!"
He couldn’t help but smirk. "Girl problems, you know..." he muttered under his breath, shrugging it off, but Sendou was already looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "What? What’s going on?" his partner asked, clearly intrigued by the other’s business like always.
The tall man leaned back against the desk, casually placing the phone on his shoulder. "It’s my girlfriend, you know? She’s having a bit of a crisis over a spider or something. It's all good, no need to panic."
He could hear you, being out of breath, obviously running away from the spider. "Oliver! It’s huge! What do I do?!" He couldn't help but laugh. It wasn’t that he didn’t care—he did, but come on, it was just a spider, you have seen bigger things.
"Doll," he said in a smooth, teasing voice, his grin widening. "Calm down. It's just a tiny lil' spider. I’m sure it’s probably scared of you."
He heard you scream again in the background, and he could already picture you manically pacing around, maybe already booking a plane ticket. “Just grab a slipper or something, take it down like the badass I know you are."
"I’M NOT GOING NEAR IT!" you shouted back, your voice full of distress. Oliver snickered, turning to Sendou, who was still waiting for an answer. "Listen to that. She’s on a whole new level of dramatic. Gotta love her."
He leaned into the phone, his tone turning low and flirtatious. "But, don’t worry, baby, when I get home, I’ll take care of that spider... and you, too."
ITOSHI RIN
It was supposed to be a quiet, ordinary day for one of the top detectives in the department. His desk was a mess of paperwork, and he was deep in the grind—cross-referencing statements, signing reports, and filling out forms. He hated the tedious parts of the job, but he was used to it. Nothing could disturb his focus; nothing but—
Vibration.
He glanced at his phone. Your name flashed on the screen. His first instinct was to ignore it, but a nagging thought held him back. You never called during work unless something was wrong. Still, with a sigh, he answered.
“Is it normal for Mommy to have blood on her stomach? Is my little brother a monster?”
Rin froze. His first reaction was to feel a pang of panic. Blood? His mind raced as he pictured the worst possible scenarios. He knew that voice—your child was watching too many horror movies again, getting himself all worked up.
“Calm down, okay? Where’s your mother?” Rin asked, trying not to sound too angry or demanding with asking questions, he knew how the suspects got away.
“She was in the kitchen and now she has red all over her stomach…” the child explained, sounding more frantic with each passing second.
Rin’s heart skipped a beat as he stood up from his desk, knocking papers to the floor. This can’t be happening, you were in danger and your child sounded more than scared. He needed to be back home immediately. “Stay where you are, do not move,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. Turned to his boss, not waiting for a response. “I need to leave. Now.”
Without waiting for permission, he bolted out the door.
His pulse was racing as he sped home, each second dragging on longer than the last. His thoughts were consumed with worry for you and the baby, a fear deeper than any threat he faced in his career. When he burst through the door and rushed to the kitchen, his breath hitched. He saw you—sleeping on the counter, exhausted, a slight stain of red near your stomach. His eyes widened. Was she hurt?
But there was no blood. No danger. Just the remnants of a cake you had been baking, and the food coloring had created the illusion of blood. You’d passed out from exhaustion, nothing more. Your husband sighed in relief, but he heard a small voice behind him.
“Is Mommy alive?”
Rin turned to find your child, wide-eyed and still nervous. The detective gently shook you awake, his hand soft and careful to avoid disturbing the baby to pop out any minute. You blinked groggily, confusion was written all over your face, but then— “The cake!” you exclaimed, ignoring the love of your life entirely. Of course, your priorities had always been… unique.
"Yeah, the cake," he muttered under his breath, trying to keep a straight face as he helped you sit up, ready to take the blame for your child's next internet ban with the horror media.
SHIDOU RYUSEI
Blasting music in the police car, sirens wailing, Shidou Ryusei chased down some random robbers, caught them, and hauled them to the station. He was a man of contradictions—a protector of the law who lived for thrills. Sure, he’d had a rough past and even served time as a teen, but hey, life’s full of surprises. One thing was certain, though: not everyone could claim you as their wife, his beautiful partner who was currently calling him for the sixth time.
“Pick up the damn phon—” Your annoyed voice hit his ears as he answered. Meanwhile, he was busy munching on candy he’d swiped from the twins earlier. “What’s up, babe?”
“Shidou Ryusei, are you out of your mind?” Uh-oh, here it came. Normally, your calls were filled with anecdotes about your day, theories about the universe, or updates about the twins’ shenanigans. This, however, sounded serious.
“Hello, my beautiful, amazing, angelic wife~” he drawled, mouth still full. He could practically see your angry, adorable expression through the phone.
“I’ll show you what IS amazing... Are you crazy?!”
“Always. Why even ask?” he teased.
“Why did you took the kids from kindergarten, witht he police car while blasting Gangnam style?” Oh, that. Well, you asked him to pick them up since you were running late, “What’s the problem? Elaborate, doll,”
“The problem?” you huffed through the line, voice rising as he heard someone laughing in the background, probably your kids enjoying your reactions as much as your husband did—some genes are pretty strong. “You traumatized every kid at the kindergarten! The teacher called me, Ryusei! The teacher! She said she’s never seen a police escort used so... recklessly!”
He was still chewing the candy he so kindly borrowed, only half-listening. “Reckless? Nah, that’s called style, babe. They’ll remember it forever. They should thank me for making their day cool.”
“Style?!” you screeched, and he almost felt bad. “Blasting Gangnam Style, sirens wailing, and you had the audacity to throw candy out the window like some... cop Santa?!”
Now he did laugh, the sound loud enough to echo around the block. Some of the people nearby on the street gave him curious looks, but he waved them off. “What? It’s called multitasking. Besides, the twins loved it. They told me I’m their hero. How can I say no to my kids, huh? Their words, not mine, by the way.”
You groaned and for a second, he thought you might hang up. “You’re insufferable. Absolutely insufferable. And stop eating the kids’ candy!”
Caught mid-chew, Shidou smirked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I swear, Ryusei, if you don—”
“Love you, babe!” he interrupted, his tone cheerful. “And the kids love me too. Don’t forget that part. Now, I gotta go, official police business calls. You know, saving the world, keeping our streets cool.”
“Ryusei—!”
Click.
He hung up, a chuckle escaping as he leaned forward, unwrapping another candy. Moments like these reminded him how much he adored you, his firecracker of a wife, and the twins' choice for sweet treats.
content: fluff, angst/comfort with a happy ending, reader is a ghost, platonic + romantic interactions, strangers to friends (to more?), slight pining
synopsis. sae is 13 years old when he moves to madrid. his temporary apartment is old and cheap, and worst of all it's haunted. but he finds your company better than nothing, even if you do tend to knock all of his belongings over.
wc. 5.7k
You are dead.
As it comes to all mortal humans, you have died. You can't remember when, or how, or why— only that it is your duty to haunt this home, that you are abysmally cold, and that you are dead.
You don't know if you had any last words, what it was like to draw a breath, or how to stop feeling so cold. Cradling yourself somehow makes it worse. But you are dead, so what does it matter if you can't remember?
If you had aspirations and meaning in life, then you suppose you should try to find them in death, too. So you float around empty halls, deliberately bump into things just for the fun of it, and pretend that you aren't dead. It is purposeful enough.
There's a boy who lives with you.
You are dead, and he is alive, yet he seems completely unbothered by your loud, obnoxious presence.
Sae feels more dead than alive.
He is 13 years old when he moves into his temporary home in Madrid. It's old and worn. It is all his parents could afford with Yen in a foreign country.
His new home is despairingly lonely. It makes the heart in his chest sink into the pit of his stomach. He misses Rin. His parents. Japan.
He should be thankful. He doesn't mean to be a brat. But the small apartment is cramped and cold and smells like mildew. He's allergic to something in the walls. His light buzzes horribly when it turns on.
And, well. The place is haunted.
You are a ghost haunting an old, rickety apartment in Madrid.
You've never seen your reflection in the mirror, but you're pretty sure you look scary. There has been others before him— a young couple with a dog; a retired carpenter; a businessman complaining about how shitty work is over the phone. Each and every one of them have left you the same way: screaming, crying, colour drained from their faces and packing their suitcase before you could even say hello.
It's a little lonely, being a ghost. Sometimes you wish you came off a little friendlier. You have no ill intent, you're just bored. Bored and lonely and wishing to know why everyone thinks you're so terrifying.
The boy who lives with you is the first. He's the first to look you dead in the eyes and shrug you off. He's the first to fall asleep knowing your presence is watching. He's the first to leave out a bowl of warm, steaming rice for you even though he seems to know you can't physically eat it.
His company is silent, as is yours. It's better than nothing.
Sae is 13 years and 5 months old when he tells Rin his apartment is haunted.
"A ghost? Seriously?" Rin sounds unimpressed even through the static of the phone call. Take it from the kid who watches horror movies in his spare time. Freak, Sae thinks.
"Seriously. I have a picture."
He can hear his brother pulling his phone away from his ear to look at the image he just sent. The call goes quiet for a moment, and then Rin is scoffing in the microphone again.
"Quit messing with me." The younger Itoshi sighs. "This isn't funny."
Rin is only 11. He lives at home with Mom and Dad. He's not alone right now, in a place where everyone speaks a jumbled language he can't decipher yet.
He doesn't understand that even if Sae isn't being haunted, he shouldn't crush his brother's hopes that someone, or something, is watching over him.
"I'm not," Sae deadpans.
"Yeah, okay, and what does this ghost do, then?" He still sounds skeptical.
"Mostly just knocks over my books and stuff."
From his couch, he watches you bristle in embarrassment and scurry away into the darkness of the hall.
You are some sort of untethered soul, unsure of where your actual body rests. It could be 10 meters from this apartment. It could be in Antarctica, for all you know.
Okay, well, Antarctica is a bit of a reach, but you're certain that your body is somewhere. You wonder what kind of clothes you used to wear; what kind of music you used to listen to; what kind of hairstyle you used to prefer.
You wonder if these things are anything like Sae's.
He's all you have right now. It would be nice if you had some things in common. Maybe you could be friends, if he was ever going to acknowledge you to your face instead of gossiping to his brother.
You watch him quietly from the kitchen table, waiting for your bowl of rice. You must make some kind of face when he instead places a plate of eggs in front of you.
He almost laughs, you think. He hasn't shown any sort of emotion in response to you thus far, so it's hard to tell.
"Coaches told me I have to be stricter about my diet," he says out loud. It's the first words he has ever spoken to you. It's the first words anyone has ever spoken to you.
He eats his bland eggs silently after that remark, eyeing them disdainfully.
You have that in common, at least. You miss your warm bowl of rice.
Sae thinks you are funny.
He's only ever known ghosts to be malicious, benevolent beings. Things stuck in purgatory with no way out, forced to wander the mortal plane and thus turning into baneful monsters. Watching spooky movies with Rin has ingrained this into him— hardwired his brain into giving him goosebumps whenever you're around even though he knows you're harmless.
He has to wonder how anyone could ever find a ghost like you genuinely scary, with your avoidant eyes and that patience while you wait for breakfast.
He doesn't mind doing twice the amount of dishes. Not if it means he doesn't feel alone.
You do silly things, like shoving his belongings over when you want his attention, or sitting on the floor and blowing bone-chillingly cold air into his face when he's taking his midday nap.
He's discovered that your inconsistent corporeal interactions with the world are quite amusing.
"What's your name?" He asks one day over eggs that he's shoving around on his plate.
Silence. Of course.
"Don't have one?"
You shake your head, but really, you don't know. You can't remember.
Sae has never been the talkative type, but for some reason he just can't keep his mouth closed. Being a complete shut-in and not having anyone to talk to outside of his team would do that to him, he guesses. He's thankful that you at least don't seem to have a language barrier when he speaks Japanese.
"Should I name you?"
Your offended expression screams: What am I, a pet?
He just smiles, placing his fork down and observing you carefully. And the name he decides on dances at the tip of his tongue, sounds so sweet coming from his lips.
You can't help but think the name was meant for you, in life or in death.
You like listening to Sae talk.
He has a voice smooth as silk, so charming and boyish. He's young, you think. He told you once that you also looked rather young, and asked you how old you were when you died.
Even if you had an answer for him, it's not like you could have told him.
Sae is famous for his age, you discover one night while watching television with him. You're sitting on the floor and he's on the couch. You cause the TV to frizzle and crack with static but he doesn't shoo you away. Maybe he finds your presence more valuable than the background noise of the screen.
He's in a recording, playing what he calls "football"— light blue uniform, eyes wide with adrenaline, sweat sticking to his forehead and a proud shine in his expression. He isn't smiling by any means (you've also discovered that he rarely does), but you can tell he's happy.
"I'm going to be the greatest striker," he says from the couch. He talks about his dreams a lot, which is apparently what he used to do with Rin, but you don't mind filling in that role temporarily. "I'm going to be the best in the entire world."
You don't know anything about football, but you believe him anyways.
Sae is 14 years old when he gets his first contract payment.
This is his chance, he realizes, to move out of his shitty little apartment and into an actual livable home.
He has to consider if you'll feel lonely, if you even can feel lonely, and if you'll like hanging out with your next housemate, whoever it is that's unlucky enough to have a ghost befall them.
He's getting soft. If it were any other point in his life, Sae would have taken the chance to move out without hesitation. But you've been there for him since day one, kept him enough company — no matter how quiet — for him not to go literally insane.
You're the only thing he has in Madrid that he can come home to right now. You’re the only reason he even comes home at night instead of just sleeping in the locker rooms.
If not him, who else would feed you crappy bland eggs in the morning?
You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. At some point, it became his routine.
"I was thinking of moving out."
Your head tilts to the side. You seem perplexed by his statement.
"Like, leaving. Leaving here."
You blink at him, head tilting the other way. There's a look in your eyes that tells him you understand. There's also a look that tells him it's not your first time being abandoned, left in this terribly lonely, smelly apartment.
"I can never tell what you're thinking," he huffs.
You're still for a moment, just staring at him as if you suddenly can't understand Japanese. But then you get up from the table, walk over to the container of dry rice that's been untouched for so long that it's gathering dust, and knock it over.
"Hey," he scolds sharply, chair screeching as he stands. "I have to clean that, you know?"
You start moving the spilled rice into place. He watches curiously as you sort dry rice into a pile. You don't know any Kanji, he isn't surprised. But you know enough to draw him a universally understood symbol.
When he peers over at the messy counter, he finds himself staring at a giant X. Stay, it means. Don't leave.
That night, when he knows you've retreated into the closet where you seemingly go to sleep, he crumples up the lease for his new place without signing and burns the paper.
It's because he needs to make you eggs tomorrow morning. Only he would know to do that.
"Do ghosts ever have dreams?"
You raise your head from the edge of the bed. You've made it a new habit to protect him in his sleep, from what he can tell. Perching yourself on the floor beside the mattress and resting there, head in your arms, making his sheets cold.
You shake your head. Of course not, he internally smacks himself. What a ridiculous notion.
He rolls himself over onto his side, looking at you from under his duvet. "So when you sleep, you don't see anything?"
Another shake of the head. He isn't sure you're understanding him. There's another pause as he peers at you, and then he sighs, eyes sliding shut.
"Do ghosts ever have dreams?" He asks again, this time emphasizing his words in a different way and hoping you'll answer him the way he wants.
Your eyes shift away for a second, as if pondering. When you look back he's surprised to see that you look... bashful?
You point at him, then at yourself, then shy away again.
You. Me. Friends.
Sae feels silly that it makes his heart ache a little— the sadness carried in your face and a loneliness so powerful he feels it rattling in his own bones.
Well, the two of you have a lot more in common than he thought. How long had you been alone? Was that really all you ever dreamed of? Having a friend?
Suddenly, his doubts about his own dreams feel immeasurably small.
He reaches out to pat your head. His hand goes through you.
Sae is 15 years old when he packs up his belongings for a flight to Japan.
"I'll be back," he promises with a small smile. You believe him. He doesn't lie to you.
You wait patiently at the door for him for two weeks, three days, and sixteen hours. When he comes home, he finds you sitting on the floor like you always do with your head in your knees and a sleepy expression on your face.
He seems colder. More withdrawn, for some reason.
"Miss me?" Sae asks, but he's not even looking at you. He makes his way over to the kitchen and dumps a cup of rice into the cooker, suitcase abandoned at the door unpacked.
You trail behind him curiously, watching him in confusion as he washes it in the sink. He pauses, finally glancing at you before reaching over and dumping a second cup of rice in.
"I stress eat. Don't tell my coach."
The words don't make much sense to you, but you nod anyways.
For the first time in months, he places a bowl of warm rice in front of you. You do as he does, say thanks for the food in your head even though you can't eat, and observe him. You both sit quietly in the dim light of the apartment, moonlight beaming through your single rickety window.
He only gets four bites in before he puts his head in his hands and sobs.
You've never seen someone cry so hard before. Usually, they only do it when they first catch a glimpse of you and flee in terror. You've never known it to be such a painful sound— like a bird singing for the sky but never finding it.
Sae sits there for a long time just crying to himself, not caring that your presence is still watching. It's not like you'd ever judge him or have the voice to speak this secret, anyways.
"Fuck—" he hiccups, wiping up his face. "—Sorry."
You look at him funny. He has no reason to apologize. He's just a kid. A 15 year old kid who needs to stress eat in the solitude of his lonely apartment right now. It makes your chest squeeze; an unfamiliar, horrible feeling that's completely new to you. You wonder if this is what all the anime he watches calls a heart.
By the time he finishes crying, his rice is cold. And when he looks up, his eyes widen. Your lips are trembling and you look like you want to shout at him, but you can't. You are dead. You're a ghost. You can't yell some sense into him, even if you tried.
In the pale moonlight shining into the room, he can see tears illuminated on your cheeks.
Sae is 16 years old when he meets his first partner.
"They're nice," he reassures you as he slicks his bangs up with gel. You shake your head in disapproval and he rolls his eyes. You always liked his bangs down, thinks he looks better that way. "Well, I can't stay single forever."
You scowl at him and swivel on your heel to stubbornly deny his claims. He just laughs.
"You're seriously jealous?"
You shoot him a glare.
"If you really don't like them, you could always scare them away. You are a ghost, aren't you?" He reaches up to pat your head as he always does. And as always, his hand phases through you.
He turns around to fix his hair again, leaning into the mirror to see himself closer.
You're not sure if you even have human features. You can't see them in a reflection, anyways. Even if you did, you're sure they're pretty scary.
You glance at Sae in the reflection. He looks as good as ever, no longer a scrawny little 13 year old kid who eats rice for breakfast every morning. You wonder if his partner is pretty like he is.
He must notice the chill in the air grow ten times colder— a telling sign that your mood is dropping. He turns around to see what has happened, only to find you sulking.
"What?"
You pout, gesturing to the mirror. He looks to the vanity, then to you, and he shakes his head with an exasperated smile.
"I was wondering when you'd ask," he says as if this was a conversation he's been waiting for. And then he talks. Talks more than you've heard in a long time— since he came home from Japan, probably.
He's gotten meaner over the years. He was always a rude little kid, but being pushed around in football must have given him thicker skin and a sharper tongue. You've never known him to be a saint of a human, someone who speaks so eloquently in their descriptions. But here he is now, defying your every expectation like he always does.
He tells you what colour your hair is. Compares the shape of your head to a fruit you can't recall an image of. Gives you a detailed explanation of all your flaws and marks and why he thinks they're so perfect because it proves that you were indeed alive and human at some point.
"You're beautiful," he concludes casually, as if he's not turning the entire world on its head right now.
Silence fills the room as he waits for your response. You don't do anything but gawk at him, and he chuckles.
He doesn't show up to his date that night.
"Your hair got longer," Sae points out one day while he's scrolling through his phone.
Your eyes flutter open from where your head rests on the coffee table. You hadn't even noticed. Can ghosts grow?
"You know, I used to think you'd stay the same forever, but you've been growing up with me. It's cute."
Have you? Is it cute? Are you seriously so tethered to him that you've been unconsciously changing to match him?
Sae puts his phone down at your confusion. "Should I give you a birthday if you're going to grow up?"
You don't know what a birthday is. When he tries to explain it, you're even more perplexed. Ghosts don't have birthdays. They have... deathdays.
He puts a cake in front of you anyways and lets you blow out the candles.
Sae is 17 years old when he gets the eviction notice.
Four years. Four long, hard, unbelievably painful years later, and he's finally being kicked out of his house.
13 year old Sae would have celebrated. All he feels now is despair.
He doesn't tell you. He can't. How can he explain that he won't wake up every morning at 6am sharp to make you eggs? That you won't have someone around who will tell you every little thing that's changed about you from the last day? That you won't be able to doodle him little incomprehensible blobs with dry rice anymore?
He shouldn't care so much. You're not chained to this Earth. You might just disappear once he leaves, inperceptable to anyone else. The thought makes him so sick that he throws up that night. He tells you he ate some bad food.
Sae doesn't want you to feel sad or lonely, but it's not like he can just become a squatter in this place. His dream is to play football, not be thrown into jail.
You wake up one morning, and he's gone.
There isn't a note. There isn't an explanation anywhere to be found. There isn't even a trace of evidence that Itoshi Sae ever lived here.
Well, except for the plate of eggs and bowl of rice sitting on the stove.
You thought you would have been used to being alone by now. For some time, you were used to it. But that was many years ago.
You're not sure how long you've been haunting this apartment in Madrid, nor do you know how much time passes after Sae leaves. The world seems to come to a halt, actually. Without him, what fun is being a ghost?
Now you're just a lost soul like all the others. There isn't anything special about you. You're just the ghost that used to haunt Itoshi Sae and wake him up from his naps.
For the first time in years, you only know one thing. A singular fact that keeps you bound to this world: it's your duty to haunt this home. There is nothing else.
No one moves in after Sae leaves. No one new comes to be haunted. No one dares to set foot into this apartment. You remember that there were moments when life flickered inside of you, if even for just a fraction of your infinite time. The reason for that has abandoned you without explanation.
There's a knock on the door one day. You can't open it, and the person outside doesn't bother sticking around to see you phasing through the door to look around.
There's a birthday cake on the floor with candles that say '19' sticking out of it.
Only one human in the entire world would have deemed today to be your 19th birthday. He's nowhere to be seen.
He moves back to Japan on his 21st birthday. Sae is having trouble remembering what you look like, despite seeing you in his dreams every night.
It's a terrible realization. So terrible that it makes him sob into his pillow at night when no one in the world is awake to hear his anguish.
Japan is lonelier than Madrid. He never thought it would happen, and he blames you entirely.
He doesn't have anyone waiting for him when he opens the door to his luxury penthouse apartment. He only washes one plate in the morning. He wakes up from his midday naps undisturbed and rested.
Sae misses you deeply. And he can't help but wonder if you feel the same.
(You don't know what the yearning ache inside of you is. You don't know what to call it.
You miss him, too. You just can't put a name to the feeling.)
He doesn't stop seeing you in wisps; little blurs in his peripheral that make his head turn fast as lightning. Wherever he looks, you're gone.
It's not fair that you're a ghost who both literally and figuratively haunts him. He'd like to move on in life and forget about those 4 miserable years he spent living in that damned apartment.
He can't. Sae is incapable of moving on from that place. The irony of it is that you actually can't move on from that place, for some reason.
He would give anything to have you haunting him again. It doesn't matter where in the world the two of you are, if you were together everything would be okay. He's impossibly lonely without you.
You start to think that you're the selfish one.
The idea of leaving this terrible apartment in Madrid scares you to your very core— whatever soul is resting in your incorporeal body. It's not fair to place the blame entirely on Sae. Not when you're too wimpy to leave this place and find him.
Death is lonely without him.
One step forward, one day at a time. It's the advice Sae used to mutter to himself while getting ready in the morning.
One step forward, one day at a time. One step forward, one day at a time. And day by day, you're slowly inching closer to the door.
Sae talks to Rin and all he can think about is your confused smiles and head tilts. He talks to his parents and all he can imagine is how cold the room would be if it were you. He talks to his fucking therapist and thinks that all of her shitty advice can't compare to your quiet understanding— that your tears of solidarity are the only thing that could make him feel better.
It's fucked up, really, that he can't move on. His body is in Japan going through the motions: playing football, being famous, being interviewed and going home to nothing. His heart is in Madrid. You took it with you and refuse to let go.
You're the closest thing to love he's ever felt, perhaps— his only friend in Spain. His only reason not to leave. A ghost from his childhood that protected him in his sleep and ate bland eggs for breakfast across the table from him every morning. A ghost that would sit on the floor and wait for him to come home every day. A ghost that kept him company when he had no one else.
He loves you. He doesn't. He needs you. He doesn't. He misses you. He doesn't. Whatever. What does it matter now?
"So playing football has always been your dream?"
Sae stares blankly at the interviewer. He's reminded of a distant conversation: he is laying in bed looking at a ghost with a lump in his throat, and then he makes his first and only friend in Spain.
"Yes."
"And now that you're back in Japan, will you be playing for the national team?"
"I have no interest in playing on such a weak team." In other words, he has no reason to stay in Japan.
"So where will you go?"
Anywhere but here, he wants to say. In reality, he doesn't know where to go anymore if not to his old apartment in Spain. He just knows that he wants to come home to your sleepy face.
(That night, he makes two bowls of rice. He cries like he's 15 years old again and just ruined his relationship with his brother.)
You've never been outside before.
You've heard about it, almost entirely from Sae but also from little snippets of anime he liked to watch. It's brighter than you imagined it to be, and warmer. You're not sure you've ever felt so warm before— it's hard to when you are a walking freezer.
There isn't anyone to tell you where to go. No one pays you any mind. You wonder if you even exist anymore outside of the small confines of that old apartment.
Something tells you that you do.
You don't know where to start looking. He could be all the way across the globe for all you know, though he did used to talk about his home country.
You have no map. You have no sense of direction. You have no one to ask for help.
All you have is the soul caged within your ghostly body tugging in one direction, and wispy feet dragging your body along in response.
Sae is 23 years old when he finally signs the contract to play for Japan, after months of being pestered by Rin about it.
His relationship with his brother is complicated. On one hand, he feels as though Rin will never truly forgive him for what he did when he was 15. On the other, he looks so ecstatic to be playing football together again that Sae wonders if their discourse was imaginary.
Japan is just a smidge less lonely with Rin in his life.
He wants to tell you all about it. That everything worked out and it's fine now. That you can stop weeping for him and to wipe up the tears that fall into nothing.
He counts the distance between you. Fourteen thousand kilometres separate him from telling you how he's living his new dream: playing football with his little brother again.
Fourteen thousand kilometers, ten years of needing you, and a reminder set on his phone to buy you a birthday cake again this year.
His heart aches.
Japan is loud and busy and everyone is always in a hurry to get places.
You have to wonder if Sae really grew up in a city like this, and how he turned out so calm and unmovable. The street names are all in Kanji you can't read, but your soul tells you that you're going the right way, anyways.
There's a crowd gathering when your feet finally come to a halt. Lights flash and there are fancy looking people with microphones clamouring toward the center.
It's only a fraction of a second that your eyes meet, and then someone shoves him into the back of the car and they drive off.
He must be famous here, too.
Sae is 24 years old tossing and turning in his bed, wondering if you were just a figment of his imagination or if you were truly standing there under a streetlamp watching him.
It wouldn't be the first time he dreamed you into existence; on some occasions you feel so real that he nearly reaches out to attempt to pat your head, like he always used to do when he was younger.
He goes back to that spot a couple hours later. The crowd is long gone and it's the dead of night— no one would be around to witness Itoshi Sae looking psychotic.
He doesn't find you in that spot. Instead, you're two blocks down and crouched in front of the window of a 24 hour shop. There's an ad for sparklers, and though you can't read the poster itself, the picture makes you stare with wide eyes.
He crouches down beside you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.
"Do you want one?" He asks. You look at him in a strange way and his knees grow weak beneath him. You nod.
He comes out five minutes later with a few packs in his hand, walking away from you down the street to the park. You follow him quietly as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.
Sae holds one out, flicks the lighter in his pocket open and ignites the first sparkler. You watch it in fascination, ghostly form illuminated in warm orange and yellow light.
He smiles at you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.
When the sparkler dies out, he lights another. And another. And another, until he's gone through all the packets he could afford with the Yen in his wallet right now.
As if 7 years of distance never existed between you, he reaches out to pat your head. His hand falls through you.
You think Sae's new apartment is pretentious, but it's clean and open and doesn't smell like mildew.
It's hard to imagine what kind of purpose you had before him— all your memories are flooded with his hands and eyes and bangs and small smiles reserved for you. You think that the only reason you were ever materialized into the mortal plane was to haunt him, and only him. Itoshi Sae's permanent looming presence.
He doesn't seem to mind. In fact, you've noticed he's been smiling more lately since you started waiting for him to come home by the door.
Sae is 25 years old when you fall asleep beside him in his bed.
You don't care that he's a kicker or a blanket hog in his sleep. It's not like either of those would affect you. He watches your sleeping face carefully, waiting to see if he would ever wake up from this blissful dream and be alone again.
But every time he wakes up, there you are.
You've grown since he left you in Madrid— you don't look like some lost little kid anymore, at least. He wonders if your souls are truly so intertwined that you would change alongside him, regardless of the distance.
Your eyes flutter open and his breath catches in his throat. You blink at him slowly in the pale moonlight, brows furrowed.
You point at him. Then yourself.
You. Me.
He nods in understanding.
When he drops a plate of protein pancakes in front of you for breakfast, you look confused.
"Oh, sorry. Do you want rice?"
You shake your head. You don't care what's for breakfast, as long as you're sitting across from him while he eats it.
"I'm going to be the world's best midfielder," he tells you one day. You're on the floor and he's on the couch, and it's like time had never even passed.
You don't know what that means, but it's his dream so it must be important. The most important thing in the world.
What you don't know is that it's not his entire dream. World's best midfielder doesn't mean a thing if he can't come home to tell you all about it.
You are dead.
You're a ghost haunting Itoshi Sae— one that followed him from Madrid all the way to Japan. You don't remember how, or when, or why you died. You can't remember what your face looks like either, no matter how much Sae tries to describe it to you.
You are dead. You're a ghost knocking over Sae's belongings to get his attention when you want it. You're the ghost curled up in bed with him even though he has to wear two layers to stay warm because of it. You're the ghost watching him rotate through different breakfasts that he says could never compare to a good old warm bowl of rice.
You are a ghost, and Itoshi Sae gave you a name. A birthday. A purpose greater than being a loud nuisance.
You are a ghost who likes to watch him light sparklers on his balcony. Who feels the things described only in the books he reads to you. Who learned to love somewhere along the way.
You are dead, and somehow alive at the same time.
(One day, Sae will be brave. One day, he will tell you he loves you. One day, he will thank you for waiting for him at the door when he comes home.)
annaxmalina
turnnoffyourmind
jacobvanloon
titsay
prguitarman
