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i’m lowk only adding my stuff on here bc my friend doesnt like using wattpad anymore.. 😓😓
she threatened to tell my fine shyt if i didnt listen 😢
「 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 」
y. isagi and m. bachira
── .✦ chapter iv ⤷ word count: 1.1k | chapter log | m.list ˎˊ˗
── .✦ AFTER THE BUTTONS
something shifted after that day.
it wasn’t loud. there was no clear line, no moment where everything snapped into something new—but it was there, subtle and undeniable, woven into the way l/n y/n looked at them, the way bachira meguru laughed, the way isagi yoichi hesitated just a fraction longer before answering her.
the second buttons had been small.
just pieces of metal.
but the meaning behind them—
that lingered.
and y/n knew it.
of course she did.
she wasn’t stupid.
she had seen the way isagi’s hands trembled when he gave his. the way bachira smiled like he’d just done something important, even if he couldn’t fully explain why. she had felt the weight of both buttons in her palm, warm from their bodies, close to where their hearts had been.
she understood.
she just didn’t care.
or rather, she chose not to.
because acknowledging it would mean changing something.
and y/n didn’t like change unless she was the one controlling it.
so instead, she did what she always did.
she took what she was given.
and asked for more.
“yo-chan.”
isagi froze mid-step.
his phone was still pressed to his ear, screen glowing faintly in the early afternoon light. he had been walking home from a quick errand his mother sent him on, plastic grocery bag swinging lightly at his side.
“…y-yes, y/n-san?” he replied quickly.
her voice on the other end was lazy. uninterested.
“go to that corner store near your house.”
isagi blinked. “the one by the intersection?”
“obviously,” she said flatly. “don’t make me repeat myself.”
“sorry.” he shifted the bag in his hand, “what do you need?”
there was a brief pause.
then—
“melona popsicles.”
isagi’s heart skipped.
“…mango ones?” he clarified.
“no, coconut,” she said dryly. “of course mango. don’t be stupid.”
“r-right.”
another pause.
“…and make sure they’re not melted.”
“…okay.”
“and don’t take too long.”
the line went dead.
isagi lowered his phone slowly, staring at the screen for a second before exhaling softly.
“okay,” he repeated to himself.
he turned around.
to be honest, he had been worried.
not right away—not in the moment when y/n had taken the button and walked out like nothing had changed—but later, when he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying everything over and over again.
he had said something.
done something.
given something.
and y/n hadn’t rejected it.
but she hadn’t accepted it either.
she had just… taken it.
like it meant nothing.
and that scared him more than anything else.
because if it meant nothing, then what were they?
what was he?
what did any of it mean?
he had woken up that morning with a tightness in his chest, a quiet fear curling beneath his ribs.
what if she ignored them now?
what if she decided they were boring?
what if—
“yo-chan.”
the memory of her voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
she had called him.
like normal.
told him what to do.
like nothing had changed.
and somehow that had been enough to make his chest feel lighter.
the corner store bell chimed softly as isagi stepped inside.
the cool air hit his skin immediately, a stark contrast to the warm spring afternoon outside. fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, illuminating neatly stocked shelves and rows of drinks lining the refrigerators.
he made his way to the freezer section without hesitation.
melona.
he spotted them easily—orange packaging, stacked in a neat row. he opened the freezer and reached in, fingers brushing against the cold plastic as he picked out two.
then he paused.
“…should i get more?”
y/n had only asked for melona popsicles.
but—
she might want another.
or she might get annoyed if there weren’t enough.
or—
isagi hesitated, then grabbed two more.
just in case.
he closed the freezer and walked to the counter, placing the popsicles down carefully.
“hot day, huh?” the cashier said casually.
isagi nodded. “yeah.”
he paid quickly, then stepped back outside, the bag cool against his hand now.
his phone buzzed.
meguru: where r u??
isagi typed back.
isagi: at the store. y/n-san asked me to get something.
a second passed.
meguru: ooh what???
isagi: melona popsicles.
there was a pause.
then—
meguru: WAIT IM COMING
isagi blinked.
“…coming?”
bachira meguru didn't walk.
he ran.
the monster inside him was loud today.
excited.
it had been like that since yesterday—since the button, since y/n had taken it, since something in bachira’s chest had felt… different.
not bad.
just new.
and bachira liked new things.
he spotted isagi near the intersection, slowing to a stop in front of him with a bright grin.
“yoichi!”
isagi looked up, surprised. “meguru?”
bachira leaned forward slightly, peering at the bag in his hand. “is that it?”
“…yeah.”
“can i see?”
isagi hesitated, then opened the bag slightly.
bachira’s eyes lit up. “mango!”
“y/n-san asked for them,” isagi said.
“i know,” bachira said easily. “i just wanted to see.”
“we should go,” isagi said.
bachira grinned. “yeah.”
y/n’s house was exactly what you would expect.
large.
quiet.
expensive in a way that didn’t need to announce itself.
the gates opened automatically as they approached, the path leading up to the front door lined with perfectly maintained greenery. everything was clean. precise. untouched.
isagi always felt a little out of place here.
bachira didn’t.
he never did.
the door opened before they could ring the bell.
a maid bowed slightly. “welcome.”
they stepped inside.
“you’re late.”
y/n’s voice echoed from the living room.
they followed it.
she was sprawled across a large sofa, wearing a pink fluffy bunny onesie, the hood down, her hair tied into two low buns that framed her face neatly. her phone rested in one hand, her legs stretched out lazily in front of her.
she didn’t look up when they entered.
“sorry,” isagi said automatically, stepping forward and holding out the bag. “here, y/n-san.”
she took it without a word, pulling one of the popsicles out and examining it briefly before opening it.
“you got four,” she noted.
“…i thought you might want more.”
she took a bite.
paused.
“…good,” she said simply.
isagi exhaled softly.
bachira plopped down on the floor beside the sofa, grinning up at her. “y/n-chan, i came too!”
she glanced at him briefly. “i can see that.”
he laughed.
the room settled into a familiar rhythm.
y/n eating, scrolling, occasionally giving commands.
bachira responding without hesitation, moving when she asked, talking when she didn’t.
isagi hovering somewhere in between, quieter, more aware.
watching.
thinking.
because now he knew.
now he couldn’t pretend he didn’t understand what this was.
or what it meant.
y/n didn’t acknowledge their feelings.
but she used them.
casually. effortlessly.
like it was natural.
like it was expected.
“…y/n-san,” isagi said quietly.
she didn’t look up. “what.”
he hesitated.
“…nothing.”
she hummed, uninterested.
bachira tilted his head, watching him.
something was changing.
not in y/n.
but in them.
and sooner or later something would have to give.
bow divider link
next chapter taglist: @x3nafix @virgothesimp @itafushiwarrior @jujuandherjuvinile @aeshmatic @alonelyartist1432 @vanillaadots @faiwihteto @cutesykayz @itoshirinlover @imactuallyabouttocrashout @ji9star0w0 @rainbows-dreams ˎˊ˗
gna be so fr i forgot to make chapter four so this might be a little rushed... (this is more of a 'reaction to after the non-confession confession' kind of chapter than actual progress in the story)
also lately i've been pretty busy and losing interest in writing things (i still get ideas just too lazy to put it into text) so just know it'll probably take me a long time to write chapters or oneshots and get them posted.
「 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 」
y. isagi and m. bachira
── .✦ chapter iv ⤷ word count: 1.1k | chapter log | m.list ˎˊ˗
── .✦ AFTER THE BUTTONS
something shifted after that day.
it wasn’t loud. there was no clear line, no moment where everything snapped into something new—but it was there, subtle and undeniable, woven into the way l/n y/n looked at them, the way bachira meguru laughed, the way isagi yoichi hesitated just a fraction longer before answering her.
the second buttons had been small.
just pieces of metal.
but the meaning behind them—
that lingered.
and y/n knew it.
of course she did.
she wasn’t stupid.
she had seen the way isagi’s hands trembled when he gave his. the way bachira smiled like he’d just done something important, even if he couldn’t fully explain why. she had felt the weight of both buttons in her palm, warm from their bodies, close to where their hearts had been.
she understood.
she just didn’t care.
or rather, she chose not to.
because acknowledging it would mean changing something.
and y/n didn’t like change unless she was the one controlling it.
so instead, she did what she always did.
she took what she was given.
and asked for more.
“yo-chan.”
isagi froze mid-step.
his phone was still pressed to his ear, screen glowing faintly in the early afternoon light. he had been walking home from a quick errand his mother sent him on, plastic grocery bag swinging lightly at his side.
“…y-yes, y/n-san?” he replied quickly.
her voice on the other end was lazy. uninterested.
“go to that corner store near your house.”
isagi blinked. “the one by the intersection?”
“obviously,” she said flatly. “don’t make me repeat myself.”
“sorry.” he shifted the bag in his hand, “what do you need?”
there was a brief pause.
then—
“melona popsicles.”
isagi’s heart skipped.
“…mango ones?” he clarified.
“no, coconut,” she said dryly. “of course mango. don’t be stupid.”
“r-right.”
another pause.
“…and make sure they’re not melted.”
“…okay.”
“and don’t take too long.”
the line went dead.
isagi lowered his phone slowly, staring at the screen for a second before exhaling softly.
“okay,” he repeated to himself.
he turned around.
to be honest, he had been worried.
not right away—not in the moment when y/n had taken the button and walked out like nothing had changed—but later, when he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying everything over and over again.
he had said something.
done something.
given something.
and y/n hadn’t rejected it.
but she hadn’t accepted it either.
she had just… taken it.
like it meant nothing.
and that scared him more than anything else.
because if it meant nothing, then what were they?
what was he?
what did any of it mean?
he had woken up that morning with a tightness in his chest, a quiet fear curling beneath his ribs.
what if she ignored them now?
what if she decided they were boring?
what if—
“yo-chan.”
the memory of her voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
she had called him.
like normal.
told him what to do.
like nothing had changed.
and somehow that had been enough to make his chest feel lighter.
the corner store bell chimed softly as isagi stepped inside.
the cool air hit his skin immediately, a stark contrast to the warm spring afternoon outside. fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, illuminating neatly stocked shelves and rows of drinks lining the refrigerators.
he made his way to the freezer section without hesitation.
melona.
he spotted them easily—orange packaging, stacked in a neat row. he opened the freezer and reached in, fingers brushing against the cold plastic as he picked out two.
then he paused.
“…should i get more?”
y/n had only asked for melona popsicles.
but—
she might want another.
or she might get annoyed if there weren’t enough.
or—
isagi hesitated, then grabbed two more.
just in case.
he closed the freezer and walked to the counter, placing the popsicles down carefully.
“hot day, huh?” the cashier said casually.
isagi nodded. “yeah.”
he paid quickly, then stepped back outside, the bag cool against his hand now.
his phone buzzed.
meguru: where r u??
isagi typed back.
isagi: at the store. y/n-san asked me to get something.
a second passed.
meguru: ooh what???
isagi: melona popsicles.
there was a pause.
then—
meguru: WAIT IM COMING
isagi blinked.
“…coming?”
bachira meguru didn't walk.
he ran.
the monster inside him was loud today.
excited.
it had been like that since yesterday—since the button, since y/n had taken it, since something in bachira’s chest had felt… different.
not bad.
just new.
and bachira liked new things.
he spotted isagi near the intersection, slowing to a stop in front of him with a bright grin.
“yoichi!”
isagi looked up, surprised. “meguru?”
bachira leaned forward slightly, peering at the bag in his hand. “is that it?”
“…yeah.”
“can i see?”
isagi hesitated, then opened the bag slightly.
bachira’s eyes lit up. “mango!”
“y/n-san asked for them,” isagi said.
“i know,” bachira said easily. “i just wanted to see.”
“we should go,” isagi said.
bachira grinned. “yeah.”
y/n’s house was exactly what you would expect.
large.
quiet.
expensive in a way that didn’t need to announce itself.
the gates opened automatically as they approached, the path leading up to the front door lined with perfectly maintained greenery. everything was clean. precise. untouched.
isagi always felt a little out of place here.
bachira didn’t.
he never did.
the door opened before they could ring the bell.
a maid bowed slightly. “welcome.”
they stepped inside.
“you’re late.”
y/n’s voice echoed from the living room.
they followed it.
she was sprawled across a large sofa, wearing a pink fluffy bunny onesie, the hood down, her hair tied into two low buns that framed her face neatly. her phone rested in one hand, her legs stretched out lazily in front of her.
she didn’t look up when they entered.
“sorry,” isagi said automatically, stepping forward and holding out the bag. “here, y/n-san.”
she took it without a word, pulling one of the popsicles out and examining it briefly before opening it.
“you got four,” she noted.
“…i thought you might want more.”
she took a bite.
paused.
“…good,” she said simply.
isagi exhaled softly.
bachira plopped down on the floor beside the sofa, grinning up at her. “y/n-chan, i came too!”
she glanced at him briefly. “i can see that.”
he laughed.
the room settled into a familiar rhythm.
y/n eating, scrolling, occasionally giving commands.
bachira responding without hesitation, moving when she asked, talking when she didn’t.
isagi hovering somewhere in between, quieter, more aware.
watching.
thinking.
because now he knew.
now he couldn’t pretend he didn’t understand what this was.
or what it meant.
y/n didn’t acknowledge their feelings.
but she used them.
casually. effortlessly.
like it was natural.
like it was expected.
“…y/n-san,” isagi said quietly.
she didn’t look up. “what.”
he hesitated.
“…nothing.”
she hummed, uninterested.
bachira tilted his head, watching him.
something was changing.
not in y/n.
but in them.
and sooner or later something would have to give.
bow divider link
next chapter taglist: @x3nafix @virgothesimp @itafushiwarrior @jujuandherjuvinile @aeshmatic @alonelyartist1432 @vanillaadots @faiwihteto @cutesykayz @itoshirinlover @imactuallyabouttocrashout @ji9star0w0 @rainbows-dreams ˎˊ˗
K*ll yourself
first of all, wtf. second, why are you censoring it? lol
so i've decided not to continue the 'game over' fic (yes i made sure this is the right name).
the reasons being because me and my friends arent interested in it anymore and because it's one of the fics i wrote on google docs so a bunch of work got editted without me knowing and some stuff got deleted so it's just a huge mess. so i'm just going to delete the things posted since there isn't enough chapters out for anyone to find it fun to read.
@xxxanimesimpxxx @cherriebella @vanillaadots @keikeis-stuff @5ku11h34rt @xoxolalia @maryj0yy @ji9star0w0 @oxlipinia @tokiyotomar3 @zhamooz @rinnerzzz @faiwihteto @arisu79 @catyrv @no1-seishiro-nagi-fan @utwenio @kittyuna @cremecaramel06 @alisiujana ˎˊ˗
sometimes i wonder why my dr stone fics are popular on wattpad but my blue lock fics aren't 🤔
「 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐠 」
read this please!!
── .✦ in which bachira fell in love with someone he shouldn't have. ⤷ word count: 1.8k | m.list ˎˊ˗
m. bachira
part one | part two
y/n had a problem.
it wasn’t a big problem.
not something serious like failing exams or getting caught skipping class or teachers starting to suspect that she was responsible for half the rumors floating around school.
no.
this problem was… smaller.
and infinitely more annoying.
she was starting to want to stop bullying bachira meguru.
almost.
y/n stared at her reflection in the mirror above her vanity, fingers lazily brushing through her long hair as the morning sunlight slipped through the curtains of her bedroom.
she frowned.
"...that's stupid."
the thought alone irritated her.
she leaned closer to the mirror, tilting her head as if she might somehow find the answer written across her face.
unfortunately, the reflection staring back at her looked exactly the same as always.
long h/c hair falling over her shoulders.
sharp e/c eyes.
pink cardigan draped loosely over her shoulders.
short skirt that technically broke school dress code but had never been enforced for her.
white legwarmers bunched comfortably around her calves.
she looked exactly like the same girl everyone knew.
sweet.
pretty.
harmless.
and secretly a complete bitch.
y/n sighed and leaned back in her chair.
"it's not like i like him."
she said the words out loud, as if that might make them more convincing.
because it was true.
bachira meguru was annoying.
weird.
eccentric in ways that made normal people uncomfortable.
he laughed at strange things.
talked to himself sometimes.
fell asleep in the most random places.
and worst of all, he looked happy even when people were being cruel to him.
y/n didn't understand that part.
if someone treated her badly, she'd destroy them socially.
slowly.
carefully.
she'd ruin their reputation, their friendships, their confidence.
but bachira…?
he just smiled.
sometimes he even thanked people.
like he genuinely didn't understand why they were being mean.
it was strange.
and strangely frustrating.
her fingers drummed lightly against the desk.
"...still."
she remembered the look on his face the last time she'd shoved him against the lockers.
the soft hitch in his breath.
the watery shine in his bright yellow eyes.
the bruises blooming along his arms where she'd grabbed him.
and somehow—instead of feeling bored like usual—she had felt…
something else.
something warm.
something that made her stomach twist pleasantly.
"..."
y/n slowly covered her face with both hands.
"...am i a sadist?"
the word echoed quietly in her room.
she lowered her hands again, staring at the ceiling.
no.
that was ridiculous.
she wasn't that messed up.
probably.
maybe.
…okay maybe a little.
but still.
that didn't mean she was going to stop bullying him.
being seen with someone like bachira meguru would be social suicide.
she had a reputation to maintain.
people expected her to act a certain way.
kind in front of teachers.
sharp in front of everyone else.
and definitely not affectionate toward the weird soccer boy everyone liked to mock.
so she had come up with a solution.
a perfect one.
she would simply ignore him.
in school.
out of school.
everywhere.
problem solved.
no bullying.
no weird feelings.
no complicated thoughts.
just distance.
y/n nodded to herself.
"that's a good idea."
so for the next two weeks she ignored him.
completely.
no visits to her house.
no messages.
no quiet conversations after school.
no letting him rest his head on her lap.
nothing.
if bachira tried to approach her, she walked away.
if he looked at her in the hallway, she pretended not to see him.
if he spoke to her—
she simply didn’t answer.
it should’ve worked.
it should’ve been easy.
but somehow…
it only made things worse.
because after about ten days y/n noticed something.
someone.
a girl.
the girl sat two rows behind bachira.
she was quiet.
painfully quiet.
the type of girl who apologized if someone bumped into her.
she had soft brown hair that framed her face and large, timid eyes that never seemed to look directly at anyone.
y/n didn’t even know her name.
but she knew one thing very clearly.
the girl liked bachira.
it was painfully obvious.
every time bachira spoke, her head snapped up.
every time he laughed, her face turned red.
every time he stood up, she watched him like he was the most interesting person in the room.
y/n noticed these things immediately.
because she was very good at noticing things.
especially when they irritated her.
which this absolutely did.
not that she cared.
of course not.
she didn’t care who liked bachira.
why would she?
it wasn’t like he belonged to her.
y/n rested her cheek against her hand again.
her eyes slowly drifted back toward bachira.
right on time the shy girl leaned forward slightly.
"b-bachira…"
her voice was so quiet it almost disappeared in the classroom noise.
bachira lifted his head from his desk.
his bright yellow eyes blinked sleepily.
"huh?"
the girl froze for a moment.
then she forced herself to continue.
"um… i was wondering if you—"
bachira tilted his head.
"...?"
she swallowed nervously.
"i-if you wanted help with the math homework…"
y/n's eyebrow twitched.
math homework?
that was the excuse?
the girl’s hands trembled slightly as she pushed a notebook forward.
"i-i’m pretty good at math, so…"
bachira looked at the notebook.
then he looked at her.
then he smiled.
wide.
bright.
friendly.
"oh! thanks!"
the girl's face instantly turned red.
y/n felt something unpleasant twist in her chest.
it was sharp.
ugly.
and very unfamiliar.
what the hell is that.
bachira leaned forward slightly, looking at the notebook.
"whoa… you solved all of them?"
"y-yeah…"
"that's amazing!"
he sounded genuinely impressed.
because bachira was the type of person who got excited about almost everything.
the girl looked like she might pass out.
y/n stared at the scene from across the room.
her nails tapped slowly against her desk.
seriously?
bachira was completely oblivious.
completely.
the girl might as well have been holding a giant sign that said i like you and he still wouldn’t notice.
instead he just kept smiling and talking about math like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
y/n felt that unpleasant twisting sensation again.
what is wrong with him.
the girl’s crush was so obvious it was embarrassing.
how could he not notice?
unless...
y/n's eyes narrowed slightly.
he does notice.
maybe he was pretending not to.
maybe he actually liked the attention.
the thought made something inside her snap.
no.
absolutely not.
bachira meguru was hers.
not in a romantic way.
obviously.
that would be ridiculous.
but still.
he was hers.
she had found him first.
she had claimed him years ago.
some shy nobody couldn’t just waltz in and start stealing him!
y/n straightened slowly in her seat.
her decision was made instantly.
if ignoring bachira allowed this annoying situation to happen then ignoring him was clearly the wrong choice.
the classroom bell rang.
chairs scraped across the floor as students began packing their bags.
the shy girl hesitated for a moment.
then she slowly stood up.
probably planning to talk to bachira again.
y/n moved first.
she stood up smoothly and walked across the classroom without hesitation.
her cardigan swayed gently behind her.
conversations around the room quieted slightly.
l/n y/n had that effect on people.
she stopped beside bachira’s desk.
the boy sitting in the chair in front of him looked up.
"...?"
y/n smiled sweetly.
"get up."
the boy blinked.
"what?"
her smile didn’t change.
but her eyes sharpened.
"i said get up."
he moved immediately.
nobody argued with that tone.
y/n slid into the chair the second it was empty.
she placed her bento box on bachira’s desk.
then she placed a second one beside it.
bachira blinked.
"...?"
his yellow eyes slowly lifted toward her face.
for a moment he just stared.
because something about this was wrong.
very wrong.
y/n never came near him at school.
ever.
not unless she was making fun of him.
and even then it was usually from a distance.
on top of that she had been ignoring him for two weeks.
two very long weeks.
bachira had noticed.
he always noticed things about her.
he just didn’t understand why she had suddenly started avoiding him.
it made his chest feel weird.
uncomfortable.
like something important was missing.
and now here she was sitting directly in front of him.
placing food on his desk.
"...y/n?"
she tilted her head slightly.
her smile looked soft.
sweet.
almost affectionate.
"i made you lunch today, megu."
the nickname rolled off her tongue effortlessly.
the classroom fell quiet again.
a few nearby students stared openly now.
bachira blinked again.
something definitely felt strange.
y/n never called him that at school.
never.
her eyes flicked toward the shy girl for half a second.
just enough.
a silent warning.
the girl froze instantly.
y/n turned back to bachira.
still smiling.
"...aren’t you going to eat?"
bachira looked down at the bento.
then back at her.
his brain buzzed faintly.
something about this situation didn’t make sense.
but he had missed her.
a lot.
two weeks without her attention felt weird.
empty.
he hadn’t realized how much he depended on those small moments with her until they disappeared.
so he pushed the confusion aside.
instead he smiled.
bright.
grateful.
"thanks!"
he opened the bento immediately.
the smell of homemade food drifted upward.
bachira's eyes lit up.
"whoa—!"
he recognized it instantly.
y/n’s cooking.
she had cooked for him plenty of times when he visited her house.
and bachira loved it.
"this looks amazing!"
y/n rested her chin on her hand, watching him.
"of course it does."
bachira grabbed his chopsticks.
then paused.
"...did i do something good?"
she blinked.
"what?"
"like…"
he scratched his cheek lightly.
"maybe i did something cool in soccer practice?"
his smile turned sheepish.
"so you're rewarding me?"
y/n stared at him.
for a moment she almost laughed.
bachira meguru was unbelievably simple sometimes.
he didn’t question things the way other people did.
he just accepted them.
that was part of what made him so easy to manipulate.
and part of what made him…
dangerously endearing.
"...sure," she said lightly.
bachira's eyes sparkled.
"really?"
"maybe."
he grinned like a little kid.
"yay."
then he started eating.
completely ignoring the stares of their classmates.
y/n leaned back in her chair.
her gaze drifted briefly toward the shy girl again.
the girl looked devastated.
y/n smiled faintly.
good.
territory successfully reclaimed.
but as bachira happily devoured the food beside her y/n noticed something else.
the bruise on his cheek looked even darker up close.
her fingers twitched slightly.
without really thinking she reached forward.
and lightly touched it.
bachira froze.
"...?"
her voice came out quieter than expected.
"...does it hurt?"
he blinked.
then smiled again.
"nah."
he said it so casually.
like getting hit was completely normal.
y/n stared at the bruise for a moment longer.
then she pulled her hand back.
"...idiot."
bachira just laughed.
and went back to eating.
like nothing was wrong at all.
taglist: @ji9star0w0 ˎˊ˗
continue the rich girl series PLEASEE I literally just checked your blog again and saw that post.. I was waiting for a new chapter 💔...
🦭
:3
I beg ofu ..
so this made me realise that i put in the wrong fanfic name... i meant the game over fic not rich girl 😭🙏
sorry guys 🙏
i will be continuing the rich girl one because my friends are REALLY into bachira and isagi and im lowk into the idea of those two being hopelessly in love.
im so sorry for the false alarm 🙇♀️🙇♀️
also next chapter will probably be coming out within the next few weeks (i still have to write a new one)
「 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐠 」
read this please!!
── .✦ in which bachira fell in love with someone he probably shouldn't have. ⤷ word count: 1.7k | m.list ˎˊ˗
m. bachira
part one | part two
bachira liked the floor.
not because it was comfortable.
not because it was warm.
but because it was the place he usually ended up.
classroom floors, hallway floors, dirt fields behind the school, the pavement near the vending machines — bachira had spent plenty of time staring up from the ground.
sometimes it was because someone had pushed him.
sometimes because someone tripped him.
sometimes because someone punched him.
and sometimes, when the bullying got boring, they just knocked him down and laughed.
he didn't always understand why.
bachira had never been very good at understanding other people.
his mother always told him that his brain simply worked a little differently. she never said it like it was a bad thing. if anything, she sounded proud whenever she said it.
"meguru," she would tell him, smiling softly as she brushed his hair out of his eyes, "your imagination is something special."
bachira believed her.
because if his imagination wasn't special, then the monster probably wouldn't exist.
the monster was always with him.
it had been there for as long as he could remember.
a shadowy presence that ran beside him whenever he played soccer. something that whispered in his ear during matches, telling him where to dribble, where to pass, where to strike.
the monster made soccer fun.
the monster understood him.
the monster never called him weird.
unlike the other kids.
"hey freak!"
a sneaker slammed into bachira's side.
he didn't even remember falling this time.
the sky above him was pale blue, the sun too bright to stare at directly. when he blinked, a circle of boys leaned over him, their shadows stretching across the dirt.
"you spacing out again?" one of them snorted.
another boy nudged bachira's shoulder with his foot.
"maybe he's talking to his imaginary friends again."
laughter erupted around him.
bachira blinked slowly.
their voices sounded distant, like they were underwater.
he tilted his head slightly, staring up at the clouds drifting lazily across the sky.
the monster hummed quietly beside him.
they're boring, it seemed to say.
bachira hummed back under his breath.
"...yeah."
"what was that?"
a hand grabbed the collar of his uniform shirt, yanking him halfway upright.
"you talking back now?"
bachira tilted his head again.
"i wasn't talking to you."
the punch came immediately.
his head snapped sideways and he collapsed back into the dirt.
laughter again.
bachira rubbed his cheek.
it stung.
but he had felt worse before.
he wondered briefly if the monster wanted to play soccer instead.
soccer would be more fun.
"god, you're so creepy," one of the boys muttered. "why do you even come to school?"
another kicked dirt toward him.
"seriously. just transfer already."
bachira blinked.
transfer?
he hadn't thought about that.
his mom would probably ask why.
he didn't really have a good answer.
the monster shifted restlessly beside him.
then—
"oi."
the voice cut through the laughter like a knife.
it wasn't loud.
but it was sharp.
the boys turned.
bachira didn't.
he was still looking at the clouds.
but he heard footsteps approaching.
slow.
confident.
unbothered.
a shadow fell across his face.
"what are you idiots doing?"
the voice belonged to a girl.
the boys immediately stiffened.
"...l/n," one of them muttered.
another scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
"nothing. we were just messing around."
"messing around?"
the girl's tone was light.
pleasant, even.
but something about it made the air feel colder.
bachira finally turned his head.
and that was the first time he saw her.
l/n y/n stood above him with her hands tucked into the sleeves of a soft pink hoodie wearing a white skirt.
pink legwarmers slouched around her calves, paired with clean sneakers that barely made a sound when she stepped forward.
her hair fell down her back in a long curtain, catching the sunlight whenever she moved.
her eyes were sharp.
pretty.
and very, very uninterested.
she glanced down at bachira for less than a second before looking back at the boys.
"you're picking on someone weaker than you."
she sighed softly.
"that's pathetic."
one of the boys frowned.
"what do you care?"
y/n smiled.
it was a very sweet smile.
the kind that teachers liked.
the kind that made people think she was nice.
then she stepped forward and kicked him in the shin.
hard.
he yelped, stumbling backwards.
her smile never changed.
"because," she said pleasantly, "he's mine."
silence.
the boys blinked at her.
bachira blinked at the clouds.
the monster tilted its head curiously.
"...yours?" one of them repeated.
y/n shrugged.
"yeah."
she nudged bachira lightly with the tip of her shoe.
"i found him first."
another pause.
the boys exchanged looks.
nobody really wanted to argue with l/n y/n.
she had a reputation.
not with teachers.
teachers loved her.
but students knew better.
y/n had a way of ruining people without ever getting caught.
rumors spread quickly after someone crossed her.
broken phones.
embarrassing photos.
mysterious social media leaks.
sometimes even fights behind the school.
nobody could ever prove she was involved.
but everyone knew.
so the boys backed off.
"whatever," one muttered.
another clicked his tongue.
"take your freak then."
they walked away.
y/n watched them leave.
her smile disappeared the second their backs were turned.
"idiots," she muttered.
then she looked down again.
bachira was still on the ground.
still staring at the sky.
"...are you going to get up?"
bachira blinked.
then he sat up slowly.
dirt clung to his uniform.
his cheek was already starting to bruise.
but he didn't seem bothered.
instead, he tilted his head and stared at her like she was something interesting.
"you're not scared of me."
y/n raised an eyebrow.
"should i be?"
bachira hummed.
most people were.
they called him creepy.
weird.
a freak.
but she didn't seem bothered at all.
if anything, she looked bored.
bachira grinned suddenly.
wide.
bright.
"you're cool!"
y/n stared at him.
"...huh?"
"you saved me."
he said it so casually.
like it was obvious.
y/n crossed her arms.
"i didn't save you."
bachira tilted his head again.
"but you made them leave."
"yeah."
"so you saved me."
y/n sighed.
she already regretted stepping in.
"listen," she said flatly, "don't get the wrong idea."
bachira watched her patiently.
y/n pointed at him.
"i didn't do it for you."
"oh."
she turned away.
"i just hate watching idiots act tough."
bachira stood up slowly.
dirt fell from his clothes.
"okay."
"...okay?"
"yeah."
he smiled again.
"thanks."
y/n glanced back at him.
he really meant it.
no sarcasm.
no hidden meaning.
just gratitude.
she clicked her tongue.
"...you're weird."
bachira beamed.
"i know!"
the monster laughed beside him.
y/n stared at him for a moment longer.
then she sighed again and started walking.
"whatever."
after a few steps, she noticed something.
footsteps behind her.
she stopped.
"...why are you following me?"
bachira blinked.
"because you're going somewhere."
"that doesn't mean you have to come."
"but you saved me."
y/n pinched the bridge of her nose.
"that doesn't mean we're friends."
bachira tilted his head.
"oh."
he thought about it.
then—
"can we be?"
y/n slowly turned around.
he looked serious.
completely serious.
like he was asking something very important.
she stared at him.
then she smiled again.
sweet.
harmless.
two-faced.
"...sure."
bachira's eyes lit up instantly.
"really?!"
y/n shrugged.
"i guess."
the monster purred quietly beside him.
bachira grinned so wide it looked like his face might split in half.
"yay!"
y/n turned away again before he could see the brief flicker of annoyance in her eyes.
great.
now the weird kid is attached.
she had only meant to scare those idiots off.
instead she somehow adopted a stray.
annoying.
very annoying.
but maybe—
just maybe—
she could make use of it.
after all...
someone like bachira meguru would be very easy to control.
bachira meguru was kneeling on the floor again.
this time, however, it was much nicer than the dirt field behind his elementary school.
soft carpet.
warm lighting.
and the faint scent of strawberry shampoo drifting through the air.
his cheek rested against y/n's thigh as she sat comfortably on the edge of her bed.
her fingers moved lazily through his hair, combing through the black strands with golden underlights.
bachira closed his eyes.
he liked this.
a lot.
soccer practice had been exhausting today.
his muscles still hummed with leftover energy, but moments like this made everything feel calm.
quiet.
safe.
"...you're sweaty."
y/n's voice broke the silence.
bachira opened one eye.
"yeah."
she wrinkled her nose.
"gross."
he pouted slightly.
she flicked his forehead.
"don't make that face."
bachira puffed his cheeks anyway.
"i wanted to sit on the bed."
"absolutely not."
she pushed his head down onto her lap again.
"you're disgusting right now."
bachira didn't argue.
instead he snuggled closer, resting comfortably against her.
"...your lap is warm."
y/n rolled her eyes but didn't move her hand from his hair.
outside her bedroom window, the evening sun dipped slowly toward the horizon.
bachira hummed quietly.
the monster curled up beside him.
this was nice.
really nice.
school wasn't always like this.
at school, y/n barely acknowledged him.
sometimes she ignored him completely.
sometimes she insulted him in front of others.
sometimes she even joined in when people made fun of him.
bachira didn't mind.
not really.
because he knew the truth.
she still let him come over.
she still touched his hair.
she still kissed him sometimes.
so it was okay.
right?
bachira smiled faintly.
"y/n."
"what."
"i scored today."
she didn't sound impressed.
"good for you."
"did you hear?"
"no."
she twirled a strand of his hair around her finger.
"i don't go to your stupid soccer games."
bachira didn't seem bothered.
"i know."
"...then why bring it up?"
he opened both eyes now.
his bright yellow gaze drifted upward toward her face.
"because i wanted you to praise me."
y/n paused.
then she laughed softly.
"you're needy."
bachira grinned.
"only for you."
she tapped his forehead again.
"shameless."
but after a moment—
"...good job."
bachira's smile widened immediately.
"yay."
y/n shook her head slightly.
honestly.
bachira meguru was way too easy to please.
which was exactly why she kept him around.
taglist: @ji9star0w0 ˎˊ˗
little info about my upcoming bachira oneshots, they're random chapters this fic i was trying to write for my friend but i eventually got tired of it and ran out of ideas. she still wanted more bachira content and she really liked the concept of it so i'm just posting two or three chapters that i like.
(if you're wondering the concept is basically where bachira falls for a girl who shows him affection in private but bullies or ignores him in school because she can't stand to be near him)
i'll prob post the first part within the next few days
what if i tell you guys my friend got bored of the concept of my 'game over' fanfic and i don't feeling like uploading it
am i the only one who finds it weird we put mdni on stuff about minors? (like bluelock, haikyuu, mha, etc) especially since ik most of us were probably reading lemon and lime fics (please tell me you guys remember the citrus scale) at twelve or younger. and ik damn well there's a good chunk of us who wrote those fics at twelve too.
idk me and my friend were talking ab it
(feel free to send your thoughts in my inbox, i wont answer or reply or anything i just wna know what other ppl think)
after reading a few series off tumblr (bc ao3’s down and i’m waiting for my wattpad fics to update) i realised my fanfics are so wattpad coded
「 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 」
y. isagi and m. bachira
── .✦ chapter iii ⤷ word count: 2.1k | chapter log | m.list ˎˊ˗
── .✦ SECOND BUTTON
years passed quietly.
not in a dramatic way, not with a single moment where everything suddenly changed, but in the slow accumulation of days that turned scraped knees into fading scars and childish commands into habits no one questioned anymore. seasons rotated. uniforms changed sizes. voices deepened. the playground gave way to classrooms, then to hallways lined with lockers and bulletin boards announcing exams and graduation ceremonies.
by the time they were fifteen, the three of them had learned how to exist together without ever really talking about it.
graduation day arrived under a pale spring sky.
middle school uniforms dotted the school grounds, navy and black blazers standing out against the pink blur of cherry blossoms still clinging stubbornly to the trees. laughter echoed everywhere—too loud, too excited, layered with relief. parents hovered close, phones already in hand, calling out names and instructions like directors on a film set.
isagi yoichi stood stiffly beside bachira meguru, shoulders tense beneath his blazer. his tie felt too tight, his shoes too new, his heart too full.
“yoichi, smile a little,” his mother said gently, holding up her phone. “you look like you’re about to take an entrance exam.”
isagi startled, then laughed awkwardly. “s-sorry.”
next to her, bachira’s mother was already snapping photos, eyes bright with pride. “meguru, stand straight! oh—no, that smile’s fine. that one’s good.”
bachira grinned wide, effortless and bright, hands shoved casually into his pockets. graduation didn’t feel heavy to him. it felt like another checkpoint, another door to kick open.
“yoichi,” he murmured under his breath, leaning closer, “your ahoge’s sticking up again.”
isagi flushed immediately, reaching up to pat it down. “i know.”
off to the side, just outside the loose semicircle of parents and students, l/n y/n stood alone.
her uniform was perfectly pressed, skirt falling just the right length, blazer tailored in a way that subtly marked it as expensive even without knowing the brand. her long hair was styled neatly, pulled back with a simple but unmistakably high-end clip. she held her phone loosely in one hand, screen dark.
behind her, a black car waited at the curb. her driver stood beside it, hands folded, posture respectful and distant.
no parents.
no excited voices calling her name.
no camera angled lovingly toward her face.
y/n didn’t look upset.
she hadn’t for years.
by the time she was ten, she had learned that her parents didn’t attend school events. not concerts. not sports days. not graduations. they sent gifts instead—expensive, impersonal, delivered by staff who smiled politely and left just as quickly.
she didn’t resent it.
resentment required expectation.
and she had long since learned better.
still, her gaze flicked briefly toward isagi and bachira’s parents, laughter warm and unrestrained. something unfamiliar tightened, just slightly, in her chest before she dismissed it.
it was fine.
isagi’s mother noticed her first.
“y/n-chan!” she called brightly, phone still raised. “come here, dear. get in the picture.”
y/n blinked, then turned.
for a moment, she hesitated.
then she walked forward, steps smooth and composed, slipping easily into place between the two boys like she belonged there—which, in a way, she did.
isagi stiffened reflexively. “y/n-san—”
she ignored him, turning her head slightly and smiling.
not a wide, genuine smile.
an elegant one.
polished. practiced. the kind meant for cameras, not friends.
isagi’s mother snapped the photo, then another. bachira’s mom laughed softly, clearly charmed by the scene.
“you three have grown so much,” bachira’s mother said fondly. “it feels like just yesterday you were all covered in sand.”
bachira laughed. “y/n-chan was never covered in sand.”
“obviously,” y/n said lightly. “i have standards.”
bachira smirked.
slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hands and wiggled his fingers near her sides.
y/n’s eyes widened instantly.
“what are you—wait, don’t—!”
too late.
bachira lunged, fingers digging into her sides mercilessly.
she yelped, laughter bursting out of her despite herself as she stumbled back, swatting at him. “megu-chan! stop! that’s disgusting!”
the parents laughed openly, phones clicking rapidly to capture the moment—y/n flustered and off-balance, bachira grinning like he’d just scored a goal, isagi frozen between them, unsure whether to intervene or pretend he wasn’t there.
“all right, all right,” isagi’s mother said warmly. “you three go on. celebrate a little.”
bachira stopped, stepping back with a laugh. “okay!”
y/n straightened her uniform immediately, cheeks faintly flushed, dignity snapping back into place like armor. she shot bachira a glare.
“…i’ll remember this,” she said.
bachira only grinned wider. “scary.”
they wandered toward the vending machines near the edge of the school grounds, the noise of the main courtyard fading behind them.
“i want strawberry milk,” y/n announced, already slowing her steps.
isagi nodded automatically. “i’ll get it.”
bachira hummed, rocking back on his heels. “i’ll watch!”
isagi dug into his pocket, fingers brushing against cold metal as he fed coins into the machine. the familiar clunk echoed as the can dropped. he bent, retrieved it, and held it out to y/n with both hands.
“here, y/n-san.”
she didn’t take it.
her gaze was fixed elsewhere—across the courtyard, where a male student stood nervously in front of a girl. his hands shook slightly as he unfastened something from his blazer.
a button.
the second one.
y/n’s eyes narrowed, sharp and observant.
bachira followed her line of sight. “huh? what’s that?”
isagi hesitated, then glanced over. realization dawned. “oh… that.”
“that what?” bachira asked.
“…it’s a graduation thing,” isagi said slowly. “sometimes… a guy gives the second button from his uniform to a girl he likes.”
bachira tilted his head. “why the second one?”
isagi thought for a moment. “it’s… close to the heart. so it’s like… giving your heart away.”
bachira’s eyes lit up. “ohhh.”
he watched the exchange with interest. “so it’s like ownership?”
isagi winced. “i mean… not really ownership. it’s more symbolic.”
“sounds boring,” y/n said suddenly.
she snatched the strawberry milk from isagi’s hand, fingers brushing his briefly before pulling away. “that’s stupid.”
isagi startled. “huh?”
“giving something just because you like someone?” she scoffed, already turning away. “what a waste.”
bachira watched her go, expression thoughtful.
isagi stared after her, chest tightening slightly, something unspoken lingering in the space she left behind.
“…i guess,” he murmured.
the vending machine hummed quietly behind them as the cherry blossoms continued to fall, petals drifting down like unanswered questions.
they ended up at isagi yoichi’s house the same way they always did—without discussion, without ceremony, as if it were a foregone conclusion.
isagi’s mother welcomed them warmly, already halfway through asking about graduation when she ushered them inside. bachira kicked off his shoes with careless ease, nearly tripping over them as he laughed, while y/n stepped out of her loafers delicately, nose faintly wrinkled at the genkan floor before isagi quickly slid a house slipper into place for her.
“thank you, yo-chan,” she said absently, already scrolling through her phone.
isagi flushed. “y-you’re welcome, y/n-san.”
dinner passed easily.
isagi’s mother chatted happily, asking about their plans for high school, commenting on how tall they’d all gotten, occasionally scolding bachira for his posture while still smiling fondly at him. bachira answered everything enthusiastically, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks until isagi gently nudged him to be careful.
y/n ate neatly, expression composed, offering short replies when spoken to directly. she praised the food politely, correctly, like she’d been taught, and isagi’s mother beamed every time.
“you’re welcome here anytime, y/n-chan,” she said warmly. “it’s nice to have another child in the house.”
y/n paused for half a second, then nodded. “thank you, isagi-san.”
it wasn’t a lie.
after dinner, they retreated upstairs, as they always did, shoes left neatly at the bottom of the steps this time—thanks to y/n’s sharp glare.
isagi’s room was modest and familiar. posters of famous soccer players lined one wall, textbooks stacked neatly on his desk, a few old trophies catching the light near the window. the room smelled faintly of detergent and something clean, comforting.
the moment the door shut behind them, y/n crossed the room and flopped down onto isagi’s bed without hesitation, lying on her stomach and kicking her feet idly behind her.
“y/n-san,” isagi said automatically, setting his bag down. “you’ll get a stomachache if you lie down right after eating.”
“don’t care,” she replied, eyes glued to her phone.
bachira laughed softly and plopped down on the floor, back against the bed, arms draped loosely over his knees. for once, he wasn’t bouncing, wasn’t talking.
he was quiet.
too quiet.
isagi noticed immediately.
“meguru?” he asked, sitting at his desk chair and turning toward him. “you okay?”
bachira blinked, like he’d been pulled out of a dream. “huh? yeah.”
“…you’ve been quiet since earlier,” isagi said carefully.
bachira tilted his head, eyes drifting toward the window where the evening light filtered in. “have i?”
y/n glanced up from her phone, eyes narrowing slightly. “you’re being weird,” she said. “and that’s saying something.”
bachira laughed, but it sounded thinner than usual. “haha. sorry.”
silence settled in the room, heavier than before.
isagi shifted, fingers curling against the fabric of his pants. his gaze drifted to his blazer hanging neatly on the back of his chair.
the second button caught the light.
his chest tightened.
bachira’s eyes followed his gaze.
the monster stirred.
earlier that day, at the vending machine, isagi’s words had lodged themselves firmly in bachira’s head. close to the heart. giving it away. symbolic.
bachira didn’t fully understand traditions like that. he didn’t really care about rules or customs unless they felt fun.
but this one felt… interesting.
important.
his fingers brushed absently against his own blazer, finding the familiar shape of the button beneath his hand.
“yoichi,” bachira said suddenly.
isagi looked up. “yeah?”
“…do you think traditions are stupid?”
isagi hesitated. “…no. not really. i think they’re… just another way people try to say things they can’t say out loud.”
y/n scoffed softly from the bed. “cowards.”
bachira grinned faintly. “maybe.”
he stood abruptly, crossing the room in a few long strides. y/n frowned, finally setting her phone aside.
“what are you doing, megu-chan?”
bachira stopped in front of her, hands already working at the buttons of his blazer. “something fun.”
isagi’s heart skipped. “m-meguru—”
bachira undid the second button with a quick twist of his fingers and held it up between them, sunlight glinting off the metal.
“y/n-chan,” he said brightly. “here.”
the room went very quiet.
y/n stared at the button, then up at him, eyes sharp and unreadable. “…what.”
“it’s the second one,” bachira said, like that explained everything. “close to the heart, right?”
isagi’s breath caught.
bachira smiled wider. “i don’t really get it all. but i think you’re cool. and i like doing what you say. and the monster says this feels right.”
y/n’s fingers twitched.
“…that tradition is stupid,” she said flatly.
“maybe,” bachira agreed cheerfully. “but i wanna do it anyway.”
slowly, she sat up.
the movement was careful. deliberate.
“…you know this doesn’t mean i like you, right?” she said.
bachira shrugged. “that’s okay.”
her eyes searched his face, looking for mockery, hesitation, anything.
there was nothing.
finally, she reached out and took the button from his palm.
“…fine,” she said. “i’ll keep it.”
bachira’s grin was radiant.
isagi felt something twist painfully in his chest.
before he could stop himself, he stood too.
“y-n-san,” he said quietly.
she turned to him, expression shifting, curious.
isagi’s hands trembled as he reached for his own blazer, fingers fumbling slightly as he undid the second button.
his thoughts raced.
he didn’t think of ownership.
he thought of years of obedience that felt safe. of listening because it was easier. of liking the way she said his name. of wanting to stay exactly like this, unchanged.
“i… i don’t know if i’m doing this right,” he admitted softly. “but… i want you to have mine too.”
he held it out with both hands.
the room felt too small.
y/n stared at him for a long moment.
“…you’re stupid,” she said quietly.
isagi swallowed. “i know.”
another pause.
then she took the button.
“…you’re both idiots,” she added, standing up and brushing off her skirt. “but if you’re giving them away, i won’t reject it.”
she turned toward the door, chin lifted.
“i’m leaving,” she said. “my driver’s waiting.”
bachira waved cheerfully. “bye, y/n-chan!”
isagi bowed slightly. “get home safe, y/n-san.”
she paused at the door, fingers brushing the two buttons now tucked safely into her pocket.
“…don’t be late tomorrow,” she said. “both of you.”
then she left.
the door clicked shut.
bachira flopped back onto the floor with a satisfied sigh. “that was fun.”
isagi sank back into his chair, heart still racing.
“…yeah,” he whispered.
outside, the evening deepened.
and neither of them realized just how much they’d given away.
bow divider link
next chapter taglist: @x3nafix @virgothesimp @itafushiwarrior @jujuandherjuvinile @aeshmatic @alonelyartist1432 @vanillaadots @faiwihteto @cutesykayz @itoshirinlover @imactuallyabouttocrashout @ji9star0w0 @rainbows-dreams ˎˊ˗
「 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 」
m. kaiser
── .✦ chapter vi ⤷ word count: 1.8k | chapter log | m.list ˎˊ˗
── .✦ SPACE SHE LEFT BEHIND
today was the day.
kaiser knew it the moment he opened his eyes.
the air felt wrong—too quiet, too heavy, like the world itself was holding its breath. the room smelled of stale alcohol and damp concrete, the same as always, but today it pressed down on him harder than usual. his father was passed out on the couch again, bottle tipped sideways in his hand, chest rising and falling in uneven, ugly breaths.
kaiser slipped out without a sound.
he didn't eat. he didn't steal first. he didn't do any of the things his body was trained to do before the sun climbed too high.
instead, he went straight to the park.
his shoes scuffed against the pavement as he walked faster than usual, then faster still, like if he slowed down even a little he might lose his nerve and turn around. the park gates came into view, the familiar rusted bars and peeling paint, and his chest tightened painfully.
he was early.
the bench was empty.
he stopped in front of it, staring at the worn wood where she always sat, legs swinging, dress too clean and too bright for a place like this. the spot where she usually dropped crumbs from whatever she brought that day—cake, pretzels, candy she forgot she already ate.
nothing.
he sat down anyway.
the bench creaked under his weight, loud in the quiet morning. he hunched forward slightly, elbows on his knees, hands clenched together. his wrist still felt strange without realizing why—empty, like something was supposed to be there already.
don't be late, she had told him.
this is important.
he swallowed.
minutes passed. then more.
every time he heard footsteps, his head snapped up. every time it wasn't her, his stomach twisted tighter. he didn't know what he was more afraid of—that she would come, or that she wouldn't.
then—
"michael!"
her voice cut through the air like sunlight.
he stood so fast the bench nearly tipped.
she was running toward him, black mary janes clicking against the pavement, pink dress bouncing with every step. her hair was styled neatly like always, ribbon threaded through it perfectly, like she hadn't cried herself to sleep the night before.
she looked happy.
the sight hurt.
"you're early!" she said, beaming when she reached him. "you're never early!"
"...yeah," he said quietly.
her smile widened, as if she'd found something precious. "that means you care."
he didn't deny it.
they sat together, close but not touching, knees nearly brushing. kaiser kept his hands in his lap, fingers curling into his sleeves, grounding himself. he watched her out of the corner of his eye, memorizing everything—the way her hair caught the light, the faint smell of something sweet and expensive, the way her feet didn't quite touch the ground when she swung them.
she talked, of course. about the car that would take her to the airport. about how her nanny cried but then stopped because crying gave her a headache. about how planes were "basically just big birds, right?"
he listened to every word.
he didn't interrupt. didn't correct her. didn't laugh.
because this was the last time.
eventually, her voice slowed. she reached up, fingers brushing her hair, and then she paused like she'd just remembered something very important.
"oh!" she said. "wait. wait wait wait."
before he could ask what she was doing, she untied one of the pink ribbons from her hair. it slid free easily, the fabric soft and faintly warm from her skin.
she took his wrist gently.
he froze.
her hands were clean. too clean to be touching him. instinct screamed at him to pull away, to hide the dirt under his sleeves, but she didn't hesitate at all. she wrapped the ribbon around his wrist carefully, tongue poking out slightly as she tied it into a neat little bow.
"there," she said proudly.
he stared at it.
pink.
bright and impossible against his bruised skin and frayed sleeves.
"...what's that for?" he asked, though he already knew.
so he'd remember.
she nodded eagerly. "it's so you don't forget me!"
as if that was even possible.
she leaned closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. "as long as you have my ribbon, you'll be able to find me by my scent!"
he blinked.
"...your scent?"
"yeah!" she nodded again. "like dogs do!"
he was pretty sure that wasn't how that worked.
he was also pretty sure she didn't know that.
but he didn't say anything.
if she wanted him to find her by scent, then he would. he didn't care if it was stupid or impossible or something meant for animals instead of people. if that was the rule, he'd follow it.
when he was older.
when he was strong.
when he could finally leave.
"...okay," he said.
her face lit up like he'd just promised her the world.
they sat there until a black car pulled up at the edge of the park.
her smile faltered.
"that's me," she said softly.
his chest ached.
she stood, then hesitated, then threw her arms around him without warning. he stiffened for half a second before carefully hugging her back, hands hovering awkwardly like he was afraid to break her.
"don't forget," she said into his shoulder. "you promised."
"...i won't," he murmured.
she pulled back, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, then waved brightly as she walked away. she didn't look back.
kaiser watched until the car disappeared.
only then did he look down at his wrist.
the ribbon fluttered slightly in the breeze.
he closed his hand around it.
wait for me, he thought fiercely.
and for the first time in his life, michael kaiser believed he had something worth chasing.
the next day felt wrong the moment kaiser woke up.
there was no voice waiting for him in the park. no pink ribbon fluttering in someone else's hair. no bag of food he hadn't earned or stolen or bled for. just the same cracked ceiling above him, the same smell of alcohol and old sweat and disappointment pressing into his lungs.
he lay still on the floor for a long time, staring upward, listening.
his father was awake.
that was how he knew the day would be bad.
the man's footsteps dragged across the apartment, uneven and heavy, followed by the scrape of a chair and the sharp clink of a bottle hitting the table. kaiser didn't move. he kept his breathing shallow, his body small. he had learned young how to make himself disappear.
eventually, the footsteps moved away.
only then did he sit up.
his wrist felt warm.
he looked down.
the pink ribbon was still there.
tied a little crooked now, the bow slightly loosened from sleep, but unmistakably bright against his skin. for a brief, stupid moment, his chest tightened with something like hope—like maybe if he went to the park anyway, she would be there, swinging her legs and smiling like nothing had changed.
he knew better.
still, he touched the ribbon carefully, like it might vanish if he didn't.
then he stood.
the city didn't care that she was gone.
people still hurried past him in the streets. cars still honked. shops still opened. the bakery on the corner still smelled sweet in a way that made his stomach ache. kaiser stole because he had to, fingers quick and practiced, eyes always scanning for danger.
today, it felt emptier.
every bite of stolen food tasted like dust.
every alley felt longer.
by the time the sun climbed higher, he found himself walking toward the park without thinking.
the bench was empty.
he stood there for a while, staring at it like it might explain something to him if he looked long enough. this was where she should have been. this was where she always sat. the bench felt wrong without her weight on it, without crumbs and chatter and the faint scent of expensive perfume that didn't belong in a place like this.
he sat anyway.
habit was a cruel thing.
he waited.
minutes passed. then more.
no voice called his name.
his chest started to hurt in a way that felt unfamiliar. sharp and dull all at once. he clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms, and told himself not to be stupid. she had told him she was leaving. she had cried. she had kissed his cheek and tied a ribbon around his wrist like it was a promise instead of a goodbye.
she was gone.
he swallowed.
"she's not coming," he muttered to himself.
saying it out loud didn't make it easier.
eventually, he stood and left the park.
the rest of the day blurred together. his father yelled. bottles broke. kaiser learned how to duck faster, how to curl in on himself tighter. at some point, his father grabbed his wrist and froze.
"...what the hell is that?" the man slurred.
kaiser's heart slammed into his ribs.
the ribbon.
his father's fingers tightened painfully around his arm. "where'd you get this?" he demanded. "stealing from girls now, huh? stealing from rich brats?"
kaiser shook his head, teeth clenched. "no."
the word earned him a slap.
he hit the floor hard, ears ringing, but he didn't cry. he never did. crying only made things worse.
his father sneered. "worthless. can't even steal right."
kaiser waited until the man stumbled away again before he pushed himself up.
the ribbon was still there.
a little dirty now. a little darker.
he hid it under his sleeve after that.
that night, he lay awake, staring at the wall, replaying her voice in his head like a broken record.
you're quiet.
that's okay.
quiet people are smart.
like cats.
he didn't understand why those words hurt more now.
the next morning, he didn't go to the park.
the morning after that, he almost did—and then stopped himself halfway there, turning around sharply like he'd touched something hot. going back felt dangerous. stupid. hopeful in a way he couldn't afford.
but even when he stopped going, the park followed him.
every pink thing caught his eye. ribbons in shop windows. candy wrappers. a girl's dress fluttering in the distance. every time, his chest tightened before he could stop it.
he started combing his hair with his fingers in the mornings, tugging it into place like he'd seen other kids do. he didn't know why he bothered. no one was looking. no one cared.
except maybe—
he cut that thought off immediately.
thinking about her made him weak.
thinking about her made him angry.
thinking about her made him want things.
still, at night, when the apartment was quiet and his father finally passed out, kaiser would pull his sleeve back and look at the ribbon.
he'd imagine her in japan, surrounded by clean rooms and people who spoke softly to her. he imagined her forgetting him—because she forgot things easily, didn't she?
the thought made his chest burn.
"don't forget me," he whispered once, so quietly it barely existed.
he didn't know then that this emptiness would shape him.
that the absence of a dumb rich girl with pink ribbons would carve something sharp and relentless into his heart.
he only knew that something precious had been taken from him.
and one day, he would take it back.
bow divider link
next chapter
please read if you read any of my series!!
i have a few things to say just so people can stop flooding my messages.
so firstly, my 'sugar on bruises' fic was made specifically for my friend rather than for myself and she hasn't been very into kaiser lately and has been telling me the other characters she likes and would like me to write for. in other words, that fic was made for her and since she's not as interested i'm mostly likely going to leave the fic on hiatus or dicontinued sooner or later (or just going to leave it with a mini reunion and you can figure out how you want it to end with your own imagination).
secondly, i mainly write for my friends or personal interest so if i ever stop writing a fic chances are it's because me or my friends arent interested in the character/story anymore. so please don't bomb my dms with questions about me writing more of something or to pick it up again.
(this part is just an extra thing for you to know) my fics usually look more better on wattpad since i am a wattpad writer and i'm more used to writing short chapters and being able to choose how paragraphs look (the left, center, right thingy).
thanks for reading and please don't send me hate (yes i have gotten some over me not posting chapters consistently and saying i might put my kaiser fic on hiatus/dicontinued)
「 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐩𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 」
── .✦ in which reo only knows how to buy a way out, and for once it doesn't work. ⤷ word count: 1.2k | m.list ˎˊ˗
r. mikage
reo had always believed that wanting something meant reaching for it.
that was how life worked. if you wanted something badly enough, you found the resources, the leverage, the fastest path forward. it wasn’t arrogance—it was efficiency. money, connections, influence. tools were tools, and tools were meant to be used.
that belief had never failed him.
until he started dating y/n.
she sat across from him in the café, hands wrapped loosely around a porcelain cup she hadn’t touched in minutes. the place was one of reo’s favorites—quiet, tucked away behind glass walls and greenery, the kind of café that didn’t list prices on the menu because it assumed its customers didn’t need to ask. he’d brought her here before, always after arguments. it was familiar enough to be comforting, expensive enough to feel like an apology.
normally, it worked.
reo leaned back in his chair, posture relaxed, long legs crossed at the ankle. his uniform was immaculate as always—the tailored white shirt, the black-and-white checkered vest, the pristine shoes that never seemed to scuff no matter where he went. chin-length purple hair framed his face neatly, asymmetrical locks falling just enough to soften his sharp features. his purple eyes were bright, attentive, fixed entirely on her.
“so,” he said lightly, tone warm, practiced. “you wanna order first, y/n? they have that strawberry tart you liked last time.”
she didn’t answer.
reo blinked once, then smiled a little wider, unfazed. “or we could get something new. we can order a few things and share. whatever you want.”
still nothing.
y/n’s gaze was lowered, fixed on the table between them. on the small velvet box sitting there. she hadn’t put it down dramatically. she hadn’t slammed it or shoved it toward him.
she had simply placed it there. carefully. deliberately.
reo followed her line of sight.
for a moment, he didn’t understand.
the box was familiar. black velvet, subtle sheen. he’d picked it himself months ago, had it custom-fitted, custom-engraved. a promise ring—not a proposal, not yet, but something tangible. something solid. something that said i’m serious about you in a way words sometimes failed to.
“…what’s that doing there?” he asked, confused but not alarmed.
y/n finally moved.
she slid the ring out of the box and placed it on the table between them.
reo felt something in his chest shift.
the ring caught the café’s soft lighting, the stone glinting faintly. it looked smaller there, stripped of its meaning by the distance between them.
she pushed it closer to him with one finger.
“reo,” she said quietly, voice steady in a way that made his stomach tighten. “i want to break up.”
five words.
reo laughed.
it was automatic. reflexive. a soft, breathy sound that escaped him before he could stop it.
“what?” he said, still smiling. “c’mon. that’s not funny.”
y/n didn’t react.
reo’s smile faltered. just a little.
“…you’re serious?” he asked.
she nodded.
the café felt suddenly too quiet. reo became aware of everything—the faint clink of cutlery from another table, the hum of the espresso machine, the muted jazz playing overhead. it all felt distant, unreal.
he looked at the ring again.
then back at her.
then, instinctively, his mind shifted into problem-solving mode.
“…is it the ring?” he asked carefully. “i mean, i thought you liked simple stuff, but if you want something bigger—”
she shook her head.
“or different,” he continued, warming to the idea. “we can change the stone. diamond, sapphire, whatever your birthstone is. i can have it redone by next week.”
“reo,” she said, firmer now.
he paused.
“…or,” he added quickly, “we don’t have to do a ring at all. we can go somewhere instead. you said you wanted to see italy, right? or was it france? we could go during break—i’ll handle everything.”
her hands clenched in her lap.
“stop,” she said.
reo went quiet.
her voice wasn’t loud. it didn’t need to be. there was something in it—final, exhausted—that made him listen.
she lifted her head then, and he saw it. the redness around her eyes. the way she was holding herself together with sheer force of will.
“i don’t want another ring,” she said. “i don’t want a trip. i don’t want your black card.”
reo’s brow furrowed. “then what do you want?”
she laughed softly. it was a broken sound.
“that’s the problem,” she said. “you don’t know.”
his chest tightened.
“of course i do,” he said immediately. “you want to be happy. you want to feel secure. i can do that.”
“no,” she said. “you can buy that.”
the words landed heavier than he expected.
reo opened his mouth, then closed it.
she leaned forward slightly, eyes burning now, tears threatening but unshed. “every time we fight, you do this. you throw money at it. you think if you make it shiny enough, i’ll forget why i was hurt in the first place.”
“that’s not fair,” he said, sharper than intended.
“isn’t it?” she asked.
he faltered.
“reo, i don’t want things,” she said, voice cracking despite herself. “i wanted you. i wanted you to listen. to understand why i was upset instead of trying to make it disappear.”
he swallowed.
“i was trying to fix it,” he said.
“you were trying to end it,” she replied. “there’s a difference.”
the words hurt because they were true.
reo ran a hand through his hair, frustration creeping in. “i don’t see why this has to be such a big deal. couples fight. this is normal.”
“what’s not normal,” she said quietly, “is feeling like i’m dating your wallet instead of you.”
that did it.
something inside him cracked.
“…that’s not fair,” he repeated, voice lower now. “you know i care about you.”
“do i?” she asked.
he stared at her, stunned.
“because sometimes,” she continued, tears finally spilling over, “it feels like you think i’m just another thing you can afford.”
the words cut deep.
reo stood abruptly, chair scraping softly against the floor. “that’s not true,” he said, eyes flashing. “i wouldn’t—”
“wouldn’t what?” she asked, standing too. “replace me?”
he froze.
she wiped her cheeks roughly, shaking her head. “i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep begging you to love me in a way that doesn’t come with a price tag.”
his heart pounded painfully in his chest.
“y/n,” he said, voice breaking despite himself. “i can change.”
she hesitated.
just for a second.
she looked at him then, really looked. at the boy she had loved. at the familiar curve of his smile, the intensity in his eyes, the way his presence still made her heart stumble traitorously in her chest.
she felt the tug. the urge to take it back. to sit down, to apologize, to let him buy her another pretty distraction and pretend it was enough.
she crushed it.
“…i don’t believe you,” she said softly.
and that hurt more than anything else.
she picked up her bag, hands shaking, and stepped around the table. reo reached out instinctively, fingers brushing her sleeve.
“wait,” he said. “please. i can fix us.”
she paused.
didn’t turn around.
“…you shouldn’t have to,” she said.
then she walked away.
reo stood there, frozen, watching her retreating figure blur through the café’s glass walls. he didn’t chase her. didn’t call out again.
he just stood there, staring at the ring still lying on the table.
for the first time in his life, mikage reo had no idea how to buy back something he’d lost.
and that was what broke him.
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