Near Escape
Dark!Michael Kaiser x reader
Word Count: 2.5k
Kaiser always liked messing with you, but you didn't think he’d take things so far.
(Warnings: noncon kissing, noncon touching, threats, power imbalances, yandere)
Working for Bastard München was a dream come true.
You’d been a soccer fan all throughout your life. You even played a bit in high school, though your talent never got you far. Nevertheless, your passion for the game lasted all throughout middle school, high school, and college. It was how you got to work for one of the greatest teams across the globe.
Seeing Noel Noa in person nearly made you faint, but your fellow managers kindly assured you it was a pretty common feeling. That was another thing you enjoyed about the league: everyone was so nice and friendly.
Except for one person.
The coach blew out the final whistle just as the ball flew into the net. The practice game was over, and there was one clear winner. Kaiser’s grin was feral as his team crowded around him, celebrating his amazing shot. It was an incredible play; you could hardly believe he pulled it off. Despite your reservations about the guy, he was incredible on the field.
You wish he could just stay on it forever.
The team gathers on the sidelines to take their much-deserved breaks. You’re quick to get to work, trailing behind the other managers as they begin to pass out towels and water bottles to the players. You make a beeline to Ali. He’s the biggest talker on the team; everyone hates being near him once he gets going. Maybe if you can get Ali to ramble about birds or something, he might not be too keen on bothering you.
He steps in front of you. You nearly collide with his chest. He’s so tall, you have to crane your neck up just to look him in the eyes. You think that he especially enjoys that. His blue eyes sharpen with delight.
Kaiser tilts his head. “Got anything for me?”
You look down at the water bottle and towel in your hands. Accepting defeat, you hand them over. His fingers brush over yours deliberately. As always, Kaiser makes a show of it. He languidly wipes at his neck and face. He downs the water like it’s liquid gold. Just when you’re about to attend to the next player, he snaps his fingers.
Reluctantly, you look back at him.
“Thanks.” He tosses you the towel. You barely manage to catch it.
He pats your shoulder just before he passes you. “What would I do without our sweet little manager.”
His tone is so condescending that you feel yourself heat up from embarrassment. Out of all the team managers, you’re the only one he calls that.
Players aren’t supposed to return towels to managers; they’re supposed to put them in the bin. Kaiser, however, treats you more like his servant than as your actual job title suggests. You have to ball up your anger as you trek to the rag bin.
One of your fellow managers gives you a sympathetic smile. You toss the dirty rag and grab another water bottle.
“That bad, hm?” She asks.
“No, just the usual amount of shitty.” You mutter.
“He’ll get better,” she tries to assure. “He just needs a bit more time, since you’re new and all.”
Yeah, more time.
They’ve been saying that for the past year and a half.
You’re not sure why Kaiser has a hyperfixation on you. You’re pretty average, all things considered. Despite your normalcy, Kaiser has made it his personal mission to whittle you down.
Everyone has acknowledged his behavior as abnormal. He’s never picked on any of the non-players of the team. He used to pretend they never existed until you came along.
He’d make jabs at your clothes, ghost touches that lingered on inappropriate if he was any slower, and that dreaded title: ‘sweet, little manager’.
“Ignore it.” Another fellow manager comes up to tell you. “He’ll stop eventually.”
You shrug. You glance out the corner of your eye.
Kaiser’s already staring at you. His grin is infuriating.
“Yeah,” you say, “eventually.”
~
You’ve talked to Noel Noa twice in your life.
First: the day you got hired.
Second: the day you turned in your resignation.
He’s still staring long after you stopped rambling. His stare is so heavy, practically crushing you, and yet you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Even as he studies you from his chair, he still feels bigger than you.
He’d stepped down from playing a couple years ago, but even as head coach of the team, he’s yet to lose his intimidating stature.
“Are you sure about this?” He finally asks,
Noa has yet to glance at the slip you dropped on his desk. You drafted your resignation letter with a bold black pen and the neatest handwriting you could. He barely acknowledged it.
“I am.” You tell him. “Thank you for the opportunity. I’ll forever be grateful for all the experience I learned from this team.”
It sounds rehearsed because it is rehearsed. You practiced in the mirror, mouthing the words over and over so you wouldn’t flail in front of Noel Noa.
He only tilts his head, scanning you up and down. You wonder what he’s searching for.
“Did anything particular happen that made you want to resign?” He prompts.
You think of blonde hair with bright blue tips. A blue rose.
“No.” You smile with tight lips. “Nothing at all.”
He doesn’t believe you. You can tell.
“It’s a shame to see you go.” He says anyway, standing up and reaching out his hand. “You were a wonderful asset for this team.”
“Thank you so much, Sir.”
You shake his hand with all the confidence you can muster. You loved this team. You really did.
But it wasn’t worth it.
He wasn’t worth it.
~
When you leave the office, you aren’t surprised to find Kaiser waiting for you.
He’s leaned against the wall, watching with sharp eyes as you continue to stare at the ground. Stupidly, you hope that if you continue to ignore him, he might not try to start anything.
If anything, that makes him more eager.
“Hey hey.” He grabs your arm, forcing you to stop. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Your lips curl into a sneer, but you’re forcing it back down.
“Kaiser, I have work.” Your voice is quiet even to your own ears. It prompts Kaiser to lean down closer to your face.
“Hm? What’d you say?” His grin is even wider.
You try to pull away, but he’s crowding you against the wall, lightly pushing at you. You're forced to take a step back, then another, then another until your back hits the tile.
“I don’t have time for this.” You say, just as quiet. The bite in your words is mute. He relishes this. Kaiser grins, showing white teeth that glint.
“Aw, C’mon.” He mockingly pouts and you bite your lip. “You were in the coach's office for a while. I was getting worried.” He cocks his head, assessing you.
“You didn’t get in trouble or anything, did you?”
“No,” you say firmly, “Stop it. I need to go–”
“Go where?” He prods, and you feel his hand rest on your upper thigh, daring to creep up.
You freeze.
He’s saying something else, but all you can think of is his fingers drifting over your thigh. He gives a firm squeeze.
“Get the fuck off me.”
You push him away. He stumbles back. It’s not strength that gets him off of you. Your burst of anger just surprised him. He’s used to your meekness, willingness to be pushed around. You use it to your advantage, immediately turning away before he can say anything else.
He doesn’t follow. You don’t hear the second echo of footsteps as you walk off. Relief singes at your fingers.
Just for a moment, just for a peek, you glance back.
He’s still standing right where you left him.
His smile is gone.
~
For the next few days, things are strangely peaceful.
There’s no more beratement from Kaiser. You never suffered any more unwanted touches or annoying quips. It was like you were completely erased from his world.
You weren’t complaining. For the first time in a while, you actually looked forward to working with the entire soccer team, rather than just huddling with the other non-players. It was a nice change of pace.
It’s a shame the change only happened right when you were leaving.
A few days before you officially left, your little team of managers promised you a farewell party. You were looking forward to it. One last hurrah with your co-workers before you move into a new section of your life.
Things were finally looking up.
After hours, the club is pretty quiet. Most players just want to shower and go right home. You know, some like to stay behind to do a little more practice, but this is mostly when staff use the time to reorganize locker rooms and such.
You like working alone. Someone else was with you earlier, but you’d kindly waved her off, insisting you could handle it. It was less than an official storage room and more of a closet. You stood in front of the equipment, your trusty clipboard in hand. Someone mentioned that the team was running low on some items. You might have to edit some orders if they were true.
Loud footsteps echo behind you. You pay them no mind. Probably a coach. A player who’d forgotten their bag.
They stop right behind you. You don’t even bother to look.
“I’ll be just a second.” You tell them, assuming they wanted to set up some cones for last-minute drills.
“You’re leaving?”
Your fingers tighten on the clipboard.
Slowly, you turn to look at Kaiser. He’s still in his uniform. The smell of sweat and rubber is faint in the air. His breaths are slow as he glares down at you. Your eyes trail to his hand.
Your resignation letter is crumpled in his hand.
Something keeps strumming through your arms and legs. You want to fidget: shake your leg, flex your fingers. You feel nervous, though you aren’t sure why.
“Yes.” You respond as curtly as you can. “But that’s none of your business–”
“The fuck it is.” He crowds you, forcing you to back up into the storage room.
You’ve seen Kaiser angry before. On the field, or with his teammates. Never at you. There’s no reason to be angry at you. In his world, you barely exist.
Kaiser wasn’t angry.
That’d be too tame a word to describe him.
His blue eyes almost glow with the way he looks at you. Kaiser has always forced you to feel many things: embarrassment, discomfort, anger, and frustration.
Not fear. Never fear.
Until now, at least.
“You think you can just run from me?” He asks, but you don’t think he’s talking to you. His voice sounds rampant, unfocused. “You think there’s somewhere you can escape to? That I’d just let you walk away from me?”
The way he speaks makes something awful grow into the pit of your stomach. His tone is vile, possessive, and something else you’d rather not name. You feel small, like you’re a toy a child is no longer allowed to play with anymore.
You open your mouth, and then his lips are on yours.
There’s no softness, no gentleness. Kaiser is nothing but harsh and full of teeth. By the time you’re able to pull away, your lips are sore and bitten.
He lets you stumble back, reaching up to wipe your blood off his lips.
You should’ve taken that time to run, but you can’t. Your feet feel like they’re cemented into the ground as you continue to stare at him. Your lips sting. Something burns across your face as he advances forward.
You should’ve run. Even as he shut the door behind you two with a final thud, you knew that.
The tiny sliver of light barely gives you a glimpse of his figure before you feel him against your chest, shoving you against the wall.
“What are you doing?” It’s all you can say, all you can think. “Kaiser–what–what are you doing–”
“It’s my fault,” he says, but it sounds more like he’s talking to himself than talking to you, listening to the words form in his mouth. “I was too lenient on you. Everyone else saw it, and I thought that was enough.”
There’s a click of his tongue. “It’s clear you need to have some things spelled out for you.”
Fingers crudely snap in your face. You flinch, trying to back up against the wall, but there’s nowhere to run. Maybe that was the case from the first moment he saw you.
“Here’s how things are gonna go: You aren’t leaving. You are never leaving me. The minute you try, I’m dragging you right back kicking and screaming.”
You wordlessly stare back at him. Kaiser isn’t finished.
“If you want to try, I’ll make you understand just how hard things will get for you.”
The threat is clear and laced with venom that stings. You stop breathing, but your timid fear isn’t enough for Kaiser.
He leans into your space, lips right at your ear.
“Do you understand?”
Something about his tone makes your body snap up at attention. You close your eyes and nod, pressing yourself further up against the wall.
“Okay.” You find yourself saying. “I–I won’t….okay.”
You keep your eyes closed until you no longer feel him breathing down your neck. Even then, he doesn’t let up on his closeness. Strangely, his presence feels smaller, like he’s slowly calming down. You can still feel the rage emanating from his body, but the heat is a bit more bearable.
“Better.” He tells you. You flinch as he lightly pats your cheek, like you were some rowdy mutt.
“There’s this new restaurant that just opened up. It's too Americanized for me, but the food’s pretty good. Wanna go?”
You blink at him. He’s back to how he acted just hours ago, slightly leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, casual with the slightest hint of a playful tease.
How was he so casual about this? Why was he so unafraid? The minute you got out of here you planned on reporting him until he got arrested. You should have done that weeks ago, but why was he so confident you wouldn’t.
You glance down at his shoes. Yours were cheap, but you took care of them as much as you could. You wanted them to last. His were rugged and muddy and barely held together, but the brand was expensive. It probably cost an entire month of your salary. He’d easily buy another pair.
Ah, that was why.
That’s why the other managers brushed off his harsh words even though they edged on harassment. That’s why you still hesitate to say anything even though you desperately want to. You’re just a Pawn on the chessboard.
Kaiser is the King.
When you give a wordless nod, Kaiser preens, satisfied. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, jostling you to his side as he drags you out of the suffocating closet. You shrink under his hold, reluctantly following along as his head dips into the crook of your neck.
“Should’ve done this sooner. Everything's so much easier now that you understand,” he says, his voice muffled by your neck.
“After all, what would I do without my sweet, little manager.”