It's a horrible habit he has, and he's knows it's bad, but God, even knowing that doesn't stop him.
It doesn't stop how his eyes are naturally drawn towards you, how they pick you apart from a noisy crowd, how they fix solely on you and how they linger with an afterthought — bathing in the warmth of your radiance without any intentions of pulling away.
It's gotten so bad, so bad that even his old man's noticed.
He tries to be slick, keyword here being tries, because his endeavours are embarrassingly futile in the presence of his ever observant grandfather.
Jotaro can lower his hat to sneak a quick peak at you, demeanour poised with mock apathy as he threatens — empty threats — to hit you every time you ran your mouth with whatever bullshit you were constantly spouting on about, but he wasn't fooling anyone.
Especially not Joseph.
The older man was a veteran when it came to peeping after all, there was no way someone like him wouldn't notice.
And the boy is left to curse his luck, that of all people to catch him in the shameful act of gawking, it had to be his geezer. A loud-mouthed moron, who just wouldn't let him, or anyone else for that matter, hear the end of it.
His old age, something that's supposed to grant him wisdom, is practically out of the window when he teases Jotaro with obnoxious air kisses and winks of encouragement. The geezer acts like a fucking kid, finding some kind of sick and cruel enjoyment in his grandson's torment.
"Take a picture, Jotaro! It'll last longer that way!"
It's honest advice, Jotaro can begrudgingly admit. A line he's heard far more times than he can count, often accompanied with the offer of a free camera to pursue his dreams, but nevermind how frequent it may be, it always startles the absolute shit out of him.
And whilst he wants to do nothing more than deny the very true claims, Jotaro knows that reacting to his irritant's taunts will only give him away. So he reluctantly ignores them with an angry huff, discretely turning away from you, knowing damn well his gaze will miraculously find a way to wander its way back— back to you.
How could they not?
When you're sitting right beside him, all pretty with your hair pinned back, rambling on about whatever nonsense has caught your recent interest, your eyes bright like morning sunlight as you gesture about animatedly, none the wiser to his lingering stares.
It's a sight that has his stomach queasy and his head spin, something he desperately wishes to frame and commit to his memory so he can later look back on fondly like the sentimental fool that he is.
The boy quickly realises, that he's a lot like common molas — a fish known for their sunbathing behaviour — and that you, you are a lot like the sun. Dazzling and brilliant as you talk his ear off, something he has no problem with hearing despite his countless 'shut the fuck up's, that are actually his questionable way of saying 'keep going', 'continue', and 'don't stop talking'.
And just like his grandpa advised, Jotaro really wants to take photos of you. To immortalise your vibrant smiles, and to capture your vibrant-er expressions, but expecting a guy who's never played video games to know how to use a camera… might be asking for the impossible.
Sure, he could probably figure it out quickly, it's just pressing a couple of buttons— but, holding a camera in broad daylight, angling the device right and capturing the perfect shot isn't exactly the dictionary definition of discrete, is it now?
Jotaro would rather dig a hole, crawl in it and die before exposing himself for who he really is in front of you.
So, being the innovative man that he is, he decides to approach the problem differently.
If he can't take pictures of you, then surely, he can just have star platinum draw you, right?
And he does.
Jotaro keeps a pocket sized sketchbook with him at all times, pulling it out whenever you've taken away his breath — unsurprisingly all the time — and keeping it out of your sight as his stand got to work.
It's the same today as well.
You've somehow managed to drag him to a nearby cafe again, by his arm and against his will, dismissive of his obvious refusal — a barely audible 'tch', and an even quieter 'good grief' that translates to his compliance.
And you're sitting before him in your full glory. Face framing strands effortlessly tucked behind your ear, the shorter strands pinned back with a star clip, cough, courtesy of star platinum who'd snuck it into your pocket when you weren't looking.
Your face is completely visible to Jotaro — just the way he likes, because that makes staring all the more easier to do — and you're happily devouring the strawberry shortcake in front of you, speaking a mile a minute after each bite as he took short sips of his tea. Something you offered to pay for, an offer he agreed to with a careless shrug because sneaking money into your pocket via star platinum was no difficult feat.
Maybe that's why you look so pleased today, because you're under the blissful impression that you're the one treating him when that isn't the case at all…
Jotaro sighs with slight amusement, filing away the information for future use as his intense stare returned back to you, hidden under the brim of his ragged hat that he made a point to adjust. He leaned back on his chair, discretely digging out the sketchbook from his pocket and keeping it out of your sight atop his thigh.
Nimble fingers move with the expertise of a repeated felon, opening up the sketchpad to a new page, a sign for star platinum to emerge behind him and take the reigns. The stand wordlessly adheres to his will, gripping a pencil with practised ease as it began sketching the basic outlines of your features.
The blank page is quickly filled up with your presence, the soft curve of your moving lips, the gentle slope of your nose, and your starry eyes that are wide and bright with endless curiosity — all drawn with the kind of effort only born from quiet devotion.
Jotaro's quiet devotion.
After all, the stand is a manifestation of his soul, and his soul is always in a state of reverence— always revering the beauty you carry effortlessly.
Star platinum gets close to you on occasion, particularly when it came to capturing the fine details of your lashes and your stray hairs, before returning back to the drawing with blinding speed and flawless precision.
It doesn't take long before his stand hands him the pencil, a silent announcement of the picture's completion, urging the boy to shut the sketchbook close and return it back to its rightful home, in his pocket and close to him.
A rush of thrill overwhelms him, and there's even an uncharacteristic bounce in his leg as his thoughts drift to his evening plans, where he meticulously goes through each drawing before sleeping, and admires them all with his ardent affections.
The excitement bleeds through, it's infectious, even star platinum's affected by his anticipation, spurring his stand to float back to you, right by your side to continue its quiet worship that take the form of intent staring.
And at times like this, Jotaro has never been more glad for your inability to see stands. He seriously didn't know what he'd do if you could see them, that would mean you knew about his staring problem this whole time, and the thought is painfully humilia—
"Hey, Jotaro?"
Your voice, soft and mellifluous, put a pause to his haywire thoughts, pulling him from his short-lived relief.
"…What?" His voice is clipped, and there's a tick in his brow as he guards you with a fierce glare. It's obviously a ruse, he's never truly annoyed at you, but pretending to be so gives him another chance to stare at you.
"I've been wondering about this for a while now..." You start off with uncertainty, lips pursing with wonder, a movement he follows deeply with wandering eyes as your gaze slowly drifted to your left, where star platinum has made itself very comfortable beside you.
"What's this purple entity that constantly follows you around? It's staring at me real hard right now."
"Cough—!"
His reaction is instant.
Jotaro positively chokes on his tea.
His large frame shaking as he hacks up the hot liquid he'd been consuming at leisure's pace. The beverage spills from the sudden movement, and Jotaro hisses when it drenches his pants. Not from the pain, but rather because the spill dangerously nears his pocket that housed his prized possession — the sketchbook filled with drawings of you.
Though you don't know that, obviously you don't!
So you, being the moron that you are, immediately pounce him with worry that is unneeded. Your hands fly to him with celerity, one's running across his back in soothing motions as the other grabs a hold of his trembling hand.
The concern in your eyes is evident, and it knocks the wind out of him, weakening the strength in his knees that hold him upright. And it's really no help that you touch him with featherlight tenderness, your perfume invading his senses and sending him overdrive.
"Are you— are you okay?!"
"Tch, g-get off— hic," He stammers, trying to pull you off of him as heat spread across his ears in a guilty shade of flustered pink. "Get off me, bitch!"
first jjba fic... hello world... i'm on part 4 currently... taking a break tho and watching dr stone bc last ep is approaching soon </3
ANYWAY, I HOPE YALL ENJOY EHEHHE, @saintly11x THIS IS FOR U ML!!!!!
michael kaiser who realises the process of mehndi is unfairly long and decides to use this fact to his advantage so he can spend more time with you.
"It looks like shit."
It took an immense amount of willpower not to unleash your rage onto the potty-mouthed man beside you.
You tried, God, you really did, to not let his comments bother you from what was supposed to be a de-stressing activity — doing your own henna — but with the way he leaned into your proximity, playing the fool to your growing irritation, it may as well have been a useless endeavour.
"Looks so shitty."
The man clearly has nothing fucking better to do, why else would he be so adamant on raising your blood pressure and spiking your cortisol levels?
"When are you going to stop putting shit on your hand?"
Now, comes the quiet clinginess.
It's clear he's had a long day of training and wanted nothing more than to spend the evening in your presence, but you're very clearly busy at the moment! Can he not see that?!
"It's not shit." You speak after a moment of contemplation, huffing lightly as you continued to apply the brown paste onto your hand. "It's mehndi, y'know?"
Pleased to finally hear your voice, Kaiser lets out a small hum of acknowledgement and nuzzles into your shoulder like a spoiled little house cat. His fur, or in this case, his two-toned hair, tickles your neck all the way up to your chin, serving as nothing more than an exasperating distraction to your thinly hanging patience.
"Hurry up." He urges, his frustration bleeding through his expression much like yours. And yet, even as he makes his displeasure evident, he tries to stay as still as possible.
"Can't," you sigh as you glance at him from the corner of your eyes. "It'll take me a while to finish, and then I'll have to wait some more till it's dry before I can do anything."
You expect him to throw a fit, a couple of curses to articulate his annoyance, but much to your surprise, he doesn't. Kaiser just stares at the intricate patterns on your hand, his pretty eyes blank and faraway — a telling sign he's using his fried brain cell to form a thought.
The sight is unfairly cute, it has your heart clench and fills you with vigour to finish quickly, but before you can even continue, he says something that has your mouth gape.
"…Do mine." He mumbles quietly, and it's so soft that you almost miss it, but the small flush of heat that spreads across his ears give him away.
"It'll take a while." You warn as you fight back a small smile, excited to hear him show interest in the beauty of your culture.
"Don't care."
Even if it took an eternity, Kaiser didn't think he'd mind, especially not if it meant being in the presence of your gentle warmth.
And that's how you find yourself in your current predicament.
You're perched all comfortable on Kaiser's lap — apparently, because according to him, it would give you 'easier' access to his arm without sending him into a fit of rage from your constant movements. Though you know it's merely a way for him to have you close without having to be direct!
His left arm is wrapped tight around your waist, and his chin rests snugly in the crook of your neck as you apply the henna paste with careful precision and meticulous effort. Your labour is intently observed by the man, omniscient eyes tracing the elaborate patterns that adorn the expanse of his skin with quiet acknowledgement and hushed approval.
And when you occasionally break the sweet silence that he basks in, by asking if he likes what you've drawn so far or if he has any inputs with regards to the design, Kaiser is quick to shush you, urging you to just copy the design you've done to yourself because it'll be 'quicker' to finish and because he doesn't really 'give a shit' if it ends up looking 'shitty'.
For some odd reason, the athlete has trouble telling you that he so badly wants to match with you, but because you're more than used to reading his cryptic mind, you heed to his wishes in the same way he wordlessly does to yours when you ask him to keep still or hold his arm a certain position.
Kaiser, despite being the spoiled little princess he is, doesn't utter a word of complaint when you fold his arm in inhumane ways. Even if he knows he'll end up with a cramp from the uncomfortable position later on, he realises, that he'd rather be the one to suffer than be a genuine annoyance to you.
Your stray hairs are bothering you and blocking your sight?
Kaiser's free hand is moving to tuck them behind your ear before you can huff to express your annoyance.
Your hips or lower back is aching from the strain of your exertion?
Again, his free hand's wandering with intent, pressing firm pressure to the area of your frustration and easing the pain away before you can process what he's doing.
Your endeavours continue, the design that had once started off as a small circle has bloomed into an intricate and explosive artwork of traditional motifs. His arm is decorated with mandalas, lotus flowers, paisleys, a collection of veins and leaves and a few other things he can't name.
It's all so beautiful, he thinks to himself, heart heavy with reverence. And Kaiser is left at a loss for words, his attention split between you who has fallen asleep mid-drawing and your illustrations that sing of your devotion towards him.
He stays still for a good moment, revelling in the sweet warmth your body released in quiet waves. Kaiser wants nothing more than to bottle the soft rhythm of your heartbeat, a noise that reminds him of his humanity and gives him life.
You, give him life— something to live for.
The man slowly pulls the henna cone out of your hand, placing it a far distance away from you along with the tissue that you'd used to wipe the excess of the mehndi off on.
He then gently holds your precious hand in his calloused ones, admiring the large strength it holds despite its small size. Your fingers are slightly swollen from the strain they were previously under, and the pads of them are stained orange from how you'd use them to wipe away any mistakes you were displeased with — something he never quite understood.
Because everything you drew looked sublime in his sight.
Kaiser stares at your fingers with glazed eyes, his thoughts filled with the many breaks you'd taken because your hand felt like it was 'going to spasm apart'. A pang of guilt grows in his stomach, and without further consideration, he's pressing your hand against his lips.
He returns your efforts with his quiet worship. Soft and chaste kisses mar the back of your knuckles, the pads of your stained fingers, before they linger on your palm with profound veneration.
For the little boy in him hopes ardently that his affections heal all of your many wounds.
heheheheheheheh for my south asian brown girls heheheeh, but this is veryyyyy self indulgent, also gave up halfway bc i got hungry, meow
itoshi rin's inner monologue as he mourns the loss of his ni-chan, the number one nicest in the world… D,: he’s not dead btw just metaphorically lol
itoshi sibling angst — 2.2k
“One kind word can warm three winter months.”
The Japanese proverb was well liked amongst its folks, carrying a meaning so self-explanatory, it required only but minimal effort to understand.
What a bunch of lukewarm bullshit.
Rin himself didn’t particularly hate proverbs. They were a good literacy device, and being the ‘old soul’ he was, a trait acquired from being the kin of his big brother, there were days where these adages were a means of catharsis for the young Itoshi; something that helped him revisit his past feelings of sorrow and rage.
However, this fact did not, by any means, indicate that he was overly fond of them either.
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
It was an English dictum he became familiar with, one he’d come to know from all the restless evenings of studying the language. Rin knew better than anyone how the ability to communicate with foreign athletes was a necessary skill when playing on an international level.
It was something that had briefly crossed him mind when his big brother had left for Spain.
How must it have been? How did it feel?
A young teen— a child, suddenly thrown in an unknown country, surrounded by unknown strangers who spoke an unknown tongue.
Rin wondered how Sae had managed it, but the boy didn’t dwell on the thought for long. Rin trusted Sae, his big brother. They didn’t need to communicate to empathise with the other. They were brothers, brothers who shared the same blood and as a result, were innately gifted with unspoken understanding of one another.
But Rin trusted his big brother.
So what happened to ni-chan's trust in me?
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
When Rin had first come across the phrase, his heart soared with delight, swelling so deeply with pride, he thought it may burst at the seams.
Sae wasn’t his father, nor his mother.
Sae was his big brother— his ni-chan. And in some peculiar way, his parent.
Sae who always nursed and treated Rin’s cuts and bruises, never berating him for his otherwise troublesome actions, rather, cradling tenderly the hurting heart of his little brother.
Sae who never failed to buy Rin ice cream after every game, whether it was a win or a loss, they quietly enjoyed the other’s presence over a cool treat.
Sae was never absent in Rin’s life. Sae was a constant that promised to always be by the side of his little brother— his baby brother— for as long he lived.
There was a time when Rin had curiously inquired why it was always ice cream— the twin lolly they shared together and not anything else.
And Sae, with his blunt, curt, and aloof demeanour had mentioned something about how the hormone that led to stress often decreased when people ate something sweet. Rin would absentmindedly nod along to the words of his big brother, whatever Sae said was his gospel, there was no point doubting it. Simply no merit in doing something so unnecessary.
Because Rin knew deeply within his soul, eating ice cream with his big brother was a form of consolation— sae’s constipated way of consoling him.
So, the plain notion of him having similar characteristics to his big brother, his ni-chan who was the number one nicest in the whole world, and though the thought may much as well be considered blasphemous, Rin couldn’t help but drown in the surge of elation that burned in his heart.
From then on, Rin had mistakenly, like a fool blissfully nescient of his dooming end, claimed so impetuously that he loved proverbs — this one in particular, the one of apples and trees being the highest in his list of favourites.
But that was before Sae had returned from Spain. Before Rin’s life turned upside down. Before his world flipped over and came crashing down on him.
So suddenly— heavily.
Unforgivingly.
And now, eternally cursed with the uncanny resemblance of that wretched man, the mere reflection of himself had him reeling back. A scowl adorned with something in between disgust and fury painting his haunting features in their hideous hue. Even in his rare expressions, Rin came to the spurning realisation that Sae, his big brother, will forever haunt him.
For as long as Rin lives, Sae, just like he promised, will forever be by his side.
The bygone days when the both were once ‘brothers’, when they both had so much in common will remain forever. Even now, despite that night of snow— the fateful day where nothing would be the same again, despite it all, they will forever share their similarities.
They, however, will never share the same dream again.
The young boy who wanted to be warmly embraced by his big brother upon the latter’s return will ceaselessly remember the cruel, loathing and disavowing words of his ni-chan — the number one nicest in the whole world.
That night of snow, Rin let himself pitifully accept winter’s sympathy. Nature’s frigid air encased him, its hiemal hold meticulously freezing the warmth that inspirited his heart, though not his soul — for that innate kindness would always remain somewhere, unaware of when to resurface.
Rin didn’t avoid its biting presence like he usually would’ve. Usually, there would’ve been no need for the world’s futile affection, not when he solely had his big brother’s.
But— but now, he didn’t even have that anymore. He no longer had his brother’s affection. Not anymore.
“….”
Itoshi Rin hated proverbs.
He hated the English proverb about ‘the apple falling from the tree’. The young boy could no longer remember it correctly, a thing that came to be after he forced himself to forget something that used to be such a pivotal belief at some point in his life.
But even more so, he particularly hated this one Japanese proverb.
“One kind word can warm three winter months.”
Jaw taut, he blankly peered at the words before him. The aphorism largely painted with black ink on some discolouring banner. Each complex characters in the phrase standing proudly against the other. Every brushstroke meticulous and precise, finely drawn with a degree of sublimity that couldn’t help but draw in Rin’s elusive attention.
Rin hated calligraphy, finding the activity to be arguably the most pointless thing to ever come to existence — totally not because he was shit at it himself. But even an avid, faultfinding, captious critic like himself couldn’t triumph against the human instinct to stop and to admire the piece.
No, he shook his head discontentedly. It wasn’t the penmanship that had him rapt, rather, it was the amalgam of words themselves that had gutted him hard in the stomach.
Chewing the bottom of his lip, he stared- no, glared at the symbols decorating the pennant. Internally nitpicking all the noticeable blemishes of the art piece that hung arrogantly on the railing, no mercy shown against the boy’s strict scrutiny.
And in spite of his pathetic attempts of asserting his dominance against an inanimate piece of decor, the epigram remained unaffected. Rather, it relentlessly glowered back at him. Standing high and smarmy, mocking him and his lukewarm situation.
And Rin, a mortal being, weak and feeble against perennial words, fell victim to its means of catharsis.
And possibly at the worst time ever.
Why now?! Damn it!
Eyes burning and throat congesting with an unidentified lump of melancholy, he swallowed with struggle and frantically searched for an escape in this foreign building. Desperately and boyishly, his head turned left, right, then left again, then behind him and back to his front, all in search for a glowing green light with a man in a running stance.
An exit.
Brows furrowing at the route he need to take to get away from here, somewhere far away and against the leering eyes of his peers, his legs moved with intent. Hasty and hurried, Rin, an athlete trained to be fast on his feet, stumbled on thin air, tripping over memories of the past that clawed at his heart persistently.
Narrowly avoiding all the other students leisurely passing by, he tried to stabilise his ragged breathing. An action he’d come to realise was for nought when it didn’t do much to improve his lousy predicament.
And with no proper haven in mind to rest his haywire heart, Rin was entirely consumed with his consuming thoughts.
If Sae— if his big brother— if ni-chan had said one, just one kind word to me on that night of snow, would they have kept me warm for three months of winter?
It was something that Rin had frequently ruminated about. But no, instead, Sae, that damn bastard of a shitty brother, had to just go and spout not one, but a myriad of hateful words to him.
Would it have killed him to say something nice? Argh—! No… No! Dammit.. Damn it all! Forget him! Forget everything!
Now, with not one but a plethora of virulent remarks to remember his beloved ni-chan by, how many months will those callous words keep him cold for?
If one kind word can warm up three winter months, how many months will be cold from one unkind word? Definitely more than three since unpleasant information was often always recalled with a greater sense of vividness than pleasant information. And thus, how many more months of cold will Rin have to further endure to be able to finally move on?
I’ve lost count…
The gelidity nipped at the pallor of his skin, dyeing his opaline complexion a feverish tint of coral, and if he felt the abrupt drop in temperature now that he was out of the school building, he didn’t let it show in his countenance.
Perhaps, Rin couldn’t feel the bleak pang from the weather because he’d already been numb long ago from Sae’s unkind words.
“….”
It was however, when a speck of white invaded his peripheral vision, that he realised how chilly his surroundings had gotten.
Rin’s bottom lip wobbled, he was shivering from the cold, he told himself, definitely not from inhibiting his tears. And then his eyes swelled with an all too familiar fluid. They were just a reflex response to the incoming debris — the windy snow — he told himself.
Rin hated the snow, he hated how the ornate crystals fell delicately from above. He hated snow more than he hated calligraphy, more than he hated proverbs, but— but definitely not more than he hated his ni-chan.
The precipitation meandered their way down from the blotchy, clusters of deep fluff— an obscure contrast against the deeper, inky, black abyss. Rin thought with child-like wonder, that they looked like stars in a night sky. And for a small moment, they didn’t look like the snow he hated so much.
The relief was only brief.
For he felt the pelting of each snowflake with a reverberant pang. And somehow, they had travelled skin deep, pervading their frigid hostility through each fibre of his being. They tugged and teared at his heartstrings, and Rin knew immediately, something— something was not right.
The snow, a physical reminder of his lack of value, will incessantly be there, looming a shadow of fear over his presence.
Rin has become unnecessary… he knows, more than anyone, he knows best of his helplessness.
And each year, the snow will return with its fragile shadow, perhaps more vigorously so than the previous year to cruelly remind him of his depreciating value.
Itoshi Rin, reduced to a human being with no aims nor purpose stood still. Unmoving and stiff. Finally, at last, his pointless trek has come to its fateful end.
Rin didn’t know, he didn’t know where to go or what to do. He never knew how to live on alone in his solitude.
When he was with Sae, with his big brother, his ni-chan, the naive Rin didn’t have to think about anything. He could very well be an airhead, head hung high up in the endless clouds, and Sae, his evermore, would always be there beside him.
Always there— to guide and to protect him.
Gentle and nurturing.
But now, with him gone, no longer by his side like he sworn he’d be, what the hell was Rin supposed to fucking do when he knew nothing besides playing the blissfully ignorant fool.
With a shaky breath, Rin attempted to compose his lamenting emotions, the effort in vein for his strangled sobs and ceaseless tears made their presence be known against his ardent wishes. Chest heaving, his heart clamoured against his ribs, snagging at his lungs that weighed down painfully with the burden of his hopeless despair.
Why was he shaking so violently?
Was it from the fall in temperature? Or was it was from his pathetic weeping? Then again, he was crying because of his ni-chan’s unkind words that have kept him cold for a while too long.
So perhaps, it was a bit of both.
How many years… how many years will your unkind words keep me cold for, ni-chan..? It’s so cold... I can’t bear it anymore…
Please… please stop haunting me… ni-chan…
a/n: this is a repost of 'bleeding heart'... except i didnt like the original version (bc it was supposed to be longer and an x reader but I lost motivation for that) so i slightly altered this version to focus on the itoshi sibling angst bc it hurts my heart to think about Rin mourning the loss of his big brother 😞 hopefully this doesnt flop...
The concept of Michael Kaiser being a complete fucking big back is so precious to me.
Like yes this Fatass will vacuum anything and everything he sees (besides milk). He’s probably consumed bones from fish without even noticing because of it, defo watches smth whilst eating and is distracted.
He definitely eats so fast and ends up choking, has to constantly be told that his food won’t run away from him to get him to eat slower. Spoiler alert— it never helps.
He loves watching Kitchen Nightmares and Hell’s Kitchen and genuinely thinks the food doesn’t look that bad. 💀 He’s also wanted to be on the ‘I Can Cook’ show (me projecting). Probably watched it and learnt how to cook from there or smth. (Ik it’s a uk show but let me be delusional) He gets a little stressed when he watches The Great British Bake Off but finds it incredibly funny when the desserts collapse in the very last minute. I think he would enjoy Come Dine With Me too, he gets super serious when it’s time to grade the host’s dinner service and gets so disappointed when they give a higher rating than he expected. His guilty pleasure is watching Worst Cooks In America, especially after a bad day at practice— it makes him feel better about himself. 😭
Kaiser defo isn’t strict on his athletic diet either, he’s the type to just burn off the calories unintentionally in his pursuit to become the best.
And if he was a streamer or influencer, he would defo be a mukbanger. He either eats in absolute silence or talks about the recent books he’s read, he eats so much that he’s accused of spitting out his food off camera— Kaiser doesn’t fall for the ragebait... 🌚
His bank transactions are all just from food. (Sounds a lot like me) 😞. He loves a good buffet deal, and if there’s ever them food eating contests— he absolutely obliterates his opponents. Has so many prizes that he’s won all over from across the world displayed in his room.
Sightseeing is eating food for him. He tries food from all cultures with an open mind. Eats with his hand and can also can use chop sticks so well that he ends up unintentionally rizzing up aunties.
Anyways, let this be an apology for the late update of day thirteen of the kaiser wonderland event. ❤️
I can’t fall asleep and am brainrotted with Kaiser being a fat fuck (@nagdong_Duck on X you are the one responsible for this).
a dedication to my muse, michael kaiser, where i write a series of short oneshots to count down the coming of his birth.
─may flowers grow in the saddest parts of you.
m.f
content: cold and bored, you ask kaiser if he wants to cuddle which leads to a competitive game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who gets which spoon responsibility. you win, and yet, somehow, kaiser twists the rules of the game in his favour.
word count: 1.2k
a/n: i saw a reel about this from fernanda and sebastian and was inspired, i just added a little twist of my own (the game of rock paper scissors shoe) bc i know deep down that kaiser is the type to never accept defeat, especially with these childish games, as always, happy reading! <3
advent masterlist | day six | day eight
oneshot tw: fluffy and domestic, crack and comedic, kaiser is a cheater and a sore loser and spoilt princess.
This was… kind of boring.
You sighed, the movement travelling down your spine with a cold shiver.
The low hum of the heater did nothing to warm you up, not even the weighted blanket you buried yourself deep under provided you with much warmth. If anything, your overheating phone may have been just about the only thing that was keeping you toasty in the frigid weather that embraced the early evening of Berlin, but despite that, you were still left unsatisfied.
How the hell could you be satisfied when the cold was keeping you wide awake and the videos on your feed were boring you to death?!
You tossed and turned, wreaking havoc in the boundary of the large bed before succumbing to defeat when your efforts served to only dampen your mood further. Throwing yourself into the pile of pillows and blankets with a frustrated huff, you cursed just about everything that crossed your mind— a colourful habit you'd adopted after spending time with the sailor-mouthed athlete. "Ugh!"
On the thought of him… there was something that could entertain you after all!
"Micha!" You perked up, the familiar nickname gliding off your tongue with affectionate ease as your voice rose with a lilted tone of elation.
The boy in question briefly glanced up from his book beside you, casting you a questioning expression as he marked his page with the handmade bookmark he created from the dyed roses you'd gifted him early on in your relationship. He'd kept them, pressing them flat and preserving the gift of your love into something he could use routinely within his life.
You teased him relentlessly for his sentiments, but he didn't rise to the bait. It was a labour of his love. Born from the love that you bathed him in.
Kaiser, for all that he was, was not afraid to show his love. Not to you at least.
"I thought you were going to sleep…" His low toned voice reached your ears.
"Can't fall asleep, it's too cold." Jutting your bottom lip out, you hugged yourself and shivered melodramatically to get your point across.
He cracked a small, barely there smile at your childish antics, finding quaint amusement in your clumsy theatrics before guarding you with a curious stare. "Want me to turn the heater up higher?"
You shake your head in refusal, the radiator was about as useful as your appendix, useless. You needed something better, something warmer. And what was warmer than a goddamn heater? The man himself, Michael-fucking-Kaiser.
"Micha… do you want to spoon?"
Your request hung in the air quietly. Tempting. Luring. A lullaby that enticed him with little to no effort.
"Sure." He heeded to your suggestion without any hesitation, promptly shutting his book close and placing it beside him on his bedside table.
His grant swelled something tender in you, urging you to lift the blanket and make space for him beside you. Without much thought, you turned your back to him, quite elation buzzing in your veins as you awaited for his all consuming warmth to embrace you.
You waited, and waited… and waited, till your patience snapped. Just what the hell could he possibly be doing to be taking this damn long to get into bed?
With an exaggerated grunt, you pushed yourself up. Twisting your torso to face him as your elbows dug deep into the mattress, you blinked at the rather ridiculous sight that greeted you.
Kaiser, in all his apathetic glory, returned your questioning gaze with a confused one of his own.
All cosy and wrapped up beneath the weighted blanket, the boy, who's back was turned to you besides his head that had twisted ungainly to peek in your direction, arched a rather saucy brow back at you with the audacity of a spoilt princess. And if the absurd sight of his expecting expression wasn't enough to stun you, his next words, shameless and audacious, pulled a mildly offended gasp out of you.
"What's taking you so long?" He scoffed with unconcealed exasperation.
The absolute fucking cheek of it.
"I thought you were going to spoon me…" You sulked with folded arms, hoping the sight of your pathetic pout would make him surrender to your questionable charm.
"Why would I?" He reeled back with great offence, face contorting comically as if the mere notion of it was so nonsensical he didn't even want to waste brain cells entertaining it.
"Because you're obviously larger, duh." You reasoned with a matter-of-fact tone.
"So?"
"So," You sassed back, your words landing with weight as you answered him. "By default, you're the big spoon."
"That's stupid." He grumbled under his breath, twisting his head back and turning away from you as he pulled the duvet tighter around his form.
"Don't hate the player, hate the game." You provoked him with a shrug he most definitely couldn't see, hoping to get a rise out of him that would ultimately result in his begrudging embrace. So when he didn't rise to the bait, only reacting with jarring silence, you huffed, finding yourself giving in to him pathetically quick. "Do you want to decide spooning roles by playing rock, paper, scissors…?"
It was disgustingly comical how quickly he turned to face you with a determined gaze, the sulk wiped completely from his expression as he waited for you to get into position with bated breaths and ready hands. "Only one game."
"Deal." You scooted closer towards him, mirroring his hands as you met his stare head on resolutely.
"Rock…"
"Paper…"
"Scissors…!"
"Shoot!"
Your outstretched palm curled over his clenched fist. Paper vs rock. It was your perfect victory!
"Yes! I win!" You cheered joyfully, lacking concern for the loser in front of you as your flat palm shamelessly curled into victorious fists from the triumph that flooded your veins. "Hah!" You pointed at him with no regards to his dampening mood as the bed creaked under your weight. "Time to heed to the penalty, loser!"
Or so you thought…
"You bastard. This is not how the game works." You grumbled into his back with unrestrained disdain, shuffling aggressively under the blanket as you nuzzled into the warmth of his broad back, the ends of his hair tickling the tip of your nose. Your actions, unlike your words, told a different story. "Move, you asshole."
Hissing when your cold feet brushed against his bare leg, he smugly mocked your earlier words as your arms tightened around his waist. "Don't hate the game, hate the player."
You knew— you knew without having to see his fuckass face to know he was wearing his shit eating grin.
Somehow, somehow, Kaiser, the sore loser that he was, had managed to twist the results of your intense match in his favour— declaring that because paper beat rock by covering it, you, paper's representative, had to cover (spoon) him, rock's representative.
A preposterous statement if you had anything to say about it, but with the way Kaiser curled into your embrace, unguarded and relaxed within the safety of your arms, you didn't really bother with your theatrics anymore.
Not if it meant not having him melt in your arms like this.
a dedication to my muse, michael kaiser, where i write a series of short oneshots to count down the coming of his birth.
─may flowers grow in the saddest parts of you.
m.f
content: kaiser, persistent as a roach, can't seem to take a goddamn hint. the boy is unable to give up despite your obvious distaste towards his terrible advances. you can't quite tell if he's a masochist, a prideful bastard that can't accept defeat, or if he's simply just an idiot.
word count: 1.2k
a/n: this is based off of that k-drama/korean coat commercial, and as always, happy reading! <3
advent masterlist | day seven | day nine
oneshot tw: crack and comedic, kaiser can't take a goddamn hint, reader exists to humble kaiser, kaiser is lwk whipped
"I'm curious about something."
You begrudgingly tore your gaze away from your notes as an unfamiliar voice, pompous and confident, reached your ears. Looking up to meet the stranger who'd approached you casually as if you were close friends, you rose a questioning brow at the new arrival— Michael Kaiser, in all his wretched glory, staring you down with his infamous smug smirk.
Just what could Kaiser, adorned in the tailored suit of arrogance and doused in the fragrance of narcissism, possibly want with you at the bright hour of eight this fine morning? "Yes?"
If he heard the cheek in your curt tone, he didn't say anything about it, not when he was too preoccupied trying to collect important data. "What's your ideal type?"
"A guy who doesn't talk to me." You answered without missing a beat, your expression schooled into one of practised indifference.
Tugging on the straps of your tote bag closer to you, you didn't bother lingering around him longer than necessary. Opting to leave him in your dust simply because you weren't mentally built to deal with his soon to come temper tantrum that would surely encompass the quiet library you were residing in.
"DAMN IT!"
Yeah, you were right in your prediction.
"I have a question." His voice lacked its usual confidence after the hard hit it took from your blatant rejection of the previous day, only by a minuscule amount though, there was still so much he had left of it— he was Michael Kaiser after all. The same man who's arrogance might've been at a higher peak than Mt Everest which was already ridiculously high to begin with…
"Yes?" You urged him to speak his mind despite the evident reluctance in your tone.
"I'm Michael Kaiser." He suavely leaned over the checkout counter that stood as a wall to separate you with his jarringly pompous smirk. Strands of his dyed hair hair fell like silk past his shoulders from the movement as he fluttered his eyes seductively much like a male peacock in the midst of a mating dance. "What's your name?"
"N/y." You returned his smile with a tight one of your own, delight crawling up your sign as you watched him visibly brighten from your supposed compliance.
"N/y." He tested the name carefully, nodding with a satisfied hum when it rolled of his tongue with affectionate ease. "That's a pretty name."
Before you could force yourself to reply gratefully to his praise, your boss, possibly with the most comedic timing the world's ever witnessed, appeared form the back door and called for you.
"Y/n, let's clean the kitchen."
Without breaking eye-contact from the man before you who sported the expression of a man piecing together the Wonders of the World, you responded with your usual levelheaded-ness, not at all bothered by being red-handedly caught in a lie. "Okay."
Having learnt the consequence of shouting in a public place, he threw another tantrum within the safe confines of his home later that day.
"FUCK'S SAKE!"
"Y/n," he called out your real name this time as he turned to face you, the faintest crease of hesitance intertwined in his furrowed brows as he voiced out the question he'd spent a rather unhealthy amount of time practising in the mirror of his bathroom whilst sporting his birthday suit. "Wanna eat together?"
You returned his gaze with your usual nonchalance as you intensely studied his nervous but eager expression. It had been a good while since he first approached you, meaning multiple attempts at sweeping you off of your feet were conducted, each resulting in embarrassing failures that somehow didn't deter him away. Nonetheless, you'd strangely grown closer… or so he thought.
He may have been sharing his umbrella with you under the relentless rain today— a scene straight out of a contemporary romance novel. However, unlike Kaiser who believed this slow-burn development between the two of you to be the budding romance of the century, you were only using him for your convenience.
It was raining, you unfortunately didn't have your umbrella and he offered to share his with you, why the hell would you turn him down? You weren't a fool, you just rationally sought efficiency. But, with him letting this moment get to his head and use it as an opportunity to woo you, it may have been a terrible mistake on your part…
"Wait a minute." You didn't turn him down immediately like you would've done early on into your strange relationship, not when you were now aware of the perks that came along with being acquainted to the wealthy athlete. Instead, you'd come up with a scenario to evade his advances.
Tapping on the side of your wireless earphones that you had yet to remove, you picked up a call and responded to the person on your line. "Yes mom, was grandma's memorial today?"
Tilting his head to the side with boyish curiosity, Kaiser waited with uncharacteristic patience for you to finish your call. He hoped— prayed, that today wouldn't be the death anniversary of your old hag, but alas, his wishes were left unanswered.
"I'm comin—"
Ring ring. Ring ring.
You froze, stunned with the bad timing as you stared off into the distance. An awkward bout of silence ensued between the two of you, one which was comically filled with the sound your ringer. The ends of his mouth that had previously curved with excitement wavered hesitantly as you reached for your phone. Knowing you and your peculiar luck, it didn't seem like it'd be anything good…
Unpocketing your phone and bringing it by your ear, you actually answered the caller this time. "Yes grandma?"
He cried. Like actually cried.
Kaiser shed tears, real life tears at the ridiculous turn of events.
You screamed.
High-pitched and unrestrained as he looked at you with that pathetic expression.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Ding!
A vibration alert from your phone pulled you out of your thoughts. You took your phone out, mildly curious about what it could be. A notification from one of your socials greeted you.
Michael Kaiser requested to follow you.
"This asshole again?" Your expression immediately twisted with exasperation as your perused the name of the bastard who decided to bother you digitally. He just didn't know when to give up, did he? You'd made it abundantly clear, on multiple occasions at that, about how you felt. And yet, despite it all, he just couldn't take a goddamn hint. With more aggression that required, you blocked the scumbag, hoping this would be the last of your interaction.
If only you knew about the new job he got as a delivery driver at your favourite restaurant, or maybe it was for the best that you didn't know… you probably would knock his shit if he approached you without the element of surprise.
"Oh, hey Y/n. What a coincidence right—?" He tried to suave his way through whatever the hell this was.
You, in your cute pyjamas, tried to shove the door shut in his face only to be stopped by his sneaky feat that held the door from closing.
michael kaiser x reader — packed lunches and handwritten notes
a dedication to my muse, michael kaiser, where i write a series of short oneshots to count down the coming of his birth.
─may flowers grow in the saddest parts of you.
m.f
content: kaiser and his court of jocks love to pick on you for your supposedly childish packed lunches, but you aren't blind to his quiet gaze that lingers a little too long on your mother’s handwritten note. it’s blatantly obvious that he’s never received one before, so you decide to make one for him, hoping the small action quells the envy in his heart!
word count: 4.9k
a/n: reader's mum is the kind of mum i aspire to be, also bc this one is super long, the next few ones are going to be much shorter (uni is super busy rn as well), happy reading! <3
advent masterlist | day three | day five
oneshot tw: kaiser is lwk a bully, he’s a shithead, fluff, hurt/comfort, reader loves her mum/readers mum loves her too, bullying, kaiser ragebaiting, reader crashing tf out, lwk enemies to lovers if u squint, reader is super sensitive
It didn't take a full blown genius to figure out that Kaiser was an absolute shithead.
Even someone with the intelligence of an idiot could see that much, hell, even you— a self-proclaimed optimist who always tried to see the best in others— could see that.
If anything, you knew first hand how much of an insufferable asshole he was.
As patient as you tried to be, there was only so much bullshit you could tolerate before you lost your sanity. But for your mother's sake, you tried to keep your frustration at bay. That, you did.
Even when Kaiser pulled on your pigtails, mocking you for the childish hairdo that were the work of your mother's deft fingers, you stayed put. When he spread groundless rumours about you, hoping to damage your reputation that was already beyond the realms of salvation, you dismissed it. And when he intentionally stepped on your loafers, scuffing the shoes that were previously polished to perfection by your mother's meticulous care, you let your rage simmer. He could call you names and exclude you out for all you care, you weren't about to give in to his persistence.
At the end of the day, Kaiser was just an insecure bastard that fed off of people's misfortunes to make himself feel better. The kind of grade A asshole that probably sought attention from his peers because he didn't receive it at home. It was infinitely better to ignore that kind of thing than give it your time of day.
And that's what you did.
Even now, as Kaiser and his court of jocks surrounded you in the dining room and poked fun at you for your supposedly childish packed lunch that was lovingly prepared by your mother, you made a quiet show of plugging your ears shut with your fingers. His words often soured your appetite, and thus, it was vital to take precautions against them. A modern solution to a modern problem. You didn't mean to toot your own horn, but it was quite innovative if you did say so yourself.
Kaiser, on the other hand, didn't find your solution very innovative. If you weren't shaken by his words, than surely there had to be something else that would get under your skin.
And since your hands were so preoccupied with blocking out his words, they wouldn't be fast enough to react to whatever he threw at you.
Without warning, he grabbed your lunch bag from the table and motioned for his goons to stay on guard. Kaiser studied your unfazed expression for a short moment before snooping inside with a thoughtful hum.
"Is it another rocket shaped sandwich, or is star themed one this time?" His voice drawled out with mockery, grating at your nerves that were running haywire.
This… was fine.
As long as he didn't trash the food your mother painstakingly made for you, then it was fine… Even if he mocked you for your childish preferences, it was okay. There was no need to get all defensive. You exhaled softly, unfurling your tight knuckled fists. Hurry up. Make fun of it and just go on about your day. There was no need to cause unnecessary trouble for your mother. The seconds stretched long as he taunted you, but you were used to it. As long as you waited it out like you always did, everything will be—
"Huh? What's this piece of paper?"
Your head snapped towards him— namely the paper in his hands— against your will. The unconscious slip didn't go unnoticed by his sharp eyes, and you knew- you knew with a single glance at the blooming epiphany in his expression that you had dug your own grave. His eyes curved with mirth as his smirk grew infuriatingly large. "Oho? Have I finally managed to ruffle your feathers?"
"Don't—" Your desperate words were cut off when his underlings abruptly held you back from retaliating.
Clearing his throat rather theatrically, the gesture capturing the attention of the gathering crowd, he unfolded the paper with melodrama. "My dearest Y/n…"
You couldn't hear his voice over the relentless pounding of your betrayed heart. Gaze growing blurry with an onslaught of frustrated tears, a single thought occupied your racing mind. How could he be so cruel? What could you have possibly done to deserve his cruelty? You always kept to yourself, you've never once bothered him— nothing. You couldn't recall doing anything to him, so why? Why… was he so cruel?
Dammit! Hot fury crawled up your spine as you watched his mouth blabber thoughtlessly, how the hell were you supposed to remain quiet when he was insulting your mother like that?!
In one swift movement, you stilled in the tight grasp of his lackeys, the ceasing of your squirming had them unconsciously lower their guard and loosen their grip on your arms. In that split second of their misjudgement, you jumped at the opportunity. Teeth bared, you chomped down on the arm of the lackey on your right with the aggression of a feral beast high off of steroids. It was almost satisfying to watch him reel back in agony, but you didn't revel in it, not yet at least.
You wasted no time attacking the other guard-dog who didn't expect his co-worker to go down so pathetically quick. This time, you swung at his head with your freed hand, clawing at his eyes with zero remorse when your palm connected with his surprised face. The gasps of horror from your audience went ignored by you, you weren't finished yet. Not when that bastard was still standing—!
Your ferocious gaze landed on him over on the side of the table. You couldn't make out his expression, not when his hair fell over his face and covered majority of it. Not that you cared, he could be crying for all you care, you still weren't forgiving him. Grabbing the closest thing to you— an opened carton of milk— you held it tightly in your hand as you spoke through clenched teeth. "Give it back."
He flinched briefly hearing the tightness in your tone but collected himself quickly. Holding it high and out of your reach, he dangled the note about as bait and invited you to a challenge. "Come and get it."
You didn't need to be told twice.
Pulling your arm back with surgical precision, you threw the carton without hesitation— confident you wouldn't miss your mark.
Your aim was impeccable, commendable even.
The carton landed right on his head, and the contents comically poured out and streamed down his surprised face with quaint mockery.
The milk bomb was only supposed to catch him off guard. It wasn't aimed to cause any real pain, not when you had another one coming just for that specifically. In his minuscule moment of stupor, you climbed on the table and used it to give you a boost.
Unhesitatingly, you leapt towards him with outstretched hands. He must've not expected your rash movements, you could tell that much from his widened eyes and gaping mouth. Your hands clawed at his shoulders to steady your landing as your legs tightened around his torso to prevent him from shoving you off.
Bracing yourself for the soon-to-come impact, you pulled your head with clenched eyes before abruptly swinging it back down to meet his. You butted heads— quite literally— the noise echoing tumultuously in the hall that fell silent amidst your one-sided brawl.
Before darkness could sweep you into slumber, your fading vision faintly made out the ground that grew close. Ah, you must be falling. Well, it was no surprise really. The impact must've knocked Kaiser off his balance, and now, you were both going to fall head first to the hard ground.
The raging pounding in your head ceased suddenly and was replaced with strange warmth. The adrenaline was covering for the pain it seemed, and it would ultimately cover the pain of the fall to come as it was doing right now.
You closed your eyes, welcoming the darkness with open arms. He'd probably take most of the brunt since he would fall first, well-deserved, you thought.
What you didn't expect, was that he would end up taking the whole brunt of it.
The strange warmth that embraced your head wasn't from the adrenaline. No. It was from his large hands, protectively bracing your head from the impact that was to come— but never came.
Not to you at least.
Kaiser always won.
It wasn't fair, but it was the truth. And the truth always stung.
The boy may have been an asshole, but he was charming— a smooth talker. The type of guy who could turn the tide on you with pretty words and clumsy theatrics. He knew how to cleverly flip a situation on his opponent and avoid accountability.
That's the kind of person he was.
And it was because of that, because of his conniving personality that Kaiser had gotten away with everything he'd done for as long as he did. No peer he harassed could retaliate against him, not when it meant fighting a losing game. Just like that, every witness of his misdeed became a quiet wallflower in his extensive collection. Every teacher turned a blind eye to his wrongdoing and became the bystander they always reprimanded students for being. Everyone was wrapped around his dictating finger, because who in their right mind wanted to fight a losing game against Kaiser?
Nobody.
But then, there was you.
A vindictive rebel in a world that was filled with compliant bastards.
You were unworthy of his attention at first, and yet, had managed to unintentionally pique his interest with your packed lunches.
For some odd reason, the crusts of your sandwiches were cut off. It bothered him, why was the best part of the bread missing? There was another thing as well, the skin of your oranges were always peeled, even the membrane had been carefully removed. Since when did supermarkets start selling pre-peeled fruits?
A quick trip to the supermarket made him confirm that they did not sell pre-peeled oranges.
His dissatisfaction urged him to continue his furtive investigation. Kaiser was determined to get to the bottom of whatever this was. He lurked around you during lunch, watching you with keen but curious eyes as you contently indulged in your packed lunches. They were arranged in those kiddie, compact containers with different compartments that separated everything. The meals themselves were always healthy and balanced, with some of kind of whole grain carb that was the focal point of the picturesque meal as the fruits and vegetables along with the protein accompanied the main dish.
Everything was either shaped or cut into something… cute.
It was organised and meticulous, but undoubtedly childish for someone of your age. It just— didn't make sense.
And that's when he began to notice everything else about you. Your hair that was always neatly done in some kind of style with pretty hair-clips, your uniform that was always crisp and carefully ironed, your loafers that were always polished to perfection— it didn't add up.
You were anything but neat or orderly. If anything, you were clumsy, messy.
When school hours would come to an end, your uniform was always creased, and your hair was always loose and reminiscent of a bird's nest. Even your loafers were always muddy or scuffed. So how?
How was it that the next day you'd come to school all pristine again?
He wasn't the only one buzzing with unsated curiosity, even your peers had found it bizarre. If you were so bad being tidy, who the hell was keeping you all prime and proper?
Kaiser eventually found out. It was your mother...
Your mother was the one responsible for you childish, but undeniably cute packed lunches. She was also responsible for your neat uniform, and your pretty hair, and your lustrous shoes.
For the first time ever, Kaiser had lost... You, won one over him.
That's why, he couldn't stand the mere sight of you. And that's how, you became his prime victim.
It was satisfying, watching you endure it despite the quaint fire in your gaze. For the first time ever, you couldn't run to your mother with your tail tucked between your legs and cry in her embrace about it like the little baby you were.
Well, that's what he originally thought would happen…
You promptly beat that notion out of him.
And in true comedic timing, his concussed head stung with the remembrance of your unprovoked attack. Fuck, you ended up hitting him harder than he imagined you would. Was your forehead built of stone or something? It was fitting, your head was hard and you were just as hard-headed. Who else would be brave enough to lunge at him over the table and knock him down like some wild bull? Well, he did wave your note about like it was some red fabric… so he should've at the very least anticipated it.
With a self-deprecating sigh, he craned his neck forward to the other two that were a victim of your violent practices. They looked traumatised beyond reasoning, he could tell from the way they shook in their seats, clearly still perturbed with what had conspired earlier. Kaiser didn't blame them, it was the first time anyone had ever retaliated to his bullying, and so aggressively at that... You've never reacted to his taunts before, so seeing you blow up was definitely something. And all for a little note at that?
"Hah—" A noise of amusement slipped past him unrestrained, startling the two lackeys that were the picture definition of mortified. Ignoring the way they flinched at his ludicrous glee, his gaze wandered to the principal's office and beyond its glass windows.
Your figure— slouched with helpless defeat— greeted him.
It was his win.
The sight warmed his heart as he imagined it would, but it was short lived. He couldn't revel in it, not when chaos ensued at the main entrance of the school building.
Casting a mildly irritated, sideway glance towards the interruption that had cut his merriment short, his brows briefly twitched with intrigue when they landed on a woman that stood tall and poised with unwavering determination. An immovable force undeterred by the vice-principal's empty threats.
"Ma'am! You have to follow the Academy's protocols. You can't just appear like this—!" The vice-principal choked on his breaths as he tried to catch up to the unyielding woman. "Please calm down!"
"Calm down?" The mysterious woman finally paused in her furious strides and turned to face the cause of her frustrations, her expression grew with outrage as she mocked the man with a venomous sneer. "You expect me to calm down when my child is concussed?!"
"She's awake and stable, she's fine—" His careless attempt to quell her growing anger was in vein, only fuelling it even more.
"Where is my child..?" Through clenched teeth and trembling fists, her voice echoed in the hallway with quiet clarity. When her questioned was left unanswered by the man, she exhaled deeply to soothe herself— the self-reassurance for nought as the silence stretched. "Where is she?! Where is my—!"
"In the principal's office."
It was almost comical how fast her head snapped towards him when he responded.
It was even more laughable how quick he answered her.
Kaiser didn't tremble under her scepticism like the others did, in fact, he met her hardened stare head on with an amused one of his own. Beneath his mirthful facade, lay a calculatingly cautious boy. It wasn't hard to put two and two together. This mysterious woman— with her fiery gaze that was eerily familiar— it was obvious who she was.
The realisation settled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. It couldn't even have been that long since the principal called to inform your mother of your sorry state, just how fast must someone drop whatever they were doing to appear so quickly?
"Not even a 'thank you'?" He leaned his head back hoping to conceal his slipping expression as the taunt fell off his tongue with practised ease. "A bit ungrateful, aren't you?"
The woman payed his words no mind. Instead, she rushed off to the principal's office across the hallway without a moment's hesitation. He could've been lying about your whereabouts, but it seems that desperation made people yield in the face of their foes. Kaiser wasn't too bothered with her lack of gratitude, he wasn't expecting a response, not when he was sure that she figured out who he was from his injuries, but—
"Y/n!"
Kaiser tried to tune out your tearful reunion, he truly did. But his treacherous heart, consumed with envy, urged him to sneak a glance.
A mistake.
The sickening sight that greeted him gnawed at his stomach, filling him with unbridled rage.
"Mama..?"
It was disgusting.
Kaiser may have won the fight or whatever it was, but as your mother ran to you, as she embraced you with gentle hands and kissed your injured head with trembling relief, as she wiped away at your ceaseless tears and whispered her tender words of affection to you, Kaiser knew—
He knew immediately that he— that he lost.
My dearest Y/n, huh...?
Yeah... it really was disgusting.
My dearest Y/n,
Stop being a baby and eat the crust on your bread. I cut it out this time but I won't do it again next time.
angry and fed up, your mother >:(
p.s. being stern really doesn't suit me, does it? i'll probably keep cutting the crust forever. mommy loves you too much to not <3
The lines between his brows creased as he read over the letter— your note— again.
The ink may have been smudged with grease and the paper may have been folded with haste, but the text— the words were written with thought, with affection. They were embedded with your mother's love as were your crust-less, rocket shaped sandwiches.
With a defeated sigh, he smoothed out the creases on the note that were a result of his endless fidgeting. A person like him couldn't comprehend it.
Yeah, a guy like Kaiser wouldn't get it.
He couldn't even define the bizarre emotion that crept up his throat nor did he bother acknowledging it… Well, he may have refused to do so, but with the way his fingers flattened out the sheet with unbelievable softness, every movement mapped out with careful consideration— there was no lie in his actions. Only the undeniable truth.
He may not have realised it yet, or maybe he did and he was just playing the ignorant fool, but Kaiser was coming to terms with his defeat against you.
Even the usual crowd that flocked to him were evidently avoidant. They watched him from afar with pointed judgement, sharing hushed murmurs amongst themselves that reached his ears despite their pathetic attempt at quiet whispers.
What a spectacle it must be.
His lone figure had replaced yours at the dining table that seemed to stretch longer than he remembered. A sick twist in fate truly.
It was nothing though.
Kaiser was familiar with silence. The boy was no stranger to solitude.
Silence was his father's mercy.
It was a blessing he cherished with gratitude. This was truly nothin—
A dull thump put a pause to his ceaseless thoughts. The noise was followed by his pained grunt, a result of the sharp ache that shot up his temple— the same spot that was still sore from when he'd taken the impact of the fall earlier that week. Gasps of horror surrounded him, the expressions they sported was a familiar sight. One he couldn't just forget, not when it was the same as the time he'd been attacked with no remorse.
There was only one person bold enough to attack him with no fear. Only one brave fool amidst these cowards that rebelled against his absoluteness— you.
His hand that carefully cradled your note scrunched with instinct, a poor attempt at concealing his uncharacteristic longing. Pursing his lips to school his expression into one of indifference, he cast you a sideway glance to gauge your reaction. "Was a week of suspension not enough for you?"
You didn't rise to the bait, not that he expected you to, he knew first hand the length of your patience— and it was long. Instead, you casually took a seat beside him with unneeded sauce and carelessly threw something in his vague direction. He could only blink at your impudence, since when were the two of you buddy-buddy like this? The questions he wished to inquire fell short on his tongue however, the disbelief from your laid-back nature silencing his usually snarky comments.
"…."
When you made no move to explain yourself, Kaiser's shoulders remained tense with guarded caution. Quaint excitement crawled up his spine as his gaze fell from your indifferent expression to the lunchbox before you. He peeked over your shoulder with bated breaths as you busied yourself with opening Pandora's box. What would it be this time? Last time it was a constellation inspired Michelin-star deserving lunch, would it be a spring flower garden inspired one this time?
"So, are you… uh— gonna give it back or what..?" You finally spoke, expression contorting to one of hesitance as you stumbled on your words, an unbecoming sight that visibly stunned to him. When he responded with feigned ignorance in the form of more silence, you begrudgingly gestured to what you slapped him with earlier— a suspiciously lumpy-shaped, black plastic bag— and let out a melodramatic huff. "There's one in there for you so give back mine."
You weren't an idiot, nor were you blind.
Sure, there was a time you'd been blinded by rage not too long ago, but that day— that day when your mother embraced you tightly, when she cradled your face with delicate reverence and whispered words of consolation, even if your gaze had been blurry with the manifestation of your relief, you didn't miss it. You couldn't miss it. The way his stare had lingered on you both, quiet envy glinting in his intense gaze as he physically tore his gaze away from the emotional reunion.
Kaiser didn't have that. He didn't have what you had.
You figured that out when the principal's attempts to contact his parents were unsuccessful.
That's why, you took it upon yourself to give him that.
"Oh, wow."
Your head snapped up from your lunch to see what had caused such a dumbfounded response from him.
"It's like, playing spot the difference or something. On extreme difficulty at that..." He muttered with confused hesitance as he peeked inside the contents of the black plastic bag and then looked over to your pretty pink lunch bag, the note written for him held carefully in his hand.
"Huh? What are you talking about?" Completely missing the sarcasm in his tone, your face twitched comically with unbridled puzzlement. "There is a clear difference."
"Oh, yeah? Pray, do tell me this clear difference you're seeing." He drawled out with mock encouragement, mildly amused by your insistence to correct him.
"Mine's made with love," you pointed to your perfectly packed lunch and then gestured towards the pathetic excuse of a 'lunch' he had, "and yours is—"
"Let me guess, mine's made with hatred?" He interrupted with a matter of fact tone, waving about the piece of paper that was addressed to him with unbelievable amount of spite. It was nothing like your mother’s affectionate letters, the one you wrote for him was one born from the hatred you harboured for him.
You fucking insecure bastard,
I hope you rot in hell you unwanted piece of shit. I don’t care if you don’t have a mother, stop being a fucking cunt to others who do have one. I hope you choke on the worst part of the bread, the fucking crust, and I hope you get poisoning from the pesticide residue on the orange peels.
Disrespectfully, with the most unkindest regard ever, Y/n. 凸ಠ益ಠ)凸
p.s. i’ll give you the crust of my bread forever from now on because my mom thinks i outgrew my dislike for them… can’t disappoint her (╥_╥)
His heart hammered in his throat, that meant more lunches and notes for him, right?
"Uh, I was gonna say pity, y'know, because you don't have a loving and caring and present mother, or father, like I do."
"…."
What a way to leave him speechless, you really did have a way with words that was similar to rubbing salt on an open wound, didn’t you?
"Why?" You leaned towards him with delighted eyes, a big grin on your face as your voice rose with a lilt of hope. "You're not happy with it?"
"The contrary actually." He met your simper with a tight smile of his own, taking a bite of the insulting 'lunch' you so lovingly, prepared for him. It was satisfying to see how you immediately deflated when he didn't fall for your pathetic bait.
"Tch."
"Disappointed?"
"Pissed off actually." You corrected him with no shame.
It sucked he didn't like the scraps you gave him, especially after everything you went through to acquire them. Your mother, ever so emotional, almost shed tears when you told her she didn't need to cut the crust of your lunch or peel the skin of your tangerines, something about her baby growing up too fast.
The truth was, you needed the crust of the bread and the orange peels to feed Kaiser...
"I like bread crusts." He spoke reverently in the midst of devouring the so-called lunch you brought him.
It was new, all of this, was new to him. Even if you had brought him a pile of dog shit, he probably would've eaten it with zero complaints— actually, wait no.
"And the orange peels?"
"They're a bit bitter."
You reeled back with a mildly disturbed expression as he chewed on the tangerine skin you added simply for the joke of it. He was more pitiful than you initially thought, yikes. Your gaze drifted off to his loose tie and his untucked shirt, if he had a present mother like you did, she wouldn't let him reach this state of untidiness.
Without warning, you grabbed a hold of his tie and yanked on it tight, pulling him close and shortening the distance of your proximity. Choking from the sudden tugging, his eyes grew wide as your nose brushed against his. You paid it no mind, not when his lopsided tie took up most of your attention to. Your attempts to 'fix it' weren't very successful, something Kaiser decided to give his two cents on.
"You’ve made it worse."
Your levelled gaze flew up to meet his intense one, the retort you planned to voice out dying on your tongue when you noticed stray strands of his unkept hair obstruct his annoyingly pretty face. Overrun with impulse, you let out a deep puff of air, the wind of your breath blowing away the strands that prevented you from seeing his face fully.
With clumsy and rough hands, you pushed the hair out of his face, tucking the frizzy strands behind his flushing ears. Your effort to tidy his hair in vein, for all you achieved was an even bigger mess that he didn't bother pointing out this time.
Not this time.
If anything, he seemed pretty pleased to be at the mercy of your ministrations, you could see that much when he visibly slumped in your hold.
Kaiser chased the lingering warmth of your calloused hands as he nuzzled into your palms much like a touch starved stray. He blinked slowly, taking in your arguably endearing expression, your eyes concentrated but earnest and he thought back on it, on everything you've done for him. You fed him, though they were scarps you foraged out of pity, it was still something. You even wrote him a note! Though it looked more like a death threat rather than the encouraging ones your mother gave you… But you still did that for him- for him... His first ever handwritten note.
And now, you tried to fix his uniform and neaten his hair, and even though it wasn’t really great, he still leaned into it nonetheless.
It was like, like you were ticking off some sort of mental checklist.
You were showing him the joy of the things he previously picked on you for having. They were all small acts of service your mother did to express her love for you, and now, you were doing them all for him. Him. Granted, you both weren't exactly buddies, so they weren't done to such a high standard, but it was still- it was still something.
Then, did that mean you would also— his eyes fluttered close much like a dainty maiden as he rather eagerly pointed to the bruising on his forehead.
"Go ahead and kiss my injuries better."
"…."
It was almost offensive how your face scrunched with unbridled disgust. Rather than being met with the sensation of a soft peck that was rumoured to be an all-healing panacea, he was met with a harsh forehead flick that rebooted his faltering nervous system into overdrive.
"I only kiss those I like. You're not one of them if you haven't realised that yet."
“Ah, and you make lunch for those you love?” He perked up with hope. This had to be a roundabout way of saying you loved him!
“That’s not even what I—! Ugh! You’re so insufferable!” You crossed your arms and turned away from him. “Keep that up and there really will be no more lunches.”
“How come? Is your love for me seriously that fickle?” He whined, toying with the ends of your hair, not quite pulling on it, not this time, just— just twirling the lock around his finger subconsciously.
“No. It’s not because of that, it’s because I’ll hit you again and get expelled this time round.”
“So you’re saying your love for me isn’t fickle?”
“Oh my God! You’re seriously… impossible.”
Yeah, you seriously were going to get yourself expelled if he kept this up.
a dedication to my muse, michael kaiser, where i write a series of short oneshots to count down the coming of his birth.
─ may flowers grow in the saddest parts of you.
m.f
content: when kaiser is in a bad mood, the rest of the team face his wrath first-hand. you, tired of having to deal with the consequences of his bullshit decide that enough is enough. eliminating his strange weakness is the first step to a good morning and a happy kaiser!
word count: 2.6k
a/n: always wondered about kaiser’s hair type, it looks like it’d be high porosity and I’ve always wanted to do a wavy hair routine on him, got my group presentation tmr im so scared, anyways, happy reading! <3
main masterlist | advent masterlist | day two
oneshot tw: crack, comedy, chaos, fluffy and domestic, the rat-tail hair incident…
It was to absolutely nobody's surprise that Kaiser was a prickly little bitch in the morning.
Counting on one hand the amount of times he'd turn up late to morning practice with that sour attitude of his was no easy task, but counting on one hand the amount of times he wasn't in his default spoilt mood was much easier— especially when the probability of the latter happening was null— because it’s never happened before.
In short, Michael Kaiser was a damn bastard to deal with.
Equipped with a foul mouth that spouted every colourful word under the rainbow and twitchy limbs that acted on defensive impulse when treated with goodwill, Kaiser simply was a pain in the ass to deal with. A complete nutcase that was beyond saving, and yet, somehow, it was you that had to put up with him.
You were tasked with the impossible mission of transforming his bad mood into a good one.
"Dammit…" You banged your head on the nearby lockers with unbridled defeat, dismissing the concerned gaze Ness threw you with a casual wave.
Alexis Ness on the other hand, was an angel in comparison to that devil's spawn. He had to be heaven's greatest mercy for the pain and agony you've endured with zero complaints. Always so patient and helpful unlike the rest of the bastards that were simply no good. Honestly, you couldn't comprehend how he did it. How the hell was he still sane after constantly dealing with Kaiser's shenanigans?
Your eyes glazed with comical tears as you imagined a day in Ness' life. How sad it must be for him… Perhaps you should get tips from him? Nodding to yourself with a phlegmy sniff, you turned to face him with newfound conviction. The abrupt one-eighty change in your attitude startling the poor boy with a heart much too faint for this cruel world. "How do you do it?! How do you deal with Kaiser's tantrums?! Help me, Ness!"
The boy in question sweat-dropped briefly at your rapid fire questions before a thoughtful expression overcame him as he took in your distress. "Hmm, well it's hard to deal with something you can't change… so, I usually just accept that Kaiser will be in a bad mood."
You blink once, twice, and three times before guarding his stupidly happy face with a contorted expression of judgement. "Seriously? How attention deprived are you, Ness?"
"That's an inside thought, Y/n." He scolded you with a strained smile, before sighing deeply and continuing his lecture on 'How to deal with Kaiser's bad moods 101'. "I tell myself that I'm entitled to feeling frustrated, and then I try to do my best in practice by giving him satisfying passes... He's usually more tame with me after… Well, that's what I think anyway.."
Brows furrowed, you cupped your chin in deep thought. Hmm, he accepts the situation like a complete loser, then he accepts his big feelings with the emotional maturity of a saint, and then he shifts his mindset to focus on what he can control… "If only I knew why he was in such a mood to begin with. Knowing that means the situation could be completely avoided instead of just mitigating it…"
Ness perked up amidst your ramble, why Kaiser was pissed to begin with…? Wasn't that because of his— "His crazy bed hair?"
"Huh?" You snapped out of your rumination with twitching eyes. Had your hearing turned senile in the time you lost your sanity from dealing with Kaiser?
"He mentioned that his greatest weakness was waking up with crazy bed hair. Apparently that's why he wakes up in a bad mood."
"…."
An awkward pause stretched between the two of you with the newfound realisation. The reason for his bad moods, was because… his hair was reminiscent of a bird's nest…?
Your shoulders sagged with defeat, "I'll sneak in some sachertorte for you tomorrow, Ness…"
You gulped down whatever fear clawed at you, there was simple no way you could back out now. Not when you spent a pretty fortune on your required supplies… and especially not when you had to pay it out of your own damn pocket. Apparently your totally reasonable request was a 'totally unreasonable demand' as per the 'expert' opinion of the damn bastard managing the accounts of Bastard München.
You were in no pretty position to argue, so you chewed down your complaints like a prissy little bitch and went about your day.
Today, however, would be different.
With clenched fists and a determined nod, you marched onward— towards your doom, towards Michael-fucking-Kaiser.
"Uh— hey, K-kaiser…" Wow. How could you tremble like a foolish coward when you were full of immovable conviction just earlier?
Rather than acknowledging his name with a verbal response like most would, he instead guarded you with an unprompted frown of disgust. The kind that would put you six feet below the ground if looks could cause physical harm. How rude! Not that you were particularly interested in saying that out loud, you weren't exactly keen on being force fed a knuckle sandwich this early in the morning…
Instead, you twiddled your thumbs under his fear inducing glare like some school girl in love. Ah! You didn't think that far ahead! Every simulation you ran through before approaching the Lion's den completely dissipating the crevices of your brain as you stood before the devil's incarnate. Oh no… Your fingers trembled as you stammered on your words, "Erm, uh…"
He merely arched his brow at your meek disposition, clearly growing displeased by the minute as you beat around the bush. "What?"
You yelped hearing him finally speak after that pitiful length of silence. Blood immediately rushed to your head, short-circuiting your brain of any logical thoughts with a comical zap. You turned to Ness for some kind of telepathic aid only to be met with a hesitant but encouraging thumbs up. "Uh—! I- um, am under the suspicion that you have a head lice infestation! And as the— uh, the manager of your well being, and everybody else's— obviously! I like— have to, take care of it asap! Before it spreads, y'know?! Like a contagious disease!"
"…."
Exhaling deeply like a feral beast that was finally out of captivity, you turned to face Ness again with a rather proud look on your face. Expecting another thumbs up for your great work, imagine your surprise when he instead refused to meet your anticipating gaze and discreetly shook his head with what looked to be disappointment.
"I don't have fleas."
"I- uh! I, totally didn't say you were a fleabag or— or anything like that! Haha…" Your hands flayed about in frenzy as you tried clear the misunderstanding. Who the hell mishears head lice for fleas?
Great going, Y/n. Absolutely amazing work.
Sweat pooled down your back excessively as the extent of your idiocy slowly dawned upon you. Your attempt to defend your words did not make anything better, in fact, you were only making it worse for yourself. But, well if you were going down, might as well bring Ness down with you. "Right, Ness?!"
Ness' words of refusal quickly died on his tongue when you not-so-discreetly held out two fingers. His eyes briefly narrowed as he tried to interpret the words you were lip-syncing. Two months worth of sachertorte, was it? Now, that was hard to refuse. A strained grin grew on his face as he began to awkwardly itch himself everywhere. "Ah! W-would you look at that? I'm super itchy right now… haha. I must have head lice too…"
Kaiser stiffly turned to face Ness, an unreadable glint in his eyes as he took in the melting expression of the spinless boy. "You have fleas…?"
"Head lice." Ness corrected with a tight lipped smile.
"But you're itching your body." Kaiser pointed out bluntly with a deadpan.
"Body hair." You reasoned ridiculously, internally beaming with gratitude from Ness' quick save. He truly was Godsent! Forget one or two slices of sachertorte, you ought to bring him three!
"That's not how it works—"
"Are you itchy, Kaiser?" You cut him off, waving your fingers around like some kind of creepy spider.
"I'm not-" Poor boy, he tried his best to argue, but you were both cornering him way too effectively. The mention of the word 'itchy' and the bizarre hand motions had some kind of strange psychological effect on him, urging him to subconsciously itch his hair.
"It's confirmed, you have an infestation."
"I don't—!"
Great. Now that you successfully manipulated him into thinking that he had head lice, or fleas, the next course of your plan could be put into action.
It was time to do something about Kaiser's weakness— his crazy bed hair…
"See, Kaiser?" You gestured briefly to Ness' freshly washed and styled hair, then to all the supplies sprawled out near the sink. "Ness no longer has head lice because I've suffocated them with the special treatment!"
"Haha.. that's right…" Ness laughed nervously at your morbid wording, did you have really to smirk whilst saying something like that? "I'm no longer itchy!" He held out his hands in Kaiser's line of sight to placate the doubtful boy.
Kaiser bristled at the sudden movement like some kind of feral animal overrun with rabies, before guarding you both with paranoid scepticism. An awkward beat of silence passed before he decided to grab a handful of Ness's hair unannounced, as if to confirm something that's been bothering him for a while.
"It's soft…" He mumbled, brows furrowed in deep scrutiny.
Ness perked up immediately, an excited lilt adorning his tone as he spoke. "Right? I've no idea what you used on my hair, but it's never felt so soft before!"
"I know right!" You cheered with a radiant grin, unintentionally capturing Kaiser's elusive attention.
He watched you quietly with an unreadable glint in his eyes as you rambled on and on about the purpose of each product. Rapt with you, he took you in wholly. Your sunken eyes, fatigued with some kind of bone deep exhaustion and how they sparkled with elation as you explained each step and its necessity. Kaiser observed you and your animated hand gestures, the ends of your sleeves were slightly damp from washing Ness' hair, and your fingers were now pruney from the prolonged exposure to water. His intense gaze fell back to your face— specifically to your smile before they hardened with an unknown emotion— ugh.
A shiver crawled up his spine, damn it, did he really have head lice? Then… he needed to remove them, right? As soon as possible at that. But… if you were doing all this out of good will, then— "Why are you doing all this anyway? You tryna—"
"Because I don't want you to spread them to me."
Oh.
What a mess.
You've never seen anything like this before— it was that bad.
After your blunt response to his query, he wordlessly complied to have his hair washed and treated by you, which was what led to your current predicament.
The back of his hair was tangled and matted beyond saving, no wonder he was always in such a pissy mood! In all honesty, you were surprised he wasn't more insufferable than he already was…
Your fingers weaved through his choppy hair, lathering the shampoo at his roots and scratching his scalp to remove the build up that may have been the cause of his early morning frustration. Then, you began to cautiously untangle the stubborn knots with a generous amount of conditioner, careful not to tug harshly on the strands and poke the bear into a fit of unbridled rage. Tender and deft hands worked magic through the length of his thick blond locks, and slowly but surely, you were making positive progress.
Placing a towel beneath his soaking wet hair, you gently urged him out of the tub with a faint tap to his arm, and Kaiser, who'd grown pliant under your ministrations, obeyed with zero protest. Gesturing to the floor, you watched him with mild satisfaction as he sat down cross-legged and waited patiently for you to continue.
"I'm going to dry your hair in just a bit, okay?" You informed him softly, taking a sit behind him with your chosen styling products. When you received a docile hum, you resumed your routine. Raking his soaking wet hair with leave in, curl cream, mousse and gel, you began to finger coil the strands haphazardly. With a soft, cotton t-shirt, you then scrunched out the excess water, effectively preparing his hair for the diffuser.
The mellow buzz of the hair dryer came to a stop when you deemed his hair dry enough. You then broke his gel cast with some light weight oil, I should oil his hair before washing it next time…
Before you could pridefully announce your completion, Kaiser's head abruptly tipped back and landed with a soft thud on your collarbone. You blinked owlishly at whatever that was, uh… "Kaiser…?" When you were met with silence, curiosity swelled deep in you, prompting you to take a furtive peek over his shoulders, and the celestial sight that greeted you single-handedly removed every ounce of irritation you had for Kaiser.
A sleeping beauty— perched all pretty on you was the glorious sight that was gifted to you by divinity. Skin kissed by the heavens and flushed coral from the chill of the winter morning, your mouth gaped with awe as you took it all in. His thick lashes grazed the swell of his cheeks, casting a soft shadow that had you gawking with bated breaths. Was this seriously the same guy that you cursed in you sleep? The fine, golden silk-like strands of his hair framed his proportionate face. Some curling gingerly with volition and others cascading over his broad shoulder in loose waves. A single thought ran through your head— he looked like— like an angel..!
Amidst your internal fan-girling, you'd been unaware of said angel stirring up from his beauty sleep.
"Why'd you stop..?"
"Huh?" Your cheeks heated up when he didn't move away from you. He was awake this whole time?! "Erm.. I've finished, that's why..."
His intense gaze remained blankly tethered to you, the sleep indentations marked all over him a telling sign to the quality of his sleep. "…My hair's still itchy though."
"Really..?" Your brows furrowed with concern, was his scalp easily irritated? Damn it, you tried to buy things that were suited for sensitive skin as well!
Closing his eyes with a preformative huff of exasperation, he committed to memory the sight of your concerned expression. "Hm, the treatment needs to be done again."
Oh. So that's what this was. You let out an amused sigh, relief sagging in your shoulders. It looks like you weren't the only one who enjoyed this. "I don't really have a choice, do I?"
And just like that, a unique routine blossomed between the two of you.
'Treatment' only in name, this new addition to both your schedules became the most anticipated event of the day. Kaiser relished under the ministration of your magical hands, enjoying waking up to no bad hair day that was a deciding factor to his mood. And you, you took great pleasure in having your very own hair styling doll. You could intertwine wild flowers into his braid and he never cared nor complained! To be more exact, he couldn't complain, not when he was asleep ninety nine percent of the times.
Everything was under control. His luscious hair down to his volatile mood... until one day, Ness decided to pick up a pair of scissors.
"Ness, you bastard! What the hell did you do to my angel's hair?!"
a dedication to my muse, michael kaiser, where i write a series of short oneshots to count down the coming of his birth.
─may flowers grow in the saddest parts of you.
m.f
content: kaiser has been keeping an eye on you for a while, the new addition to the medics team. you mostly kept to yourself, busy with practicing sutures as an aspiring surgeon, and that alone was all it took to convince him that you were the one who could fix it. his attempt to inform you of his personal medical enquiry is unfortunately misinterpreted by you!
word count: 1.6k
a/n: i thought this was an interesting concept and thought about how i could make it funny, happy reading! <3
Kaiser has kept careful eye on you for a while now.
He wasn't exactly sure when his gaze had began to wander, but over time, Kaiser had unconsciously began to search for your quiet presence amidst the crowd.
You kept to yourself most, if not all the time. Timidly hiding behind your spectacles instead of socialising with the team. It wasn't exactly rocket science why you were the way you were. Headlined as an upcoming genius in the field of medicine despite your young age, it was glaringly obvious that people like you didn't fit in with the ordinary crowd. Unlike everybody else that were caught up in trivial discussions, you busied yourself with the art of surgery.
Diligent. Meticulous. Proper, very proper.
It wasn't talent that guided your success, it was your damn persistence. Like a rotting zombie that kept rising despite its missing limbs, you just kept at it. And in all honestly, it was annoying. Seeing you so dedicated to your cause as if defeat was merely a myth drove him insane.
But despite your irritatingly stubborn nature, Kaiser couldn't find it in him to voice out his unpleasant thoughts. Why was that? He… wasn't so sure himself.
Maybe, maybe he was starting to believe in the significance of your tenacity. If it was you, then maybe, just maybe, you could fix it.
Locating you wasn't really hard. He's observed your quaint habits long enough to know them like the back of his hand. You tended to sit on your own during lunch, not at a specific table, just a table that was free of occupants. There. Without any effort, Kaiser had found you again. You sat hunched over the table, seemingly busy with reviewing something on your phone. Probably watching a video on rotation flap surgery or something. He didn't know how you could watch something like that whilst eating. But, to each their own, he supposed.
"Y/n."
Startled, you flinched hearing an unfamiliar voice address you casually. It wasn't often that people came seeking you out, not unless they wished to dump their work on you. Looking up, you instinctively pushed up your glasses that jostled down the bridge of your nose from your earlier haste. With a levelled gaze, you responded out of sheer politeness. "Yes..?"
"Need you for something."
Of course. What did you even expect? "With what?"
Your strained response didn't go unnoticed by Kaiser's sharp perception, but he payed no mind to your unintentional attitude. "Medical enquiry."
It was almost comical how your eyes brightened with excitement at his reasoning. Was it even morally okay to be that fascinated with another person's ill health? Was that like— not a violation against your Hippocratic Oath or something? Kaiser deadpanned as you buzzed with anticipation in your seat. The medical related clip you were watching uncharacteristically left to the side and forgotten from your eagerness.
"I can help! One-hundred percent! I promise to be super useful!" Waving an impertinent hand about, you shamelessly advocated for yourself with an unsettlingly large grin that had him momentarily doubt you.
Was he mistaken..? Kaiser thought that because you were an oddball, you would be perfect for this unusual type of medical enquiry, but what if you guarded him with judgement instead..?
"So? What is it? A sprained ankle? A torn ACL? Or is it an MCL tear? Or is it—"
"My ball." He interrupted coolly with an unreadable expression.
"…Huh?" Blinking owlishly, your rambling came to an abrupt pause as you debated the state of your hearing.
"My ball." He repeated with a straight face.
"Your what..?" The colour drained from your face as the horror of his words began to dawn upon you.
"Tch," tutting under his breath at your slowness, he ran a hand through his dyed hair and guarded you with an annoyed glare. "Its my ball. My ball is injured. I need you to fix my ball." He sneered with a unneeded amount of sauce. Maybe it was a mistake coming to you after all, you were probably one of those preformative intellects.
"…."
An awkward silence stretched between the both of you, the kind that urged you to bring a shaky hand over your mouth to silence the agonised whimper that threatened to leave you. T-t-t— TESTICULAR TRAUMA?!!! No way! THERE'S NO WAY! How the hell was he standing so normally if he had testicular trauma?!! How differently was he built that he could withstand THAT?! Wait a minute… if he had testicular trauma and he required your help… did that not mean he needed you to examine his genitalia…?
The colour in you skin immediately returned hotter and more flushed. AHHH! "Y-your— your b-ball is injured?!"
"What's with that reaction? Are you incompetent after all?" Tilting his head to the side, he mocked you with mild offence. “Even after that big show of confidence earlier?”
"No!" You shook your head fervently, abruptly standing up from your chair and knocking it back in the process. Paying no mind to the attention you were unintentionally gathering, you clenched your fists and schooled your expression into one of determination. This was NOT the time to be getting flustered! Not when Kaiser's family jewels were on the line! "I'll treat it! I promised after all!"
"Well then hurry up—" Kaiser never got to finish what he was about to say with your unfathomable boldness.
For the second time that day, you misunderstood his words.
There, in the middle of the dining room, in front of a very curious-eyed audience, you pantsed him mid-fucking-sentence.
You, unlocked the impossible achievement of pantsing Michael Kaiser.
"…."
Hmm? Something's not quiet right… Your gaze flew to his boxers, they were odd— with some kind of strange arrows and bizarre text. Adjusting your glasses, you squinted to interpret the words. An arrow pointing towards his crown jewels with the text 'the legend' adjacent to it. Huh? Why would he wear this if he had testicular trauma? It didn't make sense, how was it a legend if it was malfunctioning? Expression contorting into one of confusion, you followed the other arrow that was pointing up with the text 'the man' accompanying it. Lifting your gaze up to solve the puzzle, a cold chill crawled up your spine as his cold glare greeted you.
"The fuck are you doing?"
Uh oh.
"Uh… I'm really sorry about, that…" The high of pantsing Kaiser still hadn't completely left you, even insinuating the little incident took a great deal of effort from you. And yet, somehow, Kaiser didn't seem too pissed at you…
He casually waved off your apology with the kind of nonchalance you wouldn't expect from someone who just had their undergarment crudely paraded in front of a crowd. "Don't be, the audience were rewarded with a heavenly sight— my body. You did me a favour if anything."
"Haha.. is that so?"
Humming noncommittally in response to your confusion, he raised a brow at you with expectancy, clearly too bothered with something else to further humour you. "More importantly, do you think you can, y'know..?"
Hearing his voice trail off with uncertainty caught your attention. Now, that, was unusual. Especially for a self-assured kind of guy like Kaiser. The guy practically oozed of arrogance and pride, so to see him all meek and unsure like a little child, to say the least, was uncanny.
You watched him from your peripheral, a thoughtful glint in your calculating eyes as you took in his troubled appearance. Taut shoulders, dry lips and excessive sweating— all telling signs of his sky-rocketing nerves, he looks like a helpless child…
Is it because you never interacted with him before this? Was that why he didn't bother with his facade? You were sure he wouldn't let just anyone see him be so vulnerable, so if he was abandoning all protective walls, then he was becoming desperate...
Kaiser had done the unthinkable in his state of despair, he had built up the courage to seek you out with a medical enquiry. And not just any kind, but a rather personal one. Not just anybody could do that. Your eyes dropped to the worn football in his protective hands, the large bandages that were haphazardly plastered on it piquing your interest. He must care a lot for the ball.
You let out a burdened sigh, the action misinterpreted by the boy who'd been waiting restlessly for your final verdict. "It's not possible, is it—?"
"Don't go concluding things on your own, I've yet to even began my assessment." You interrupted him with a levelled gaze, mildly offended by his indirect underestimation. The notion of someone doubting your knowledge ticked you off more than you realised, nonetheless, you remained calm, he was clearly in desperate need of reassurance. Prepping your stethoscope to show him your empathy, you gestured vaguely towards the medical examination table.
He hesitated with pursed lips, tightly holding his precious ball close to his chest as he stared at you with uncharacteristically wavering eyes. "…And if you can't fix it?"
"…."
The uneasy pause that crawled between your conversation alarmed him, filling him with dread as the possibility of failure dawned upon him. You've never done surgery on a ball before, the concept completely foreign to you, it was obvious that even you had your limitations!
"I'm not a miracle worker." Your admission drained the colour from his face, but you continued on with clear conviction. "But I made a promise to you, didn't I? So believe in my diligence and my persistence. Believe in my effort, and most of all, believe in me, Kaiser."
Even if it meant sacrificing a night or two's sleep— no, no matter how many nights it took, you will figure it out.
"You did a good job stopping the bleeding." You commended his efforts sincerely, immersing yourself completely in Kaiser's emotions with no judgement. "Leave the rest to me. I promise to save your ball without fail."
a dedication to my muse, michael kaiser, where i write a series of short oneshots to count down the coming of his birth.
─may flowers grow in the saddest parts of you.
m.f
content: kaiser has been keeping an eye on you for a while, the new addition to the medics team. you mostly kept to yourself, busy with practicing sutures as an aspiring surgeon, and that alone was all it took to convince him that you were the one who could fix it. his attempt to inform you of his personal medical enquiry is unfortunately misinterpreted by you!
word count: 1.6k
a/n: i thought this was an interesting concept and thought about how i could make it funny, happy reading! <3
Kaiser has kept careful eye on you for a while now.
He wasn't exactly sure when his gaze had began to wander, but over time, Kaiser had unconsciously began to search for your quiet presence amidst the crowd.
You kept to yourself most, if not all the time. Timidly hiding behind your spectacles instead of socialising with the team. It wasn't exactly rocket science why you were the way you were. Headlined as an upcoming genius in the field of medicine despite your young age, it was glaringly obvious that people like you didn't fit in with the ordinary crowd. Unlike everybody else that were caught up in trivial discussions, you busied yourself with the art of surgery.
Diligent. Meticulous. Proper, very proper.
It wasn't talent that guided your success, it was your damn persistence. Like a rotting zombie that kept rising despite its missing limbs, you just kept at it. And in all honestly, it was annoying. Seeing you so dedicated to your cause as if defeat was merely a myth drove him insane.
But despite your irritatingly stubborn nature, Kaiser couldn't find it in him to voice out his unpleasant thoughts. Why was that? He… wasn't so sure himself.
Maybe, maybe he was starting to believe in the significance of your tenacity. If it was you, then maybe, just maybe, you could fix it.
Locating you wasn't really hard. He's observed your quaint habits long enough to know them like the back of his hand. You tended to sit on your own during lunch, not at a specific table, just a table that was free of occupants. There. Without any effort, Kaiser had found you again. You sat hunched over the table, seemingly busy with reviewing something on your phone. Probably watching a video on rotation flap surgery or something. He didn't know how you could watch something like that whilst eating. But, to each their own, he supposed.
"Y/n."
Startled, you flinched hearing an unfamiliar voice address you casually. It wasn't often that people came seeking you out, not unless they wished to dump their work on you. Looking up, you instinctively pushed up your glasses that jostled down the bridge of your nose from your earlier haste. With a levelled gaze, you responded out of sheer politeness. "Yes..?"
"Need you for something."
Of course. What did you even expect? "With what?"
Your strained response didn't go unnoticed by Kaiser's sharp perception, but he payed no mind to your unintentional attitude. "Medical enquiry."
It was almost comical how your eyes brightened with excitement at his reasoning. Was it even morally okay to be that fascinated with another person's ill health? Was that like— not a violation against your Hippocratic Oath or something? Kaiser deadpanned as you buzzed with anticipation in your seat. The medical related clip you were watching uncharacteristically left to the side and forgotten from your eagerness.
"I can help! One-hundred percent! I promise to be super useful!" Waving an impertinent hand about, you shamelessly advocated for yourself with an unsettlingly large grin that had him momentarily doubt you.
Was he mistaken..? Kaiser thought that because you were an oddball, you would be perfect for this unusual type of medical enquiry, but what if you guarded him with judgement instead..?
"So? What is it? A sprained ankle? A torn ACL? Or is it an MCL tear? Or is it—"
"My ball." He interrupted coolly with an unreadable expression.
"…Huh?" Blinking owlishly, your rambling came to an abrupt pause as you debated the state of your hearing.
"My ball." He repeated with a straight face.
"Your what..?" The colour drained from your face as the horror of his words began to dawn upon you.
"Tch," tutting under his breath at your slowness, he ran a hand through his dyed hair and guarded you with an annoyed glare. "Its my ball. My ball is injured. I need you to fix my ball." He sneered with a unneeded amount of sauce. Maybe it was a mistake coming to you after all, you were probably one of those preformative intellects.
"…."
An awkward silence stretched between the both of you, the kind that urged you to bring a shaky hand over your mouth to silence the agonised whimper that threatened to leave you. T-t-t— TESTICULAR TRAUMA?!!! No way! THERE'S NO WAY! How the hell was he standing so normally if he had testicular trauma?!! How differently was he built that he could withstand THAT?! Wait a minute… if he had testicular trauma and he required your help… did that not mean he needed you to examine his genitalia…?
The colour in you skin immediately returned hotter and more flushed. AHHH! "Y-your— your b-ball is injured?!"
"What's with that reaction? Are you incompetent after all?" Tilting his head to the side, he mocked you with mild offence. “Even after that big show of confidence earlier?”
"No!" You shook your head fervently, abruptly standing up from your chair and knocking it back in the process. Paying no mind to the attention you were unintentionally gathering, you clenched your fists and schooled your expression into one of determination. This was NOT the time to be getting flustered! Not when Kaiser's family jewels were on the line! "I'll treat it! I promised after all!"
"Well then hurry up—" Kaiser never got to finish what he was about to say with your unfathomable boldness.
For the second time that day, you misunderstood his words.
There, in the middle of the dining room, in front of a very curious-eyed audience, you pantsed him mid-fucking-sentence.
You, unlocked the impossible achievement of pantsing Michael Kaiser.
"…."
Hmm? Something's not quiet right… Your gaze flew to his boxers, they were odd— with some kind of strange arrows and bizarre text. Adjusting your glasses, you squinted to interpret the words. An arrow pointing towards his crown jewels with the text 'the legend' adjacent to it. Huh? Why would he wear this if he had testicular trauma? It didn't make sense, how was it a legend if it was malfunctioning? Expression contorting into one of confusion, you followed the other arrow that was pointing up with the text 'the man' accompanying it. Lifting your gaze up to solve the puzzle, a cold chill crawled up your spine as his cold glare greeted you.
"The fuck are you doing?"
Uh oh.
"Uh… I'm really sorry about, that…" The high of pantsing Kaiser still hadn't completely left you, even insinuating the little incident took a great deal of effort from you. And yet, somehow, Kaiser didn't seem too pissed at you…
He casually waved off your apology with the kind of nonchalance you wouldn't expect from someone who just had their undergarment crudely paraded in front of a crowd. "Don't be, the audience were rewarded with a heavenly sight— my body. You did me a favour if anything."
"Haha.. is that so?"
Humming noncommittally in response to your confusion, he raised a brow at you with expectancy, clearly too bothered with something else to further humour you. "More importantly, do you think you can, y'know..?"
Hearing his voice trail off with uncertainty caught your attention. Now, that, was unusual. Especially for a self-assured kind of guy like Kaiser. The guy practically oozed of arrogance and pride, so to see him all meek and unsure like a little child, to say the least, was uncanny.
You watched him from your peripheral, a thoughtful glint in your calculating eyes as you took in his troubled appearance. Taut shoulders, dry lips and excessive sweating— all telling signs of his sky-rocketing nerves, he looks like a helpless child…
Is it because you never interacted with him before this? Was that why he didn't bother with his facade? You were sure he wouldn't let just anyone see him be so vulnerable, so if he was abandoning all protective walls, then he was becoming desperate...
Kaiser had done the unthinkable in his state of despair, he had built up the courage to seek you out with a medical enquiry. And not just any kind, but a rather personal one. Not just anybody could do that. Your eyes dropped to the worn football in his protective hands, the large bandages that were haphazardly plastered on it piquing your interest. He must care a lot for the ball.
You let out a burdened sigh, the action misinterpreted by the boy who'd been waiting restlessly for your final verdict. "It's not possible, is it—?"
"Don't go concluding things on your own, I've yet to even began my assessment." You interrupted him with a levelled gaze, mildly offended by his indirect underestimation. The notion of someone doubting your knowledge ticked you off more than you realised, nonetheless, you remained calm, he was clearly in desperate need of reassurance. Prepping your stethoscope to show him your empathy, you gestured vaguely towards the medical examination table.
He hesitated with pursed lips, tightly holding his precious ball close to his chest as he stared at you with uncharacteristically wavering eyes. "…And if you can't fix it?"
"…."
The uneasy pause that crawled between your conversation alarmed him, filling him with dread as the possibility of failure dawned upon him. You've never done surgery on a ball before, the concept completely foreign to you, it was obvious that even you had your limitations!
"I'm not a miracle worker." Your admission drained the colour from his face, but you continued on with clear conviction. "But I made a promise to you, didn't I? So believe in my diligence and my persistence. Believe in my effort, and most of all, believe in me, Kaiser."
Even if it meant sacrificing a night or two's sleep— no, no matter how many nights it took, you will figure it out.
"You did a good job stopping the bleeding." You commended his efforts sincerely, immersing yourself completely in Kaiser's emotions with no judgement. "Leave the rest to me. I promise to save your ball without fail."
a dedication to my muse, michael kaiser, where i write a series of short oneshots to count down the coming his birth.
─ may flowers grow in the saddest parts of you.
m.f
content: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, regret and longing, tw: domestic abuse and violence, mentions of drug and alcohol usage, platonic love, romantic love, crack, these are not all x readers, each oneshot will have a content & warning that is relevant to it, this list is just a general idea of what will come, there will be a mix of genres for these oneshots and i hope you find one amongst them that comforts you <3.
a/n: been planning this since early september and it's been keeping me awake ever since, i'm so excited for this, last i wrote for kaiser was in july 2024 so i hope my love for him hasn't grown rusty, in fact i hope the lack of writing for him fires me up even more! i feel like i've been neglecting kaiser ever since he disappeared from the manga so i hope this makes up for it ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵).
Had the Lady of the house always been so… unusual?
Nagi had always thought you were pretty strange… well no— you were pretty, yes, but also… just a little- well, a lot strange…
Despite being raised in a household that was preposterously wealthy, you were neither snobby or arrogant like the average noble. No, instead, you were quite closed off, but then you also weren't— at least not with him. With him, you were childish and chatty, a headache and an even bigger pain in his ass, but you were also strangely thoughtful as well. With a pretty smile and soft lips and glittery eyes, it was just impossible to deny you of anything you so desired— not if it meant being on the receiving end of your watery gaze and your pout that weakened the resolve in his knees.
It was arguably cute, yes, but it didn't change the fact that you were also displeased with him!
And it was with the use of that terrifyingly dangerous weapon of yours— pouty lips and watery gaze — the kind of expression that just dared him to refuse, that you had managed to rope him into being your personal guard— 'your knight in shining armour'…
He didn't exactly have any complaints.
You were the kind of Lady he wouldn't really trade for the world. Even if meant giving up the concept of an idle life, the wage you promised was just too tempting to say no to— where else can you find an employer that was willing to pay four times the average wage of an ordinary knight? And to someone who wasn't even formally qualified under the Royal Knight's Association's jurisdiction at that!
Granted, you did make the offer on a whim. Clearly too stubborn to let him go after he, in your exact words, 'saved' you 'like a knight in shining armour would' from the drunkards that were persistently harassing you— though he begged to differ. Any decent human being would've done the same — it was the bare minimum.
Besides, all he really did was extend to his full height and stare down at them with your back pressed close to his chest— it quite literally, was no big task for the lazy sloth. However, the act of merely straightening his posture— that in itself— was an accomplishment for him. Could he be blamed though?
Nagi had eyes.
His Lady was a celestial beauty and above all the embodiment of kindness, the least he could do was kiss the ground you walked on. It was wrong, he knew, but knowing that didn't deter him from seeking you out.
Just like now, the subconscious reminder of you urged his gaze to wander. Like a helpless sunflower obeying the laws of nature, his eyes fell upon you, as they always did.
If Nagi was your sunflower, loyal and devoted, then you were the sun, warm and radiant. With a smile so divine he wouldn't mind fighting the world if it meant being its sole recipient. Expression tainted with deep longing, he watched you from the balcony of your room. Forehead pressed to the glass doors, Nagi took you in wholly, rapt with awe as your attendants adorned your figure with the finest silk nature had to offer you.
You were meeting that strange man again.
Of course, it was foolish of him to even entertain the shameful thoughts that consumed him.
You were a Noble Lady and he was your servant. You were worlds apart from him— a man that couldn't even offer you the honour or status you deserved. It was… bittersweet. You looked so beautiful, it ached so painfully that he couldn't revere you as you deserved to be so.
"Seishi—"
He blinked slowly, an unpleasant pang of defeat crawling up his spine as the realisation of your doomed fate dawned upon him. You were going to get wed that man. You were going to get married to him, you were going to carry his child and then— and then, the children of another man will have your eyes.
His heart stuttered, and his sight grew blurry with the image of your concerned gaze. Was he seriously that deprived of you? To the extent he was now conjuring you up like a man drowning in hysteria? If this reverie was just a manifestation of his intense longing, then, then would it be okay to indulge in it?
Nagi hesitated, his trembling hands hovering over your form as he questioned his worth, but you, in all your sublimity, noticed his laboured breath and immediately took action. Your hands caressed his face with the tenderness of an angel, dainty fingers dabbing softly at the tears that streamed down his face. "My dear knight, why do you shed tears so sorrowfully?"
"My— My Lady… Y/n—!" He chocked on his words, and despite his uncharacteristic stammer, you waited patiently in silence. Urging him to speak his thoughts with a gentle tilt of your head and a soft curve of your lips, your throat constricted painfully as his lips quivered with despair. "Please, please answer me honestly."
Cradling your smaller hands in his much larger, calloused one, he knelt before you and begged with veneration. "Am I your one and only knight, here to protect you?"
Heat fluttered over the apple of your cheeks as your eyes zeroed on his covetous form. Your brows furrowed with fluster as you answered him truthfully. "Seishiro… you are the one protecting me, my one and only knight."
For as long as you could remember, Itoshi Rin had always been so… so closed off.
Even now, after weeks of observing him, you still found yourself at odds with the walls that Rin built around himself. It was strange— he was strange. Emotionally guarded and distant but also strangely straightforward. A paradox that you couldn't quite wrap your head around, Rin was the kind of mystery that filled you with unadulterated impulse.
And in true you fashion, to sate the curiosity that clawed at you with persistence, you'd ended up impulsively confessing.
The words tumbled out without much— any thought. You never mentioned outright that you liked him, only implying it, but Rin, despite his lack of social cues, came to a conclusion.
"You're like a cat. I like them."
"…"
He was silent for a while, admittedly taken aback by your roundabout confession, till he responded with a nod. And when you owlishly blinked in confusion, not exactly sure how to interpret his questionable gesture, he returned your stare with an even gaze. Lashes fluttering as he slowly blinked back at you much like a feline, a cat's kiss, a ridiculous thought overcame him as he took in the brilliance of your eyes. "You look like an owl." They were cute, you were also— kind of… really cute.
"Oh."
"…I'm quite fond of them."
You gaped at his candid response, did he mistake your insight for flirting? Was that why he flirted back? No, you shook your head at the ridiculous thought. There was no way the stoic and emotionally stunted boy was flirting with you, much less knew what flirting was. Yeah, he most likely pointed out the resemblance you shared with the bird because he was awed by your wisdom! Or so you thought.
Following the days of your strange interaction, something even stranger started happening.
Itoshi Rin, in all his apathetic glory, began to tether his ghostly presence to yourself.
Somehow, the boy got his hands on your schedule, made a mental note of it, and aligned his timetable to match yours. Every day without fail, he'd save a place for you beside him in the dining haul, and everyday without any complaints, he'd patiently wait by the school gates to walk you home, absolutely adamant that you walked on the inside of the pavement. It was a non-negotiable. Something you weren't even allowed to argue against.
Carrying your bag even if it wasn't heavy was indisputable. Shielding you from the rain and the winds with his mortifyingly oversized jacket was irrefutable. His unusual gestures were conducted in absolute silence, the kind that was slightly awkward but not exactly uncomfortable…
Out of completely thin air, Itoshi Rin, the unapproachable Ice Prince, became your routine. He didn't take no for answer, not that you could ever refuse him, not when he stared at you like that…
Not even now, as he handed you the bigger half of the twin ice lolly, could you even consider the outlandish thought.
"Thank you…" You mumbled taking the ice-cream from him, your hand briefly touching his much cooler ones.
"Hm." He merely hummed, wordlessly taking your bag from you and hooking it over his broad shoulder as he strictly nudged you away from the roadside of the pavement.
A familiar silence stretched between you two, the kind that made you question him, the sudden development between you two— everything. Why was he doing this? You didn't understand, you couldn't comprehend it, not one bit. How did you go from not talking to him at all to— well, still not talking to him as much… but to now receiving his strange acts of service? The confusion you let fester into curiosity eventually overwhelmed you, and unable to keep those thoughts to yourself, you blurted them out before they could be properly processed.
"I don't get it. Why do you do all this?" You gestured vaguely with you free hand, puzzlement written all over your face as he intently stared at you.
"Do you.. want me to stop?" He asked quietly, turning to face you with furrowed brows. Seeing you shake your head so ardently in response to his solemn question eased the self-doubt that settled in his stomach. Ears flushing red, he grabbed your unoccupied hand and laced both your fingers together. "Then don't question it, Owlette."
Voice soft, a gentle smile grew on your face as you gently squeezed his hand back. "Okay, Catboy."
