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urge to write one of my f/os having an emotional moment in the midst of sex.

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kaiser’s grip strength is about 178 smth pounds (80kg) but all i hear js that i weigh nothing to him.

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in a mood again. i’m projecting grrr

does michael see love as conditional; does he have to give amd give (or take and perform) in order to deserve something from you?

does he think youll leave if you’re done with his antics? his crocodile tears (he convinced himself of the fact he’s toying with you, when you can see how hours before he cried his jaw was set and he was getting glassy eyed) and scathing words? how he grips you too hard and pushes you around roughly? despite you knowing he’s trying. he’s imperfect but he tries hard for you.

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perhaps if i finish just one fanfic this year i’ll give myself a treat (writing a full kaiser fic.)

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kaiser's egoist bible responses are so... mild. I wonder if he's that subdued in a relationship or outside of football/soccer... he lived in fight or flight for so long, just surviving...

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I;ve been on my soapbox for too long

time to finish my English assignment

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not a serious fic, just more brainworms. (455 words)

cw: sex mention, kaiser is hard (mentioned)... mentioned sh and self deprecation (kaiser). set in the middle of your relationship (or else I doubt he'd cry in front of you genuinely. he'd cry early on as a test and to get you to coddling him, but he hates how agonized you look then, so he tries to hide it until it builds up, leading to here.)

I have so many brainworms :,3. I wrote this while watching Hamilton for an assignment, although the movie they're watching is not Hamilton.

need to have nasty sex with kaiser but it devolves into him being unable to meet reader in the eyes midway through. he's never been this intimate and you're both half clothed... and the two of you leave the bedroom in favor of cheap ramen and a shitty movie he can turn his brain off too.

your Mihya's brain is quiet and fuzzy at this point, and he is... content that you're just letting him be. You're not pampering him, not in a traditional sense. His favorite tea is in a cup on the table. You made his favorite ramen (with his favorite chopsticks and bowl) with some strips of meat, and your own preferred form of the instant meal. You don't cajole him back into bed (even though he's still hard) but you don't tease about it either. Kaiser thinks he likes it this way; you're rambling about how the movie sucks, and you let him lean into you.

you don't flinch from him, and conversation is easy with you. too easy. But you fall asleep, arm curled limply around his and he reasons that you do care. that his worries might have been foolish and misplaced (he thinks you should've worried about him--rejected his advances--hes damaged and worthless, but you don't see him that way. Something unfamiliar bubbles up in his chest.). Michael cries for the first time (from pure emotion, not his self-harming tendencies that he tries to hide from you) and leans into your awaiting arms. You place a kiss onto his head, and he whimpers your name out, begging for you.

"I'm going to pull you closer, okay Mihya?" he nods stiffly and pulls you closer, meeting you halfway.

That's how you two fall asleep, Mihya's tears soak your shirt and the TV had automatically turned itself off... Michael thinks love might be worth it if you let him be this way, if you let him be vulnerable and learn to stop being volatile. (he wonders if you want him to do more, if he's too much for you. But he doesn't see how he holds doors open for you, carries your bags and cuts vegetables for you... you see how he knows your skin and hair care, your preferred pain meds and how protective he is of you.)

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guys I blame "iliketonomstuff" bc now Kaiser calling me "mutt" is stuck in my brain fuck.

(no shade to them; they added another brainworm to the pile of kaiser brainworms.)

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guess who has to watch Hamilton for an assignment. me. so....

satisfied (from Hamilton) ft. the Itoshi brothers at a club, but it's Rin who sweeps you off your feet, yet Sae had talked to you first. It's sae who offers you up to Rin as an olive branch for their failing sibling relationship. It's Sae who is the best man at the wedding, who watches as his brother falls in love with you and it's Rin who watches his brother withdraw (Rin thinks he messed up again. Sae sees the little kid he taught soccer to and almost crumbles.).

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karasu tobito 🙂‍↕️

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better the beast you know wolf hybrid!blade for @rabbbitseason who makes lovely lovely art!! tags: implied yandere, forceful caretaking,

The kitchen is cool. The tile is smooth and chills the soles of your feet. Heat from the stove wafts up in plumes of steam. The surface of the water ripples with boiling bubbles. The rapid glug, glug, glug fills the quiet. You stir in the pasta. You turn the heat down, just a little. The clock above the stove reads 1:21.

“...Why are you awake?” as if on cue, Blade’s raspy voice rumbles from the hall. He pads across the kitchen. He closes the gap between you within seconds. 

You don’t turn to look at him. You stir the pot, let your gaze get lost in the small bubbles that still reach the water’s surface. 

Blade’s big hand encloses around your wrist. He’s careful to keep his claws tucked away from your skin as he pulls the limb back, takes the spoon from you with delicate gentility. The heat of him settles around your shoulders like a blanket. His cheek presses against the top of your head, big hands coming to settle on your hips. He prompts you with a murmur of your name and a gentle nudge.

“I was hungry,” you reply. You’re hungry, and you had hoped that by getting up this late, you would get some space to yourself. Unfortunately, Blade is every bit the dog his previous handlers told you he wouldn’t be. A wolf, they had called him. But he’s too clingy to be a wolf, too set on embedding himself in every facet of you.

“I’ll watch the pot. Go sit,” he instructs you, taking your place at the stove.

“I can do it myself,” you protest. He looks at you sternly, meaningfully. Candlewick irises flare in the dark of the room. Some long forgotten, instinctual part of you recognizes him for what he is–but you’re exhausted and agitated and insistent. “Seriously! Stop treating me like I’m a child, Blade. It’s insulting.”

“You’re tired,” he tells you simply. “You came home too late.”

“Too late? What are you, my mother?” you ask, incredulous. He nudges you out of the way, displacing you with the lean slant of his body. “Blade!” you seethe. You push against him, fruitlessly attempting to reclaim your post at the stove. Your efforts earn you a sterner glare, his ears swiveling back.

“Adults know when they’ve overexerted themselves,” he chides, still disimpassioned. It’s almost worse than him raising his voice, in a way. You feel more and more like a child with each protestation–and it isn’t like he’s wrong. Multiple overtime shifts have left you dead on your feet this past week alone. But this pattern of behavior–his clinginess, his insistence on your lack of self-preservation and his dismissiveness of your ability to take care of yourself have extended far beyond now. It’s always been in the form of comments here and there. Quiet and brooding and easy to brush off. 

“I don’t have to exert myself to make pasta,” you insist incredulously. You give him another push.

The dark, amorphous shapes of your living room whirl by as he grabs you–faster than you can blink, and pins you against the countertop. The breath has been snatched from your lungs, your eyes wide as saucers as you look up at him. Powerless. You’ve always been conscious of Blade’s size. Hard not to be, when he loomed so close so often. But you never humored the possibility of him using it against you. Or perhaps you just hadn’t wanted to.

His forehead presses against your own. The candlewick amber of his irises stand out stark against the velveteen shadows. He says nothing, doesn’t lord your helplessness over your head. The position speaks for itself, defined by intimacy.

And then, his massive hands curl under your thighs to lift you. You squawk, hands scrambling for purchase on his broad shoulders, but it’s a short trip. He seats you on the counter next to the stove. 

You spend the next twenty minutes in stupefied silence, until he plops a warm bowl in your lap. 

---

In the crisp morning light, it’s easy to pretend that night’s events were a faraway dream. Fueled by exhaustion-induced lunacy. You go to work and ignore his pouting. The shift is long. The very last you have on the docket, so you can feel at least a little less guilty about leaving him to his own devices all day. 

Usually, you would hesitate to go out for drinks after work. Your coworkers are kind, but not a stay-two-hours-after-shift-in-an-already-crowded-bar kind. But it’s an occasion worth celebrating, in your eyes. Or maybe you just look for excuses to get yourself little treats. The noise would typically bother you, but you inundate your senses with sugary drink after drink. Heavy notes of strawberry and pineapple and peach dance along your tongue. The loud music ebbs to a low throb, barely noticeable. 

By the time you stumble through your door, the world feels watery at the edges. Warm and hazy and hot, flushed up the back of your neck and in your cheeks. The street lamps blur by in amorphous blobs, the after-images burning the inside of your eyelids. 

You don’t even register Blade’s presence until he’s on you. His big hands close around your shoulders, eyes wide and wild in the dark. “Where were you?”

“Coworkers wanted to get drinks. The boss was there. I couldn’t say ‘no’,” you lie, letting him steer you over to the sofa. You plop down in your rumpled work clothes, bringing the back of your wrist over your eyes. 

“You’ve refused before,” Blade argues, but dismisses the topic with a shake of his head. Your bleary eyes track his hulking form as he crouches before you. Dexterous fingers unlatch one of your heel’s straps. His thumb rubs at the hollow of your ankle. The tender caress sends something hot and wavy right up your spine. “Did you stumble home in the dark?”

“Got dropped off,” you mumble. The answer doesn’t satisfy him. He works your other heel off, unceremoniously dumping them at his side. “Really, Blade. You don’t have to be so worried.”

He opens his mouth (to argue more). You lean forward and press your lips between his brows. It’s his fault, really. The way those dusky bangs are parted perfectly frames the space. Just asking to be kissed. It’s chaste. A mere moment before you duck and settle your forehead against his. He comes to hold the weight of your upper body, broad hands framing your shoulders.

“You’re a fool,” he hisses, and then he kisses you. It’s a long, hungry press of his lips into yours. Violent, even. He pushes you back into the sofa and pins you there, every inch of him crowded into your space. He kisses you like he wants to eat you, steals the air from your lungs. A hazy warmth rolls through your body, and your hands twitch where they’ve landed on his shoulders. You moan, loud and open, into his mouth and that seems to snap him out of it. 

He pulls back like he’s been burned, leaving you with wide eyes and swollen lips. For some reason, he looks aghast. Haunted. Has something spooked him? 

“Blade–” you begin, overwrought brain swelling with sensations and questions. Your concern outweighs them, somehow. You reach out for him.

“Later,” he breathes, and pulls you bodily off the sofa. You’re forced to curl against his chest like a koala, legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He’s sturdy and warm, and your head is beginning to pound. You shut your eyes. The dark enshrouds your worn senses, and the scent of him rests heavy in your lungs.

---

The restaurant is low-lit but crowded. Your friends and your friends’ friends crowd around one, long table. Music swells low in the background, overwhelmed by the ceaseless chattering of this congealed group of near strangers. You hadn’t wanted to come, but it’s been so long since you’ve seen all of your people in one place. Now, though, you’re not even able to speak to them with how many people there are.

The only company you’ve brought is Blade, who sits at your side like a looming storm cloud. He’s been clingier as of late. You’re not sure what’s brought it on, but you’re not complaining. It’s good to have a stable, familiar presence next to you. Even if he’s glaring daggers at anyone who so much looks at you.

You trudge through the appetizers, busying yourself with the taste of the food, the delicious crunch of the calamari. The chattering has become too loud. The erumpent laughs and overlapping murmurs feel like they’re scraping the surface of your brain. Your hands curl into fists. You swallow. The faint taste of spice lingers on the back of your tongue, turned sour by your achy nerves.

Blade nudges you, a shock of cold water dumped over your head. 

“We’re leaving,” he murmurs. You blink at him. 

“What?” you ask. You’re leaving? Didn’t you just get here? 

“You don’t feel well. We are leaving.” Blade says, and doesn’t give you the chance to say anything before standing up. Some of the conversations closest to you quell, onlookers peering over at the sudden movement. But he has no eyes for them. Only you. Scorching irises burning into you. The inquisitive gazes of those closest to you make your cheeks hot–you don’t want to make a scene, here. So you put on an apologetic smile and give some half-hearted excuses. 

You tuck your chair back in and Blade curls a possessive arm around your shoulders, tucking you against his side. You leave the restaurant like that. The nighttime air is balmy, this time of year. The moisture sticks to your skin–a sign of coming rain. 

“Blade,” you begin, but go quiet. It would be perfectly within your rights to scold him for making that decision for you–but he was right. He recognized your distress within minutes and moved to remedy the situation. All he wanted to do was help you, and the end result is that you’re relieved. It’s quiet outside. Your house is only a short walk away.

A low, inquisitive sound rumbles in his chest, reminding you of his presence. He’s paused, looking down at you through shaggy bangs. He needs a haircut, you think, reaching a hand up to brush several of those raven strands away from his face.

He makes a contented sound. His head tilts, cheek sinking eagerly into your hand, lips brushing against the cushion of your palm.

“I appreciate you,” you say, instead of scolding him, “But… ask me before making a decision like that.”

“You were upset,” he remarks, deadpan, “And your friends were too busy with their own company to pay you any heed. Why would we have stayed?” His sarcastic intonation on the word friends stings. Blade has always been suspicious of… well, anyone who isn’t you. But those who are closest to you endure the most scrutiny. You don’t like what he’s implying, but you’ve already told him, multiple times, that they’re not like that. The people you associate with are good and kind, but every insistence opens the door to another argument.

“I…” you chew on your thoughts. You want to explain all of it to him–the fact that you’re an adult, that you can make your own decisions, that you need to face your problems rather than flee from them, but in the end, you’re too tired to argue. So you shake your head. “We’ll talk about it later.”

He hums his assent, and brushes his lips against your temple. His bushy tail wraps around your waist, as if every inch of him is compelled to curl as close as possible. He’s been doing that more often, too. Being more physically affectionate. His touches haven’t ventured beyond chaste, yet, but you wonder. And when you wonder, your gut knots with anxiety. So you stop thinking about it, let him lead you home.

You have a sinking feeling that you will not be talking about this later.

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The moment that thirst overcomes his will to resist, he’s wrapped around you so tightly that escape would be impossible. His body entirely eclipses yours; left arm snaking around your waist to pull you flush against his chest, right arm smoothing along your back towards your head. Nimble fingers bury themselves into your hair, firmly gripping at the roots to angle your head to the side leaving the smooth expanse of your throat entirely at his mercy. Despite the animalistic way he clings to you, not unlike an anaconda constricting around a fresh kill, there is an undeniable tenderness in which he cradles your face against his own throat — his own point of weakness completely unguarded. The warmth of his tongue laves over your now racing pulse before the sting of his fangs radiates within your body. It burns, but only for a moment. A choked moan slips past your lips and you can feel the thumb of his free hand moving in soothing strokes against the skin of your waist, almost as if to say ‘I’m sorry.’ Tension seeps from Michael’s body as he drinks you in, a wanton moan of his own vibrating along your skin. Pain gives way to fuzzy pleasure as you begin to feel yourself go limp. Darkness slowly consumes you, but just before you succumb to it the sensation of tears dripping onto your shoulder makes your heart ache.

context

AZ 😭😭!!!!1!!1!!!!! im breathign so heavily right now like i genuinely think i need my inhaler i almost never use because this legit took my breath away where is the AIR nrhrhhggghgh

u got it right on the target sweet jesus.... him trying sooo hard not to hurt reader and non-verbally apologizing WAILSSS and THANK YOU FOR MAKING HIM CRY i love it when men do, truly 🫶

he'd be so haunted by the two little dots on your neck when you finally wake up and recover, staring at them with such contempt in his eyes. tries absolutely everything to forget the taste of your blood—feasting on different animals and the occasional poor human that dares to cross him—but now all the blood he consumes tastes too sour... not ripe. the metallic tang of it all just tastes all too bitter.

tortures himself over it, too, the decision that wasn't necessarily his to make when he remembers how his body and mind disconnected when he sampled death. and it's not just over how delicious you tasted, either. it's also the lust that rages inside of him. the one that he was able to control before the incident, but now torments him tenfold when your face flashes across his mind, body weakening, pants tightening, breath hitching as a whimper of your name escapes his dried lips.

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feat. michael kaiser || cw: suggestive, childhood trauma, virginity loss, choking, reverse comfort

can i say something…

can i say that when kaiser tries to lose his virginity to you, it takes a few tries.

can i say that no matter how much he tries to prepare for it, he always ends up losing himself because he gets overwhelmed.

can i say the first time you tried to do it, you were on top and he the ghost of his father melds into the sweet image of you—distorting and making you look like some sort of disgusting monster. he pushed you off albeit a little too harshly and spiraled into a panic attack, remnants of his childhood rushing to his head. you have to stay on the bottom from now on.

can i say that the second time it was attempted, you were trying to comfort him and let it slip that you loved him. he looked at you with wide eyes and thought he was hallucinating at first but when you try to repeat it, he yells at you, telling you to gain some common sense and leaves the room while his fingers itch to feel your skin and ears desperate to hear you say it again. all he’s praying is that you mean it.

can i say with the third try, when he tries to get on top after he pulls away from a kiss, he sees a mirage of his child self and the hands of his father in front of him. that he clutches your throat by a compulsion and squeezes. that you have to push him off of you to regain air, and when his hallucinations fade, when he sees his own arms and the black vine tattoo, he’s so disordered with himself he stays away from you for a week. (your texts ask him to come over and please talk to you, that you’re not mad, but they go unanswered)

can i say that with the fourth try, you manage to figure it out.

can i say that you have to constantly call him micha in order for him to ground himself so he knows it’s you. if his hands get confused on where to put them, just anywhere below your neck. if he mutters something self-degrading, that he’s a piece of shit or subhuman that doesn’t deserve this, you’ll tell him you’ve loved him since the beginning, thatyou you want to give yourself him as a form of love. that only a human is capable of receiving such. if his breathing starts to get irregular, you’ll murmur for him to synchronize with yours so your heartbeats mirror each other.

can i say that when he’ll swallow dryly whenever you wince at anything. can i say that when you close your eyes, kaiser will press his forehead to yours to try and know what you’re thinking, if he’s doing this right.

can i say that when it finally does happen, when he overcomes the fear of his past, that he whispers through a tight voice thank you through closed eyes, feeling the warmth of your body connected with his and finds himself at peace for the very first time—one that he thinks he’ll only ever feel with you.

[koipudding]

feat. karasu, otoya, yukimiya cw: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, is implied to have smaller hands, smoking, roommates au, implied aged-up characters (20s)

hi here are some more a345!tabieitaken roommates au headcanons, this time they involve more of reader :] part one here, part two here

karasu

during the warmer weather, when you and him make a habit of going to the farmer's market, there's an elderly shopkeeper that sells some peaches who had once complimented on how lovely of a couple you and him are, that you remind her of her and her late husband. feeling awkward and guilt-ridden, not having the heart to break it to her that you guys weren't actually a couple, you both laugh nervously and thank her. from then on, she gives you and karasu free peaches whenever she sees you both together and you have to pretend that you are for that fleeting moment you and him are a young couple in love within her presence.

even when he's just at home, he often still waxes his hair. he eventually lets it down and breathe properly for the weekends when you had one time smiled and complimented how nice he looks with his natural hair.

a smoker but only when he gets stressed. he tried to hide it from you when you first moved in, ashamed of his coping method, but you had told him you indulged in one or two as well from time to time since your work often put you in stressful scenarios as well. does the cigarette kiss with you when you and him smoke on the balcony together.

speaking of which, you indirectly kiss him the most. you use the same spoon he'll use when he offers you a bite of his food, drink from the same shotglass, and use the same chopsticks that he'll use to gently place food in your mouth.

when you and him open up to each other more, he enjoys hearing you talk; your voice is soothing to him (as it's canon that he has a voice fetish). sometimes may ask you to read to him if you're just lounging around and catching up on a book.

(per last hc post) he tries to teach you bass one time, but you make him nervous just by standing so close to him that he barely survives the first lesson when he has to stay behind you and help move your hands accordingly. he tries so hard not to notice how smaller your fingers are in comparison to his.

you always buy a jar of kimchi for him when you're out grocery shopping, something that he appreciates very much so as he often eats rice and whatever meal he has with kimchi.

yukimiya

loves to cook with you. he always sends you some recipe he saw online and asking if you'd like to try it out. all you'd have to do is respond yes and wow magically the ingredients have appeared before you in the loft... he'd love an extra hand to help him with all of this perhaps 👀

you are the only person that he'll ever let borrow his clothes when he found you struggling to piece together an outfit one time. had said to you that you can pick out whatever you like from his closet if you so wanted to and when you do, he feels this weird sense of ... pride? seeing you in his clothes just makes him feel giddy, knowing that your fashion senses often correlate with each other.

however, he is also not afraid to be honest and tell you upfront that your outfit may just not be right for the day if he thinks so. but you appreciate this—his honesty is refreshing.

sometimes visits you in the office if he has an upcoming shoot that he has to go to his agency's headquarters for, where you work. maybe will drop off a lunch or a coffee/tea pick-me-up he got on the way. your co-workers often tease you for it, asking you if you're secretly dating one of the models to your embarrassment. ("that can land you an hr case, y'know," an intern had joked.)

the most modest out of the three, but there will be times when some of his skin shows and it's like seeing a victorian's ankle for the first time. especially in regards to his legs, when he wears shorts, there's just this hug that surrounds his thighs so securely that the muscles can sometimes be visible through the fabric.

often gets you a small, yet artfully arrayed bouquet of flowers from the local flower shop just because "he felt like it." always feels like such a delight for him when he finds them the morning after in a vase with flowers sitting somewhere in the apartment.

otoya

mentioned this in an earlier post, but he'll often curate some monthly-ish playlists for you with songs he think you'll take a liking to. helps you introduce yourself to more genres and more artists, though he's already quite impressed with how knowledgeable you are with music.

lets you borrow his good headphones—the one where the bass booms perfectly and the melodies sound more crisp to let you fully enjoy the music.

when you first came to the loft, wow did he try his hardest to impress you. walked around shirtless even in cold weather and would try to subtly flex his muscles. often would help you grab things that were above you even if you could easily reach it ("let me help you with that, babe." "go put five bucks in the douchebag jar.")

second-best dressed next to yukki. often will post a fit check on his insta and if you're ever around, he'll insist on capturing his photo with you in it. it both serves as him flexing he has a cute girl by his side and may just boil the jealousies of his side chicks. he won't tag you though, aware of the other people that may ask who you are if they slide up (also because he likes the attention to be on him)

touchy. likes to put his head in your lap during movie nights so you can play with his hair (he uses men's 5-in-1 shampoo, how the hell is it so soft and healthy?!) or will "accidentally" lean against you on the couch if he's really zoning in on some video games.

gets a bit upset when you befriend his hook-ups. he'll sometimes wake up to you and whatever girl he had the night prior chatting and laughing about at the table as if you've been best friends for forever and can't help but feel disappointment for whatever reason.

a/n: @okkotsuus for u my dearest 💐!

[koipudding]

— APARTMENT 345. (PT I)

synopsis: moving into a new apartment with three men isn't exactly the most easy feat, but you think there's something quite unusual about your new roommates that makes life seem a little more fun. (prequel) ↳ episode synopsis: you suspect that one of your roommates has it out for you, making things a little more than awkward when you and him have a day off together. feat. karasu, otoya, yukimiya || wc: 3.6k contains: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, roommates au, modern au, fluff, misunderstandings, an attempt at crack (pls laugh), aged-up characters (20s), pov switches, more of a focus on karasu in this

You think your roommates are weird.

Not weird in a bad sense, but just... odd.

Their dynamic with each other is especially a little peculiar, considering none of them act the same way with one another, their personalities always twisting just a bit when interacting with the other roommate. But it's still clear there's this unspoken harmony between the three of them that upholds the peace in the loft. You just struggle to fit yourself in it to help the foundation of it all—as it's clear you're not a part of their little circle. At least not yet.

Yukimiya is by far the most normal one out of the trio and perhaps the one you've talked to the most.

A true gentleman at heart, he's always the first to greet you in the morning as you sleepily daze into the kitchen, a steaming black coffee at the ready in your cup for customization. You come home later than the others, but he'll always save some leftovers for you in the fridge for you to munch on, your name written in neat handwriting with a smiley face adorning glasses on an orange post-it plastered on the container.

You blame it on not really knowing each other that well, but you find he's the most docile with you. Him, Karasu, and Otoya have known each other since their high school days, so it's quite normal of them to bicker childishly with each other, but when it comes to you, you always see a rather gentle smile on his face. You think it looks a little fake, though, as if it's there by default.

Otoya is humorous by nature. He's funny without trying, without having to crack a smile from himself. In fact, you rarely ever see him smile, just always has a sleepy look to his face as he says the oddest things known to mankind and is often the starter to meaningless conversations.

"I feel like we should domesticate bears," he had said one time out of the blue. "I think they're too cute to not be pets."

"They'd bite yer head off an instant, dumbass," Karasu told him as he flipped a page in his magazine, to which Otoya nonchalantly shrugged.

"If it means I can pet them, then I'd take the risk," he said simply stated before stalking off to his room that always smells just a little bit fruity and sweet (It didn't take you long to figure out whose Pineapple Ice Lost Mary was on the kitchen island).

He wears weird t-shirts too. Aside from the "I ♡ MILFS" shirt you saw when you first met each other, some of your other personal favorites include his firetruck red shirt that simply reads "i have a bomb." in plain black Arial font and his beige long-sleeve that displayed a cartoon cat yelling "Chicken Parmesan!" in a graphic speech bubble. Clearly wearing them with no shame, you ask Otoya where he gets such... unique... t-shirts, to which the latter replied,

"Goodwill."

Karasu is the one roommate you haven't cracked fully yet. By far, he's the weirdest.

Even though he was the first person you had met when you were first being interviewed, he tends to keep to himself. Something in your gut says that he's staying away from you, purposely keeping himself at arm's length. He's still cordial, but unlike the other two, he doesn't really seem to spare much words with you. The most he'll usually do is just remind you that it's garbage day, but other than that, he rarely ever speaks more than sentence to you on the weekly.

Because of such, you think you have to walk on eggshells around him, always apprehensive that you'll make one wrong move that'll for sure root a dislike towards you with him when it's clear he doesn't really seem to favor you all that much. He'll give a nod of acknowledgement at you if you pass each other in the halls and will ask if he can borrow a charger, but nothing more personal. You figure that might be best—it's better to have a roommate who barely knows who you are but exist with you peacefully instead of a roommate who constantly butts heads with you.

So when you finally have a day to yourself that just so happens to coincide with Karasu's, you are nothing less of tense.

And to think you were going to spend the day finishing up on your soap opera with your pals Ben and Jerry! You were looking forward to having the loft to yourself, so when you see Karasu lounging on the couch and watching a soccer match, your stomach plummets. Otoya gets home at around 5:00pm, while Yukimiya gets home at around 6:30pm, meaning you'll be stuck with Karasu for at least a full seven hours.

Karasu notices you as you walk out of the hallway, turning his head towards you when you come into view. You freeze suddenly, body going rigid as his deep navy eyes bore into you.

Your surprise still lingers in your body, even as you open your mouth to try and greet him, but nothing comes out.

A brow raises from him. "Hi...?"

"Oh! Uh," you twitch, trying to recompose yourself. "Good morning—!"

"Mornin'," he quietly greets back after a confused moment of silence at your reaction.

When you stiffly shuffle towards the kitchen, you want to crumble and whine. Back still facing your roommate as you pour yourself a cup of coffee, you ask, "You don't have work today?"

"Nah," Karasu says boredly, "Boss took an early vacation, so everyone got the day off today."

"A-ah, I see," you quietly reply back with a thick tongue. Fighting the urge to wail aloud at the fact you'll be sharing a space with the one roommate that seems a little too far from your reach, you escape back to your room with your breakfast, not really wanting to be around him.

You were planning to do so much today! Clean up the loft, do some stretching on the balcony to catch some sunlight, cook up some meals in the open kitchen, but of course your luck doesn't bestow upon you today, as doing all of those would mean Karasu would be in your vicinity.

The mattress creaks when you miserably land on top of it, pillow soaking in your whines and sighs. You suppose your room will have to suffice.

On the other side of the wall, Karasu swiftly pulls out his phone, head clamoring with thoughts and questions as he opens up the "alvin & the chipmunks" groupchat in his contacts.

karasu (10:34) : eita —otoya (10:36) : wat karasu (10:36) : u told me her day off was next week friday —otoya (10:38) : ya, the last friday of the month —yukimiya (10:39) : Check your calendar, Eita karasu (10:39) : yea exactly. it's today u fucking buffoon —otoya (10:39) : wait fr —otoya (10:39) : fackkk im late on my credit payment again

Karasu smacks his hand to his forehead, cursing Otoya under his breath. Of course he misread the dates. Now he's stuck here with you for the next few hours and he doesn't quite know what to do.

—otoya (10:42) : idk what ur deal is shes nice —yukimiya (10:42) : Agreed. I think you just need to talk to her karasu (10:43) : u guys dont get it —yukimiya (10:45) : Why? Does she make you nervous?

A dry swallow passes through Karasu's sandy throat as he reads Yukimiya's text. Even though it was quite a loud secret, Karasu couldn't deny the fact you did, in fact, make him somewhat on edge. But not for the reason you think.

It wasn't his fault. He didn't expect you to be so attractive in real life given that your contact information's profile picture was simply just your first initial. How was he supposed to act when such a pretty thing is around him at nearly all times? He's never been very good with women the way his roommates are. Terrified of making an accidental wrong move, Karasu distanced himself away from you, trying to make himself scarce in fear of doing so.

He groans before typing his reply back.

karasu (10:47) : no

Otoya replies back in an instant, and Karasu thinks he should put hair removal cream in his shampoo at his response.

—otoya (10:47) : liar lmfaooo bet someones got a crush uwu

He grits his teeth, trying to fight the blush that he can feel creeping on his cheeks.

karasu (10:47) : stfu moron karasu (10:48) : as if u weren't making goo goo eyes at her yesterday morning —otoya (10:48) : not my fault! —otoya (10:48) : theres just sumn abt a cute girl in a large tshirt and short shorts... 🤔 really makes u think... karasu (10:49) : bro thinks hes aristotle —yukimiya (10:50) : Please stay respectful

Yukimiya then texts something that makes Karasu's brain fizz out ever so slightly. He frowns.

—yukimiya (10:50) : Tabito, why don't you take this time to do something with her to get to know her? To help break the ice —otoya (10:50) : yaaa like yk how me and her went to that flea market together —yukimiya (10:51) : Yes exactly. Or how she and I visited that pop-up shop down on 5th

As much as he'd hate to admit it, Yukimiya did have a point. You got along with the other two men just fine, even having the ability to crack teasing jokes with them without a misunderstanding flying about. But he knew if he even tried to do something of such with you, if you took it the wrong way, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

karasu (10:55) : idk —yukimiya (10:56) : It doesn't have to be extravagant. Just something casual —otoya (10:59) : ye like what chappell roan says🫡 —yukimiya (10:59) : That's not what that song is about —otoya (10:59) : oh...

Karasu shuffles his phone to the side and settles woefully into the couch. He shifts his eyes to your closed door, where he knows you're in probably not giving him the time of day.

On the other hand, you're wallowing in your misery still, trying to think of what to do that escapes Karasu's radius around you. Perhaps you should go to a museum? Or maybe try out that new pottery place down the block.

You opt for going to the grocery store, thinking that be a good distraction and would allow you to get some fresh air. Maybe you should try out that pasta recipe you've been seeing all over social media nowadays.

You launch up in your bed, determined to make this day about yourself and not to allow yourself just simply mope around in your room as you march towards the door. Hand grasping the doorknob, you fling it open, ready to clean yourself up in the bathroom but instead find yourself facing Karasu, who has a hand up that was clearly ready to knock on your door.

You jump back. "Oh! Hi there!"

"Ah," Karasu slowly puts his fist down, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry. Didn't mean t'startle ya."

"No, you're fine," you choke out, wondering what business Karasu may have that landed him at your door. "Did... did you need something?"

You wince at your tone, since it comes out a little sharper than you intended. Karasu seems to have noticed it, seeing as how he thins his lips ever so slightly.

"Uh... well," he starts slowly. "Was just wonderin' if you needed anythin' from the store. I'm 'bout to head down there to do some shoppin'."

You blink owlishly at his comment before giving a stiff, brief chuckle. "What a coincidence," you mention, "I was actually gonna go there myself in a few."

You think of this as your chance to perhaps finally get some breathing space for yourself. An elation fills yourself at the thought, and you begin to conjure up your list to give him, but then he says something that brings the former feeling of tension back into you, heaving you down like sand.

Karasu juts his hands in his pockets, turning to directly face you, his red ears hidden from view from you, curtained by his dark hair.

"Well, if that's the case," he begins all too nonchalantly, going to share your gaze. "D'ya want to tag along?"

And now you're here, side-by-side in a semi-crowded market with the one roommate who you don't even know the age of.

Something in your common sense attempts to get the thought of he doesn't actually hate you through your head. But you still can't help the fact that every time you brush against him, when he looks at you, you think he's sending you a warning.

In Karasu's eyes, however, when he scanned the area of the market, he notices that it's quite busy, so he understands that there'll probably be some times where you just accidentally bump into him to avoid running into others, his eyes flickering to you each to just make sure you're okay.

"Jeez, this much for apples?" you exasperate as you put down the bag of the fruit.

Karasu looks over your shoulder, his cologne suddenly filling your senses. Sweet... you think, yet woody. A slight hint of sage, perhaps?

"Yer better off just gettin' the individual ones," he points out and juts his thumb behind him, breaking you out of your trance. "Y'can get the same amount for cheaper by a buck or so."

"Oh, really?" you perk up and whip your head around to view how much the individually stacked apples were, but before you can process it, you spin around too fast and twist over your own feet.

An elderly woman on a motorized shopping cart is just a few feet shy away from you, and you brace for impact from running into it, but you feel a yank of your arm tug you back just in time.

"Woah there," Karasu is quick to pull you in close to his chest, letting the elderly woman glide by without another care in the world. "Don't get too hasty now."

You feel heat skitter over your face, embarrassed at the fact that you can't even move your own limbs properly around him. You should've just stayed back home, sighing internally at how impulsive you could get. To think you could withstand an entire shopping trip with your roommate that you think stays away from you when you couldn't even stand being in the same room as him!

You mumble an apology, Karasu's cologne wavering about you again in an attempt to calm down.

He suddenly lets out a deep chuckle, the vibration of it thundering from his chest. You lift you chin up to see him... smiling? And it isn't one of those stiff ones that he often gives you nor the smirk he'd throw at Otoya or Yukimiya, it's a genuine one, one that shows his teeth and makes his eyes crinkle.

"Didn't think someone could get so excited 'bout mere apples," he remarks with a grin.

An incredulous stare glazes over your eyes, a lighter feeling in your chest suddenly gracing upon it.

Karasu takes notice of your staring and freezes. A dread leaks itself within his body, making him go rigid all of a sudden. Oh, he's really done it now. He can't go making such teasing jokes around you like you were Otoya or Yukimiya. You're not a guy either, it's not polite to be making such jokes around a girl barely knows.

An apology attempts to conjure in his tightened throat, but it dissolves the moment that he sees you break out into a smile yourself.

"Sorry," you breathe through a breezy laugh. "Economy's so bad nowadays that any good deal will get me reeling, y'know?"

Karasu's eyes soften when he spots your relaxed smile, one he's seen in passing but never to him, until now. And when you adorn it towards him and him only, he can't help but feel a fluttering feeling in his chest.

Yukimiya's words echo in his head. Break the ice.

"If that's the case," Karasu starts slowly. "The weather's gettin' peachy now. There's an actual farmer's market openin' soon downtown, and they sell their stuff for way cheaper than this crap."

He chews on the inside of his cheek, trying to avert his gaze away from your curious, awaiting one. He thinks those doe eyes could definitely beat a puppy's any day.

His breath hitches, confidence slowly building and falling as the seconds tick by.

Just break the ice.

"Would..." he coughs, clearing his throat. "W-would y'wanna go there with me... to check it out... next Saturday...?"

Karasu dares to turn his eyes back to you, where he finds you fondly smiling at him, assurance all over your features.

"I'd quite like that," you reply warmly.

The chicken plops into the pan with a hearty splat. Karasu winces.

"Shoot," he mutters, feeling a bit of the orange sauce flickering onto himself. "Didn't mean t'drop it that hard... did it get on ya?"

"A little bit," you laugh as you scoop up a bit of it from your arm and tasting it. Karasu looks for a sign of approval on your end to see if the pasta sauce is good on your favor and sighs when you nod contently. "Mm. Not bad."

The door to the loft clicks open and you avert your gaze to it after you sprinkle some salt into the boiling pot of water. In comes Yukimiya and Otoya, chattering about.

"Hi there," you greet, waving a hand.

Yukimiya is first to notice you both, surprise on his features when he sees his two roommates that had barely seemed to acknowledge each other since your move-in standing next to each other in the kitchen, cooking out of all things.

It's a domestic scene, one he thinks that you and Karasu would only accomplish in a year's-time or so given the current atmosphere. So it comes to a pleasant shock to him that the bull-headed Karasu actually took his advice for once and broke the ice by himself like a big boy.

"Smells good," Otoya hums contently and spots you and Karasu after Yukimiya. "Whatcha both cookin'? And can I have some?"

Otoya peers over Karasu's shoulder, the latter lightly shoving him back before Otoya can dip his dirty finger into the sauce. "Hold it, ya idjit. We're nearly done, relax."

"If you're able to actually, Otoya," you call over and jut your head towards the oven. "The garlic bread should be done by now. Would you mind taking it out so it can cool?"

"Can I get a piece?" Otoya asks, cheering under his breath when you nod as you roll your eyes.

Yukimiya watches as your pour in some pasta into the pot, noticing the way Karasu whistles haughtily as you laugh when the water violently bubbles.

"Ah, is this the marry-me chicken pasta I told you about the other day?" he asks, fighting a disappointment the builds when he acknowledges that he wasn't the one that got to cook it with you but rather Karasu, despite you and him have built a weekly-habit of cooking with one another.

"Yep!" you chime happily without a care in the world.

"I still think that the sauce is missin' somethin'," Karasu mutters. "Like there's not enough zing."

You peer over to him and take a little bit of the spare lemon leftover, squeezing a bit of it over the sauce and chicken. You take a spare spoon and sipping a bit of it. You then bring the spoon and its leftovers to Karasu's lips absentmindedly for him to try. "How's that?"

He pauses for a minute, breath hitching as you bring the same spoon that your lips touched for his to as well. He stutters but goes to lean in anyway, slurping it and tasting that tang that was missing.

Otoya's eyes narrow slightly as he places down the platter of bread.

Yukimiya's lips pull into a small frown.

You blink up at him. "Is that okay? I just added some more lemon."

"Yeah," Karasu breathes as steadily as he can muster. "yeah, it's good. Thanks."

"(Y/N)," Yukimiya announces aloud suddenly, averting your gaze to the brunette. He fixes on his usual demure smile on his face the moment you spotlight him. "Remember that new cafe that was being built around the corner? Turns out they're opening next weekend, d'you want to come with me?"

"Ah..." Otoya mutters lowly as he crunches on a piece of bread. "Why are you only inviting her?"

"I thought you guys don't like coffee," Yukimiya says casually, lips still fixed ever so lightly, but Otoya can tell there's a mild mockery behind that pretty face of his.

"I guess so," the latter says, sighing. "But... there's also the record shop also has its monthly 50% off sale on Saturday, remember, (Y/N)?"

Otoya's eyes go to glance at the record player you placed in the living room for decoration, yours and Otoya's collection of records piling up beneath it, your music tastes being one the things that you were able to break the ice with Otoya about. "I spotted that record you were talking about the other day, pretty sure it'll be a part of the sale if we can go next week."

A small bit of pity grazes on your face as you guiltily look back on the both of them from the kitchen island. Karasu fights the urge to smirk when he turns over the chicken in the pan, already knowing what you're going to say to them.

You scratch your cheek, smiling a little sadly at the two of them.

"I'm sorry guys, I'd love to go but," you wave a hand towards Karasu, who gives into temptation and throws a sly smile over his shoulder from behind you that makes the men you face frown and purse their lips. "Karasu and I have plans already that day to go to the opening of the farmer’s market..."

a/n. my re-run of new girl has inspired new heights it seems. also don't talk to me if u dont think otoya would vape bc ik that mf would hit a geek bar any time of the day /j (don't follow his example tho. keep them lungs clean, kids)

sorry that this was more focused on karasu than all three of them, but i prommy yukki and otoya will get their spotlight next time i write abt them (which will be soon hopefully! im having fun with this au)

thank you for reading as always! comments and reblogs are the best way to support your writers; they're always appreciated and never unnoticed <3

[koipudding]

Kaiser with a tongue piercing… the thought, the concept is driving me insane

[koipudding]

michael kaiser who is a terrible boyfriend but also perfect.

michael kaiser who braids ur hair for u before u sleep because u don’t want it to be too knotty (it’s done evilly to manipulate u)

michael kaiser who tucks u in and talks u to sleep if u ask for it because u always tell him his voice is nice (done evilly so that when ur asleep he can do evil things to u)

michael kaiser who brings u to every single one of his matches and lets the public know about ur relationship and growls at every other woman that might try and hit on him (done evilly to isolate u)

michael kaiser who gives u 50000 euros if u ask for 5 to buy something at the store (done evilly to make sure ur dependant on him)

michael kaiser who never lets u walk on the side of the pavement closest to the side of the road (done evilly because he wants to be the only one to hurt u)

michael kaiser who actually feels a semblance of pity and caring towards u after he hurts u, whether it’s punching, fucking, choking whatever the sick guy does to u and he actually bandages u up after and kisses u and tells u he’s sorry (done evilly so u can never quite escape him)

michael kaiser who tries to cook for u sometimes when he notices ur a little worn down, or sick, or hears u fawning over some stupid meal u saw on tiktok, and he’s not the best cook but when u dig into what he makes for u and smile up at him his heart grows a bit (it’s done evilly so u think it’s safe to eat his food for when he decides to poison it)

michael kaiser who indulges himself in all of ur random interests, learns all the sanrio characters, learns all the random video games u enjoyed playing in ur childhood; and he actually participates in playing them too (done evilly to make u trust him, the more he knows about u the better)

michael kaiser who feels bad when u cry, and wipes ur tears away, licks them up and pets ur head and affirms u that everything will be fine and u just have to tell him what’s bothering u and he’ll fix it for u no matter what it is (done evilly so u act vulnerable around him more often)

michael kaiser who actually attends therapy for u and tries to better himself and be a good boyfriend (he can’t even think of an excuse for this one anymore)

michael kaiser who realises that maybe he isn’t the evil subhuman he always thought he was and he actually might just love u. like a really pure tender love that he didn’t even think he would ever have the pleasure of feeling. when he looks at u he just feels warm inside, he doesn’t feel anything bad, unless u count the sickness that washes over him at his revelation that he really does love u.

kaiser who is conflicted, he doesn’t want u to leave, but maybe that shitty therapy has rubbed off on him; he doesn’t want to manipulate u really to make u stay. he just… he wants to confide in u and put his trust in u that u won’t leave him. he wears his heart on his sleeve around u and he trusts u.

michael kaiser who really has, mostly, changed. and he’s not even sure why. he feels disgusted at himself, but when he sees ur sleeping form next to him he knows it’s worth it. u don’t deserve a broken terrible boyfriend, u deserve someone nice. but he’s the only nice someone u deserve.

michael kaiser who just really adores u, and is so grateful that ur in his life. michael kaiser who lays awake in his bed full of ur blankets and plushies and just u in general. lays awake with u sleeping on his chest and sighs. he didn’t think he would ever be able to love, or be loved, but he gets the appeal now. he is so full of u and u are so full of him. love isn’t what his parents had, or even what he somehow twisted ness into feeling for him. love is… this. and the thing that scares him the most is that he wouldn’t change it for the world.

but the scariest part is when u stir from ur sleep and kiss him on the cheek and ask him what’s the matter, and he tells u nothing and kisses u back, the scariest thing is he wasn’t lying. everything dissipated when u gave him 3 seconds of ur attention. ur really the remedy to all of his problems. that’s scary, but not really, because his chest is less constricted and he’s falling asleep too after ur tender kiss to his cheek. actually, the future doesn’t scare him at all anymore, nothing is like before.

hi everyone :0