The pretty girlfriend

The Bastard München locker room was usually a place of calculated arrogance and clinical analysis. The air usually smelled of expensive cologne, recycled oxygen, and the metallic tang of ambition. But today, the atmosphere was thick with a different kind of energy: mischief.

Michael Kaiser sat on the plush leather bench, leaning back with his arms spread across the headrest. He looked every bit the emperor he claimed to be, his blue-tipped hair perfectly coiffed despite the morning training session they had just finished. However, his usual icy composure was being chipped away by the glowing screens held in the hands of his teammates.

"Oh, look at this one," Ness chirped, though his voice held a strange mixture of genuine awe and forced playfulness. He held his phone out so the rest of the team could see. "The headline reads: 'The Emperor’s Muse: Is This the Woman Who Tamed the Blue Rose?'"

Kaiser let out a sharp, dismissive huff. "The media lives for hyperbole, Alexis. Put the phone away."

"Wait, wait, don't stop yet," Grimm interrupted, leaning over Ness’s shoulder. "I like the sports blog comments better. Listen to this: 'I didn’t even watch the match highlights; I just watched the fan-cam of Kaiser’s girl pouting when they missed a goal. She’s officially the 12th player on the pitch.'"

Kaiser’s eyes narrowed. He remembered that pout. He remembered how her cheeks had flushed a dusty rose color under the stadium lights, and how she had looked so small yet so radiant in his jersey. He also remembered exactly what she had done for him later that night to soothe his bruised ego after the game—the way she had looked up at him with those wide, adoring eyes, her lips glistening, and the heat of her mouth making him forget every single person in the world existed except for her.

The memory sent a jolt of possessiveness through him. He reached for his water bottle, taking a slow sip to hide the tightening of his jaw.

"The internet is losing it over the height difference," Kurona murmured from the corner, scrolling through a Twitter thread. "People are calling you a 'towering menace' and her a 'pocket-sized angel.' There’s a viral edit of that photo you posted last night. You know, the one where your hand is literally covering her entire waist?"

"It’s a good photo," Kaiser said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register. "I was marking my territory. It’s a concept you lot should understand. Ownership."

"Ownership? Michael, you look like a dragon guarding a pile of gold," Ness laughed, though he quickly stifled it when Kaiser shot him a glare. "But look at the comments on your Instagram! 'He looks like he’d burn the stadium down if someone breathed on her.' 'The way he’s holding her... he’s definitely the one who begs for cuddles at night.'"

The locker room went silent for a heartbeat. Then, a roar of laughter erupted.

Kaiser didn't snap back. He didn't offer a witty insult or a condescending remark about their lack of talent. He simply stared at his cleats, a faint, uncharacteristic smear of red creeping up his neck.

"He’s not denying it," Isagi Yoichi remarked, walking past the group toward his locker. He glanced at Kaiser with a smirk that was far too observant for Kaiser’s liking. "The 'Emperor' is actually a subordinate when he’s off the clock, isn't he?"

"Watch your mouth, Yoichi," Kaiser snapped, but the bite wasn't there.

"I found an 'insider' quote on a gossip forum!" Grimm shouted, waving his phone like a trophy. "Listen to this: 'A source close to the German ace claims that Kaiser is actually 'down bad.' He refuses to go to after-parties if she isn't there, buys her flowers every Tuesday for no reason, and reportedly has a gallery on his phone dedicated entirely to her sleeping. He’s a total goner.'"

Kaiser remained silent. He thought about the bouquet of peonies currently sitting on Mimi’s vanity—not because it was Tuesday, but because she had mentioned she liked the scent three weeks ago. He thought about the three hundred and forty-two photos he had of her, half of which were indeed of her sleeping peacefully against his chest.

"Is it true, Kaiser?" Ness asked, his eyes wide with curiosity. "Are you really... a romantic?"

Kaiser stood up, his tall frame casting a shadow over the bench. He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. The team braced for a lecture on his greatness or a sharp reminder of their place in his hierarchy.

Instead, Kaiser adjusted his collar and looked toward the door. "If being 'down bad' means I have the most beautiful woman in the world waiting for me at home while you lot spend your nights arguing with strangers on the internet, then I’ll take the title."

He paused at the threshold, looking back over his shoulder. "And the flowers are for Wednesdays, not Tuesdays. Get your facts straight if you’re going to stalk my life."

The door swung shut behind him, leaving the room in a stunned silence.

"Did he just... admit it?" Grimm whispered.

"He didn't even try to fight us," Ness said, sounding almost disappointed. "He’s truly lost."

Outside, Kaiser walked toward the parking lot, his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out to see a notification from Instagram. Mimi had tagged him in a story. It was a mirror selfie of her in his oversized hoodie, her hair messy and her eyes sleepy, with the caption: 'Waiting for my favorite player to come home. <3'

Kaiser felt that familiar, tight ache in his chest—the one that only she could provoke. He didn't care about the viral pictures or the headlines. He didn't care that his teammates thought he was soft.

He tapped on his own post from the night before, scrolling through the millions of likes and the thousands of comments calling them 'goals.' His thumb hovered over the image of his hand on her waist. He remembered the feeling of her skin under his palm, the way she had melted into him, and the way she had tasted later that night when he finally had her all to himself.

He typed a quick text as he reached his car.

Stop wearing my clothes and posting it. You’re making it impossible for me to drive safely.

A second later, his phone buzzed.

'Then hurry up. I’m wearing even less underneath.'

Kaiser’s grip on his steering wheel tightened. He didn't care about being an emperor right now. He just wanted to be hers. He pulled out of the lot, leaving the stadium and the noise of the world behind, his only goal being the woman who had managed to conquer the man no one else could touch.