a-deadbeat-writer

One-shots or full fanfics

x Y/n or x OCs

SFW or NSFW

Title: soft obsession

Pairing: Mikey X Reader

Summary: Y/N just wanted to admire Mikey from a respectful stalker-ish distance. But one accidental face-cupping session and a very inconvenient sniff later, she’s suddenly his tutor..?

What started as a quiet obsession?

Is now a full-blown academic crisis.

—

Lunch break came like it always did, announced by the shrill ring of the school bell and the scraping of chairs. Students poured out the door, loud and laughing—except for one.

You stayed behind.

Everyone was too distracted to notice, and that’s how you liked it. You kept your head down, fiddling with your pen until the room was nearly silent again. The only person still there… was him.

Mikey.

His blond head rested lazily on his folded arms, eyelashes brushing against flushed cheeks, the rhythm of his breathing soft and steady. He was asleep. Peaceful. Vulnerable.

Perfect.

Your heart pounded. You knew how insane this was—staying behind like some obsessed freak. But something stronger than shame kept you frozen in place. Something deeper. You stepped toward him without thinking, each footstep featherlight, careful not to wake him.

He looked like a dream up close. His features softened in sleep, skin kissed by sunlight leaking through the blinds. His hair looked almost white in the light.

You hesitated for just a second.

Then, as if possessed by a hunger too quiet to resist, you reached out and cupped his face.

Warm. Soft.

He didn’t stir.

Your fingers traced the curve of his jaw, lingering longer than they should have. This was the closest you’d ever been—no desks between you, no noise, no crowd. Just the two of you. Alone.

And then—

“Mmm…”

The soft sound came from his throat, and to your horror and thrill, Mikey leaned further into your touch. He murmured something under his breath, voice thick with sleep.

“…nice smell…”

You froze.

Your breath caught in your throat. He could smell you?

Heat exploded in your chest, blooming like fire under your skin. You snatched your hand back like you’d just touched an open flame. What were you doing?! This wasn’t you. You weren’t this kind of girl—

Draken.

Panic shot through you. He’d only gone to grab lunch—he could be back any second.

You turned on your heel and rushed to the door, trying to keep your steps quiet, trying not to breathe.

But as you reached the exit—

Click.

Footsteps.

Draken stepped into the hallway just as you slipped out, your gaze brushing his before you quickly looked down and passed him.

He paused, brow furrowing.

Why was she leaving so late? Wasn’t she in class with them? Why stay behind when only Mikey was there?

He glanced inside, saw Mikey still snoozing like nothing had happened, and shook his head.

“Probably nothing,” he muttered, stepping in.

The rest of the day dragged by like normal—or so it seemed.

But for Draken… something felt off.

He couldn’t explain it. Just a strange itch on the back of his neck. A tension in his gut. Every time he and Mikey walked the halls, he felt it—eyes. Watching.

At first, he thought it was just paranoia. Nosy girls giggling over Mikey, maybe. Nothing new.

But then he caught it.

A flicker. A shadow ducking around a corner.

He spun around—too slow. Just a glimpse of hair, slipping away.

“…Weird,” he muttered.

“You say something?” Mikey asked, stretching lazily beside him.

“Nah.” Draken’s gaze lingered behind them.

He couldn’t shake it.

The shrine always felt sacred. Quiet. But today, it felt like something was hiding in the silence.

Draken scanned the area as they approached. The others were already at the steps—smoking, chatting, arguing. Mikey looked calm as ever, hands in his pockets, face tilted toward the sky.

But Draken?

He saw it again.

Behind the trees. A shadow. Movement.

He didn’t say a word. Just veered subtly toward the woods.

And then—

Bam.

He lunged, tackling the figure in the brush. A muffled yelp as he grabbed a hood and yanked them forward.

“What the hell—!” he growled, half dragging the figure into the open. “You think I wouldn’t notice?!”

Everyone turned, alert—until they saw.

You.

The soft-faced girl from class. Hoodie up. Eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“…What the—” someone muttered.

“What are you doing here?” Draken demanded, loosening his grip but still holding you steady. “You followin’ us or something?”

All eyes were on you.

But only one gaze made your skin burn.

Mikey stepped forward, slow and curious. He stopped just in front of you, unnervingly calm as he studied your face.

Then… he sniffed.

Subtle. But intentional.

His eyes sharpened.

“This smell…” he murmured, gently taking your wrist and lifting it to his face.

Your heart nearly stopped.

“I’ve smelled this before.”

He inhaled again. Slower. Surer.

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Where did I…?”

Then it clicked. His gaze locked with yours, recognition flashing behind the haze of sleep.

“You were in the classroom.”

You panicked.

“N-No! We never talked,” you said too quickly. “I—I sit behind you. That’s all.”

A pause.

Then Mikey smiled—slow and lazy, like the thought amused him.

“Huh…” he said.

“Maybe school isn’t such a waste after all.”

You blinked. “What?”

“If there’s a pretty girl like you sittin’ behind me…” He scratched the back of his neck, still smiling. “Guess I gotta start payin’ more attention.”

Then, in the softest, most casual voice:

“Sorry about Draken.”

You blinked again, startled. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t asking questions.

He was… apologizing.

As if you weren’t the one who’d followed them.

As if you hadn’t just been caught hiding in the bushes.

Heat crawled up your neck. “I-It’s okay,” you mumbled.

Mikey hummed, eyes still fixed on you. Calm, but sharp. Like he was studying your soul.

He reached out and brushed a leaf from your hair. “You missed something,” he said simply.

You stiffened.

Someone scoffed behind him.

“Yo, Mikey,” Baji called. “Since when do you care if a girl’s got leaves in her hair?”

Mikey didn’t look away. Just shrugged. “Since now.”

The group blinked.

Even Draken raised an eyebrow.

Peh-yan leaned toward Mitsuya. “Bro… is he okay? He never talks to girls unless it’s about food.”

“I’m watching this like a live drama,” Mitsuya whispered back.

Draken stepped forward. “Mikey,” he said lowly, “she was literally stalking us.”

“Not stalking,” you mumbled, eyes on the dirt. “I just… didn’t know how to talk to you.”

“See?” Mikey said. “She just wanted to talk.”

“That doesn’t make it less weird.”

Mikey looked over his shoulder at him, blank but firm. “I don’t care.”

Silence again.

You shifted, unsure if you should run or evaporate. But Mikey turned back before you could decide.

“What’s your name?”

You hesitated. “…Y/N.”

He nodded slowly.

“Well, Y/N…” He stepped closer. “Next time you wanna talk, just come say hi.”

You stared up at him, stunned.

Then he leaned in, close enough to murmur:

“You don’t have to hide.”

Your eyes widened. Your heart thudded so loud it hurt.

He knows. He knows what you did.

And he doesn’t care.

Worse—he might’ve liked it.

Even with Toman watching, the world had narrowed to just the two of you. Mikey’s stare was steady. Unreadable. Like he’d looked through thousands of people before you… and found them boring.

But not you.

Whether that was a blessing or a curse—you weren’t sure.

“Alright,” Mitsuya called, breaking the tension, “soap opera’s over. Let’s get to the meeting.”

The others drifted away, still side-eyeing you. But Mikey didn’t move.

He looked you over one last time.

“You gonna run again?”

“…No.”

His smile tugged up, slow and real. “Good.”

You swallowed.

“And if I wanted to talk to you again…?”

He raised a brow, amused. “I already told you.”

He reached up—gently twisting a strand of your hair around his finger.

“I’m not hard to find.”

Then he turned and walked away like none of it mattered.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

Like he didn’t just rearrange your entire nervous system.

That night, sleep didn’t come.

You tossed and turned, thoughts a storm of what-ifs and did-that-really-happens. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw him.

Leaning into your touch.

Sniffing your wrist.

Saying your name like it already belonged to him.

Your body still remembered it.

Eventually, you gave up and opened your phone. Scrolled past homework screenshots. Past saved memes. Past—

There it was.

A blurry photo. Taken behind a corner. Mikey in sunlight. Asleep.

You stared at it, guilt twisting in your chest.

You were insane. Obsessed. Creepy.

And yet…

He smiled.

Touched your hair.

Asked your name.

Instead of shame, you felt something worse.

Longing.

You locked your phone and sat up in the dark.

Tomorrow.

You had to see him again tomorrow.

But maybe this time… you wouldn’t hide.

The next morning, you walked into class expecting everything to be normal.

Same halls. Same sleepy classmates. Same Mikey, head on his desk.

But today?

He was already sitting up.

Wide awake. Arms crossed. Staring at the door like he’d been waiting.

And when you walked in—his whole face lit up.

“There she is,” he said.

You stopped mid-step.

The whole class turned.

Even the teacher stared, squinting like she was hallucinating.

“Is he… awake?” she whispered.

“Yo, Y/N.”

Mikey smiled. Not the lazy kind—but real. Bright. He even waved.

You stood frozen.

Then—

“You gonna just stand there or sit next to me?”

The class exploded.

“HUHHHH?!”

“Did he just—?!”

“Bro, Mikey’s talking to someone?!”

You were burning alive. But your feet moved. You sat.

Mikey leaned over, chin on his hand.

“Morning,” he murmured.

“…Morning.”

He smiled lazily and turned toward the window like this was totally normal.

But it wasn’t.

Because Mikey was paying attention.

And everyone noticed.

And worse?

He wasn’t stopping.

If anything… he doubled down.

The moment you sat down, he leaned over to peer at your notebook, brows furrowed like he was really trying.

“What’s this word?” he asked, voice low, tapping a sentence with his pen. “It’s all squiggly.”

“…It says ‘photosynthesis.’”

He blinked. “That’s not a real word.”

“It is,” you whispered back, biting back a smile.

He hummed. “Sounds fake.”

You tried to keep your attention on the board, but Mikey kept nudging you with questions. What does that mean? Is that gonna be on the test? Wait, what’s her name again? The teacher?

You weren’t sure what was funnier—his nonsense questions or how genuinely curious he seemed once you started answering them. He even started writing things down.

Not well. Not neatly. But he was trying.

By the third time he leaned in and whispered, “Wait, wait—say it again slower,” Draken had fully turned in his seat.

“…What the hell is going on right now?” he muttered.

Even the teacher paused at one point, blinking at the sight of Mikey actually holding a pen.

She subtly adjusted her glasses, muttering under her breath, “I must be dreaming.”

You, on the other hand, were dying inside. Every time Mikey leaned a little too close or smiled at your notes like they were magic, your pulse skyrocketed.

And he knew it.

“Ohhh, look at that. Your ears turned red again,” he teased halfway through the lecture. “You blushing, Miss Tutor?”

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide. “Don’t call me that—”

“Too late.” He grinned. “It suits you.”

The bell rang all too soon, and the classroom exploded into chatter as everyone gathered their things. But before you could even stand, your teacher called out.

“Y/N?”

You paused mid-motion. “…Yes?”

The woman looked mildly overwhelmed but determined. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

You hesitantly walked up to her desk, bag still slung over your shoulder. Mikey, of course, followed like a shadow.

“I don’t know what you did,” the teacher said, adjusting her glasses again, “but I’ve never seen Mikey this alert during class. Ever. I thought he had a medical condition at one point.”

“…I’m just as surprised as you are,” you admitted.

The teacher gave you a long look. “Well, whatever this is, keep it up. He clearly listens to you.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

“I’m officially assigning you as Mikey’s academic tutor.” She didn’t even blink. “If you can get him to graduate, I’ll personally write your college recommendation letter. Deal?”

Before you could protest, Mikey let out a dramatic gasp behind you. “Did you hear that, Miss Tutor? We’re officially a duo now.”

You groaned. “Oh my God—”

“It’s official,” Mikey said, turning to the class with mock-seriousness. “From now on, address her as Ma’am, Miss, or my Tutor.”

The room fell silent.

Was Mikey ordering them to call you his tutor..

Even Draken couldn’t believe it. “He’s got jokes now? Nah, this is cursed.”

A random student fake-saluted you. “Ma’am. Yes, ma’am.”

“Miss Y/N,” another said, dramatically bowing.

You buried your face in your hands. “I hate all of you.”

Mikey just leaned over again, voice smug and syrup-smooth.

“See you after school, Miss Tutor,” he murmured. “We’ve got studying to do.”

And despite every rational bone in your body screaming at you to stay calm…

You were absolutely screwed.

Lunch break again. This time, you didn’t stay behind. But you felt eyes on you the whole walk down the hallway. Boys staring. Girls whispering.

You ducked your head, embarrassed. Until—

“Y/N!”

His voice rang out behind you, smooth and loud and unmissable.

You turned—and there he was, walking straight toward you with his hands in his pockets, like he had nothing better to do.

“Mikey—” you started, but he kept going.

“You gonna eat alone?”

“…I wasn’t—”

“Cool,” he cut in. “Let’s eat together.”

You blinked. “With who?”

“With me.”

You blinked again.

“…Just us?”

He looked down at you, amused. “Unless you want the others to come.”

Your silence was loud.

He smiled.

“I thought so.”

You sat on the rooftop, the sun high and the wind tangling your hair.

Mikey unwrapped his food casually, legs stretched out, eyes half-lidded like usual. But every so often, his gaze would flick to you. Watching. Curious.

“You ever watch someone sleep again after that day?” he asked suddenly, as if you were in the middle of that conversation.

Your heart stopped and you looked away embarrassed.

“…No.”

He turned to you fully.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

Your eyes widened. “You… what?”

He shrugged, as if this wasn’t the most deranged sentence a sane boy could ever say.

“I liked it.”

You stared at him.

“You’re kidding.”

He shook his head.

“Most people look at me and see Toman.” He glanced up at the clouds. “But you looked at me like I was just… me.”

Your throat tightened.

He looked back.

“I don’t get that a lot.”

The silence between you thickened. Heavy. Meaningful.

You tried to say something—anything—but nothing came out.

He watched you squirm.

Then, almost cruelly soft,

“You gonna follow me again?”

You flushed.

“I—I didn’t—”

“Liar.”

He smiled again. This one different.

He liked the power.

You could tell.

And you?

You liked being at his mercy.

Author’s Note:

Title: After Club Hours

Pairing: Mitsuya X Reader

Summary: You haven’t been acting your usual self so mitsuya asked you to stay after club hours to talk

(Fluff) (a little bit of teasing)

The soft hum of sewing machines fills the room, broken only by the occasional burst of laughter from the girls clustered around Mitsuya. He’s helping one with a pleat, complimenting another on her fabric choice — calm, patient, his usual self.

Effortlessly adored.

Y/N walks in late. Her expression is neutral. Almost too neutral.

She crosses the room without a word, drops her bag with a soft thud, and sits at her usual table. Doesn’t acknowledge anyone. Not even him.

Her fingers reach for her fabric, but she fumbles the threading. Again. And again. Her movements are stiff, rushed. Nothing like her usual steady hands.

Mitsuya notices.

At first, he says nothing. Just watches. Watches how she keeps sighing under her breath, how her eyes flick briefly toward the group gathered around him, then quickly back to her work. Watches how she rolls her eyes when one of the girls calls him by his first name with a giggle. How her jaw ticks when another tries to hand him a canned drink like they’ve known each other forever.

Then her machine jams. The thread catches, loops unevenly. Her hands clench at the sides of the fabric, and for a second, it looks like she might snap.

He moves.

Crosses the room in a few quiet steps.

No words.

He stands behind her now, close enough for her to catch the faint scent of his cologne — clean, woodsy, familiar. His hand reaches out, calm and sure, and rests gently over hers. His fingers guide hers through the tangled thread, slow and careful.

His voice is low, barely above a whisper, right by her ear.

“You’ve been off lately.”

Her breath stutters, caught somewhere between her chest and throat. She doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t dare. She focuses on the cloth instead — eyes sharp, hands suddenly too warm.

He leans a little closer, voice quieter this time.

“You’re not clumsy. You’re not this… tense.”

Pause.

“So what’s wrong with you, recently?”

Still, no answer.

Just the sound of her breath and the fabric crinkling between her fingers.

He exhales, quiet but heavy. Something about her silence clearly gnaws at him.

“Stay back after club. I wanna talk to you.”

Her jaw tightens. Her eyes narrow at the fabric. Her ears are burning.

She mutters, brushing him off without looking:

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

But her voice is tight. Brittle. Like she’s holding something back with both hands.

He doesn’t push. Just lingers a moment longer, his hand warm over hers — grounding, steady — before stepping away and returning to his table.

But the ghost of his touch stays behind.

And she hates how her heartbeat refuses to settle.

⸻

The loudest noise in the room now is the ticking of the wall clock. The once-busy sewing club room feels strangely empty with just the two of them left — chairs pushed in messily, threads and pins scattered across tables, bits of fabric fluttering in the air conditioning.

Y/N sits at her table, arms crossed, pretending to scroll through her phone but really just listening.

Waiting.

Mitsuya is silent too, standing across the room like he wants to say something but can’t find the words.

Then he clears his throat.

“Hey… give me like, one minute. I’ll be right back.”

Before she can even ask where he’s going, he slips out the door.

Y/N frowns. “What the hell…?”

Ten seconds of silence pass. Then thirty. Then two minutes. She gets bored quickly.

Naturally, her curiosity kicks in.

She glances around the room, then stands, slowly walking around with her hands behind her back, humming faintly. She pokes at a pincushion. Opens a drawer. Tugs at a stuck cabinet. Finds a tiny candy wrapper and snorts.

Then—

On the far side of the room, behind some fabric bolts and half-finished mannequins—

A plain, beat-up black sketchbook.

Obviously, she opens it.

And there it is.

Pages and pages of intricate designs — flowing skirts, embroidered sleeves, structured collars. But one page in particular catches her eye: a sketch of a dress, elegant and unique, but drawn with notes like “delicate neckline,” “adjust shoulder for Y/N’s frame,” and…

Her name is literally scribbled in the margins.

Her eyes widen. “What the—”

“You’re really nosy, huh?”

She jumps — actually yelps — and spins around to find Mitsuya standing behind her with a bag of snacks and the smuggest smile on his face.

“You scared the hell out of me!” she snaps, hand on her chest.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

He laughs — full, warm, a little smug.

“You’re the one snooping around like a cartoon raccoon.”

She glares at him, cheeks heating, but he holds up a drink and a little red bean cake like a peace offering.

“Here. I figured maybe you’d calm down if you weren’t hungry.”

She eyes it warily, takes it anyway.

“…Thanks.”

They both sit down, this time side by side. She sets the sketchbook on the table without a word, but it sits there like a secret between them.

After a pause, he glances at it.

“That one — I’ve been meaning to make it for a while. Just haven’t had the right person to try it on.”

He pauses, then smirks lightly.

“Until now.”

She turns slowly toward him, eyes narrowed.

“So let me get this straight. You lured me here with vague emotional concern just to ask if I’d be your mannequin?”

He snorts.

“What? No! I mean, I do want you to be my fit model, but that’s not why I asked you to stay back.”

She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed but flustered.

“You sure?”

He leans back a little, eyes on hers now — not teasing this time, more serious.

“I’ll tell you. But while I’m measuring you.”

She blinks.

“That sounds like a threat.”

He chuckles, rising and grabbing the measuring tape from his desk.

“It’s a promise.”

The last trace of daylight casts golden streaks across the desks as Mitsuya rolls the measuring tape between his fingers, calm as ever. Meanwhile, Y/N is trying not to combust.

“Stand up.”

His voice is smooth, casual.

“Arms out. I won’t take long.”

She obeys, stiffly.

“You’ve done this before, right?” she asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Hundreds of times,” he replies, looping the tape around her shoulders.

“Not usually with someone glaring at me the whole time, though.”

She frowns. “I wasn’t glaring.”

He hums, lips quirking.

“Mhm.”

His hands move to her back, warm and steady as he adjusts the tape. His breath brushes her neck when he leans forward to read the numbers.

“You’ve been clumsy lately,” he says quietly.

“Messing up seams. Dropping pins. Zoning out.”

She shrugs. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

He doesn’t reply right away. His fingers graze the side of her waist, moving deliberately as he measures her torso. The silence thickens.

“Do you not like some of the girls in the club?” he asks next, voice low, tone unreadable.

Y/N’s eyes flick to the side. “Not… anyone in particular.”

He leans in again, just slightly, until his voice brushes against her ear.

“You’ve been staring at me.”

The words are quiet. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just steady. Certain.

“More than usual.”

She stiffens. Breath caught. Her fingers twist at the hem of her sleeve.

“I’m in the same room as you. What do you want me to do, wear blinders?”

His lips twitch.

“You’re not usually this sharp with me.”

She exhales through her nose. Her tone flat, borderline annoyed.

“Maybe I’m tired of seeing your little fan club cling to you every five seconds.”

There’s a pause. One heartbeat. Two.

Then:

“Ah.” His smirk is audible now.

“So you admit it.”

Immediately, she tenses.

“I didn’t say anything.”

He pulls back slowly, walking to the front to check the numbers he just wrote down.

Then — he glances over his shoulder with that smirk.

“Y/N,” he says, dragging her name out just enough to make her want to walk straight into traffic,

“do you get jealous when some of the girls have my attention?”

Silence.

Utter, deafening silence.

She blinks. Once. Twice.

Then:

“What kind of question is that?”

She scoffs, looking everywhere but at him.

“No. Obviously not. You can talk to whoever you want. Why would I care?”

He’s next to her again now, measuring her hips. His knuckles graze her thigh as he adjusts the tape around her lower waist. His voice is lower this time.

“You think I talk to them the way I talk to you?”

She looks at him. Slowly.

Eyes narrowed, chest tight.

“You flirt with me?”

He leans closer, expression unreadable but eyes sharp.

“Do I?”

She goes silent again.

And for a second, he just watches her. Watches the tiny twitch in her jaw, the way her breathing picks up. The way her hands fidget with the hem of her sleeve like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

He finally murmurs:

“You act like you don’t care. But you do. I can feel it.”

She glares weakly, cheeks flushed.

“You’re annoying.”

He just grins.

“And you’re a terrible liar.”

They stay like that for a beat, and then Mitsuya finishes noting the last measurement and rolls the tape around his fingers with practiced ease.

He glances at the neatly coiled tape in his hand, then meets her eyes.

“You’ll tell me eventually,” he says quietly, voice soft but certain.

“I’m very patient.”

“So I guess we’re done, I’ll get going now. See ya—”

Before she can pivot away, he moves in one fluid motion — one hand slams against the wall beside her head, the other on the opposite side, trapping her. His knee slides between her legs, just resting there, a silent reminder of how close they are. The cool plaster presses against her back. Her breath hitches.

“Mitsuya,” she says, voice tight. “What are you doing?”

He’s calm. Always calm.

“Making sure you don’t leave before we finish talking.”

His eyes flick down to her lips, then back up to her eyes, reading every flicker of her expression.

She tries to steel herself — push him away. Instead, her hands press weakly against his chest, feeling the firmness of his uniform shirt.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until I know exactly what’s on your mind.”

Her pulse pounds so loudly she’s sure he can hear it. She struggles for composure:

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lies.

He smirks.

He leans forward, just enough that his breath brushes her hair.

He sinks his knee a fraction closer — gentle, unwavering pressure.

“You’d be surprised how honest you get when you can’t run away.”

She swallows hard, breath caught in her throat. His hands tighten just a hint on the wall, and the air between them vibrates with unspoken confession.

He brushes a stray lock of hair from her face, fingers lingering near her jaw like he’s about to say something else — or do something else — when—

BAM.

The clubroom door slams open, the silence shatters.

“Oh—uh—sorry!” Takemitchy blurts, stumbling halfway inside, hand still on the sliding door.

Peh-yan’s right behind him. “Bro, what did we just walk into—”

Mitsuya doesn’t flinch. Just sighs, long-suffering, and pulls back ever so slightly — hands still braced on the wall, but his knee lowers. The tension in the room deflates like a sad balloon.

Y/N’s eyes go wide, face flushed from neck to forehead. She practically shoves Mitsuya back with both hands this time, glaring daggers.

“What the hell, Mitsuya,” she hisses under her breath. “You trapped me.”

He blinks innocently. “You weren’t exactly struggling.”

“Why are you two even here?!” Y/N snaps.

Takemitchy rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I just—I had to ask Mitsuya something about uniforms, but uh… I’ll come back later. Much, much later.”

Peh’s already pulling him out by the collar, mouthing my bad and mumbling something about timing and how he owes Mitsuya a soda for ruining that moment.

The door clicks shut behind them.

Silence.

Y/N’s still facing away, hands covering her face now.

“They’re never letting me live this down.”

Mitsuya crosses his arms, expression way too satisfied for her liking.

“I don’t see the issue.”

She turns around slowly, eyes narrowed.

“I swear if you say something smug—”

“I wasn’t going to.” He shrugs, stepping back toward her, hands in his pockets now.

“But if I were… I’d say it’s not my fault you look cute when you’re cornered.”

“Mitsuya.”

His lips twitch.

“I’m just saying,” he adds,

“next time we get interrupted, maybe don’t look so into it.”

Her mouth opens. Closes.

She throws a spool of thread at his head.

Title: You drew me?

Pairing: Mikey x Reader

Summary: “You left your diary at my house. And I read those pages, do you really love me, baby?”

(Fluff) (No warnings)

————————————————————————

Y/N had been friends with Emma for as long as she could remember. The two were inseparable, and Emma’s house had always been her second home. It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to spend most of her afternoons there, lounging on the couch, talking about everything under the sun. But there was one problem that always seemed to linger in the back of Y/N’s mind—the presence of Mikey.

Mikey wasn’t your typical guy. He was charismatic, carefree, and always had that smirk that made you feel like he knew something you didn’t. But Y/N, She was quiet, reserved, never the type to make her feelings obvious. And Mikey? Well, he noticed.

Y/N always tried to be discreet, glancing at Mikey when she thought he wasn’t looking, stealing the occasional peek when Emma and Mikey would argue, or when he was deep in thought. There was something about him—something about that air of mystery—that intrigued her, but she never said it aloud.

And Mikey? He was more than aware. He noticed the way her eyes would dart away whenever his gaze met hers, the way her cheeks would redden just a bit when he caught her staring a little too long. It was almost cute, really. And honestly? He liked the attention.

One day, randomly, Mikey had been rifling through a pile of papers on the kitchen counter when his hand brushed against something—a notebook, your notebook, thick with pages. Curiosity got the better of him, and before he knew it, he was flipping through it, his smirk growing wider.

It was a collection of sketches—drawings of him. Different angles, different expressions—capturing everything from his lazy grin to the sharpness in his eyes. His fingers traced over the edges of the pages. So she was keeping these secret little portraits of him, huh?

He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. He should’ve known.

A few days later, Emma and Y/N were hanging out again, lounging in Emma’s room, talking about the usual: school, friends, life. It was a typical afternoon until Mikey casually appeared in the doorway.

“Hey, Emma,” Mikey said, flashing his signature smirk. “Can you go grab me some dorayaki? Or, you know, a drink from the store around the corner? I’ll owe you one.”

She blinked, confused. “Uh… sure, I guess. Why now?”

Mikey shrugged nonchalantly, stepping closer. “Because, why not? Y/N stay here and help me out with some stuff.” He shot her a wink as she tilted her head in confusion, raising an eyebrow.

“Wait, what do you need me to do?” Y/N asked, but Mikey was already motioning for her to follow him.

Emma, not one to argue with Mikey. “Alright, Fine. I’ll be back soon, Y/N,” she said, brushing past Mikey.

Mikey grabbed Y/N by the wrist, pulling her out of the room before she could protest.

“Wait, Mikey, what’s going on?” Y/N asked, her confusion obvious as Mikey led her down the hall to a quieter part of the house.

Mikey gave her a sideways glance, his smirk widening. “Just trust me, Y/N. You’ll want to see this.”

He led you into one of the empty room, shutting the sliding door behind him with a quiet click. Your pulse quickened, but you tried to keep your cool.

“Mikey, seriously. What’s this about?”

He turned toward you, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. Then he reached behind one of the couch cushions and pulled out your sketchbook.

Your breath caught. “Wait—what the hell, where did you get that?”

“You left it on the counter the other day,” he said, flipping it open lazily. “At first, I thought it was just random drawings, but… imagine my surprise.”

He tilted the book toward you, revealing a sketch of him—leaning on the couch, that lazy look in his eyes perfectly captured in pencil. “They’re good. Like, really good.”

Y/N lunged forward to grab the notebook, but Mikey was faster—his arm shot up, raising it just out of her reach.

“Give it back!”

she slammed into him full force chest-first, knocking him completely off balance. The two of them tumbled to the floor with a loud thud.

Y/N blinked, heart hammering, realizing she was now sprawled on top of him, her face mere inches from his. Mikey’s laugh echoed in the quiet room, low and amused.

“Well damn,” he grinned up at her, his hands moving instinctively to her waist. “You could at least take me out to dinner first before tackling me like that.”

Her eyes widened in horror, and she scrambled off him so fast it made her dizzy, sitting up with her knees pulled close to her chest, cheeks burning.

“You’re such a jerk,” she muttered, trying to regulate her breathing while avoiding his gaze.

“Relax,” he said, grinning.

You crossed your arms, trying to mask your embarrassment. “It wasn’t meant for anyone to see.”

“Oh, I figured,” he said, stepping closer. “But it’s kind of flattering, you know. You’ve been watching me pretty closely to get all these angles right.”

His words made your stomach twist. He was teasing you, sure—but there was something else behind his tone. Something quieter.

“I wasn’t trying to be creepy,” you muttered. “I just… I like drawing people. You were around. That’s all.”

Mikey quirked an eyebrow. “So if I looked in another sketchbook, I’d see Draken, or Emma, or random classmates?”

You looked away. Silence was its own answer.

Mikey’s smirk faded slightly, replaced by something gentler. He held the notebook out to you.

“Y/N,” he said, and his voice lost that usual lazy drawl. “I’m not mad. Honestly, I think it’s kinda cool. I just wanted to know why me.”

Y/N swallowed. “I… don’t know. You’re just… always around. And you’re hard to ignore.”

Mikey arched an eyebrow. “So you like me.”

Y/N opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her face betrayed her, heat rising to her cheeks. She turned away.

Mikey was quiet for a beat. Then he let out a soft laugh, “You’re weird,” he said, but there was no malice in it. “But, like… a good kind of weird. You’re cute. Real quiet, but funny when you get mad. And those drawings? You see me better than anyone.”

For the first time, she saw something different in his expression—something sincere.

Mikey stepped forward, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “So how about this: next time you want to draw me, just ask. I’ll pose for you.”

Y/N blinked up at him, stunned. “You’d actually let me draw you? Like… on purpose?”

Mikey plopped down beside her again, resting his arms over his knees. “Why not? I’m a great subject.”

She snorted. “You’re a terrible subject. You move too much.”

He grinned. “Then I’ll stay still this time. Come on, prove you’re not just creeping on me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but reached for her sketchbook anyway, flipping to a blank page. “Fine. Don’t talk. Don’t smirk. Just—sit still.”

He obeyed, crossing his legs and straightening his back, trying to mimic a stoic model. Y/N settled across from him, pencil in hand, trying to focus. But the longer she looked at him, the harder it became to concentrate. His gaze never left her.

She tilted her head, frowning slightly, then leaned forward. “There’s… a shadow on your jaw I can’t quite get right—hold on.”

Without thinking, her hand reached out, fingertips brushing gently along the line of his jaw. Mikey didn’t flinch. In fact, he tilted his head slightly, letting her touch him, watching her with something unreadable in his eyes.

“Y’know,” he said softly, “you don’t hide it very well.”

Her hand froze. “Hide what?”

“The way you look at me. Like I’m something worth staring at.”

She pulled her hand back quickly, face flushing. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“You do,” he interrupted, leaning in just slightly. “It’s not a bad thing.”

There was a long, weighted pause. The room felt too quiet now.

Mikey shifted forward, now only inches from her. “You ever think about kissing me?”

Her breath caught in her throat. “What?”

He smirked, but it was softer now, teasing without the edge. “I think about it sometimes. Especially when you’re this close.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest. He was looking right at her—eyes half-lidded, voice low, tone teasing but heavy with something else.

For a second, she swore he was going to close the gap.

But then—

He leaned back with a satisfied smirk, hands behind his head. “But hey, maybe next time. You still haven’t taken me to dinner.”

Y/N stared at him, wide-eyed, cheeks burning. “You’re seriously the worst.”

“I get that a lot,” he said, grinning.

She tossed a pillow at him.

He caught it with one hand, still grinning, but then he paused, voice quieter now. “People usually look at me like I’m some reckless idiot. Like I’m gonna fall apart any second.”

She didn’t say anything. Just watched him.

“But you…” he looked over at her, expression unusually sincere. “You look at me like I’m worth understanding.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. She wasn’t expecting that.

He shrugged like it was nothing. “Makes it hard not to like you back.”

The words hung in the air between them, soft and heavy and just real enough to make her heart ache.

Y/N didn’t trust her voice, so she just nodded, biting back a smile.

Mikey grinned. “Now finish that sketch before I get wrinkles from staying this still.”

She rolled her eyes, flipping her pencil upright again, but couldn’t fight the way her hands trembled slightly—because everything had just changed.

Y/N was still trying to steady her hand when the sliding door abruptly creaked open.

“Hey, I’m back!” Emma’s voice rang out, followed by the soft crinkle of a plastic bag. “Mikey, they were out of your stupid dorayaki so I—” She paused mid-step, taking in the scene.

Y/N sitting cross-legged on the floor, sketchbook in hand. Mikey seated across from her, much too close, far too relaxed. Her eyes narrowed slowly as the realization clicked into place.

Y/N stiffened like she’d been caught doing something illegal.

Mikey just smirked. “Took you long enough.”

Emma’s gaze ping-ponged between the two of them, then dropped to the faint pink still lingering on Y/N’s cheeks. “Okay… what did I miss?”

“Nothing.” Y/N blurted, way too fast. She slammed her sketchbook shut and stood up like the floor had burned her.

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Right. And I’m a goldfish.”

Mikey stood too, stretching casually as if nothing had happened. “She’s drawing me. That’s all.”

Emma blinked. “Wait, seriously? You let someone draw you? You barely let people take photos.”

Mikey shrugged, tossing a lazy grin toward Y/N. “She asked nicely.”

Y/N scoffed. “I did not.”

Emma looked between them again—Mikey grinning like a cat who’d found his favorite toy, and Y/N, visibly trying not to implode. Her lips twitched.

Emma grinned. “I’m just saying, if you guys are gonna have weird flirty floor moments, at least tell me so I don’t walk into a live drama scene.”

“We weren’t flirting!” Y/N said, but even she didn’t sound convinced.

Mikey sipped from the drink Emma gave him and looked over at her with a smirk. “You kinda were.”

Y/N shot him a look. “Mikey.”

He just shrugged and leaned against the wall, that same lazy look in his eyes. “What? I like being your muse.”

Emma blinked. “Okay, what the hell happened while I was gone?”

Y/N shook her head, defeated. “I don’t even know anymore.”

Emma, satisfied that something had definitely happened, grabbed her phone. “Good. Carry on. I’m gonna pretend I’m not here.”

Mikey looked at Y/N again, this time his smile a little softer. “You still owe me that sketch, y’know.”

Y/N sighed, sitting down again with her sketchbook. “Fine. But if you move this time, I’m giving you a mustache.”

“Worth it,” he murmured, eyes on her instead of the page.

Title: 7 minutes in heaven

Pairing: Baji x Reader

Summary: It started out as a fun silly little game but now you’re both stuck here.

(Fluff + some kissing) ( No warnings)

————————————————————————

It was dark.

Not pitch-black, but that claustrophobic kind of dim where only a thin sliver of light crept in through the crack of the closet door. Enough to catch glimpses—the slight gleam of Baji’s earring, the edge of your shoe toe-to-toe with his, the rise and fall of his chest just inches from yours.

You weren’t sure how you ended up in here—no, scratch that. You were sure. This had Chifuyu written all over it.

Stupid party. Stupid game. Stupid friends.

You shifted slightly, trying—and failing—to wedge yourself against the wall without brushing up against him. But the closet was laughably small. Your shoulder bumped his. He tensed. So did you.

Silence. Awkward. Suffocating.

You cleared your throat, desperate to break the tension before it swallowed you whole. “So… this is fun.”

Baji let out a dry laugh, low and short. “Yeah. Real fun. Who actually plays this game?”

You smirked, trying to hide your nerves. “Apparently us.”

Another beat of silence. You could hear voices outside the door—laughter, music—but it all felt muffled. Distant. Like the closet had its own world, one way too small for how fast your heart was beating.

“So…” you tried again, eyes fixed on that thin line of light, “what would you be doing if you weren’t in a closet right now?”

Baji scoffed softly. “Eating Mikey’s snacks before Draken fights him for them.”

You laughed—nervous, but real. “Sounds about right.”

Then a pause.

“…What about you?” he asked, voice a bit quieter this time.

You glanced at him in the dimness, the curve of his jaw just visible. “Avoiding this exact situation.”

He huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh or a sigh. “Yeah. Me too.”

Neither of you moved. Shoulder to shoulder, trying not to notice how warm the other felt.

And neither of you noticed that the minutes were stretching far past seven.

The longer you sat in that cramped closet, the easier it got to ignore the awkward silence—and instead lean into teasing.

“Well,” you muttered, nudging his foot lightly with yours, “at least you smell better than I expected.”

He snorted. “Wow. Thanks. That the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me?”

You smirked in the dark. “I can take it back, you know.”

“No, no,” he said, trying—and failing—to sound offended. “I’ll treasure it forever.”

That made you both laugh, the sound echoing slightly in the tiny space. It felt stupidly easy, like the tension had cracked open just a little. Baji leaned back against the wall, shaking his head.

“Swear, Chifuyu’s dead when I get out of here. I knew he was acting weird.”

“Oh please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “The second he said ‘you’ll thank me later,’ we should’ve run.”

“You did walk in here though.”

“So did you.”

“…Touché.”

You both laughed again, your knees bumping this time—and neither of you pulled away.

But then Baji’s laughter slowed. His eyes darted toward the faint light on his watch. “…Wait. That was definitely more than seven minutes.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m serious.” He leaned forward, knocking on the door. “Yo! Time’s up! Let us out already!”

No answer.

Your brows furrowed. You twisted the doorknob—and froze. “It’s locked.”

Baji’s voice dropped an octave. “What?”

“I’m serious.” You jiggled it again. Nothing. “They locked us in—!”

“Oh, hell no.” He turned to the door, now more irritated than amused. “Oi! CHIFUYU! Open the damn door!”

Nothing but muffled laughter from outside.

“Oh you bastards—”

He smacked his palm against the door a little harder than the space could handle, and in his frustration, he shifted too far. His elbow bumped into your side, your balance tilted, and you stumbled—

“Whoa—!”

In a heartbeat, his arms caught you. One around your waist, one braced against the wall behind you.

The air shifted.

Your palms landed against his chest. Close. Way too close.

Baji blinked, his voice suddenly softer. “…You okay?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Y-Yeah. Just… lost my balance.”

His arms stayed where they were. Holding you just enough. Not letting go.

Neither of you moved.

“…They so planned this,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

Baji’s lips twitched. “Yeah. They did.”

But this time, he didn’t sound mad. Just… thoughtful.

You stayed like that—frozen in his arms—for a moment too long. Long enough to realize you weren’t exactly trying to pull away.

And before you could second-guess yourself, your body moved on instinct. Maybe it was the warmth of him, the way his arms had tightened just slightly when you stumbled.

You let your head rest against his chest.

It wasn’t dramatic. Just a quiet little movement. Soft. Familiar, even. Like it had always been there, waiting for a moment like this.

But then you heard it.

His heartbeat.

Fast. Way too fast. Thundering beneath your ear like it was trying to punch its way out of his ribcage.

You blinked against the fabric of his shirt, surprised. “…Are you okay?”

There was a pause. And when he finally answered, his voice was low. Rough around the edges.

“…Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t?”

Your breath caught.

His tone wasn’t sarcastic. It wasn’t cocky or teasing. It was real. Honest.

Something fluttered in your chest—nerves, warmth, something in between. Before you could stop yourself, your arms lifted and wrapped around him. Not in a stumble, not in a joke.

A hug.

A real one.

He stiffened for a second, like he didn’t know what to do with it. And then slowly, wordlessly, his arms wrapped around you too. Tighter this time. Like he wasn’t planning on letting go.

“…You’re really warm,” you murmured, mostly to fill the silence.

“Yeah,” he said against your hair. “That might be your fault.”

You smiled into his chest.

You stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence now soft and full—not awkward like before.

After a few moments, you tilted your head up slightly, your voice quiet but curious.

“Do you know why they did this?”

Baji blinked down at you, caught off guard. “Huh?”

“You know,” you said, your voice a little more teasing now. “Why they shoved us in here. Out of everyone.”

He shrugged, shifting a little. “Dunno. No clue.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him properly. “Liar.”

He blinked.

“You always know what’s up with your friends,” you said softly. “You notice everything. Especially when it comes to them. So why are you pretending not to now?”

That shut him up.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Just looked at you—really looked.

Then finally, quietly, he muttered, “Yeah.”

His arms dropped from your waist, like he needed them free to talk with, to explain. His fingers raked through his hair.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice low. “I know.”

He stared past you for a second like he was sorting through his thoughts—then suddenly, the words came pouring out before he could stop them.

“First day I met you, I remember you rolled your eyes at me so hard I thought they’d get stuck. I thought you hated me,” he said with a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh. “But then you offered me half your damn sandwich like it was no big deal. After that, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You froze, heart thudding as he continued.

“Whenever I see something nice—like, really nice—my first thought’s always, ‘would you like it?’ I catch myself looking for stuff to tell you about. Like I wanna be the first to show you, hear you laugh, get you to roll your eyes at me again.”

His arms went around you, holding you like he was scared you’d vanish if he let go.

“I always want to protect you. Even when you don’t need it. Even when it’s just someone talking bad about you, or you pushing yourself too hard. I just—I dunno. You’re important to me. More than I ever say. Probably more than I should’ve let happen.”

Then, his eyes widened a little, realization crashing in.

“…Shit. Sorry. That was probably—ugh, that was too much. I didn’t mean to—if I’m annoying you or making this weird—”

You didn’t let him finish.

You leaned in and kissed him.

Simple. Soft. Real.

And it shut him up immediately.

You felt him tense for a heartbeat, then melt into it, hands slowly finding their way back to your waist, pulling you closer like he’d been waiting for this moment without even realizing it.

“…You’re not annoying,” you whispered. “You never were Baji.”

He let out a groan—half annoyed, half flustered—as he dragged a hand down his face.

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered. “Can you just—please—call me by my first name?”

You blinked, a little startled. “What?”

“You heard me.” He glanced at you, eyes flickering between yours and your lips. “Say it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “…Keisuke.”

The effect was immediate. His breath caught, jaw tightening slightly like the sound of it hit him harder than he was ready for.

He stared at you like you’d just pulled the ground out from under him. “…Say it again.”

That was all it took.

He leaned in and kissed you again—deeper this time, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left to pretend. It wasn’t nervous or awkward anymore—it was real, urgent, like he’d waited too long to stop himself now.

Between kisses, he murmured against your mouth, “I love hearing you say my name.”

You barely had a second to breathe before he trailed his lips from your mouth down to your jaw, then to your neck—warm, slow kisses turning into something more heated. Your breath hitched as he kissed just below your ear, then lower, his lips grazing your skin until—

“Keisuke…” you whispered, voice unsteady.

He let out a low hum, his hands roaming up your sides, grounding you as his lips marked you—one, two—soft hickeys left behind like secrets only he was allowed to know.

But then he paused.

You felt it in the shift of his breath, the tension in his shoulders.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. His thumb brushed against your cheek, gentle now. “You okay with this?”

You nodded, cheeks warm, heart pounding. “Yeah… I am.”

He smiled—soft, almost shy. “Good. Because I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

But just as his lips were about to find yours again, reality came crashing back with a faint snicker from outside the door.

Right. The closet. The party. Their friends.

Baji sighed like it physically pained him to stop. He gave you one last kiss—slow, lingering—then let go, fists clenching like he needed to do something with all the heat and energy now stuck in his chest.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wait. What are you—”

“Screw this,” he muttered—and then, with a swift kick and a sharp CRACK, the closet door broke open, wood splintering around the lock.

Light poured in. A few gasps and shouts followed.

Baji stepped out first, shaking off his hair, then turned back to offer you his hand like the smug, slightly flushed delinquent he was.

“Seven minutes, huh?” he said with a crooked grin. “Took a little longer.”

The room went dead silent.

Baji strode out like he hadn’t just demolished a door and made out with you in a closet for who-knows-how-long. You followed close behind, cheeks flushed, hair slightly tousled, his hand still gripping yours.

Chifuyu gawked. “You actually broke the—wait. Wait. Did you guys—?”

Smiley whistled low. “Told you it’d work.”

Draken folded his arms, raising a brow. “Took you two long enough.”

Mikey, sitting cross-legged on the couch with snacks in his lap, just grinned. “So… when’s the wedding?”

You rolled your eyes.

But neither of you let go of each other’s hand.

Holyyy, it’s been SO long since I last wrote on here. I genuinely missed writing, and dw I’ll catch up on all the writing I have to do. Anyway this ain’t a life update 🙄 Ik yall js want jump to the story right away ugh Patrica you don’t care abt me at all. 😢

I loveee this prompt cs I actually had a good story idea for this, enjoy! ♥️

—

It was just you and your younger sister, Mio. You were always working hard to support the both of you, but… you weren’t exactly a pro at housework

“So, how do you like it Mimi?” You said proud only to have your hopes crushed by her disgusted face.

She quickly sprinted the kitchen sink as she hurled, “what the heck did you put in this?! It tastes like ass.”

You frowned deciding if you should let it go or throw a pan at her, that attitude is not gonna get her far unharmed..

Sighing, you rolled your eyes cleaning up and throwing away whatever was left of the food, “I guess, we’ll have to order food again since someone excepts me to be chef Gusteau.”

“It’s not my fault someone can’t cook for shit, but I can ask Reiji to get us—”

You cut her off, your soft-spoken, light-hearted tone completely changed. “Mio, I don’t want a single fucking thing from that piece of shit you call a boyfriend.”

Mio looked down, disappointed and upset. She expected that response—you were always blunt and clear about how much you hated her boyfriend. But you never wanted to force her to do anything, because at the end of the day, she “loved” him. Still, you knew better. It wasn’t love—it was attachment, plain and toxic.

“I don’t understand why you can’t stand Reiji. He’s really sweet, I promise. You just have to give him some time to prove that to you.”

You were completely done with her excuses.

“Mimi, do you not see the way he talks to you? That is not how you speak to someone you claim to love. He doesn’t love you—he’s just fucking using you.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Shut the hell up. I’m done. We’re not talking about this bullshit again.”

Her eyes welled up at the harshness in your voice. She was still your little sister. Without any more words, she went to her room, where she spent the rest of the day silently crying. Meanwhile, you cleaned the house, disappointed and sad about how you’d spoken to her—but deep down, she knew you were right. He didn’t love her.

But she couldn’t let him go. She couldn’t imagine life without him.

What terrified her more than losing him… was how you’d react once you found out he’d gone as far as putting his hands on her.

You waited quietly for the food you’d ordered to arrive. Once it did, you fixed a plate for her and walked to her door, knocking gently. No answer. You hesitated, then slowly opened it. The room was empty, but the bathroom light was on.

“Oh, I guess she’s in there,” you thought, curiosity growing as you stepped closer and peeked in.

And nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw.

Your heart dropped.

Putting the plate down, you slowly opened the door, your eyes locking onto your sister’s soft, beautiful face—battered and bruised.

You froze. How the hell didn’t you notice?

You thought she’d just gotten into makeup lately… but no. You had it all wrong. She was using it to hide what Reiji had been doing to her.

She looked horrified. Her hand trembled, the concealer slipping from her grip and hitting the floor.

“Y-Y/N, wait—listen to me. Just hear me out. He didn’t mean to, I swear. He was just… mad.”

Rage didn’t even begin to cover what you felt. You were holding back a fucking storm.

“So he was the one that did that to you.”

“He didn’t mean—”

“Answer the damn question. Yes or no.”

She swallowed hard, eyes falling to the floor, shame written all over her face.

“…Yes.”

Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Take the makeup off and get dressed. We’re going out.”

She didn’t talk back or ask questions—she knew better. Your face, your tone, your whole vibe had gone cold in an instant. She’d never seen you like this.

Mio kept close behind as you left the house, walking the streets with no idea where you were taking her.

“That shithead… he’s in the Tokyo Manji Gang, right?”

“Yeah,” she muttered.

“Well then. Looks like we’re paying them a little visit.”

Her eyes widened. She tried to stop you, saying it was dangerous, begging you to let it go—but it was already too late. You’d made up your mind, and there was no turning back now.

The two of you stood at the foot of Musashi Shrine, dozens of bikes lined up like a warning.

You were just a few stairs away from the bastard who laid his hands on your sister.

“Let’s go.”

The closer you got to their “spot,” the clearer everything became—groups of guys lined up, all in the same uniform. At the top of the stairs stood a short blonde guy. Next to him, a taller blonde with a dragon tattoo on the side of his shaved head.

You scoffed.

“Bunch of trash. All they do is fight and act like they own the damn city.”

Your sister moved closer, almost hiding behind you. She didn’t want this. She wanted to run. But it was too late.

Their leader faltered mid-sentence, his speech cutting off as his eyes locked on you. Two girls—one terrified, the other shooting daggers into his soul—had just crashed their gathering.

“Kenny, what the hell—” he muttered to his friend.

“I don’t know who the fuck that is, man. Why’s she looking at you like that? What’s her problem?” Kenny replied, already annoyed.

Whispers rippled through the crowd as people turned to see you and your sister walking straight through them. You pulled her close, ignoring the rude comments tossed your way.

You made your way directly to the top—toward the leader.

“Hey! Who the hell do you think you are? You think you can just waltz in here? Do you even know where the hell you are?” someone shouted behind you.

You stopped in front of the leader, eyes locked on his. He glanced at you, then at your sister’s bruised face.

“You… you’re their commander, right? Or whatever the fuck it is.”

Caught off guard by your tone, he blinked.

“What the fuck?”

“Are you deaf or something? I asked you a question.”

“Who the fuck are you talking to like that?” the taller one snapped, stepping forward, trying to use his height to intimidate you.

Didn’t work. Just made the tension worse.

“Kenny, wait.” the shorter one held him back, then looked at you.

“Yeah. I am. Who are you?”

“Fuck the introductions.”

“One of your shitty little boys laid his hands on my sister. So I’m here to say—real simple—I’m gonna beat his fucking ass. And you’re not gonna do a damn thing about it.”

He looked stunned. No way. That couldn’t be true.

None of them would stoop that low… would they? Beating on a girl barely half their size? That would destroy Toman’s reputation.

“That’s impossible. Toman has a rep, you know.”

You scoffed.

“Yeah? Well, for a so-called leader, you clearly don’t know what the hell’s going on in your own gang.”

“Who? What’s his name?”

You turned, facing the sea of uniforms behind you.

“So what’s it gonna be? You gonna man up and step forward?”

A pause. Silence.

Then your voice cut through it again—cold and sharp.

“Or do I have to drag your sorry ass up here myself, Reiji?”

Only when you said his name did he finally step forward.

He swallowed hard.

“Mio…” he whispered, eyes begging her to leave.

He never thought you’d actually show up—let alone put him on blast in front of everyone.

He stepped up to Mikey.

“What happened? Explain yourself.”

Mikey’s glare cut through him. Reiji opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Reiji,” Draken said, his voice low but sharp, now locked in on him.

“M-Mikey, that’s my girlfriend. She’s just… dramatic. We got into a little argument. It was her fault.”

He kept rambling, voice shaky, making excuse after excuse. But it didn’t matter.

You already got the confirmation you needed.

You let go of your sister’s hand.

And all hell broke loose.

“So you like putting your hands on girls, huh?”

You stepped toward him, eyes locked, fists clenched.

…

You didn’t stop. Not when the blood hit the pavement. Not when his mouth was too swollen to talk. Not when his legs gave out and he dropped to the ground like the pathetic coward he was.

You kept going.

Your fists were raw, knuckles busted open—but you didn’t care.

Reiji wasn’t moving much anymore, barely conscious. You grabbed him by the collar, yanked his head up, ready to throw another punch—

Then your hand moved. Quick. Too quick.

Out of your jacket pocket came a small black blade. You flicked it open without a second thought and pressed it to his throat.

Dead silence.

Your sister gasped.

“Y-Y/N…” she whispered, her voice trembling. You didn’t even look at her. Your entire body was still, except the hand gripping the knife, pressing just enough to draw a thin line of blood across his neck.

Reiji whimpered.

“You think I’m fucking done with you?” you growled, voice low and shaking. “You think you get to just walk away after putting your hands on her?”

Mio looked around, panicking. Everyone was frozen. Toman wasn’t stepping in—they understood this. Hell, if it were one of them, they’d probably be doing the same.

But not this.

Not the knife.

She turned to Mikey and Draken, eyes wide, voice barely a whisper.

“Please… please stop her. She’s gonna kill him.”

Draken blinked, like he was finally registering just how far things had gone. But it was Mikey who moved.

Fast.

No words. No hesitation. Just one clean, calculated motion—he stepped forward and kicked the knife from your hand before you could push harder.

Metal clattered across the ground. You turned, eyes wild, ready to swing at him.

Mikey grabbed your wrists, trying to hold you back—but he underestimated just how much strength was hiding behind you.

You twisted out of his grip and in one fluid motion, flipped him.

The leader of the Tokyo Manji Gang—pinned under you.

Everyone watching lost their breath. Even Draken’s mouth opened slightly in disbelief.

Mikey stared up at you, stunned.

“Tch… been a long-ass time since anyone pinned me like that,” he muttered, almost impressed.

But he wasn’t the threat anymore.

No one had seen it—not Mikey, not Draken, not you.

But Mio had.

While everyone was watching you, Reiji had crawled across the ground, hand reaching slowly, shakily, for the knife Mikey kicked away.

And now—

He was on his feet. Arm around Mio’s neck. The blade pressing against her throat.

Her breath hitched.

“Don’t fucking move!” Reiji shouted, voice cracked and desperate, blood pouring down his face.

Mio’s terrified eyes locked with yours.

And just like that—

The whole game changed.

“Reiji… don’t you dare,” Draken warned, his voice low, serious now.

You took a cautious step forward.

But Reiji jerked Mio tighter, the blade pressing deeper against her skin.

“Did you not fucking hear me, bitch? I said don’t move unless you want this whore’s throat slit!”

Your jaw clenched. His words—filthy, vile—cut deep. You wanted to lunge at him, tear him apart limb by limb. But you couldn’t. Not when he had her.

Mio looked frozen, lips trembling, eyes begging you not to do anything stupid.

“You hurt her,” you growled, “and I swear to God you’re not leaving here alive.”

But Reiji just laughed, a hollow, shaking sound.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m getting outta here anyway. None of you got the balls to stop me.”

He started backing toward the stairs, dragging Mio with him.

“You think I’m scared of some gang? You think I’m scared of her?” He nodded toward you, smirking through cracked lips and blood-stained teeth. “She ain’t gonna do shit.”

Your fists curled so tight your nails dug into your palms.

“Let her go, Reiji,” Mikey spoke now, calm but dead serious.

“You don’t wanna know what’ll happen if you take one more step.”

Reiji scoffed.

“What, you gonna hit me? You let this crazy bitch beat me half to death and now you’re playing savior? Don’t fuckin’ kid yourself.”

Your eyes never left Mio’s. She was holding back tears, but you could see it—the silent plea.

Do something.

“Reiji,” you said, tone quieter now. Cold. Controlled. “Let her go, and maybe I’ll let you keep breathing.”

He laughed again, harder this time.

“You? You’re just mad I broke your little sister like the stupid, weak bitch she is—”

That was it.

The second those words left his mouth, something inside you broke. Your vision blurred, the world around you muffled like you were underwater—and suddenly, all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

You didn’t lunge.

You didn’t scream.

You smiled.

A slow, cold smile that made Reiji falter.

You took one slow, deliberate step forward.

“Take another step and she’s dead!” he barked, pressing the knife harder against Mio’s throat.

You didn’t stop.

Another step.

Your voice was calm—terrifyingly calm.

“Then do it.”

Reiji froze.

Even Mio stiffened.

“Go ahead. Kill her. But you better make it fast.”

You tilted your head slightly.

“Because I promise you won’t even take a breath after that before I tear your fucking throat out with my teeth.”

Everyone went silent.

“You think I won’t?” you added, eyes locked on his. “Try me, Reiji. Try me and see how fast I become your fucking worst nightmare.”

Reiji’s grip loosened.

Just a fraction.

But it was enough.

Mio moved. Fast.

Her heel slammed down on his foot, hard. He shouted, flinching—his hand with the knife jolted for a split second.

The moment she was free, you snapped.

You didn’t even hear the screaming behind you—Draken shouting, Mikey barking orders—your mind went blank the second your hands wrapped around his neck.

Reiji hit the ground hard.

You didn’t let up.

“YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT MY SISTER? HUH?”

Crack. Your fist collided with his jaw.

“SAY THAT SHIT AGAIN—”

Crack. Another punch. Blood splattered across your knuckles. He was sobbing now, trying to crawl back, but you grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him right back to the pavement.

“YOU FUCKING COWARD.”

A knee to the ribs.

“TOUCH HER AGAIN AND I’LL PUT YOU IN A BODYBAG.”

You reared back for one more punch—

But arms grabbed you.

Tight. Strong.

It was Mikey.

“That’s enough.” His voice wasn’t angry—just firm. “He’s done.”

You were breathing hard, chest heaving, heart pounding like war drums. For a second, you didn’t move. Blood was dripping from your fists. Reiji was barely conscious, mumbling nonsense, broken and whimpering.

You looked over your shoulder.

Mio.

She was standing there, shaking, tears falling down her cheeks—but not out of fear. Out of shock. Out of relief.

Your hands dropped.

You stood up slowly, stepping back.

Mikey glanced down at Reiji, then at you.

“…Don’t worry. He’s not walking out of here.”

Draken cracked his knuckles.

“We’ll handle the rest.”

You didn’t say anything.

You just turned around and pulled your sister into your arms.

“It’s over,” you whispered, holding her tight. “He’s never touching you again.”

…

The meeting had ended hours ago, but the tension lingered like smoke.

Only a few remained—Mikey and Draken, which were the only names you knew, some other people, and you.

Reiji had been dealt with. You didn’t ask what happened to him. You didn’t care.

You sat on the shrine steps, arm wrapped protectively around Mio, who was finally starting to breathe again. Her head rested on your shoulder as you absently rubbed her arm, eyes fixed on the empty streets below.

That’s when someone approached.

“Here.”

A cold soda can touched your hand.

You blinked, looking up.

Silver hair, calm eyes, quiet presence—you hadn’t noticed him earlier.

“Mitsuya,” he said, offering Mio one too. “How are you holding up?”

You narrowed your eyes, instantly guarded.

“Y/N. We’re fine.”

He sat beside you, unfazed by the coldness in your voice.

“Don’t worry about him anymore,” he said softly, nodding toward the shadows where Reiji had last stood. “Or anyone else at that. Toman will protect you both.”

You didn’t even hesitate.

“I don’t need your protection,” you muttered. “I don’t need anyone. Just wanna be left alone.”

Before he could reply, a new voice cut in.

“So, Y/N’s your name, huh?”

You looked over to see Mikey suddenly squatting down beside you, a stupid grin on his face and a whole shift in energy—playful, boyish, like the last two hours hadn’t been soaked in blood.

You stared.

“…Yeah. What about it?”

He tilted his head.

“Mm, I’mma call you…” he paused, eyes scanning you dramatically. “…N/N(nickname). You’re like a pissed-off little angry bird N/N.”

You frowned.

“We’re not friends. I don’t know you.”

He groaned, throwing his head back.

“Well, duhh, that’s the whole point. I’m trying to get to know you, dumbass.”

Mitsuya smirked behind his soda.

“Who taught you to fight like that?” Mikey asked, eyes genuinely curious now. “You flipped me like I weighed nothing—and I don’t lose fights.”

You shrugged, reluctant… but figured answering wouldn’t hurt.

“I used to train at a dojo. I was a kid… I think it was called the Sano Dojo or something.”

Both boys froze.

“…Wait. What?” Mitsuya asked.

Mikey blinked.

“You trained at my grandpa’s dojo?”

He pointed to himself, looking weirdly proud.

“Guess so. Never saw you though,” you muttered, popping the tab on your soda.

Mikey leaned closer, squinting like he was trying to remember your childhood face.

“What school you go to?” Mitsuya asked, still processing.

You looked off, voice quieter this time.

“I don’t. I’m online schooled.”

“Ohhh,” he nodded. “Makes sense. No way we wouldn’t notice a pretty girl like you around here.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t say anything.

Mio shifted beside you, whispering something you couldn’t hear, her voice soft.

Mikey caught it.

“She said you scare her a little,” he teased, eyes dancing with mischief.

You smirked just slightly.

“Good.”

Mikey leaned back on his palms, gaze drifting to the night sky.

“You’re interesting, N/N.”

You didn’t respond.

You weren’t sure if that was a compliment or a warning.

Mitsuya leaned over, lowering his voice.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but… I think Toman might need someone like you.”

You glanced at him, skeptical.

“And why the hell would I ever want to be part of a gang?”

He smiled faintly.

“You’re already the type who protects the people you love. That’s what we’re about… in our own fucked-up way.”

You stayed quiet, unsure what to say.

Mikey stood suddenly, brushing off his pants.

“Well, I’m gonna go beat Draken at rock-paper-scissors for the last melon soda. You coming, N/N?”

You blinked.

“…You’re annoying.”

“Yup. And you’re stuck with us now.”

As he walked off, you glanced at Mitsuya, who only shrugged with a smile.

“You’ll get used to it. Eventually.”

You leaned back, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

The night had gone quiet again.

But something told you this was just the beginning.

—

Y/N was walking to school, lost in thought as she turned a corner near her house. She wasn't paying attention to her surroundings when she unexpectedly ran into someone. A startled gasp escaped her lips as she looked up to find a tall, dark-haired guy with glasses glaring down at her. 

“Watch where you’re going, four eyes,” Y/N snapped instinctively, her irritation flaring up.

The guy’s expression hardened, but before he could respond, Y/N hurried off, not giving him a second glance. Unbeknownst to her, she had dropped her phone during the collision.

Baji stared after her, annoyed by her rudeness. He peered down and saw the phone on the ground. His immediate reaction was to smash it out of anger, but when he picked it up, the screen lit up, exposing a background of Y/N and another girl, Emma. Despite his irritation, he found himself staring at the photo, noticing how pretty Y/N was. The longer he looked, the more intrigued he grew.

Meanwhile, Y/N continued on to school, oblivious to her missing phone until much later. It wasn’t until lunch, when she and Emma were gossiping on the rooftop, that she realized something was wrong.

“Ugh, I must’ve dropped it when I ran into four eyes. How annoying,” Y/N groaned, her frustration evident.

As they chatted, Emma’s phone suddenly rang. She answered it, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Baji?”

“Tell your stupid friend I found her phone,” Baji’s voice came through the line, gruff as ever.

“Baji?” Emma repeated, surprised.

“STUPID?! FOUR EYES, IS THAT YOU? WOW, so not only do you bump into me, but you also steal my phone!” Y/N’s voice was loud enough to draw curious glances from nearby students.

“I DIDN’T STEAL SHIT. DON’T BLAME YOUR CLUMSY ASS ON ME. Tch, you’re lucky I didn’t smash it, you rude ass,” Baji retorted, his tone sharp.

“I dare you, four eyes, and I’ll smash your face,” Y/N shot back, her temper flaring.

Emma sighed, feeling like she was witnessing a lovers’ argument. “Are you guys done?”

“Yeah,” both Baji and Y/N answered simultaneously, causing Emma to shake her head.

“Baji, can we get Y/N’s phone back? After school sounds good?” Emma suggested, her voice calm and practical.

“Yeah, whatever. You know where I’m at,” Baji replied before hanging up.

The rest of the school day dragged on painfully slow for Y/N and the hours seemed to stretch endlessly. Finally, the final bell rang, and she met up with Emma at the school gate.

“Where are we going anyway?” Y/N asked as they walked out.

“Musashi Shrine. That’s where they all meet,” Emma answered casually.

As they neared the shrine, they spotted several motorcycles parked nearby.

“Oh, they’re here already,” Emma noted.

“Man, I’m just tryna get my damn phone back,” Y/N groaned, rolling her eyes.

They walked up to the group, where several guys were huddled up, deep in conversation with Mikey and Draken. The conversation halted when Mikey noticed the newcomers.

“What the? Draken, did you call Emma up for something? Why is she here?” Mikey asked, confused in his tone.

“Uhh, no. Why would I do that?” Draken replied, equally puzzled.

Before Emma could answer, Y/N spotted Baji among the group. He looked different, his hair down and no glasses, blending in with the rest of the gang in a matching uniform.

“Hey, give me my phone back, four eyes!” Y/N called out, cutting Emma off as she made a beeline toward Baji.

Baji turned to face her, and for a moment, he was struck by how pretty she looked up close. He pulled her phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. As she grabbed it, Baji suddenly grabbed her wrist.

“Thanks—huh?” Y/N’s smile faded into confusion as she looked up at him.

“…Are you… single?” Baji asked bluntly, seizing the moment. His straightforwardness stunned everyone, including Y/N.

Y/N quickly pulled her hand back, a blush creeping over her cheeks. “I got what I needed already and why do you care…but yeah, I am,” she replied before quickly retreating to Emma’s side.

The meeting began, but Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes boring into her. She glanced up and found Baji staring at her, his gaze intense and unwavering. Throughout the entire meeting, he never looked away, studying her as if trying to memorize every detail.

His thoughts drifted back to earlier, to the moment he had her phone in his hand. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. He had gone through her phone, scrolling through her pictures. The memory of it made his pulse quicken. As he remembered back to the school bathroom, where he had bit his lip to stay quiet, so his groans and grunts wouldn’t be heard. Y/N’s phone was in one hand, and his dick in the other, as he stroked himself to her face on the screen. He knew it was wrong, going through her phone, scrolling through her photos—especially the ones of her smiling or looking off into the distance. But the more he looked, the more he was certain of one thing: he was going to have her. He was going to make her his.

Later that night, Y/N tossed and turned in bed, replaying the day’s events in her mind. After the meeting, Mikey had offered to walk her and Emma home since it was late. She had parted ways with them as she reached her house, but her thoughts kept circling back to Baji.

She picked up her phone, thinking about texting Emma to ask more about him, but hesitated. Emma would tease her mercilessly if she found out. She sighed and opened her contacts, intending to text Emma, but something caught her eye.

Baji Keisuke.

Her heart skipped a beat. No way. Did he actually put his contact in my phone? She swallowed hard, debating what to do. After a moment, she decided she didn’t need Emma’s help after all.

…Ringggg

“Heh, I knew you were going to call me,” Baji’s voice came through the line, a smirk evident in his tone.

“Shut up, four eyes. What do you want? You added your contact in my phone,” Y/N snapped, trying to keep her cool despite the flurry of emotions swirling inside her.

“Well, it’s pretty simple, actually. I want you.”

Baji reacting to his s/o, who can fight

Power couple. period.

Everyone was shocked when Baji, of all people, managed to find a girlfriend—especially someone as gentle and sweet as you. It was hard to imagine someone like you by his side, considering Baji's reputation for being rough around the edges, loud, and sharp-tongued. Yet, against all odds, the two of you clicked in a way that no one saw coming.

You were always seen laughing together, eating together, and hanging out. But despite the smiles and carefree moments, something lingered in Baji's mind: What if being with him put you in danger? He was a well-known delinquent. You always seemed relaxed, and unworried when you were with him, and he chalked it up to your trust in his ability to protect you no matter what. But that wasn't the case.

The sun was beginning to set as you and Baji made your way to the Musashi Shrine. The ancient trees loomed overhead, their branches swaying gently in the evening breeze. The shrine’s stone path was familiar under your feet, where the Tokyo Manji Gang often gathered in secret. Baji walked beside you, his usual confident stride a little more subdued today. He hadn’t said much on the way here, and you knew why.

As you approached the clearing where the rest of the gang was waiting, Baji finally spoke, his voice low but firm. “You should head home, Y/N. I’ve got business with the guys, and you know how it is. I don’t want you getting mixed up in any of this.”

You looked up at him, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Baji, I’m not a little kid. I can handle myself.”

Baji sighed, running a hand through his messy black hair. “It’s not about you handling yourself, babe. I just don’t want you involved in this stuff. It’s dangerous.”

“And what about you?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “You’re in the middle of it, every day.”

“That’s different,” Baji replied, his tone softening as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “This is my world, not yours. Please, Y/N, just this once, go home.”

You stared at him for a long moment, weighing your options. Baji had always been overprotective, and while you appreciated his concern, it also made you more determined to know what was going on. You finally nodded, giving him a small smile. “Alright, I’ll go.”

Baji’s eyes searched yours for any hint of deception, but you kept your expression neutral. “Good,” he said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “I’ll come by later, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied, turning to leave. But as soon as you were out of sight, you doubled back, slipping into the thick foliage near the shrine. You crouched low, your heart pounding as you carefully moved through the trees and bushes, positioning yourself close enough to hear the meeting.

The voices of the Tokyo Manji Gang filled the air as Baji and the others began to discuss what had brought them here tonight. You recognized Mikey’s voice, cool and commanding as always, followed by Draken’s deep, steady tone.

“There’s been some trouble brewing with one of our rivals,” Mikey said, his voice serious. “They’re planning to make a move soon. We need to be ready.”

“How many are we talking about?” Baji asked, his voice hardening.

“Enough to cause problems,” Draken replied. “They’re not gonna back down easily. We’re looking at a full-on gang war if we don’t handle this right.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you listened, the weight of their words sinking in. A gang war. This was serious—more serious than anything you’d ever heard Baji talk about before.

As the meeting continued, you couldn’t tear yourself away, even though every instinct told you to run. You needed to know what was going to happen, what Baji was going to do. But as the meeting drew to a close, you knew you had to leave before anyone spotted you. You carefully backed away, slipping out of the trees and hurrying down the path back to your home.

The walk felt like a blur, your mind racing with everything you’d heard. When you finally reached your door, you barely registered the familiar surroundings of your room. All you could think about was the impending fight, and what it meant for Baji. What if something happened to him? What if he got hurt—or worse?

The next few days you were passed in a haze. You were quieter around Baji, more withdrawn, your usual lighthearted demeanor replaced by a growing sense of dread. Baji noticed, of course. “You’ve been acting weird lately,” he said one afternoon as you sat together on a park bench. “Something bothering you?”

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “No, just tired, I guess.”

But Baji wasn’t convinced. “You’re not telling me something,” he pressed, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “If something’s wrong, you need to tell me, Y/N.”

You wanted to tell him everything, to share the burden that had been weighing on you since that night at the shrine. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Not when you knew it would only make things worse. So you shook your head again, leaning into his side as you whispered, “I’m fine, Baji. Really.”

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close, but you could feel the tension in his body. He didn’t believe you, and you couldn’t blame him. The unease between you only grew as the days passed, and the date of the impending gang war loomed ever closer.

The day of the fight arrived, and you hadn’t heard a word from Baji. Not a call, not a text—nothing. You spent the entire day gripping your phone, checking it constantly, hoping for some sign that he was okay. The silence gnawed at you, each passing hour adding to the pit of dread growing in your stomach.

By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, you couldn’t take it anymore. The fear and worry were too much to bear. Baji might have wanted to keep you out of this, but you couldn’t just sit back and wait for something to happen. Without a second thought, you pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, the thick fabric swallowing your frame as you tugged the hood low over your face.

Determined, you slipped out of your house and made a beeline for the location where the fight was supposed to take place. The streets were eerily quiet as you made your way to the outskirts of town, where an old, abandoned junkyard served as the battleground for countless brawls between rival gangs. Tonight, it would witness yet another bloody conflict.

You arrived just in time to see the fight unfold. The Tokyo Manji Gang was holding their own, but it was clear they were outnumbered. Your heart pounded in your chest as you hid among a pile of rusted cars, watching the scene play out below you. Baji was in the thick of it, his fists flying as he took down opponent after opponent, but even he was starting to tire.

Toman was winning to a certain degree until, suddenly, the tide turned. The rival gang pulled a dirty move, signaling for reinforcements. Another group of delinquents swarmed the area, overwhelming the already battered Toman members. Your breath hitched as you saw them closing in on Baji, who was now surrounded by more than fifty opponents, all threatening to jump him at once.

Your body moved on instinct before your mind could catch up. Without thinking, you sprinted down the pile of junk cars, your feet barely touching the ground as you made your way toward Baji. Just as one of the enemies tried to sneak up on him from behind, you launched yourself into the air, your foot connecting squarely with the side of his face. The force of the blow sent him crashing to the ground, unconscious.

The crowd gasped in shock, eyes widening at the sight of this mysterious figure who had appeared out of nowhere to protect Baji’s back. You stood tall, fists clenched and ready to fight, but the hood of your hoodie obscured your face, leaving them guessing who you might be.

Baji, still in the middle of knocking down several opponents at once, caught sight of you out of the corner of his eye. He was about to shout at you to get out of there when your hood slipped off, revealing your face. For a split second, time seemed to stand still.

“Y/N?!” Baji’s voice cracked with disbelief. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Not the time, Baji!” you yelled back, your voice firm as you took down another opponent who dared to get too close. “I’m here to protect your back, so focus on the fight!”

Baji was stunned, his mind reeling as he tried to process what was happening. You—his sweet, gentle girlfriend—were here, in the middle of a gang war, fighting off delinquents like you’d been doing it your whole life. He had so many questions, but there was no time to ask them. Right now, you were right—he needed to focus on the fight.

Side by side, the two of you fought off wave after wave of enemies. Baji’s strength and speed were unmatched, but you kept up with him, your movements precise and powerful. You weren’t just holding your own—you were dominating, knocking down anyone who came near him.

Eventually, the tide began to turn in Toman’s favor once more. The rival gang members started to retreat, unable to withstand the combined force of Baji and the mysterious fighter at his side. When the last of them had fled, leaving the junkyard littered with bodies and debris, you finally allowed yourself to relax, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

Baji turned to you, his face a mix of shock, confusion, and—if you looked closely enough—pride. “Y/N… what the hell was that?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief. “How did you—where did you learn to fight like that?”

You gave him a tired smile, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “It’s a long story. But first, let me take care of those cuts.”

You pulled out a small first-aid kit from your pocket—something you’d brought just in case—and began wrapping Baji’s knuckles, which were bruised and bloodied from the fight. As you worked, you explained everything. How you had followed him to the shrine, overheard the meeting, and decided that you couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. You apologized for going against his wishes, but deep down, you knew you had made the right choice.

Baji listened in silence, his eyes never leaving your face. When you finished, he let out a long sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. “Y/N, you’re unbelievable,” he said, his tone a mix of exasperation and admiration. “I wanted to keep you safe, and here you are, kicking ass like it’s nothing.”

You chuckled softly, finishing up the bandages and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I didn’t want you to fight alone. You’re always protecting me, Baji. This time, I wanted to protect you.”

Baji shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re something else, Y/N. But… I guess I can’t be too mad. You saved my ass back there.”

“Glad I could help,” you replied, your smile matching his.

I'm not even gonna lie, after i saw this panel, I COULD NOT STOP THINKING ABOUT BAJI, BRO LOOKKKK

HE PICKED THAT THANG UPPP, w one hand is crazyyy.

..

"Remind me why we're here again, Kei?" you asked, stifling a yawn in mid-sentence.

Baji rolled his eyes for what seemed like the billionth time. "I already told you, Y/N, Mom wanted me to run out and get some groceries."

"Ah, I remember now. But, last time I checked, that sounded like a YOU problem," you retorted, causing him to frown.

"You know, you should really stop being an ass," he commented, picking up some fresh vegetables and placing them in the shopping basket.

"Huh, you literally dragged me out of bed in the middle of the day to come with you! I was sleeping! You're the ass," you whispered, trying to keep your voice down as a few shoppers glanced your way.

"Tch, whatever. I didn't want to come here on my own. It's more fun with you," he pouted, his tone softening.

Feeling a pang of guilt almost instantly, you wrapped your hands around his arm. "Aww, look at you being adorable," you teased, your voice laced with affection.

His face flushed a light pink, and he mumbled, "You're so corny." Despite his words, he pulled you closer to him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

As you both continued through the aisles, you noticed how he carefully selected each item, making sure to get exactly what his mom needed. There was something endearing about his dedication, even if it was just for a simple grocery run.

Eventually, you made your way to the checkout counter. The cashier scanned the items while you and Baji exchanged playful glances and whispered jokes. When everything was bagged up and paid for, the two of you headed towards the exit, arms full of grocery bags.

Stepping outside, you both breathed in the fresh air. "Finally," you sighed, feeling the warmth of the sun on your face.

As you walked, you suddenly noticed that Baji was still carrying the shopping basket. "Uh, Kei, we still have the basket."

He looked down and groaned. "Fuck me. I'll take it back. You wait here."

You nodded, watching as he turned back towards the store. Leaning against a building, you pulled out your phone to pass the time. Moments later, a group of kids your age approached, their eyes lighting up with recognition.

"Hey, isn't that Baji's girlfriend?" one of them sneered, his voice dripping with mockery.

Before you could respond, they started crowding around you, their taunts growing bolder. "What's it like dating a thug?" one asked, while another added, "Bet he drags you into all kinds of trouble."

"Fuck off," you snapped, trying to keep your voice steady. "You don't know anything about us."

"Oh, feisty," one of them laughed, stepping closer. "Let's see how you are without your boyfriend around."

Just as you were about to defend yourself, Baji was back, his eyes blazing with fury. In an instant, he was on them, fists flying with brutal precision. They didn't stand a chance. They were on the ground, groaning in pain, before they even knew what hit them.

Breathing heavily, Baji finally stepped back, his knuckles bloodied. He turned to you, his expression a mix of rage and regret. "Let's go," he said, his voice tight.

The walk back to his house was silent. You could feel the tension radiating off him, his usually confident stride stiff with anger. When you arrived, he handed the groceries to his mom without a word and headed straight to his room. You followed, closing the door behind you.

Inside, Baji sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have let that happen."

"It's not your fault," you said softly, sitting next to him. "They were out of line."

He shook his head, his jaw clenched. "I dragged you out there. I should've protected you."

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I'm not hurt, Kei. I'm right here."

Baji pulled you closer, almost onto his lap, his eyes dark with a mix of emotions. Without another word, he captured your lips in a fierce, demanding kiss. His anger from earlier seemed to fuel the intensity, his lips pressing hard against yours as his hands threaded into your hair, pulling you even closer. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his fingers tugged at your hair, sending shivers down your spine.

You moaned into the kiss, your hands clutching at his shirt as you tried to keep up with his fervor. His hands roamed your body, one sliding down to your waist while the other moved to grope your chest, making you gasp. The sound seemed to encourage him, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with possessive fervor.

Finally, he broke the kiss, both of you panting for breath. His dark eyes locked onto yours, his voice low and husky as he spoke. "I'm going to mark you, Y/N. So everyone knows you belong to me."

Before you could respond, he leaned in and sank his teeth into your neck, the sharp sensation making you yelp. He soothed the sting with his tongue, trailing kisses along your neck and shoulder, leaving a trail of love marks in his wake. You bit your lip, trying to stifle your moans, knowing his mom was just downstairs.

"Kei," you whispered, your voice trembling with both pleasure and concern. "Your mom..."

"Shh," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. "Just try to be quiet."

His lips moved from your neck to your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice rough with desire, "I can't get enough of you."

You shifted slightly on his lap, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the movement only made you more aware of how hard he was. A soft moan escaped your lips before you could stop it, causing Baji to pause and look up at you, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"What's wrong?" he teased, his hands sliding under your shirt to caress your bare skin. "Does it feel good?"

You nodded, closing your eyes, surrendering to the sensations. Baji's hands slid lower, tracing the waistband of your jeans before slipping inside, his fingers brushing against your wet folds, before finally pushing them inside your tight cunt. You gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily, and he took that as encouragement, his fingers moving with deliberate, torturous slowness.

"Kei," you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please…"

He groaned softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "I love hearing you beg," he murmured, his fingers picking up speed, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure. "You're so beautiful when you're desperate for me."

"Mikey, no, the meeting is gonna start soon, and everyone is gonna come. And if someone sees us like this—" you whispered, trying to push his head away from under your skirt.

"Just a little taste, Y/n. No one is gonna find us here, at least if you keep quiet. C'mon," he insisted, lifting your skirt to nuzzle his head under.

You shivered as his fingers slowly ran through your folds. "You're so fucking wet. Did you really get this wet just from making out, you fucking slut."

You turned your head to the side, avoiding his gaze. "F-fuck you. You're one to talk. Your dick is probably leaking by now."

"Yeah, I'm hard as fuck, and that's for you and only you, babe."

Your legs trembled as you felt the vibrations of his voice on your sensitive clit. "Yeah, you like that? Rubbing your clit with my tongue. Your pussy is throbbing."

His tongue swirled in circles on your clit, occasionally fucking your hole.

Biting your bottom lip to keep from making noise, you tugged on his hair. "Mikey, fuck, don't stop, don't you fucking dare stop," you moaned, your head falling back.

"Yeah, cum on my tongue, just like that. Good girl."

You covered your mouth with both hands, stifling your screams as you came again, your cum being lapped up by Mikey. Finally, he pulled away, his mouth wet, cum dripping down his chin. His lustful eyes locked onto your tear-filled ones. Gasping for air, your chest heaved as you slowly slid down, your legs giving way as you sank to the ground, eyes fluttering shut.

You gasped when you heard a shout from afar, "MIKEY! WHERE ARE YOU, DAMMIT? DID YOU FORGET WE GOT A MEETING?"

Mikey pulled you into his lap, and you felt his rock-hard cock against your exposed, bare pussy. He moved his hips upward, grinding into you. "Y/n, shh, keep your mouth shut," he commanded, his voice rough and desperate, mirroring his fast and hard strokes. "I'm gonna fuck this pussy, and you better stay quiet." He placed his palm over your mouth, muffling your sounds as he took his cock out. You gripped the grass beneath you as he spread your pussy with his throbbing cock.

"Yeah, you like being my bitch," he whispered in your ear, thrusting up into you, holding your hips in place. "Don't run away now; you deserve this dick ramming inside you."

His tone was sadistic as he shoved his fingers in your mouth. "Suck on my fingers. That'll keep your mouth busy."

"Wanna feel that pussy pulse and clench on my dick. You hear me? You better cum on this cock, or you won't be cumming for the next week."

You were too fucked out of your mind to respond, just a moaning, wet, and sticky mess. All you could do was nod and take whatever he gave you.

"Yeah, cum for me, baby. Cum on this dick. It's all yours. Mm, fuck yeah, just like that. Tight fucking pussy."

...

--YALL I CAN'T CONTINUE THIS, BITCH I WAS FUCKING SWEATING WHILE WRITING THIS 😭😭😭

--TWO SMUTS IN ONE DAY??? crazy ik, we on a grind ho--

--bitchhh I can't write smut It makes me so embarrassed istg I PHYSICALLY CANT DO IT HELP MEEE----

The evening air was cool at Musashi Shrine, the tranquility punctuated by the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of city life. Kazutora sat on the shrine steps, his shoulders slumped, eyes reflecting the turmoil inside him. Y/n watched him quietly, her heart heavy with concern. The gang meeting had ended hours ago, but Kazutora lingered, reluctant to face the chaos of his home life.

Kazutora sighed deeply, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "I just don't want to go home, Y/n. I can't deal with my family right now."

Y/n's eyes softened with empathy as she moved closer, her hand gently touching his arm. "I get it, Kazutora. I know." She paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face as an idea formed. "Why don't you stay with me tonight? My parents are out of the city for the next three days, and I'm all alone."

Kazutora's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and gratitude washing over him. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose."

"Of course, I'm sure!" Y/n grinned, playfully nudging him with her shoulder. "Come on, it'll be fun. We can have a mini sleepover."

Kazutora chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. "Alright, if you insist."

The walk to Y/n's house was filled with light banter, the weight of Kazutora's troubles momentarily lifting. As they stepped inside, Y/n's excitement was palpable. She dashed to the kitchen, grabbing an assortment of snacks before leading Kazutora to her room.

"Make yourself comfortable," she said, spreading the snacks out on her bed and turning on the TV. "I've got all the good shows lined up."

Kazutora couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "You're really going all out, huh?"

"Absolutely," Y/n replied, plopping down beside him and popping open a bag of chips. "Oh, and I got you some PJs from my dad's closet. They should fit you."

Kazutora took the offered pajamas with a grateful nod. "Thanks, Y/n. You're the best."

Y/n beamed. "I know," she teased, sticking her tongue out playfully. "Now, let's get comfy and enjoy the night."

After changing into the pajamas, Kazutora joined Y/n on the bed, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time. They watched TV, laughing at the absurdity of the show they had picked. Y/n's lighthearted commentary had Kazutora in stitches, his laughter filling the room.

"I can't believe you find this so funny," Kazutora said between chuckles. "You're ridiculous."

"It's called having a good sense of humor," Y/n retorted

As the night went on, Y/n pulled out her skincare routine, explaining each step with an endearing seriousness. Kazutora listened intently, his heart swelling at her genuine care and attention.

"First, we cleanse," she said, holding up a bottle of face wash. "You gotta get rid of all the dirt and grime from the day."

Kazutora followed her lead, mimicking her movements. "You really know your stuff, huh?"

"Of course! Skincare is important," Y/n replied with a wink. "Next, we tone. This helps to balance your skin's pH."

Kazutora nodded, fascinated by her dedication. "You're really something else, Y/n."

She grinned, a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. "I just want you to feel good, Kazutora."

By the time they finished, Kazutora felt a strange mix of calm and elation. Turning off the TV, Y/n flopped back onto the bed, a content sigh escaping her lips. Kazutora joined her, and they started gossiping about random things, their laughter filling the room once more.

As they chatted, they involuntarily edged closer, the space between them shrinking. At one point, Kazutora's gaze lingered on Y/n's lips, a thought forming in his mind.

"Y/n," he began hesitantly, his voice soft. "Can I ask you something?"

Y/n turned to him, curiosity shining in her eyes. "What's up?"

Kazutora took a deep breath, his heart pounding. "Can I kiss you?"

A surprised look crossed Y/n's face, followed by a shy smile. "Yeah, you can."

He leaned in slowly, their lips meeting in a gentle, tentative kiss. The simplicity of it made Y/n's heart flutter. What started as a sweet kiss quickly deepened, the intensity growing between them. Kazutora's hand cupped Y/n's cheek, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

As their kisses grew more fervent, they found themselves entangled, bodies pressing closer together. Kazutora's breath hitched as Y/n's hand roamed over his chest, her touch igniting a fire within him.

"Y/n," he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with desire. "You're driving me crazy."

Y/n responded by pressing her body against his, her hands sliding down to his waistband. She began to rub him through his clothes, feeling him grow harder under her touch. Kazutora groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"Fuck, Y/n," he gasped, his voice raw with need. "You feel so good."

Emboldened by his reaction, Y/n slipped her hand into his pants, wrapping her fingers around his throbbing length. She started to stroke him, her movements slow and deliberate, feeling him twitch in her grasp. Kazutora's breaths came in ragged gasps, his eyes fluttering shut. Without a word, Y/n lowered her head, taking him into her mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, and Kazutora's hands tangled in her hair as she worked him with her lips and tongue. The heat of her mouth and the expert movements of her tongue drove him wild. His climax hit him hard, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips as he released into her mouth.

As he came down from his high, Kazutora pulled Y/n up into his arms, kissing her deeply, tasting himself on her lips. "You have no idea what you do to me," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and lingering desire.

--bro I literally be opening requests and forgetting about them IM SORRY. Anyway go read part 1 or you'll find me in the corner of your room at 2am. This a smut + plot kinda btw--

^ part 1

Y/n lay in bed, her head pounding and her throat raw from days of relentless coughing. The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm yet unwelcome light over her disheveled room. A half-empty mug of tea sat on the bedside table, steam long since vanished. She sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and fatigue.

Just a few weeks ago, the roles had been reversed. Mikey had been the one confined to bed, battling a nasty cold. Y/n had nursed him through it, despite his constant demands for kisses and cuddles. She had tried to keep a safe distance, knowing the risks, but Mikey’s puppy-dog eyes and relentless affection had worn down her defenses. And now, here she was, suffering the consequences.

A knock on her door was followed by it swinging open. Mikey stood there, his face a picture of concern mixed with an air of contrived innocence.

“Y/n,” he whined, dragging out her name as he approached the bed. “You’re ignoring me. Are you mad at me?”

She didn’t even have the energy to roll her eyes. “Manjiro, I’m sick. I just need to rest.”

He pouted, his bottom lip jutting out in that way that always made her heart melt, even now. “You’ve been resting all day. Can’t I just stay with you?”

“Manjiro, no. I don’t want you getting sick again.”

He didn’t seem to hear her, or perhaps he chose not to. Instead, he slipped off his shoes and crawled into bed beside her. Y/n tried to protest, but her voice came out as little more than a hoarse whisper.

“Manjiro, seriously—”

But he had already wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. His warmth was both comforting and infuriating. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back, and despite herself, she relaxed into his embrace.

“You’re burning up,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her neck. “You should have told me you were feeling this bad.”

Y/n sighed, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Just don’t blame me if you get sick again.”

Mikey chuckled, the sound a soothing balm to her frazzled nerves. “Worth it,” he whispered, holding her a little tighter. “Totally worth it.”

As she tried to muster the energy to protest again, Mikey's voice broke through her thoughts, mischievous and playful.

"You know," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, "I have a way to distract you from your cold. Make you feel good."

Before she could argue, he leaned over her, his eyes glinting with mischief. His lips found the sensitive spot just below her ear, pressing soft, lingering kisses there. Y/n shivered, a mix of fever and the electric sensation of his touch.

"'Manjiro," she breathed, her voice a weak protest.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with hers, a smirk playing on his lips. "Trust me, Y/n. You'll feel better, I promise."

Mikey's hands were gentle yet insistent, roaming over her sides, his fingers tracing patterns that sent shivers through her.

"You're not playing fair," she managed to murmur, her resolve weakening with each kiss, each touch.

"All's fair in love and war," he replied, his voice a low murmur against her skin. "And this is definitely love.", his kisses growing more heated, his hands more daring.

She felt a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with her fever. Her breathing shallow as Mikey trailed kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of sheets and the occasional hitch in her breath.

"Relax," he murmured, his lips brushing against her skin. "Let me take care of you."

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. As much as her mind protested, her body was already responding to his touch, her defenses crumbling under his tender ministrations.

Mikey's hands slid down her sides, his fingers grazing her skin in a way that made her breath catch. He paused at the waistband of her pants, his eyes flicking up to meet hers, silently asking for permission. Y/n gave a small nod, unable to find her voice.

With deliberate slowness, Mikey peeled her pants down, his touch sending a jolt of anticipation through her. He placed a kiss on her hip, then another just below her navel, his eyes never leaving hers. Y/n's breathing grew more erratic, her body trembling with a mixture of nerves and desire.

"Mikey," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He smiled, a soft, reassuring smile that made her heart flutter. "Just trust me," he said, his voice a soothing balm to her anxious thoughts.

He shifted lower, spreading her legs gently. Y/n's heart raced as he settled between her thighs, his breath warm against her skin. He kissed the inside of her thigh, slow and deliberate, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She couldn't help but gasp, her fingers clenching the sheets beneath her.

When he finally reached her core, he paused, looking up at her one last time. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine. And then, with a tenderness that took her breath away, he lowered his mouth to her.

The first touch of his tongue against her was almost too much. Y/n's back arched off the bed, a moan escaping her lips. Mikey's hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as he began to explore her with a slow, deliberate rhythm. His tongue moved in languid strokes, each one sending waves of pleasure through her body.

Y/n's hands found their way to his hair, her fingers tangling in the soft strands. She tried to stay quiet, but the sensations building inside her were overwhelming. Every flick of his tongue, every gentle suck, drove her closer to the edge.

"Fuck," she breathed, her voice a mix of desperation and need.

He hummed in response, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through her. His tongue moved faster, more insistent, as if he was determined to unravel her completely. Y/n's body tensed, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. She was so close, teetering on the brink of release.

Mikey sensed her nearing climax and doubled his efforts, his tongue working her with a skill that left her breathless. He added his fingers, sliding one inside her, then another, curling them in a way that made her see stars. The combination of his mouth and fingers was too much.

With a cry, Y/n came undone, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm. Waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling and breathless. Mikey didn't stop, his tongue and fingers drawing out her climax until she was a quivering mess beneath him.

her in his arms. Y/n's heart was still racing, her body still humming with aftershocks of pleasure. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and love.

"Feel better?" he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

(My requests are always open)

You let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness! Her forehead isn't as big as yours. I was really worried for real."

Ran and your daughter froze for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Dang, Dad, are you really just gonna take that?" she teased, eyes sparkling with mischief. She was sharp and knew exactly how to stir the pot. (Wonder where she got that from?)

"My forehead was never that big, (Your Name)!" Ran grumbled as he continued to braid her hair. "Stop moving," he scolded gently, holding her shoulders to keep her still. His attempts only made her laugh more.

"Bet," you said, pulling out your phone and removing the cover to reveal an old photo.

"(Your Name), don't you even think about it!"

"(Your Daughter's Name), come look at your dad when he was your age!" The moment you said that, she jumped up and ran (ha pun intended fight me.) to your side on the couch, her hair half braided and half undone.

Ran slumped in defeat as the sound of your laughter filled the room. "He looked like Annabelle!" your daughter exclaimed.

"Righttt!" you laughed, pulling her close. "Here, let me finish your other braid." She sat between your legs, watching TV while you worked on her hair. When you finished, you patted and kissed her head. "There you go, love. You look stunning."

Glancing down, you noticed she had dozed off, her head resting on your thigh. Smiling, you gently picked her up and held her close to your chest. Despite her growing up, you couldn’t help but treat her like your little girl.

From across the room, Ran watched the scene with a soft smile. He sneakily took out his phone, snapped a picture, and set it as his new wallpaper. Standing up, he pouted playfully. "You stole my daughter."

"She loves me more, Ran. Just accept it," you said with a smug grin.

He gasped dramatically, acting offended.

A small groan interrupted your banter. "Mom, Dad, I love you," your daughter mumbled sleepily.

A tender smile tugged at Ran's lips as he sat down on the couch, pulling both of you into his embrace. "You two are my entire world. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Probably go on a killing spree.

It was a daily routine she had forced herself to accept and get used to. Every morning, she woke up early to make breakfast for her two younger siblings. She would get them up, dressed, and ready for school, then walk them there. After returning home, she cooked a simple breakfast for herself, the last meal before facing her own day. She prepared for her own challenges, getting dressed and ready for school, and finally locked up their small, one-bedroom apartment before leaving.

"Hey, Y/N-chan!" Her friend, who walked the same path to school every day, called out. This caused her to stop, turn, and greet her with a forced smile.

Despite being Hina's upperclassman and older by two years, she found herself running into Hina quite often.

"Hey, Hina," she quietly said with a nod, noticing the concern that quickly clouded Hina's face.

"Did you get enough sleep last night, Y/N? You look tired. I have some water here. Drink up." Hina handed her a water bottle, which she raised her hand to refuse.

"It's alright, I'm fine. I was just working extra late yesterday. I'll manage," she politely declined, not used to accepting anything from anyone, even something as simple as a bottle of water.

"Wow, you're working really hard, Y/N. I've always admired that about you. You're so cool!" Hina chirped.

"Yeah, I guess I do," she muttered, before hearing a distant yell.

"Hinata!"

They both stopped in their tracks and turned to see a breathless boy, probably having run to catch up with them. He had messy yellow-blonde hair and a disheveled school uniform. Y/N took it as her chance to continue her walk to school alone.

"I'll let you be with your boyfriend now. It was good talking to you, though," she quickly said before walking a little faster, leaving them behind.

She let out a sigh of relief as she arrived early to class, immediately taking out her math textbook to review the day's lesson. This was her routine before class started and before any of her classmates arrived. Since she didn't have time to study after school because of her job, she used every morning to teach herself the material and complete her homework.

"Wow, already getting to work, L/N. You really are a hard worker. That's a good trait to have, especially rare to see in someone so young," her teacher remarked, accustomed to seeing her as the first one in class as always.

Day after day seemed to pass quickly. The school day was almost over, and there was little she looked forward to—except for seeing her siblings, of course. That was the highlight of her day. She would walk from her school to pick them up, make sure they got home safely, then head to her job and finish the day as usual.

"Well, that's the bell. You guys have a great rest of your day." The teacher finally said as the school bell rang signaling it was time to go. 

She was always the first to pack her things and head out before the hallways got crowded. She quickly sprinted, heading for her younger brother's school first. Being a third-year student herself, he was still a first-year being 14, and her youngest sister, who was in elementary school. 

The sky was overcast as she arrived at her brother's school gates, a slight chill in the air hinting at the approaching evening. She waited... and waited... until impatience began to gnaw at her. She called out to one of the kids leaving.

"Hey, um, do you know where Kenji is?" she asked, sounding a bit awkward.

The kid looked up from his iPod. "Huh, Kenji? Oh, I saw him earlier. Some upperclassmen dragged him off somewhere. I'm not really sure though. Who are you?"

Panic gripped her heart. She left the kid confused and quickly started searching for her brother. She knew all too well that when upperclassmen dragged a younger kid away, it usually ended badly. She had to find him before it was too late, before he got hurt.

"Dammit, dammit, GODDAMMIT," she muttered, her mind racing as she began running around the nearby parks and alleys by the school. "They couldn't have gotten that far."

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves around her and adding to her sense of urgency. Every shadow seemed threatening as she scanned the area, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of Kenji before anything terrible happened.

As she rounded a corner, she heard the unmistakable sounds of kids bullying someone. Her heart pounded as she hurried closer, the voices becoming clearer. She realized with a sinking feeling that it was her brother, Kenji, who was getting beat up.

"You think you're tough, huh? Hand over the money!" one of the bullies demanded.

Kenji's voice was shaky. "I don't have any more. Please, just leave me alone."

Fury surged through her as she got closer and saw the scene: three upperclassmen surrounding Kenji, forcing him to buy them drinks and physically beating on him. She recognized her own hard-earned money being stolen from her brother.

"Hey! Get away from him, fucking dickheads!" she yelled, her voice filled with malice.

The bullies turned, startled. Their matching jackets bore the emblem of the "Tokyo Manji Gang." They seemed taken aback by her fierce glare and the anger radiating from her.

One of the bullies sneered, "And who are you?"

"I'm his sister. Now get lost before I bust all of your asses right now," she threatened, her voice dripping with venom.

The bullies hesitated, clearly intimidated by her presence.

"Let's go," one of them muttered, and they began to back off.

As they retreated, one of them tossed a parting comment over his shoulder, "We'll catch you later. Your sister can't protect you forever, punk!"

She ignored the taunt and rushed to Kenji's side, kneeling down to check if he was okay.

"Kenji, are you hurt?" she asked, her voice softening with concern.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, though he looked shaken. "Thanks, sis."

She hugged him tightly, feeling a mix of relief and anger. "Let's get you home. Don't worry, okay? I'll figure something out and patch you up."

As they walked home together, she kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, determined to protect her brother and make sure those gangsters wouldn't bother him again.

With Kenji in tow, Y/N hurried to their youngest sister's elementary school. When they arrived, little Reina was waiting outside, her eyes lighting up when she saw her siblings.

"Hi, Y/N! Hi, Kenji!" Reina chirped, running up to them.

"Hey, Reina," Y/N said with a smile, taking her hand. "Let’s get home."

Once they were home, Y/N set Reina up with a cartoon show on her computer to keep her occupied. Then, she turned her attention to Kenji, gently cleaning and bandaging his cuts and bruises.

"Kenji, what happened today?" she asked softly, trying to keep her voice calm.

Kenji hesitated, looking down. "I've become a slave to the Tokyo Manji Gang. They force me to spend money on them and made me join a fight club. They bet on me and I get beat up so they can win money."

Y/N felt fury boiling inside her, but she kept her expression calm. "How long has this been going on?" she asked, her voice tight.

Kenji shrugged, his eyes welling up with tears. "A few months. I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you'd worry."

Y/N clenched her fists, trying to suppress her anger. "You should have told me sooner. We’ll figure this out together. Don't worry about anything anymore, okay? I'll take care of it," she reassured him, trying to sound confident. "Now, let’s eat."

She prepared a meal for both her siblings, setting the table and making sure they had everything they needed. As they ate, she kept an eye on Kenji, noting the bruises and the tired look in his eyes. She felt a surge of protectiveness and determination.

After dinner, Y/N headed to work at a nearby café. The café was bustling with customers when two young guys, about her age, walked in. She overheard their conversation and caught their names—Mikey and Draken.

"Mikey, you think we'll see any action tonight?" Draken asked, leaning against the counter.

"Who knows," Mikey replied, glancing around the café. His eyes landed on Y/N, and he nudged Draken. "Hey, check her out. She's pretty cute."

Y/N, focused on her work, didn’t notice their attention. She served them with a polite smile, not engaging in conversation.

After her long shift, Y/N changed into her simple regular clothes: Just a regular white top with jeans and a pair of flats, not that she had much clothes to begin with. On her way home, she noticed a few guys wearing the same uniform as the gangsters from earlier. Remembering her promise to protect Kenji, she decided to follow them.

They led her to a shrine, where hundreds of gang members were gathered. She sneaked around, looking for the guys who had beaten up her brother. Just as she thought she spotted them, she failed to notice a member who had detected the ruckus in the bushes. He approached her from behind and caught her.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he sneered, gripping her arm tightly.

Y/N’s heart raced, but she met his gaze with defiance. "Let go of me," she demanded, her voice steady.

The guy smirked, tightening his grip. "You think you can just sneak around here without getting caught? Who are you?"

"None of your business," Y/N shot back, trying to yank her arm free.

He leaned closer, his breath hot against her face. "You’ve got guts, but that won't help you here."

Before he could say more, another voice called out, "Hey, what's going on over there?"

Before Y/N could react, the gang member dragged her roughly through the throng of Tokyo Manji Gang members, pushing her all the way to the front. The leader, none other than Mikey—the guy from the café—stood there, a look of confusion on his face. Beside him was another familiar figure: Takemichi, Hina's boyfriend. Y/N's heart sank, recognizing him as someone she never expected to see in a gang.

Eyes narrowing as he took in Y/N, Mikey said, "What brings you here?"

Y/N glanced around, noticing the expectant stares from the gang members. Among them was a strong-looking girl with short hair, her cute appearance at odds with the tough crowd. Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself.

"I’m here because of my brother," she began, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her stomach. "Some of your members have been using the gang's name to extort money and torment innocent people. My brother, Kenji, is one of their victims. They forced him to join a fight club where he gets beat up for their bets."

Mikey's eyes widened slightly, a mixture of shock and curiosity on his face. "Is that so?"

Y/N continued, "I won't let it slide. I'll stand against all of you if I have to, to protect my brother."

Mikey raised an eyebrow, impressed by her determination. "Call them out," he ordered.

Y/N pointed to the three boys who had bullied her brother. They reluctantly stepped forward, smirking confidently.

"Is this true?" Mikey asked, his tone dangerously calm.

One of the bullies sneered, "Yeah, it's true. That little pussy deserves everything he gets. He's weak and a loser. If anything, he deserves to die."

Another bully added, "Mikey, you'll side with us any day over some random bitch who interrupted our meeting."

Y/N's blood boiled. She stepped forward, fists clenched. "You think you're so tough? Let's see how you handle someone who fights back."

Without warning, she launched herself at the nearest bully, landing a solid punch to his jaw. She moved with precision and fury, taking down the three boys with a series of well-placed strikes. The fight was swift and brutal, and by the end, the bullies lay on the ground, groaning in pain.

Mikey watched, a mixture of amusement and admiration in his eyes. Some of the other gang members cheered Y/N on, clearly impressed by her courage and skill.

Breathing heavily, Y/N stood over the fallen bullies. "I'm done here. I don't need anything else from you," she declared, turning to leave.

As she walked away, Mikey called out, "Bye, Y/N. I'll see you later."

Y/N paused, glancing back at him with a puzzled expression. Why would she ever see him again? But she didn't have time to ponder. She needed to get home and take care of her brother.

The night was cool, with a light breeze rustling the trees around the Musashi Shrine. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow over the scene. As Y/N made her way home, she couldn't shake the feeling that her encounter with the Tokyo Manji Gang was far from over.

Back at their small apartment, she found Kenji and Reina waiting for her. Kenji looked up, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay, sis?"

"I'm fine," she assured him, giving him a reassuring smile. "Everything's going to be okay."

She knew she had made an impression on Mikey and the gang, but what that meant for the future remains uncertain. For now, she focused on protecting what's left of her family.

--