놔

── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ HANMA SHUJI headcanons

hanma has a terrible habit of disappearing for hours and then showing up like nothing happened, with a cigarette already between his fingers and a grin that tells you he’s been somewhere he probably shouldn’t have been. before he says hello, he flicks the ash away, takes one last drag, and makes a point of standing downwind so the smoke doesn’t blow into your face. “don’t give me that look,” he laughs when you wrinkle your nose.

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

ᡣ𐭩 ft: rindou haitani, ran haitani, sanzu haruchiyo, kakucho hitto

ᡣ𐭩 notes: hii i’m so so sorryyy i got to this late!! i started it a while ago but left it in my drafts and only just finished it now 😭

✧ RINDOU HAITANI ✧

he freezes for a full three seconds. genuinely doesn’t know how to process it. you??? liking him? he replays every conversation you’ve ever had in his head like he missed some obvious sign. outwardly, he just shrugs, trying to act unbothered. “…ohh. uhh cool.” but later? he’s spiraling in private. he’ll be scrolling through your old texts, analyzing your tone, and wonder how he could have missed all the signs. the next time you meet him, he’s weirdly nice. he’ll start offering you his jacket, randomly sends you songs that remind him of you and even take you out on little “hangouts” that feel suspiciously like dates. poor boy doesn’t know how to handle his own crush getting reciprocated.

──★

✧ RAN HAITANI ✧

he smirks immediately. the ‘oh, really now?’ kind. you were acting all normal around him this whole time… but turns out you actually liked him??? “so you’ve been checkin’ me out, huh?” he’ll for sure be teasing you nonstop about it, calls you out every time you get flustered around him, leans a little too close, and lowkey weaponizes how hot you think he is… but underneath that cocky grin??? he’s actually SUPER happy about it. he starts getting bolder after that – always finding excuses to be near you, throwing his arm around your shoulders & saying corny stuff just to get you flustered. he’ll try to play it smooth, but his heart is racing at the fact that his crush actually liked him back.

──★

✧ SANZU HARUCHIYO ✧

he just laughs. a little unhinged, and a little surprised honestly. “… you sure about that?” he probably doesn’t trust it at first. he thinks you’re joking or setting him up. it’ll take him a while to realize that you actually like him so when it finally hits him, it’s like someone lit a match inside him – and he instantly gets addicted to the idea. suddenly, he wants to be around you more, wants to hear you say it again & wants you to prove it to him. he won’t say he likes you back justtt yet, but the way he watches you after? yeah… he’s already down so so bad. and when other guys get too close to you??? he’ll be making sure they back off real quick & he’s not afraid to use underhanded methods to do it.

──★

✧ KAKUCHO HITTO ✧

he goes quiet. like… really quiet. brows furrowed, eyes searching yours like he’s not sure he heard you right the first time. “… wait you like me?” he’s not shocked because he thinks he’s unlovable, he’s just shocked because he feels like you’re wayyy out of his league. but once he realizes that you’re serious, he just… smiles kind of in awe before softly saying, “then i guess i can finally tell you that i’ve always had a crush on you…” after that? he becomes the most respectful boyfriend ever!!! he checks in on you throughout the day, protects you while also keeping you safe from any sort of danger & notices when you’re overwhelmed before you even say it. this man will cherish the hell out of you <33

fratboy! ran haitani AU ⋆˚ ✮

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

ᡣ𐭩 notes: waittt you’re lowkey so real for this bc why is he & rindou sooo fratboy coded lmao 😭 if i get inspired enough, this might actually turn into a drabble… or maybe even a one-shot

✶ no doubt the life of the party. he’s the one pouring shots straight into people’s mouths, climbing on top of tables once he’s too drunk, and by midnight??? half the house is chanting his name like he’s some sort of legend. “ran! ran! ran!”

✶ definitely the puppetmaster behind every unforgettable, borderline-illegal parties on campus — he’s the one booking DJs, bribing bartenders, sneaking kegs past campus security & charming RA’s into looking the other way.

sure he’s not technically the frat president but let’s be real, he and rindou still call the shots. the influence they have is insane. everyone knows if the haitani brothers says it’s happening, it’s happening; people fear them & absolutely no one dares to mess with them.

✶ teases every girl but makes you feel like you’re the only one who actually gets under his skin. the moment you roll your eyes at him??? he leans in, and murmurs something that makes your heart skip for all the wrong reasons: “now… i like girls like you the most — fiestyyy”

✶ has a habit of pulling you into his lap at parties, especially when other guys are around. “nah, stay here,” he says casually, with a hand firm on your thigh. “don’t need you wandering off when i’m right here.”

✶ never makes it official, but treats you like you’re off-limits. he’ll walk right up while you’re mid-conversation with another guy, then lean in with that cocky smirk & say: “oh??? this the new guy? must not be hittin’ it right if you’re still callin’ me at 2am.”

✶ he’ll shamelessly make out with other people in front of you just to test the waters — always watching you from the corner of his eye, smirking when he catches your expression twitch. but when you do it back??? ohhh, he’s fuming — pretends not to care at first but once you’re behind closed doors, he’s on you in seconds. “you trying to drive me insane babe? you like seeing me pissed off??

✶ as much as he tries to play it cool, he doesn’t hesitate to throw a punch if someone keeps flirting with you, especially after he’s already warned them once. he’ll shrug it off later with a, “what?? he was gettin’ annoying,” like he didn’t just lose his temper over someone he swears isn’t his girlfriend.

and when you call him out for it, he’ll lean against the wall while looking everywhere else, but at you then say: “can’t you tell i’m losing my fucking mind over you??”

ᡣ𐭩 featuring: ran haitani, rindou haitani, hanma shuji, izana kurokawa, kakucho hitto

ᡣ𐭩 notes: just thinking about the tokyo rev boys having the biggest crush on you but being too scared to say it out loud, so they show it instead; in the things they do for you, in the effort they’ll never talk about & in the way they care without calling it love 🥹

✧ RAN HAITANI ✧

𖥔 ran will say “you’re so troublesome,” but his hand’s already brushing your hair behind your ear, especially when it’s gotten all messy from the wind.

𖥔 he pretends he’s uninterested, but somehow you never pay for your own food when he’s around. and when you ask why, he just leans back in his seat, eyes half-lidded and says, “.. what? i was hungry anyway. so i paid for us both.”

𖥔 you once complain about having headaches and then the next day, there’s already a new bottle of meds sitting on your desk with a note that says: ‘don’t forget to take this.’

𖥔 ran flirts like he’s playing around, but the truth is; he shows love through the little things he does. it’s in the routines he builds around you, the things he quietly manages so you never have to ask twice, or at all.

✧ RINDOU HAITANI ✧

𖥔 rindou won’t admit that he has a crush on you, he’ll just sit beside you in silence with his hand resting close to yours while secretly hoping that you feel the same way as he does.

𖥔 he keeps a playlist on his phone titled with your initials — filled with songs that remind him of you. he listens to it alone, usually late at night, but he’ll never let you see it.

𖥔 the moment he notices that you’re shivering even just a little, his hoodie is already off and over your shoulders before you can say a word.

𖥔 and if you cry? he won’t ask why. he’ll just hold you tighter until you’re ready to speak.

but if it turns out some guy was the reason??? ohhh… he better count his days. because rindou haitani doesn’t just get even, he makes sure they regret ever hurting you.

✧ HANMA SHUJI ✧

𖥔 hanma calls you annoying with that familiar grin but he knows your iced coffee order by heart, right down to your sugar level preference and the exact swirl of syrup you like.

𖥔 he always says he hates coming to school, always complains about how pointless it is but still shows up every single day just to see you. and the one time you didn’t come for three days in a row???? he didn’t ask around— he simply investigated. he found whatever scraps of information he could just to figure out where you were, what happened, and why he felt so restless not knowing.

𖥔 he’s the type to roll his eyes, call you a brat, throw in a “whatever” but his gaze always finds you first no matter how crowded the room is.

𖥔 and if you ever get hurt? that’s when you’ll really see it. because hanma’s love shows up fastest when fear does, and whoever touched you??? they’ll wish they were never born.

✧ IZANA KUROKAWA ✧

𖥔 izana never tells people you’re off-limits. infact he doesn’t have to as they already see it in the way he watches you; it’s an unspoken rule that you’re untouchable.

𖥔 he never directly says “you’re beautiful.” instead, he just stares at you whenever he thinks you’re not looking. he memorizes the shape of your tired eyes, your laugh, the way your hands move when you’re ranting about something small. and you’ll catch him staring sometimes, but he’ll immediately look away.

𖥔 when you’re sick, he paces the room like a ghost — wiping your sweat, changing out towels, muttering “idiot” under his breath to cover the quiet panic in his chest.

𖥔 he keeps telling himself it isn’t love, but he still makes sure you’re safe. still checks that you’re okay, because if he can’t give you the kind of joy he thinks you deserve — he’ll protect your peace in every quiet way only he knows how.

✧ KAKUCHO HITTO ✧

𖥔 kakucho memorizes the sound of your sighs. the ones that mean you’re drained, the ones laced with frustration, and the quietest one of all; the ones that mean you’re just pretending to be fine even when you’re not.

he doesn’t ask right away, he waits until there’s no one else around and then softly says, “talk to me, okay?”

𖥔 the moment you fall asleep on him, he freezes. not out of discomfort, but because something in his chest shifts. but he doesn’t move away even when his arm goes numb.

𖥔 he might not always know the right words to say. but when you’re upset, he brings your comfort food and wipes your tears in silence. because if he can’t fix it, he wants to at least be there and help you get through it.

𖥔 he might not be the type for grand gestures, but when he murmurs “get home safe,” it’s his own way of saying you matter to him more than you know.

I LIKE BIG BUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE! ⎯⎯⎯⎯ he just loves your butt so much! so plushy, the perfect size to fit it right into his hands. it’s not his fault that you have such a cute ass, he just has to touch and play with it all the time! he’ll simply go crazy if you keep teasing him with those tight jeans and small skirts and not let him touch your butt, he just needs to fuck it! won’t you just be nice and let him? ♡

FEATURING: hanma shuji, ryusei satou, kazutora hanemiya, ran haitani, wakasa imaushi! all chars AGED UP!

𝜗𝜚. HANMA SHUJI!

he just loves your ass. it’s so unfair, those tiny little skirts you wear, the way you tease him as if you were so sly. the way when you’d jump into his arms since he’s so much taller than you and your skirt rides up, fuck, he gets bricked up so quickly whenever you do that. he has no shame when you’re in public, either, he’ll slap your ass whenever your going up or down stairs and he’s behind you, or just blatantly hold and squeeze your butt at the most random times.

but, by far, nothing was better than bending you over and fucking you dumb. the way your ass got so plumpy, just begging to be spanked and squeezed as he shoved his pretty and lean cock into you, it was so perfect that it had him salivating. he’s one of those guys that will grab a hot wheels car and run it over your butt as he fucks you so teasingly, just playing with you the entire time. you hated and loved him for it. not to mention, in the final timeline, he definitely loves taking pornos of you two to keep for himself, and is always taking pics of you for safekeeping.

𝜗𝜚. RYUSEI SATOU!

his playful energy is so infectious, and everybody in toman knows his specific infatuation with not just regular you—but also your pretty lil ass! he’d randomly hug you out of nowhere and place his hands on your butt, squeezing the soft flesh with a cheeky giggle. that was years ago now, but even then, nothing had changed. he still loved teasing you and touching your butt like a damn perv!

he especially adored whenever you asked him if a cute skirt or a pair of shorts looked good on you, cause he didn’t care if it made him go dirt broke, if he got to see your ass jiggling whenever you jump up or when you run over to hug him, he’s a happy man. and oh, god—the way he slowly strips that new skirt off of you, just slipping those pretty pink panties to the side as he admired your soaked cunt in the dressing room, unable to wait until the two of you got home.. it was amazing.

𝜗𝜚. KAZUTORA HANEMIYA!

he gets so shy about it, he feels like such a pervert whenever he’s taking sneaky looks at your butt whenever your skirt flies up in the wind. he’ll always try pulling your shorts or your skirts down, his face so flush it looked like a tomato. his hands trembled and shook just getting anywhere near your hips cause he knows that if he doesn’t control himself, it’ll end with his hands on your ass. whenever you sit on his lap, he straight up buffers and needs to reboot himself just to function properly.

he gets so submissive at times, letting you kiss all over the sensitive column of his neck and take control. his hands will be roaming all over your hips, shakily toying with the edge of your skirt and pulling it up shyly. don’t get him wrong, though, cause he gets so hard from your dominating personaly that it hurts. he’ll throw you into the backseat of his car where you were parked in a random parking lot, stripping off your clothing and practically drooling at the sight of your soaked panties. he’ll turn you onto your tummy and start placing kisses along your butt, before lifting you up on your tummy and laying on his back so that he can eat you out.

𝜗𝜚. RAN HAITANI!

he’s so smug about it. it’s infuriating, the way he’ll pat his lap with the same charismatic smile that he always has on his lips, pulling you by your waist to straddle him. he doesn’t care if he’s at a club, especially if it’s his and his brothers’, of if he’s at a casino, or if he’s just at home. he didn’t care if this was in public, you wanna know why? cause, sitting on his lap, every single time, only ends up with one thing happening and one thing only: riding him.

and he gets you so worked up that you simply have to ride him, whether or not your embarrassed doing this in public or not. he’ll whisper both praises and degrading words in your ear the entire time after you’d pulled your panties to the side and undid his trousers, slowly moving up and down as he caressed the curve of your butt. he’ll say things like ’you’re such a slut, doing this in front of all of these people, you just can’t get enough of me, can you?’ with such a sly grin on his face, or he’ll say ’come on, don’t be shy. you’re doing so good, you can go faster than that.’

𝜗𝜚. WAKASA IMAUSHI!

he was so casual the first time you met him, you never thought he would be like this after you started dating. he was nonchalant about it, but he would randomly sling himself over you and hold your butt, and he would play with it and squeeze your ass as if it was some adhd toy to fidget with. he said he likes your tits more, but his actions said otherwise. whenever you were laying on your tummy, he would plop down on the bed with you and just wrap his arms around your hips, his face buried into your plushy butt—and he always fell asleep so quickly like that.

but, don’t get him wrong, he might be casual and nonchalant, hell- even affectionate about it, but he’s not any nicer when in sex. he loves fucking you lazily, making you stay up in doggy as he caresses your butt, watching the way his dick slides in and out of you.. but nothing could beat whenever you sat on his face! you got so worried about it at first, and he had to drag you down onto him just for you to do it. he’ll randomly pat or slap your ass as he eats you out, tongue lapping up all your juices. he plays with your ass as a sign for you, to tell you that he’s okay since he’s aware of your worries.

© 2025 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔, all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, steal or translate my works onto other social media platforms. | 🏷️; @sweetcrunchygrapes

a/n: idk I just thought about this, hope you enjoy!

notes: Bonten x reader

Well, fuck.

At this current moment you’re sitting outside one of Bonten’s meeting rooms patiently waiting for your fate. How could a receptionist fuck up this badly? For a criminal organisation that literally specialises in death, they sure do have a bunch of company policy bullshit when it comes to punching another Bonten member in the face. To be fair, he completely deserved it, especially after calling you “lowlife trash”. After that, there really wasn’t must that you could do, you just had to punch him in his stupid face. And you don’t regret it, even if it costs you your life.

For the last 4 months, working as a front desk receptionist at Japan’s most notorious criminal organisation, has been interesting, to say the least. Most of your job consists out of greeting members at the entrance of the Bonten building with nothing but a smile. Most of the lower level members of Bonten always greet you back, with plastered on smiles and hungry eyes that rake your body from top to bottom. It disgusts you, but one way or another you’ll be sitting in one of those executive seats, bossing people around and drinking with the big boys.

Speaking of the big boys, they never greet you.

Rindou Haitani. He often comes walking into the building, hands in his pockets, and an expression on his face that executes pure boredom. He hasn’t greeted you once in the 4 months that you’ve worked here. You’ve greeted him once, of which he stared at you directly in the eyes, and flat out ignored you. Ever since then, you haven’t greeted him.

His infamous older brother, Ran Haitani. The first thing you noticed about him was the smell of his expensive cologne. His hair is always slicked back perfectly, and his suit is probably worth more than your life. He’s greeting you once. To be honest, you wouldn’t even call it greeting. He waltz in there, busy on the phone. As per your basic expectation contract, you have to greet everyone that walks into the building. So of course, you greeted with a high pitched “Hi!” and a rosey smile, expecting nothing in return. Now imagine your surprise when he quickly glanced out you - still on the phone - and shot you a quick wink. You’d be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t like the way it made you feel.

Haruchiyo Sanzu - the craziest motherfucker alive. Every single time he enters the Bonten building, he’s either drunk or high or both. He always greets you back, with a mischievous smirk and nine out of ten times, manic eyes combined with a simple “Hi, Doll.” Sometimes you swear you can feel him undressing you with his eyes. He scares you. Especially when he walks into the building with clothes drenched in blood and an attitude that screams ‘no fucks given’.

Hajime Kokonoi AKA the man who hired you. Needless to say, he’s been the ‘nicest’ towards you. Always greeting first, followed by a ‘how are you today?’ The thing you appreciate most about Kokonoi is his calming demeanour, and in an organisation like Bonten when everything is constantly chaos, it’s nice having a calming presence around. In fact, you’re sitting outside of his meeting room right now, waiting to be called in. You’re hoping that his calm demeanour stays just that when he finds out what you’ve done.

The first thing you noticed about Kakucho wasn’t the massive scar on his face, but rather his eyes. You remember thinking to yourself that this man has beautiful eyes the one time you made eye contact. He also never greets you.

Manjiro Sano - the man you’ve heard so much about, but never seen. When reception get quiet, you like to fantasise about what he looks like. You wonder what colour his hair is, and how the fuck he managed to start an organisation as powerful as Bonten. You wonder how his persona is like. Surely he must be ruthless as hell, even more so than Sanzu. The thought sends shivers up your spine, and in some sense, you’re happy that you’ve never seen him before.

Which brings us back to where you are now. Sitting quietly outside the meeting room, trying your best to listen in to what that motherfucker is saying about you to Kokonoi. You just know that he’s speaking shit about you. Your leg is bouncing up and down and you’re struggling to keep yourself calm, especially when you hear that ugly motherfucker refer to you as a “stupid slut” behind the closed doors.

You keep telling yourself to sit still, to look composed, to not give that bastard the satisfaction of knowing you’re nervous; but your body betrays you. Every muffled voice from inside the meeting room makes your pulse spike, especially his. The one you punched. You can hear him whining, dramatising the situation, dragging your name through the dirt, and every insult makes your fingers curl into fists.

You stare down at the polished marble tiles, trying to focus on your breathing, when something shifts in the corner of your vision. A shadow, maybe. Fabric moving. Your head spikes up immediately.

There’s a man standing a few meters away, like he’d been there the entire time.

You hadn’t heard footsteps. No doors opening. No presence approaching. He’s just there, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, expression unreadable. The kind of stillness that feels deliberate, controlled. Like he takes up space without trying.

Silver hair, colder eyes than anyone you’ve met in this building, but there’s no recognition. No dramatic aura. He doesn’t look dangerous. He just looks… calm. Too calm for Bonten. He isn’t glaring or judging. He’s simply watching you, as if observing a crime scene he hasn’t decided how to interpret yet.

For a moment you wonder if you’re supposed to say hi. You open your mouth, but he speaks first.

“Do you think they’ll kick you out?”

His tone isn’t mocking. Not pitying. Not even curious. It’s just neutral, like he’s asking about the weather. You blink, thrown off by how casual it sounds.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice tight. “Maybe.”

He tilts his head slightly - barely an expression, eyes still locked on yours. It’s hard to tell if he’s bored or calculating.

“Hm.”

Just that. A single syllable. He looks away, begins walking past you like the conversation never happened. Not fast, not slow - just drifting, silent footsteps that somehow make no sound at all.

You watch him disappear around the corner, and the air feels colder once he’s gone. Whoever he was, he didn’t greet you. He didn’t threaten you. He didn’t seem to care at all. But your stomach twists anyway. Because for some reason, being ignored by him feels more dangerous than being noticed by anyone else in this building.

The door clicks open, and the noise behind it dies instantly. Kokonoi stands by the head of the long conference table, eyes shifting to you with that calm, unreadable expression he always has—like he’s calculating profit margins, not people.

“Sit,” he says simply.

You take the seat farthest from him, the seat at the back, spine straight, hands on your lap, pretending you’re not trembling. The guy you punched sits across from you, arms crossed, a bruised cheek already turning purple. He won’t look at you—just keeps glaring at the table like it personally offended him.

“You instigated physical violence against a ranked member of Bonten,” Kokonoi begins, tone flat. “And while the circumstances are questionable, the reputation cost isn’t negligible.”

You open your mouth to speak - but the door opens again. Three new presences enter the room like a shift in atmosphere.

Ran walks in first, hands in his pockets, expression laced with amused curiosity—as if he already knows something you don’t. His eyes flick down your body once, then he smiles to himself and takes a seat beside Kokonoi without acknowledging you.

Rindou follows, shoulders tense, eyes sharp and assessing. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, stare cutting through you like he’s trying to diagnose a problem he hasn’t decided how to fix.

Sanzu is last - hair slightly messy, gaze unfocused yet far too intense at the same time. He shuts the door behind him with unnecessary force and sits down lazily, lips twitching into a smirk when he sees you.

None of them speak.

No introductions. No greeting.

Just eyes on you.

Kokonoi continues like their arrival means nothing, but the room feels tighter. “You understand that striking a member disrupts internal hierarchy,” he says. “There are protocols. Chain of command. A receptionist has no clearance to-”

“Who told you to sit in the back?” Sanzu interrupts, tilting his head at you. Your heartbeat stops. Everyone looks at you. You swallow. “No one. I just-”

“So you assumed you belonged there?” he says, voice soft but mocking. “Interesting.”

Ran snorts quietly, tapping his fingers on the table. “She’s got instinct. Better than most rookies.”

“Instinct gets people killed,” Rindou mutters.

None of them are looking at the guy you hit anymore—they’re looking at you. Kokonoi’s gaze sharpens slightly, a crack in his calm.

“This wasn’t supposed to be a panel review.”

Sanzu’s smile widens, manic interest flickering in his eyes. “Oh, we’re not here for the review.”

Ran’s voice is smooth, lazy, dangerous. “We’re here because he wanted to know why she did it.” Silence drops like a knife. Your pulse spikes. You force your voice to stay steady.

“Who?” All three look at you like the answer should be obvious. Sanzu leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes burning holes in your skin.

“Mikey.”

Your breath stops. Kokonoi finally looks away, exhaling through his nose like this entire situation is a problem he now has to solve.

“Sano wanted us to observe your disposition,” Ran clarifies, eyes narrowing with intrigue. “He doesn’t usually care about receptionists.”

The man you punched erupts, slamming his fist on the table. “What the hell does she have to do with the Boss?! She’s the one in the wrong-”

Kokonoi lifts a hand and the room goes quiet like someone cut the sound. “This isn’t a punishment hearing anymore,” he says calmly. “It’s an evaluation.”

You suddenly understand: You’re not here to be disciplined. You’re here to be assessed. By Mikey. Through them. And none of them look like they intend to be gentle.

For a second it’s silent. No one tells you to speak, so you sit there, hands pressed together in your lap, pulse hammering in your throat. Kokonoi finally folds his arms and faces you directly.

“Why did you hit him?” His voice is calm, almost bored, as if there is a right answer and he already doubts you have it. You take a breath. “He insulted me.”

“That’s not an answer,” Kokonoi replies instantly, “It’s a reaction.” Sanzu drags a slow glare across the table toward him, and he immediately shuts up. No one tells him to. He just knows.

Kokonoi continues. “You’re in an organisation built on hierarchy. Insults come with the territory. Why couldn’t you control yourself?”

“Because I didn’t think that he deserved to speak to me that way,” you answer boldly. The room shifts. Very slightly. Like you said something incorrect. Ran raises a brow, intrigued. Rindou’s expression darkens. Kokonoi’s jaw tightens the way it does when numbers don’t balance.

Sanzu is the one who speaks. “You think respect is something you’re owed.” He says it like a diagnosis, not a criticism. You swallow. “I think respect goes both ways.”

Ran laughs under his breath, leaning back. “Oh, she’s bold.”

Rindou mutters, “No. She’s naïve.”

Kokonoi muses quietly, “Boldness without power is a death sentence.”

Before you can respond, Sanzu taps the table with one finger. “Stand up.” It’s not a request. Your chair scrapes loudly against the marble as you rise. The sound echoes too long. Sanzu watches you like he’s tracking prey - lazy posture, razor-sharp eyes. He gestures to the guy you punched.

“Hit him again.”

You stare at Sanzu, unsure if you heard correctly. Ran stops tapping his fingers. Rindou’s gaze sharpens. Even Kokonoi looks at Sanzu like he’s testing a hypothesis too early.

“I…” Your voice catches. “Right now?”

“No,” Sanzu deadpans. “Next Tuesday.” Then he smiles. Sharp and dominating. “Of course right now.” The man across from you shifts uncomfortably, suddenly less confident now that other eyes are on him.

Kokonoi sighs. “This isn’t necessary.”

“It is,” Sanzu counters, tone sugary-sweet but laced with venom. “She acted on impulse. I want to see if she has conviction.”

Ran folds his hands behind his head.

“Or if she only fights when she’s emotional.”

Rindou adds, “Or if she learned her lesson.”

All eyes return to you. You feel heat crawl up your neck. Every instinct screams that this is a trap - for you or for him, you’re not sure. “But-” You pause, choosing your words carefully, “What is the purpose?”

Ran smirks. “She wants a business case for assault.” Out of the corner of your eyes, you see how Rindou rolls his eyes, before replying with, “Purpose is obedience. You were given an order.”

Your pulse spikes. They’re not testing your violence. They’re testing your submission. Slowly, you exhale. “No.” The room goes dead silent and you wish you would just evaporate into thin air, because what the living fuck is going on.

Sanzu’s smile vanishes, replaced by something darker, “You’re refusing?” You nod once. “I won’t hit someone just because I was told to. I hit him because he crossed a line. That hasn’t changed.” The air shifts again - this time in your favor, somehow. Ran looks like he just discovered a new favorite distraction. Even Rindou looks reluctantly impressed.

Kokonoi leans back, studying you more deeply now. “So you’re not impulsive. You’re principled.” Sanzu taps his teeth with his tongue, clearly irritated, “Or she’s just stubborn.”

Ran counters smoothly, “Stubborn keeps people alive longer than obedient.” The guy you punched finally snaps.“Why the fuck are we entertaining this? She’s a receptionist. She doesn’t matter-”

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

Sanzu’s chair screeches back as he stands, crosses the room in three steps, and slams his hand onto the guy’s shoulder so hard the table shakes. His voice drops to a whisper that everyone hears. “If he didn’t want us here, we wouldn’t be. Shut up.”

Ran taps his lip thoughtfully, “So what do we do with her?” The question isn’t directed at Kokonoi; it’s directed at the room.

Rindou shrugs. “Keep her where she is. She’s harmless.”

Sanzu scoffs. “No one with that ego is harmless. Move her. Give her responsibility.”

Ran smiles. “I want to see what she does when we stop underestimating her.”

Kokonoi exhales slowly, eyes narrowing and calculating.“Or she could be reassigned to someone with the authority to manage her.”

Sanzu’s grin widens. “Oh? You volunteering?” Kokonoi doesn’t answer. The tension sharpens, threading between them like wire. They’re not just deciding your fate - they’re negotiating over you. You open your mouth, unsure whether to speak or stay silent. Before you can choose, Rindou cuts in.

“This is pointless. If he’s interested, he’ll decide. We’re wasting time.” The room goes dead still. Sanzu slumps back into his seat, suddenly bored.

After a few seconds of silence, Kokonoi announces, “Meeting dismissed. She will remain under observation.”

The asshole you punches is about to opens his mouth to complain about the fact that you’re let off so easily. That is until Sanzu notices out of the corner of his eye, and looks at him, slightly tilting his head. He offers him a gruesome smile, almost like telling him ‘if you speak I’ll slice open your stomach and play with your organs.’ He picks this up, and immediately lowers his head.

“Go back to reception, we will call you if need be,” Kokonoi continues.

You say nothing, stand up, offer a quick bow, and you shoot out of that meeting room like a bullet. As you walk out, you can feel their eyes lingering on your frame and you internally shiver.

You close the door quietly behind you and rest against it, immediately falling down to the ground and letting out a huge sigh of relief. You can finally breathe again.

Something catches your attention out of the corner of your eyes. It causes you to sharply turn your head, still alert due to the fuckass meeting you just had. It’s the strange man from earlier. You tilt your head, “You again.”

Before he has the chance to respond, you continue your sentence, “you’re like a fucking ghost.” You break eye contact and gently throw your head back against the door, where they’re still busy inside. He doesn’t seem to be offended. In fact, he ignores your statement entirely.

“You get kicked out?”

A small giggle of relief leaves your lips, “Not yet, thank fuck.”

He says nothing. He just stares - observes. You wonder who the fuck this man is. Why is he so curious? Why is he like a literal ghost? Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “Who are you?”

“Who do you think I am?”

You slowly push yourself up from where you were sitting, “I don’t know, maybe an assistant?” He offer no expression, except for raising an eye brow. He’s not offended; he finds it interesting that you think he’s an assistant. Little did you know that you were in for the shock of your life.

“Hm,” he responds once again, deep in thought about what you said.

“Well,” you interrupt his train of thought, “are you?”

You’re now standing up again, and feeling a bit more relaxed in this random man’s calming presence.

“No.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion - you thought you were good at reading people. “Then who are you?”

Before he could answer the door swings open. Sanzu and the Haitani brothers walk out, and before they shut the door, you catch a glimpse on what’s happening inside the meeting room. The guy you punched, drenched in blood, breathing slowly as if struggling, Kokonoi sitting opposite him. You look away, and you’re remind that you work for a criminal organisation, crawling with cold hearted killers.

“Why aren’t you at the front desk?” Rindou asks sharply. You open your mouth but before you can reply, Ran interrupts you, “disobeying another order? Interesting.” He smirks.

Sanzu cackles at Ran’s statement, and it makes you nervous. Their presence makes you nervous. He catches of the still unknown man standing calmly as ever in the hallway.

“She’s an interesting one, isn’t she boss?”

Boss.

Your blood runs cold. All colour drains from your face and your mouth hangs open in shock.

Before anyone can say anything you bow, “I - Excuse me. I have to get back to work.” You turn your back and quickly walk down the hallway towards the elevator. Thank fuck it opens before you have to press the button and wait. A man in a suit walks out and spots the men in the corridor. He completely ignores you, “Mikey. Good to see you. Let’s get straight down to business shall we?”

Mikey. It’s been confirmed. You were chit chatting with the leader of Bonten. You called him an assistant. You shake your head in embarrassment before entering the elevator.

Once inside, you turn around and press the ‘ground floor’ button. Before the elevator doors close, you make eye contact with someone. With him. The literal boss of Bonten. His cold, empty eyes stare at you and don’t look away until the doors have closed completely.

Summary: Your first anniversary with Bonten was supposed to be perfect — a private restaurant, good food, and all of them by your side.

Instead… things didn’t go as planned.

But you’ve never been the type to let a night go to waste. And when they finally catch up to you, they’re more than ready to make it up in their own way.

Words: 7047

The city lights glittered across the windshield, fractured through raindrops clinging to the glass like tiny constellations. You sat in the back of the sleek black car, one leg crossed over the other, hand resting gently over your knee — a perfect portrait of poise.

You had dressed carefully tonight. Not extravagantly — just enough to make them pause. To make them look. The silk of your dress skimmed your skin like water, and the soft shimmer of your perfume still lingered in the air like a secret.

7:02 p.m.

You glanced at your phone again. No new messages.

That was fine. They were busy men — your men — and you’d long since accepted that dinner plans had to contend with the blood-soaked reality of Bonten business. Still, they had been the ones to insist on this. An anniversary dinner. No phones. No interruptions. Just you, and them, and candlelight.

You smiled faintly, adjusting the bracelet at your wrist — a gift from Kakucho, one he’d handed you wordlessly before a meeting weeks ago. Ran had teased him mercilessly for it, but the pink in Kakucho’s ears had been worth it.

Outside, the restaurant’s grand entrance loomed just ahead. The entire place was shut down for the night — Bonten’s power made that sort of thing easy. Private. Exclusive.

Intimate.

Your driver rounded the car and opened your door, umbrella in hand.

You stepped out into the drizzle, heels clicking against the pavement. The maître d’ greeted you with a practiced smile and a polite bow.

“Welcome, ma’am. Right this way. The table is ready.”

So was your heart.

___________________________________________________________________________

You followed the staff slowly into the restaurant, heels tapping softly against the marble floor. Before stepping fully inside, you cast one last glance at the grey sky above — heavy with rain that didn’t seem like it would let up any time soon. Still, nothing could ruin your mood tonight.

A soft smile curved your lips as you finally entered the grand dining room. The dress you wore hugged you perfectly, its fabric catching the gentle shimmer of the chandelier overhead. As you stepped further in, a staff member approached and respectfully took the umbrella from your hand with practiced care.

“This way, ma’am,” a young-looking hostess said with a polite smile, motioning toward the reserved table — the one where you were supposed to be celebrating your first anniversary with your men.

Or so you thought.

Still smiling, you settled into one of the luxurious velvet chairs and let your gaze wander around the space. To your left was a stunning bar, lined with bottles of rare and expensive alcohol, each glinting like jewels under the soft lighting. To your right, floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a spacious outdoor seating area — elegant, inviting, and entirely empty. The rain still fell, delicate and steady, tracing silver trails down the glass.

You let out a slow, audible breath, eyes dropping to the beautifully arranged place setting in front of you. The silverware gleamed under the soft lighting, the folded napkin perfectly creased, untouched.

You still hoped they’d arrive soon.

And so—you waited.

___________________________________________________________________________

You checked the time again. 7:18 p.m.

Still nothing.

Your phone sat quietly on the white linen tablecloth, screen black, mocking you with its silence. You resisted the urge to tap it. To refresh the group chat. To call one of them.

They were coming.

You knew how things worked in their world — emergencies, sudden changes, late meetings that went bloody. It wouldn’t be the first time a dinner had been postponed for... messier priorities.

Still, your eyes flicked instinctively toward the entrance. Every time the door shifted or someone passed by the lobby, your head turned just a little too quickly. Each time, you reminded yourself to keep your expression neutral. Graceful. Unbothered.

You waited.

7:31 p.m.

With a quiet breath, you picked up your phone and finally called. Just one of them — Ran. He was usually the most reliable with plans like this. The phone rang… and rang… then went to voicemail.

You tried another. Sanzu. Straight to voicemail.

You stared down at your screen, thumb hovering, debating whether to try Mikey — but something about the silence already felt like his answer.

When you looked up again, the young hostess from earlier was glancing your way, trying not to seem obvious. She approached with careful politeness, hands folded neatly in front of her.

“If you’d like, ma’am,” she said gently, “we can bring you something to drink while you wait. Anything from the bar. On the house, of course.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard — then smiled softly, with far more elegance than you felt.

“Yes,” you said, voice calm. “A glass of the house white, please.”

She nodded and retreated quickly, perhaps a little too aware of who you were here to meet. Who hadn’t shown up.

You folded your hands in your lap and straightened your posture, eyes drifting once again to the door.

They were coming.

They had to be.

__________________________________________________________________________

The wine arrived in a crystal glass, chilled just enough to fog the stem. You thanked the waitress with a small nod, lips brushing the rim as you took your first sip. It was good — smooth, clean, just the right edge of dry — but it did little to soothe the unease blooming quietly in your chest.

7:46 p.m.

You checked your phone again.

Still nothing.

You told yourself not to overthink it. They were always unpredictable, and you’d accepted that long ago. Loving Bonten meant understanding that time didn’t always belong to you.

But tonight was supposed to be different. They had made the plans. They had insisted.

You tried to picture them: Rindou, grumbling while tying his tie. Ran, probably fixing his hair longer than necessary. Sanzu showing up already tipsy but charming, trying to feed you dessert off his fork. Mikey watching you across the table, saying little but meaning everything in the silence.

You glanced toward the door again.

Nothing.

The restaurant was too quiet. With the entire space reserved for your party, there were no other voices, no clinking plates or low chatter to fill the air. Just the soft background music and the faint hum of the rain tapping against the glass windows.

The staff kept themselves busy, but you could feel their polite glances — not pitying, not yet. Just curious. Maybe even a little tense.

You didn’t blame them. Bonten was not the kind of company you casually disappointed. But they weren’t here, were they?

You tapped the edge of your wine glass once. Then again. A slow, soft rhythm to keep your fingers occupied.

8:03 p.m.

No messages. No missed calls. Just that persistent, uncomfortable quiet.

You shifted slightly in your seat and reached for your phone once more. This time, you tried Kakucho.

Straight to voicemail.

You set the phone down gently, carefully, as if handling something fragile — like if you were too abrupt, it would all shatter.

Maybe it already had.

___________________________________________________________________________

You exhaled slowly, lips pressed into a thin, neutral line as you stared at your untouched menu. The silence had grown heavier — not painful, but expectant. Like the moment before a storm breaks or a curtain lifts.

And yet… nothing came.

No footsteps. No apologetic messages. No excuses.

You let your hand rest on your wine glass, letting your fingers feel the cool condensation, anchoring yourself to the present.

This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go.

But if there was one thing Bonten had taught you, it was that expecting the world to move how you wanted would only leave you disappointed. They were chaos wrapped in silk — all sharp edges and soft promises — and you’d loved them anyway.

You still did.

But you wouldn’t sit here and wilt.

With a soft, deliberate inhale, you straightened in your seat and lifted your chin, casting a warm smile toward the hostess, who had been pretending not to sneak glances at you for the last half hour.

“Would it be alright,” you asked gently, “if I ordered dinner anyway? Seems a shame to waste such a beautiful evening.”

Her eyes widened, just a little, then she nodded quickly. “Of course, ma’am. Anything you’d like.”

“Good,” you said with a quiet hum, eyes drifting down to the menu. “Then I’ll start with the truffle gnocchi, the saffron scallops, and the aged steak — medium rare. Oh, and...” You paused. “Would the kitchen staff like to eat? I’m sure they were expecting more company than just me.”

The hostess blinked, caught off guard by your poise — or perhaps your kindness.

“I… I’ll ask the chef.”

You offered a small smile. “Please do. No reason we can’t enjoy it.”

And just like that, the night began to bend toward you.

You sent the message in the group chat without thinking too hard — a photo of your wine glass held aloft, soft candlelight glowing across your cheekbone, the shimmer of your dress catching in the low light.

“Thank you for the private dinner. It’s been lovely. 🥂 Happy anniversary, by the way.”

You hit send, then set your phone down. Face down.

Let them carry the silence now.

___________________________________________________________________________

The chef came out personally, wiping his hands on a crisp towel as he approached your table. He was middle-aged, face flushed from the heat of the kitchen, and wore the kind of tired expression that softened easily into a smile when surprised.

“I heard you extended an invitation,” he said, voice warm and a little unsure.

You smiled. “Yes. I imagine the kitchen prepared more than just one portion tonight.”

He gave a quiet chuckle and nodded. “Enough to feed six men who eat like wolves, yes.”

“Then I’d be honored if you and your staff joined me. No one should cook this well and not enjoy it.”

He hesitated — not out of offense, but respect. You could see it in the way he looked at you, trying to place how someone so elegant, so composed, could sit alone in a restaurant Bonten had cleared out for the evening.

But he didn’t ask questions.

“Give us ten minutes,” he said, inclining his head. “We’ll bring the food out and join you once the plates are set.”

You nodded gratefully, watching as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Something inside you eased. Not completely — the ache was still there, tucked neatly beneath the surface — but your smile wasn’t forced anymore. The tension in your shoulders melted slightly as you took another sip of wine and let the atmosphere shift.

The music played gently in the background. The rain had softened, more of a whisper than a tap now. Candlelight flickered against the silverware, casting soft reflections onto the glass table.

Ten minutes later, three members of the staff — two line cooks and the pastry chef — joined you at the long table, clearly unsure of the etiquette but trying their best not to gawk.

You welcomed them with warmth. Talked. Laughed. Shared food.

You didn’t talk about Bonten. You didn’t mention the empty seats around you.

Instead, you asked about their favorite dishes, told stories about ridiculous wine tastings Ran had dragged you to, and laughed when one of the cooks admitted he didn’t even like fine dining.

“I just like fire,” he shrugged, grinning.

“Respectable,” you replied, clinking your glass to his water.

The evening, for all it had lacked, had become something else — imperfect, unplanned, but yours. You weren’t the woman left waiting anymore.

You were the one who turned silence into celebration.

___________________________________________________________________________

The table wasn’t just full of food anymore — it was full of life.

Laughter bubbled easily from your chest as one of the line cooks, Hiro, dramatically reenacted a kitchen disaster involving a flambé, a metal tray, and an unfortunately placed fire alarm. The pastry chef, Mina, covered her face with both hands while wheezing with laughter, muttering, “I told you not to use that much brandy.”

“I measured!” Hiro argued, grinning. “I used… heart.”

“You used half the bottle.”

You sipped your wine, eyes glinting with amusement. “That explains why the profiteroles taste like a bar fight.”

That set them off again.

By now, your shoes were off beneath the table. Your clutch sat forgotten beside your empty plate, and the rain outside had settled into a comforting rhythm — background music to a night that had no script but all the warmth you hadn’t expected.

The staff had relaxed, too. No more stiff posture or nervous glances. It was just you and them — people, laughing, sharing food, talking like old friends instead of strangers.

Mina leaned toward you at one point, voice lower, a little conspiratorial. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but… I was terrified when I saw your name on the reservation.”

You raised a brow, amused. “Oh?”

“Well, you know,” she said sheepishly. “Bonten’s girl. That kind of reputation doesn’t usually come with manners and charm.”

You smiled, not offended in the slightest. “That reputation comes with too many guns and not enough dinners like this.”

She grinned. “Well, it’s been a pleasure having you. Honestly.”

The main dishes had been cleared by then, replaced with espresso, petits fours, and something decadent involving chocolate and gold leaf. You took a bite, let it melt on your tongue, and hummed in approval.

And then Hiro pulled out his phone.

“Okay, I know this is unprofessional,” he said, “but this night is legendary. And you’re cool as hell. Can we take a picture with you? Just one.”

You blinked, surprised — then slowly nodded. “Only if you promise not to send it to them.”

Everyone laughed.

They arranged the photo like kids at a school trip — you at the center, Mina hugging you from one side, Hiro giving a peace sign, and the others gathering behind you with wide smiles and flushed cheeks. Someone timed it perfectly, and the shutter clicked.

You checked the photo afterward, holding the phone in your hand.

You looked genuinely happy. Maybe not the way you’d planned — not glowing under candlelight between six dangerous men who forgot — but surrounded by warmth all the same.

You sent a copy of the photo to yourself.

Then, because you couldn’t help yourself, you sent a second picture to the group chat.

This time, it was you, smiling brightly with the restaurant staff, holding up a tiny dessert spoon like a toast.

“Since you couldn’t make it, I found new dinner company. They say hello.”

No anger. No bitterness. Just grace with a sharp edge — the kind they’d feel the moment they read it.

___________________________________________________________________________

The meeting room smelled like tension and antiseptic.

It had run longer than expected — negotiations stretched to the brink, blood was spilled (not theirs), and the outcome, while favorable, had drained everyone in the room. The kind of deal that required absolute silence, all phones off, all distractions shut out.

Mikey was the first to stand. He didn’t speak — just grabbed his coat and walked toward the door with his usual quiet finality. The rest followed one by one, adrenaline fading into exhaustion.

The hallway outside was dimly lit, quiet except for the distant hum of night traffic and a light rain tapping against the windows. Sanzu cracked his neck, sighing.

“Finally,” he muttered, fishing into his pocket for his phone. “Gonna need at least three drinks after that.”

Ran was already checking his own, smirking as if expecting a dozen flirtatious texts — but his face slowly dropped, the light in his eyes shifting from amused to… confused.

Kokonoi, who had been silent until now, pulled out his phone as well, brows furrowing as notifications flooded in.

“What the hell—?” Ran said.

Rindou’s screen lit up next, followed quickly by a string of missed messages.

Then they all saw it.

First: [Image: A wine glass, soft lighting, her dress shimmering.] "Thank you for the private dinner. It’s been lovely. 🥂 Happy anniversary, by the way."

Second: [Image: Her laughing, surrounded by restaurant staff, dessert in hand.] "Since you couldn’t make it, I found new dinner company. They say hello. 😊"

Silence.

Mikey stopped mid-step.

Kokonoi slowly lowered his phone, eyes unreadable. Sanzu was staring at the photo with something twisted in his throat — not jealousy, not rage, just a dawning sense of oh, shit.

Ran dragged a hand down his face. “No… fuck, no—”

“She waited,” Rindou muttered, voice low. “She actually waited.”

“She didn’t even get mad,” Sanzu said, almost to himself. “She sent a smiley face. That’s worse than yelling.”

“She wore the damn dress,” Kakucho added, voice tight. “The one we got her.”

Mikey hadn’t said a word. He stared at the first image — her alone at the table, looking radiant under soft candlelight. Happy. Without them.

She hadn’t spammed their phones. Hadn’t called a dozen times.

She’d said nothing, and instead turned a night they had promised her into something beautiful without them.

And that cut deeper than any shouted argument ever could.

Ran broke the silence first. “We’re fixing this.”

“How?” Rindou said, already moving toward the elevator. “Reservations are gone. She’s probably home already.”

“She’s not going to sleep pissed off,” Sanzu growled, stuffing his phone in his pocket. “Not on our anniversary.”

Mikey finally spoke, his voice low and final.

“She won’t go to sleep alone either.”

___________________________________________________________________________

You stood, smoothing the fabric of your dress one last time as the staff gathered around your table with warm smiles. The unexpected company had become a strange kind of family for the evening — their laughter still ringing softly in your ears.

“Thank you all,” you said, voice steady but filled with gratitude. “You truly made this night special. It wasn’t what I expected, but it was perfect in its own way.”

The young hostess, cheeks flushed from the evening’s excitement, stepped forward. “We’re honored you chose to spend your anniversary here, even if it wasn’t with who you planned. I’ll make sure the review reflects that — five stars, no less.”

You chuckled softly, feeling a genuine warmth blossom in your chest. “You deserve every one.”

The chef approached, hands still dusted with flour, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Next time, we’ll prepare a meal that won’t be forgotten — and for all the right reasons.”

“I look forward to it,” you replied, nodding sincerely.

One of the servers handed you your umbrella with a small bow, a quiet gesture that didn’t go unnoticed.

Stepping outside, the night air was cool and crisp, the earlier rain having faded to a gentle drizzle. The city lights reflected on the wet pavement, twinkling like a thousand tiny stars.

Your car waited just beyond the restaurant’s entrance, a sleek silhouette against the streetlamps. You slid into the backseat, the leather cool beneath you.

The driver offered a polite nod but remained silent, respecting the peaceful stillness that had settled around you.

As the car pulled away, you looked back once more at the warmly lit restaurant, its windows glowing softly against the night.

The evening had taken an unexpected turn, but somehow, it had become a night you’d remember — not for disappointment, but for resilience, laughter, and kindness.

Your phone lay on your lap, screen dark and silent for the moment.

You allowed yourself a small smile, fingers resting lightly on the device.

Whatever came next, you felt ready.

___________________________________________________________________________

The car cruised through the quiet city streets, the gentle hum of the engine blending with the soft patter of leftover raindrops against the windows. Outside, the world blurred past in muted colors — streetlights casting golden halos in the night.

You leaned back into the seat, exhaustion and unexpected warmth mingling in your chest. The night had been nothing like you imagined, but the kindness of strangers had softened the sting.

Your phone lay untouched on your lap, the screen dark in the dim light.

Then, it buzzed.

One message.

Then another.

And another.

You glanced down, fingers instinctively reaching for the device as notifications piled up in rapid succession.

Ran’s frantic text was first to catch your eye: “We’re so sorry. We messed up bad. Please don’t be mad. We’re coming to you. Now.”

Before you could respond, Kokonoi’s appeared: “We fix this. We will.”

Mikey’s message followed, simple and heavy with meaning: “We’ll never let this happen again.”

Sanzu’s was next, tinged with guilt: “Not on our anniversary. Not like this.”

More messages flooded in — apologies, promises, desperate attempts to reach you by phone. You felt the weight of their regret seeping through the screen.

A slow smile curved your lips as you read, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

They were coming. They wanted to make this right.

The car rolled on, the city lights flickering past, but inside, your heart was already preparing for what was to come.

___________________________________________________________________________

The city lights passed by in a slow, rhythmic dance outside the car window, but inside, time seemed to stretch and fold in on itself.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, reading and rereading the flood of messages that poured in like a tidal wave — apologies stitched with sincerity, promises heavy with guilt, and the unmistakable desperation to make things right.

Part of you wanted to respond immediately, to tell them it was okay, that you weren’t really upset — but another part held back, wary of rushing forgiveness.

You wondered how it had all slipped through their fingers. The plans, the promises, the night you’d dreamed of sharing with them — all undone by one forgotten evening.

But then you thought of the restaurant staff, the laughter you’d shared, the way the unexpected had been turned into something beautiful. And you realized maybe this was a test of more than just their attention — it was a test of all of you.

Were they willing to fight for the moments they almost lost?

Your chest tightened as your phone buzzed again — this time a group chat notification, a string of new messages flooding in all at once.

A photo — blurry but unmistakable — of them, clustered together, nervous smiles on their faces, standing outside your building.

“We’re outside. Ready to make this right.”

You slipped your phone into your pocket, heart pounding with anticipation.

Whatever came next, you knew the night was far from over.

___________________________________________________________________________

The car slowed, pulling into the familiar driveway of your apartment. Outside, the night was quiet — but your heart was anything but.

As the door opened, you caught sight of several familiar figures waiting just beyond the doorstep. They stood clustered together, faces a mixture of nerves and hope, their eyes fixed on the entrance.

Mikey was the first to notice you, stepping forward with that calm yet intense gaze that always made your heart skip. “You’re here,” he said simply, voice low but full of meaning.

Sanzu cracked a small, guilty smile. “We thought we’d lost you tonight.”

Ran’s usual cocky smirk softened. “We’re sorry. We fucked up.”

Kokonoi stood slightly apart, arms crossed but eyes sharp, watching you carefully. When your gaze met his, there was an unspoken apology there — deep and sincere.

Rindou shifted his weight, stepping forward, his voice gruff but earnest. “We can’t let this slide. Not after tonight.”

Kakucho’s quiet presence added weight to the moment, his usual smirk replaced by a rare softness. “We’re here. All of us. For you.”

You stepped out of the car, the cool air wrapping around you as the weight of the evening settled.

For a moment, none of you spoke.

Then Mikey finally broke the silence. “Let’s make this right. Tonight’s not over.”

You met their eyes, feeling the mix of regret and hope radiating from them.

And despite everything, you smiled.

“It better be,” you said.

_________________________________________________________________________

The door closed softly behind you, sealing out the cool night air and the weight of the evening so far.

Inside, the apartment felt warm and familiar — a small sanctuary from the chaos outside.

Mikey pulled off his jacket, tossing it onto the couch with a tired sigh. “So… what do you want to do now? I’m guessing dinner is off the table.”

You smiled, the corners of your mouth tugging up despite everything. “I’m not picky. Just having you all here is enough.”

Ran plopped down beside you, stretching his legs out. “Alright, then. Time for some serious hangout vibes.”

Sanzu grinned, pulling out his phone. “Group photo? To commemorate the night we almost killed our anniversary but somehow survived?”

Kokonoi raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. “If it helps make things right.”

Rindou and Kakucho exchanged a quick glance before nodding in agreement.

You scooted closer, letting the warmth of the group seep in, laughter bubbling up as Ran attempted a ridiculous pose for the camera, and Mikey rolled his eyes but smiled.

The flash went off, freezing the moment — imperfect, messy, but real.

As the night wore on, the earlier tension melted away, replaced by quiet jokes, stories from the past, and the comfort of being surrounded by those who cared, even when things went wrong.

And in that space, you found something more than an apology — you found home.

___________________________________________________________________________

The plush cushions of your big couch welcomed you like a soft embrace as you sank into them, the tension of the evening gradually melting away. Mikey slid closer, his arm naturally wrapping around your shoulders, drawing you into his warmth. You leaned in, feeling the familiar steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a quiet reassurance in the midst of everything.

Sanzu and Ran pressed in on the other side, their presence both comforting and playful. Ran nudged your side gently with a grin. “So, how was the food, really? Did the restaurant at least do a decent job to make up for the whole no-show disaster?”

You smiled tiredly, eyes drifting to the muted glow of the city outside your window before settling back on the group. “It was… surprisingly good. The staff treated me so well, and the food was excellent. But still, it wasn’t the night I imagined.”

Sanzu, always the quieter one, shifted and pulled something from the inside pocket of his jacket — a small, elegantly wrapped box. He set it gently in your lap. “We know tonight went wrong, and we want to do more than just apologize. This is a small token — something to carry with you, and a promise that better days are coming.”

Your fingers trembled slightly as you untied the delicate ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside, resting on a bed of soft velvet, was a simple silver necklace. The pendant was a tiny wing, exquisitely crafted — subtle, meaningful, and beautiful in its understated elegance.

Mikey’s voice was low and warm beside you. “And that’s not all. We’ve been talking about it — about how much you deserve to be spoiled and taken care of. So we want to take you away. Somewhere quiet, just us, no distractions. A vacation to make up for all this.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought — a chance to escape, to breathe, to make new memories with them. You looked up into Mikey’s eyes and found sincerity and hope shining there.

Ran grinned widely, the usual bravado softened. “No more forgotten anniversaries, no more screw-ups. Just good times and all of us together.”

You let out a soft, tired laugh, exhaustion finally catching up with you. Your eyelids grew heavy, the comfort of the room and their closeness pulling you toward sleep.

Mikey tightened his hold gently. “You look sleepy.”

“Yeah,” Ran added quietly, “You’ve been strong all night. You deserve rest.”

You sighed softly, resting your head against Mikey’s chest, your breathing slowing to match his steady rhythm. The hum of the city outside faded into the background, replaced by the warmth and quiet murmurs of the men who cared for you deeply.

The silver wing necklace rested lightly against your skin, a promise and a reminder — no matter the bumps, they were here. And for the first time that night, you let go completely, drifting into peaceful sleep cradled by those who loved you.

_________________________________________________________________________

The first thing you noticed was the weight in your limbs. Not the pleasant heaviness of a good night’s sleep, but the dragging, aching kind that made even opening your eyes feel like an effort.

Your head throbbed faintly in time with your heartbeat, and your throat burned with each swallow. Somewhere outside the bedroom, you could hear faint voices — the low rumble of men speaking in hushed tones, a door clicking shut, the faint clink of something ceramic on the counter.

When you tried to sit up, the world tilted, and you sank back against the pillows with a quiet groan.

The sound must’ve carried, because footsteps approached, quick and unhesitating. The door creaked open, and Mikey’s pale face peeked in, his eyes narrowing the moment he saw you.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, stepping inside. “You don’t look so great.”

You gave a small, humorless laugh. “Thanks for the honesty.”

Sanzu appeared behind him, leaning lazily against the doorframe but with an unmistakable edge of worry in his eyes. “Guess yesterday caught up to you. Standing in the rain like that… you really should take better care of yourself.”

You turned your head toward him, your voice scratchy but laced with mock indignation. “If you’d been there, I wouldn’t have needed to. I could’ve just stolen a coat off one of you — like I’m supposed to.”

That drew Ran in, already grinning. “She’s not wrong,” he said, crossing the room to drop onto the edge of the bed. “But still… catching a cold on your anniversary? Not exactly the romantic vibe.”

Kokonoi slipped in quietly, balancing a mug that sent thin curls of steam into the air. “Chamomile. Drink slowly.” His tone was matter-of-fact, but you caught the way he lingered a second longer, watching to make sure you took it.

Rindou poked his head in behind him. “So… vacation’s postponed, huh?”

Kakucho’s voice came from the hall. “Not postponed. We’ll just start it here. Keep her warm, keep her fed, and we’ll be fine.”

Mikey sat down beside you, close enough that you felt the faint warmth radiating from him. “Deal is, you rest. No more rain-soaked stunts. We’ll handle everything else.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the heat from the tea seep into your hands. Their voices faded into a comfortable background hum — teasing, planning, fussing. Despite the ache in your body, you felt something lighter than the night before.

They didn’t leave after that.

You’d half-expected them to — Bonten wasn’t exactly the type to loiter around bedrooms in the middle of the day — but instead, they seemed to migrate inside, one by one, like they had no other place they’d rather be.

Sanzu claimed the armchair near the window, boots kicked off, leaning back with that lazy smirk that couldn’t quite mask the fact he was watching you. Ran sprawled on the other side of the bed, legs dangling off, idly scrolling through his phone while tossing in the occasional comment about “nurse duties.”

Kokonoi set your tea on the nightstand, then returned a moment later with another blanket — a ridiculously soft one that you recognized from the living room — and tucked it around you with a meticulousness that made you smile. “Keep warm,” was all he said, but his tone left no room for argument.

Rindou came in carrying a tray, balanced with more precision than you’d thought he was capable of: a bowl of sliced fruit, a bottle of water, and, bizarrely, a small stack of cookies. “Doctor’s orders,” he said when you raised an eyebrow. “Alright, maybe not a doctor. But me.”

Kakucho followed, setting down a box of tissues within reach and giving you one of his rare, faint smiles. “You sneeze once without a tissue, and I’ll make sure Ran’s the one cleaning it up.”

That got a groan from Ran and a quiet chuckle from you.

Mikey didn’t say much. He just settled himself against the headboard, close enough that you could lean into him if you wanted. And you did — resting your head against his shoulder, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing calm the restless ache inside you.

For a while, the room was filled with the soft hum of their voices. They talked over each other, argued playfully about the best beaches versus the best cities, and even pulled up travel sites on their phones. Somewhere in between, Sanzu muttered that he’d make sure the next coat you wore was “thief-proof” just so you couldn’t steal theirs. You fired back that you’d take it anyway.

They laughed, and you realized your chest didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

When the tea was gone and the blankets were warm and you’d stopped shivering, your eyes began to drift shut. Someone — you weren’t sure who — reached over and brushed a stray hair from your face.

“Sleep,” Mikey murmured. “We’ll be here.”

And you did — with the low murmur of their voices and the quiet certainty that, for once, they weren’t going anywhere.

___________________________________________________________________________

You woke to the faint scent of something savory wafting in from the kitchen. For a moment, you weren’t sure where you were — the sunlight had shifted, turning the room golden, and the weight of blankets around you made it feel like you were still dreaming.

Then you heard Ran’s voice.

“No, no, no — that’s too much salt, Rindou!”

“Shut up, I know what I’m doing!”

You smiled faintly and pushed yourself up, groggy but curious. The blanket slid off your shoulders, and you padded toward the noise, only to stop at the doorway.

Your living room had been… transformed.

The coffee table had been pushed aside to make room for a ridiculous pile of pillows and blankets. Someone had strung up soft, warm fairy lights along the curtain rod, and a playlist of low, jazzy music was playing from a speaker in the corner.

Kokonoi was at the counter, slicing bread with the precision of a jeweler. Sanzu was leaning over the couch, arranging plates like it was a high-end restaurant. Mikey sat cross-legged on the floor with a travel magazine, circling destinations in thick black marker as if booking a flight was just a matter of will.

And in the kitchen… Ran and Rindou were fighting over a pot of pasta sauce like it was a matter of life or death.

Kakucho noticed you first. “You’re awake.” His voice was calm, but there was a faint lift at the corner of his mouth. “Perfect timing. We’re doing an at-home vacation.”

Ran turned, grinning, a wooden spoon in hand. “See? Told you you’d feel better if we brought the beach to you. Minus the actual beach.”

“You guys…” Your voice came out soft, and you weren’t sure if it was the cold or the sudden wave of warmth you felt.

Mikey looked up from his magazine. “We meant what we said. No rain-soaked anniversaries. Today, you get blankets, food, and whatever trip you want to plan.”

Kokonoi set down the bread and added casually, “Also, we may have pre-booked a few options for when you’re better.”

Rindou, without turning around, muttered, “And I’m making dinner, so you know it’s gonna be good.”

Ran snorted. “Or edible. If we’re lucky.”

You laughed, shaking your head, and let yourself sink into the mountain of pillows. Sanzu brought you a drink without asking, and Kakucho placed a plate in front of you the moment the pasta was ready.

Somewhere between the teasing, the music, and Mikey pointing out flights to the Maldives, you realized… this might not have been the anniversary you’d planned — but it was one you’d remember.

___________________________________________________________________________

The living room had gone quiet except for the low hum of the playlist still running in the background. The fairy lights had dimmed, leaving the room bathed in a warm, amber glow. Most of the plates and glasses had been abandoned on the counter, half-forgotten in favor of the growing sprawl of bodies tangled among the pillows and blankets.

You were curled on your side, head pillowed against Mikey’s arm, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you. Sanzu was stretched out beside the couch, eyes half-lidded, idly twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. Ran had claimed the far end of the couch, one leg dangling off as he scrolled aimlessly on his phone.

Kokonoi sat cross-legged near the edge of the fort, his voice quiet as he discussed vacation itineraries with Kakucho, who was lying on his back staring at the ceiling like he was already imagining the sun on his face. Rindou was half-asleep, head tipped back against a cushion, a blanket draped loosely over his shoulders.

“Y’know,” Ran said suddenly, his voice lazy but thoughtful, “this isn’t the worst way to spend an anniversary.”

You smiled faintly. “Glad you’re enjoying my sick day.”

Mikey’s voice was low, close to your ear. “We’re enjoying being here. With you.”

Sanzu hummed in agreement. “Rain or no rain… missed dinners or not… you’re stuck with us. Always.”

You felt a quiet warmth bloom in your chest, the kind that had nothing to do with the fever. The teasing from earlier had faded, replaced with something softer, more unspoken.

Someone — you thought it might have been Kakucho — murmured, “Next year, we’ll do it right. But… I don’t hate this one.”

You let your eyes fall shut, the gentle murmur of their voices washing over you. The warmth of Mikey’s arm, the soft scratch of Sanzu’s fingers in your hair, the faint sound of Ran laughing at something Rindou mumbled in his half-asleep state — it all blurred together into a cocoon of comfort.

When sleep finally pulled you under, the last thing you felt was the weight of a blanket being tucked tighter around you, and the quiet certainty that they meant every word.

___________________________________________________________________________

The next morning, you woke to the sound of voices drifting in from the kitchen. You sat up slowly, still wrapped in one of the blankets from the night before, and padded toward the doorway.

They hadn’t noticed you yet.

Kokonoi was sitting at the table with his laptop open, scrolling through what looked like an endless list of luxury resorts. “If we’re doing this right, we should pick somewhere with both privacy and top-tier amenities. I’m thinking a villa in Bora Bora. Private chef, ocean view, minimal chance of paparazzi.”

Ran leaned over the back of his chair. “Bora Bora’s nice, but what about Greece? She’d look gorgeous against those white-and-blue rooftops. And the food—”

“Not happening.” Rindou cut in from the counter, sipping coffee. “It’s too touristy in summer. She’ll end up stuck in crowds, and she hates that.”

Sanzu, who was half-lounging against the fridge, grinned. “Why not stay in Japan? Rent out a whole ryokan, private onsen baths, actual peace and quiet. Plus, I can keep an eye on her so she doesn’t go swimming in the rain again.”

You smirked, leaning on the doorframe. “You guys do realize I can hear you, right?”

All heads turned toward you.

Mikey, who’d been unusually quiet until now, lifted a travel magazine and tapped a page. “I already picked something.” He held it up so you could see: a quiet stretch of Maldives coastline, turquoise water and white sand. “It’s booked. Two weeks. The rest of them can argue about where we go after.”

Ran groaned. “Of course he went first.”

Kokonoi sighed, closing his laptop. “At least it’s a solid choice.”

You crossed the room, the blanket still draped around your shoulders, and looked at the page. “Maldives, huh?”

Mikey gave a small, knowing smile. “Sun. Ocean. No rain. And if it does rain… we’ll be there this time.”

Something warm settled in your chest as you set the magazine down and let them pull you into the middle of their ridiculous travel-planning chaos. For once, you didn’t mind the noise.

___________________________________________________________________________

The Maldives were exactly as the pictures promised — turquoise water stretching endlessly in every direction, the faint scent of salt carried by a warm breeze, and sunlight so golden it made everything feel like it had been painted just for you.

You sat on the edge of the villa’s private deck, bare feet skimming the surface of the water. The soft splash of waves against the stilts was the only sound until footsteps padded up behind you.

“Shouldn’t be out here without sunscreen,” Ran’s voice teased, but the towel he draped over your shoulders was warm from the sun.

Before you could reply, Mikey lowered himself beside you, handing you a chilled drink. “No rain,” he murmured, like it was the only thing that mattered.

Sanzu, Kokonoi, and Kakucho were stretched out on loungers a little further back, trading lazy conversation about what to do later. Rindou was in the water already, pretending to snorkel but mostly just splashing to see if he could get Ran wet.

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth sink into your skin, the towel soft against your shoulders, the drink cool in your hand. This was nothing like that anniversary night — no empty table, no drizzle seeping into your clothes.

Sanzu wandered over and crouched next to you, smirking. “See? Told you I could keep you out of the rain.”

You gave him a look. “Only because there’s no rain to begin with.”

He laughed, straightening up. “Details.”

At some point, Mikey leaned back on his hands, his gaze steady on the horizon. “We’ll make this the start of a tradition,” he said simply. “Every year — somewhere new. And we’ll actually show up.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the kind that starts in your chest before it reaches your lips. “Deal.”

Ran plopped down on your other side, hair damp from Rindou’s revenge splash, and bumped his shoulder against yours. “Good. Now get used to sunsets like this. You’re stuck with us for all of them.”

Sanzu Haruchiyo x Sick! Reader

Summary: Your pulse is slipping, no donor in sight, and Shibuya starts whispering about bodies found hollowed out. Because Sanzu Haruchiyo has already decided Shibuya can bleed if it keeps you alive.

Warnings: Murder, Sick Reader (hospitalization, surgery), Organ harvesting.

Here is my Masterlist!!

—————————————————————————

The hospital room always felt too quiet - until the door slammed open and he filled it completely, boots heavy against the floor, the faint clink of chains and the unmistakable white uniform of the Kanto Manji Gang dragging tension in with him like it belonged there.

Scene: Bonten men eating you out. 😼 Characters: Sanzu, Mikey, Ran, Rindou, Kakucho, Kokonoi, Takeomi. (Sorry, Mochi :<) Tags: Fem!reader! Smut! Oral (F. receiving)! Fingering! Dirty talk! Note: My first time posting smut 😢 hope its good. Also, English isn't my first language. My bad for any mistakes but hope you guys enjoy 🍽 divider crdts: @/diviniyae (red diamonds divider), @/cafekitsune (mdni divider), @/omi-resources (red line divider)

Summary: You go to the same church every year on the same day. Not for God. Not for peace. But for memory. For him.

It's been years since Manjiro "Mikey" Sano walked out of your life — no explanations, no goodbye. Just silence. And still, without fail, you return to the place where everything between you once felt sacred.

This time, he shows up too.

Older. Colder. The weight of Bonten on his shoulders and regret in his eyes.

You don’t speak at first. You just punch him. And it’s only the beginning.

Words: 9667

The church was nearly silent, save for the soft patter of rain against the high stained-glass windows. The scent of old wood, candle wax, and something faintly floral—like lilies long since dried—lingered in the air.

You sat alone in the third pew, elbows resting on your knees, fingers loosely woven together. The light through the windows cast faint colors across your skin, like a fading memory brushing your shoulder.

And you hummed.

A lullaby. Slow. Gentle. Familiar.

It wasn’t from a songbook or a hymn—just a simple tune, quiet and private. Something from another life. His life. Your life. Before everything hardened. Before he left.

You didn’t cry anymore when you sang it. That part had been buried long ago, under too many seasons of silence. But the ache was still there. It always would be.

Every year, on this exact day, you came here. To this pew. This church. Same hour. No matter what.

At first, it was because of him. Because this was where you used to come together—once, when you were still kids, when he was still Mikey and not whatever Bonten had carved from his soul.

Now… you weren’t sure why you came anymore.

Maybe to prove you still remembered.

Maybe to see if he still did too.

You let the final note of the lullaby fade off your lips, lingering like smoke in the still air—and that’s when you felt it.

That presence.

Like a storm on the edge of your skin.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t need to.

You knew it was him.

Manjiro Sano.

Older now. Colder. Heavily burdened with sins neither of you had names for.

And yet somehow, still him.

He didn’t announce himself. He never did.

You heard no footsteps, but moments later, he was beside you—sitting slowly, quietly, like the weight of him might crack the pew beneath him.

He didn’t say anything.

Neither did you.

The silence between you felt sacred—not because it was peaceful, but because it was honest.

How long had it been since you’d last seen him?

Three years? Four?

Long enough that you sometimes questioned if the way he used to hold your hand had been real—or just a dream born from missing someone too hard.

You didn't look at him.

You were scared that if you did, you’d break the fragile stillness between you. Scared that he’d be everything you remembered—and nothing at all.

But when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"You still remember the song."

You swallowed, throat dry. Your eyes stayed fixed on the worn altar ahead.

"I remember everything."

There was a pause. A shift in the way he breathed.

You didn’t ask why he left. You already knew. You didn’t ask where he’d been. You could guess. You didn’t ask if he missed you.

Because his silence answered it all.

And still, you whispered, more to yourself than to him:

"You could’ve come back."

He didn’t answer at first.

Then: "I didn’t want you to see what I became."

The words fell between you like a confession. Heavy. Inevitable.

You turned to look at him.

And he looked… tired.

Not in the way someone looks after a long day. Tired in the way people look when they’ve been carrying something for too long and have nowhere to put it down.

His face had sharpened. His hair was shorter. A faint scar traced his jawline.

But his eyes—the sadness there was still the same.

Still Mikey.

You didn’t reach for him. You didn’t touch his hand.

But your voice broke just a little when you said:

"You didn’t become a stranger, Mikey. You became a ghost."

He looked away first.

Not because he didn’t want to face you—but because he didn’t think he deserved to.

And then, very quietly, like the crack of dawn on a long winter night, he said:

"I never stopped coming."

You nodded, a bitter, aching smile on your lips.

"I know."

___________________________________________________________________________

The silence stretched again between you and Mikey, heavy and close. Your fingers brushed against your own palm—itching with words you never got to say.

You looked straight ahead for a while, and then, quietly:

"Why did you leave me?"

Your voice cracked—not from weakness, but from restraint. Because there was too much behind that question. Because you'd screamed it into your pillow too many nights. Because you knew the answer, but you still needed to hear it from him.

Mikey didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch. Didn’t breathe, maybe.

He just stared at the altar like it was safer than your eyes.

"Because I loved you," he finally said. "And I couldn’t keep you safe. Not from what I became."

You exhaled sharply through your nose, standing before you started crying again. You couldn’t sit here anymore. Couldn’t look at him and remember how it felt when he used to be yours.

"That’s not love, Mikey. That’s cowardice."

You stepped out into the cold air, the church doors creaking shut behind you. The rain had slowed to a mist, silver on the pavement. The street was mostly empty—except for one figure leaning against a black car parked beneath a flickering streetlamp.

Sanzu.

Hair damp, cigarette forgotten between his fingers, dressed in Bonten black. He straightened a little when he saw you, then gave that rare, not-so-crazy smile. The one only a handful of people ever got.

"Hey," he said, voice surprisingly warm. "Didn’t think you’d show up again this year."

You smiled weakly. "Didn’t think he would either."

Sanzu nodded, looking off to the side, exhaling smoke into the air. "He always comes. Just never close enough to be seen."

You were about to answer when you heard the church doors open behind you.

Mikey.

He stepped out, hair damp from the humidity, eyes fixed only on you. You turned away, shaking your head. But he followed. Quiet. Careful.

"I don’t know what to say," he said. "But I know I hurt you. You can hit me. If it helps. Hit me until it’s out of you."

You blinked, then let out a bitter laugh.

"You think this is something I can punch out of my heart?"

He didn’t answer. "You really think one hit will fix what you broke?"

Still nothing.

"Fine."

And then, with all the years of rage, abandonment, betrayal, and shattered memories crashing through your veins—

you drove your fist straight into his face. Harder than you expected. Angrier.

His head turned slightly, but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. Just took it.

Took you. And you weren’t done. You hit him again. And again. Open-palmed once, screaming something unintelligible, your voice breaking like a wave on rock.

You shoved him hard in the chest. Hit his shoulder. Slapped him once, fists trembling.

"I waited for you!" "I thought you were dead!" "I begged the universe to bring you back!"

And finally—

"You don’t get to look at me like that—like you still love me!"

Tears streamed down your face, hot and angry and loud. Mikey just stood there.

Letting you break. Letting you release every ounce of fury and grief and love that he left in your ribs when he walked away.

And when your fists finally dropped and the sobs took over—when your knees buckled under the weight of everything you’d carried—

he caught you. No words. No promises. No lies.

Just arms. Just warmth.

Just the quiet, fragile beginning of something that had once been shattered. A silence more honest than anything he’d ever spoken.

___________________________________________________________________________

His arms were around you—tight, steady—but not possessive. Like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go, and equally afraid he didn’t deserve to hold on at all.

Your sobs shook against his chest. Wetting the front of his shirt. Breaking through years of silence in a way no words ever could.

"Where were you?" you choked, fists still curled against his coat. "Where the hell were you, Mikey?"

His voice came low, raw. "Everywhere I shouldn’t have been."

You pulled back slightly—not enough to leave, just enough to look at him. Your hands stayed pressed to his chest, trembling.

Your eyes were swollen, your voice hoarse.

"Do you want to fix this?" "Do you even want to try?"

For a second, you thought he might hesitate.

But then—

"Yes."

Not desperate. Not dramatic. Just honest. Simple. Real. Your lip quivered. Your heart screamed. You were still angry. Still bleeding.

And still in love. You let out a soft, bitter laugh that melted into a sob.

"I hate you so much for this," you whispered, hitting his chest once more—not to hurt, just to feel something solid beneath your hands.

And then, quieter:

"I missed you too."

He leaned his forehead gently against yours, breathing you in like he didn’t think he deserved to be this close. Like he didn’t believe you’d still let him be near.

"I missed you," he said, and it was the first thing he’d said all day that cracked him open.

Your eyes shut tight, lashes wet. You swallowed hard, nodding slowly.

"I know."

And for the first time in years, he didn’t feel like a ghost. Just a broken boy trying to come home.

___________________________________________________________________________

You didn’t move when he sat beside you.

The stone steps were damp with the fading mist. You curled your arms tighter around your knees, chin resting lightly on the fabric of your coat. You weren’t cold, but your body hadn’t stopped trembling.

Mikey sat a few inches away, his elbows resting loosely on his knees, hands clasped between them. He stared ahead—at the street, the fog, maybe nothing at all. That same neutral mask he always wore when he didn’t want to be read. You used to be able to see through it. Now it felt like looking into a locked room.

The silence between you stretched. It wasn’t peaceful. It was heavy, like the air right before thunder. You were the first to speak again.

Your voice barely rose above the air. “Did you ever try to reach out?” He didn’t look at you. Didn’t answer right away. But you waited.

Finally:

“A few times.”

That made your head snap toward him.

“What do you mean, a few times?” “When?” “Why didn’t you—”

He cut in gently. “I never got close.”

His eyes finally met yours. They weren’t red. They weren’t broken. Just… impossibly tired.

“I would watch from a distance. On this day. On your birthday once. I saw you walking home once with groceries.” He paused. “You looked… like you were doing okay.”

You scoffed. Laughed, almost, but there was no joy in it.

“You think buying groceries means I was fine without you?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t defend himself. Just said, “I didn’t know how to come back.”

Another silence. This one sharper.

Your hands curled tighter around your knees. You wanted to hit him again, and you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to scream. You wanted to rewind time. You wanted to be seventeen again, arms around him on the back of his bike, wind in your face, believing nothing could ever touch you.

But that version of you didn’t exist anymore. And neither did that version of him. You blinked away new tears and asked, more brokenly this time:

“Do you even want to try again?”

The question hung in the cold air. Fragile. Exposed.

Mikey turned his head slightly toward you, jaw working like he was chewing through something painful.

“Yes.”

Not dramatic. Not breathless.

Just the truth.

“But I don’t deserve to ask that of you.”

You turned toward him. Really looked at him this time. The way his posture hadn’t relaxed even now. The small, almost imperceptible twitch in his fingers—like he wanted to reach out but wouldn’t.

“You don’t.” Your voice was steady, if a little quiet. “But you didn’t come here today to run again, did you?”

His lips parted like he was going to answer—but he closed them again. And shook his head once.

You stared at him for a long time. The rage still sat in your chest, coiled and alive. But it was sharing space now—with the ache, the nostalgia, the part of you that still, impossibly, loved him.

Finally, you whispered:

“If we try again… I get to know everything. No more hiding. No more ‘protecting me’ by leaving me in the dark.”

His head bowed slightly. His voice was barely audible.

“Okay.”

You wiped your cheek with the back of your sleeve. The tears were slowing now. The ache wasn’t. But something had shifted.

You took a breath.

“And you don’t get to disappear again. Not for a day. Not for a minute.”

He nodded. Still no apology. Still no flinch. Just silent acceptance.

And that meant more than any pretty words could have. He looked at you again, and this time, there was something different in his face. A small softening behind his eyes. Not quite warmth—but something close. Something trying to grow in the ash.

“I missed you,” he said again, and this time his voice cracked—not with tears, but with restraint.

You exhaled shakily.

“I know.”

And this time, when he reached out, he didn’t touch your hand—just let his pinky rest beside yours. Not quite touching. Just waiting.

And you didn’t pull away.

___________________________________________________________________________

His pinky stayed beside yours, still not touching. Just hovering there — waiting, like he was asking without asking.

You stared at your hands. The space between your fingers. The way that almost-touch buzzed louder than anything he could’ve said.

And still, you didn’t pull away.

The silence stretched again, but it wasn’t suffocating this time. It was thick, sure, but filled with breath — shared, human, tentative.

You let your fingers tilt just slightly, letting his pinky brush against yours. A whisper of contact.

And he finally breathed out. Like he hadn’t let himself inhale since the moment he saw you again.

You leaned your head back against the cold stone wall behind the steps, letting your eyes close for a second. The night air wrapped around both of you. Still and heavy. Somewhere nearby, a streetlamp buzzed faintly, catching the edges of morning mist.

“You look older,” you said, not unkindly.

Mikey huffed a quiet laugh — the kind that didn’t reach his eyes but wasn’t empty either. “You don’t.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Maybe. But it’s a nice one.”

You cracked a small smile, just barely. It wasn’t forgiveness. But it was something.

You turned your head and opened your eyes again, looking at him in the half-light. He was still watching you. That guarded, unreadable Mikey expression—but softer now. A little less steel. A little more scar tissue.

“So what now?” you asked, voice low.

He hesitated.

“Now…” he said slowly, “I walk you home. And I try not to fuck it up this time.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Try?”

Another tiny twitch of a smirk at the edge of his mouth. “I’m rusty.”

You shook your head with a soft exhale, then stood. He followed, slower, like he expected you to change your mind. You didn’t. Out on the street, a black car was already idling at the curb. Sanzu was leaned up against the hood, lighting a cigarette like he had all the time in the world.

When he saw you both, he straightened slightly and gave you a slow, lazy grin.

“You ready, princess?”

“Don’t call me that,” you muttered, but without bite.

Mikey opened the back door for you. You got in without a word, and he slid in beside you. The car pulled away. You didn’t talk for most of the ride. You didn’t need to. The silence between you now wasn’t the kind that punished. It was tired, maybe, but not cruel. It held something else.

When Sanzu parked at the curb near your apartment building, you hesitated. You weren’t sure if you wanted to ask him to come up. You weren’t sure if he would ask to.

But Mikey just opened his door and said, “I’ll walk you to your door.”

And he did.

Step by step beside you. Quiet. You both reached your door, and it was just like before — like nothing and everything had changed.

You turned to him.

“You coming up?”

He shook his head.

“Not tonight.” Then added, softly, “But I will. If you want me to.”

You nodded, slowly.

And as you turned to open your door—

You stopped. It was cracked. Your heart jumped.

No. It was open. You hadn’t left it that way.

And before you could even say a word—

“Stay back,” Mikey said, instantly shifting. His hand went to the inside of his jacket.

His voice dropped, low and calm like a blade sliding out of its sheath. “Sanzu. Inside. Now.”

You didn’t even hear the car door shut behind you. But you knew this wasn’t over. Not yet. Not tonight.

___________________________________________________________________________

Mikey pushed the door open first.

The sound of it creaking fully open was too loud — too slow. He stepped in, one hand at the ready, the other motioning for you to stay behind him.

You knew better than to argue.

And then you saw it.

Your breath caught in your throat.

The apartment was torn apart.

Your couch cushions were slashed open. Drawers pulled and dumped. Glass shattered across the floor like glittering snow. Your bookshelf had been knocked over, pictures shattered. Kitchen cabinet doors left gaping. Someone had been here — more than one person, by the look of it. And they hadn’t been subtle.

Sanzu entered behind you, his usual smirk gone, replaced with something razor-sharp and focused. His eyes scanned the room with practiced precision.

“Whoever it was,” he muttered, “they weren’t looking for jewelry.”

Mikey didn’t answer. He stepped further in, silent. Controlled. You watched his eyes move—room to room—calculating, piecing together what this meant. Who would send a message like this. Why now.

You stood in the doorway, your hand gripping the frame so tightly your knuckles ached.

This wasn’t random. This was personal.

Your home — the only place that had still felt like yours — was in pieces.

“They waited until tonight,” Mikey said quietly. He wasn’t looking at you. He was speaking more to himself, as if confirming a suspicion. “They knew where. And when.”

“She was the target,” Sanzu added, tone clipped, eyes still sweeping the space. “Not just you. Not us.”

The words made something cold and sick coil in your stomach.

Mikey finally turned to face you. His voice was calm. Absolute.

“You’re coming with me.”

You blinked, unsure if you heard right. “What?”

“You’re not staying here. You’ll stay at the compound. My place.”

You hesitated, but he was already moving past you, grabbing your coat from where it had fallen on the floor. He shook it out gently, held it toward you.

“Until we figure out who did this, you’re not walking around unguarded. I’m not losing you again.”

There was something final in the way he said it. Like he had already decided. Like this was the cost of being back in his world.

You took the coat, slowly, eyes still scanning your ruined apartment.

“I should pack some things…”

Mikey nodded, then looked at Sanzu. “Clear the rest. Watch the door.”

Sanzu gave a slight nod, already pulling his phone out as he turned to head into the hallway. Reinforcements were probably already on their way.

You stepped over the broken glass carefully, grabbing a small overnight bag from the bottom of your closet — somehow untouched. Mikey followed, quiet but close. He didn’t hover, didn’t rush you. He just watched, hands in his coat pockets, jaw tight.

You stuffed clothes into the bag without thinking — a sweater, jeans, your phone charger, the worn-out hoodie you used to sleep in. Toothbrush. Keys.

When you reached for the photo frame by your nightstand — the one that had once held a picture of you and him back when things were simple — you found the glass shattered and the photo torn.

Your hand paused above it.

Mikey’s voice was just behind you.

“We’ll fix it.”

You weren’t sure if he meant the apartment or… everything else.

But you nodded anyway.

Bag in hand, you turned to him.

And for the first time tonight, you didn’t feel like he was a stranger anymore.

___________________________________________________________________________

The black car pulled up to a quiet building tucked behind layers of concrete, cameras, and silence.

You expected it to feel cold — and it did. Too clean. Too sharp. This wasn’t the Tokyo you remembered. This wasn’t even the Mikey you remembered.

You stepped out of the car and looked up at the building, uncertain.

It didn’t look like any place you’d been before — not with him, not on your own. And that hit harder than you expected.

He’d built a life you’d never seen.

“Come on,” Mikey said beside you, soft but firm, as if he already knew this would feel like walking into another world.

You followed him up the wide steps, your overnight bag still slung over your shoulder. He didn’t say much. Just walked a step ahead of you, not too far, hand in his pocket, the other ready to reach for you if you needed him to.

The security guards didn’t stop you. One glance from Mikey and the door buzzed open.

Inside, it was modern. Minimal. Everything cold grey and steel black, all softened by warm lighting that still felt too artificial to be comforting. It didn’t feel like anyone lived here. It felt… contained.

Like him.

As the elevator hummed upward, you stood beside him in silence, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. The number ticked up. Floor 21.

Ding.

The doors slid open — and there, waiting in the hallway, stood two people you did recognize.

Ran and Rindou Haitani.

Ran had one hand tucked in his pocket, his head tilted lazily like always, chewing gum and mid-conversation. Rindou stood beside him, leaning back against the wall, scrolling through something on his phone.

But the second they saw you, both of them froze.

Ran’s gum nearly fell out of his mouth.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

You blinked — then broke into a slow grin. “Hey, Ran. Rinnie.”

Just like that.

Like no years had passed. Like you weren’t standing in a building that screamed criminal empire. Like you hadn’t cried in a church just an hour earlier.

Rindou was the first to move, pushing off the wall and walking toward you with an actual smile. “You’re real.”

“I get that a lot tonight,” you said with a soft laugh.

Rindou didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around you in a quiet, solid hug — a little awkward with how tall he’d grown, but genuine. Warm. Familiar. You hugged him back tightly.

Ran wasn’t far behind. He slipped in and hooked an arm around your shoulders, ruffling your hair just like he used to. “God, I missed you, brat.”

You smacked his chest lightly. “Still dramatic, huh?”

Ran just grinned wider. “You’re the one showing up like a ghost with perfect timing. Of course I’m dramatic.”

“She’s staying here.”

Mikey’s voice cut through softly — not sharp, but clear. Close. You could feel the shift in tone before you even turned to look at him.

You did. He was standing just behind you now, eyes not quite on you, not quite on them. His jaw was tight.

And then—

His hand slipped around your waist, settling low, fingers warm through the fabric of your coat. Light pressure. Not pulling. Not claiming. But unmistakable.

A quiet message. Ran’s eyes flicked down to the gesture — then up again with a small, smug smirk.

Rindou said nothing, but his brows twitched up once. You could practically hear the hmm in his head.

You didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. Just smiled, a little amused, a little touched.

“Still competitive, huh, Mikey?”

He didn’t answer. But his thumb brushed gently over your side. Once.

You looked back at the brothers. “We’ll catch up later?”

Ran winked. “Yeah. Don’t go disappearing again or we’ll actually come looking for you this time.”

Rindou nodded. “It’s good to see you. Really.”

You gave them both one last look — familiar faces in a place that felt anything but — and then let Mikey guide you the rest of the way.

His hand didn’t leave your waist the whole walk down the hall.

And somehow, even though nothing looked familiar, you started to feel like maybe— just maybe— you weren’t completely lost.

___________________________________________________________________________

The elevator ride up had been almost entirely silent, save for the low hum of the machinery and the soft click of the floor indicators as they rose higher into the Tokyo skyline. You stood beside Mikey without speaking, the space between you not quite filled with tension—but not comfortable either.

You’d grown used to silence from him over the years. This one, though, felt different. Like the weight of the past was still pressing down between you, heavy and unfinished.

When the elevator doors opened, you stepped out into the penthouse.

The first thing you noticed was how cold it felt. Not physically—though the marble floors and slate walls didn’t help—but emotionally. There were no photographs. No clutter. No books out on tables or half-drunk glasses of water. No signs of life.

It wasn’t a home. It was a hideout.

You didn’t say anything.

Mikey walked in first, tossing his jacket neatly onto the back of a chair, then gestured wordlessly toward the couch.

You followed slowly, arms crossed in front of your chest. Your bag still hung from your shoulder.

“This place isn’t you,” you said finally.

Mikey didn’t look at you. He moved to the window instead, gazing out at the sprawl of neon beyond the glass. The city glowed beneath the night sky, vibrant and noisy—so different from the silent room you now stood in.

“It is now,” he said simply.

Your jaw tightened. You stepped out of your shoes and walked over to the couch, sinking into the cushions with a sigh. The weight of the day was catching up to you in ways you hadn’t expected. Emotional exhaustion mixed with adrenaline withdrawal left your limbs aching and your head heavy.

Mikey turned away from the window and slowly came to sit beside you—not close enough to touch, but not far either. You could feel the quiet pull of him even now. After everything.

“How long have you lived here?” you asked after a while.

He shrugged. “A couple years. We change places often.”

You nodded. It wasn’t surprising. It was just… sad. How all of them had become ghosts in their own lives.

“I always imagined you’d have a place near the ocean,” you murmured. “Somewhere peaceful.”

Mikey’s eyes flicked toward you, just for a moment. “That version of me didn’t last.”

You looked down at your hands in your lap. The silence stretched again, long and slow.

But this time, you didn’t fight it.

“Why did you keep coming back to the church?” you asked quietly, without looking at him.

He was still for a beat.

Then: “Because I knew you would be there.”

“And you couldn’t face me?”

“I didn’t think I deserved to.”

The quiet after that was heavier. But not angry. Just full of everything you hadn’t said for years.

You leaned back slowly into the couch, head pressing into the cushion behind you. Your eyes drifted toward him. He looked tired in a way he hadn’t before. Not just physically—but in his bones. In the way he sat like he was still bracing for impact.

“Mikey.”

He looked at you.

“I don’t know if I can trust you yet.”

He didn’t flinch. “That’s fair.”

You looked away again. “But I want to.”

He nodded once, and then leaned back too—mirroring you. His shoulder was just barely brushing yours now.

You stayed like that for a while. No conversation. No tension. Just two people sitting on a couch in the dark, trying to remember how to exist in the same room again.

The exhaustion hit you fast. Like a wave.

You hadn’t realized how tired you were until your head tilted slightly, and your temple brushed his shoulder.

You froze for a second—expecting him to tense or shift away.

But he didn’t.

He was still.

So you stayed.

Your breath evened out slowly, your eyelids heavier with each passing moment. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beside you was oddly calming—like a memory you hadn’t let yourself think about in years.

Your hand relaxed against your thigh, close to his. His pinky twitched, but didn’t move.

You didn’t know when your breathing shifted into something deeper. Only that the world felt farther away. Quieter. Safer.

You felt his voice, not heard it, when he finally spoke.

“…You still hum when you’re tired.”

It was a whisper—so low you might’ve missed it entirely if you hadn’t been so close.

He turned his head slightly, looking down at you, resting now fully against him. Your cheek was tucked into his upper arm, your breathing soft and slow.

Your lashes fluttered with a twitch of sleep. Your lips barely parted.

He didn’t touch you. Just watched. Quiet and still.

And for a long, long moment, Mikey didn’t feel like the leader of Bonten. Or the man who had ruined everything to try and save it. He felt like the boy who used to hold your hand on late summer nights, walking nowhere, saying nothing.

He stared down at you and felt the ache creep in again. Sharp and soft.

“I’ll stay up,” he whispered. “Just in case you dream.”

And then he let himself breathe.

___________________________________________________________________________

You didn’t notice when the city outside went quiet. When the distant sirens faded and the neon glow dimmed behind the curtains. You were already asleep—deeply, heavily—shoulder pressed to his, breath even and soft.

Mikey stayed still for as long as he could.

He didn’t want to move you. Not yet.

But the angle of your neck looked uncomfortable. And even now—after everything—he still couldn’t stand the idea of you hurting, even a little.

So he moved.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

His hand hovered near your shoulder. Then, gently, he slipped one arm beneath your legs, the other under your back. You stirred just faintly, murmuring something too soft to catch—but you didn’t wake.

He lifted you with careful precision, the way someone would handle something irreplaceable. He’d done it once before, years ago, when you’d fallen asleep on his lap after sneaking onto the school roof together. But that was then. Before blood. Before power. Before Bonten.

Now, you were heavier with history. With the weight of all that had been lost.

He carried you through the shadowed hallway toward the only bedroom in the penthouse that felt untouched by the rest of the cold, curated world he now lived in. This room had no weapons hidden in drawers. No screens blinking with data. Just dark walls, thick curtains, and a king-sized bed with too many unused pillows.

He lay you down gently, tucking the edge of the blanket around your shoulder before stepping back.

And he didn’t leave.

He stood in the doorway for a long time, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest. Making sure you were real. That you hadn’t disappeared on him like a dream.

“I won’t disappear,” he whispered to himself.

But he didn’t join you in the bed.

Instead, he sat on the small couch across the room, arms crossed, one leg up over his knee—and watched until sleep pulled him under, slouched and silent in the dark.

__________________________________________________________________________

The knock came just after nine. Sharp, deliberate. Meant to be heard.

Mikey’s eyes snapped open instantly. No haze. Just the kind of readiness only born from years of sleeping light and living in danger.

He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake you—still curled peacefully under his sheets, breath slow and even. You looked soft in the early light. Softer than he'd remembered.

He closed the door behind him without a sound.

Sanzu stood waiting in the hallway, a folder in one hand, hair tousled and half-dried from the morning mist. His usual crooked grin wasn’t there.

“You actually slept,” Sanzu said, a little surprised.

Mikey didn’t answer—just motioned for him to come inside.

The living room was still dim. Mikey didn’t bother flipping on any lights as Sanzu dropped the file onto the coffee table.

“We pulled the surveillance,” Sanzu started. “Building cameras caught the break-in around 2:13 a.m.”

“No forced entry?”

“None,” Sanzu confirmed. “Keypad was used. Someone either cracked the code or had access.”

Mikey’s jaw tensed.

Sanzu flipped open the file, revealing grainy black-and-white stills. “Two intruders. Black hoodies. Masked. Gloves. Moved fast and clean.”

He tapped one photo—just a blur of a man turning toward the camera.

“But this frame here—when one of them adjusted his mask, we caught this.”

A tattoo. Barely visible on the neck. Jagged lines. Possibly a fang… or claws. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“You recognize it?” Mikey asked.

Sanzu shook his head. “Not yet. Could be custom. Could be an old faction mark. I’ve got Koko and Rindou looking through the archives.”

“No gang tag?” Mikey pressed.

“Nothing we’ve confirmed,” Sanzu said. “But it gives us a thread.”

Mikey stared at the printout for a long moment. The lines of the tattoo looked familiar—but it was just on the edge of memory. Something from years ago, maybe.

“Why her?” he asked quietly.

Sanzu shrugged. “Wrong place? Or maybe they know she matters.”

Mikey didn’t speak. Just exhaled hard and slow.

“She’s safe here,” Sanzu added. “No one followed you. We’ve got a lock on the perimeter, and Kaku doubled the floor security.”

“Keep it that way,” Mikey said, voice low.

“I will. And Mikey—” Sanzu looked at him more directly now, voice softening slightly. “She looked happy yesterday. Not just safe. Like something was back that she thought she lost.”

Mikey didn’t answer. His gaze flicked toward the closed bedroom door.

“She hugged Ran,” Sanzu added with a lopsided grin. “He nearly passed out.”

Mikey gave him a dry look. “Ran will live.”

“You jealous?”

“She’s mine,” Mikey said simply. Not sharp. Just sure.

Sanzu raised both hands in mock surrender. “Not arguing.”

He backed toward the door, file tucked under his arm.

“We’ll know more by tonight,” he added before slipping out.

And then the apartment was quiet again.

Mikey stood there a moment longer, hand resting on the edge of the table, eyes still on the photo.

A partial tattoo. No clear ID.

But it was enough to start pulling threads.

He turned, walking back toward the bedroom. Paused again before the door.

When he opened it, he found you exactly where he’d left you. Curled up, safe, tucked into his sheets like you belonged there.

He watched for a moment.

The storm was coming—he could feel it—but for now, he let the quiet stretch a little longer.

___________________________________________________________________________

When you stepped out of the bedroom, Mikey was already in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair still a little tousled. He looked over at the sound of your bare footsteps on the hardwood—and paused mid-motion, coffee mug in hand.

For a heartbeat, his expression softened—like seeing you there, in his space, had flickered some old part of him back to life.

“Morning,” he said quietly.

You blinked at him. Then wrinkled your nose playfully. “That bed’s way too big.”

He huffed out something like a laugh under his breath and turned to pour another mug. Without asking, he slid it across the counter to you. Black. No sugar. Just like you used to take it.

You took the mug slowly. “You remembered?”

Mikey met your gaze. “I never forgot.”

You didn’t answer. Just sipped.

The moment passed quietly, but it wasn’t heavy. For the first time in what felt like years, it was… comfortable.

Then Sanzu strolled in, yawning loudly and already halfway through a bag of sour gummies.

“Well, well,” he drawled with a smirk. “Sleeping beauty’s up.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smirk was real. “You’re still alive, huh?”

“Barely. I almost choked on sugar this morning.” He popped another gummy into his mouth with zero remorse.

Kakucho arrived next, then Kokonoi. Ran and Rindou weren’t far behind.

It didn’t take long before the penthouse’s quiet was filled with movement—casual banter, low conversations, the sound of Sanzu tapping on his tablet while Kokonoi explained something about financial shifts in the city. You leaned against the counter, watching all of them interact like a strange, violent little family.

You knew them all. Not in this version—but from years ago. Some more than others.

Ran caught your eye first, lifting his brows in something close to teasing affection.

“Good to see you still know how to survive in this den of snakes,” he said, walking over to pull you into a half-hug.

You smiled, laughing as Rindou joined in from the other side, squeezing your shoulder gently.

“I swear you haven’t aged a day,” Rindou said, blinking at you with that always-low voice. “Did you make a deal with the devil or what?”

“Nope,” you replied, smirking. “Just stayed out of trouble.”

“Unlike us,” Ran murmured with a crooked smile.

The others watched the exchange with varying degrees of surprise and amusement.

Kakucho, who’d only ever seen the weight Mikey carried, found himself watching the way you touched his arm lightly when you passed him a dish. The way you made space beside you without asking. Like it had always been his.

Sanzu kept sneaking glances between you and Mikey like he was studying a puzzle. Like he couldn’t quite believe how soft Mikey had become with you in the room—but also like he understood it, in his own crooked way.

And Kokonoi, despite barely speaking all morning, caught the moment when you fixed the collar of Mikey’s shirt as you walked past, casual and affectionate—and Mikey didn’t even blink. Didn’t flinch. He just let you.

That alone was enough to make Kokonoi hum quietly to himself.

They were starting to see it.

Not just that you had history.

But why Mikey still looked at you like that.

Like the world made more sense when you were close.

___________________________________________________________________________

Later, when the others had dispersed—Koko and Kakucho back on business, Sanzu in the hallway with his phone pressed to his ear—Ran and Rindou left to grab food, promising to return in an hour.

That left you and Mikey sitting on the balcony, late afternoon sunlight warming the concrete floor beneath your feet. A breeze drifted through the high air, quieting the city below.

You were sitting side by side on the bench, sharing the last half of a peach soda.

“You used to hate this stuff,” you said, laughing softly.

Mikey shrugged. “I still do.”

You blinked at him. “Then why—?”

“I wanted to taste what you were tasting,” he said simply.

You looked at him.

Really looked at him.

And for the first time in a long, long time—he smiled.

Not the empty, distant one he wore around the others.

A real one.

Small, a little uneven, but honest.

Your heart squeezed. “There you are,” you whispered.

He glanced at you. “What?”

“You. I hadn’t seen you smile like that in years.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then: “You make it easy.”

You didn’t answer, but you leaned into him just a little, shoulder against his.

And again, he didn’t pull away.

___________________________________________________________________________

The city stretched wide beneath the balcony, lights flickering like distant fireflies. Somewhere in the distance, a siren called out and then faded, swallowed by the concrete hush of late night Tokyo.

Inside the penthouse, it was quiet.

Everyone else was gone or asleep.

And you sat curled on the couch, blanket tucked around your knees, a mug of tea cradled in your hands. The living room light was dim, casting the space in soft amber. Mikey sat beside you—close, but not crowding. He hadn’t said much since dinner, but you didn’t mind. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence.

It was the kind of quiet you used to share when words weren’t needed.

But tonight, something was.

You set the mug down gently on the coffee table and turned your head.

“Mikey,” you said softly.

He glanced at you, eyes still shadowed but clearer than they’d been in years.

“Do you ever regret it?”

He didn’t ask what.

He knew.

There was a beat of silence. Then he leaned back a little, hands clasped loosely in front of him, elbows resting on his knees.

“Yes,” he said.

You studied him in the low light. “Which part?”

He didn’t look at you. His gaze was distant, turned toward the skyline like he might find the right answer hidden in it.

“All of it,” he murmured. “Leaving. Becoming this. Letting myself believe that I was protecting you by staying away.”

You didn’t interrupt.

“Back then, I thought... if I vanished, you’d move on. Be safe. Be happy.” He let out a short breath. “But I kept showing up. Every year. Couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stay away. Even if I stayed out of sight, I needed to know you were okay.”

You swallowed. “You could’ve just asked.”

“I didn’t think I had the right.”

He finally turned to face you then.

There was no mask. No cold Bonten boss. Just a boy who had broken his own heart thinking he was saving yours.

“You looked so peaceful,” he whispered. “Every year, in that church. And I’d stand in the back and think: Don’t ruin that for her.”

You leaned closer now, voice lower. “But I wasn’t peaceful. I waited every year hoping you’d be stupid enough to show your face.”

That surprised him.

You gave a soft, sad smile. “And when you didn’t, I hated you all over again.”

His lips parted—but no words came.

You looked down, hands fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.

“I’m not the same girl you left,” you said. “But she still exists somewhere in here. She still wants to believe that you loved her for real.”

“I did.”

Your breath caught.

“I do,” he added, more certain now. “I never stopped.”

And for once, you didn’t try to rationalize it. You didn’t argue or push it away.

Because you still loved him too.

It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t easy. But it was true.

You looked up at him again. “Then maybe… you should start showing me.”

He blinked.

“Not with words. With actions.” You scooted a little closer, resting your head lightly against his shoulder. “You left me once. That’s your burden. But now you get to prove you won’t again.”

Mikey didn’t speak.

He just moved his arm gently, wrapping it around your shoulder.

Holding you.

Like he was scared he might break the spell if he let go.

The moment held, soft and warm and trembling at the edges.

After a while, you murmured, “Do you remember that night on the school roof? When we talked about the future?”

He gave a quiet sound. “You said you wanted a bookstore by the sea.”

You smiled against his shoulder. “You said you wanted to get old before your time. Like an old man in a young body.”

He let out a slow breath. “Guess I got my wish.”

“No,” you whispered. “You just aged where it hurt the most.”

That hit deeper than you meant it to, and Mikey went still beside you.

But he didn’t pull away.

Eventually, you both drifted into silence again. Not out of fear. But peace.

He was still learning how to show up.

And tonight, for once, he didn’t run.

___________________________________________________________________________

The penthouse was quiet.

Muted city light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, spilling into the open-plan kitchen as you moved barefoot across cool tile. The oversized hoodie you wore — Mikey’s, probably — hung just above your knees.

You hadn’t planned on cooking. But the silence had started to feel too loud.

So now, there was a pan warming on the stove, rice already steaming, miso simmering low. Your hands moved on autopilot — slicing scallions, tasting broth, adjusting seasoning. Familiar. Calming.

Behind you, you could feel him watching.

Mikey sat at the far end of the kitchen island, one arm braced on the counter, head tilted slightly like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“You cook now?” he asked, voice still slightly rough from sleep.

You didn’t look up. “Someone had to, since you clearly don’t.”

There was a pause. Then a quiet hum of acknowledgment.

You placed a bowl in front of him. “Eat before it gets cold.”

He glanced down at the food, then back at you — as if the simple gesture carried more weight than it should. Maybe it did.

You sat across from him, sipping your own tea.

After a few bites, Mikey finally said, “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know.” You met his eyes. “But I wanted to.”

The air between you shifted — not heavy, but full of something unspoken. You both understood this wasn't just about breakfast.

Before anything more could be said, the door opened.

Sanzu strode in like he owned the place, Kakucho behind him with a tablet in one hand.

“They were pros,” Sanzu said by way of greeting, already mid-thought. “Clean entry, no prints, used ghost phones. But one of them slipped.”

He placed a printed photo on the counter between you and Mikey.

You leaned in to get a closer look — and your stomach dropped.

You blinked. Then again. The face was older now, but you knew it. That scar on the cheek, the way his mouth twisted even at rest.

Mikey noticed the way your expression changed. “You know him?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah… a few years ago. I was working in a warehouse. He used to hang out in the back alley — always trying to get the girls to come smoke with him. One night he wouldn’t take no for an answer and cornered someone. I got her out. Punched him so hard I thought I broke his jaw.”

Sanzu let out a low whistle. “Bet he remembers you too.”

“Neck tattoo,” you added. “Wolf. Cracked fang.”

Kokonoi, who had entered with a mug of coffee, froze at that. “That’s Gekkō-kai. Minor syndicate. Nasty reputation, though. We’ve been watching them sniff around the lower rings of Bonten turf.”

You turned toward Mikey. “So this wasn’t random.”

“No,” he said. “They were sending a message.”

Your expression hardened. “To you. Through me.”

“And now they know you’re not just some girl,” Sanzu said, eyes sharper than usual.

You turned back to Mikey. “So what now?”

“I handle it.”

“I want to help.”

Mikey didn’t even blink. “No.”

You stood straighter. “I gave you the clue. I know this man. I remember more than I thought. You said I could know everything now. Let me be involved.”

His jaw worked quietly for a moment. You could tell he wanted to say no again — to keep you out, to shove you into a shadow where he thought you’d be safe. But then… something shifted.

“Fine,” he said slowly. “You help from here. No fieldwork. No danger.”

You nodded once, accepting the condition.

Sanzu muttered something about being impressed. Ran and Rindou, who had appeared in the hallway after all the noise, just exchanged glances — and Rindou smirked when he saw how Mikey’s hand casually settled on your lower back as he walked past you, almost like claiming space.

And maybe that’s what this was: reclaiming space. Bit by bit.

When the others dispersed, Mikey stayed behind with you.

You turned to him, leaning back on the counter slightly. “You’re still bad at asking for help.”

“And you’re still good at giving it even when you shouldn’t have to,” he replied, voice soft.

You smiled faintly. “Guess we haven’t changed that much after all.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The door to Mikey’s room clicked shut behind you.

The space was dimly lit, the city casting ghost-lights through the high windows. His bed was still made from the morning, crisp lines untouched. But the tension between you now? Anything but neat.

“I said you could stay,” Mikey said, low and flat, “not throw yourself into this mess.”

You crossed your arms, standing near the foot of the bed. “I’m already in it, Mikey. They came to my home. You think I can just sit back and do nothing?”

He stepped closer, jaw clenched. “Yes. Because doing nothing keeps you alive.”

You scoffed. “You don’t get to make that choice for me anymore.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“No,” you shot back. “You’re trying to control me. Again.”

That hit something.

Mikey’s shoulders tensed. His mouth parted slightly — but no words came. You saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes. He turned away from you, pacing two slow steps, fingers twitching like they needed something to break.

You pushed, voice softer now. “I’m not that girl from before. I’m not fragile. And I’m not asking to join Bonten, Manjiro. I’m asking you to let me help.”

His hands dropped to his sides.

“You could die,” he said quietly. “I can’t…” His throat worked around the next words. “I can’t watch that happen.”

You stepped forward. “And you think I haven’t imagined you dead every day since you left?”

He turned then — fast — and the look in his eyes made your breath catch. Anger, grief, love. All of it, tangled up and strangling him from the inside.

“I thought staying away would keep you safe,” he ground out. “I thought if I kept the monsters away from you—”

“You became one,” you whispered. “And I still wanted you.”

Silence.

Just the two of you, breathing hard in a storm of feelings you didn’t have the words for. Then:

“I’m scared,” he admitted. Quietly. Brokenly. “I’m scared that if I let you get too close again… they’ll use you. I’ll lose you. And this time, it won’t be because I walked away. It’ll be because I let you stay.”

You stepped in, close enough that he could feel the heat of you.

“You won’t lose me,” you whispered. “Not unless you push me away again.”

And that was it. That was the breaking point.

He surged forward — his mouth crashing into yours like it was the only way to keep breathing. One hand cupped the back of your head, the other wrapping tight around your waist like he was terrified you might vanish again.

It wasn’t soft this time. It was desperate.

Your hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, kissing him back with everything you’d buried for years. He groaned into your mouth when your fingers tugged lightly at his hair, and the sound went straight through your chest.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours, breaths ragged.

“Stay,” he murmured. “Stay with me. Even if I’m a mess. Even if this life is dark and broken.”

You brushed your lips over his again, gentler now.

“I’m not scared of the dark,” you said. “Not if you’re in it.”

And Mikey — Bonten’s king, killer, ghost — finally let himself breathe again.

___________________________________________________________________________

His lips were on yours again before either of you could think. There was no hesitation now — no walls, no silence.

Just want.

Mikey kissed you like it hurt. Like he'd spent years with his fists clenched, and now they were finally open and shaking. You moved together across the room blindly, bumping into the bedframe as he pulled you closer, one hand sliding up your back to cup the base of your neck, the other gripping your waist like it grounded him.

You didn’t stop — didn’t want to stop. Not when he was kissing you like this, like your mouth was the only place he’d ever known peace.

His voice was rough against your lips. “Tell me to stop. If you don’t want this—”

You cut him off with another kiss. Fierce. Certain.

“I want you,” you whispered, breathless. “I’ve always wanted you.”

That was all it took. Something snapped in him. He made a soft, broken sound in his throat as he pushed your jacket off your shoulders, his mouth trailing from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your throat. You gasped, fingers sliding under his shirt to find the warmth of his skin — scarred and solid and real.

He didn’t rush. Even with all the tension, all the years of longing — he still touched you like you were something precious. Like he couldn’t believe you were really here.

And you were. You were here. With him.

His hoodie hit the floor. Your shirt followed. And then you were tangled on the bed, half-dressed, flushed skin against flushed skin, heat and heartbeats and tangled sheets.

When he finally hovered above you, breath stuttering, eyes wild and soft all at once, he paused — just long enough to ask without words.

You pulled him down again.

And the rest was need. Soft gasps. Desperate touches. Kisses that felt like salvation.

There was no performance. No pretense. Just two broken people finding wholeness in each other’s arms, the weight of the past burning away with every breath.

When it was over — when you were curled against him, your head tucked under his chin and his arm wrapped tight around your back — the silence was different.

It was safe.

He kissed the crown of your head softly.

“Still here,” he whispered.

You smiled sleepily against his chest.

“Not going anywhere.”

__________________________________________________________________________

It was the warmth that woke you first.

Not sunlight, not noise — just the gentle, steady heat of another body next to yours. A weight behind you. An arm wrapped loosely around your waist. A quiet exhale against the back of your neck that stirred your hair with each breath.

For a moment, you kept your eyes closed, heart holding perfectly still.

You’d dreamed of this before. More than once. That you’d wake up and Mikey would be there, just… there. In the same room. Not a memory. Not a ghost.

But when you shifted slightly beneath the covers, the arm around your waist tightened, just a little. The touch was instinctive, familiar. Real.

Your breath hitched — not from surprise, but from relief so sharp it almost hurt.

He’s here.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to glance over your shoulder. Mikey’s eyes were open. Barely. Still caught in that hazy space between sleep and waking. His hair was a mess, splayed out over the pillow. His face was soft in the morning light — younger, somehow. More like the boy you remembered and less like the king he’d become.

“Morning,” you whispered, not wanting to break whatever this was too fast.

His voice was hoarse. Quiet.

“You stayed.”

You smiled, small and tired but real. “So did you.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just watched you for a few long seconds like he was still trying to make sure none of this would disappear if he blinked too hard. Then his thumb brushed along the curve of your side where his hand rested. Gentle. Careful.

“You slept well?” he asked, like the question mattered more than anything else in the world.

You nodded. “Safe.”

A pause. Something flickered in his eyes.

“I’m glad.”

You rolled onto your back slowly, letting the covers shift as you turned to face him. The distance between you felt smaller now — not just physically, but in all the ways that had once seemed impossible to cross.

His hand moved from your side to your cheek. He didn’t pull you closer. Didn’t kiss you. Just… held you there, looking at you like he was afraid to blink.

“You’re real,” he said, more to himself than to you. “I’ve seen you in dreams a thousand times, but…”

“But I’m here,” you finished for him.

He nodded.

You both fell into silence again — the kind that didn’t need to be filled. Outside the window, the light had softened from gold to pale amber. Somewhere in the distance, the city stirred to life — distant traffic, faint birdsong, the everyday rhythms of Tokyo beginning again.

But inside this room, the world had stopped.

Mikey traced a slow circle on your shoulder with his thumb. “You don’t have to stay if you’re not ready,” he murmured. “I know this place, my world… it’s not easy. It never will be.”

You reached up and took his hand in yours.

“I didn’t come back because it was easy. I came back because I never stopped wanting to.”

His throat moved like he was swallowing something hard. You wondered if he even knew how to respond to being forgiven.

“I don’t know if I deserve you.”

“You don’t,” you said — not unkindly. “But you’re still mine.”

That finally drew a small smile from him. Tired, tentative — but real.

He leaned in slowly, pressing his forehead against yours. And you stayed like that for a long while. Breathing. Existing. Tangled together beneath soft sheets in the pale morning light.

You didn’t talk about what came next.

Not yet.

But the weight of his hand in yours, the quiet of his breath, and the slow, steady beat of his heart against your side — all of it told you what you needed to know.

He wasn’t going anywhere this time.

Summary: What started as a simple solo train ride into the city quickly became anything but. You thought you were slipping away unnoticed for a harmless meet-up with a friend—but you forgot one crucial detail: you're Bonten’s darling. Their girlfriend. And you don’t get to vanish just like that.

Words: 11753

You’re not going alone

The train platform was quiet this morning, early sunlight glinting off the tracks. You stood with your coat pulled tight, phone in hand, earbuds ready. A casual meet-up downtown with an old friend — something simple, something normal.

Something you hadn’t told your boyfriends about.

You figured it would be fine. Just a train ride. No big deal.

But as the train slid into the station, you got the unsettling feeling you were being watched. You brushed it off. Paranoia, probably. You lived with Bonten, after all — a little paranoia came with the territory.

You found an empty seat by the window and sat down, sliding in your earbuds and turning up your music. The familiar pulse of bass helped you relax.

Until the seat beside you shifted under someone’s weight.

You turned your head—and froze.

“Going somewhere, pretty girl?” Sanzu’s voice was silk over blades, his smirk lazy, but his eyes sharp. “Didn’t think to mention it to us, huh?”

Your heart jumped into your throat. “W-What are you—?”

“’What are we doing here?’” came a cooler voice from your other side. Kokonoi slid into the seat, crossing one leg over the other, his eyes scanning his phone like this was routine. “That’s the real question, sweetheart. I thought we talked about not sneaking off.”

“I wasn’t—” You pulled your earbuds out. “I just wanted to meet a friend—"

“And you couldn’t even leave a note, baby?” Sanzu tilted his head, expression darkening just slightly. “You know how that looks?”

“It’s just a friend—”

“Girl or guy?” Koko interrupted, still not looking at you.

You hesitated for half a second too long.

Sanzu let out a low whistle. “Oh, it’s a guy. Wow. That’s bold, doll. Real bold.”

Your lips parted in protest, but nothing came out. You suddenly felt very small between them.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” you mumbled.

Kokonoi finally turned to face you, his phone slipping into his pocket. “It is when you belong to us, princess.”

Sanzu leaned in closer, voice dropping. “You’re ours, baby. You don’t run off without your boys.”

You sat there, caught between defiance and guilt. They were overwhelming. Warm. Possessive. Familiar.

Sanzu’s gaze softened slightly when he saw your frustration, his teasing grin easing into something gentler.

“C’mere, angel,” he murmured. “Don’t pout.”

You let out a small breath, stubbornness finally melting. You shifted in your seat and leaned your head onto Sanzu’s shoulder, your body relaxing when his arm slid around your waist without hesitation, holding you snug against him.

“There we go,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “That’s better, yeah?”

Koko rested an arm on the back of your seat, fingers grazing your shoulder. “You’re lucky we love you, baby girl.”

“I know,” you muttered against Sanzu’s coat.

They didn’t say anything after that — didn’t need to.

You weren’t alone. You never really were.

And honestly? You didn’t mind it anymore.

__________________________________________________________________________

By the time you stepped off the train with them flanking your sides, your quiet rebellion felt like a half-forgotten dream. They hadn’t left your side since.

Sanzu’s hand was on your lower back.

Kokonoi’s fingers were hooked in your coat pocket.

Silent. Watchful. Undeniably close.

You didn’t bother fighting it anymore. Not when it felt like this — warm, steady, unshakable.

The meeting with your friend came and went. Quick. Polite. Tense, under the weight of Bonten’s unseen presence nearby. They hadn’t let you out of their sight, not even for five minutes. And when it was over, neither of them said a word before leading you into the penthouse suite of one of Kokonoi’s many city properties.

You didn’t know what you expected when the door clicked shut behind you. But what came next?

You weren’t ready for it.

Sanzu was on you first — his hand curling around your chin, tilting it up. His eyes were blazing, but his voice was low.

“You really pissed us off today, baby,” he said, stepping in until your back hit the wall. “Running off like that? Not even a kiss goodbye?”

“I said I was sorry,” you breathed.

He clicked his tongue. “Not with your mouth.”

Behind you, Kokonoi’s presence was quieter — but heavier somehow. His coat was off, sleeves rolled up, jaw clenched tight.

“You scared us,” Koko said. No teasing. Just raw honesty.

Your chest tightened.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered.

Sanzu kissed you before you could say anything else — deep, hungry, like he needed to taste the apology from your throat. His tongue brushed yours, teeth grazing your lip before he pulled away just far enough to speak.

“Doll, you belong to us,” he said against your mouth. “You don’t get to act like you’re still on your own.”

“You think we won’t burn this whole city down if something happens to you?” Kokonoi’s voice came from behind you now, closer. “Don’t make us prove it.”

His hands slid under your shirt, warm palms skating up your sides until you shivered.

“Tell us you get it,” Sanzu said, kissing your jaw. “Right now.”

“I get it,” you exhaled, barely audible.

“You sure?” Kokonoi murmured, breath hot against your neck as he pressed himself flush against your back. “Because we could remind you.”

Their hands were everywhere — Sanzu’s fingers tangled in your hair, Kokonoi’s lips ghosting down your neck as he pushed your coat off your shoulders. You were trapped between them, overwhelmed, adored.

Sanzu’s voice was a growl in your ear now, all heat and authority. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” you choked out. “I belong to you.”

And that was all they needed.

Clothes were gone in moments, kisses deepened into claims, and what followed was a blur of heat and tension and whispered curses — “so fucking pretty,” “ours, all fucking ours,” “don’t ever hide from us again.”

You were worshipped and punished all at once — Kokonoi’s mouth leaving trails of fire down your skin, Sanzu’s hands rough and sweet in turns. Every inch of you marked, owned, reminded.

When it was over, you were wrapped in silk sheets, tangled between both of them.

Sanzu kissed your bare shoulder, arms around your waist. Kokonoi ran his fingers gently through your hair.

“Don’t ever do that again, baby girl,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes, heart still pounding, body spent.

“I won’t,” you breathed. “I swear.”

And for once — they believed you.

___________________________________________________________________________

The morning light poured in through the tall windows, warm and golden across the tangle of bodies in the king-sized bed. The sheets smelled like cologne, cigarettes, and something sweeter — something theirs.

Your body ached, but in the best possible way. You stirred slightly, but an arm tightened around your waist.

“Stay still, baby,” came Sanzu’s sleepy murmur against your neck. “You move, I’ll make you regret it.”

You gave a soft laugh, your voice hoarse. “You said that last night.”

“And I meant it,” he smirked, not even opening his eyes as he dragged you closer.

Kokonoi shifted behind you, already awake — he always was. His hand was stroking your hair lazily, his eyes focused on his phone in the other hand.

“You’ve got about an hour before the meetings start,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “So if you wanna rest, now’s the time.”

“I should get up,” you murmured, though none of your limbs agreed with you.

“No,” Sanzu said simply. “You’re not going anywhere.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not gonna run again.”

“That’s cute,” Koko said, finally setting the phone aside to pull you into him as well. “But we’re not giving you the chance.”

Wrapped in their arms, warmth radiating from both sides, you sighed and let yourself sink into them.

Being theirs was overwhelming sometimes. But it was never empty.

It was fire and danger and love — all-consuming.

And in this quiet morning light, you felt something terrifying and safe all at once: home.

___________________________________________________________________________

Try That Again Princess

You didn’t mean to sneak off.

Okay, maybe you did.

But in your defense, you’d been cooped up all week with overbearing, hyper-protective gangsters who treated your freedom like a negotiable privilege. You loved the Haitani brothers, of course — in that can’t-breathe-without-them, borderline toxic kind of way — but today, you just wanted to feel normal.

A solo shopping trip. A cute outfit. No bodyguards, no limos, no whispered warnings in your ear about enemies watching. Just a little time to yourself.

You'd picked a quiet boutique in the nicer part of the city. No paparazzi, no street rats. Just music playing softly in the background and racks of silky clothes you could lose yourself in.

You were almost done, too. Just one more dress to try on.

It was simple. Tight. A deep wine-red that hugged your curves too perfectly.

You stepped out of the fitting room and turned toward the mirror — and that’s when it happened.

That voice.

Low, warm, and laced with trouble.

“Ohhh, that’s dangerous,” a familiar drawl echoed behind you. “That color’s practically illegal on you, babe.”

Your blood went cold.

You turned slowly to find Ran Haitani lounging just outside the fitting room area like he belonged there. One hand twirled his signature baton like a fidget toy, the other shoved into the pocket of his long, black coat.

You blinked. “Ran—?! What the hell—?”

“Mm-mm,” he said, wagging a finger, grin wide. “You know better than to call us after you’ve tried to run, princess.”

Before you could speak, another voice joined — this one sharper, cooler.

“You really thought we wouldn’t find you?” Rindou stepped out from between two racks of clothing, sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, eyes scanning you slowly. Too slowly. “Or are you just testing us now?”

You opened your mouth. “I’m not testing you, I just—”

Ran cut you off, strolling over like he had all the time in the world. “You just wanted to play normal girl for a day, huh?”

You took a step back. Mistake.

He closed the distance instantly, his hands finding your waist with terrifying ease. He spun you gently back toward the mirror, chin hooking over your shoulder as his fingers dug into your hips.

“This what you picked out to impress someone?” he asked lowly, lips brushing your ear. “Or were you hoping we’d come find you?”

You shivered. “Ran—”

“You knew we would,” Rindou said, appearing at your other side. His reflection was right behind you now — lean arms crossed, his gaze fixed on yours through the mirror.

“I just wanted some air,” you whispered, suddenly unsure whether you were angry, aroused, or both.

Ran chuckled darkly. “Next time, you ask for air. We give it to you.”

“If you behave,” Rindou added, leaning in to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “Otherwise, you don’t breathe without us knowing.”

“Okay,” you huffed, looking between the two of them. “Are you seriously going to act like I committed a crime for shopping without you?”

“Oh, baby,” Ran murmured, his hands smoothing over your waist, fingers dipping a little too low. “You did.”

“You don’t sneak off from us,” Rindou said, voice tight with restraint. “Not unless you want us to come find you.”

You stiffened. “And what happens if I do?”

Silence.

Then, Ran’s lips curved against your cheek. “Then we remind you who you belong to.”

Rindou reached down and took your hand — gently, but his grip was firm. “Let’s go.”

“I’m not done trying stuff on,” you said, trying for defiance.

Ran smirked, eyes glinting. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll help you with the next one.”

Rindou tugged you toward the changing room again.

“And if you’re really lucky, princess,” he said, “we’ll let you wear something home.”

Your knees went weak.

Because when the Haitani brothers smiled like that — slow, predatory, and far too pleased with themselves — you knew you were done for.

__________________________________________________________________________

The dressing room wasn’t made for three people — not for this. Not for the way Ran had you backed against the full-length mirror, not for the way Rindou clicked the lock behind him like it was routine.

You weren’t even sure how you’d gotten here this fast — half-pulled, half-coaxed, fully doomed.

Ran’s fingers were already at the hem of the wine-red dress, lifting it like he owned it — because in his mind, he probably did.

“This one’s cute,” he said, eyes trailing your body like a threat. “But you wore it for us, didn’t you, baby?”

Your mouth opened, but all that came out was a soft gasp as Rindou stepped in behind you, pressing his chest to your back, warm and solid.

“Thought you could sneak off and try shit on without us watching?” he murmured, voice dark against your ear. “You know better.”

Ran crouched down slowly in front of you, lifting the dress up around your thighs, lazy and unhurried like he had all the time in the world. His eyes gleamed.

“No panties?” he murmured, tilting his head. “Or did you ditch them in the fitting room next door?”

You flushed hot.

“They didn’t go with the dress,” you whispered.

“Oh, she knows what she’s doing,” Ran grinned up at Rindou. “You hear that, little brother?”

“I hear it,” Rindou growled. His hands slid under the dress, gripping your hips tightly. “And I’m not in the mood to be teased.”

Ran’s lips grazed the inside of your thigh as he slowly stood back up, his body brushing against yours all the way up. “You feel that, princess?” he asked softly, his breath hot against your lips. “That's what happens when you try to run from us. We don’t chase. We catch.”

Your head fell back against Rindou’s shoulder when Ran kissed you — deep, open-mouthed, slow but intense. His tongue slid against yours while Rindou’s hands roamed under the fabric, palms flattening against your bare skin.

One of them was always teasing.

The other, punishing.

And you were trapped deliciously between them, a plaything in the hands of men who didn’t just crave you — they owned you.

Ran broke the kiss only to let Rindou tilt your face and claim your mouth next, rougher, more possessive. His teeth grazed your lip before he pulled back with a low growl.

“She’s shaking,” he murmured, voice tight.

“Good,” Ran said, dragging the dress slowly up and over your head, baring you to the mirror and to their hungry stares. “Then maybe she’ll remember this next time she tries to disappear.”

The way their hands explored your body wasn’t rushed. It was deliberate. Controlled. Like they wanted you to know — really know — how inescapable their love was.

Ran’s hands cupped your face, soft for once. “You’re not allowed to forget what you do to us, baby. Not ever.”

“And you don’t get to belong to us part-time,” Rindou whispered from behind you, kissing the curve of your neck. “It’s always. Every hour. Every move.”

Their mouths met your skin again and again — neck, shoulders, thighs — your breath catching with every touch, every teasing word. They didn’t let up, didn’t let you down.

Not until you were shaking in their arms, pressed between the glass and their bodies, head spinning with pleasure and possession.

And afterward, as you caught your breath in Ran’s coat and Rindou’s arms, Ran pressed a final kiss to your temple and whispered:

“Next time you want to go shopping, baby girl… just ask.”

“But we’re coming with you,” Rindou added, voice dark and soft against your cheek. “And we’re picking the outfit.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Don’t Make Us Remind You

You didn’t think it was a big deal.

Just a friendly chat with someone from an old job. A face from before all of this — before black cards, penthouses, and the kind of men who would gut someone for looking at you wrong.

But apparently… Mikey didn’t agree.

Neither did Kakucho.

You realized it the moment you stepped into the quiet lounge of the Bonten tower, where both of them waited.

Mikey sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, blank eyes fixed on the floor. Like he’d been sitting there for hours. Like the weight of his silence was building.

Kakucho stood by the window, hands in his pockets, jaw tense — too tense. His eyes lifted when you entered, sharp and unreadable.

“Hey,” you said softly, trying to test the waters. “I didn’t realize I was being followed today.”

“You’re always followed,” Kakucho said. Not cold. Just… true.

Mikey didn’t move. His voice, when it came, was low and almost gentle.

“Who was he?”

You blinked. “What?”

“The guy you were smiling at,” Mikey said, finally lifting his eyes. “Laughing with.”

Kakucho stepped forward, slow and controlled. “You looked happy.”

“I was just being polite,” you said carefully. “It was nothing.”

“You don’t smile like that for us anymore,” Mikey murmured.

That hit too close.

Kakucho’s tone was sharper now. “Do you miss that life?”

You looked between them, heart pounding. “No. That’s not what this is.”

But Mikey stood, and suddenly the energy in the room shifted. He didn’t speak — just walked toward you until you had to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. His fingers brushed your cheek, too soft, too quiet.

“We gave you everything,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“I know.”

“And you still look like you belong somewhere else?”

Your breath caught. “I don’t.”

Kakucho was at your back now — his body warm, his presence solid. “Then say it,” he murmured against your ear. “Say you belong to us.”

You swallowed hard, surrounded again — one hand in Mikey’s, the other caught by Kakucho’s grip on your waist.

“I belong to you,” you whispered.

Mikey’s thumb brushed your bottom lip. “Not loud enough.”

“I belong to you,” you repeated, firmer now. “To both of you.”

Kakucho’s voice dropped. “Good girl.”

It was almost reverent.

Mikey kissed you then — not soft. Not forgiving. A kiss that burned, that took. His hand slid into your hair, keeping you still, mouth deep and possessive against yours.

And when he pulled away, Kakucho spun you toward him, his kiss slower, deeper — like he was savoring it. Like he needed to taste the truth in your words.

Their touches were different, but the message was the same:

You were theirs.

Always.

And if you ever forgot that again — they wouldn’t remind you with words next time.

___________________________________________________________________________

The room was too quiet.

Mikey’s breath ghosted your cheek, his pale hair falling forward as his fingers tilted your chin back up. Kakucho was still behind you, his hand splayed firm across your stomach, anchoring you in place.

“You don’t get to look at anyone else like that,” Mikey said softly — dangerously — eyes unreadable.

“I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie,” Kakucho cut in, his voice like thunder just under the surface. “Not to us.”

Their touches weren’t rough yet — just restrained. But it was the kind of restraint that warned you of what was coming.

Mikey’s hand slid down your neck, tracing your collarbone like he was mapping it from memory. His lips brushed your jaw, feather-light.

“You know how we feel when someone else thinks they have a chance with you?”

“I don’t belong to them,” you whispered.

He smirked. “Damn right you don’t.”

Kakucho’s other hand moved to your hip, pulling you flush against him from behind. “Then let us remind you how it feels to be ours.”

Mikey kissed you then — slow but with growing heat, like he wanted to pull the truth from your mouth and keep it for himself. His tongue slid against yours, fingers threading into your hair. You melted into it, only for a gasp to escape as Kakucho tugged down the zipper of your dress, baring your back to his touch.

“Pretty,” he muttered against your shoulder. “You wore this for someone else?”

You shook your head.

“Say it,” Mikey growled softly.

“I wore it for you,” you breathed.

“For us,” Kakucho corrected, slipping the fabric off your shoulders. “Say it properly.”

You moaned softly as Mikey’s teeth grazed your neck. “I wore it for you both. Only you.”

The dress hit the floor.

Mikey stepped back just slightly, eyes drinking you in like something holy — like something his. His voice dropped low.

“On the couch.”

Your knees nearly gave out.

You turned, but Kakucho caught your wrist first, guiding you down onto the leather couch. Mikey followed, climbing over you, mouth meeting yours again — hungrier now. His hands roamed freely, possessive in a way that made your breath stutter. Kakucho knelt behind you, one hand sliding between your thighs, the other at your waist.

They didn’t rush.

That was the worst part.

They touched you like they had all the time in the world. Like they wanted to make a memory of every moan, every arch of your back, every whispered apology tangled in pleasure.

Mikey’s lips were at your chest, Kakucho’s breath hot against your shoulder as he whispered:

“We don’t want to hear you say sorry.”

“We want to hear you beg,” Mikey added, sinking lower.

Their hands, their mouths, the way they worshipped every inch of you — it was overwhelming. You couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. Your name on their tongues sounded like praise and punishment all at once.

And when you broke — shuddering, crying out their names, shaking between them — they didn’t stop.

Kakucho kissed your spine, murmuring against your skin. “Look how perfect you are like this.”

“Like you’re meant to be here,” Mikey said, brushing your hair back as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You were ruined. Reminded. Revered.

And if you even thought about looking at another man again… you knew exactly what would happen.

___________________________________________________________________________

Can’t Move? Good

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the quiet.

The kind of silence that settled deep into your bones — soft and heavy, but not peaceful. You could hear the hum of the city through the open window, but it was distant. The faint rustle of the sheets beneath you felt loud in the stillness.

You tried to stretch.

A mistake.

A sharp ache burned through your muscles, and your body screamed in protest, every inch of you sore, exhausted. You stifled a groan, eyes squeezing shut. Your skin was still tingling, and the marks they’d left on you felt fresh, raw.

How long had you been asleep?

Your room was empty. No Mikey’s wild platinum hair, no Kakucho’s quiet intensity, no Ran’s smirk or Rindou’s watchful eyes. No Sanzu’s playful chaos or Koko’s steady gaze.

Just you.

Alone.

The realization hit you like a wave, and you winced at the thought. You shifted on the bed, but the soreness made you hiss, your muscles pulling and protesting.

Just then, the door creaked open.

Your heart skipped a beat as Mikey stepped in, his casual yet predatory presence filling the room. His eyes locked onto you immediately, and he smirked at the sight of you lying there, tangled in the sheets, your body a little too still.

“You look like you’re having a hard time moving,” Mikey said, his tone teasing, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes — something darker. Possessive.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Kakucho stepped in just behind Mikey, his gaze softer, more concerned.

“Hey, you okay?” Kakucho asked, voice unusually gentle as he made his way to the edge of the bed. His eyes ran over you carefully. “You’re in pain, aren’t you?”

You gave a small nod, cheeks flushing. “I’m… I’m fine,” you said weakly, but your voice betrayed you. “Just a little sore.”

Kakucho reached out, his large hand brushing your cheek softly. “You pushed yourself too hard.” His expression softened. “But that’s okay. You don’t need to do anything today. Just relax.”

The door opened again, and in walked Ran, followed by Rindou. Ran’s gaze flicked over to you, and a wicked grin spread across his face.

“You are a little sore, aren’t you, baby?” Ran purred, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his finger tracing the curve of your bare arm, his eyes never leaving your face. “We had quite the time, didn’t we?”

Rindou’s eyes softened as he sat down beside you on the other side. His hand immediately rested on your waist, fingers brushing over your skin possessively. “Couldn’t stop you, could we?” he said with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You liked it too much.”

Sanzu popped his head in from the doorframe, looking all too amused. “Look at her. So cute and wrecked.” He sauntered over to the bed, sitting on the edge and brushing your hair back from your face. “We’re gonna have to take care of you today, huh?”

Koko stepped in last, a quiet presence, but his eyes burned with a quiet intensity. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said softly. His voice was steady, calm, but the weight of his words lingered in the air. “You’re staying with us.”

You blinked, overwhelmed by the way they filled the room. It wasn’t just the physical ache that made your chest tighten. It was the way they watched you — like you were their whole world. Like you belonged to them.

"Can’t move, huh?" Mikey asked, a smile playing at the corner of his lips as he leaned down to brush his lips lightly against your forehead. “Good. You’re exactly where you should be. Let us take care of you.”

Kakucho gently laid you back against the pillows, his hand resting on your side as he smoothed his thumb over your skin, his gaze filled with a quiet tenderness. “No more running off. You don’t need to. We’re here, babe.”

You gave a tired, helpless sigh. “I wasn’t trying to run off,” you murmured, the words a bit of a whine. “I just wanted a little time…”

“A little time?” Ran’s voice was playful, but there was something possessive underneath it. “You don’t get time away from us, darling. Not after everything.”

“I thought we taught you a lesson,” Rindou added, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your waist. “We share you. All of us.”

Sanzu grinned, leaning in closer to your face. “You’re ours now. All day. Every day.” He let out a small, teasing chuckle. “And we don’t let our darling out of bed until we’re sure you’re fully ours again.”

Your heart skipped. “I’m yours,” you whispered, closing your eyes, leaning into their touches. “All of you.”

Koko nodded, his voice low but firm. “Good girl.”

There was a moment of silence as they all watched you, and then Mikey spoke, voice still low, but now with a touch of softness. “You’ve got us wrapped around your little finger, you know that?”

You tried to respond, but your words got caught in your throat, your head spinning. You were sore — but satisfied. In a way, you weren’t sure if you could ever really escape them, even if you wanted to.

But truth be told?

You didn’t want to.

And that thought was both terrifying and thrilling.

___________________________________________________________________________

You woke up to silence again, the kind of stillness that was far too quiet for Bonten's usual chaos. Your body ached in ways you hadn’t anticipated, muscles sore from the intensity of the past few days. You felt like you’d been used—loved too much, consumed completely. But there was a sense of peace in it too. The kind of peace that came with the knowledge that you belonged to them now. All of them.

The warmth of the sheets felt comforting, but the soreness made it hard to stay still for long. As soon as you shifted, the sharp pull of muscles made you groan softly, your body protesting at even the slightest movement.

But then you heard footsteps.

The door creaked open, and there was Mikey, his face softened by sleep but with a smirk already tugging at his lips.

"Morning, princess," he said, his voice laced with that soft dominance of his. "You awake, or do I have to drag you out of bed?"

You squinted at him through tired eyes, a grin threatening to curl at your lips. “I think I’m better off staying here.”

Mikey chuckled and moved closer, his hand brushing through your hair as he knelt beside the bed. “Mm, no way. You're not staying in bed all day. I’ll carry you, if I have to.”

Before you could protest, Mikey easily scooped you up, cradling you against his chest as though you weighed nothing. Your body melted into his warmth, and the softness of his hold made the soreness more bearable. His lips brushed against the top of your head as he gently placed a kiss there.

“Let’s get you dressed, baby,” he murmured, taking you to the closet where he selected one of his oversized shirts for you to wear. The fabric was soft, enveloping you in a comforting, familiar scent. You couldn’t help but lean into him as he gently pulled it over your head, smoothing it down over your body with delicate care.

You were still groggy, but Mikey’s hands never left you, always making sure you were comfortable as he helped you into your clothes. He was always so gentle with you — a side to him that only you got to see. When he was finished, he swept you up again in his arms and carried you out of the room.

Next, it was Kakucho’s turn. He was already waiting for you in the living room, his gaze soft as he saw you in Mikey’s arms. He didn't say anything at first, just smiled at the sight of you snuggled up against Mikey.

“I’ll take over from here,” Kakucho said with a nod, his voice warm and caring.

Mikey handed you off to Kakucho, his strong arms still lingering on you for a moment before Kakucho gently settled you into his embrace. His movements were smooth, practiced, as he lifted you with ease. Kakucho’s calm presence enveloped you, and you couldn’t help but relax in his arms as he walked you to the couch.

“Comfortable?” he asked, settling you down gently before draping a soft blanket over your legs. His fingers brushed your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "I’m not letting you get up for anything today. You just relax."

You nodded, feeling your muscles loosen under his gentle touch. "I’m okay, Kaku," you whispered, your voice soft from the exhaustion.

His lips quirked into a smile, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. "Of course you are. But I’m still making sure you don’t move. You need rest."

As he made sure you were comfortable, Ran entered, his usual cocky grin on his face. He wasn’t one to show softness, but there was something different about the way he looked at you — the way he couldn’t help but check that you were okay.

“Need a little more attention, princess?” he teased, walking over to you with that wicked grin. His gaze softened as he saw you resting on the couch, looking completely worn out. “Alright, I’ll let you get some rest… for now.”

He plopped down on the couch next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the comforting strength of his body against yours. His fingers absentmindedly ran through your hair, and you could feel the tension in your muscles start to melt.

"I’m not letting you go anywhere today,” Ran murmured, leaning his head against yours. “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Time passed slowly as the day wore on, the other members of Bonten taking turns making sure you stayed pampered, relaxed, and well taken care of. Rindou was next, stepping into the room with his usual intensity, though he softened at the sight of you.

“Need a change of scenery?” he asked, lifting you effortlessly from the couch as though you weighed nothing. He held you against his chest, his strong arms securing you gently as he carried you to the kitchen. “You’ve been resting long enough. Let me feed you something.”

The others watched, a quiet pride in their eyes as Rindou helped you settle into a chair and made sure you had everything you needed, from food to water. It wasn’t just about feeding you physically — it was about taking care of you, in every way.

By late afternoon, Sanzu barged in, his playful grin lighting up the room. “Alright, darling, time to move again!” He was practically bouncing with excitement, unable to resist the chance to carry you.

“Sanzu, I’m fine,” you protested weakly, but his mischievous grin only grew wider.

“Nah, you’re staying with me.” Before you could argue, Sanzu scooped you up effortlessly, tossing you over his shoulder in the same way he did when he was in one of his hyper moods. “You’re too cute to just leave in one place all day.”

You laughed softly at his antics, even as your sore muscles protested the movement. But with Sanzu, it was different. He always made you feel alive, despite the exhaustion. His hands were gentle as he held you, but you could feel his possessiveness in the way his grip never wavered.

As the day turned into evening, you found yourself back in the meeting room where Bonten’s business would unfold. By now, the soreness in your muscles had dulled into a kind of lingering ache, but you were still so tired.

Koko, ever the calm one, approached and lifted you into his arms effortlessly, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. “You don’t need to be awake for this, you know,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Just relax. You’ve earned it.”

You let out a small sigh, resting your head against Koko’s chest as he carried you to the meeting room. You were laid gently on the large couch at the back of the room, where you could still watch the deal unfold, but you didn’t have to be involved in the negotiations.

Mikey, Kakucho, and the rest of the crew took their seats, their eyes never straying far from you. They might have been in the middle of a business deal, but it was clear they were still watching over you.

The room was filled with the low murmur of voices as deals were made, plans discussed, and power exchanged. You felt the weight of their gazes on you every so often, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, you felt safe. Wanted. You were their darling — in every sense of the word.

In the silence, you pulled out your phone and opened a video you had saved earlier, your lips curling into a smile at the ridiculousness of it. A puppy attempting to howl, failing miserably and making you snicker quietly.

Koko caught the sound of your soft laughter and raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?” he asked, amused.

“It’s just a silly puppy video,” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the mood.

Sanzu leaned over, looking at the video on your phone, and his laughter joined yours. “That’s adorable,” he said, his usual playfulness returning. “I think we’re the ones who should be howling after last night.”

You snickered at his words, feeling the warmth of their presence all around you, even as the meeting continued.

Mikey, from across the room, turned toward you, catching your eye. “See? Even after all of this, you can still laugh. That’s our girl.”

You settled back against the cushions, your eyes fluttering closed, but you didn’t mind. Even as Bonten handled their business, you knew you were surrounded by the men who would never let you go.

___________________________________________________________________________

The meeting room was filled with the low hum of voices, a business deal being struck between Bonten and a client you didn’t quite recognize. The men were sharp, attentive, their eyes never leaving the discussions as the room shifted with tension and control. But amidst the serious talks, you were tucked away in the corner, completely relaxed, cocooned in a soft blanket that kept you warm.

You hadn't moved much since being carried into the room earlier. Your body still ached from the past few days, but there was a lingering comfort in the fact that you didn’t have to lift a finger. The men of Bonten had seen to that, their eyes constantly on you, their hands never straying too far from your form. You were theirs, and they made it clear, even in the midst of business.

The marks from the nights before were still visible on your neck — faint bruises, hickeys, reminders of how thoroughly they had claimed you in every sense. Every time you shifted, the soft fabric of the blanket brushed over your skin, and you caught sight of those marks, almost as if they were proof of what you meant to them. And, somehow, it made you smile, despite the ongoing meeting.

Mikey, ever the one to watch you from afar, sat at the head of the table, but his eyes flickered to you every so often. Kakucho was by his side, quiet but always vigilant, his gaze drifting to you as he made sure you were at ease. Ran was leaning back in his chair, his hand resting casually on the back of his neck, but his sharp eyes were also on you. And then there was Sanzu, always with that playful grin, watching you with more warmth than he let on.

They knew you were exhausted, and they had no intention of letting you lift a finger. They were protective, possessive — but in a way that felt safe and loving. Even now, as they were discussing the deal, you felt their eyes linger on you, ensuring you were comfortable. It was as though the room wasn’t just filled with business, but with a strange, simmering energy — an energy that was both quiet and charged.

You pulled your phone out, slipping your headphones in, choosing to distract yourself with videos or music. The soft noise from the world outside faded as you settled into the cushion of the sofa, the blanket around you, and the comfort of the boys’ presence. Your fingers scrolled absentmindedly, and you snickered at a funny video, your body relaxing further into the sofa as the soothing sounds of your music filled your ears.

The client, who had been speaking to Mikey just a few moments ago, seemed to take notice of your presence, his eyes drifting toward you. There was a moment of silence in the room as he studied you, probably unaware of the true nature of your relationship with Bonten.

He cleared his throat, then, with a slightly mocking tone, leaned back in his chair and gave a stupid chuckle. “Well, I didn’t realize Bonten’s got a little… decoration in their meetings now. How nice,” he said, nodding toward you. “Guess I’ll have to get myself one of those, huh?”

The comment was unprofessional and utterly out of place, but none of the Bonten members reacted immediately. Mikey’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Kakucho’s jaw clenched for a moment, but neither of them spoke. The tension in the room shifted, becoming thicker as they all silently assessed the situation. They were all aware of the marks on your neck, and none of them would stand for anyone making light of you.

But you didn’t hear it.

You were lost in the world of your music, the beat of the song pulsing in your ears, and the video playing on your phone was enough to make you forget the world around you. Your mind was too absorbed in the small things — the little moments of laughter, the absurdly cute puppy trying to howl. The world outside you felt far away, and that was exactly what you needed. The pressure of the Bonten world, of the deal happening in front of you, felt light as a feather, drifting past you without consequence.

Sanzu was the first to break the silence, his grin not quite hiding the edge of warning in his voice. “I wouldn’t joke about that, pal,” he said, his tone low but laced with that signature playfulness. "You don’t know who you’re talking to.”

The client looked slightly taken aback, clearly not understanding the gravity of the situation. He chuckled nervously, trying to brush off the tension, but he realized his mistake a little too late. "I-I didn’t mean anything by it, really."

Ran leaned forward, his sharp eyes locking onto the client. “You should be careful where you make your jokes, yeah? You’re in Bonten’s territory now. That,” he said, motioning subtly toward you, "Isn't something to joke about. You're lucky she didn’t hear you. If that smile of hers drops even a centimeter, I’ll have your body burned to ash."

The client immediately stilled, the tone of the room shifting once more. Bonten had a reputation, and even if the client hadn’t been fully aware of who you were or your place in their lives, it was made crystal clear now. They didn’t just protect you. They owned you, and anyone who made light of that would pay the price.

The shift in atmosphere was palpable, and while you remained blissfully unaware, the men of Bonten didn’t miss a thing. They knew how to handle situations like this — with authority, with strength, and with the kind of chilling control that only they could command.

Koko’s gaze flickered toward you for a brief moment before returning to the discussion, his expression softening. He didn’t need to speak; his protective nature was enough. His arms crossed in a quiet show of authority, and it was clear he was ready to step in if necessary.

The client, realizing his mistake, sat quietly in his chair, now avoiding your presence entirely. The rest of the meeting went by in a blur, with the Bonten members handling the deal smoothly. But the whole time, their eyes were on you — Mikey's possessive gaze lingering on you when he wasn't speaking, Ran leaning in with subtle concern as he made sure you were still comfortable, and Sanzu’s playful grin now laced with a quiet warning, ensuring no one would dare disrespect you again.

You continued to relax in the blanket, your headphones in, unaware of the tension that had simmered under the surface. The soothing music and your videos kept you grounded in your own little world, where nothing could touch you — not even the misstep of a foolish client.

As the meeting began to wrap up, Mikey’s voice broke through your haze, calm but with that commanding undertone. “Alright, deal’s done,” he said, making a final motion toward the door. “Let’s wrap this up. We’ve got other things to handle.”

You were oblivious to the final exchange, but your world remained soft, the blanket still warm around you, the music still playing, and the protection of the men who cared for you lingering in the air like a silent promise.

___________________________________________________________________________

The room had cooled down with the departure of the client, the air now thick with an unspoken intensity. The business deal was wrapped up smoothly, but there was still a lingering edge of possessiveness in the air. You were their precious, and even the slightest hint of disrespect didn’t go unnoticed. It didn’t matter who you were or how well you knew the Bonten crew — if anyone dared to make you feel less than revered, they’d regret it.

The client, having misstepped, was long gone, and the meeting had officially ended. But Mikey, Kakucho, Ran, and the others had yet to break their gaze from you, their concern still palpable. They knew you hadn’t heard the inappropriate comment, but they were all keenly aware that their precious darling was vulnerable, in more ways than one. And no one could be left feeling that way under their watch.

Mikey was the first to make his move. As the meeting dissolved, he stood and walked over to you, the smooth glide of his footsteps marking his approach. His hand reached out for your headphones, gently pulling them from your ears. You blinked up at him, your face still slightly flushed from your earlier rest.

“Princess,” Mikey said, his voice soft but firm, his gaze intense as he took a seat beside you on the couch. His fingers brushed against your cheek, lingering there for just a moment. “You’re alright, aren’t you? You didn’t hear any of that, did you?”

You tilted your head, confused by his sudden seriousness. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Kakucho, who had been standing nearby, stepped closer as well, his calm presence radiating around you. He looked down at you, his usual quiet intensity now mixed with a touch of softness. “The client. He said something out of line,” he said, his tone controlled but with a sharp edge beneath it. “But don’t worry, we took care of it.”

You nodded, still feeling the remnants of sleep tugging at you. “I didn’t hear anything… just the videos and the music.”

“That’s fine,” Mikey said, his fingers slipping through your hair as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “We’ll keep you in the loop, baby. No one’s ever going to disrespect you again, not on our watch.”

You felt a shiver of comfort at his words, and his kiss was enough to remind you of the bond you shared. It wasn’t just about the physical; it was about their protection, their love, and the constant reassurance that they would always stand guard for you.

Kakucho stood up, his hand lingering on your shoulder as he addressed the rest of the group. “It’s been a long day. Let’s let her rest, yeah? She’s earned it.”

Ran gave a small nod, his usual cocky smirk tempered by a hint of softness. He approached you, crouching down to your level with that sly grin of his. “I think she deserves something more than just a blanket,” he said, his voice teasing. “What do you say, princess? Want me to carry you again? Or maybe one of the others?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his playful tone, your eyes narrowing as you thought about it. “You all spoil me.”

“That’s the idea,” Ran said, his lips curling into a smile as he easily lifted you into his arms once again, cradling you against his chest. “You’re our darling. You’ve got to be pampered.”

Rindou had been quiet up until then, but his eyes softened as he stepped toward you. His hand brushed against your cheek, a fleeting touch, before he spoke. “Don’t ever doubt how much we care for you. You’re ours.”

There was something unspoken in his voice, something deeper that made you feel the weight of his words. Rindou was rarely openly affectionate, but his feelings for you were undeniable. And it was in moments like these — when he was tender and careful — that you could truly understand the depth of his devotion.

Sanzu, ever the troublemaker, couldn’t help but let his usual energy slip through, despite the situation. He leaned in, his grin wide as he met your gaze. “You know, darling,” he said, “I think you’re getting too used to being spoiled by us. We might have to reel it in a little.” He chuckled, but there was warmth in his voice that softened the playfulness. “But if you want more attention, we’ll give it to you. No complaints.”

You leaned into Sanzu’s touch, his playful teasing a comfort rather than an annoyance. He was always there to lighten the mood when it got too serious, and in the midst of all the possessive care you were receiving, it felt like a welcome balance.

Koko, however, was the last to approach, his usual cool demeanor never faltering. But when his eyes met yours, there was an undeniable tenderness there. He approached slowly, gently, and without a word, he bent down to lift you into his arms. He didn’t need to say anything — his actions spoke louder than words. He carried you carefully to a different part of the house, a softer, more private corner, where he sat with you on a chair and pulled the blanket around you tighter.

“You should rest, baby,” Koko murmured, brushing your hair away from your face. “We’ll take care of everything for you. All you need to do is relax.”

As the night wore on, you were passed between the Bonten members, each of them taking their turn to keep you close, to care for you, to pamper you. It was a delicate balance of softness and possession, and you had never felt more cared for in your life. Their attention never wavered, their eyes always on you, making sure you were safe, comfortable, and at ease.

The day had been long, but you were safe within their walls — a place where no one would dare touch you or say a word against you.

After all, they weren’t just your lovers. They were your protectors, and no one could ever threaten that.

As the last of the evening wore on, Bonten gathered in the meeting room once again, where a new deal was being discussed. You had drifted off to sleep in the quiet corner, the blanket wrapped securely around you. The soft hum of their voices filled the air, but you were at peace, knowing that you were the center of their world.

The soft glow of a nearby lamp illuminated the room as Mikey stepped forward, his eyes lingering on you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “We’ll make sure you’re always safe, baby. We promise.”

The room fell silent for a moment as they all looked at you, their expressions a mix of possessiveness, pride, and devotion. They may have been ruthless businessmen on the outside, but when it came to you, they were nothing short of loving — protective, possessive, and incredibly devoted.

You were theirs, and nothing in the world could change that.

__________________________________________________________________________

It had been a long while since the members of Bonten had agreed to take a night off — no business meetings, no missions, no threats hanging over their heads. Just a quiet night, and you.

The city was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights as you stepped out into the cool evening air. The usual bustle of the world around you seemed to fade, and in that moment, it was as if time slowed just for the six of you. You were the center of their attention, and they were eager to enjoy this rare moment of peace.

Mikey led the way, his usual casual confidence on full display, but his eyes held a softer, more affectionate glint as he glanced back at you. He’d decided on a cozy, rooftop restaurant with an amazing view of the city, far from the prying eyes of the public or Bonten’s usual business associates. Tonight was about you, and nothing else.

"Ready for a night just for us?" Mikey asked with a gentle smile, holding the door open for you.

You smiled back, nodding. "I’ve been waiting for this."

Ran, ever the charmer, draped his arm over your shoulder as you stepped inside, his smirk as playful as ever. "You know, we’re all just here to spoil you tonight, right? Don’t get used to it," he teased, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"Is that so?" you chuckled, leaning into him slightly. "You all are just so sweet."

"Oh, we know," Ran grinned, squeezing you briefly before stepping back. "Let’s make this a night to remember."

Kakucho had been quiet up until then, his usual calm presence steady as ever. But as he caught your gaze, a flicker of warmth passed over his face. "If you need anything tonight, just let me know," he said softly, guiding you to the table where the others were already seated. "I’ll make sure you’re comfortable."

Sanzu, of course, couldn't help but make his usual playful remarks, but his attention was always on you. He slid into the seat next to you with a grin, one hand casually resting on the back of your chair. "I’m gonna make sure Mikey doesn’t take all your attention," he said, his grin widening. "You’re gonna have to split your time with me."

Koko, always the quiet protector, watched from across the table, but there was something in his eyes that spoke volumes — a rare moment of warmth, reserved just for you. He was usually the one who kept things grounded, and tonight, that remained true. He leaned in slightly, his voice soft as he spoke to you. "It’s good to have a night like this. No business. No danger. Just us."

You felt your heart flutter a little at the simple affection, at the way they all seemed to shift their energy to make sure you felt cherished.

As the night went on, each of the members found subtle ways to vie for your attention, spoiling you in their own unique ways. Mikey was always the one with the gentle words, making sure you were enjoying the meal and the company. He leaned in close, speaking with soft laughter about past moments together, and you found yourself getting lost in his eyes.

Ran kept his arm draped over the back of your chair, occasionally teasing you with light comments about your outfit or the way you smiled. Every now and then, his fingers would brush against your arm or side in a way that made you feel like the most important person in the room.

Kakucho was the one who took care of the little things — refilling your glass of water when it got low, adjusting your chair when you shifted, always making sure you were comfortable. There was a quiet protectiveness in his gestures, as though he couldn’t stand the thought of you feeling anything less than content.

Sanzu, of course, was the playful one, always nudging you with his knee under the table or making you laugh with his exaggerated stories. He’d get a little closer with every sentence, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in to whisper something funny, making you snicker. He loved making you smile, and tonight, he was pulling out all the stops.

Koko, while not as overt in his affection as the others, showed his care in the way he kept his eyes on you, checking in occasionally to make sure you were feeling good. His rare smiles and soft touches — like when he reached out to adjust a strand of hair behind your ear — made you feel secure, knowing that even in a moment like this, he was there, watching over you.

As the evening wore on, the conversation drifted to lighter topics, the kind of things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things — but mattered to the six of you. You laughed about silly things, memories of past dates or the ridiculousness of some of Bonten's more dramatic situations.

After dinner, they insisted on taking a walk through the city, just the six of you. It was calm, peaceful — a side of Bonten you rarely saw. Mikey held your hand, his fingers tracing over yours as you walked, and every now and then, Sanzu would make some offhand comment that had you laughing. Ran kept his arm around your shoulders, his hand brushing your arm as he spoke about some trivial thing in his usual charismatic way. Kakucho and Koko walked a few steps ahead, always scanning the surroundings, but you could see the soft smiles they exchanged whenever they looked at you.

The night was winding down, and you found yourself in a small park, the glow of the streetlights reflecting off the soft mist that had begun to rise in the cool air. You found a bench, and before you could sit down, Mikey was there, pulling you gently onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m glad we did this,” Mikey murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’s been too long since we’ve had a night just like this.”

You snuggled into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "I don’t think I’ve ever felt so loved."

Ran chuckled softly, sliding in next to you. "That’s the point, princess. You deserve all of it."

Sanzu sat beside you, a playful glint in his eyes. "I think we should do this more often, don’t you?"

You smiled, feeling the warmth of their love surround you. “Maybe,” you whispered, “but you guys spoil me too much.”

The night felt like a dream — a gentle reminder of how deeply they cared for you, of the tenderness they reserved just for you. It was a night free of business, free of the stress that came with their work, and for once, it was all about you — your happiness, your comfort, your love.

As you leaned back, listening to the sounds of the city around you, you felt a contentedness you hadn’t felt in a long time. No matter what happened, no matter the chaos Bonten often brought, this moment, this quiet intimacy, would remain. You were theirs, and that was more than enough.

___________________________________________________________________________

The night had been perfect. After the peaceful, intimate date with the Bonten members, you found yourself back at the safehouse. The quiet hum of the city below was the only sound you could hear, and it felt like everything in the world was just right.

Mikey closed the door behind him softly, eyes flickering to you as he tossed his jacket onto the back of a chair. He approached you slowly, a warm, affectionate smile on his face, his eyes soft as he reached for your hand.

"How are you feeling?" Mikey asked, his thumb tracing over your knuckles. "Relaxed?"

You nodded, leaning into him as he gently led you toward the bedroom. "I’m feeling really good, actually. That was a perfect night."

The others, who had followed in behind you, weren’t far behind. Ran immediately made himself comfortable on the bed, leaning back with a lazy smile, his eyes glinting as he looked at you. “You looked stunning tonight. You’re lucky we managed to stay so calm.”

Sanzu chuckled as he dropped onto the bed next to Ran, nudging him lightly. "Yeah, barely," he added with a grin. "But seriously, I’m glad we did this for you."

Kakucho quietly closed the door behind him, watching you as if making sure you were still comfortable and relaxed. He moved to the dresser, grabbing a fresh set of clothes for you before making his way over. "I’ll help you get changed," he offered, his voice calm and steady, as always. "You’ve earned a peaceful night’s sleep."

Koko, ever the quiet one, stood off to the side, observing. His arms were crossed, but the warmth in his gaze was unmistakable. He looked at you with something softer than his usual stoic nature. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask. We’re all here.”

You smiled, feeling the weight of their care surrounding you. The room felt so calm, and it was almost as though they could read your mind — everyone knew exactly what you needed, even if it was just something small like this.

Mikey sat down on the bed, pulling you down gently to sit next to him. "You looked so good tonight, babe," he murmured, one hand resting on your waist as he leaned in, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I can’t stop thinking about how lucky I am that you’re with us."

You blushed a little, your heart swelling with affection. "I’m the lucky one," you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder. "Tonight was perfect."

Ran leaned up on his elbow, his usual mischievous smile softer than usual. He met your gaze, his voice quieter, "I agree. You’ve got us wrapped around your finger, huh?" He chuckled lowly, running a hand through his hair. "But you deserve it. You really do."

You laughed lightly, the sound of it ringing softly through the room. "You guys spoil me."

"Oh, we know," Sanzu replied with a grin, his eyes twinkling. "And we’re going to keep doing it, too. But for now, you should rest." He moved closer, his hand resting on your thigh as he spoke. "Let us take care of you."

Kakucho’s eyes softened as he reached out, gently cupping your cheek. "I’ll help you change," he repeated, his calm tone always so reassuring. "You can just relax and let us take care of you for the night."

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his touch as he helped you slip out of your dress, replaced by one of the oversized shirts from the closet — likely one of theirs, knowing how they liked to leave their clothing for you. Mikey watched, his expression full of adoration, while Ran simply grinned.

"That’s much better," Mikey murmured, brushing his thumb against your lips as he gazed down at you with soft, loving eyes. "Now you look just right."

Once you were dressed comfortably in the oversized shirt, Koko finally moved closer, his usually distant demeanor softening even further. He approached you slowly, his gaze steady and calm. "You should rest now," he said, his voice like a quiet command wrapped in affection. "We’ll keep you company. No need to worry about anything."

The others crowded around you as you lay back on the bed, Mikey beside you, Ran teasing with playful words, Sanzu cracking jokes, Kakucho still keeping an eye on you, and Koko silently keeping watch. Each of them seemed to have a special way of ensuring your comfort, whether it was through words or their gentle presence.

As the minutes ticked by, they all made sure to settle in around you, making sure you had everything you needed. You found yourself sinking deeper into the soft mattress, feeling safe and completely taken care of by them.

Mikey lay beside you, his hand resting protectively on your waist. "Rest, babe. We’ve got you."

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of their care surround you like a blanket. It wasn’t just the date that made you feel loved; it was the way they showed up for you in these quiet moments, the way they made you feel like you were the most important thing in their world.

You were about to drift off when Sanzu’s voice cut through the silence, teasing again as always.

"Don’t get too comfortable," he smirked. "We’re not done spoiling you yet. You’re gonna be pampered all night, sweetheart."

The room was filled with the sound of gentle laughter, the softest of touches, and the constant undercurrent of care they showed you. You were finally able to relax fully, knowing that for tonight, there was no chaos, no stress — just love, affection, and a rare moment of peace.

With a sigh of contentment, you finally let your eyes flutter shut, knowing you were safe and cherished. The members of Bonten were with you, and that was all that mattered.

___________________________________________________________________________

It had started as an ordinary day. You were out with the Bonten members for a casual trip to the city. Maybe you were running errands, shopping, or just enjoying some time together outside their usual high-stakes world. The streets were bustling with people, the noise of city life all around you, but it felt like a peaceful moment. That is, until things took a sudden, dangerous turn.

You were walking along a quiet alleyway, following Mikey as he pointed out some new art gallery he wanted to check out. The others were spread out in the group, but everything felt calm. It wasn’t long before you heard someone approaching from behind.

A man — seemingly out of nowhere — stepped directly into your path, blocking your way. He looked out of place, his dirty clothes and unkempt appearance making him stand out. His eyes locked onto you with an unnerving gaze, and before anyone could react, he made an inappropriate comment.

"Well, look at this. What do we have here? A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be walking around with a bunch of thugs. You should be with someone who knows how to treat you."

Your body stiffened at his words, the situation instantly making you feel uncomfortable. But before you could even say anything, Mikey’s voice cut through the air with a calm, almost chilling tone.

"Move out of the way," Mikey said, his voice low but commanding, an edge of warning in it.

The man laughed, clearly not taking the threat seriously. "What's the matter, pretty boy? Scared of someone like me?" He leaned in, invading your space, making you feel even more vulnerable.

Without warning, Ran stepped forward, his face a picture of calm yet dangerous authority. "You don’t want to do this," he said coolly, his gaze unwavering, as though he had dealt with this sort of thing countless times before.

But the man wasn’t backing down. He reached out, trying to grab your wrist, and that was the final straw.

The shift in atmosphere was immediate. It was like everything fell silent, except for the tense rhythm of everyone’s breathing.

Before you could even flinch, Kakucho was in motion. He grabbed the man’s arm with swift precision, pulling it away from you. The man stumbled back, caught off guard by the sudden force. Kakucho’s voice was a low growl. "Touch her again, and you’ll regret it."

Sanzu, who had been standing slightly behind you, was already next to your side, his presence protective and solid. He stood with his usual cocky grin, but the look in his eyes was anything but playful. "You heard them, buddy. You need to back off, or things will get ugly for you real quick."

Koko stepped closer as well, his voice smooth but icy. "This isn’t a negotiation. Leave now."

The man, realizing he was in over his head, hesitated. But it was clear that the Bonten members weren't about to let him cause any more harm. They were protecting you — without hesitation, without question. He seemed to register the danger too late and, with a final sneer, took a few steps back, turning to leave with a warning glare thrown in your direction.

Once he was gone, Mikey let out a breath, his posture relaxing slightly, though his eyes never left you. The atmosphere around you had shifted from tense to protective.

"You alright, darling?" Mikey asked softly, his voice filled with concern. He reached out to place a hand on your shoulder, checking that you were okay.

You nodded, trying to shake off the unease. Your heart was still racing, but his touch, his gentle words, made you feel grounded again. "Yeah… I’m fine. Thank you."

Sanzu, who was still standing close, gave you a playful nudge with his elbow. "That guy was an idiot," he muttered, though his tone was softer now, almost affectionate. "You okay, sweetheart?"

You couldn’t help but smile at him. "I am now, thanks to all of you."

Kakucho gave you a reassuring look, his usual quiet demeanor still holding the same level of care and concern. He gently placed a hand on your back, guiding you forward. "Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll make sure no one else gets any funny ideas."

Koko, always observant, was already on his phone, ensuring that the area was clear. His gaze lifted briefly, meeting your eyes. "You’re safe now. We’re not letting anything happen to you."

As the group continued walking, you felt the shift in the air — they were all on high alert, keeping a close eye on you. But the protective energy wasn’t just about keeping threats away. It was clear now that their affection and care for you were driving their every move. They weren’t just looking out for you because they had to — they wanted to. You were theirs to protect, to care for, and they wouldn’t allow anything to harm you.

_________________________________________________________________________

The moment you were back at the Bonten headquarters, the tension of the day finally started to ease. You were given some time to relax, and soon enough, the men were back to being their soft, affectionate selves. But there was an underlying vigilance in the way they interacted with you.

Ran pulled you onto the couch, wrapping his arms around you as you sat, making sure you were comfortable. "You don’t have to be scared," he murmured, kissing the top of your head softly. "We’ll always be here to protect you."

Mikey joined the two of you, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. "No one gets near you unless we say so. You’re ours to look after."

Koko sat nearby, his expression still a bit serious but his eyes soft with care. "We can handle whatever comes our way. You just focus on relaxing."

Sanzu, ever the playful one, rested his chin on your shoulder and grinned. "Next time someone like that shows up, I’m throwing them into a wall."

You chuckled softly, the humor easing the last of your tension. "Thank you, all of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You don’t have to worry about that," Kakucho replied from the corner, his voice calm and reassuring. "We’ll always be right here."

___________________________________________________________________________

Later that night, after the Bonten members had ensured you had everything you needed — whether it was comfort, food, or just time to unwind — they stayed close by. You couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude as you looked around at each of them.

Though they were men who lived in a world of danger and violence, they had shown you their truest selves. Gentle, protective, and deeply caring.

You leaned back into Mikey’s arms as he held you close, feeling the warmth of his presence. "I love you guys," you whispered, your heart full.

Mikey squeezed you tighter, kissing your forehead gently. "We love you too, sweetheart. And we’ll always keep you safe."

“you didn’t even say goodbye.”

bonten!ran haitani x fem!reader | angst, cheating

he doesn’t notice it at first.

too caught up in whatever haze he’s been living in — girls, smoke, deals, silence. your silence.

he thinks you’re just giving him space. thinks you’ll snap out of it like you always do. thinks it’s not a big deal.

you’d always loved him too much, hadn’t you?

and maybe that’s why he never thought you’d actually leave.

You shouldn’t have come to the meeting.

You knew the rules — “Kanto Manji doesn’t do ‘bring-your-girl-to-work’ day.” But you came anyway. Because someone tipped you off that something was going wrong, that Mikey was being cornered politically, that there were whispers of betrayal. You had to make sure he was okay.

But what you didn’t expect… was the look on his face when he saw you there — standing behind Sanzu, clearly out of place, clearly vulnerable in this room full of killers in white uniforms.

His eyes darkened instantly.

A/N: YES absolutely omg 😭😭 your request gave me LIFE. I had so much fun writing this—thank you for sending it in!! The Bonten boys are down bad for their assistant and it only gets more chaotic from here 👀💗 hope you enjoy!!

“Just the Assistant (Yeah, Right)”

Summary: You’re the assistant. That’s it. That’s all you’re supposed to be. But to Bonten? You’re everything—and they’ll kill anyone who tries to mess with you.

Feel free to ignore if you don’t feel like doing this one 😭 I know it’s lowkey weird.

Bonten with a soft gf!

Characters: rindou, ran, kaku, mikey, sanzu, kokonoi

fluff / no tw / wc: 900+

Note : no way it's so cute don't ever worry !! I love it, thank you sm ! I dispatched it between all the characters. I hope it's fine.

m.list | rules

Rindou never minded more than that the fact that you cry a lot. He loves it a lot and it makes him chuckle and laugh more than anything else. He's always there to wipe your tears away when you cry when the dog dies in the movies, or when you tear up at any inconveniences. You wear your heart on your sleeve, you're sensible, the opposite of him, and he cares and loves you for that.

Yet he's the first one to draw a radical line the second you get hurt, in any way, by someone. It's silly and fun until some abuse it and use it against you or to hurt you. He will find who did this, who made you cry and will burn their house down.

Sanzu sighs a lot when you decide something was wrong when he, in fact, didn't care. Yet his heart always skips a beat when he hears you speaking louder than you usually do, mad at people treating him poorly. He listens to you for a while before he finally steps in and holds your hands when he's feeling cheesy, or your elbows when he's a bit tired or high.

"Babe, it's really nothing. Don't worry yourself like that, you'll get wrinkles." He honestly makes you laugh every time, or at least confort you that he doesn't care about anyone's opinion besides yours. And oh how much you love and care for him everyday, he can't even doubt it. He wished you'd stop hurting yourself over things like this, but recognize that your sweet nature is definitely what he loves the most about you.

“say that again.”

kanto manjiro sano (mikey) x fem!reader

warnings: dark impulse mikey, possessiveness, threats

you don’t hear it.

but mikey does.

the moment it slips past the guy’s lips—careless, playful, stupid—something in him stills.

he was just a shadow in the back of the room a second ago. quiet. unreadable.

but now?

now he’s listening.

"—you seen that girl mikey’s always with? real cute. wonder if she’s as sweet in bed as she looks on his arm."

someone chuckles.

someone else whistles.

"bet she wouldn’t mind a guy who actually knows how to smile. mikey always looks half-dead. think she’d let me—"

hope it makes sense 😔😍🤺🤺

SAVE ME FROM MY WRITER'S BLOCK, ANON - HERE WE GO, NO MARIO. Hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting~!

pairing: bonten x fem!reader

warnings: mature language, misogynistic undertones (from another gang), implied violence, guns mentioned, reader is criminally oblivious (love that for her), guard-dog!bonten supremacy, sanzu gets his own warning lol and i think that's it.

notes: yall. can you believe i actually wrote this in one sitting? without stopping?? wild concept for me, haven't been able to do that in a good minute *knock on wood*, but i hope you enjoy! more stuff coming soon ♡

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @spacegirl05, @neverlandlostchild , @darks-pet-shadow, @captaincyberqueen

Upon the arrival of the recently developed organization, officially known as Kaiju, things already weren’t off to a great start. They were late, clocked at about twenty minutes past schedule. Excuses poured from them like a broken faucet, blaming their tardiness on traffic, which the members were willing to give the benefit of the doubt, some more than others. Then, they were unprepared. Scrambling about with their half-assed introduction mixed with a sloppily thrown together presentation, it was insulting at worst. 

Here they were, biggest in the game, offering an opportunity to help underground operatives make a name for themselves..and this is how they want to showcase their potential? Mikey waved it off when his number three voiced this flaw, merely chalking it up with inexperience–Everyone has to start somewhere, right? 

But. Finally came strike three. The one thing, the most damning thing they could’ve ever done to have mercy jump right out the window and straight to hell, was when one of their foolish members spoke ill of you.