just another blog to reblog

Mikey didn’t look how they last remembered, he looked…more kempt. His hair wasn’t greasily sticking to his forehead, it looked washed and combed. His clothes weren’t the usual loungewear, but a black suit that looked carefully ironed, not a crease in sight. Those dark circles under his eyes were still prominent, but he appeared more alive than they’ve ever seen him before; rested. But the greatest shock amongst the executives was the beautiful woman at his side, and the toddler tucked in his arms. The executives were an amalgamation of expressions, ranging from curiosity to disbelief, even passing staff shared the same confusion wondering if they were collectively hallucinating–Is the Manjiro Sano…smiling?  

Whatever it was you were saying to him, he soaked it up like a sponge, completely disregarding anything else around him. One would think you were just on a stroll in the park, unbothered by the atmosphere. It’s not until the three of you reached the end of the hall was the trance interrupted, Kakucho clearing his throat. You were the first to look away, finally noticing the assortment of eyes on you, intense and questioning. However, you didn’t break a sweat, greeting with warmth as you gave a friendly wave. “Ah, Hitto!”

Bonten’s number three visibly startled, especially when you approached and grabbed his hands. You continued, “It’s been so long! I’m so happy to see you’re still here, keeping things in order, no doubt. You look well.” 

Kakucho stared widely at you for a moment, however it doesn’t take him too long to connect the dots, his mind slowly peeling the layers of a buried memory until it reached realization. That voice, those kind eyes…his mouth dropped slightly in awe. “M-Miss [____]?” 

The revelation hits the rest of them like a brick. As if they weren’t already perturbed, one would think this was the second coming of Christ the way they all stared, some more affected than others. Sanzu had to cartoonishly rub his eyes to make sure he wasn’t tripping balls, Hanma sitting up straighter in his seat with gleaming yellow eyes, Koko nearly choking on his spit—You were alive, and you returned. And you didn’t come empty handed. Mikey’s soft gaze rendered cold when it shifted to appraise his team, a heavy contrast to his aura moments prior. He kissed his teeth, “Quit gawking like idiots. I told you I wouldn’t rest until I found her, didn’t I?” 

“Right..but…” Kakucho trailed off, struggling to voice his running thoughts. You chuckled, amused, of which snapped him from his stupor. He cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed as he released your hands to give a small bow. “Apologies. It’s great to see you back, Miss [____]. I, too, am happy you’re looking well.” 

The rest of them followed suit, not wanting to trigger dormant wrath within their leader. Any shred of disrespect would no doubt have them sent to the gulag in a body bag. However, the tension was broken when the little elephant in the room chirped, “Pink!” 

All eyes directed to the toddler as she pointed in Sanzu’s direction, beaming as if she made the declaration of the century. Your grin turned sheepish, shuffling back over to gently lower her hand, “Yes, honey, he has pink hair, but it’s not nice to point-”  

“Purple!” She used her other hand to point in another direction, this time at the Haitanis. The eldest waved his fingers at her while the youngest sweatdropped from the sudden attention. Mikey’s gaze softened once more as he looked at the little girl, smitten as he gently bounced her in his hold. 

“Such a smart girl, you are.” His soft praise instantly made her shy, turning to nuzzle in his neck as she giggled. The executives were once again flabbergasted, such paternal energy from their cold-hearted leader. But, it’s short-lived when his cold gaze zeroes in on them once more. Mikey addressed them with firmness, “This is Gemma. From here on out, her life is worth more than everyone in this entire organization combined. If anything happens to her, if one of you so much as upsets her while she’s in my care, you will pay with your teeth and limbs. Are we clear?”

Although mildly disturbed, there’s not a single utterance of defiance as they stiffly nodded. “Yes, boss.”

You shook your head, reaching up to gently pull his arm. “Excuse us for a moment..” Moving a little to the side, Mikey looked at you with a raised brow. You fixed him a look, “Why must you go to the extreme? There’s no need to threaten them, this is probably a lot for them to take in at once. It was for you, remember?”

Mikey frowned. Then muttered, “I’ve threatened them for much less.”

“Not my point. I’m just… Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, this isn’t exactly a daycare...”

“It will be today because I say so.” He replied while looking over his shoulder, loud enough for all of them to hear. They bristled, small noises of indignation leaving them, but no objections. Takeomi even reluctantly extinguished his cigarette. “Besides, this is better than some lousy daycare. Our daughter will be the safest she’s ever been with me. I’ll kill anything that dares to harm her, and so will they.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his use of the word ‘our’, it coming out so naturally that you completely disregarded the last part of his statement—what father wouldn’t kill for his child? With a defeated sigh, convinced by his conviction, you took off the diaper bag and bestowed it upon him like a rite of passage. He shouldered the bag with ease, still keeping Gemma snug on his other arm.

“Alright, I’ll leave it to you then.” You reached up to gently tease at your daughter’s pigtails to grab her attention. She peeked at you, beaming, as if so utterly happy to be in Mikey’s arms alone. You softly spoke, “Mama will see you later, sweetheart. Have fun with Papa and his friends, and be good for him, okay?”

She raised up and nodded firmly, “Mm!”

“That’s my little Gem,” you kissed her cheek, then turned to kiss Mikey on his. “Don’t cave and give her too many sweets, and remember her blanket during nap time. Call me if you need anything. I mean it, even if it’s trivial, I’ll come straight-”

Mikey cut you off by kissing your lips, deeply. One hand was placed on your lower back and the other held a giggling Gemma as she playfully covered her eyes. After a moment, he slowly pulled away to stare into yours, his obsidian gaze pulling you in like a black hole, one that you would happily fall into. His expression was relaxed as he softly spoke, “Thank you.”

You blinked at him, a bit dazed. “Wh.. why are you thanking me?”

He didn’t answer. Not right away, at least. Mikey took a second to study your face, soaking in your presence like he was before. It was like he wanted to make sure you were still real, and not a dream. The small twinkle in his eyes conveyed a thousand words, until he finally spoke, “For giving me another chance…”

You felt the heat creeping up into your face, biting your lip to contain your growing smile. “No need to thank me…I’m glad you were looking for one. See you at home?”

Home. It filled him with contentment knowing that finally he had one to go back to, after spending years searching for it; searching for you. Mikey undoubtedly rediscovered pieces of himself that made him whole again. Still jagged in some areas, some that don’t quite fit the same, but still whole. He hummed, nodding. “Absolutely.”

The executives continued to be mere spectators to the sight of their boss, ruthless and all, being rendered to a puddle as the two of you shared another few “goodbye kisses”. Hanma subtly grimaced, as did the majority, dreading the idea of being forced to babysit whilst juggling their regular tasks. But, with how seriously Mikey seemed to be taking this, it was…nice to see him actually want to put effort into something for a change. Even once you were good and gone, escorted back down by Kakucho, Mikey’s soft gaze didn’t falter as he cradled the little girl, carrying her into the meeting room. Sanzu slowly shut the doors behind him, cutting them off from the perplexed eyes of the staff–No explanation, no conclusion, left completely and utterly in the dark. 

There was a lot Mikey needed to be briefed on since his “week long vacation”, documents to be reviewed, and signed, many discussions to be had that left no more room for delay. 

“Papa, lookie, made it pretty!”

“Hm, you sure did. It needed some color, looked real boring before. Thank you, baby.” Mikey gazed fondly as Gemma scribbled all over one of his documents with blue pen, wonky doodles of smileys and flowers in every corner. Safe to say he wasn’t paying attention to anything that wasn’t the bubbly bundle in his lap. “Want to make one for mama?”

“Mm!” She nodded, already reaching for another document. Only this one was from Kokonoi’s pile. The white-haired male went to move it out of reach before her tiny hands nabbed it, but one look from Mikey was enough to for him to slide all of them her way without protest. “Thank you!”

“Tsk.” Mikey’s stare hardened. Koko stiffened. “You’re welcome…”

Gemma giggled, spreading the papers out across the table. The executives attempted to continue the meeting, occasionally interrupted by her babbles and squeals. Mikey watched on silently, only chiming in from time to time, too enthralled with the little Picasso and happily handing her more pens to use. When she was promoted to highlighters was when the real mess started.

“Oi, quit tryna draw on my hand, ya little-” Sanzu began with a hiss.

“You better keep it there until she’s done.” Was Mikey’s threat reply. The hand didn’t move an inch after that.

When Kakucho eventually returned, witnessing the lack of productivity, he commented, “Perhaps we could provide a little play area nearby-“

“Perhaps not.” Mikey was quick to shut it down.

“Boss, with all due respect, if this keeps up we’ll continue to fall behind. And Miss [_____] gave me instruction on her way out to not let you indulge her where it becomes a distraction.”

Mikey lifted his gaze to stare down his number three. “You conspired against me with my own wife?”

Despite the room growing a degree colder, Kakucho stood his ground. “No conspiring, sir. She merely voiced concern. Even if that means risk of bodily harm, I gave her my word not to let that happen. And with her being reunited with the organization…I presume that means her word is still law.”

Tension permeated the air. If not for the small sounds from Gemma as she colored, it would’ve been suffocating. No one dared to break it or butt in, focusing on other miscellaneous things around the room to avoid potential crossfire. However, there was no need to ready the bulletproof vests, Mikey being the first to relent with a deep sigh. As if no longer resembling that monstrous tyrant they know and fear, the executives had half a mind to think that their leader was…pouting.

“Fine, whatever. It’s almost her nap time anyway…”

Mikey gently plucked the highlighters from her, hoisting her up as he stood. Gemma gave a small whine in protest, “Nooo, no no no no..”

“Yesss,” he cooed in response, grabbing the diaper bag and her blanket before heading towards the connected room that worked as a spare office. It wasn’t much, but the couch in there would be more than enough space to work as a cot.

After Mikey briefly shut the door to assure quiet while he lulled his daughter to sleep, a collective sigh of relief overcame the group. Mochi eyed the third in command, suspiciously. “Did Miss [_____] really say that to you?”

“…More or less. What he doesn’t know won’t kill us.”

“Fuck you mean, ‘us’???”

“Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to participate?”

When you were called in for an impromptu parent-teacher conference, you already had an idea that it was regarding the incident involving your daughter, Rika, and a classmate. Turns out her threats held no weight, and Haruka snitched to his parents immediately. What you didn’t expect, however, was an ambush from the parents. How they found out when this meeting was taking place was beyond you and even the teacher, but they were there now, and there was no stopping their shared tantrum—no doubt that’s where the kid got it from.

“I figured saying anything at this point would be futile, given that you’ve interrupted me at least four times now-”

“You should be ashamed!”

You exhaled. “Five.”

“And over something so juvenile. Because of your daughter, my poor Haruka is traumatized.” Both you and Rika eyed the young boy smothered in her arms, noting not a scratch on him. But, that didn’t stop him from playing his part, appearing as pathetic as he possibly could. She gave a tearful glare at his smug little face.

The father, stick-in-the-ass himself, chimed in with a cold, “I hope you have a good lawyer. This violence against our son won’t go without consequence.”

You fought back an eye roll. Scare tactics such as that were laughable, especially in your line of work. Nothing they’ve said this entire time has been productive, no amount of reasoning would satisfy their thirst for vindication. The teacher, bless her heart, tried her best to mediate the tense situation, but was overshadowed at every attempt. “Please, we can discuss this in a civil manner, there’s no need for us to-”

“Oh, civil manner? Was our son treated in a civil manner?”

“This happened under your care, Ms. Kimura, you should be thankful we don’t have your job for allowing bullying to happen in your classroom.”

The back and forth continued, empty threats thrown left and right. Your daughter sniffled, visibly distraught as she clutched your blazer tightly in shame. You gently tucked hair behind her ear, looking down at her with a reassuring smile. You weren’t angry at her, not in the slightest. She confessed, and although she had good reason, Rika knew she was in the wrong. This whole ordeal was ridiculous in your opinion, they were just kids after all. You had planned to ride out the rest of the meeting in silence, letting those two wear themselves out until the teacher regained control. You had planned to remain calm and collected, for the sake of your child…

“I suppose we can’t put all the blame on the poor teacher, dear. I mean,” the mother released Haruka to crouch to Rika’s level, a condescending smile on her face. You stiffened, eyeing her incredulously. “I’d probably struggle having a little bastard in the bunch as well. Honestly, she-” 

By the time your mind caught up with your body, before rationale could resurface, before the angel on your shoulder could reel in the devil on the other, the woman’s jaw was already gripped in your hand. You squeezed, forcing a choked gasp to escape her lips, her eyes morphing from smug to fearful in a matter of seconds. The atmosphere shifted drastically, it was apparent in the murderous scowl that painted over your pristine facade, nostrils flared as you snuffed out professionalism in exchange for pure, unbridled contempt. She wanted your participation…now she’s got it. 

Standing from your seat, you towered over the woman with ease, forcing her to down to her knees. Her hands flew up to desperately pry at your wrist, whimpering and struggling to speak. The teacher, the father, Haruka, everyone bore witness to where exactly your daughter got her spunk. “You bitch. I let you run your mouth for half an hour, spewing nonsense, only because it was directed at me. But directing it at my daughter? I should cut out your tongue and feed it back to you.” 

“Mmfh!” The mother gave a muffled cry, horror written all over her face. The father, caught off guard, attempted to assert his authority once more.

“Unhand my wife this instant, y-you-!” He’s halted in his sentence and his tracks at your heated glare, practically rooting him to the ground. But, when the sliding door of the classroom opened with a rousing slam, resembling that of a gun going off, the father practically leapt behind the teacher using her frame as a shield. She peeked and gave a pointed look at the man over her shoulder. 

With the mother still caught in your iron grasp you swiftly turned your head to the noise, as did Rika. Through teary eyes, her face slowly lit up like Christmas when the figure entered the room, crying out a cheerful, “Pa! You came!” before jumping out of her seat and rushing towards him.

Your brow twitched. “Don’t call him that, Rika. Haitani. What the hell are you doing here?”

RAN strolled into the room with a calculated pace. "Well, sweetheart, it is a parent-teacher conference. Recent events would show that includes me now, don’t you think?” 

“Hardly. Leave.” 

“Aw, and miss all the fun?” He hummed, mirth in his eyes. Your fraying composure never failed to entertain him. However, in this instance, there was nothing to smile about. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, primal gaze shifting focus to the man still cowering behind the teacher. “Nah. Think I’ll stick around.” 

“I’ve got this under control, I don’t need backup.”

“Good thing I’m not here for you. I’m here for the little bastard.” He grinned, reaching down to pat Rika’s head as she clung to his leg. She smiled brightly up at him, spirits higher than before. “I’ll go if she wants me to.”

“No way! I want you to stay!” She cried, burying her face in his pants leg. You clicked your tongue, in annoyance or resignation, he’ll never know. But he didn’t care to find out, the girl’s declaration being all he needed. He couldn’t be bothered to hide his amusement.

“Hear that, mama? Guess I’m staying.”

“Call me that again and I’ll smite you.”

“Mm, looks to me you’re already preoccupied with someone else.”

You shot him a look, “I have no problem multitasking.”

Ran only reveled in it. “For me? How sweet.”

“Damn you-”

Haruka could only watch in disbelief. His mother was being rag dolled, his father was still cowering behind a woman half his stature, and said teacher looked mentally checked out to even consider intervening. This wasn’t at all going like how he thought it would.

His gaze soon directed to Rika, now her turn to sport a smug little grin. “Hmph. Told ya not to snitch.”

“Oi, Thing #1. Bring me a beer, would’ya?” 

“Yes, boss!” Hikaru saluted, dashed into the next room only to return shortly after. “Uh…what’s a beer?” 

SANZU rolled his eyes, looking at him from his spot on the couch. He vaguely pointed in a direction, “Those little glass bottles mommy likes to hide in the back of the fridge, probably behind the ketchup or some shit. You know what ketchup is, right?”  

“Yes, boss!” He saluted once more before heading for the kitchen. 

The pink-haired man looked back to find the second one staring back at him, matching cerulean eyes blinking eagerly, as if awaiting for his own task. He clicked his tongue, “Thing #2, go make sure he doesn’t drop it.”

“Yes, boss!” Kaoru saluted as well, giggling as he trailed after his brother. Plus, it was probably on the top shelf in the fridge, it was definitely a two-man job. Surely, they’ll figure it out.

The gangster had his feet kicked up on the table, arms spread out behind the couch as he made himself more than comfortable. It was almost like he never left, you pretty much kept the same style in terms of decorating. He was certain you still stashed liquor the same way, always finding silly ways to keep him from drinking you out of house and home. He caught on immediately in the past, but played along to make you think you were making a difference. And now, he was passing on the same knowledge to his offsprings. Circle of life, or whatever the fuck.

He could hear them hard at work, peeking over to see one taking the role of a stepping stool while the other stretched his arm to try and reach the back of the fridge. Sanzu pursed his lips, knowing this would be considered irresponsible, dangerous even…And you’d no doubt have his heart on a spit if anything happened to them.

Unluckily, his voice of reason came a bit too late.

You burst through the front door like a bat out of hell, panting and frantic, eyes wild as they searched around the room until they stopped on him. Sanzu stared back, expression blank, but posture stiffening ever so slightly. He watched as the gears turned in your head, battling between using your words or your fists, but in the end none of them won as your attention is drawn to movement in your peripheral, over to the sight of your children forming a human ladder in your kitchen. You shrieked, springing into action with a speed he’d never seen before, damn near flying across the room. Swiftly, you grabbed Hikaru just as his fingers grazed the beer bottle, then bent down to pick Kaoru off the floor. Crouching to their level, you assessed them both, checking for bruising or anything out of the ordinary.

Their shared giggles eased your worry a little, appearing to be in good spirits. Still, knowing they were alone with the likes of him, had you showed up a second later there’s no telling what could’ve happened. “Are you two alright?”

They nodded, Karou adding with a mischievous giggle, “Boss gave us a mission to get a beer! He told us your secret hiding spot.”

“And I was so close…” Hikaru pouted. “Mission failed…”

You embraced them tightly, exhaling deeply in relief and praying to whatever being in the sky for their safety. They hugged you back, blissfully unaware of your plight, just happy to see you happy. You sat there for a moment, basking in finally having them in your arms, fighting down a sob.

"How touching." The moment is stabbed. "Almost shed a tear."

Your head jerked in the direction of the sarcastic voice, you spoke through clenched teeth, “Turn around. And walk away. I’ll deal with you in a moment.”

“Oo, deal with me? What, ya gonna spank me? Put me in timeout?”

“Satan himself won’t be able to pry me off you if you don’t leave my sight. Living room. Now.”

Sanzu threw his hands up in mock surrender. He slowly backed off, scarred grin stretched wide. When you were alone once again, you took a moment to compose yourself before turning back to the confused gaze of your kids. Catching on to your shift in demeanor, it didn’t take long for them to realize something was wrong.

“Mama? You no like boss-man?”

“But he’s so cool!”

“No, no he’s not. He’s completely, totally, uncool. I don’t want you listening to anything else he says, or has said. What did mama tell you about talking to strangers?”

They exchanged looks, as if speaking telepathically. “But.. he’s not a stranger..”

“Yeah, he’s boss-man. He got us McDonald’s, and-and he said we don’t have to worry about weirdo Mr. Satoru anymore.” Hikaru scrunched his face, Karou nodding rapidly in agreement.

You stiffened. Oh, yeah. How could you forget?

With a huff, you fixed them with a stern look. “You heard mama. ‘Boss-man’ isn’t who he seems to be. You don’t know him like I do…”

“So you do know him, mama?”

“…Unfortunately.” You cringed.

“Then that means he’s not a stranger!”

You exhaled, exacerbated. “Look, the details aren’t important right now. All you two need to know is that mama doesn’t trust him. Now, I need you to go straight to your room and stay there until I say it’s okay to come out, understand?”

Worry filled their identical irises. “.. are we in trouble?”

You softened at the meek question. Reaching up to hug them to your chest, you cooed, “Of course not. You didn’t know, and that’s on mama…and your teacher. Mostly your teacher. But, everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”

They hugged you back tightly, nuzzling until you released them, sending them on their way. They didn’t dare look in Sanzu’s direction as they ran to their room, heeding your warning without protest with a loud slam of the bedroom door. You released a breath, carding your fingers through your hair. You stood up, rolling back your shoulders, steeling your nerves. As you turned to march into the living room, you’re halted in your tracks after almost colliding with his solid frame. Sanzu slowly clapped, eyeing you down. “Wow. You’re a real authoritarian around here. No wonder those two can’t think for themselves.”

You stumbled back, startled. Catching your footing, you glared. “I said to wait for me in the living room.”

“Tsk. You can bark orders all you want with them in the room, I’ll play along for show. But it’s just us now, doll. You ain’t got shit over me.”

“Aw, that so? Tell me, does Daddy Mikey know you’re out causing trouble without his permission?” His grin fades instantly. You have a sarcastic hum, “Can’t imagine his favorite lapdog being gone for this long would be pleasing to his majesty. You probably shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

He growled, “Watch your fucking mouth. Or that moron you used as my placeholder won’t have to worry about catching his breath chasing the twins. What I’ve got planned, he won’t need air.”

You pursued your lips. “What did you do to him?”

His grin returned. “Did you get our photo? Tried to get his good side, but…he didn’t have much of one after I was done with him.”

“This isn’t a game. He’s an innocent man, a good man, he doesn’t deserve this-”

“And who’s fault is that? Bringing him here, letting him sleep in your bed, acting like a father figure they don’t even want around. I did you a favor. He wasn’t any good.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. You’re a walking pharmacy with a criminal track record longer than your dick, a drinking problem and have horrible emotional regulation.” You stepped closer, shoving a finger in his chest. “You, the night I tried to tell you I was pregnant, were cross faded off God-knows-what, and cut me off mid-sob to answer a phone call from your boyfriend, then ditched me. I know what the fuck ‘No Good’ is, Haruchiyo, and you’ve been the sole winner of that title ever since you decided I was an afterthought.”

You shoved him. He didn’t move much, but it got your point across loud and clear. You continued, “I may have been okay with the scraps of attention you gave me back then, but I refuse to ever let you put me through that kind of isolation, and especially not to our kids. You don’t get to lecture me. You should be grateful I haven’t called the cops on your sorry ass. But knowing you, you’d probably slip away like the snake you are, you spineless son of a-”

Sanzu grabbed the back of your neck before you could even register the movement, pulling you forward and smashing his lips against yours. The force of the kiss and the overall suddenness sent you stumbling backward in shock, lips still attached, until eventually knocking into the fridge. He pressed you agaisnt the cool surface with his body, knee coming up to rest between your legs. One hand remained stationed behind your neck while the other gripped one thigh to hook it around his waist. While he directed the dance, you merely stood there stiff as a statue, eyes wide open as if watching would help you believe it was happening and not some kind of sick dream. When you eventually returned into your own body, you wasted no time struggling against him. Immobilized due to his leg between yours, unable to knee him where the sun don’t shine, you resorted to just biting down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

It does the trick. Just not in the way you hoped.

The pinkette pulled back with a hiss, eyes bright and hooded. The small gash now sported on his lip is teased with his tongue, licking up the small crimson droplets that surfaced. He gave a crooked smile, tilting his head as he let out a breathy laugh, “Fuck, I missed you.”

You blinked, horrified. “You fucking psycho! Get off me!” You hit against him between slaps and closed fists, wiggling around in feeble desperation.

Sanzu groaned, grabbing your wrists and pinning them to the fridge. He leaned in close, nose to nose, as he stared deeply into your eyes. He inhaled, more so taking in your familiar scent like some rabid animal, “Only you could ever get my blood pumping like this. t’s why I go out of my way to piss you off…”

Your frown hardened, about to shoot more venom, but he interrupted with a lengthy sigh. He rested his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “…but…looking back…probably picked the wrong time to do that. Almost lost you for good.”

Your mouth fell shut.

“Listen…‘m not asking for forgiveness or whatever, know it’s a shitty excuse, I was—am a shitty guy… just…want you to know that I regret it. A lot. Wish I took you more seriously…then we probably wouldn’t be in this mess…”

Although his grip loosened a bit, you had stopped trying to escape. He mulled in the silence for a moment, as if choosing his next words carefully. You could tell he struggled, but allowed him the space to find them on his own…for now at least. “When I saw you, at the convenience store…when I saw those two…even knowing the kind of man that I am, the man you’ve been avoiding, I still wanted them to know who I was. Wanted to know them. Then… that Satoru guy showed his face…had started planning his death that very second.”

You deadpanned. “You aren’t exactly painting a redeeming image of yourself…”

“I ain’t trying for redemption here. I mean, I am, just—Dammit, look woman, I didn’t want some bastard doing my job, alright? I’m not a saint, I don’t know a damn thing about being a dad, but I’m the only one who won’t crack under the pressure, and you know it. You didn’t hear a single complaint from those two since they’ve been in my care. Say I’m wrong.”

You squinted, “It’s been one afternoon. You had one use the other as a step ladder to get you alcohol.”

He rolled his eyes, “It was a bonding exercise at best, disregard to safety at worst, but my point still stands. I kept them in line. Even that bastard can’t say that with confidence. Admit it, those two got their edge from me that your ‘good man’ can’t handle, not like I can. Not like you could with me…”

The suggestiveness beneath the last part of his statement didn’t go unnoticed. But, it became increasingly hard to ignore when his hands began to wander. A large part of you rejected this, after everything you’d been through, all that healing, the smart thing would be to shove him away, tell him to kick rocks. Yet, there’s the little bitty part of you whose voice seemed to grow louder and louder the more his hands got familiar. As your breathing grew heavy, a warmth sparking in the depths of your core, you tried to reel back rational thought.

“Our ship has sailed, Haru…I-I can’t—No, I won’t let you sweet talk your way out of this...” Despite your words, you subconsciously moved your neck to give him more room as trailed kisses from your face, down. “You’re a liability, a h-hazard, for both me and my kids. You tortured an innocent man for no reason other than to stroke your ego, t-this isn’t…” you cut yourself off with a soft moan as his teeth sunk into your sweet spot. It hardly took him long to rediscover it.

You could feel him grinning, shivering at the subtle roughness of his scar grazing slightly against your skin. You were weak…in more ways than one, melting like puddy in his hands both physically and emotionally. Sanzu wasn’t counting on getting this far, he welcomed the change of pace, greedily tasting you and groaping you in ways you hadn’t felt in a while. He was sure of it from how easily he was able to break down the last of your defenses…

Well. Almost the last.

“Attack!”

Sanzu lifts his head to find the two ankle-biters at his ankles, one pulling on his pants while the other punched at his legs. It was a tiny ambush, with mighty fists and baby teeth as Hikaru gnawed at his kneecap, while Karou switched tactics by untying his shoes. “You leave our mama alone!”

Mortified, you yoinked yourself out from your lust-filled haze at the sight of your children running in on, what they thankfully assumed to be, some sort of a tussle. With their diversion, you were able to maneuver out of Sanzu’s grasp, hand over heart as you took a second to collect yourself. Christ, you thought, that was too close.

“Ow, ow, alright, knock it off,” Sanzu hissed, reaching down to grab the twins by their scruff. They struggled like raccoons plucked from a dumpster, swiping and swinging with all their might. “Yeah, that’s it, get it all out ya system.”

“Don’t touch our mama, you bully!”

“Yeah! We don’t like you no more!”

He shook his head, looking at you, displeased. “Tsk. You turned my sperm against me. Satoru’s death will be slow.”

“Haru!” You breathlessly exclaimed, fighting to keep from strangling him. Instead you busied your hands by saving the kids from air jail. Taking them both into your arms, one on each hip, they held onto you protectively, collectively glaring at Sanzu. “Don’t make jokes like that with them around.”

“Who said I’m joking?”

“Haruchiyo.”

He rolled his eyes, “What?”

You hesitated. With that small part of you no longer holding the reigns, your rational side created an internal conflict. You shouldn’t…should you..? If you don’t, someone would die because you did nothing…when you know you have the power to stop him. Frankly, you’re one of the chosen few who can. Swallowing hard, you shakily spoke.

“If you…if you promise to let Satoru go…and if you promise to try…I’ll think about it. About what you said, about the kids…about us. And maybe…maybe we can discuss starting over. B-But, only if you let him go, and only if there will be some changes. I mean it. The second you break my trust again…we disappear. I’ll make sure you never find us.”

Sanzu took in your ultimatum. Based on his expression alone, you knew he didn’t like it. Especially if it meant sparing a life he was so set on snuffing out. He gave an annoyed sigh, reaching up to scratch his cheek. “Jeez…all that for some loser? That’s a big ask, doll…”

“Haru.”

“Relax, will ya? I ain’t saying no.” He huffed, crossing his arms, borderline pouting. “You seriously gonna ghost me again if I don’t let him live?”

“Without hesitation.” You firmly nodded. Your boys copied you, not fully understanding but supportive all the same.

The pinkette groaned, exasperated. “Fine, whatever. But I get to threaten him into skipping town. Never wanna see his face again. And I’m staying for dinner. Deal?”

“…Uh…deal?”

“Great. Let’s kiss on it.” He started to approach. You took several steps back.

“Ew, what? No. I’m literally holding the kids.”

“Tsk. Group hug then?”

“Get out of my house.”

“What are your thoughts on having another baby?”

Never in his wildest dreams did KAKUCHO think he’d ever get to see the cherry blossoms with you again, especially not as a family. Walking hand in hand with little Izana perched on his shoulders, the three of you happily took in the sights of floating petals all around you, basking in the warmth of each other’s company. However, while your son played in the fallen petals, the two of you watching him on a nearby bench… it was in peaceful silence until you dropped that bomb on him.

“O-Oh, uh…I suppose…” he awkwardly coughed, “what, uh, what sparked this all of the sudden?”

You sported a knowing grin as he dodged the question. Shrugging, you snuggled more into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. Gazing fondly as your son played, you softly said, “I was just thinking about how you didn’t get to experience those big milestones with Iza…how much you missed out on because of me…”

Despite it being uttered light-heartedly, Kakucho could hear the underlining guilt. He looked down at you, his arm pulling you closer as his expression turned serious. “Don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t a fault of anyone. You had your reasons, I don’t hold any resentment towards you.”

“I know…but…you’d have every right to.”

“I have no desire to. I’m here now, and I’m grateful to be a part of his life, no matter the stage. Sitting here, with you, seeing him so happy and healthy…that’s more than I could ever ask for.”

Directing his attention to little Izana as he spun until dizzily tumbling in the grass, Kakucho felt a blooming warmth in his chest. Yes, the boy was so big now, and he missed out on many firsts—First smile, first steps, first words, first birthday—leaving a subtle ache he couldn’t deny. He would’ve loved to have been there, he’d give anything to go back in time and fix his mistakes in order to do so, but there was no use grieving a past that couldn’t be changed. He was satisfied; content.

Although, the idea of trying again…didn’t sound too bad.

“So…hypothetically speaking.” He began, feeling the heat creeping up his neck and to his face. You tilted your head up, brows raising in intrigue. “How would we…accomplish that?”

You blinked. Then snorted. “Has it been so long you can’t recall how babies are made, or..?”

He softly glared at your teasing, gently pinching your side in retaliation. “Smartass. No, of course I know how it would be done. I’m referring to when we would find the time? We both work, I have a fairly erratic schedule, not to mention when you start to show you’ll need to stay home more often, leaving you alone most of the day.”

“That’s true, but-”

“I suppose I could present maternity leave to Mikey, if we’re even offered that benefit, but that would open Pandora’s box. And the last thing we need are my nosy coworkers prying into my personal life any more than I’ve regrettably allowed already. Especially Sanzu.”

“Hitto-”

“Shall we marry first? At least so we can make it official, for both Izana and the newborn. Oh, and speaking of, we would need to factor in how he would respond to such a big change, I mean, he’s still adjusting to having me around. I can’t imagine how inserting another addition to the family would affect his development-”

“Hitto Kakucho.” You sat up and gently grabbed his face, directing his anxious gaze on you. “You voicing every possible variable with this amount of care is only making me want to give you another baby even more.”

His eyes widened a little, then nervously darted away. With a soft laugh you released him, angling yourself to resume relaxing against his shoulder, looking back at your son.

“Besides, it’s only hypothetical. There’s no need for us to rush. And if we decide that we’re content with one, I’m okay with that, too.”

Izana was still sitting in the grass, learning about the world around him. He flexed his tiny hands as he examined the blades of grass he pulled from the ground, no longer fixated on just the fallen petals. Suddenly, a couple of butterflies fluttered around him, one landing on his knee while the other was on top of his head. He froze in place, big eyes staring at the small creature in wonder, oblivious to the one taking a rest on his head. The sight invoked another soft laugh from you, Kakucho soon joining as his expression grew serene. Both of you watched as the gears started turning in his head, as if deciding whether he should touch it or not. A choice was eventually made when he slowly, carefully reached out to the delicate thing, only for it to take flight and flutter straight to his face. Startled, Izana jerks back a little, thus causing the other one to move as well. He gave a confused couple of blinks, looking up and…

You could’ve shed a tear at how brightly he lit up upon discovering there was not just one, but two of them. Izana tucked onto all fours and pushed himself up to stand, jumping with hands raised high as he now had interest in chasing the butterflies. Kakucho couldn’t help but imagine the same scene play out, but with two children chasing after them instead of one. The ravenette didn’t have much of a family growing up, let alone a sibling. The only person he had that was close to that was…

Kakucho’s heart clenched.

He turned to you fully, catching you off guard as you softly gasped in surprise. Before you could voice concern, he rendered you silent as he stared at you with utmost conviction. “Let’s have another baby.”

RINDOU clutched at his chest like all those years of binge drinking had finally caught up with him. However, instead of heartburn, he’s experiencing what could only be described as cuteness aggression.

Before going to work, he stopped by to help open up the store since the Nakamuras were out of town for a few days. It was quite a sight to see him wearing his apron over his expensive suit. While you wiped he swept, making small talk here and there to fill the silence. The topic of Rintaro’s schooling came up, Rindou wanting to know how he was doing and if he was having any trouble. When you told him it was Career Day at his daycare, where the kids get to dress as their desired career path, he didn’t really think too much about it, relieved to hear such a boring answer. At least he wasn’t scrapping on the playground like he used to.

He paused his sweeping, looking up at you as you wiped the front counter, “Oh, word? What’s he going as?”

You pursed your lips, as if holding in a laugh. Rindou raised a brow.

“What’s so funny? He wanna be a clown or something?”

A snort escaped you, “Yeah, you can say that.”

He continued to be confused until you called out to the boy, rapid pitter-patter of footsteps growing closer until Rintaro comes shooting through the swing doors, hidden behind the counter at your legs. “Yes, mommy?”

“Show Rin your Career Day outfit we worked on all night.”

“Okay!” He eagerly said, coming around the corner and proudly presenting himself with his hands on his hips, full on power stance.

The walking mullet dropped the broom, eyes wide and jaw to his ankles. Rintaro was dressed to the nines in his little suit and tie, paired with shiny black shoes and fake rings, hair styled to resemble his, not to mention Rindou could see a little neck tattoo peaking under the collar of his button up. It was a temporary tattoo of a monster truck, but it’s all about the attention to details. His son…was dressed like him for Career Day. Clutching at his chest, he had to use a nearby table to keep himself to falling to his knees in dramatics; Rindou couldn’t handle it.

You grinned, crossing your arms. “Tried to convince him to be literally anything else, but he insisted on being the ‘coolest person in the world’.”

He didn’t even register your playful dig, still caught up in just how much Rintaro looked like him. It was haunting. Yet, endearing. Especially when he does a big spin to showcase the whole fit, excitedly asking, “Do ya like it, Rin, huh, do ya?”

Rindou didn't even know how to express what he was feeling with words. The best he could muster was a shaky thumbs up and a wobbly smile. You raised a brow, bemused. "Are you about to cry right now?"

"No." He quickly denied. Another snort escaped you, earning a squint from him. With a deep inhale, attempting to pull himself together, Rindou crouched down to be eye level with your son, beckoning him to come closer which he happily did. He placed his hands on his shoulders, squeezing them gently as he gave a once over. “You clean up nice, little man. Feels like I’m looking in a mirror.”

Rintaro beamed, lifting his chin to show off the tattoo. “I even did your tattoo, see? Mommy wouldn’t let me have your actual one though. She said it’s for grown ups.” He reached up to lightly poke the Bonten symbol, pouting slightly. Rindou chuckled, shaking his head.

“Your ma’s right. Kid like you doesn’t need this kinda ink. You stick with the cool looking trucks for now, alright?”

“Alright…but when I’m older, then I can get one like yours?”

Rindou hesitated in his response, but you luckily chimed in with a stern, “Absolutely not.”

Rintaro looked back you, puppy eyes and all. “But-”

“No buts, unless it’s yours marching to go grab your book bag. Rin’s gonna take you to school today on his way to work.”

“Er..I am?”

“You are.”

Your son’s mood does a complete 180, pout morphing into excitement as he sprints for the swing doors. “Okay!”

Once your son disappeared to the back, Rindou stood with a soft chuckle. Walking up to the counter, he leaned against it with a raised brow. “Uh, not that I’m complaining, but since when was I promoted to chauffeur?”

“Since now. Treat it as a bonding moment. And a solid for me. I won’t need to close the store to take him, and you get another fatherly task under your belt. Win-win.”

He blinked, then shrugged. “Fair enough.”

You pinched his cheek, much to his displeasure. “Thanks, Rin. He’s gonna be so excited! Also, if his teacher or classmates ask, which they absolutely will, try to be as vague as possible in terms of your profession. But, make it eccentric enough to where your style makes sense and doesn’t automatically make them think ‘gangster’-”

Rindou’s eyes widen, “Whoa, whoa hold on. Why would any of that matter? I’m just dropping him off, right?”

You gave a disarmingly bright smile. He sweatdropped. “Right?”

“‘m ready! Let’s go, Rin-Rin!”

Your little tyke came barreling in like a torpedo, immediately latching on Rindou’s pant’s leg to tug in the direction of the door. He stood there, frozen like a statue. “Babe…please say sike right now.”

“Oh, relax. It’ll only be for an hour, tops. Do it for him.” You leaned across the counter and kissed his cheek, then reached down to gently fix your son’s hair a little. “Be good, honey! Have a great Career Day with Rin-Rin! I know it’ll be amazing, mommy can’t wait to hear all about it later. And Rindou? Remember to have fun!”

Code: Don’t fuck it up.

He doesn’t know at what point you decided to betray him, swindling him to agree on something more than what was advertised...but, looking down at the eager beaver pulling at his clothes with all his might, ready to show off, in Rintaro’s eyes, ‘the coolest person in the world’…Rindou supposed the strange looks he’ll get from the other parents and prodding questions from the fellow snot-goblins would be worth it. He gave a deep sigh. “Yay.”

After the whole fiasco at the boutique, KOKONOI took it upon himself to get back in your daughter’s good graces the best way he knew how…with his bottomless wallet.

“I can have any flavor I want??” Yumeko asked in awe, hands and face smushed against the display case of many ice creams. Kokonoi grinned, amused at the sight.

“Sweetheart, you can have every flavor if your greedy little heart desires it.” Kokonoi replied, black card already in play as he handed it to the cashier. “Plus as many toppings you can fit. Let’s order a big one, yeah?”

“Yeah!” She cheered.

“Hajime, no.” You deadpanned.

“Relax,” He fixed you a look you couldn’t place, “it’s not just for her, of course. We’ll get three spoons to share. As a family.”

You nearly choked. With the piggy bank still in your hands the poor thing nearly cracked under the pressure of your iron grip. It was like a punch to the gut. You’d honestly rather he did just that instead. Luckily your daughter was too busy shouting orders at the worker to pay any mind to the stare down you two initiated. While you resembled a crook caught in the act, Koko’s grin merely sharpened. After a hot minute spent stewing in the tension, he was the first to break it as he turned back to watch Yumeko overwhelm the staff member with her demands, throwing a limp wave over his shoulder.

“Why don’t you find a nice, quiet spot for all of us to sit?”

Opening your mouth to retort, it dies in your throat due to the forming lump. How could he be so.. calm? It was bone-chilling. Hesitantly, you started heading in the direction of the seating area, eyes still trained on their backs. You stopped at an empty booth a few feet away, sliding in with the grace of someone sitting in one for the first time—Stiff and uncertain. You sat Hammy on the table, rubbing your sweaty palms on your jeans. “Ok, it’s ok…it’s gonna be o…k…”

“Talking to yourself?”

Nearly jumping out of the seat, your gaze darted over to Kokonoi holding your daughter, who was holding her…concoction. Her smile, that scarily started to resemble the frost-dyed blonde, stretched across her adorable face as she presented it to you proudly. “Tada!”

You fought down a grimace. “O-Oh, how very… colorful, Yume. I love how it looks like you didn’t…spar a single flavor. Or topping.”

“Uh huh! I got the flavor I like, and the flavor you like, the big meanie picked his favorite—He likes the mint one, that’s the yucky one—but then I felt bad all the other flavors weren’t picked, so the lady was able to scoop them all into our bowl.”

Kokonoi hummed, “The process repeated with the toppings, as you can see. A true artist in the throes of chaos. She must get that from me.”

You coughed. “Right, well…” searching for a subject change, your eyes caught on to an anomaly, “uh…why are there four spoons?”

“For the pig, of course.” He replied, as if that should’ve been obvious.

He carefully set Yumeko down in the booth, careful not to jolt too much in fear of spilling her experiment everywhere, before sliding in next to her. Her chin barely reached the table, so she decided to stand in the seat, hands flat on the table as she appraised the ice cream. You went to gently reprimand her standing on the seat, not wanting to dirty them, but figured that was the least of your worries…especially when Kokonoi grabbed your hand. You froze, a soft gasp escaping you as you looked down then back at him. His expression was unreadable, void of any animosity you’ve envisioned him having in this moment so many times. It was bizarre, everything about this whole impromptu reunion has been bizarre. Why wasn’t he cursing you out? Demanding answers? Denying reality?? You’ve pinched yourself at least three times by now.

“When did you find out?” His voice cut through your raging thoughts, like a hot knife on rubber. It sizzled, bubbled on the surface with how much weight it had behind it. You swallowed. He corrected. “Easier question…when were you going to tell me?”

As your daughter made busy with swirling the ice cream with two out of the four spoons, more so playing than eating, you used this distraction to really let the mask slip…just a little. The lump in your throat from earlier grew, misty eyes and a wobbly jaw soon followed. The emotion you’ve been suppressing, the lone bush you’ve been tap-dancing around ever since he re-entered your world…was boiled down in a simple response.

“I don’t know.”

Your voice cracked. It was meek, raw. Face feeling flush, you instinctively went to shield yourself, attempting to pull away to close in, but Koko’s grip tightened. “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

You floundered for a second, then shook your head. “O-Of course not, it wasn’t like that…I just…” you trailed off, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. He wasn’t throwing you a life line, he refused. Even if you squirmed, you were going to find the words on your own. Yumeko made a noise of disgust, probably having tasted a hint of the mint. You jumped at the opportunity, “Can we talk about this when she’s not present? I don’t think having this conversation with her being in earshot is-”

“Yumeko, darling, did I ruin the ice cream with my choice of flavor?”

She immediately huffed at him, “Yeah! You big dummy! The minty one is too strong, can’t taste the other ones…”

He cooed, “My apologies. Why don’t you go request for a new one with only the flavors you like, hm? The nice lady at the counter has my card on file. Use it as many times as you’d like.” Kokonoi lifted her up and set her on the floor, patting her head. “Take all the time you need to think about what you want, mmkay?”

“Mmkay!” She responded without protest, already bolting for the display case. You could see the distress flash across on the worker’s face from here upon seeing her coming.

Great. Your scapegoat has escaped.

Kokonoi’s eased grin dropped once Yumeko was out of range, looking back you, expectantly. “There. Problem solved. You were saying?”

Your lips curled inward, eyes closing in resignation. With an exhale through your nose, you spoke. “Hajime…to be completely honest. I didn’t see us having a future together.”

His eyes widened a fraction before they returned neutral. When he didn’t respond, you continued. “We were young. Dumb. Broke. I know none of that mattered, we loved deeply and we were happy…but all of that changed for me when those tests came back positive. And…I knew you wanted more in life. Knew that you had big plans, big ideas…too big for starting a family. And look at you. You’re living lavish, you own stores, you have a black card. I remember when we used to stress over what we were going to eat the next day, let alone the month—You made it, Hajime. If I had stayed…I’m certain you would’ve been miserable.”

He sat there. Quietly. Uncomfortably so. By now, he’s released your hand, instead keeping them interlocked and sat atop the table. His interviewer-esque posture contrasted his bobbing leg hidden under the table, his jaw tightening, brows furrowing ever so slightly. It didn’t take a genius to see your explanation pissed him off. At least now you were getting that animosity you wanted. Kokonoi gave a humorless chuckle.

“So…let me get this straight. You made the brilliant decision, for the both of us, mind you, robbing me of a choice—a chance—because you thought staying, the woman I love carrying my child, would’ve made me miserable. Is that to my understanding?”

“I-”

“Stop. I’ve heard enough. Jesus, had I known that was your reasoning, I would’ve stalked you much harder back then. Thought you were cheating on me with some rich guy or something.” He reached up to rub his temple, grumbling to himself. “You always were an overthinker, worried about nothing.”

“H-Hey, it wasn’t nothing. I sacrificed so that you could succeed, you can’t deny that-”

“The hell I can’t. Honestly, you thought your pregnancy would’ve stopped me from succeeding? You were my entire world, yes, but baby, let’s be real. That was going to happen regardless. I’m a very stubborn, and very persistent man. Your sacrifice was pointless.”

You bristled. Ouch. With clenched fists, you abruptly stood, “It wasn’t pointless to me, Hajime. Look, I’m sorry I took that chance away from you, truely, but I don’t have to sit here and listen to you shit on my feelings. I wanted you to have the life you deserved, and you got it. Whether you think I did anything to help achieve that doesn’t matter, it was the choice I made, and what’s pointless is trying to relive the past. Enjoy your life. Thanks for the ice cream.”

You went to snatch Hammy, but Kokonoi merely slid it out of reach.

“Sit down, [_____]. Or, I’ll have you arrested for criminal damages.”

You gaped. “What? Y-You can’t just do that! You said you weren’t pressing charges-”

He shrugged, wryly smirking. “Not on my child. My self-sacrificing baby mama on the other hand…”

Words couldn’t even begin to describe the dread that sunk into your bones. “Are you…blackmailing me?”

“Mm, I’d call it more like negotiating. Another trait our darling Yumeko gets from me.”

“I’m back! No minty this time!” Yumeko came toddling over, pushing an even bigger bowl across the floor, too heavy to carry. It looked like a goddamn mixer bowl. “And look, I got that ice cream lady to give me this mega bowl for more room!”

Kokonoi turned on the charm like a switch, clapping his hands as he praised her. “Wonderful, the more the better. I can’t wait for the tummy ache.”

Yumeko left the bowl near Koko’s feet before she latched onto you, beaming. “Mommy, I like this big, dumb meanie. Can we keep him?”

With a strained smile almost splitting your face in two, you forced out a laugh. With that smug bastard grinning like the Cheshire Cat across from you, basking in victory of winning over your daughter with his bottomless wallet, suddenly prison sounded more appealing.

“Well? What’s it gonna be, mommy dearest?”

“Hajime, I swear to God.”

“Save it for the altar. We can both swear to him there.”

You nearly choked. And to make it worse…you knew he was serious. Yumeko looked between the two of you, once again blissfully ignorant to the situation as she tilted her head. “What’s an altar..?”

boys you would be safest around: draken, takemichi, hakkai. souya.

i really cannot see draken as the type of guy to take advantage of you. if anything, he's the one taking care of you at a party, making sure no one else is trying anything with you. a good guy to go out with.

takemichi also wouldn't be bad to have around, but he wouldn't be the best person to have watching over you. not because he's out to harm you but because he'll get sidetracked and possibly lose sight of you. but he himself is not a danger to you.

hakkai wouldn't be brave enough to try anything even if he does want to. he'll intensely stare at you, noting how your clothes cling to your body in all the right ways, and how there's a think layer of sweat on your skin, causing you to look shiny, almost ethereal under the lights. he wants to touch you, but he wont, so you're relatively safe.

souya is diligent about watching over you. so many nasty pervs in this place who probably can't wait to get their hands on someone vulnerable like you. nahoya's comments about you don't exactly help him feel better. he'll keep his hands to himself, save for maybe a quick brush of his hand on your cheek.

a majority of the others are all various degrees of dangerous to be around.

sanzu spikes your drink the moment you look away. even if it was for a second. you'll be so out of it that you don't even recall when you ended up in his bed. the ache in your legs the next morning tells you the story of what happened, but you don't remember it yourself.

ran handles you like some sort of puppet, moving you every which way he sees fit and you can't do much to combat it. he'll be the one to call others over to admire your body and get in on the action. had you been sober, you might've heard him cooing at you while he cups your face as he and others desecrate you.

rindou is subtle. you might trust him with your drink over others because he seems to calm and relaxed compared to them. level-headed. but he's just as much of a bastard. he doesn't make some big show about getting you fucked up, just gently guides you back to his place so that he stuff his cock in you.

kakucho won't do anything to your drink, but if you've gotten yourself extremely drunk, he will use that to his advantage. pulling you onto his lap and touching you a little too close to places that you may not want him touching while sober. he feels guilty, but he's wanted you for so long and he tries to rationalize that its okay because you wont remember.

you'd feel more shame and humiliation over hanma's actions towards you if you could actually process it. he'll be exposing bits and pieces of your skin and undergarments, laughing about it as you weakly swat at him. he'll let others look, but won't let them touch you. he would take photos of you, both for his own personal use and to use as future blackmail.

chifuyu wants you so bad it hurts and with you just laying there?? it's hard for him to resist. but does, kinda. he restrains from doing too much, which to him means jerking himself off over your bare crotch and leaving his cum on you, rather than just shoving his cock inside of you and coming there. another time, is what he tells himself. but he's quick to leave before you wake up, leaving you alone and confused about what happened the previous night.

nahoya has his arms wrapped around you the moment he realizes you're drunk outta your mind. pulling you into his lap, kissing up on your neck. that man is all over you a majority of the night. and if anyone asks, you're his. he may even bring you back to his place, taking care of you in the morning and convincing you that you had told him that you want to go on a proper date with him sometime.

koko keeps ordering you drinks to get you drunk and you happily accept them. he thinks its funny watching you talk, your speech getting more slurred as the night goes on. he asks you a bunch of personal questions and you're happy to disclose them all while you down another shot. the next day you have a text from a number you don't recognize and a killer hangover.

he knows it's creepy, but inupi can't help but take photos of you while you're enjoying the night out. just a few snuck in here or there, most of the quite innocent. you're too out of it to notice the flash going off in your direction multiple times, instead focused on dancing around and having a good time. and that's fine with him, because his favorite photos of you are the ones where you have a huge smile on your face.

izana will encourage you to drink more, because having you drunk means that he can do whatever he want with you without having to hear you complaining. he's rougher with you, gripping your thighs harder than usual. you might protest lightly, but you don't exactly have the strength to get mad at him for his harsh actions like you normally would. he knows you won't be pleased in the morning to see that he's done what he can to mark you up.

↬ Sano Shinichiro

Word on the streets is that the leader of Black Dragons is a charismatic and respected man. The followers he's gathered and the gang he's founded--now the biggest gang in Tokyo, are enough evidence to prove these aren't just hearsays whispered in alleyways.

He really is that man.

Sano Shinichiro is that man.

The roar of engines cuts through the busy avenue of Tokyo, making people part for them like waves. Whispers from the sidelines along with worried expressions from spectators blur past the members of Black Dragons as their motorbikes tear through the middle of the street like they own it.

And at the front of this sea of black uniforms rides none other than Shinichiro--ever so magnetic, his black tokkofuku flaring behind him, embroidered with words that scream who he is and what he represents: commander.

Takeomi smirks, looking at his friend who he thinks is farming way too much aura in this gang parade. He cracks a joke. "You look so cool asserting your dominance in this part of the city, boss!"

When Shinichiro hears it, a cocky smile immediately creeps across his face. "Gotta keep the legend alive!"

The lower members catch their commander’s shout and roar in agreement, making his words ring out like a battle cry.

Wakasa, Benkei, and Takeomi exchange a knowing look, shaking their heads in unison. (He’s bragging again… Yeah, as always… Let him… Ugh.)

The whole gang trails behind Shinichiro, pride and smoke drifting confidently through the air. Without warning, he slows his pace and lifts a hand to signal the group.

Everyone freezes.

"What's up?" Benkei scans the road for anything wrong. They aren't in enemy territory yet nor are there any suspicious people lingering around ready to attack them. But they've specifically stopped in front of a shotengai.

Shinichiro hops off his bike and walks toward the shopping district.

"I'll be right back."

"Oi, Shin!"

His vice commander grunts, tilting his head for the two captains to follow their commander.

"All of you, stay back!" Takeomi shouts over his shoulder. "We’ve got business to take care of."

The rest of the BD members’ eyes gleam as a shared thought flickers among them. Maybe this is the point of the parade--to prove they’re strong enough now to start claiming territory and money of their own.

"Yo, are we asking for protection money now?" "Holy shit, we're really turning into yakuza!" "Shinichiro-san is so damn cool!" "Tch, that's why he's the boss. No one else could pull that off."

A few yards away, the reality is a far cry from what the rest of the gang is picturing. There the three of them stand, bored out of their minds, waiting for their leader to wrap up his business.

"Uh-huh. we really stopped for this..." Wakasa mutters, giving the hyakuen shop a flat look.

"I'm just wondering what the others think we're doing--"

"They probably think we're shaking the place down," Takeomi interrupts dryly. "Moving up to yakuza status as we speak."

Their heads turn as Shinichiro finally steps out, that same legendary confidence radiating from him as if he’d actually just extorted the poor shop owner.

If it weren't for the small paper bag and the crinkled receipt in his hand, they might have believed it, too.

"Looking at him like this... it's just stupid," Benkei grumbles.

Takeomi snorts, knowing full well what their boss actually bought.

When Shinichiro and the others rejoin the group, the Black Dragon members erupt in a unified roar, celebrating what they assume was a successful ‘business deal.’ Shinichiro swings a leg over his bike and revs the engine, prompting the entire line of delinquents to howl in victory behind him.

For the rest of the parade, Shinichiro’s presence never wavers. He leads the gang with a cocky confidence that sends everyone’s adrenaline through the roof. He lives up to every word whispered on the streets--a living legend who commands fear without ever needing to demand it.

But the moment the meeting concludes and he pulls his bike up to a specific house, the energy shifts.

The smirk he’s worn like armor all day vanishes the second he knocks on the door, replaced by a bashful, boyish smile. The man who radiated power while riding through the city now stands there looking almost shy, clutching a small paper bag in his hands.

When you open the door, a smile is already on your face as you look up at your boyfriend.

"You're late."

"Sorry, baby. Forgive me?" Shinichiro asks, pulling a teddy bear from the paper bag. It’s soft and brown, sporting a tiny red bow tie. Your smile grows wider--so sickeningly sweet that Shinichiro swears he might actually die from the sugar rush. He can feel his heart thudding against his ribs just looking at you.

"Hmm, what’s this? A bribe?" You tease him, though you’re already pulling the bear into a tight embrace, letting the soft fur brush your cheek.

Shinichiro pouts, making a smooching sound with his cheeks puffed out. "No kiss? Aren't I a good boyfriend for buying you a gift?"

You burst out laughing, the sound a bit breathless. How is it possible for a gang leader to be this pouty? If the Black Dragons saw their "ever-charismatic" leader acting this mushy, they’d probably double over in shock. Takeomi, Benkei, and Wakasa on the other hand, would look on with pure, unadulterated disgust.

But this is your Shinichiro, not theirs. He can be clingy, pouty, and cheesy for you, and you love him just the same--maybe even more than the people who follow him.

With you, he isn't the legendary leader; he's a loving, sometimes cringy boyfriend, eyes soft and warm in a way no one else ever sees.

He pulls you into a tight embrace, your bodies pressed together as he leans down to peck your nose. "I missed you today" he admits softly. "That’s why I stopped at hyakuen. Consider it a bribe for being late… and for missing you more than usual."

"Silly. I understand you're busy with your… gang stuff," you murmur, nuzzling against him while still clutching the bear. "Though I did hear a lot of motorcycles earlier. Was that you guys making all that racket?"

"Maybe," he admits, his grin turning sheepish. "But hey, if they're afraid of us, they'll leave you alone. I just want you to be able to walk freely, baby." His fingers graze yours, the gesture holding more weight than his lighthearted tone suggests.

He lets out a low chuckle when you hit his shoulder. Cheesy.

"Let's go inside, Shin. It's cold, and I know you're tired and hungry."

"Alright, baby." But before stepping through the door, he leans down to claim the kiss he’s been craving all day. It’s soft and lingering, enough to make your heart skip a beat.

You’re breathless when he finally pulls away, your cheeks flushed warm despite the biting winter air.

And if his members saw him like this--completely loving and utterly whipped, he wouldn't be embarrassed for a second. Because as proud as he is to lead his gang, nothing compares to the pride he feels when he’s standing at your side.

↬ Imaushi Wakasa

Despite his high-impact moves during gang wars, Imaushi Wakasa is the type who rarely runs his mouth. His nonchalance and laid-back nature make it seem like he’s barely trying--an attitude that, unfortunately, makes him a target for those who don't know any better.

But anyone who has witnessed him in his prime--forged in clashes and street fights, knows better than to fuck with him. Because as much as he doesn't feel the need to talk, he loves conversing with his fists.

Even in the heat of a brawl, Wakasa remains completely unfazed, his expression so disinterested that his friends often find themselves wondering if he’s actually bored.

His unflappable nature doesn't just scare his opponents--it unnerves his own members. He is truly an unbothered king. So, when he casually announces to his inner circle after a meeting that he has a girlfriend, the silence that follows is nothing short of comical.

"What do you mean you have a girlfriend, Waka?" His commander-slash-friend nearly chokes on his smoke, coughing the words out in disbelief.

"I have a girlfriend." Simple. Calm. Unbothered. As if that three-word sentence explains the universe. But knowing Wakasa, those few words are enough. He says exactly what he needs to, and not a syllable more.

He isn't asking for an opinion. He’s stating a fact, and that’s that.

Shinichiro glances at Takeomi, who looks just as confused, though he quickly drops his eyes to the ground as if it owes him a detailed explanation. Benkei, on the other hand, is staring at the three of them.

They aren't looking at each other, but the same thought runs through all their heads.

How?

Wakasa is a good-looking man, undoubtedly. He’s had countless women confess to him over the years--girls who practically throw themselves at his feet but he never pursues them. None of them have ever piqued his interest. Maybe it’s because he’s too detached and unreadable. He barely speaks, and no one has ever managed to scale the wall he’s built around himself. It is cold and fucking impenetrable.

So how?

"How?" Thank you, Benkei.

The question hangs in the air as Shinichiro and Takeomi nod in frantic agreement. They lean forward, desperate for an explanation, for anything.

If they expect Wakasa to elaborate, they’re dead wrong.

"Fuck y'all."

The news is massive but the conversation dies right there. He has a girlfriend. His friends don't believe him, he doesn't care, and he dips.

Little does he know after his announcement, the three of them decide to tail him just to see if he's lying. And maybe witness what the great Imaushi Wakasa looks like in a relationship.

They give it a few days, waiting for the perfect time Wakasa goes somewhere that isn't gang-related. And when he finally mentions he has somewhere to be, that's the signal for the three of them to spring into action.

Determined to catch him in the act, they tail him as discreetly as three high-ranking delinquents can. They soon find themselves standing in front of a backstreet café none of them even knew existed. Tucked between two looming buildings, the place is practically invisible unless you know exactly where to look. A faded sign creaks above the door, and a soft, warm light spills from the windows, inviting and quiet.

"He'd meet his girl in some hidden café like this?" Takeomi mutters, sneaking a glance at the door Wakasa just entered. "You sure he's not meeting one of his yakuza buddies here?"

"Yeah, and this is yakuza territory too," Shinichiro adds. He crosses his arms, squinting at the café like it might reveal its secrets.

Either way, they slip inside the café as quietly as possible, sneaking glances around to track down their friend. It doesn't take long before they spot him, sitting alone by the window looking as calm and uncaring as ever.

"Look at that fucker," Takeomi whispers. "Knew it. He was lying out of his ass. Bet he's here to spend the money he extorted. Fancy motherfucker."

Shinichiro starts to chuckle. "Or maybe he’s going to--"

Benkei nudges his shoulder, gesturing toward the table just as a woman begins walking up to where Wakasa sits.

"Oh, shit."

Wakasa’s eyes track your approaching figure. You’re dressed simply, clean and effortless--a stark contrast to the grit of the world he usually inhabits. His expression remains unreadable at first but the moment you stop in front of him and take your seat something shifts.

The man known for being as cold as ice lifts the corner of his lips into the softest smirk any of them have ever seen.

"Hi, pretty."

He leans over the table, bridging the gap to catch your cheek in a soft, lingering kiss. There is no rush in his movements. He captures your hand, thumb idly stroking your knuckles--a habit born from a deep, quiet familiarity.

"I haven't ordered your drink yet. Want some cheesecake?"

His soft gaze doesn't waver as he waits for your answer.

To the rest of the world, Wakasa is a man of silences. But with you, the words come easily, almost hurried, as if he can't wait to share his thoughts. He speaks in a register reserved solely for you, his voice dropping into a tone that no one else is ever permitted to hear.

You squeeze his hand, giving it a playful tug to bring his attention back from his own thoughts. "Did you wait long, baby?"

Wakasa can't help it anymore. A genuine smile creeps across his face, wide enough to make his eyes squint.

Unbeknownst to both of you, a chorus of gasps and muffled curses erupts from a table not too far away, where three very wide-eyed men are silently losing their minds.

"I didn't. I just came here straight after the meeting. Let me order first, then we'll talk about your uni, yeah?"

You smile and nod, and he gives your hand a final, tender caress before standing up. He leans over one more time, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering just a second too long before finally pulling away.

You watch his back as you are pulled into your own thoughts.

A delinquent and a university student isn't an ideal story to tell, but it's the world you currently live in and love. It isn't unusual to hear others question your decision to be involved with him, their words stringing together like accusations, urging you to let go of his hand.

"Why him? He's a delinquent!" "You're going to destroy your future!"

But none of that matters. The only words that truly resonate are the promises he’s whispered during those silent nights--words you choose to believe in above all else.

Wakasa is yours, just as you are his.

The clink of a cup on the table brings you back to the present.

"Here's your order, pretty."

He sets the coffee down in front of you--the order he’s memorized by heart. He knows how you cling to this specific drink whenever you’re pulling an all-nighter for school.

As detached as he is during his gang activities, with you, he notices everything. Every little detail about you is something he remembers and engraves into his memory as if it were the most vital information in the world.

Once again, he captures your hand, his soft gaze pinned on you as his rhythmic, gentle caresses begin to ease your mind.

"Tell me about your uni, baby?"

"Oh, you know… same hell," you sigh. "I'm currently working on a strategic plan for a hypothetical business...identifying its threats, strengths, and target markets. It’s exhausting, really."

"Poor baby," he murmurs, tilting his head with a playful glint in his eyes. "What if we tried executing your business in real life so it wouldn't be so hard on you? What do you say, pretty?"

You pinch the back of his hand, making him let out a low, amused chuckle.

"And?" you challenge with a smile. "Where exactly would we get our capital?"

A soft smile lingers on both of your faces as he leans closer, his fingers reaching out to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"Baby, I have ways."

It’s a joke, but you know deep down that if you ever truly asked, Wakasa would move mountains for you. For a man who rarely speaks, whose internal barriers are nearly impossible to pierce, the fact that you chose him is reason enough for him to do anything for you, legal or otherwise.

He loves you with that kind of intensity.

"Well, let's try your ways when I quit university and choose to be your fulltime girl"

And you love him just the same.

Both of you lean in, closing the distance until your lips finally meet in a soft, sweet kiss. Your hearts seem to beat in unison as the moment lingers, neither of you willing to pull away just yet. You can’t help but smile into the kiss, which coaxes a matching one from him, and soon you're both quietly giggling against each other’s lips.

You’re the first to pull away and sit back properly, while your boyfriend chases after you for one more lingering kiss at the corner of your mouth before finally settling into his own seat.

For a moment, everything feels perfect. It’s just the two of you in your own little world... right up until a loud, hacking cough cuts through the quiet café, followed by a sharp curse.

"Ow, fuck! Why is this so hot?! Are they trying to kill someone?"

Wakasa closes his eyes, letting out a long, weary sigh. "Uh-huh… couldn't they be any more obvious?"

"Waka?" You stare at your boyfriend for a moment before your gaze drifts to the three men seated not too far from your table. They're huddled together, desperately pretending to study a menu while very obviously burning holes in your direction. Your eyes dart from the strangers, to him, and then back to them again.

Wakasa quietly watches the gears turn in your head until the flicker of realization finally hits you.

"…They're wearing the same uniform as you."

"Unfortunately" he mutters.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "These idiots..."

Wakasa stands up, finally deciding to continue your date somewhere else. It isn't because he’s embarrassed to be seen with you, but rather to end this stupidity once and for all.

He isn't about to let these dumbasses ruin his time with you just because their nosy asses wanted to catch him off guard. They never will. His nonchalant persona and the softer version he shows only to you are both real--he’s simply more natural when you're around.

In truth, you're the only person in the world who actually has the power to catch him off guard.

He reaches out and gently tugs you up. "Let's continue our date somewhere else."

"Why--"

Before you can finish, he’s already walking toward their table with you in tow, his hand holding yours tightly. The three of them freeze mid-motion as you both come to a halt right in front of them.

"This is my girlfriend," he says flatly, his tone suggesting that talking to them is the most boring chore in the world. But the moment he turns back to you, that soft visage returns instantly.

"And these," he gestures lazily toward the three wide-eyed men, "are the idiots i told you about."

"Hi" you say with a polite smile, giving them a little wave.

The three of them just stare, unable to bridge the gap between the man they know and the one standing before them. The reality that his girlfriend actually exists is one thing, but the genuine look on Wakasa’s face is another entirely. Shinichiro’s jaw is tight, his silence loud, while Takeomi and Benkei simply go still, watching the scene unfold in stunned disbelief.

Before they can even find their voices, your boyfriend guides you toward the exit, leaving them completely dumbfounded.

It takes a moment for the reality to sink in, but they eventually snap out of their daze. "O-oi, Waka!"

"Pay for our coffee! Bye!" he calls back over his shoulder.

Once you’re both outside, a low, genuine laugh finally breaks from Wakasa’s chest. You stare at him, confused at first, but his amusement is so infectious and unfiltered that you can’t help but join him. The rare sound of his laughter fills the air, leaving a lingering warmth in your chest.

"You're terrible!" You laugh, swatting his shoulder.

His shoulders are still shaking as he tugs you closer, wrapping his arms securely around your waist. "They're more terrible for stalking me. They didn't believe I actually had a girl."

You return his embrace as he slowly begins to sway you back and forth, as if you’re dancing to music only the two of you can hear. "Maybe it's because you didn't explain it to them?"

His gaze softens as he leans down, his voice dropping into a low whisper. "No need. You're the only one who matters."

If your heart skips a beat, it’s a secret shared only between the two of you. Because just as you are his entire world, Wakasa is the only heartbeat that matters in yours.

"Let's go to your dorm, baby," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. "I wanna keep kissing you all day."

And even if no one believes that your Wakasa is entirely different from the man who rules the streets, it doesn't matter. They don't need to see the side of him that only exists behind closed doors. Because he’s yours. Entirely yours.

↬ Hanma Shuji

If most people saw twenty-plus grown men in all-black suits walking down the street, the encounter would be nerve-wracking--terrifying, even. These men are armed and known for destroying anything in their path. They’re exactly the kind of people you’d avoid at any cost.

But right now? These same dangerous men are the ones trembling.

Sitting in front of them is another man in a pinstripe suit, a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips. His stare is sharp enough to serve as a final warning: one wrong move, and he will raise his pistol without a second thought to put a bullet through someone's skull.

The men can't even swallow, let alone allow the sound of their own breathing to be heard.

Because Hanma Shuji… is pissed as fuck.

Everyone in the damn room knows he's one snap away from going on a killing spree, and no one wants to be the first body to drop.

The smoke from his cigarette curling around his dark expression.

"You had one job, you pieces of shit. One fucking job!" He snarls.

No one dares to speak, breathe, or even blink. Any normal human action could get them killed. Act like a corpse if they must, just so long as their boss doesn't raise his gun or stand to beat the shit out of them. Even then, there's no guarantee of salvation.

He inhales sharply, his jaw clenching and unclenching with visible tension. "What is so hard to fucking understand? No one leaves until we have what we need! And you… you were so damn stupid that you let the cops tail you. Fucking morons."

Hanma lets the words hang in the air, the room already suffocating under the weight of his gaze. Everyone knows better than to move, but as with every tragic comedy, there is always one idiot who mistakes a pause for an opportunity to speak.

Hands twitching and sweat trickling down his neck, the man gulps, daring to lift his eyes to meet his boss lethal gaze.

"B-but b-boss, w-we-"

Gunshot.

In the blink of an eye, he crumples to the floor, a bullet lodged in the center of his forehead, blood pooling around him like crimson ink.

Don't rest in peace, idiot.

The ringing of the gunshot echoes across the room. If they've been stiff from the start of this execution (meeting) they're now completely paralyzed. Hearts pound harder than ever. Even if they don't pray aloud their minds are filled with desperate litanies, hoping they won't be the next to get shot.

Hanma Shuji stands, menacing aura unfaltering despite the kill.

"Why the fuck are you trying to piss me off even more, huh?"

He begins to prowl toward them, paying no mind to the blood seeping onto his leather shoes. He spits his cigarette at the feet of the men in the front row, a gesture of pure disgust. Looking down at them now, he isn't a god--he’s a true reaper deciding which soul to harvest next.

Hanma raises his pistol once again, the barrel shifting slowly toward the man on his right. The man goes rigid but the fast, shallow breaths rattling in his chest betray every ounce of terror he's trying to hide.

He's next. He's gonna die. HE'S NEXT.

Everyone holds their breath, bracing for the final moment of their lives...

until a phone rings inside Hanma’s pocket.

His jaw remains set as he pulls the phone from his pocket. Without glancing at the caller id, he presses accept, his other hand steady with his finger still hovering over the trigger.

He’s ready to snap at whoever dared to interrupt him, but the words die in his throat the moment a familiar voice carries through the line.

"Hi, baby."

The whole room remains locked in a deathly silence, making the voice from the phone loud enough for everyone to hear. It is a sweet, melodic voice, speaking with an endearment that only she has the right to use for a man as fearsome as him.

Yet, the men feel no relief. Instead, some close their eyes in a desperate prayer as the Reaper turns toward them, a single plea screaming in their minds:

"Whoever is the goddess on the other line... please, fucking save us from him."

Hanma lowers his gun without a word and strides back toward the table, the phone still pressed to his ear. When he turns to sit, the expression that had nearly eaten them alive begins to melt.

First, it shifts into something cold and unreadable... and then he tongues the inside of his cheek as his eyes slowly crinkle with delight.

"Hi, pretty baby," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave into something dangerously sweet. "Why are you still up?"

To say the men are shocked would be a massive understatement--they can't believe their fucking eyes. Hanma Shuji--the man who reigns over the streets with terror and is feared even by his own kind is seconds away from smiling genuinely, all because of the woman on the other end of the line.

It is a well-known fact within the underworld that Hanma Shuji has a girlfriend. Some of the men have even met you, and their immediate thought was always the same: how unfortunate you were to be involved with a man like him. To them, you are young, beautiful, and tragically unlucky--doomed to be with a man who will eventually destroy everything he touches.

Little do they know, the gangster is wrapped tightly around your finger, and he’s there willingly. He is chained and devoted, with absolutely no place he would rather be than right where you want him.

"I'm trying to finish this new scarf I've been crocheting and suddenly thought of that milky donut we passed by the other day. I'm kind of craving it--wait, are you busy? I'm sorry, Shu--"

Shuji can’t help the smile creeping onto his face. He tries biting his lower lip to suppress it, but the joy is too infectious to fight.

When his useless subordinates see that wholesome expression tugging at the corners of his mouth, they finally dare to exhale. They are still in disbelief, but they cling to the sliver of hope his change in mood provides. Their boss smiling means, at the very least, they might live to see another day.

"Don't tell me you used that ugly color for my scarf--"

"Excuse me! Who said this scarf is for you?!"

That earns a roaring laugh from your boyfriend, the sound echoing through the stifling room as he pictures your indignant face. His eyes gleam, his voice dropping to a low, amused hum. "Come on now, baby. I know it’s for me."

Hanma lounges back further into his chair, the gun mindlessly tapping against his temple as he continues to bite his lower lip.

How amazing it is--to see a man capable of terrifying an entire group of hardened thugs turn into a smiling idiot just because his girl called.

It's a sight to see, really, and it could be a comforting one…

If only they were assured that after this call, he'd stay in a good enough mood for the rest of the night to spare them from Hanma's rage and carnage.

"Whatever you say, Shu."

There is a brief pause on your end, and Hanma tilts his head slightly, listening intently. He can hear faint shuffling, the rustle of fabric, and then something lightly clattering to the floor.

"Oh, shit!" Your voice suddenly grows distant and distracted.

Hanma immediately drops his feet from the table, his posture sharpening in an instant. His men stiffen in unison, fearing the shift in his body language is a sign that the execution is back on but Hanma’s attention is glued entirely to the phone.

"Baby?" he calls out, the irritation from earlier thinning into a sharp, focused curiosity.

More sounds filter through the speaker: the jingle of keys, a door clicking shut, and the soft, hurried tap of your heels against the floor. Hanma’s brow arches, amusement flickering in his eyes as he leans back into his chair once more, his grin curling lazy and wide.

"Baby… where are you?"

"H-huh? Ah--I'm crocheting your scarf--"

"You said it wasn't mine--"

"Shut it. J-just get my milky donuts before you come home, okay? Love you, take care!"

And then the line goes dead.

Hanma stares at his phone for a second longer, his grin stretching even further. But the moment the screen goes dark, the shift is instant. The boyish boyfriend fades, and the crime lord slips back into place like a second skin.

The room freezes all over again. The comfortable breaths some of them dared to release earlier are pulled right back into their lungs. Every man feels the same dreadful thought sink deep, like a stone dropping into cold water:

The call ended. We're fucked. See you in hell, boys. Damn.

Hanma stands up with a low groan, his hand sliding back onto his gun. He raises it casually, almost lazily, paired with a glare sharp enough to slice the air.

"If I'm gonna rid one stupid among a bunch of stupid, might as well rid them all, ain't it?"

These men accept their fate the moment they bow their heads. It's a sign of defeat, a silent confession that they're useless gangsters who fucked up their operation big time. If it weren't for their boss taking immediate action, they would've all been in jail by now.

And honestly, maybe they deserve to be scythed by the Reaper himself rather than be tortured by cops desperate for information.

Hanma doesn't say another word, fully prepared to let the ricochet of his gun do the talking.

But the split second before he pulls the trigger, the door swings open, allowing a faint floral scent to cut through the heavy, metallic air.

"Hi! Is Shuji here?"

Everyone witnesses the way Hanma’s eyes widen in genuine shock, his gun lowering instantly. The mere sound of that familiar voice is enough to make the criminal boss’s threatening countenance wobble a bit.

His girlfriend is here. His baby.

Hanma points firmly at the dead body on the floor, signaling his men to cover the bloody scene. He then frantically turns away from the table and hurries toward where you stand. His men immediately press themselves together, forming a human wall to block your view of anything beyond their backs as their boss reaches you.

"B-baby!... What are you doing here, huh?"

The collective movement that blocks what's in front of you makes you roam your eyes and tiptoe to see what they're trying to hide. But Hanma catches on fast and smoothly blocks your view by towering over you.

"What brings you here, doll? Isn't it a bit late for you to be wandering outside?" He holds your elbows softly, his touch gentle as he tries to guide you to turn around and leave this blood-scented room.

Hanma has never been nervous a day in his life. He has always chased the thrill of danger, so the concept of fear isn't in his vocabulary. But the thought of you barging in and seeing the grisly work he’s just finished is enough to make him panic.

"Were you surprised?" You look up at him, smiling so genuinely, as if your little stunt were both brilliant and sweet.

It is, certainly, but it’s in the entirely wrong place.

Hanma doesn't dare turn his head to see how his subordinates are handling the cover up. Instead, he keeps his focus entirely on you, fighting to push down the panic clawing at his throat. To distract you, he pecks your lips, his hands sliding from your elbows up to your shoulders to keep you anchored in place.

"Yes, baby, I am surprised," he murmurs. "Now, don't do it again."

You giggle, reaching up to caress his sharp jaw and gently pinch his cheeks. "Silly! It was supposed to be a surprise, Shuji."

You are so, so sweet that he can’t help the twitch of his lips, but he also can’t ignore the chaos clawing at his insides. He doesn’t care if his men can feel the frantic tension he radiates, or that he’s practically putty in your hands as he tries to steer you away from the carnage he orchestrated.

He isn't embarrassed to be seen like this, however he would be deeply unsettled if you witnessed another blood-stained scene especially when he promised, the day he asked for your hand, that you would never have to see one.

As dangerous as he is, he never lets you be at the center of his chaos.

And you? You knew the moment you let him into your life that danger would be inevitable and a common occurrence but you didn't care. Being with him is the only thing that makes you feel complete. Ironically, being in the arms of the most dangerous man in the room is exactly what makes you feel safest.

You love him as a whole, as much as he loves your everything.

"You could have told me. I should've picked you up--"

"Then it wouldn't be a surprise anymore!" you counter with a playful smile.

The soft smile you display makes Hanma's tension finally break. Unable to resist the smirk any longer, he pulls you to his chest and leans down, burying his face against your jaw as he peppers it with little bites and kisses.

"You missed me that much that you had to come here and surprise me? What a damn shame," he teases, though his grip on you says otherwise.

Your laughter echoes through the once-dreaded room, and you are entirely unaware that it isn't only your boyfriend who is eased by the sound. His men who had been facing the scythe of death only moments ago, feel the relief wash over them as well.

Still lost in your own world, the two of you don't notice his subordinates slowly embracing a rare sense of security. They finally dare to believe they might actually be safe from the hands of their boss--all thanks to you.

"Yeah, what a shame," you retort, rolling your eyes. "As if I’m the one clinging like a koala right now. In the presence of your men, really, Shuji? How embarrassing."

Shuji finally pulls away from your neck to look at your pretty face--full of smiles and adoration. He could return the tease, but instead he uses those seconds to appreciate how you immediately calm him.

"They could die for all I care."

You scrunch your nose. Fucking adorable.

"Please don't."

And somewhere among the gangsters huddled together, you swear you hear a sigh of relief. You have no idea what you did, but the gratitude radiating off their backs makes you think that maybe… you did something for them.

"Well, the reason I'm here is like what I told you over the phone. I'm craving that milky donut we passed by the other day. I want it as hot as possible… and I guess I missed you too."

You murmur the last part, your hands lingering to caress his suited chest. He catches your hands in his, pressing a lingering kiss to your fingers before turning toward his men abruptly.

"Clean that shit up and fucking scram after."

Before you can hear the collective breath of relief and chorus of gratitude, your boyfriend is already pulling you out of the room.

The night air hits you both as Hanma guides you outside the building, his hand firmly intertwined with yours. The tension and rage that filled him earlier are completely gone now, replaced by a softer, gentler version of him--one that only exists when you're around.

"So" he drawls, glancing down at you with that signature lazy grin "milky donuts, huh?"

You nod eagerly, squeezing his hand. "Hot and fresh. You promised you’d get them before coming home, anyway."

"Oh, did I now?"

He pulls you closer as you walk down the street, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to shield you from the cold wind. "Guess I have to follow the boss's orders."

That elicits a bright laugh from you, and for a moment, Hanma Shuji can only look at your face. He traces the way your eyes sparkle under the streetlights and the way you lean into him so naturally, so trusting.

The criminal lord wouldn't trade this moment for any thrill the streets or the underground could give him.

Because you're the most exciting part of his life. And even if he's a lawbreaker, a feared man, the Reaper, none of those titles give him a more fulfilling, satisfying feeling than being your man.

He's just Shuji.

The man who is wholly, utterly, and completely yours. Your Shuji.

"Let's go, baby. I don't want you getting grumpy if you don't get those donuts tonight."

He presses a kiss to your temple--a silent assurance and a promise kept.

↬ Sanzu Haruchiyo

Like a feral wolf fresh from a fight, he staggers toward Bonten's conference room, each breath coming in ragged gasps. It isn't just his labored breathing that shows the rough expedition he's been on, but also the blood splattered across his pinstripe suit and the bruises and busted skin scattered here and there.

Sanzu Haruchiyo has just returned from the front lines.

As an underboss of the most powerful criminal syndicate in the country, his days are perpetually fueled by threats and gore--nothing unusual for him. However, at this time of year, their enemies are particularly agitated. Challenges to Bonten’s authority have begun to pile up, resulting in weeks of grueling, back-to-back missions.

If his normal days are loaded with violence, these moments are defined by something else entirely: straight-up savagery.

When he slams the conference door open, the men inside expect hell in human form, and they aren't wrong. The executives watch in silence as the bloody second-in-command stalks into the room, drags a chair back with a screech of metal, and props his long legs onto the table.

Kokonoi Hajime, the only one who dares to linger his gaze on Sanzu for more than a second, knows better than to speak. Based on the feral look of his superior's eyes, it is clear that any word, no matter how small, might be the one that triggers an explosion. It’s better to leave him the fuck alone.

Sanzu still radiates a strong viciousness. His eyes twitch, an attestation of the adrenaline still surging from his kills. His right hand keeps alternating between gripping his gun and tapping it against his head, and there are little sniffs here and there.

The pinkette is still riding a high from the bloodlust, his nerves frayed and electric. No one in their right mind should trigger him now.

Hoping to de-escalate the tension, Takeomi--Bonten’s advisor and Sanzu’s brother attempts to mellow him out with a simple offering. He pulls out a pack and gestures.

"Smoke?"

Takeomi darts his eyes toward his brother, who is now lazily swinging his swivel chair left and right, his long legs still propped arrogantly on the table.

"Fuck off."

Understood.

The executives know better than to try their luck with Sanzu in his post-murder state, but someone(cue: Haitani) knows there is another wave of missions he has to address. It needs to be said now, because this next task is bigger and far more terrifying.

"Is this your last order for today?" Rindou is the second one to break the silence.

Unlike the advisor, who sought only to placate Sanzu, the younger Haitani’s voice is laced with a sharp, subtle teasing--as if he holds the one secret that could knock the mad man off his feet.

Sanzu bores his shaking, bloodshot eyes into Rindou. His movements are sluggish, yet he still manages to point his gun directly at him. "I said fuck off."

Rindou should take that as a final warning, but what is a Haitani if not a professional provocateur? If his voice earlier held a hint of a tease, his face now displays full-blown smugness as he prepares to drag Sanzu back to earth.

"Ah, hah… I just thought you’d appreciate a little briefing before your next 'mission.' That’s why I’m asking if that was your last order. Guess I’ll just let you stay fucked up then." Rindou’s words are laced with the fakest concern imaginable, yet he remains brave enough to meet Sanzu’s glare head-on.

Everyone in the room knows the number two is a single snap away from slipping back into feral mode. However, this is Bonten, and Sanzu going ballistic is a familiar, everyday sight. It is dangerous, certainly, but for others it is quietly entertaining.

And when it comes to entertainment, who would dare miss out? Certainly not the Haitanis.

That’s when the older brother, Ran, interjects. His voice snapping the tension between Rindou and the mad dog just before his younger brother gets bitten.

"When was the last time you went home, Sanzu?" Ran asks, straight to the point. He’s trying to gauge a different reaction from the pink-haired gangster, but to no avail. Still half-lost in his own head, Sanzu lazily redirects his aim, pointing his gun toward Ran.

"Why are you fucking ganging up on me, huh? You two motherfuckers know I'd beat the shit out of you, so fuck off--"

The almost slurred threat only makes Ran giggle like a little devil. He knows what's coming, and judging by the subtle shifts in Kokonoi and Takeomi’s expressions, they know too. They know exactly where this is headed.

"Just askin'. If I were you, I'd fuckin' straighten up and prepare."

"Hell yeah," Rindou chimes in from the back, sounding far too amused for his own good.

"What the fuck do you mea--"

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Ran interrupts.

Sanzu clearly doesn't understand what the fuck Ran is talking about. He's a joke, always was. But the mention of the word woman makes him stop swinging his chair. The gun stills mid-play between his fingers.

And just as the realization is about to hit him, the door slams open.

A woman stands in the threshold, draped in black from head to toe. The thin, delicate lace of a veil covers her face, obscuring her expression entirely. Despite her silence, her attire speaks for her--and everyone in the room knows exactly what it implies.

Funeral.

It’s as if Sanzu Haruchiyo’s brain is lagging, delayed in signaling that the woman who just entered is none other than his own.

He still looks the same, bloodthirsty. But when the sound of your heels clicking against the floor echoes through the room as you slowly step inside, it's like liquid poison slithering into Sanzu's crevices, exposing a crack in his visage.

You come to a stop just a few feet from his chair. Even though he can’t see your eyes behind the thin, dark lace of your veil, he can feel your gaze burning through him.

Your voice cuts through the silence, calm and razor-sharp.

"I thought you were fucking dead."

The silence in the room is absolute. Even the Haitanis, who would normally find this shit laughable, don't have the breath to let out a single snicker. They know exactly who you are, and more importantly, they know how far your brand of crazy can go.

Bonten is an organization run by the deadliest men in the country--men who command fear and respect with nothing more than a glance. They thrive on blood and build their empires on death. They are, by every definition, lethal. But all their power and ruthlessness pale in comparison to a woman neglected and denied of love for weeks.

That specific brand of fury burns hotter and sharper than any underground war. In this room, everyone knows it--especially your boyfriend.

"I even felt bad for not bringing a flower..."

Your right hand lifts the veil from your face, slowly setting the dark lace onto the table. Your eyes, cold and focused, finally lock onto his.

"Only to find out you're alive and kicking. How disappointing."

Your words act as a trigger, and Sanzu’s expression shifts instantly. The hell in human form who stormed into the room just moments ago pauses, a faint narrowing of his eyes betraying a flicker of realization.

The gun he's been spinning between his fingers slows, hovering for just a moment as he slowly drops his legs off the table. Just for a heartbeat, the relentless predator looks slightly off balance but undeniably aware.

As he's about to rip the words out of his throat, maybe to defend himself or maybe to assert his dominance, he feels the heat of a palm press against his cheek.

"Fuck you, Haruchiyo! You should've told me you didn't want me anymore instead of never coming home, you asshole!"

And just like that, you storm out of the conference room.

The impact of the slap seems to have forcibly awakened Sanzu. His bloodlust is gone, replaced by a frantic, jagged sort of desperation. He shoots to his feet immediately, his instincts kicking in as he scrambles to follow you without a second thought.

"Fuck! y/n!"

The doors swing shut behind him, and the moment he is gone, the executives left behind finally exhale. The tension that had been suffocating the room snaps, replaced by the sound of the Haitanis snickering like it's the funniest show they've ever seen. Ran is doubled over, while Rindou doesn't even bother hiding his grin.

The others simply shake their heads in disbelief at the sheer absurdity of the scene they just witnessed.

"That fucker actually got hit in the feels," Kokonoi mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"y/n come on! Goddamn it!"

"Stop following me, or I swear I'll bash your head into a wall. Don't test me, Haruchiyo!"

Your voice drips with acid, each word sharp enough to cut. It isn't an empty threat, and Sanzu knows it. He knows you like the back of his hand. Every edge, every breaking point. And yet, he wouldn't be himself if he didn't try to provoke you anyway.

You're furious and unhinged, but he's worse. Crazier. Madly, irreversibly obsessed with you.

"I told you, didn't I? I was on a fucking mission--"

"Does that require completely forgetting you have a girlfriend?" you snap.

No matter how hard he tries, he can't match your pace. The more you storm ahead, the more ridiculous it looks. The feared mad dog of Bonten reduced to something almost pathetic.

Lost in a stream of mumbled curses, you don’t notice how quickly the pink-haired gangster closes the gap. In a snap, a hand clamps around your wrist like a vice, and suddenly you’re being dragged in the opposite direction.

"Get off! I don't want to go with you--fucking let go! I'm breaking up with you!"

"Like hell you are!" Haruchiyo snarls back.

His grip tightens as he tugs you toward the nearest door he can find. You retaliate immediately, slapping his arm in an attempt to make him release you. When that doesn't even make him flinch, you resort to pinching him instead.

"Haruchiyo--"

He shoves the door open and drags you inside with enough force to make you stumble, his grip on your wrist never wavering. The sudden jolt makes your rage falter, though he’s too focused to notice.

When he finally spins around to face you, he freezes. He's taken aback by the look on your face, because while anger still burns in your expression, your eyes are glossy and wet, threatening to spill over as they lock onto him.

"There's no point in talking. I'm so done with you."

You try to yank your hand free, but the more you struggle, the tighter his grip becomes. He stays rooted in place, staring at you like something is turning over in his head, like gears grinding against each other.

"Let me go, Haru--"

"I don't want to. We're fucking talking here." he bites back.

He drags you again, this time toward the wide office table. When he lets go of your wrist for a split second, it’s only to slide his hand immediately to your waist. With a surge of effortless strength, he lifts you and sets you down on the edge of the mahogany table. He steps in close, boxing you in, leaning down just enough to force you to look at him while bracing both hands at your sides.

"What part of I have multiple orders didn't you fucking understand?" he growls, his face inches from yours.

"You could've started with an apology, you fucking psycho," you snap back, refusing to be intimidated even as you sit perched between his arms.

You watch as he closes his eyes, his jaw tightening as his patience visibly thins. But instead of making you back down, it only ignites your fury further. How dare he look like the victim when he's the one at fault? How dare he act like this is exhausting for him, when you're the one who was left waiting, neglected, and grieving a man who wasn't even dead yet?

The moment you accepted Haruchiyo's affection (obsession) you knew it came with a heavy price. He isn't some normal man with a clean job and a respectable title. His name alone carries a weight that makes even the most hardened criminals falter.

Sanzu Haruchiyo is a difficult, violent man, yet when he offered you his blood-stained hands, you took them without hesitation.

Trusting.

You were introduced to the chaos of the life he leads, grew familiar with the shadows he inhabits, and even learned to turn a blind eye to the horrors he commits. You did it all because you learned to love him, and you realized a long time ago that loving a man as insane as Haruchiyo would eventually compromise your own sanity as well.

Sanzu groans, eyes closing as he lets out a sigh. That's your cue. Whatever you're asking for is just as ridiculous to him as the slap you delivered in front of his colleagues.

Impossible. He won't apologize. He never will.

You place a hand against his chest, the fabric of his suit still warm and smelling faintly of iron, and try to push him away. "Get off. This talk is useless. Just let me go home."

The acid that laced your voice moments ago has softened into a controlled whisper. It sounds tired--surrendering. Because, as you’ve realized, this conversation is a dead end. Not after witnessing just how far gone your boyfriend is today. His bloodied, relentless state says it all. There is no room in his head for remorse or the gentle "sorries" of a normal man. You have to accept that.

However, Sanzu has other plans.

Instead of letting you push him away, his hands tighten around your waist, pinning you in place. He leans in closer, invading your space until he buries his nose against the curve of your cheek, breathing you in.

"Let me go--"

"We'll go home after this," he murmurs against the apple of your cheek, punctuating the promise with a sharp, possessive nip.

"No. Let me go home--to my own house, Haru." Your voice finally cracks, a small, broken sniffle slipping out as the tears you’ve been holding back finally well in your eyes.

You're so, so mad at him that the slap hasn't been enough. You want to claw at his skin, pull his hair, bash his head into a wall just like you promised. But the betrayal of your own heart is the worst part. How can one kiss, one touch, make all that righteous anger start to melt away?

When Sanzu feels the wetness glide down your cheek, he pulls back slightly. He looks just like he did earlier: stuck. Those internal gears visibly grinding as he tries to process your grief. Subconsciously, as your tears continue to fall, his hand reaches up to brush them away.

"Stop."

"Wh-what?"

"Stop crying."

"Then fucking apologize! I thought you were dead because there were no updates from you! You told me you would call! or at least message me so I'd know you were still fucking kicking!"

Your anger flares again, reignited by the memory of silent nights spent waiting. Waiting for your man to come home in one piece. Even bloodied, wounded, or high--at least he'd return alive.

"Or you could've at least ordered one of your men to tell me you were still breathing and just busy slicing people! Haru, i was waiting!"

You wail through your words, and Haruchiyo continues wiping your tears as he listens. You don't notice that the more venom you spit at him, the calmer his expression becomes.

"And you're still not apologizing. I'm so sick of you." you whisper, exhausted.

Once he’s satisfied that your cheeks are dry, he leans in again, his face hovering dangerously close to yours.

"You know I can only bring burner phones during errands--"

"Then you could've ordered your men to update me--"

"I don't want any bastards near you."

It's the only explanation you're going to get--a possessive, irrational truth. But then he closes the final gap, kissing your lips roughly as if you’re the very air he needs to survive.

And for the first time that day, pressed against your mouth, the monster finally calms.

"H-haru--"

He doesn't stop. He refuses to let you speak another word, sealing your mouth with his and catching the gasp that escapes you. He takes the opening to deepen the kiss, his tongue mingling with yours in a way that is as demanding as it is desperate.

You taste a mix of sweetness and bitterness, maybe from the soda he always drinks before errands, or from whatever illicit medicine he's taken but it's familiar. It's something you've grown used to, something you love.

You press your palms lightly against his chest, a silent plea for air. Haruchiyo doesn't protest, but he doesn't pull away either. He only gives you enough distance, just an inch, so you can breathe, but close enough for his words to fall straight against your lips.

"You're always in my mind, y/n."

It isn't an apology. It’s a confession of his obsession. But the raw fervor dripping from his voice is enough to finally settle the storm inside you.

You accepted long ago that apologies are impossible for him. A man in his position will never humble himself over his wrongdoings. This is the path he chose and the life he lives.

Still, Haruchiyo has his own way of compensating: through his devotion and constancy. Even if he can't contact you for days, weeks, months, or even years, you will always be the center of his obsession. His own poisonous sweetheart.

"I don't know if I should be flattered by that," you mutter. "Imagine you slicing someone up and thinking about me."

He pecks your lips twice before nosing along your cheek, lingering there until his scarred lips brush your ear. His voice drops to a lower octave as he whispers,

"Keeping you on my mind is what makes me finish the job fast…"

You grip his shoulder when you feel his hands tighten around you once again, pulling you closer and closer until he settles firmly between your thighs.

"…I rush through it all just so I can come back to you."

You grab his hair and pull him off you to smash your lips against his. The kiss turns heated within seconds, both of you rushing to steal each other's breath like it's the only thing you know, like it's the only reason either of you exists.

Sanzu groans when you tug harder. You want him closer, close enough to crawl into his skin if it were possible.

You pull back just enough, breath ragged against his swollen lips.

"Let's go home now," you whisper. "Baby, please. Let's go home."

"Anything for you."

He hoists you off the table, and you immediately lock your legs around his waist. Without breaking his stride, he turns and bolts for the door, hauling you out of the office as fast as he can.

Because even if every corner of that office, that building, and every Bonten executive has witnessed how crazy the two of you can get, they will never know the madness you share behind the four walls of your room.

Oh, how love can be this insane.

↬ Haitani Rindou

Years of dominating gang fights in their youth and a growing tally of kills in adulthood have solidified a formidable reputation for the Haitani brothers.

Terrifying, merciless, and vicious.

Those three words define the infamous duo of Roppongi. Yet, while they are cut from the same cloth of violence, subtle cracks in their unity reveal the distinct traits that set them apart. Their kill counts may be nearly identical, but the methods they use to reach those numbers are fundamentally different. It is this divergence in style that truly defines them, even as they stand together on the same side of a blood-soaked field.

For instance, the older brother, Ran, can take a life while wearing the nastiest of smiles. He moves as if murder is nothing more than a pleasant pastime. That smile is charming--even genuine, and is often enough to fool an enemy into lowering their guard. Usually, they don't realize they are being led to their deaths until their own blood is already splattered across his Giorgio Armani leather shoes.

But every coin has two sides, and the Haitani name is no exception. Flip it over, and the image that stares back is something entirely different.

The younger brother--Haitani Rindou.

Word in the underground scatters that the younger Haitani is colder than his aniki. Though they are both sadistic by nature, Rindou is the definition of cold-hearted and ruthless. His expression in almost every endeavor is impassive, and if someone or something manages to draw a reaction from him, it is almost always followed by a cold-blooded execution.

In short, if some believe they can work around Ran before he kills them, others know to walk on eggshells around Rindou.

That is their main difference, and the men in suits are about to experience it firsthand as they wait for the arrival of the said gangster. They know exactly the kind of person they are about to deal with, hence, they maintain a stiff and calculated act despite the blaring music that shakes the room.

Rindou wanted this negotiation to happen in a club.

They couldn't say no. What power do they have to refuse? They are here to negotiate, and the least they can do is offer their best impression of submission, hoping that he might, just might--consider their deal.

"Is he coming? Or did we arrive at the wrong club, boss? It's been an hour."

The man in the suit, clearly a subordinate, leans closer and whispers to his superior--a man in a brown three-piece suit who has been seated in the VIP section for over an hour now.

While the stress doesn't show on his face, it is beginning to pile up beneath his calm exterior. It’s true, an hour has passed and there is still no sign of the man who owns this club.

Still, showing impatience would be the worst possible move. It is safer to appear compliant, to sit still and wait, than to risk being noticed for the wrong reasons. Any sign of irritation could be reported back to Rindou, causing him to walk away from the deal, or worse--ensuring the man ends up with a gun pressed to his skull.

"Let it be," he replies evenly, his voice steady despite the tension. "Mr. Haitani must have matters to attend to. He is simply late."

The subordinate bows his head once more before stepping back to his position, leaving his boss alone with his thoughts. The man focuses on the rim of the glass in his hand, fear slowly mixing with worry as the minutes drag on inside the deafening club.

The environment irritates him. The thumping music and flashing lights strain his eyes, sending a dull ache pulsing through his head. But showing even the slightest discomfort will do him no good, not when the entire couch is surrounded by Bonten's men

After a little while, the guards stationed around the VIP section shift.

It’s subtle, almost imperceptible but practiced. They scatter just enough to acknowledge a presence that has arrived, their bodies aligning to create a clear path for the man everyone has been waiting for. And despite the pounding music and the chaos of the club, the air seems to fall into a heavy silence the moment Bonten executive Haitani Rindou steps into view.

A posh young gangster. That is the first thing the other party notices when Rindou appears. But beneath the expensive exterior is an aura that screams full-blown, cold-blooded criminal. His face is a mask of detachment. He remains unsympathetic and untouched by the noise and bodies pressing in around him.

The boss, though nerve-wracked by the gravity of meeting a Bonten higher-up for the first time, calmly stands to greet him.

"Good evening, Mr. Haitani. Thank you for sparing us your time."

Rindou doesn't spare him a glance.

He simply sits down across from them, his posture relaxed and his gaze fixed anywhere but on them. The boss remains standing, stiff and uncertain, as if waiting for Rindou’s permission to sit. Instead of speaking, the mullet-haired gangster lifts his hand in a lazy gesture, and a subordinate immediately steps forward to pour his drink.

Only then does Rindou flick his eyes toward the man.

That is the cue.

The boss sits down at once.

"I’m giving you thirty minutes" Rindou says calmly, his voice flat and uninterested. "If I find your deal trash, I’m killing you for wasting my time."

It isn't a threat. It is a deadly promise. Everyone on that couch knows his words are absolute. No cheesy smile or kissing up his ass will ease the younger one unless the conversation comes with a clear purpose.

The boss starts immediately. Though his facade of calmness is beginning to crack, he does his best to straighten his back and clear his throat. "M-Mr. Haitani, we’re here to propose a partnership. A supply route."

Rindou doesn’t react. He leans back against the couch, one ankle resting over his knee and his eyes drifting elsewhere as if the man speaking isn’t worth facing yet. The glass in front of him remains untouched.

The boss continues, "We have access to ports in Yokohama and Chiba. Clean entries. No paper trail. We can move goods in bulk without customs interference."

Despite his nervousness, the boss finds himself searching the young one's face for any sign that his words have offended or provoked him. But all he notices is Rindou’s unwavering gaze fixed on the crowd below, as if he is watching something.

Guarding it.

Still nothing. No nod, no change in expression, just that same impassive stare until Rindou finally breaks the silence, his voice flat and detached as he asks

"What kind of goods"

"Firearms. Pharmaceuticals. Whatever Bonten requires," the boss answers too quickly. "We can guarantee discretion and efficiency."

This time, Rindou finally spares him a glance. The movement carries a hint of irritation--not because of what the boss said, but because Rindou has been pulled away from whatever he was watching below.

"You came to me.....with routes I already own?"

The air tightens.

Everyone on that couch feels it, especially the opposing party. Even though they've come prepared not to displease the younger Haitani, no one can truly predict how this ordeal will end.

The boss’s pretense of calm finally cracks under the weight of that silence. He stumbles for words, his mind racing to find an explanation that won’t further infuriate Rindou, but nothing comes. Not while the executive is staring him down with a deadly, focused intensity that feels like a physical threat.

"N-not ownership, Mr. Haitani. Coverage. Expansion. Y-your men control Roppongi…"

As the man tries his hardest to save face, Rindou’s scowl deepens, though his attention is already drifting away. His eyes snap back down to the chaotic crowd below, searching for the one thing he had been guarding, only to find that the space is empty and whoever he was watching is gone.

"…but these routes extend further. We're offering reach--"

Before the boss can even finish his stuttered explanation, Rindou’s eyes lock onto a sudden movement at the base of the VIP stairs.

A figure ascends toward the section, weaving effortlessly between the guards who part for her without a single question.

A woman.

Clearly tipsy by the way she sways as she walks and the soft flush of red coloring her cheeks. There is a lightness to her, a sense of genuine happiness that feels entirely out of place in this room, yet she is heading straight toward the center of a deadly negotiation.

Towards them.

Every man on that couch turns to watch her approach, waiting for the moment she comes to her senses and realizes that this part of the club isn't meant for her. To the other party, she looks like nothing more than a lost girl who has wandered too far, a silly, pretty distraction looking for a rich man to latch onto for the night. The boss’s face hardens with visible irritation, feeling disrespected by such an amateur interruption as he prepares to gesture for her to be dragged away.

However, despite the breach of protocol, Bonten’s men don't move. They stand like statues, offering no resistance as the woman reaches the booth and suddenly drops herself onto the leather cushion beside Rindou, latching onto his side with a playful familiarity.

The boss smirks to himself, oh hell no. He waits for the young executive to snap her neck or throw her to the floor, certain this woman is about to find out exactly whose arm she’s clinging to. Until--

"Hey, handsome~"

You trace Rindou's sharp jaw with your manicured finger, feeling the faint stubble you had helped him shave just that morning.

"You busy?"

Your words slur, followed by a soft laugh you can't help as your touch wanders from his jaw down to his chin, eventually ghosting over his lips. His expression doesn't waver until, without warning, he turns his head and bites your finger.

"I'm in the middle of business, y'know."

The bystanders don't know what to process first. The club continues to pound with life, but the atmosphere within the booth shifts the moment Rindou reacts. The once cold, impenetrable gangster--a man whose expression was nonexistent just seconds ago is now displaying a side they never imagined seeing. Yet, even as the unbelievable scene unfolds, no one dares to interrupt the unnamed woman at his side.

Scolding him for his behavior, you poke your finger into his cheek. Rindou lets his head tilt slightly with each poke, neither stopping you nor offering much of a reaction at all. While his face remains largely unreadable, his patience is unmistakably reserved only for you.

He catches your elbow as you lean closer to his ear, his grip firm but careful.

"And if you're in the middle of business," you murmur, voice low and teasing, "why do you keep eye-fucking me down below, huh? Mr. Haitani."

That does it.

Rindou lets out a roaring laugh--the first real emotion he has shown all evening. It is in that moment that everyone seated on the VIP couch realizes the truth: the power is no longer in the hands of the young executive.

It is in yours.

One look at your boyfriend tells you everything you need to know. The business he came here for has already slipped to the back of his mind. Given the choice, he would gladly choose you over this deal without a second thought.

His hands, always itching for violence, only soften when they wrap around your waist to pull you firmly against his side. The smile remains etched on his lips as he noses your cheek, his voice dropping into a private whisper.

"I’m just looking out for my girl. Can't have any asshats thinking you're available, can we?"

"In your own damn club?" You scrunch your nose. "They'd have to be really stupid to even dare, babe."

They really would be. Everyone knows who you belong to, and even though being with a Haitani--a high-ranking criminal executive comes with a constant shadow of danger and envy, you know it's worth it.

Because it’s Haitani Rindou who has you, and for him, you'd take every risk.

"Have you seen yourself, doll?" he murmurs, his eyes dark with a possessiveness he doesn't care to hide. "Some bastards would risk eating lead just to get a taste."

Even though you’re already tipsy from the alcohol, you find yourself getting drunker on his words, knowing they are a luxury reserved only for you. The Haitani Rindou everyone else knows--the cold, manipulative, and ruthless bastard is nothing more than a flirty boyfriend in your arms, one who craves you relentlessly.

Suddenly, the VIP section vanishes, leaving the two of you in your own world. You trade filthy, flirty whispers, ignoring the fact that he is in the middle of a high-stakes negotiation. Neither of you gives a fuck--not when he sits at the top of the food chain in this territory, and certainly not when you're the one who has him wrapped around your finger.

Rindou’s hand slides up the back of your neck, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear as he leans in to nip at the sensitive skin there. He feels the way you shiver against him, narrowing his focus down to the heat of your body. You respond by tracing the line of his jaw, your fingers caressing the sharpness of it. When he's about to lean closer to kiss you, you touch his lip, making him stop just inches away.

"Baby, you should focus on your business now--"

"Hm?" His eyes shift towards the nearest exit. "You wanna go home?"

"Rind--"

"E-ehem."

The stiff, nervous voice cuts through your bubble, trembling with a mix of fear and desperation.

"Apologize f-for interrupting you, M-Mr. Haitani, but--"

Rindou pulls away slightly, his hands still anchored to your skin. The indulgent warmth he was showering on you vanishes in an instant, replaced by his usual sharp, clinical edge.

The boss immediately feels the temperature drop. Nervousness climbs up his throat until he is incapable of forming proper words, his body instinctively reacting to the danger radiating from the couch.

"Yeah," Rindou says flatly, "You should fucking apologize."

His tone is calm, but it's more than enough to send everyone on the other side a clear warning--they're on fucking thin ice.

Sweat beads along the boss’s temple as he tries to humble himself, his posture breaking in front of the purple-haired executive.

Hands trembling, he stammers "I-I apologize again, Mr. Haitani. I-I didn't mean to interrupt. I--"

He scrambles for a way out but none exists. Rindou’s silence alone feels like a death sentence no matter what excuse follows. You watch the man struggle to save his own life, desperation written across his face. It’s uncomfortable to witness, especially since you know this predicament started the moment you wandered into their meeting.

To compensate, you gently tug on your boyfriend’s suit lapel.

"Rin… I’m exhausted. Can we go home now?" you whisper, the words meant only for him.

That is all it takes. Rindou cuts his death glare from the trembling man and shifts it to you. The change is subtle. The way his eyes soften from a predator's gaze to something gentle, and you are the only one in the room who would ever notice it. He doesn't speak, but his eyes ask a silent question: Are you sure?

You nod, offering him a reassuring smile.

Rindou stands abruptly, tugging you along with him. The boss remains bowed, not daring to lift his head or meet the eyes of the man who holds his life in his hands. Everyone in the VIP section holds their breath, waiting for a command that might end in blood.

But Rindou doesn't spare them another glance. The meeting is already a complete waste of his time. His arm wraps securely around your waist as he guides you away from the couch. Then, with the fatal desperation of a man who has already lost, the boss suddenly shoots up.

"M-Mr. Haitani, about the deal--"

"There’s no more fucking deal," Rindou cuts in coldly "You get it?"

The man stiffens.

Rindou doesn't even bother to look back as he speaks, his voice echoing with a dark authority. "Be thankful my girl spared your life tonight. You should be kissing the streets she walks on."

He leaves them dread-filled and shaken, deciding that not another second should be wasted on this pathetic company. As he leads you out of the club, a giggle slips past your lips and it doesn't stop until you reach the cool air of the parking lot.

Only then does he turn to face you. "What’s funny, hmm?"

Your giggle turns into a full laugh as you sway his hand, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I just realized something. You only speak in longer sentences to other people when it’s about me. I wonder…" You poke his chest teasingly. "If you have a crush on me."

His expression shifts into the one he only ever wears for you: stubborn, boyish, and soft in ways no one else will ever see.

"You’re telling gang bosses to kiss the streets I walk on," you add, grinning. "Damn, you’re whipped."

Rindou rolls his eyes, but the smirk curving his lips betrays him completely. He reaches out, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss. Despite his rough reputation, his mouth is gentle and unhurried against yours. When he pulls away, he bites your chin lightly before pressing three soft kisses to the spot.

"Keep teasing me," he murmurs against your skin, "and I’ll put that mouth to good use."

A daring smile plays on your lips as you lean back just enough to meet his gaze. "Can't wait, Rin. Use it. It's yours to begin with."

Rindou’s response comes not in words, but in the way he collapses the small distance between you to claim your lips once again. The kiss is torrid and hungry--a desperate promise of exactly what will happen the moment you are both behind closed doors.

Haitani Rindou may certainly be the coldest of them all, but you will never feel that chill. Not when he only burns for you. You are the only one who keeps him warm in this cold-blooded world he has built. And if you ever asked him to burn it all down for you, he would. Gladly.

↬ Haitani Ran

"Enough, Ran… aniki. That’s enough. I said enough, nii-chan."

Haitani Ran’s bloodied hand, white-knuckled around a metal pipe, freezes midair. It is as if a sudden light has cut through the suffocating darkness of the room the moment he hears his brother’s voice calling his name. Though his grip remains firm, the harsh tension around his eyes begins to loosen, and the blinding rage that had consumed him eases away little by little.

Finally, Ran lowers his hand and stares down at the mangled, lifeless body beneath his dress shoes before carelessly tossing the pipe aside. The heavy metal clatters against the concrete, a sharp sound in the sudden quiet. He spits on the ground and nudges the corpse with the tip of his leather shoe, his voice raspy as he mutters, "This one was fucking tough."

He steps back, seemingly oblivious to the state he is in--bruised, wounded, and covered in a mixture of his own blood and theirs. The adrenaline that had been masking the damage finally ebbs away, allowing the pain to catch up to him all at once. His knee buckles, sending him into a near-collapse, but Rindou is already there, catching him and looping an arm securely over his shoulder.

"Man… fuck this shit," Ran hisses through grit teeth. His hand clenches around Rindou’s shoulder for support while his other presses firmly against the blooming heat of a wound at his side.

"You didn’t look affected by your injuries while you were beating those assholes to death earlier," Rindou notes, his voice steady despite the weight of his brother.

Ran turns to him, his breathing remaining ragged and shallow as they begin the slow, limping trek toward his parked car. "It was a surprise ambush," he exhales, his voice heavy with a mix of exhaustion "Didn’t know there were that many of them. Fucking bastards."

The hostility that had almost drained from his face rushes back the moment he remembers the situation he had been in just minutes ago.

Bonten Executive Haitani Ran had been ambushed.

It is a reality he has long since accepted. He knows that at any second of any day, someone is trying to drag him six feet underground.

To the authorities, taking him down represents a win for the system. A chance to lower crime rates and perhaps earn a medal or two. But for those who live in the same filth of the underground, killing a Haitani means something else entirely. It is a grim honor, a quest for prestige and bragging rights soaked in blood. Ran understands that every second of his life is spent walking on a blade, his very existence a target for anyone looking to make a name for themselves by toppling a powerhouse.

However, even for a man used to the shadows, he hadn’t expected the attack to be this bold. No matter how prepared he is to fight to the death, he cannot escape the physical toll of the encounter. His anger flares, not at the audacity of his enemies, but at the vulnerability of his own body.

Haitani Ran, whose life has been forged and surrounded by the blood of others, finds himself hesitating when it comes to his own. It isn't the pain that gives him pause, nor the looming possibility of death, rather it is the knowledge that someone is going to see him like this.

For Ran, the thought of her seeing him broken is worse than the ambush itself.

"So… are you going home in that kind of state, aniki?" Rindou asks, handing Ran a cigarette along with a lighter.

Despite the pain screaming through every fiber of his body, Ran refuses to get inside the car just yet. Instead, he remains standing by the hood, one hand braced against the metal as if he needs the support to anchor his racing thoughts.

"That’s exactly what’s got me fucking pissed," Ran mutters, his fingers steady as he lights the cigarette. "How am I supposed to go home looking like this? She’d probably let hell loose."

As he inhales, the smoke curling around his bruised features, his mind drifts through every possible way to mask the damage. Not going home isn’t an option; even if he dreads the scolding that inevitably comes from letting his skin split and bruise like this, his need to be in his woman's presence is stronger than his worries.

"Clean the gashes up. Make them less… you know, visible," Rindou suggests, his eyes fixed on his older brother. "Then wear something that can cover the bigger ones."

Ran lets out a long, painful sigh. Leaning back against the car he decides

“Let me shower at your penthouse first. I’ll think of excuses on the way home.”

He flicks the finished cigarette to the ground and limps toward the passenger seat, silently surrendering the wheel to Rindou. He sinks into the chair, needing to rest his aching body for a moment while his mind races to figure out how to hide the blood before he faces the woman who terrifies him more than death itself.

Ran is as fresh as he was when he left for work this morning.

He stands now in front of your door, wearing the crisp, ironed dress shirt and slacks he borrowed from his younger brother. There are no visible wounds--only the small scratch on his eyebrow he’s carefully taped and the faint, blooming bruise along the side of his jaw. He no longer smells of copper and violence, now he only carries the scent of his favorite cologne, the one you bought for him. With his appearance restored, he feels he can finally face you and hope you won't notice anything amiss.

Ran keys the door and steps inside. "y/n?"

His eyes scan the living room, searching for any trace of you. Usually, you would be sprawled on the oversized couch watching TV while waiting for him, but the screen is dark and the spacious room is empty.

"I'm home! Where are you, sweetheart?"

Despite his hobbled gait, Ran hurries to find you. After only a few steps, his breath turns ragged. Every inhale sends sharp pain shooting through his sides, particularly where the heaviest blows landed. Then, a sudden clanging sound echoes from the kitchen.

"Baby?" he calls once more, his voice tight with a mixture of pain and relief.

"Ran, are you there? I'm here in the kitchen, baby!"

He calms down at the sound of your voice and tries his hardest to wipe away any evidence of difficulty from his face and posture before heading straight to you.

Displaying his boyish smile, Ran leans against the doorframe just as he spots you bending down in front of the refrigerator. "I really don't mind this view--"

"Oh my god!!"

You almost drop the strawberry syrup, your breath catching as you steady it with a sigh of relief. You straighten and turn to the counter where your freshly made pancakes sit, courtesy of your late-night cravings. As you put the final touches on them, you sneak a glance at Ran, who is still leaning against the doorframe watching you.

"Don't sneak up on me like I'm your target," you say, shaking your head with a small smile. "You're late, baby. How was wor--"

That's when you realize it.

You set down the syrup and turn to face him fully. Ran, meanwhile, straightens to his full height and starts moving toward you. He looks normal enough as he makes his way over, doing his best to appear casual, but he doesn't know that the furrow in his brow, his careful steps, and the almost unnoticeable shortness of breath give him away.

"Hmm? What'd you make, sweetheart? Late night cravings again? Can I have some? I'm starving--"

"What happened, Ran?"

Ran stops. Only a short distance separates the two of you, but he goes completely still, searching your face as if weighing his remaining options.

He wonders if he should tell you the truth, or if he can keep up the pretense long enough for you to let it go--long enough for you to drag him to the couch, feed him your pancakes, and cuddle him. But that second option feels more impossible by the second as your expression shifts from soft concern to sharp realization.

"Ran--"

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Let's just go to the couch, yeah? And eat--"

You abandon both the staring competition and the pancakes, turning swiftly to the nearest cabinet to grab the medical kit. Ran just stands there watching you, his mind still racing for an out, still contemplating another lie. But the moment you grab his hand and lead him toward the living room, he knows better than to keep up the act.

You set the kit down and settle Ran onto the couch, the movement making him stiffen as his injuries protest.

"Baby, come on," he tries one last time, his voice a little thinner now. "It's really not that serious--"

"It's not that serious until you come home missing one of your limbs, or your eyeballs, or your head. Tell me, Ran, when would it become serious, huh?"

Your voice appears sharp, but the slight shake of your breath doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. That is enough for him to stop protesting, and he finally lets his hands fall limp at his sides.

He can accept the scolding because he knows it comes from a place of love. He can watch you unleash hell, knowing that’s how you care for him. What he can’t afford, though, is to see you crumble at the sight of him in pain.

Like now. Like how your hands shake as you pull wound cleansers and solutions out of the box. Like how, even though your words are as sharp as the stone he’d used to bash someone’s head earlier, your face is softened with a deep, aching worry.

When you finally look up at him, your eyes are brimming with unshed tears.

"y/n...."

His hands reach for your face, but you turn away, focused on the task at hand. Your fingers work to pull his long sleeves up, an order he obeys without hesitation, and the sight that greets you makes the tears finally spill over. There, fresh bruises and angry red gashes bloom across his pale, inked skin. You don't even want to think about the damage to the bones underneath.

"R-Ran… oh my god…"

You’re frozen, torn between dabbing the cotton on his wounds or simply reaching out to caress him. But Ran beats you to it. He gently grabs your hands, pulling them toward him as he begins kissing whatever his lips can reach,--your knuckles, your wrists, your fingers. He’s trying to soothe you, to tell you that even if he isn't fine physically, he is whole emotionally.

Because you are here.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. It's not that I wasn't careful during the fight, it's just that--"

He can't form any more words to ease your mind because the tears won't stop falling. All he can do is touch you as gently as possible, wiping away the salt from your cheeks and pressing kiss after kiss against your skin.

You accepted Ran for exactly who he is, even though the life you chose with him offers no promise of constant safety. For the sake of loving him with every breath you have, every dangerous and chaotic moment is deemed worthy.

Because it’s him. It’s Haitani Ran, and for you, that is enough.

You grab his jaw, moving carefully to avoid the bruise blooming there, and press a soft kiss to his chin. "I know… It’s just, how can I not let you get wounded and bruised every time you go outside? Baby, please, I don’t know what to do…"

It rips his heart to pieces. He knows that even though he is stronger and more brutal than you, even though he can take all the world's danger on his own shoulders while keeping you in the safest part of the town, in the comfort of the home he built for you, you are still searching for ways to keep him safe.

You are the only one who can rattle him like this.

"Just trust me, alright? I will always come back home to you. Alive and kicking."

Because you are his home. And he will always come back to you, just to hear you call him baby and ask if he’s alright.

Ran pushes you slightly so he can crouch down and bury his face against your chest.

Still hiccuping, you set aside the cotton and wrap your arms around his head, minding any hidden wounds that might be tucked beneath his hair.

"Please, please be extra careful next time, okay? If you must, don't engage in a fist fight. Just pull your gun to spare yourself from any injuries."

It isn't the right moment, but Ran lets out a chuckle. You just suggested gunning someone down in the softest, hushest voice. You're so fucking adorable.

"...and to spare them from their suffering," he adds playfully.

"Yeah, to spare them from suffering... or call Rindou to break their bones instead."

God, he loves you so much. You feel his hand creeping up to your chest, squeezing you gently. You let him. You know this is his way of grounding himself, of feeling that you're real and right here with him.

"Let's get you cleaned up, baby, before your hands do more and my pancakes get cold."

Ran sits up properly and faces your now-smiling face. He wipes the dried tears from your cheeks and pulls you in close, peppering your face with soft, lingering kisses. He kisses your forehead, each of your eyelids, and the tip of your nose, moving with a tenderness that seeks to erase every trace of your worry. Finally, he finds your lips in a kiss that lasts for several heartbeats before he pulls away to whisper,

"I'm home, baby."

Regardless of the pain, he is thankful because in your arms, he is finally home

it took you a couple of days to muster the courage to mutter his first name but never find the opportunity to say it. until the perfect opportunity arises.

somehow, Ran woke up on the wrong side of the bed that he decided to ignore you for the rest of the day.

"The cool older Haitani, notice me~" you whined as you poke Ran on his cheeks but receive no response as he continues to scroll through his phone.

"Babe" you continued but Ran continued to act as if you didn't exist. but you didn't give up.

"Sweetheart? Honey?" you continued, listing down words to find the magical password, it reach the point you were already crawled under his arms and were seating down on his lap. but Ran was a patient man.

"my cinnamon roll?"

you let out a sigh as Ran continues to scroll through his phone, actually finding it hard to ignore you, but more than half of him enjoys the nicknames you give blurting out. but he never thought you would grab both his cheeks and forcefully make him look at you.

"Ran" you coaxed so gently, as you stare at his eyes with so much gentleness, it took him a couple of seconds, eyes widening before a blush of red exploded on his cheeks, and seeing his reaction, your cheeks adorned the same color as is.

you attempted to pull back your hands but Ran was quick to stop you, putting his own warm hands on top of yours and nuzzling his cheeks on your palms.

"That's an underhand tactic Y/n" he grinned "I don't mind being called by you like that from now on"

you can't hide the smile on your face as he admits that, while Ran keeps replaying how you said his name so sweetly.

"I guess I should call your younger brother his given name too" you voice out once to Ran who immediately shook his head.

"don't bother, he can be the younger Haitani to you for the rest of his life"

Shuji Hanma

Hanma was called by his last name by everyone around him, considering you never heard someone call him by his first name. calling him by his last name felt so natural that it never crosses your mind.

until Kisaki pointed it out, making you wonder why you never thought about it when Hanma so casually called you by your first name even before you were dating.

Hanma was beating up someone as usual when you saw him again after Kisaki gave you a lot to think about.

"…Shuji" you called out loud to catch his attention, testing how it felt to say his name.

Hanma was midway punching someone when he flinches upon hearing your familiar voice with a somewhat familiar name. he stops midway, to glance back at you, an indescribable expression on his face.

he was only able to snap back to reality when the person he was beating up punch him straight right into the face. but it didn't stop him to knock out his opponent and make his way toward you, a serious glint on his eyes.

"Say it again" he demanded

"What is?" you teasily hum, playfully smirking at his sudden change in attitude, feeling your heart swell up knowing you had the kind of effect on him. but the moment didn't last as Hanma gently grabs both your shoulder to pull you more towards him before leaning down and resting his forehead on yours.

"one more time"

he sighs, while your cheeks feel warmer from the sudden proximity, his eyes telling how serious it is for him.

"Shuji" you let out so gently that his heart fluttered, a rare tint of red on his cheeks as he slid down his head, resting it between your neck and shoulder.

"Haa…you're driving me crazy"

God knows how long he's been waiting for you to say it, It's safe to say that Hanma loves it. a little thanks to Kisaki.

Keisuke Baji

"Hey, how come you're dating Baji-san but you're still calling him by his last name?"

It was a question randomly raised by Chifuyu one afternoon, and no matter how much you rack your brain you were not able to find the answer so you resorted to answering into something childish.

"you've known each other longer than I do but you still call him Baji"

"Hey!"

The conversation ended in playful banter, but Chifuyu's words kept echoing in your mind that you kept practicing on your mind, planning to call him by his first name the next time you saw Baji.

"…Keisuke" you shyly called out, lips parted as you mutter his name as you practiced on your mind a hundred times.

There was a slight flinch from him but Baji acted like nothing happened, naturally stopping what he was doing before your arrival, clearing his throat before answering back.

"what?" he asks, acting indifferent but his flushed cheeks say otherwise. the way his eyes keep darting anywhere but yours, you couldn't help but tease him, curious how far you push him into his limit.

"Keisuke" you called once more, further reddening the captain's cheeks as he quickly turned around to continue tinkering with his prior activities, his back at you as he tries to hide his flustered face, but the red tips of his ears won't fool you.

"Do you need something?" he barely let out, stuttering on the first letter.

"you look so cute do you know that?" you shot back with a laugh, happy with how he reacts to his name, getting more from what you bargained "…Keisuke"

"slow down y/n! my heart can't take anymore!"

Baji feels like his heart is going to explode every time you say his name, but nonetheless he likes hearing it coming from you.

Tetta Kisaki

It never bothered you that you kept calling Kisaki by his last name until it occurred to you that it may be bothering Kisaki, considering you two were dating. you were used to calling him by his last name that you didn't know how to approach the topic to him and just decided to do it when there was a perfect opportunity.

Kisaki was in a mad mood when you came to his office, his eyebrows were furrowed as he slammed his phone down the table before furiously writing on some documents.

"Something happened?" you hesitantly voice out as you slowly close the door behind you. Kisaki let out a sigh calming himself down.

"Just some things not going the way I intend it to be" he mumbled, briefly stopping writing before continuing once again.

you stare at his appearance, and he was obviously tired and tense. so being a good lover you walk towards Kisaki, plant yourself behind him, and let your hands wander on his shoulder, massaging his tense muscles.

Kisaki breathes out and loosens under your touch as your fingers rub the tense muscles on his shoulder. seeing that Kisaki calmed down, you felt like it was an opportunity to try out voicing out the name you mumbled on your mind countless times.

"you shouldn't push yourself too much, you're working too hard Kisa-...Tetta"

suddenly his whole body tenses as he drops the pen he was holding, before reaching a hand up to hold yours on his shoulder. letting out a breath as he grips your hand before he turns around, putting your hand up to his cheeks.

"say in once again" he mumbled as he looks up at you, and the vulnerability in his eyes has you blurting his name once again, this time more softly, causing a smile to appear on his lips.

"I knew it" he mumbles "hearing you say my name would sound so good" 

If Takemichi had ever told himself that he and Kisaki would end up best friends.. Well, past him would think he had gone nuts.

But here he is..

He and Mikey worked so hard to keep everyone safe, alive, and on the right track. Takemichi himself worked so hard to keep Hina alive. And somehow made it possible that someone who once was his enemy now saw him as a brother.

But Takemichi noticed a few things during his hangouts with his best friend. Kisaki's eyes still lingered on Hina. No it wasn't the same as before, that crazed possessive Kisaki was dead and gone. (Though his smart mouth still survived)

This was different..

Now that he thinks of it, he only catches Kisaki staring when he and Hina are showing public displays of affection. His gaze would soften and linger until the light in them dimmed. His face would slightly drop as he looked away and tried to find something to distract himself.

Kisaki was longing for a relationship.. He was the only one who didn't have that special someone to call his own.

Everyone in Toman has or had started dating. Even Mikey's had a girlfriend or two. Draken and Emma were dating. Kazutora casually goes out with girls. Even Baji and Chifuyu go on double dates with different girlfriends here and there. (Sadly they can't keep one. But they can't really be sad when the next girl is usually prettier than the one before.) Pah was in a committed relationship, Peh was also... Smiley and Angery were dating purple and pink headed twins. Sanzu had 2 girlfriends... and one boyfriend.

Yeah that one confuses him too...

---------------

"What's your type Kisaki?"

The four eyed smart ass looked up from his phone. Hanma was trying to get under his skin by sending a bunch of those "Forward this to ten people or you'll get hit by a truck." chain messages.

He was already annoyed. "What?"

Takemichi shrugged. "I'm just curious. What do you want in a girlfriend?"

He thought for a minute before shrugging and going back to blocking Shuji. "I don't know. -- I guess I like them sweet and caring. It'll be nice if they can handle my sarcasm and someone who isn't an annoying dumbass."

Takemichi nodded. "Ah. Cool."

Kisaki put his phone back in his pocket. "Anyways. I'm hungry, you?-- I'll buy it."

Shit, you didn't have to tell Takemichi twice. "Let's go--"

But as they started to walk towards the train station to find somewhere to eat. "Kisaki?"

"What?"

Takemichi smiled. "I'm going to find you a wifey."

Kisaki just raised his brow and snorted. "Shut the fuck up. Where do you want to go eat?"

Michi huffed."Geez attitude. Now I want something expensive."

Tetta walked ahead. "Keep talking like that and I won't need a girlfriend. You already sound like one."

".... You wish. Asshat."

Kisaki mocked him. "GeEzZ.."

-----------

Geez indeed...

Takemichi was running out of hope. Well, to be honest. He didn't have much to begin with. He could probably count the girls he knew on one hand. And at least two of them were taken, one being his own girlfriend and the other Draken's.

This was a bust!

The bell to the convenience store door rang as he walked in. There was a meeting in a few minutes but as usual, Takemichi had a hunger that needed to be satisfied.

He had plenty of time.

He grabbed his favorite orange juice. His hand hovered back and forth over the sweet buns that caught his eye. Melon or Chocolate? Melon or Chocolate? Melon or--

"Are you going to take the strawberry one? If not, can I squeeze by to get it?"

That voice-- he swore it sounded familiar-- His eyes landed on a face he thought he'd never see again.

"Y/n!!"

You jumped before you blinked at the guy blocking the entire aisle. "Takemichi?!"

You both didn't hesitate to go in for a hug!

He wasn't sure how you were brought into his and Mikey's journey. You just showed up one day and then you were gone. They met you at a younger age, but by the time you all reached elementary. Your father was transferred to a job in the States.

He missed you for a long time. And once in a while Hina brought you up and got sad all over again--

OH MY GOD! HINA!!!

He pulled away! "When did you--? Why are you here?! Hina! We need to go see Hina!"

You laughed. "My father got a promotion after all these years. They asked if he'd be willing to come back to Tokyo. My mother packed us all up before he got a chance to deny it. She said she felt safer here than where we were. We just moved into our new house this morning."

Takemichi dropped everything and dragged you with him to the meeting. He caught you up with everything that happened. How he and Mikey ran a gang called Toman together. How Hina was also a part of it along with the old crew Akkun, Yamagishi, Takuya, and Makoto.

You were shocked to hear about it but weren't really surprised. Takemichi had always been brave and rowdy. Even if he fought with tears in his eyes. The biggest surprise was when he lead you to a motorcycle and handed you a helmet. That was something you REALLY didn't expect..

When you arrived to a shrine that they supposedly had their meetings at-- Only one foot was able to plant onto the ground before your balance was thrown off.

It's a good thing who ever caught you was able to keep you upright.

"I can't believe it!! Y/n!! I missed you so much!!"

It was Hina... Takemichi may have let her know already. He just couldn't help it-- this was big news!

Hina's yelling then alerted Mikey. He peaked over everyone and saw you when Hina finally pulled away. "No shit.. Is that?"

Draken turned with furrowed brows. He's never been able to meet you before.  Kisaki just happened to see all the commotion as well.. He was curious and walked after Mikey. What had Takemichi done now? What stray has he brought to a meeting this time?

Why was Mikey hugging the stray?

Takemichi saw his best friend and smiled. "Kisaki! This is Y/n--"

Takemichi has never seen Tetta like this. It was almost like those cheesy romance movies that Hina and Chifuyu liked so much. All it needed was the lovey dovey music, and pink background with little hearts popping out of Kisaki's head.

The way his mouth hung before you introduced yourself to him. The way his smart ass was stumbling over his own words.

This was great! He was so going to tease him about this later!

Your phone rang--Shit! It was your mother. You were supposed to get yourself something to eat then return home to finish unpacking.

Mikey pouted. "Draken will take you hom--"

Takemichi hit Mikey in his gut. "Kisaki? You mind taking Y/n home? It's getting pretty dark. She shouldn't be alone--"

Kisaki didn't even complain?

Mikey hit Takemichi back twice as hard when the two of you walked away. "What was that for?"

Takemichi was on the ground fighting for his life. "He likes her Mikey! Kisaki actually got nervous around someone!"

Mikey scrunched up his nose. "Ew." He put his hands into his pockets and sighed. "A kids meal says it won't last.."

------------

Oh but it did last...

Takemichi was over the moon when Kisaki causally mentioned that the two of you went on a date. Then another and another.. A kiss at the end of a previous one made it official!

But even after weeks had passed.. Months even.. Kisaki was still quiet? He didn't gossip or mention you around the others. Just him?--

Until one meeting--

"Who the hell is that?"-- Baji's eyes were on a figure walking up to the shrines parking lot.  "Did you get a new girl already Tora?"

Tora looked up from his phone. "No? I'm still with Mika-- Why?"

Chifuyu snorted. "Mika? I thought your new girlfriends name was Miva?"

Kazutora looked down at his phone. "Shit! I've been calling her Miko... No wonder I'm blocked right now.."

Takemichi rolled his eyes. Fucking dumbasses...

Baji tilted his head. "She's cute. And coming this way?"

They looked at Mitsuya who shrugged. "Nobody I know.. Maybe a friend of one of the girls?"

Kisaki walked past everyone without a word. He didn't even see them-- His eyes only on you as you walked up to him with a little wave and smile.

(Baji) "Fucking four eyes has a girl?!"

Tora was flabbergasted. "I thought him and Hanma were butt buddies!"

(Chifuyu) "No offense to Kisaki but Ew... why him?"

Everyone froze when you looked over Kisaki's shoulder. Takemichi pinched the skin between his brows. These two didn't know how to fucking whisper for shit!

You gave them all a wave and they all turned dumb. Slowly waving back with out of sync "hey's" and someone actually mumbled "I'm single..."

Takemichi huffed. "Will you horndogs stop?! She's obviously taken!"

------------

They didn't stop...

Kisaki didn't bring you around much. And when you did show up he had you meet him in the parking lot. He dragged you away as soon as the meetings ended, no one could introduce themselves to you... No matter how hard they tried..

But that didn't stop them from talking about you when Kisaki wasn't around. From how cute you looked that day to when they thought they saw you out and about..

Then the subject started changing... How nice your body looked. How they wondered what you sounded like when-- was Kisaki even man enough to take care of you in that way? You must be around for the money he had.. Kisaki came from a well off family.. That must be it! Why else would a babe like you want anything to do with the nerd!

But what they didn't know was, even though Kisaki was an academic genius, he was no saint...

A closet pervert.

Only Takemichi was close enough to see his browser history. Not even Hanma knows what Kisaki was into--

But Takemichi knew he was a gentleman first. He'd never force you to do anything you didn't like. And you were a tough girl, you'd definitely kick Kisaki's ass.

But again.. that didn't stop the guys from trying.

Baji sat back. "I'm telling you. You should have seen the way this girl bended for me."

Pah snorted. "She can bend like Mikey's crazy straws for all I care. How was her throat game?"

Tora shook his head. "No, No.. Did her ass jiggle when you hit it from the back? That's the best part!"

Sanzu hummed. "None of that matters. How did she sound? The way they moan can make or break it."

Hanma nodded. "I've been with girls who sound like dying cats. I walk out with my pants still around my ankles and my dick sad-- fuck that."

Mistuya shook his head. "You're all horrible -" he looked around to make sure none of the girls were around. "Was she a squirter or...?"

Baji shook his head. "No slip and slide..."

Mitsuya waved him off and went back to his phone. He wasn't interested now..

Draken and Takemichi sat back and just listened.. They didn't tell their stories like the others-- Only because they never asked..

But Takemichi could see this was all a ploy. They wanted Kisaki to talk...

He stayed quiet as he sat down on the steps. His eyes glued to his phone as a text message from you came through.

Perfect.

Now was the time to put their plan into motion.

Baji laid his cheek on his palm. A fake ass pout on his stupid face. "Shit. My bad Kisaki-- This kind of talk isn't for little boys."

Takemichi could see him breaking. They've been chipping at the stone wall he built around you since the first day they all laid their eyes on you.

Kisaki shrugged. "I don't care. And I'm not a LiTTlE BoY.. I'm literally 18.."

Hanma smiled, his mocking tone was a full force wrecking ball.. "Aww poor baby. No need to get offended.. There is no shame in being a virgin Tetta. You'll get there one day."

This was how it's been going for the past few months. Takemichi could see Kisaki gritting his teeth--

His phone went off and he let out a sigh of relief. Hopefully you said something to put him into a good mood.

"I'm not a virgin, asshole. So you can all shut up about that shit. It's annoying."

Tora and Baji flew back and started laughing. Pah was holding his stomach trying not to dolphin laugh in Kisaki's face. Sanzu snorted and tried to cover it with a cough that sounded like he actually said "liar"... Even Draken made a slight face of disbelief.

Mikey walked up with a bored look. "Who's a virgin? Kisaki?-- Guys that's enough.  Kisaki just isn't ready to get his dick wet yet. It's okay buddy--"

The walls crumbled.

Kisaki slapped Hanma ( who was giggling like a school girl.) on the back of his head.

"All of you shit heads, shut the fuck up. I've only been in a relationship for a couple of months and I bet I already had my dick wet more times then you all have combined."

If Takemichi had pearls he'd be clutching them. Why couldn't he cover his ears when Kisaki started his angered rant.

×××××××××

It was like he was dreaming...

Was it too early to say he was in love? This had to be love or some type of twisted obsession.

The world revolved around you for all Kisaki knew. He thought about you every waking minute. And in his dream? They were only of you.

The way you smile at him, your pretty eyes.. So doe eyed that it hurts.

How soothing your voice is, even when you call him over the phone it makes his heart skip a couple of beats..

How when he's being an ass or accidentally says something sarcastic. You don't cower or get angry with him. You hit him back with something twice as hard-- so much so that it actually inflates his ego a bit.

Your always careful and actually use your brain.

When he's going on about his day, stressful or not, you sit there and listen. You give him good advice that he didn't even think of.. Sometimes you just hug him tight and kiss his face. Usually he'd be annoyed with such close contact but you? He was starting to think you had some type of magical powers or something.

Just you being close to him had him in his feelings. It was something he wasn't use to-- but he liked it..

Then when the small kisses became longer... They became more heated with roaming hands--

He didn't think he'd ever look at a person and think they were too good to be true.

You just being you was already perfect. But when it came time to take the relationship to the next step?

If Kisaki believed in heaven, it would be your body and your sounds.

The way your eyes water when your close. Fat tears rolling down your cheeks as he kissed them away.

How could someones body feel so soft and warm all over?

The way you cry out his name fried every single nerve in his body. How your little whimpers and moans sent electric tingles up his spine.

The way his muscles contracted in pleasure when your nails dug into his skin and he fucked you into the mattress.

A mattress that for sure needed to be thrown out really soon. He really needed to invest in waterproof bedding.

How you would gush for him. His favorite was when you were on top. Letting his tongue fuck your weeping hole as his nose tickled your clit. The way you pulled his hair and grinded your pussy against his face. He didn't care if he could breathe, he didn't care if your thighs felt like they could crack his skull when you came. This was a good way to die..

Did he mention that he liked you on top? He'll say it again.. "She's so fucking angelic."

He means it.

Your skin glittering with sweat. The way your hips roll and bounce has him curse under his breath. The way his mouth waters when your tits are bouncing right in front of his face.

And the toys...

That was something that had Kazutora almost falling out of his seat. Baji actually fell and took Mitsuya down with him..

He wasn't one for toys.. not really.. Anything done to give your body pleasure should be done by him-- Buuut. He'll admit... The way you fuck yourself with the (ur fav color) dildo the two of you picked out together has him wishing you'd let him touch you.

He wasn't ashamed to tell them you had him whimpering for you. On his knees between your legs, his own nails digging into thighs as you squirted all over his bed and himself. He wasn't embarrassed to tell them his eyes watered as he pleaded to you just to let him have a taste, just to feel you-- "please, please, please, I'll be good-- I promise!"

He was proud to let them know you LOVED it when he treated you like his own personal fuck doll. You'd ask for more, harder, faster-- as he rutted into you from behind. Your back in a nasty arch as your ass bounced and rippled when he--

×××××××××

"Kisaki?!"

Draken almost told whoever it was to fuck off. He didn't mean to get invested but--

(Baji) "Oh shit--"

Sanzu patted down his hair. "How's my hair?"

Hanma rolled his eyes. "Looks like shit" (as he rolled up his sleeves and tried to flex his freakishly long arms.)

Mistuya was turning pink and Mikey didn't want to look your way. He couldn't look at you the same now..

Tora wasn't blinking... Pah had his hands in his lap.

Takemichi felt weird... This wasn't right!

Kisaki stood up but Mikey stopped him. "Where do you think you're going?--"

Baji nodded. "That can't be it, right?! Give me some more details!"

Kisaki clicked his tongue. They all looked like starving puppies-- He hummed. "Nah."

Son of a bitch!

They watched him walk up to you. Your cute fucking outfit-- What was under it? More importantly how will they be able to ever see what was under that?

Kisaki kissed your cheek and grabbed your hand. You gave everyone a quick waved-- like zombies they waved back, all foaming at the mouth with their thoughts of you.

(Tora) "How much do you wanna bet they film some of the shit they do?"

Hanma shook his head. "They definitely do... You can't let seeing someone that pretty, in such a state go to waste."

Everyone agreed... Some silently.

They needed to figure out a way to get their hands on Kisaki's damn phone!

..................