before any of the bonten men could answer the treasurer, a loud voice from stories below began to shout endless apologies and excuses. some and if not all, stood up from their seats and directed their attention down to the man, pleading. despite it was supposed to be a mellowed night for the men, they’ve considered aiming bullets down at the sidewalk. 

“think he’s on drugs?” rindou inquired, his brother hummed in thought, “no, drunk.”

with a final shot of alcohol filling his throat, sanzu circles back around to reach for the gun that he taped under the table in case of a raid or… in low rates, his coworker irritating him. “how about we lose our money on bets? if i hit him with one bullet, 1000 from all of you.” his chest warming at the thought of winning.

yet the warmth disperses when he catches the sound of sliding doors, he turns his head to the being exiting—that being you. your features were exhausted, your hands filled with a box and he can only assume that the disturbance alone was affiliated with you, or at least was by the apologies.

you settle the box onto the railing, remaining muted throughout the tangent. “there’s my beautiful baby. i promise you, she meant nothing to me!”

by the mention of someone finally appearing, the executives glance around before noticing sanzu, watching you. his expression, amused by your own as it seemed you were listening carefully to the words that were being blurted out. “come on, you know i can’t live without you!”

a smile fidgets on his lips when he hears your choice of words, “then die already!”

as if it were permission, he tampers with the gun from before and takes a single blow at the man. multiple reactions came from his coworkers but for some reason, he was more drawn to your own and it wasn’t fear but a breath airing through your nose as you smiled, it was satisfaction.

while sanzu’s brother shouted at him for his actions, having to call a clean up crew before anyone reports the scene—he was staring at you, waiting for you to take notice of him and when you did, he voices loud enough for the two of you to hear. “hi neighbor.”

and you wave in return, replicating his exact words.

if it weren’t for the fact that there were no more meetings that day, ran wouldn’t have been able to take a moment and breathe. after the last and the consultation he had to take part in with his own thoughts, he just wanted to get away; from his brother, the gang, anyone and everyone.

but he will admit, he’s appreciative of his position and status because if it weren’t for that, he wouldn’t have the standby pedestrians parting the way for him. he would catch none to some of the realization settling in their eyes, fear swallowing their irises as they avert them forward—supposed you’d be stupid to cross the tall man with a bloody baton over his shoulder. 

but it seems you were because… you did.

it wasn’t entirely on purpose but exactly who’d do it with purpose if it weren’t meant for a fight. nonetheless, you were late for work and in attempts to multitask, you’ve taken the clear path ( clearly oblivious to the overcrowded sections beside you. ) and it just so happened to belong to the eldest haitani.

crashing into him, the papers littered the ground and seeped into the puddles from the current rain. with a blank stare, he watches you grow frantic over the papers as you try to come up with the words for an apology for the person you crashed into, not yet noticing who.

“i’m, uh, i’m sorry for—oh fuck, you’re that one haitani.” you stammered, cramming the drenched sheets in a pile as he nodded in confirmation. considering his previous want of getting away, his feet remained before your own and amusement flooded his senses, “yeah, what now?

“excuse me?”

your eyebrows cinch together as he repeats, “what now?

the people began to yield, entertaining themselves with their curiosity for what was about to unfold but you were more blinded by the fact that you were late and, unfortunately, more terrified of your boss than the man holding a weapon. “ah, i would love to get down on my knees and plead for forgiveness or whatever,” you meek with slight sarcasm, “but i am quite late for work but later... later i can do.”

ran watches you take one of the ruined sheets, mumbling under your breath and writing your number with a pen. handing him the sheet that flopped with water weight—which he holds with the tip of his fingers, you promise, “there you go, later though.” you empathize once more.

“promise?”

you repeat his words but with clarity but it falters as you inquire with a shy smile, “although, can you do me a favor by taking me to work, you make it easier to walk.”

he thought it was bold from someone who crashed into him but he couldn’t find it in him to decline, better yet, didn’t find it in him to never see you again.

“shit.” wakasa mutters, adamant to light his cigarette.

his luck began to little when his attempts at sparks completely cleared, leaving him to stubbornly flick the wheel.

he’s exhausted. his entire body is sore from taking kicks and punches from senju, he feels sticky from all the sweat—he just wanted a smoke outside, let the wind cool him off and then get back inside.. to be kicked around, again.

there’s a small hand that brushes against his, moving it to the side and there’s a flick of flame igniting the end of his cigarette.

wakasa narrows to the owner of the hand, finding you drawing your hand back from his cigarette before meeting his gaze and yours becomes alarmed. as if you had done that impulsively and didn’t mean to do it or maybe you simply grew intimidated by him but whatever it was.. he dismissed it and nodded in appreciation (for enabling lung cancer.). “thanks.”

within a couple of seconds, he hears your voice. “i didn’t mean to actually do that..” confirming his former thought.

“but you did.” he quips before taking a drag, narrowing his attention towards you and you nod. “but i did.”

you turn forth, looking back out on the street and you scrunch your nose at the smoke that airs next to you. though, it was your fault his cigarette was even lit so all you could do was accept it and breathe out the nicotine you’ve inhaled.

his back presses more into the wall as he turns to gaze over at you but you’re turned the other way, completely distracted elsewhere. the silence was comfortable, at least it was but he couldn’t help but break it. “you waiting on something?”

your head averts to face him, surprised that he spoke or was trying to spark a conversation with you but you didn’t mind. “the bus.” you quip, motioning towards the stop that was before you both but it was invaded with sunlight but completely empty of pedestrians. “the bench was hot.” he figured.

wakasa airs out a small ‘ah’ and offers a nod in understanding but he doesn’t make an effort to add anything else.

once again, engrossed with silence but now it was comfortable. aside from the occasional frowns you’d spare when he would exhale the smoke from his lips, sometimes blowing it towards you to enlighten a reaction—you didn’t voice a complaint, just a small pout. he doesn’t know you but… he thought it was cute.

from the corner of his eye, he watches your bus come near and stop right in front of the stop. having you step from the wall and inch closer to your transport but you halt when you hear him ask from behind. “will i see you again?”

he’s airing out smoke from his nose when you glance back at him and you nod. he tenses at your given expression when you respond, it differentiates from the others you’ve given him but he eases when he processes it.

“i’ll be here this weekend.” you smile.

“it might not sound fun to you but it is to me—besides, i’ve always wondered if your hair felt as fluffy as it appears.”

you watch him mull it over inside his head, looking adorable with his ‘thinking’ face on. you were minutes away from just pinching the color out of his cheeks when he mutters a mini “okay,” under his breath.

he makes himself comfortable on the floor by his bedside in front of you. your hand unties the band holding his hair, and fingers gingerly comb through his mane and untangle every knot you

in a matter of a few seconds, he was leaning into your touch and asking if you could do this for him from now on.

pidge had a field day scolding lance and hunk for snickering when he arrives at the training deck with his hair styled with different colored bands.

“are you alright?” your sweet voice pulls him out of his deep trance, your hands rest on his broad shoulders.

he nods and does what he can to conceal the flustered look seen on his face and heard in the timbre of his voice. “huh? yeah, i am, why do you ask?”

“you went quiet all of a sudden. is everything okay?”

a wave of embarrassment overflows him, best shown by the mellow blush tinting the apple of his cheeks. the feel of your touch brought him peace of mind, enough so he found himself momentarily lost for words. “yeah, it’s just… it’s just the way you braid my hair feels nice, really nice,” he stutters out.

you share an unspoken understanding as his words hang in the air. the rhythm of your fingers entwined in his hair became a comforting melody, soothing his racing thoughts. in that moment, he realizes the influence your touch had on him, and he cannot find it in himself to deny it.

as days turned into weeks, your boyfriend’s bashful request that you style his hair became a routine on slow days in the safety of his assigned room. allura, quick to notice any changes, reminds the other paladins and coran not to react or react whenever they caught him walking around the halls of the castle, his hair tied with a woman’s touch.

in your long-term relationship, lance catches on that dating you granted him the awesome privileges of hair-brushing and hair-playing. nothing in this world could compare to the delight he discovers in being babied by you—day in and day out.

the mere act of affection became his greatest motivation to fulfill his duties as the blue paladin. he realized early on that the faster he accomplished his responsibilities, the sooner he gets to retreat to his room and seek solace in your loving embrace. it became a cycle, where the anticipation of being with you fueled his productivity.

when the fateful day arrived, and you asked for his approval to braid his hair, his heart soared to celestial heights. on the inside, he rejoiced and offered his gratitude to whatever alien god might be out there. 

“anything for you.” his voice filled with adoration.

from that point onward, the thought of your nimble fingers skillfully weaving through his tresses sent his heart aflutter. 

he sits on his bed with his back turned to the door, content and waiting for your return with a hairbrush and hair bands and clips. he was beaming with excitement, unable to stifle the dope smile from appearing on his face.

“what’s got you all happy there, huh, babe?” you walk past the doorway, nodding to his fidgety demeanor before you settle behind him with a soft ‘oof!’’

“nothing~! it isn’t a crime to be happy that my girl is fixing my hair, is it?” 

the sensation of your careful touch and the casual, intimate conversation were pure bliss to him. it was in these moments it registered, without a shadow of doubt, he loved the domesticity of it all—down to the very core of his being. truthfully speaking, he couldn’t see himself with anyone but you in the future.

as you weave his hair into a clean updo, he eagerly recounts the events of his day, stories of the aliens he encountered; voice brimming with enthusiasm as he recounts their quirks and idiosyncrasies alongside the other intergalactic marvels he witnessed. and amidst it all, he rants about anything and everything that comes to mind.

“i still think the black lion made a big mistake choosing that hot-head over me,” lance chuckles, then earns a playful tug from you, “OUCH! easy there, it was just a joke! all in good-nature!”

it was pathetic.

with the scummiest attempt at a smile you’ve ever seen, he drawls out, “ya’ come here often, cutie-pie?”

you cringe hard.

“my visits here are none of your concern.” peering across at rindō, you give him a reassuring nod, telling him nonverbally to relax and concentrate on his set because you could handle one moron for the evening. it wasn’t a big deal to you, but it was for him.

every now and again, he takes a glimpse at you to check on how you were faring. he wanted to know you were find, despite the fact that he might have behaved like a madman. and he didn’t try to hide his emotions. the way the music would increase each time the stranger opened his mouth to offer another overused pick-up line was no fluke on his part either.

he knows you’ll turn down the advances of the ugly bastard, for sure. he knows you were highly capable of taking care of yourself. he saw how decently you carry yourself around his friends and associates.

however, it doesn't mean he won’t fret over your well-being or not be irritated about the unfamiliar bloke next to you. even from the distance between his station and the bar, he couldn’t help but keep a super close eye on you throughout the evening while he transitioned from mix to mix.

ran begrudgingly volunteers to run the DJ booth. 

he had been eager to intervene soon when he first glimpsed the immature scowl on his brother’s face. it was irritating to see him mope around like a mutt in desperate need of its owner. and it was an even more pathetic sight to witness on a haitani of all people.

lighting the cigarette hanging loosely on his lips, he motions for rindō to move along. it was conceited to believe he’d let him anywhere near his ‘darling booth.’ suppose he damages it; misses the ashtray and digs the bud to its body? besides, he’d rather spare himself the argument and continue to sulk in place unless beckoned.

“you’re being a pussy, rindō.” then exhales the smoke in his direction.

he says nothing.

instead he raises the volume until it drowns ran’s voice. the last thing he needs is for him to pull the ‘older brother’ card and nag his ear off.

his brooding comes to a halt once your eyes lock again; this time with you wordlessly asking for him to interject. a surge of adrenaline flows through his veins, he chuckles,

it’s been a while since he started a fight.

“get away from her.” his tone eerily aloof. whispers start up, filled with interest and fear for the guy who is about to meet his end.

“or what, four-eyes?” he mocks, and takes a long gulp of his drink before slamming it down on the bar counter with such force that several onlookers were surprised it didn’t break in his palm.

ran lets out a low whistle.

your boyfriend didn’t hesitate a second later to hit the man on the nose, earning a startled yell at his eagerness to start a brawl. and it didn’t end there! rindō grabs him by the collar and continues to harass him until he was begging for him to stop.

“did you miss me, ‘fuyu~ ♡?”

“can you not be annoying?”

takemitchy awkwardly laughs along. he didn’t know what to do. he heard many stories about the former vice-captain of the first division from baji and chifuyu, though, to finally hang out with the young man himself was a meeting he was happy he didn’t forget.

you happen to come as well which was a big relief since you could keep him in check before he drives chifuyu mad.

he would’ve never figured ryusei was once part of the tokyo manji gang, much more a vice-captain, by the way he carries the conversation for them all buddy-buddy. you had excused yourself from the table minutes ago to order more drinks for the group. and while it was subtle to most but not to takemitchy’s keen eyes, he caught his gaze wandering to your figure every so often to confirm you were okay.

ryusei takes his duties as your boyfriend seriously—enough so, he was willing to be thrown out of the restaurant. 

his patience was put to a test as soon as that bastard came up to you. he wasn’t familiar with his name yet he does recognize him as the coursemate you frequently rant about to him during those late night phone calls. in your words, he was a nuisance.

tanaka? or was it takaeda? whatever. he didn’t understand that “no” means “no,” desperate to arrange a date with you regardless of how goofy it made him appear.

“can you quit it? you know that i’m taken. so, why don’t you bother someone else, yeah?” he listens to you not so kindly turn him down. his mouth slips a wisp of a grin, he didn’t need to look to know your arms were crossed and your face bore the most judgemental expression.

“oh, c’mon! he doesn’t need to know.”

ryusei’s eye twitches.

“talk to a brick wall. ‘m not interested.”

one after another, a pool of thoughts flood his head, lagging his ability to think clearly. all that was going through his mind were methods to beat up this scumbag and a barrage of obscenities he would’ve said if you weren’t there to scold him like a disgruntled mother in front of his friends. 

chifuyu, who used to work alongside him, notices the quick change in his attitude and instantly sighs to himself for the ensuing catastrophe to happen. takemitchy, on the other hand, sweats from the heavy, tense atmosphere inside the booth.

“don’t make a scene!”

he rests a hand on his chest in mock offense. “i could never do that!” he pouts. “have you no faith in me, ‘fuyu? i’m simply going to make sure my girl is okay. i know you won’t get it but i’m sure takemitchy does.” then stands up before either of them could say a response.

“hey! what’s that supposed to mean?!”

up until this point, takemitchy had trouble viewing ryusei in the role of former vice-captain of the first division. he didn’t realize how unnerving he could be when you were the object of his ire. without the charming, boyish grin, his new friend emitted a darker aura. he would’ve meddled as usual but if hinata had been in a similar predicament, he would’ve done the same.

he shoves the bastard to the side and rests his arm by your waist to pull you away from his poor attempt at wooing you. “move it. you’re upsetting my girl here.”

ryusei would say he was a good partner. he was patient, not overprotective, and respected your boundaries. he wasn’t easily annoyed but this stranger was beginning to get on his nerves. he wasn’t going to cause any trouble, not after right after he swore he’d behave. he wasn’t listening to a word this guy said, he was going to shrug it off either way until he catches you mime a tiny, “do it,” at him.

your lover delivers a solid hit to his face before he can throw another remark. “what the hell?! fuck, she isn’t even worth all the trouble!” he shouts, as he slumps backward.

once he fled the restaurant, ryusei drifts back to his regular demeanor and feigns an injury in spite his time as a former gang member to have you coddle him.