#tr fluff

i mean, he's called invincible mikey for a reason after all.

"where'd ya hear that crap?"

"from a reliable source." comes the answer, hesitant, like he can smell blood in the water.

more laughter, more forced. less playful.

you shake your head, unnoticed, in your seat at the front of the class. it's ridiculous the way they glaze this guy.

"did this... source of yours have any proof?" another guy asks, "or just spouting bullshit?"

by this time you're done listening, you fix your headphones and stare out the window. letting your mind slip back into daydreams.

you head to the rooftop, it's usually deserted during free period, perfect for you.

pushing open the rusting metal door, stepping out onto the fenced in, definitely off-limits and restricted space, excited to be free of people.

your smile falls so fast when you spot someone up here. sitting in your seat no less.

well, it's not actually yours. it's the only bench up here. that's besides the point, right now you're determined to fight this guy over stealing your quiet, people free place.

no one ever comes up here

except apparently today.

you inhale, ready to unleash a mountain of sharp words at the... invader.

then he turns, like he sensed a disturbance in the force, dark eyes finding yours.

every insult dies on your tongue, instead you dumbly blurt out, "you're bleeding."

his lips twitch, almost into a smile, "i tripped."

"and fell on your face?" you question, doubtful.

there's tiny cuts along his jaw with a matching busted lip, plus undeniably the bruising of what will become the world's ugliest black eye.

"and fell onto someone's fist. repeatedly." he corrects. the way he says it, so carefree, uncaring. this is an average tuesday for him.

you can't imagine being so nonchalant about that.

your feet move before your mind does.

nudging him with your leg until he gets the jist, scooching over to give you room to sit. in your bag is a small first-aid kit, you pull it out, stealing a glance at the boy beside you.

he eyes you with a bored, skeptical expression.

sighing you pop a band-aid on his jaw, catching the way his eyes widen then soften.

"are you always this reckless?" you can't help but mutter as you calculate every injury, tallying up how many bandages it would take to fix him up.

he hums, tapping his foot against the floor, "always."

something about that look, that particular glint in his eyes that gives you pause. dots connecting. slower than you wanted to admit.

"what's your name?" aiming for casual, but it comes out probing.

he tilts his head, giving the impression of a puppy dog — a golden retriever with it's droopy ears, "it's mikey."

yeah... you should've realized sooner. only someone like him, with a reputation that proceeds him would behave in such a manner. a feared gang leader. people usually avoid meeting him face-to-face, less chance to wind up on his bad side and incur his wrath.

"and yours is?"

you give him your name, keeping your eyes downcast onto his hands as you wrap his knuckles. pretty. even with all the residual scars evident from previous fights. strong and a bit rough, but stupidly decent looking hands for a delinquent.

"aren't ya gonna kiss it better?" mikey teases, leaning in and puckering his lips.

"hell no." you snap. pushing at his shoulder. squashing down the tiny flip your heart does.

he deflates, pouting at your quick dismissal.

"but i'm in paaaain." he whines.

stubbornly you ignore his complaints. but he's as persistent as you are stubborn. mikey gets louder, to the point of wailing and dropping his weight against you. his head is on your shoulder, breath heavy in your ear.

it makes your face heat in frustration. a bubbling of emotions you don't wish to name.

you cave.

"for crying out loud." you mutter.

exhaling sharply, you grab his collar, barely resisting shaking him like the pest he is. planting a kiss directly onto his swollen lips.

the kiss is tainted with the taste of metal.

yet neither of you is pulling away. letting the golden sun rays warm you inside and out. melting and sliding your lips along his. none of it is sure, just silent exploration.

your first-aid kit clatters to the ground, shattering the moment. breaking the kiss.

mikey looks positively stunned, fingers pressed to his mouth, memorizing the feel of yours.

when you finally look up he's beaming, smiling so wide that he split the scab and is now bleeding again.

you wipe at the blood, pressing a cotton ball to the spot.

"oh, i meant my hands by the way." he murmurs.

you feel like an idiot for misreading the situation. you had thought that's what he was getting at. mikey puts his hand up in defense when you swat at his arm, "not that i'm complaining about the kiss."

"you're such a dickhead."

"oi, c'mon don't run away now!" he calls out as you speed walk towards the door.

you flip him off, playing up the dramatics. you're not actually mad. just flustered.

"you know you can't hide from me." mikey says, both a threat and a promise.

when mikey wants something he gets it. period.

"counting on it." you laugh, waving as the door swings shut behind you. heart beating too fast. giddy grin plastered onto your face as you descend the steps.

mikey waits exactly two minutes before chasing after you.

꒰ author's note ꒱ — quick fluff of my favorite delinquent. ignore any errors 'nd bad spelling, i wrote this in like an hour. not proofread ♡

Mikey looked between them. “What.” 

The former cleared his throat, while the latter struggled to hold it together. “Have you seen yourself recently?” 

“What kind of question is that?” 

“I mean…” His eyes flit over to the child happily coloring, then back at him. “She’s certainly tapped into her creative side as of late. Drawing on the walls, handprints all on the windows, and…” Kakucho vaguely gestured. Mikey’s brow twitched, irritation simmering. 

“Spit it out.” 

“The world is her canvas, s’all I’m saying."

"Including your face.” Kakucho side-eyed the lavender-haired man for the comment before shaking his head. 

The platinum blonde blinked. His face? He slowly reached up to feel around the skin, and sure enough. Stickers. Several, in fact. Two on the cheek, one near his eyebrow, forehead and his chin. He peeled one off and looked at it, the word ‘Super!’ staring back at him. “Oh.” 

Looking at his daughter, she continued to color without much care for the conversation happening. Much like her father, her selective hearing was strong. Mikey sighed, “Little menace. Must’ve got me when I was–I mean we were napping. Oi.” 

She looked up at him upon his call, head tilted curiously. All three executives felt a pang in their chest at the devastatingly adorable sight. Mikey steeled himself, attempting to look stern as he presented the sticker. “Wanna explain?” 

Her little brows scrunched in thought. After a brief moment, she beamed as she pointed at him, “Papa, super! Gave stickers, like Mama!” 

Confusion colored his expression until it dawned on him. You’re a school teacher, or were one. Currently you are on maternity leave, cooking her up a baby brother. However, your teaching persona would come out at home, disciplining or rewarding with the same methods, such as stickers. You had a whole tub of school supplies, overflowing with those in particular. And evidently, the little troublemaker had been snooping around in it. 

Unable to hold the stern facade any longer, Mikey offered a small, but rare–Well, rare for his colleague–smile. With a huff, he leaned forward to kiss her forehead before placing the star sticker to the spot, earning him a gleeful giggle in return; the best reward. Ruffling her hair, Mikey spoke with warmth, “I think you’re super.” 

“No, you are!” 

“No, you are,” he parroted, poking her nose. It scrunched up immediately, sending another dreadful pang in his chest. Good thing you were already pregnant with baby number two, otherwise there would be nothing stopping him from ditching work to get on that ASAP. 

The third-in-command cleared his throat. Mikey's smile drops for the second time. “Apologies. We have our meeting with the shareholders in twenty. Sanzu is ready with the car, and the Haitanis agreed to watch over the young miss while we’re gone.” 

“Wouldn’t say we agreed, but beats sitting in on that bullshit.” 

“Watch your mouth.” Mikey warned. “She repeats any of that at home, I’m telling [____] it’s your fault.” 

“Snitching on me to the teacher? That’s low, Boss.” 

“Please don’t take advantage of his good mood.” Kakucho exasperated, rubbing his temple. Ran conceded with a shrug, lowering to level with the little one.

“Alright, mini Boss, you're comin' with uncle Ran. Let’s go make uncle Rin your next masterpiece.”

Her eyes light up brighter than before, if possible. “Mm!” Dropping her crayons, she pushed herself off the ground to toddle over to the eldest Haitani. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks. Turning to Mikey, she rushes to him and falls into his arms for a hug. “Buh-bye, Papa! Wub you!” 

Mikey startled a little but soon relaxed, still getting used to the onslaught of affection she was so full of; seeing so much of you in her everyday. He patted her head, “Me too, sweetheart.” 

“Stickers stay on?” She peered at him, hopeful. 

He stiffened. Opening his mouth to protest, the words turn to ash in his mouth at her pleading gaze. With a sigh, he gave a resigned nod. “I’ll keep them on all day. Promise.” 

Ran and Kakucho exchanged a glance. 

—

Murderers, traffickers, scum of the earth alike couldn’t believe their eyes. 

Colorful stickers, some big and some small, littered across the lethal leader’s face like the inside of a child’s school book. And he sat there. Unperturbed. Unbothered. Unashamed. 

Because who’s gonna check a crashout who loves his kid? 

and something cracked open in him.

because you laughed — really laughed — and mikey hadn’t heard something that warm in years.

you didn’t know who he was at first, not really. not the bonten side. just a tired man who visited the bookstore where you worked, always hovering near the kids section and never buying anything.

until one day, he asked for help. a book recommendation. something with pirates, maybe. or robots.

“how old is your kid?” you asked.

“he’s… not mine,” mikey replied, and then after a beat, “…yet.”

and you didn’t push.

you never pushed.

when things began — slow and careful — mikey found himself showing up more. not just for you, but for the little boy who started calling him mii-chan.

he was afraid at first. terrified, really. of breaking something so fragile. of not being enough. of loving too hard and ruining it.

but then he heard your son call him “daddy” for the first time — shy, like he didn’t know if he was allowed — and mikey's heart broke in the best way.

he dropped to his knees and hugged the kid so tight he nearly cried.

you watched from the kitchen with tears in your eyes.

he never expected to have this. a little family. bedtime stories. sticky hands. you in his shirt, barefoot in the morning. a home that didn’t smell like blood or smoke.

he comes back from meetings now just to be greeted with hugs around his leg, and your tired smile as you say, “we saved you some dinner.”

and god — he smiles.

real, soft, toothy smiles.

the kind that make his men stare like they’re seeing a ghost.

one night, as you lie in bed, your son snuggled between the two of you, he murmurs, “thank you.”

you blink at him sleepily. “for what?”

“for letting me have this,” he whispers, brushing a hand over your boy’s hair. “for giving me something to come home to.”

you reach over and squeeze his hand. “you deserve it, mikey.”

he shakes his head, eyes on the tiny chest rising and falling beside him.

“no… but i’ll protect it like i do.”

and he means it.

he would burn down the world for his family.

but for now, he just pulls you closer, warm under the blankets, heart steady.

because for the first time in years, he’s not waiting for something to break.

Ran laughs at you when you get offended for nothing. It can be about something going your way to work to you spiking your coffee on the counter. It's his own comic relief of the day when you're stroming around, a deep frown on your face making you look like a small, angry animal but still defenseless. His laughter always makes it worse, without mentioning his venom filled remarques, to make fun of your overreacting nature. To the point you can cry and not speak to him for hours – but for sure mentioning it all to Rindou.

Ran hates it when you team up with him, because you wouldn't talk to him but Rindou would, on the other hand, mention you and everything you told him to Ran. He's always making the first step to you and apologizing with probably a hundred wroth bouquet and your favorite snacks – promising you he'll never do it again, when he will most certainly do it again.

Seeing you enjoying small things about life is the reason why Mikey kept you around at first, you reminded him of his younger self and his friends at that time. Every time you stop to pet a stranger's dog, a small smile shows on his lips, one you rarely get to see even if you're always the reason for it.

You listen to him so carefully the few times he does talk to you, it makes him feel alive again. You're doing most of the talking and you're always so sorry to take this kich when that's what he loves about you. He makes sure to tell you that he likes it from time to time, just to be sure you won't stop. Your heart is so soft and warm, welcoming him every time you see him again with new facts you learn and an unconditional love that overflows everywhere, and he gets the chance to be showered with it every time.

Kokonoi gets used to you stopping all the time the second you catch the glimpse of a stay animal. So he instinctively adds ten minutes to every trip you two have to do, even if it's only to walk to his car because there's a few stray cats in the parking lot and he's sure you're gonna stop or even wait for them to walk out from their hide spot.

But he just can't bring himself to get impatient when your eyes light up at the sight of the small cats. The way you jolt in joy when their cold nose finally touches your hand, and you look up to him with the softest smile he ever had the chance to witness. Yes, you're usually late, but he just had to snap a picture of you with the white kitten and everyone is accepting the fact that those ten minutes of your happiness are worth the delayed meetings.

Kakucho's always there to rub your back when you cry in front of a movie. He never sees why you cry particularly, but always listen thoughtfully to what you have to say about it. He brings you tissues, sometimes even wipes your nose for you and lets you dive into his arms when a character you like dies. He can't help but tell himself how sensible you are every time, but also how he loves that. You bring him back to his human nature and what it is to be emphatic about normal things, far from his rough life where his life is at risk every time he steps outside the door.

To that, he hopes he'll never be the reason for your tears, and that he'll always be there to wipe them away and shush you down.

Sorry its rather short, tell me if you want a particular hc with one or a whole os.