Man Of My Dreams

man of my dreams

Am an outed simp anyways. I finally committed to it

god, lord, jesus of nazareth, please have some mercy

Ryuguji “Draken” Ken for @trash-writings

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

SHE'S MY COLLAR. // NO FRIENDS IN THE INDUSTRY.

nothing to be justified in, just one thing, you should feel nada

cw. keep the series warnings in mind. fem!reader. she/her pronouns used. two previously introduced oc's are in this chapter, but everyone else mentioned is from the manga.

wc. 8.1k (yeah. happy thanksgiving.)

playlist. masterlist. taglist (open).

disclaimer. the events depicted in this are works of fiction and in no way, shape or form glorifying or promoting them. this is not suitable for children. this work is for those eighteen years of age or older.

a/n. i really just missed writing this. nothing else, i just missed writing this, so here we are. this might be kinda rough in some areas because it's unedited and everything but i was honestly just so happy to be able to write again that i didn't care. i really said fuck it, formatted it n now here we are. can't tell you all how much i missed writing, honestly. also, sorry in advance <3 happy thanksgiving 🍽

previous || next

It’s been years since Mikey’s been on this side of town. This side is more...reputable. Domestic, if you’d prefer to call it that. Lined with quaint little eateries, longstanding book shops and music stores, it’s not a side of town that Mikey belonged in. His Bentley Bentayga stood out painfully against the backdrop of children running around chasing behind basketballs and frisbees, but none of the executives cared very much. With him he carried Sanzu, Ran, and Rindou. The others were off doing other tasks he’d issued them, Kakucho still occupying your time so at least he didn’t have you to worry about. Briefly he wonders if you’d like to show him the things you bought after this. Something about the thought of you mindlessly babbling about shoes and shirts while he sits back in his office chair, half full glass of whiskey on ice in hand, dark eyes taking in your movements while his ears barely register the words you say calms him. Allows him to step out of the vehicle with a neutral look on his face, allows him to enter the pet shop without immediately making a beeline towards his current prime suspect and snap his neck in a blind, likely misguided fit of rage.

He’d think about your affect on him later. There were more important issues at hand.

The bell at the top of the door jingles, and in walks the four men. Luckily the store is seemingly quiet- aside from the barking and mewling of cats and dogs out back, smaller pets line the walls out front alongside arrays of treats, toys, and pet care. Mikey takes his time, shoving spindly fingers into his dark pockets, allowing sweaty tips to dry off against the expensive fabric. He blankly looks over the pets as he makes his way through the aisles, dark eyes trailing over the small animals, smiling at the little ones that look up at him curiously. He wonders if you’d like a pet; were you more of a dog or a cat person? Perhaps a rabbit? Maybe a hamster?

He doesn’t realize he defaults to thinking of you when he’s nervous until he hears a voice he didn’t think he’d hear again. The thought of your surprised expression at being presented with a bunny is enough to keep him grounded long enough to respond to the voice.

“Welcome to Redemption Pet Store! Are you just browsing or are you looking for anything specific?”

Redemption. He wonders which one of them came up with that name.

“Actually,” Mikey keeps his expression controlled and mentally braces himself to face the man he hasn’t seen since he was a kid. Since he got courted off to juvy, or jail, whichever it was, he hadn’t seen this man or heard much about him. Mikey didn’t even keep tabs on his old friends anymore, doing his best to allow them to live happily and freely without him. That was his full intent this whole time, not to drag anyone down in his world any longer, but apparently sometimes you couldn’t help the inevitable. Some people found their way back no matter how much you pushed them away.

Mikey turns his head, onyx irises finally meeting gold. He wishes the way bitter recognition immediately floods over his old friends’ face didn’t make some part of his cold heart ache. The black and blonde haired man’s smile falls, and with it, the corners of Mikey’s lips twitch up politely.

“Hi, Kazu. I’m looking for Chifuyu. Could you go get him for me?”

Mikey thinks if he told Kazutora he was here to kill them both the other man would’ve had a less terrified reaction. Kazutora blinks, examinine Mikey, wide eyes flickering back to the three brooding, suited men behind him. He distantly remembers them from his youth- the Haitani’s specifically. They’re dangerous, all of them are. And they’re running with Mikey now, the most nefarious man in the entire country. Who now stood in his pet shop asking for his best friend. Kazutora blinks, and then his eyes dart back to Mikey and he swallows.

“You better not-” His heart starts to slam against his chest anxiety welling beneath his pale skin. “W-What do you want with ‘Fuyu? He’s not- you better not hurt him-”

“Does it look like I’ve come to hurt anyone?” Mikey cuts him off with a clipped tone, and just like in Kazutora’s Toman days, he seals his mouth shut and gapes at the younger man. It’s amazing how influential Mikey was, to still have such a terrifying grip on those around him even if it’s been years since he’d last seen them. “I want to talk to him, that’s all. I have something to ask. Go get him for me.”

The tone of finality has the elder man turning on his heel to fetch the other owner. Mikey takes a moment to reel his thoughts in. His heels press into the soft soles of his sandals, shoulders slumping with a sigh. His eyes just roam over the small litter of puppies mewling in the corner, stumbling around the little display pen, when he hears a door shuffle closed followed by a set of footsteps. His ears perk up, shoulders rolling, pleased when he finds that the footsteps are a single set. Kazutora had enough sense not to come behind Chifuyu. Good boy.

A head of cropped black hair enters Mikey’s vision, with eyebrows slanted inwards and the tinge of a weary frown on his face. Mikey doesn’t allow the yearning of seeing his old executive and close friend to settle in, neutralizing his emotions immediately, allowing the hollowness to seep in.

“Mikey?” Chifuyu’s eyes dart between Mikey and his executives. “What are you... doing here?”

“Looking for you.” The shorter man says simply. Chifuyu blinks, full focus now on his friend. “It’s been a long time, Chifuyu.”

The dark haired man’s jaw twitches. “What do you want, Mikey?” His words come out a little strained, forced through gritted teeth. Mikey pays no mind, allowing himself to return to perusing the pets that tumble over each other in their pens. Sanzu, on the other hand, allows himself to raise an eyebrow. His hands remain stuffed into his coat, but gloved fingers tap against the detailed handle of his favorite dagger. All Mikey has to do is say the word. Maybe Chifuyu wouldn’t have a tongue to hiss at anyone again after Sanzu was done with him.

“A chat.” The blonde continues. He starts to walk slowly and Chifuyu makes way for him, briefly glancing at the three men that trail him. They look uninterested but he notices how Sanzu glances at Chifuyu on occasion. Chifuyu swallows at the growing lump in his throat before turning to his old friend. “Chat about what?”

“Do you still read those shōjo mangas?” Mikey doesn’t have to turn around to see the look on Chifuyu’s face. His beet red cheeks and wide eyes have been imprinted in Mikey’s mind since they were kids and they teased him about it. “You always gravitated towards the ones that made the man the hero.”

“Did you just come here to insult me, Mikey?” Chifuyu’s hands clench and unclench at his sides. “What, you don’t have anything better to do so you bully your old friends?”

“Watch your tone, pretty boy.” Sanzu says with faux casualty. The handle of the switchblade feels warm through his gloves. He turns to shoot Chifuyu a smile, scarred corners thinning and stretching as perfect, pearly white teeth show forth. “Unless you want to match scars with me.”

Mikey doesn’t allow Chifuyu to open his mouth again. “Do you still have that hero complex, ‘Fuyu?” The black haired man’s gaze snaps to Mikey at the sound of the old nickname. “Still want to be someone’s savior?”

It’s bitter. The words hang in the air for a moment, heavy implications intact. Memories shared between the two men drift to the forefront of their minds without consent, plaguing them with brief flashes, recollection of their youth. Images of their times together, of their lives together, of the circumstances that broke their friendships to pieces. Times when Chifuyu tried to feed his heroism, tried to satiate his need to save his friend, but the opposite happened. When Mikey refused his help and fell deeper into his self-actualized abyss.

“When are you going to realize that you can’t save anyone, Chifuyu?”

The heaviness that falls between them is thick, thick enough that the brothers behind them share a look and Sanzu’s head tilts to the side slightly in curiosity. He wonders what the other man will do, carefully watching his movements.

Chifuyu’s hands twitch. They clench into a fist, knuckles whitening rapidly, shaking under the strength of his hold to the point where thin veins pop out against his skin. He blinks as the pressure of blood rush in his ears. For a second the old anger he had flares up, the anger that boiled for years after Mikey left, rage that accumulated as a result of loss, guilt, shame, and betrayal. It’s anger that he can’t afford to unleash, not not when he’d be overpowered so easily. It’d be his final death sentence, one he couldn’t come back from this time. So, instead, he swallows.

“What do you want, Mikey?”

Mikey ponders for a moment. What did he want? Well, that was a loaded question with answers that Mikey knew Chifuyu didn’t have. He wanted lots of things. But, at this very moment, he wanted Chifuyu to remain alive.

“There’s a girl.” Mikey begins, turning to the display case filled with puppies. He stretches his hand down, allowing the small animals to lick and nip at his fingertips. “She has a tattoo on her back. You know her.”

Chifuyu’s mind immediately runs to you. He can’t, and doesn’t bother to hide away the alarm that enters his voice. “Don’t touch her. What are you trying to do with-”

Mikey doesn’t bother hearing the man out. “Stay away from her, Matsuno.”

Chifuyu doubles back. Matsu- Who the fuck- “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t stutter.” Mikey’s hint of a smile is gone now. He doesn’t pull away from the animals but he doesn’t have to, ice frosting over the brittle darkness of his voice. “Stay away from her if you know what’s good for you. I won’t hesitate to have you killed if you don’t follow instructions.”

Chifuyu’s jaw tightens. His lips curl into his mouth for a second, one testing second, before his fists flex and he’s snapping his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “You don’t have a say in what I do in my free fucking time, Manjiro-”

His words cut short immediately, as does his breathing. He locks it in his chest and it stays there, the rise of his diaphragm stopping mid inhale. His jaw snaps shut and twitches again but his eyes follow suit. A smart decision on his part, Sanzu thinks, pressing the flat, cool blade of his dagger into the soft junction between Chifuyu’s neck and jaw. The pinkette leans down, long painted fingers wrapped around the front of the smaller man’s neck. He leans down to his ear, minty breath hitting against the red-tinged hull, pulling Chifuyu’s body into his chest.

“You don’t listen very well do you?” Sanzu hums. “Or do you have the memory retention of a fucking pigeon? I said to watch your goddamn mouth, you fucking mutt.”

“God, don’t kill him in front of the kittens. They’re too innocent for this.” Ran laments, a dry sentiment that falls on deaf ears. Chifuyu opens his eyes reluctantly, in time to see Mikey pull away from the pen. He wipes his hand on a rag hung over the edge of the case, turning on his heel and slowly walking towards Chifuyu.

“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” Mikey’s eyes are hardened over with a depth no one can wade through. “Stay away from her. Stay away from her apartment. Stay out of her life. Anybody asks you about her, tell them you never saw her. If you want to be somebody’s hero so bad, then be her hero and leave her alone.”

There’s a tense moment shared between the two men. Hard, steeled over eyes that stare one into another, set jaws and stony faces. Mikey’s words are oaths, promises. His visit to Chifuyu was that of mercy- Chifuyu has no doubt that had he been anyone else, Mikey wouldn’t have bothered letting the man off with a warning. There’s a glimmer of the man he once knew swimming down in the depths of Mikey’s heart, some innate consciousness that Chifuyu should be appreciative of- it was the only reason Sanzu didn’t get the order to see how dark Chifuyu’s blood ran yet. But there’s also something else, another emotion seemingly foreign to Mikey, something he doesn’t think he’s ever witnessed on the man in all their twenty-something odd years of living.

That emotion causes Chifuyu’s blood to boil darkly, pinning his mouth shut while Mikey has the audacity to offer him something resembling a smile. “It looks like you’ve understood. We’ll be leaving now.”

Sanzu retracts his blade, pressing it shut and throwing it back in his pocket. “Good boy. I wasn’t planning on ruining my suit this early anyways.”

“Say hello to Kazutora again for me, ‘Fuyu.” Mikey calls out as he departs. He walks out casually, hands still in his pockets, dead eyes still unmoved and unshaken. But he’d be a fool if he didn’t notice the look in Chifuyu’s eyes back there. Chifuyu liked you, and something about that revelation made Mikey’s rage simmer more than the prospect of simply being acquainted with you.

He swallows down the poisonous feeling of jealousy when they cross back into the car, Sanzu taking over the driver’s seat, the Haitani’s filing into the back. “That went well.” Rindou hums, rapping his blunt nails on the arm rest. “Think he got the message?”

“If he’s smart he did.” Ran remarks. “Think he’s smart?”

Sanzu snorts dryly, switching the car on. One hand wraps around the steering wheel, the other arm propping itself on the windowsill, thumb and index coming to cup his chin. “Think he’s stupid enough to pretend he isn’t.”

“Keep eyes on him.” Mikey says, eyes unfocused and hazed over in thought. “Track his phone. He may try something.”

“Yes, sir.” Ran’s on his phone immediately, contacting whomever to complete Mikey’s orders. Sanzu glances at Mikey briefly before returning to the road, the questions and opinions left to fester on his tongue until they got back to the office.

When they do arrive at the building, everybody breaks off into their tasks for the day. Mikey returns to his office and Sanzu follows, the Haitani’s going off to deal with tracking Chifuyu. Sanzu trails after his boss, eyebrows just barely pinched inwards. He waits until Mikey settles into his chair, both of them completing the usual ritual after an outing: Sanzu shutting the door and immediately crossing over to the marble counter on the opposite wall, plopping one singular large cube of ice from Mikey’s mini fridge into an awaiting class, pouring Mikey his whiskey and placing it in front of him. He waits, moving back over to close the expensive bottle shut, waiting until the cup drags lightly against the wooden table, an indication that Mikey’s picked it up.

“Forgive me for asking, Mikey, but are you alright?”

The shorter man raises an eyebrow, cup grazing his lip. “Why do you ask?”

“Because,” Sanzu pauses, placing the bottle down. “I haven’t seen you that serious in years. You don’t get worked up over much any more, but I almost thought you’d take the knife away from me and finish him off yourself.”

Mikey takes a long moment before he responds. He blinks, cold glass gently pressing against his lips, and he takes the second to sip at the cool, strong liquid. Pink muscle runs along the bottom lip as he finishes, pulls away, and swirls the liquid around in the glass. His eyes still seem distant, deep in thought. “Maybe I would’ve.”

Sanzu crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “Because of the girl?”

Another moment. Another sip. Ice clinks against the walls of the glass. “Because of the girl.”

“This is unlike you, Mikey. You’re not one to get beside yourself, especially not that easily.” Mikey’s sipping again, ignoring the burn of the drink. His face twists by impulse as he sets the glass down. “You don’t lose yourself easily anymore.”

“I know,” He sighs. “But she just…” He takes a moment to find the correct words to say, but in the end, he feels almost juvenile in his explanation.

“I don’t know. There’s something...different about her. I can’t explain it.” Mikey blinks. “It’s scary, almost. The things she does to me without even trying.”

Sanzu studies the man sitting in front of him. “Is it that you like her?”

Mikey takes another moment.

“There’s a possibility.”

Mikey’s heavy office door opens and in steps the topic of their conversation. You, trailed by Kakucho, different sized bags from every department and designer store you could think of carried in both your hands (moreso Kakucho’s- Mikey didn’t anticipate he’d let you lug all that up here on your own). There’s a wild look in your eyes, carefree and exhilarated, glinting with your signature charm that brings ease to Mikey’s shoulders. He finds the right corner of his mouth softly moving upwards at the sight of you.

“We’re back.” Kakucho breathes out with a sigh. “Never going to the strip again in my life.”

“You’re just upset that the old lady wouldn’t rest until you gave her your number.” There’s light in your voice that Mikey wishes to hear more of. Your eyes trail between the two men and a small pout forms on your delicate lips. “O-oh, was I...interrupting something?”

Sanzu speaks up immediately, pushing off of the counter. “No, not at all. I was just about to leave actually.” He excuses himself without a word, and Mikey turns to address Kakucho.

“I take it everything went well?” It’s unspoken. He wants to know if there’s anything he should be alerted about. Thankfully, Kakucho nods without jagged hesitation. Mikey hums. “Good. Thank you, Kaku. You can leave us alone now.”

And then there were two.

Mikey’s gaze is heavy. You find yourself shuffling from heel to heel, silently praying one of the stilettos doesn’t give out and send you toppling over to the ground. He takes your now bashful presence in slowly. His eyes roam over your figure, over the pretty white milkmaid top and flared jeans that accentuated your body. He makes a mental note to purchase more of those shirts, finding that he liked them on you a bit much.

“Did you have fun?” Mikey asks, pleased at the way you look up at him through your lashes. You bite the inside of your jaw, glossed lips pushing out softly. “Mhm,” You hum, and then you’re gasping and patting over your pockets. “Oh! Before I forget!” He watches, two fingers sliding into your back pocket. You’re walking towards him, heels clicking soft against the floor, and he’s watching you like his own personal divinity, shining when you stand close and hold your hand out. There’s his card, placed between your fingers, and Mikey’s slightly confused why he likes this sight so much.

“Your card.” You breathe, other hand swiping against the side of your jeans. “Thanks, again. I really appreciate it.”

“You're welcome.” He says, taking the card away from you. He tests the weight of the words forming on his tongue for a moment, and then he’s acting on his impulse. “But,” he begins. You stand still, frozen, adrenaline making your skin buzz in anticipation as you watch his actions. He doesn’t make a move to put it in his wallet, instead reaching around your waist. You feel his fingers brush against your hips and you gasp shortly in surprise when you feel his thumb press into your back, feeling of the square plastic sliding back into the pocket you just pulled it out of. Your eyes trail up and you meet him already staring up at you, studying your reaction tenaciously. Both of you fail to remember the importance of breathing, too wrapped into the splendour of each other and the delicacy of the moment to care.

“Keep it. You probably have better use for it than I do.”

Your heart thumps wildly against your chest. He tries to ignore the way the swell of your breasts visible over the cut of your top bounces gently. You blink, breathing out, “Think so?”

“Yeah.” He says softly, automatically. “You do.”

And Mikey’s pleased again when you don’t fight against him, instead just nodding without complaint. “Okay.”

He wishes he didn’t like you as much as he was beginning to.

The executives of the Blood Angels wearily glance down at Hiroto, each man wearing their concern hardened on their faces in different ways. Most didn’t know what they were more concerned about; their vice being trapped, bedridden for the time being, or Hiroto’s reaction to the news of it all. Possibly the latter, because for once, the loud, buff, burly, brooding man was silent. Unmoving since he got the news, sat at his desk with hardened, unreadable eyes staring down at his rings. Fat fingers twitch, the first movement he’s made in hours, and all the men in the room share a collective look before looking back at him. He inhales deeply, dark, and then comes his voice, low with bass that rumbles through every eardrum in his proximity, sinking into the dark walls of the conference room.

“Bonten.” He says. The other men make no move to question him, waiting until he speaks again to provide context. He takes a moment, a slow-moving, tense moment, before a dry chuckle just barely sounds low in the room. “Message received.”

“A-Are we-” Takuya, his number three, clears his throat. “What’s our next move, sir? They know our original plan, there isn’t much we can do.”

The advisor, Yamagishi, agrees. He pushes his rimmed glasses up his nose and opens the folder sat in front of him. “Chonbo was forced to tell them everything he knows. They know that we planned to advance on either Hanma or Mikey himself- Bonten’s guard is up now, there’s no crossing that barrier. Finding Hanma is like finding an urban legend, no one’s heard from him in years.” Yamagishi licks his lips. “I think it would be wise to lie low while Chonbo is in recovery. That way, we can move in when Bonten’s guard is down. In the meantime we gather intel and-”

“No.”

Yamagishi blinks, scorching ice running over his neck. He glances wearily at his superior. “No?”

“No.” Hiroto shakes his head. His hands, previously steepled, curl over each other. He presses down the knuckles of the left hand until they crack in unison. “We’re not waiting for Chonbo to recover. He’s not going to recover.”

“What do you mean he’s not-”

“Chonbo is a traitor now.” He says simply, stress of anger laced in his tone. “He gave away our information to a known enemy- willingly, at that. He’s no longer a Blood Angel.”

There’s an implication in his tone that makes the breaths of the executives hitch. Akkun is the one who dares to speak. “Boss, you’re going to kill Chonbo?”

The larger man’s eyes trail to Kita. He’s silent, and then he speaks. “Yes.”

It’s easy to forget just how cutthroat the life they chose to lead was. You spend so much time with people, so much time around your colleagues that you forget the vow you made. Your life was sealed away with uncertainty, and those who forgot their promises were reminded in the harshest ways. Glamour was paid for by blood, and those who forgot their place would be reminded of their fate. An air of somberness fell over the room, the veil of invincibility pulled away. At the very core of any gang there was one common rule, one rule that nobody could run away from.

Traitors must pay.

“Chonbo’s of no use to us now.” Hiroto begins. His hardened gaze is steeled over, unreadable to any emotion behind them. He looks over his team, his colleagues, and a piece of his heart aches. But Hiroto’s a leader first, and leaders don’t get that title being lenient with the rules they hold in high regard. However, Chonbo was one of them. Most importantly, his best friend, done an injustice by an enemy that’d caused him so much trouble over the past few days. So, Hiroto presses on. “But his death won’t be in vain. We’ll avenge him.”

The words make everyone’s heads lift. Hiroto’s tone remains steady and firm, and more importantly, sure. “Bonten’s forced our hand. I wanted to be political, deal with this like men, but they’ve forced our lead. So, we’ll give them what they want. Starting with the girl.”

“How do you plan to do that?” Yamagishi’s eyebrows pinch. “The girl’s untouchable.”

Kiyomasa huffs from the opposite side of the table, pushing the butt of his cigar into an ashtray. “Do we still have eyes on her?”

Takuya leans back into his chair, crossing tattooed arms over his chest. “Our men have been combing surveillance on every camera within city limits, nothing yet.”

“She’ll show.” Hiroto hums. “She’s a woman, she has needs. Not to mention she has no business in Bonten prospects- they’ll have to let her out of whatever facility she’s in at some point. Keep searching. But we have another outlet, someone else we can use to get to her.”

At this, every man in the room raises an eyebrow, curiosities peaked collectively. “Who?”

Hiroto presses his left hand into the knuckles of the right,flexing downwards until a satisfying crack rings in the room. His eyes stare straight ahead, still unreadable, masking thought that swarms his flooded brain. His eyebrow twitches for a split second, and then, a smirk slowly pulls on the right corner of his face.

“Chifuyu?”

Chifuyu paces around the back room of the pet shop restlessly. His hands shake- really, his whole body shakes. In fear, in fury, Kazutora assumes a mix of both. The streaked blonde looks at his best friend wearily, unease settling in the pit of his stomach. His mouth goes dry and he has to swallow at his throat when Chifuyu finally opens his mouth to speak.

“The fucking audacity of him. The fucking audacity of him!” Kazutora flinches when Chifuyu’s voice raises, but the latter doesn’t notice. “He- he’s selfish, so fucking selfish, still only concerned about what he wants and nothing else. It’s insane! It’s like he never fucking grew up.”

A lithe, bony hand comes up to rub at the back of Kazutora’s neck. “M-maybe you should listen to him, ‘Fuyu. He’s not...” He pauses. “Not the Mikey we used to know.” Inwardly, he flinches. Of course it’s a revelation he’s come to terms with over the years, but the shock of coming out of juvy to find your friend group and gang you’d run with for years disbanded because of it’s leader’s selfishness would never really wear away. Moreso, Kazutora learned to become accustomed to it. Didn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when he’s faced with that cold reality, such as now. Chifuyu scoffs bitterly, running his hand over the sides of his mouth, dragging it down his chin.

“You think I don’t know that by now, Kazu?” He spits out with a cold laugh. “Fucker came in my store like he owns the goddamn place. Him, and that pink haired fuck of a lapdog he’s got running after him.”

Chifuyu seethes to himself when he thinks of Sanzu holding that blade to his chin again. Kazutora, who’d seen the entire ordeal over the cameras, swallows before he speaks again. “Just- whoever she is, ‘Fuyu, leave her alone. She’s not worth this.”

Not worth this? First of all, Chifuyu’s confused as to how you’d even gotten mixed up with the likes of Bonten. With the likes of him. He’s shaking his head absentmindedly, bright eyes steeling over by the second. “No, I can’t. I can’t let him have her. She’s- she’s mine, not his, he can’t just take what’s mine and expect me to lie down like some dog and let him.”

He’s burning inside. What was Mikey’s business with you? Chifuyu was sure it wasn’t something Bonten related, not by the way Mikey was reacting. Or maybe it was. Maybe that tattoo had finally gotten you in the trouble he knew it’d get you in. He thought the extent of your issues would just be with Hiroto. Hiroto, Chifuyu could deal with. He’d talked to Hiroto with full intentions to divert his attention until Chifuyu could get his hands on him and end that man’s petty life himself. Truth be told, if Hiroto was a problem for Bonten, had Mikey waited another day or so he wouldn’t have been an issue anymore. Chifuyu was secretly plotting ever since he’d learned about the raid on your apartment the day before. He’d find out who you found refuge in after the imminent threat was rid of.

But now, now Hiroto wasn’t much of a threat anymore. An opportunity, maybe. A means to an end. What was it that Mikey wanted with you? Was it possible that Mikey felt the same way about you that Chifuyu did, too? It was unlikely- this was Mikey. Mikey, who’d never been in a romantic relationship in his life, who lost his ability to care about anyone except himself. He wouldn’t- he couldn’t suddenly care for you. He didn’t have the emotional intelligence or mental capacity to handle something as complex as feelings for another person.

But there was that look in his eyes. That tense, heavy, warning look, accompanied by the same tension in his voice. Tension that didn’t appear in a man who cared for a woman. Mikey saw Chifuyu’s fight, understood the reasoning behind Chifuyu’s actions, and challenged it. That’s not something someone does unless they feel the same way.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and blindly dials the number that called him the day prior- your number. It doesn’t even ring, shrill notes of the dial tone flooding the speaker, automated message soon after. The number you have dialed is out of service. He starts to see red.

Mikey likes you. The revelation makes Chifuyu’s blood boil hot underneath his skin. He’s livid. Mikey likes you too. And you belong to Chifuyu.

“‘Fuyu?” Kazutora blinks, watching the other man dial another number. “What are you doing?”

“Calling someone.” Chifuyu rubs his chin. “Someone who can help fix this.”

“What?” Kazutora’s brows furrow. “Did you not- Mikey told you to back off.”

“I know that, Kazu. Mikey can kiss my ass.”

“‘Fuyu, you could get killed.”

There’s desperation in Kazutora’s voice. Surely Chifuyu wouldn’t throw his life away like this, right? Mikey wasn’t forgiving- in a way, he never really was, he just opted to move past it. He’s unhinged now, he operates with reckless abandon and null of care for the people he once knew. He’d kill Chifuyu. He would actually kill the man. Hadn’t they been through enough?

Chifuyu sucks in a breath. He knows this, of course he knows this. But he was tired of allowing Mikey to walk all over whoever he pleased. Tired of letting him have his way. Tired of failing when he should keep fighting. Tired of losing to the likes of Mikey.

“I know.” His voice is shaky but determined. He doesn’t make a move to hang up the phone. After two, three, four rings, the voice on the other end of the line picks up. “Hello?”

“Hiroto.” Chifuyu breathes out. “I have some information you’ll be interested in.”

Kazutora’s heart drops. Hiroto, on the other end of the line, raises an eyebrow. Chifuyu’s timing is impeccable, Hiroto still sat in the conference room with his executives, having mentioned the man’s name not too long ago. “Oh, really? About who?”

Chifuyu seals his fate with his next words.

“About the girl.”

Mikey retreats from your body slowly. His thumb twitches; he’s eager to wrap his hand around your waist, feel the warm skin under the hem of your shirt. But that’s inappropriate for this moment. He’d tested his luck long enough.

“I have,” He glances down at the way you shiver. Was it from the temperature of his office or from him? He forced himself not to dwell on it for long. “I have some work to finish up, so someone else will be taking care of you today.”

Your hands come up to rub your arms, goosebumps rising under your sleeves. Mikey’s fingertips ghost at your sides and your toes curl in your sandals. “Someone..else?”

“Yes.” He says, and suddenly you’re reminded of your circumstances. You were harbored as evidence of something, not because the powerful man sat in front of you liked you. The thought is enough to pull you back down to earth from your cotton dreams and fantasies, prompting you to hold your arms closer to yourself. Mikey’s attention turns towards his desk, far too many folders and papers littering the dark wood. “Takeomi and Amara will be here for you shortly.”

Takeomi and Amara. Briefly, images of the two cross your mind. Takeomi, the tall man with blonde streaking both sides of his head who spoke to you in gentle tones, and Amara, the woman who ripped into you, only to treat you with the same gentleness when her findings deemed you innocent. Suddenly you’re aware of the mark on your back again, and subconsciously a hand twitches, moving up your arm to rest near its residence. “Did you...the tattoo..” You pause for a moment to find your words. “Is it...what’s it so important for?”

Mikey ponders for a moment. He could go into depth, tell you things you’d have a hard time believing, but there’s no use for that. You weren’t a part of Bonten. You weren’t gang affiliated, at that. His business had nothing to do with you, and it included the meaning behind that tattoo.

“If you’re lucky, nothing at all.”

It’s unsatisfying, but Mikey’s demeanor allows no further room for inquiry. A part of you marvels at his countenance, at the way he’s able to be somewhat soft, yet switch so quickly. You watch as he calls out to whomever was at the other side of the door. Takeomi, they identify. They’re here to collect you, just as Mikey said. He allows them permission to enter, and when you pick your head up, you meet the dark, warm eyes and thick, curly blue hair that you’d become accustomed to seeing almost every day now.

“Ready to go?” Amara beams. She tucks her hands in her pockets, ignoring a softly grunting Takeomi as he picks up all the bags you brought up. “Heard you went shopping, maybe we can have a little fashion show, yeah?”

It’s hard to believe this was the same woman threatening to kill you a few days ago.

It’s even more hard to believe that she was such a jovial person otherwise.

“Oh, where’d you get that? I’ve been looking for a maxi dress like that for ages, that looks so good on you! Do a spin, let me see!”

Amara’s perched on her bed, sitting on her knees as the contents of your bags lay scattered all around her room. You stand in front of the closet (walk-in closet at that), bashful as you spin in the newest dress she had you wriggle your way in. “Uh, Balenciaga, I think?”

Amara’s eyes are dazzling when you meet her again. “It’d pair so well with the Bottega shoes you got- the white ones! Go put them on, you’ll see what I mean.”

You shuffle to the ottoman in the corner, all the shoes you got piled right next to it. Picking out the set in particular she referred to, you busied yourself with pulling them on. There’s a soft knock on the bedroom door as you do, and you look up in time to see Takeomi peeking his head in.

“You two doing alright in here?” He asks, and while you go to assure him that you’re fine, Amara’s raising an eyebrow after you.

“It’d do you some good to offer her a drink, y’know.” Her tone is playful as she shifts on the bed, folding her legs to sit criss-crossed. “You’re a terrible host, Akashi.”

His eyes move towards her and match the playful glint she wears so proudly. His lips twitch upwards, and he chuckles softly. “You’re right.” He calls to you, waiting until your head perks up in acknowledgement. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“Uh,” You don’t have the chance to begin before Amara’s tutting again. “Didn’t even tell her the options. Sweetheart, do you drink wine?” You nod, and she turns back to Takeomi, who is already looking at her with a smirk on his face. “We’ll have wine then. There’s a bottle of Pinot Noir in the cupboard- bring it with two glasses.”

“As you wish, princess.”

Your eyes flit between the two and you have to force yourself to swallow back a giggle, knowing look crossing over your features. Amara scrunches her nose playfully, and when Takeomi quietly exits, her gaze returns to you. You both meet eyes and her eyebrow raises. “What?”

“Nothing!” You say quickly, but there’s a giggle in your voice that you can’t quite hide. The darkskinned woman squints, crossing her arms over her chest. “You know, I thought you knew by now that lying doesn’t work on me.”

“You and Takeomi seem pretty close.” You hum, shoving your foot in the other shoe. “That’s all.”

Amara shrugs. “We work for the same gang, of course we’re close.”

“Not that kind of close.” Shoe on, you sit up straight. “Then what kind of close are you implying?”

Did she need you to spell it out? Or was she just playing coy? You take a brief glance at her, at the way she fidgets in her seat, the smile teasing her pretty face. There’s a blush written all over her features that you don’t need to see the color of to identify. She definitely knows. You raise an eyebrow at her knowingly. “The kind of close you get when you’re dating somebody.”

Her eyes widen almost comically and she fakes a dramatic gasp. “I’m not dating him!”

“Amara.” You deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest. “I may not be you, but I can spot a blatant lie when I see one.”

Debatable, because you couldn’t spot the fraud Shuji was, but thankfully the other woman was too busy being bashful to call you out on that. She stammers for a few seconds, avoiding your eyes, but one look at your face and she’s melting all over herself. “Okay, fine. We might be dating.”

“Might?”

“Okay, we are. We are dating.” She breathes, and there’s a softness that crosses over her that makes you coo. She kisses her teeth and shakes her head, waving you off with a roll of her eyes. “Shut up! Don’t go telling anyone, we’re keeping it a secret right now.”

“You two are cute together.” You smile. They are, and judging by Amara’s very, very painfully obvious attraction to the man, they worked well with each other. A question starts to burn at the back of your tongue and you’re asking it before you have the chance to dwell on it for long. “How do you deal with him?”

“Hm?” She’s folding her arms over her knees and rests her chin on top of them. “What do you mean?”

“Like,” And suddenly you’re the fidgeting one, picking at the hem of your dress until she barks at you to stop doing that otherwise you’ll ruin the seam. “He’s busy and constantly in danger all the time. He has to be secretive sometimes too, I’m guessing, because of business or whatever. How do you cope with that?”

Amara thought she was the obvious one. Your feelings couldn’t be painted more clearer on you if you picked up a paint brush and illustrated it yourself. It’s what made you so easy to read, and when you were in a business that required you to deal with liars and manipulators every day, your shamelessness was a breath of fresh air. No wonder Mikey took such a liking to you. In a way, Amara sees herself in you.

She takes a second, her eyes watching how you’d subconsciously console yourself. Your gaze fell to the plush pink carpet on the floor, to your toes that you got redone (Kakucho said Mikey would be okay with it), to the cushioned pattern of the shoes you wore. She’s smiling again, chuckling softly to herself.

“He comes home,” She begins, drawing your attention back up to her. “And he kisses me on my cheek, and my nose, and my chin. And then we make dinner, which is mainly me chopping up veggies and whatever else he asks me to while he’s doing the actual cooking. When we’re done we eat on the couch because it’s more comfortable and so he can watch those stupid sports highlights he likes so much.”

“He’s into sports?” She giggles. “Yeah. He’s obsessed with basketball and football. Favorite teams are the Spurs and 49ers. He’s in hell right now.”

Both of you share a laugh. The domesticity of it is revealing. It’s simple, calm, mundane, wildly different than their actual day to day lives. A part of you would almost think they wouldn’t like something so humdrum, but the gentle ease of a glow on her features confirms the contrary. “That’s how.” Your eyebrows pinch in and your head tilts softly. She recognizes your confusion and only smiles wider.

“It’s worth it.” She rests her cheek on her forearm. “All the stress of what we choose to do doesn’t matter at the end of the day. He comes home to me, and it’s all worth it.”

Amara wonders about you. How did Hanma treat you? Did he love you? You loved him, or maybe you still do. It was clear as day on your face back in the interrogation room, the raw, unfiltered pain of being lovelorn drawing jagged across your soul. Lovelorn and destined for death, marked by the man you gave your all to, only for him to disappear from your life without a second thought. She wonders if that’s why you asked- did you miss him, too? Wait up for hours on end when he left, hoping he was safe, praying he’d return to you? Was that why you were asking? She examines your demeanor again. Your hands pull at each other, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

Or was it because of someone else?

“He hurt you, didn’t he?”

You didn’t have to look up at her to know what she was referring to. You smile, a bit bitterly, and nod. “Yeah, he did.”

“Men like him,” She begins, taking a moment to piece together her thoughts. “I’m not gonna tell you they’re one in a million, because unfortunately, they happen a lot. Guys are assholes and they break your heart, and chances are they don’t care about it afterwards either. They suck.”

“Yeah,” You breathe out a sour laugh, watery words garbling in your throat. The backs of your eyes sting and you blink. “Yeah, they do.”

Amara smiles pitifully. She’s been there, she knows how you feel. She’s shuffling out of the bed as you press the heels of your hands into your eyes, crossing to squeeze onto the seat and wrap her arms around you. You sniffle, apologizing, but she shushes you, resting her warm cheek onto your shoulder. She smells like brown sugar and honey and the scent helps to calm you down, paired with her soft hands that rub soothing patterns into your skin.

“They do, but someone better always comes along. Someone who makes you forget about everything that’s happened before, makes you forget the names of the men who’ve wronged you. Someone comes, and they exceed your every standard, push past every obstacle, do everything in their power to put a smile on your face and keep it there. Someone comes along, and they come home to you. They help you take off your shoes after a long day and massage your ankles while you yammer on about the stupidest of things, like how the local grocery store ran out of red onions on the one day you absolutely needed red onions.” She grins when you giggle softly, sniffling in between. “Someone comes along, and they make everything worth it again.”

A part of you feels childish and pathetic, but that’s what heartbreak does to some people. Especially the heartbreak that you’re forced to relive after trying so long to get over it. You turn to look at her, red rings around your irises but half a smile on your face. “You think my someone is gonna come along?”

Amara doesn’t even have to think about it. “I think he already has.”

Your brows furrow, confusion all over your face. Was she about to tell you what she was thinking? Of course not. Instead, she giggles to herself and pats your shoulder.

“Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out soon.”

Chifuyu. Of all the people in Tokyo you’d find to befriend, it had to be Chifuyu. One of the few people on this earth Mikey did his best to actively avoid crossing paths with. What a woman of wonders you are.

Mikey scours through the papers strewn across his desk, screenshots of surveillance footage, Chifuyu’s figure seen exiting your apartment the morning you got ambushed. He checks the time stamp on them. 05:32:08. He searches for the snapshot of his entrance and checks the time there. 00:04:19. You were dropped off at your residence sometime after 11 that night. He checks your phone records- no calls made, but a text sent to his number at 11:43. Chifuyu arrives twenty minutes later and leaves five hours later. Mikey chooses not to think of what he was doing there- the possibilities should’ve been vast, but the sinking, definitive feeling in his chest had already guessed what Chifuyu’s business with you was. It makes his skin crawl in annoyance. His guess was right all along. Chifuyu did have feelings for you. This only cemented it.

Did you have feelings for him too?

Mikey’s door opens suddenly, but if the white-haired man was startled by it, he makes no effort to show it. His eyes stay glued onto his papers. “You knock before you enter my office. You should know better.”

Whoever it is, their shoes tap against the floor, the sound stopping in front of Mikey’s desk. Mikey can see a pair of familiar purple striped trousers above the paper. “What do you want, Sanzu? I assume this is urgent.”

“It is.” He breathes. Mikey looks up at him fully from above the glasses perched on his nose, lowering the paper onto the desk. Sanzu looks manic in a way, eyes widened, his mullet blown out with how fast he’d ran over to Mikey’s office. He swallows, and a hand comes up to comb his hair out of his face. “You’re not going to like this.”

Oh? Mikey raises an eyebrow to urge the man to continue. Sanzu takes a breath, his other hand ducking into his pocket, wrapping around the pill container to ground himself. Inwardly he’s cursing the Haitani’s. This is their unit’s fuck up after all, why was it Sanzu’s responsibility to be the bearer of bad news? Probably because Mikey would quicker kill them than Sanzu, but that’s not the point here. He takes a once over of his boss’s face, hoping the neutrality on it would stay when he delivered the news. His thumb taps against the cap on his container, and his mouth opens to say the words that run Mikey’s blood hot and cold at the same time.

“Chifuyu’s gone cold.”

i deleted the other one by accident and when i did it again, my results were different :o

thanks for the tag once again, gorgeous @licantropa

not pressure tags: @saturnmitsuya @nozomiasl @lostinthe-jojos sorry !

Horny quiz for our minds!

In the deepest part of the web I found this quiz , try it and show your result!

Tagging @nkogneatho @laudthingcat @venussins @angeltani @angeldlust @kazuwhora @ch1yhoe + anyone else

BAJI KEISUKE. — Costumes.

SFW. baji can’t stand unoriginal behavior. baji is also a hypocrite. happy halloween

“Trick or treat!” A smile tweaks its way onto your lips, grin twitching as you look to your side from your place on the couch. It’s sweet, you think, the kids you see lined up at your boyfriend’s door, little corny costumes coloring the night.

“No.” And then there’s that. With a sigh, you pick yourself up, feet gliding you across the floor with the shake of your head.

“He’s kidding. Babe, tell them you’re kidding.” Baji looks at you with a distasteful moue, caked face creasing at his expression. It’s almost overwhelming, and also synonymously underwhelming, how stupid he can be; but nevertheless you grab from the bowl out of his hand.

“I love your costumes!” It’s light, and possibly insincere, but the little girl in front of you brightens up, informing you ‘she’s a princess’ when you drop a lollipop in her bag.

“Happy Halloween!” The phrase is echoed, followed by the pitter patter of the kids and the lingering parents bustling away, and then the click of the front door.

“Keisuke,” He’s still making a face at you, eyes heavy on your figure.

“Don’t say it—”

“You can’t just tell kids no every time you think their costume is ugly.”

“And you said it.” You grab at the bowl from his hands, plastic jack-o-lantern now encompassed against your stomach. “Baby, I hear you, but that’s the seventh ninja we’ve seen in the last thirty minutes. Seventh!”

“You’re literally dressed as a vampire, Kei.”

“It’s ironic!” There’s a laugh in his voice, deep and rumbling and you’re sure if you looked the childish dismay he was displaying would already be gone. So you do, and it is.

He’s grinning at you, fangs accentuated slightly with plastic ones, little dribble of blood down the side of his chin.

“No it’s not,” You’re grinning back, you think, placing the bowl down on the couch, letting him walk over to you.

“No, it’s not.”

“You just thought you looked good,” Your arms link around his neck when he makes a move for you, fingers grazing over the string of his horribly bland cape.

“Yeah, I did.” His hands creep around your waist, fingers tapping at the skin as he loops his arms around you, pulling you closer to him by a step.

“You’re so annoying, oh my, God.” He chuckles again, head darting to sprinkle kisses along your cheek, nose tickling against your ear. “Cut it out, you’re gonna get your face paint on me.”

“Sorry, no can do. ‘I want to suck your blood’ and all that.” The overrun quote has a terrible accent to it, his impression sending a giggle through you. It should be awkward; the way his fang catches on your jaw when he kisses you, the cheap texture of the paste— and it’s definitely paste— he has on his face, the stiffness of the outfit he’s wearing, but it’s not. You don’t think it ever really could be with Baji.

He pulls back, looks at you— looks too good while he’s looking at you—, and moves to ghost over your lips. Your hands tingle from around his neck at his breath, pointer finger circling a strand of hair that didn’t make it into his ponytail. And then the doorbell rings. Your hands move down to swat away at his, detaching yourself from his towering body. “Be nice.”

“Okay, but if there’s another one, so help me God I’m shutting the door in their face.” You mock him briefly, grimace leaving your face when you turn to greet the children.

“Trick or treat!” Your eyes scan the new group of kids, heart warming up just a little. Oh, shit.

“Baji, no.” You push the bowl out in front of you, giving it to the specific child in the circumstantially unfortunate costume. “Happy Halloween.” It’s a rushed condolence and the door is closed again before you can finish your sentence.

@miykui