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the triangle obtains a mortal human body! and depth perception!

A bit from the latest Dimension 20 season, Mentopolis, that I thought would be fun to animate.

anyone that plays rhythm hive will get this

BRO HAERIN IS MY BIAS AND I GET AN XR?!?!

bangladeshi hatsune miku 🇧🇩

y’all pls PLS check triage out (and while you’re at it, check ALL of mai’s work out bc they are so good and u will not regret)

heeseung my sweet baby i love you 🥹🥹🥹

triage — ft. lee heeseung (chapter III)

you try to teach the nerd how to date.

synopsis: heeseung is not, by any measure, date-able. he’s dorky, he’s nerdy, and he does this weird thing where he snorts loudly every time he laughs. in fact, he loves everything that normal people are allergic to — computer science, collecting rare comic books, and birdwatching on the weekend.

given that you two have obviously nothing in common, you find yourself utterly flabbergasted when you receive a letter in your locker, on which heeseung has written, "hi. will you please teach me how to date?"

MASTERLIST HERE !

kayla’s playlist (@/miiiwaa) ♡ my shitty og playlist . tags : #.*triage .

TAGLIST

@jaeyummies @enhyflirt @kyleeanne @icedcoffeesunwoo @ssolari @skazoo @jjunis @heejake-en @koroktsuya @jeongwins @tinykoi-s @en-boyz @soobin-chois @blessed-sky @jhyunieee @kisswon @vbxrin @cosmicsunghoon @bloomedberry @jungwonielove @miiiwaa @jungwoniee @lhsng @missharubear @deonuism @sarahxy537 @bambisgirl @hrrhmay-primaryblog @yeonzzun @msxflower @sunsunu @acciomylove @sweetjaemss @seungstarss @tokyoflies @solelyenha @softforqiankun @goodforgyu @va1ry @taekbokki @luvishee @jalnandanz @person-standing @kissomen @auulraual @sonjuyeonnie @yunhowooyo @tomorrowbymoa-together @markleeisdabestdrug @aizzon @sosoa @seventeeneration @ashrocker123

chapter three

word count: 5.6k | navigation: previous / next / MASTERLIST warnings: swearing, (verbal) bullying

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎

the first time someone had ever given you butterflies, you must have been nine. at that age, you were deathly afraid of boys, and yet one of them had held your hand tightly underneath the teacher’s desk during a game of hide and seek. 

the physical contact alone had made your stomach twist into a knot, though the proximity between your breaths was what had made your heart thrash inside your chest. 

the second time, you were fourteen and on your very first date. you were at the cinemas, attempting to concentrate on the latest release when he’d leaned into your ear and told you that you looked pretty. he was right — you did look pretty, but that was something you could hardly concentrate on given how nervous you were. 

you could only think about how hot his breath was; that it tickled the sensitive skin of your ear; that when you turned your face toward his, he’d gaze at your lips and every inch of your skin felt ablaze. 

for many years, you collected your firsts, seconds, thirds and fourths, until they eventually fizzled into an ambiguous cloud of experiences; a hazy miscellany that no longer held meaning. now that you’ve gone on countless dates and have had far too many boyfriends and flings to remember, it’s hard to recall the last time anyone has ever given you butterflies.

it’s been so long since your stomach churned and slushed and you felt your heart pound out your ears; it’s been so long since you’ve last felt something. 

‘okay, miss sunset! ^_^’

well, maybe until now. 

“dude, fine. i’m sorry, okay? you can quit giving me the cold shoulder.”

ryujin’s words might only be a low whisper inside the main hall during a school assembly, but they sound more like a kiss in the rain. you smirk triumphantly, eyes trained ahead as your headmaster lectures you and the rest of the student body about some new vandalism discovered in the boy’s toilets. 

“... such behaviour will not be tolerated! we ask that the perpetrators step forward and…”

ryujin audibly groans from your silence. “are you even listening to me?”

“not really,” you reply dryly.

“oh c’mon!” she moans louder, aggrieved by your cold response. she squirms in her chair and pouts at you. “i’m sorry, okay? i won't do it again. i swear, i—”

“girls, shhh!” a passing teacher glares at you both, hovering a finger over his lips. you cast him a curt look, waiting for his exit before turning your head back to ryujin.

you compress your lips into a line, recalling all the jokes about heeseung they had piled on during lunch. 

“they were just jokes; we didn’t mean them.” she insists. “you know us! we joke around all the time.” the ends of her lips dip into a frown. “but that’s beside the point. they were mean and uncalled for and i’m sorry. can we please be friends again?” 

can we please be friends again? after the lunch incident, you’ve been cold and distant. it’s only been around two days since then, though interestingly your silence is what makes her apologise — not guilt or repentance, just the inconvenience of not having your friendship. 

then again, she’s right. they do joke all the time, though it’s not just about heeseung — it’s also about the “weird” girl with a stutter in taehyun’s chemistry class; it’s about the new transfer kid and his ugly shoes; and it’s about soobin’s pathetic teacher and the fact that he has two jobs to make ends meet. their jokes are not new and certainly not exclusive to heeseung — they’ll tear anybody down if provided the opportunity.

and perhaps this is why you’re mad — not just because your friends are mean people, but if the old adage “birds of a feather flock together” rings true — then what does this say about you? 

is their behaviour a reflection of who you are?

and if so, how are you any better than ryujin or taehyun?

“look, i’m not in the mood for this.” you hiss, peeling ryujin’s grip off you. “besides, don’t say sorry to me; say sorry to lee heeseung.” 

“since when did you care so much about that kid?” ryujin scoffs, offended by your response. “you didn’t even know who he was a few days ago and now you’re suddenly acting like his fucking mother.” 

you bite the inside of your cheeks, feeling a prick of annoyance. truthfully, it takes a lot of willpower not to beat her ass into the ground, as admittedly that’s your usual way of fixing things. you’re normally the type to communicate with your hands, or at least with venomous words. 

instead, you unclench your fists and scoff at her. “you don’t sound very apologetic.”

“because there’s literally nothing to apologise for.” she finally seethes. “shit, dude, why are you acting like you’re mother fucking teresa? let it go already.”

unbelievable, you think. after all her apologies two seconds ago. “you know what? fuck you.” you narrow your eyes at her, feeling anger vibrate off every edge of your body.

“excuse me?” she sneers. ryujin is livid. she scoffs, eyes widening in mixture of shock and anger.

“yeah, fuck you.” you roll your eyes, no longer able to disguise your utter disdain. “you’re pissing me off. stop begging me to look at you when you’re not even sorry or you don’t see the issue.”

“are you fucking kidding me?” ryujin snaps. “you literally ignored me for two days and now you’re acting like you’ve got a stick up your ass?” she gapes at you with sheer disbelief before finally snapping. “nah, honestly fuck you too. we’re done.”

.

.

.

you’ve honestly seen better days than this one.

following your fight with ryujin, classes with her as your permanent seatmate have been torturous. in fact, the heightened tensions were so great that even your teachers had begun to notice.

there were many other benefactors contributing to your horrible day — you’d discovered a rotten banana you’d accidentally left inside your locker; taehyun asked to borrow fifty dollars and got pissed when you said no; and this.

this — the cherry on top.

sim jaeyun, that conceited piece of shit! 

you angrily stomp your way down the cement paveway, furious from the phone call you had just exchanged with your older brother. 

“no. you need to learn from your own consequences.” 

“yes. i learned. i learned that my brother is an inconsiderate asshole that blows shit way out of proportion!”

“whatever, dude. i’m not picking you up. just walk home! it’s not even that far. or get your so-called bestie ryujin to drive you!” 

“but—”

“laters!”

for fuck’s sake. 

maybe he’s not wrong — a thirty-minute walk home is certainly doable, though you’re mostly enraged by his attitude. given that he’s been expressing his disapproval for your friends for as long as you can remember (though you’d rather die than admit that he was right about them), he’s obviously still angry at you for going out drinking with ryujin that time a few nights ago. who was he to think he could micromanage your life and punish you when it didn’t go his way?

now that you and ryujin aren’t on the best terms currently, you’ve been left to walk home.

grumpily, you fasten your handbag around your arm and heave a hefty sigh before trodding along your way. at this time of year, you’re far into your favourite season, spring. as you walk, you eye the flourishing spring blossoms and the leaves they pepper across the cement.

and from this activity, you’re able to drown out the time. ten minutes pass while you silently make your way home, though the sound of a bell ringing garners your attention.

you freeze in your tracks, realising somebody is behind you.

that’s when you throw your head over your shoulder.

what—

you screech to a halt. lee heeseung? on a bike?

you blink rapidly, waiting as he speedily approaches you on his bicycle. he greets you with a toothy grin and crescent eyes, something so contagious you feel your soiled mood brighten just a little bit.

“hi!” he beams, slowing to an eventual halt. you blink at him, shuffling back so that he has enough space to climb off his bike.

“heeseung? hey,” you reply coolly. “what… what are you doing here?” you merely blink, swivelling your head around in an attempt to see if he brought company. as he appears to have come alone, you continue the conversation without restraints. “also, nice bike.”

heeseung smiles again when your eyes meet, causing heat to creep up your cheeks while memories flood back into your mind. miss sunset, video games, and bowties are all you can think about. well, that and the fact that his helmet looks far too big on his small face. and also, he’s literally the only person you know that actually wears knee and elbow pads when he rides a bike.

“oh, well this is my usual route home!” heeseung brushes the hair away from his face, wiping sweat with the back of his hand. “and thank you, it’s my mom’s.” 

“i can see that.” you stifle a laugh, noticing the hand-painted yellow daisies along the skeleton of the pink bike. on top of that, there are pink streamers pouring out from the handles. “it’s pretty,” you comment honestly. in times like these, you admire heeseung — ironically enough, he’s not one to care about how others perceive him. it’s courageous, you think.

“do you need a ride home?” heeseung offers kindly, lips curling into a cute smile. “on my mom’s pretty bike?” he rings the bell on the handle once more, eliciting a slight chortle from you. dork. he’s a whole dork. “i’d offer a car, but mom needed it today.”

“hm,” you smirk playfully. “don’t worry, i think bicycles are much sexier.”

“r-really?” his eyes brighten, before the light in them quickly dims. “oh.” his lips sink with disappointment. “are you being sarcastic?”

you start to chuckle, amused by his reaction. once again, you are marvelled by his unique, natural charisma. he’s a lot easier going than one would think; he’s always been open and welcoming with you, and if anyone put in the effort, you’re sure they’d think the same way. 

you smile at him. “a ride would be lovely, thank you.”

he immediately brightens from your response. “c-cool,” he quickly nods, playing off his excitement so nicely you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t seen his lips tremble. “a-actually, i… i wanted to offer one before but then i realised i only had one helmet and it was… well, it was on my head. so i went back to the store to buy one. i hope this colour is okay.”

you blink.

huh?

he quickly scrambles for his backpack, which you now notice is visibly pregnant. when he unzips it, he extracts a matte, baby pink helmet from inside.

“y-you bought that?” you openly gawk at him. “what? why?” you ask, horrified by the inconvenience.

“motor vehicle accidents aren’t a joke.” his lips descend into a serious frown. he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, signalling the commencement of his professor-serious-nerd mode. “they’re among one of the leading causes of mortality and morbidity across the world.”

“wow,” you snort. “you act like you’re going to start drifting on your bicycle or some shit.”

his brows furrow, unimpressed by your sarcasm. “we could get hit by a car! you could get a brain injury, or a spinal cord injury, or a compound fracture!”

“oh no,” you remark sarcastically again. “that’s, like, so much worse than a normal fracture!”

his pout digs into his features. “i’m serious!” he whines while holding out the helmet for you to take.

you chortle, already feeling your mood lift. it’s truly amazing how easily good company can assuage one’s bad mood. “heeseung, i think i’ll be fine. you should return it; save your money.” you gently push the helmet back to him.

he huffs in annoyance, though you retaliate with a calm smile.

you open your mouth to eject another satirical remark, except he steps toward you and gently places the helmet over your head. you freeze from the sudden action, feeling his warm hands rub against your chin as he fastens the clip beneath it.

“just in case.” he whispers, ensuring it fits snugly on your head. after your heart stops, you feel it restart and begin to pound recklessly. “there are some elbow and knee pads in my backpack too.”

second. that was the second time heeseung has ever made your heart flutter, and the worst part might just be the fact that he has no clue.

you gulp, feeling the heat begin to branch up to the tip of your ears. you’re too utterly speechless to say anything, so you merely blink and nod quickly. you watch with a held breath as heeseung straps your joint pads on you. this is hardly a task that requires the two of you, but you nevertheless allow him to do this.

when he’s finished, heeseung swings his leg over his bike and pats his hand on the rear rack, which you assume is your seat. 

“oh, uh, th-thanks,” you mumble, forcing yourself to snap out of your daze. you plant yourself onto your seat, feet resting on the chain stays on each side of the wheels. slowly, you snake your hands around heeseung’s waist, pulling the two of you close. 

he instantly stiffens from your action, but you nevertheless allow yourself this simple joy — because while most boys liked to impress you with their big, impressive motorcycles and cool tattoos, heeseung offers you a simple ride home in his mom’s pretty bike; and somehow, the latter is more than what you need right now.

click!

“d-do we really have to do this?”

you purse your lips, ignoring heeseung’s question. instead, you lower your phone screen and examine the photos you’ve just captured, channelling special attention to the quality of the lighting and backdrop. 

what you’re searching for is cohesion — the cohesion of colours, to be specific. after all, the key to taking any good picture is an aesthetically pleasing blend and placement of colours and objects. 

“you look a little uncomfortable, heeseung.” you mumble, swiping through your collection, only to take notice of the awkward expression on his face. it’s plastered onto every single picture you’ve taken, though honestly, awkward is a severe understatement. 

in truth, he looks… fucking petrified. 

god, he’s staring into the camera with such terror encased in his eyes that he seriously looks like you’re about to eat him. or like you’re holding him at gunpoint. or like you’ve kidnapped him and are threatening to cut off all his toes to sell them for cash.

maybe he hasn’t warmed up to the camera just yet, you try to tell yourself. it’s been almost two hours since you randomly rocked up at his doorstep this saturday morning and dragged him out to visit the most picturesque cafe you know — belle epoque; a well-adorned, popular french-inspired indoor garden cafe.

at this hour, the cafe is bustling and absurdly busy, however you’re determined to untangle your next dating lesson. 

HOW TO DATE — LESSON 2 — create an attractive, confident image for yourself and never break character. like, ever.

“i… i’m not very good at taking photos.” he shyly admits, squirming as he nervously adjusts the black denim jacket he looks quite dashing in. there’s a reason why you had picked it out for him — it’s ridiculously flattering on his build; it accentuates the width of his shoulders and length of his chest. and, paired with dark ripped jeans, exudes a handsome, striking bad boy image he’s obviously not used to projecting. 

nevertheless, you’ve come here with a mission, and with the new instagram account that you’re setting up for heeseung, he’s going to have to get used to it. 

“i’m the one taking the photo, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty.”

“but…” he scratches his scalp with a finger. “i don’t know how to do that.”

“confidence, heeseung. it’s about confidence.” you iterate, swirling your straw around your iced latte as you return his stare. “you need to sit there and be confident. make this cafe your bitch.”

“my… my bitch?” he gapes at you, puzzled by your words.

“yes, your bitch.” you grin, excited by the image reform you’ve prepared for him. surprisingly, he’s pulling off this new look quite well. he looks great — really handsome, actually. the all-black fit makes him look tall and intimidating, and given that he usually has his hair styled downwards and concealing his forehead, you like how it looks partially styled back. earlier, you had even taken the liberty to use gel to style a few of the front pieces.

heeseung nods slowly at your words, seemingly taking his time to absorb the meaning of them. “o-okay.” he mumbles, nodding more rapidly to himself. “confidence. right. it’s about confidence.”

“yes.” you smirk, sipping from your cup. heeseung mirrors your action, lifting his iced tea to his lips. “so basically you can either sit there looking like you have a twenty-inch dick or you can stay looking submissive and breedable. which one is it that you want?”

heeseung instantly spurts out his iced tea and splutters everywhere, completely taken aback by your vulgarity. you stare at the mess he makes across the table and grimace, while he begins to profusely apologise for his mishap.

“s-sorry!” he squeaks in embarrassment, face turning ablaze as he rushes to wipe up his tea. “i-i was just surprised—”

you can’t help it.

you burst out into wicked laughter now, doubling over in your seat as you clutch your stomach. heeseung frowns at you at first, though soon he begins to slowly laugh with you, until you’re both two giggling maniacs inside one of the busiest cafes in town.

within a week, your friendship with heeseung blossoms.

soon, your interactions extend far beyond intermittent interactions. eventually, you’re texting him at night. then mornings. afternoons. weekends. you distance yourself from the rest of your social circle and spend your lunch recess with him at the community garden. there, you let him ramble on about his favourite bird species and all the behavioural observations he’s collected about the cute ones you recognise. you stifle giggles during class while he floods your inbox with ridiculously dumb chemistry memes. he’ll turn his head over his shoulder and you’ll sneak small smiles at each other, just for the teacher to scold him to turn back around. you complain about your least favourite classes and he’ll draw little comic strips in your notebooks so that they can keep your entertained. you steal his glasses as a joke and lovingly tease him for how strong his prescription is. you divulge all your favourite hairstylists (the ones you swore to gatekeep) and craft him pinterest boards for fashion inspiration. you drag him around the shopping mall despite his whiny protests. he takes you to gaming cafes and libraries and introduces you to all his beloved librarian aunties.

there’s a point where he becomes the only friend you have, and you forget the late nights partying and smoking. soon, you break records you never thought could be wavered — in fact, you shatter your past favourites and replace them with new ones — smiles you thought could not be wider; laughs you thought could not be louder; photos you thought could not look more lovable.

and he’s also the first friend you’ve spoken about to your parents.

“he’s so cool. you can literally ask him anything and he’ll be able to tell you all about it. he’s literally like a walking wikipedia, it’s insane.”

“mm. really?”

“yep!” you shove a piece of watermelon into your mouth and grin while seated at the kitchen counter. “he’s so smart. one time i literally asked him if he knew anything about sustainable agriculture and he went into an hour-long rant. honestly i didn’t know what the fuck he was saying but it was pretty cool he had anything to say in the first place.”

your mother wrinkles her nose when she laughs. “yes, dear. you told me that already.” 

“did i tell you that he’s the top student in our school?”

she stifles another laugh. “yes, that too.”

“oh! right. yes. first date tips!” you lower the ice cream cone in your hand and turn toward heeseung. he blinks at you from across the park bench while timidly licking his strawberry cone.

“dress well. smell good. make sure it’s not longer than four hours because fuck that shit. text her afterwards, and if you drop her off, make sure you wait until she goes inside the house before you drive off. oh, and make sure to compliment her. but be sincere; it’s kinda obvious when you compliment somebody and don’t really mean it.”

heeseung bobs his head slowly, quietly absorbing your words. you continue to unload your years’ worth of dating wisdom onto the boy, scouring through archives and archives of learned lessons. 

“unpopular opinion, but i don’t really think cinema dates are all that,” you continue while consuming your delicious treat. “it’s two hours and for what? the two of you to sit there in silence? big whoop.”

“hm…” heeseung taps his lips thoughtfully. “so you prefer talkative dates? like, um… sitting and chatting?” he smiles expectantly at you, a hopeful glint in his eyes, though you quickly distinguish that light the instant he sees your smile fall.

you cringe. “oh god no.”

his smile falters. “n-no?” his eyes round with surprise.

“hell nah,” you shudder. “do you know how insufferable that is? especially when all the guy talks about is gymming. like, bitch, why are you regurgitating the nutritional information of protein powder? do i look like john cena to you?” 

heeseung giggles from your joke, causing you to smile softly. 

perhaps you are utterly crazy for thinking this, but you think the sound of heeseung’s laugh is melodic. and cute. and contagious. and adorably innocent, and lately, it’s been incredibly refreshing being able to see and hear such wholesome things coexist in a world you’ve always regarded cynically. 

truthfully, being around heeseung is almost like a healthy addiction — you’ve been primed for badness all your life that even goodness has begun to feel enticing. though admittedly, you feel a prick of impending doom. are you preparing him for a world that’ll eat him alive? that’ll dim his chandelier eyes and rob his toothy smile and stifle his childish laugh?

you know all about what people want these days. people don’t want romance. they want short-lived highs and pretty trophies to align neatly along a shelf, just to discard when they’ve fulfilled their purpose. 

heeseung is special. you’re never normally wrong about these things. he is kind, and gentle, and in a single word — good. he is everything you’re not used to and everything the world loves to corrupt. after all, he has the power to convince a stony-hearted pessimist that even she is deserving of this friendship. 

“c-can i ask you a question?”

your eyes instantly flutter toward him. you quickly nod your head, watching him with anticipation, though you feel the melted liquid from your icecream begin to reach your fingers. “sure. what’s up?”

heeseung clamps his lips together nervously. you watch as his brows knit together and he scratches the back of one of his ears. as you’ve noticed, that was one of his awkward quirks — he tends to scratch his hair, or his ear, or his nose whenever he felt emotionally unequipped to say whatever it is he wished to. 

“um… well, d-do you want to be, like…”

be…?

“be, um… be my…”

be his…?

“my…”

his…

“date?”

you freeze, feeling the world slow into an eventual halt. his date? your eyes instantly widen, though you’re not quite quick enough with your response. 

“i-i mean, not a real date-date, i meant, like, date to my aunt’s wedding!” he quickly adds, waving his hands around as though he’s attempting to dismiss a misunderstanding. simultaneously, he may be attempting to disperse the tension circulating in the air. “i-it’s just that my cousin got sick over the weekend, and so there’s an empty seat th-that’s already been paid for, and… well… my mom suggested that i, um… that i ask… you.”

oh.

“y-you totally don’t have to!” heeseung squeaks, brushing his hair down to cover his forehead while redness begins to diffuse across his cheeks. he visibly fidgets the more time goes on. “no pressure. it’ll probably be really boring anyway, it’s just that you’re the coolest person i know, and um, okay, i’m so sorry maybe no—”

“i’d love to.” 

there’s silence before he snaps his head up at you. “r-really?”

“yeah,” you slowly smile, nodding with increasing momentum. “sounds super fun. i’ve actually never been to a wedding before.”

heeseung instantly erupts into a wide smile. he beams like sunshine at midday — you smile back, feeling your heart swell with glee as he excitedly grips both your shoulders and lightly shakes you. “r-really?” he exclaims excitedly. “this is going to be so fun! i’ll… i’ll make sure you have lots of fun for your first wedding then!”

you giggle. “yeah, you better take care of me then.”

he nods ecstatically. “i’ve got the perfect bowtie for the occasion!”

.

.

.

though you expect nothing less, the wedding turns out to be a blast. actually, it exceeds your expectations entirely, though you suspect it’s because heeseung truly has made it a priority that you enjoy yourself. 

throughout the hours, there is not a single reason for you to not have fun, especially not with heeseung as your date. he drags you around and introduces you to his extended family, simultaneously spilling all the family secrets and the embarrassing nicknames people have collected over the years. you both go around sneaking food into people’s drinks, giggling childishly about the thought of somebody finding a macaroni at the bottom of a glass of cabernet. 

you sing, you take photos, and you chat for hours though it feels like a quarter of one. neither of you know how to properly ballroom dance, so you end up stepping on each other’s feet and stumbling over one another the entire time, though it’s more funny than anything else.

eventually, as you near the end of the night and heeseung offers you a ride home — a proper car ride home, as he liked to emphasise — you excuse yourself to the bathroom for one final touch-up before concluding one of the most fun nights you’ve had in a while. 

you stand in front of the mirror, staring in awe at your reflection, unable to rid yourself of the most contagious smile you’ve ever worn. it looks like an accessory, given how brightly it dazzles. 

how does he do it?

how does he spread so much goodness?

you smile at yourself through the mirror, rewinding the events of the night. your mind seems to enjoy replaying all the encoded images of heeseung’s expressions in your mind — him grinning, him frustrated by dancing, him embarrassed and mortified when his mother told you about the time he cried for 48 hours when he accidentally stepped on one of his ants from his ant farm.

“i love your dress.” 

you blink, eyes flickering across the mirror, just to notice the girl standing two sinks beside you. you squint, unable to recall when another person had entered the bathroom. as you stare longer, you then realise that it’s his cousin kim minjeong, who is also a student at your school. truthfully, you hadn’t expected they were related at all, though heeseung had sheepishly admitted that she had begged him not to tell anyone anything in fear of her social reputation.

you curtly smile at her in response, though she stares right back at you through the mirror.

“the green really suits your skin tone. was it a coincidence to match with heeseung’s bowtie?”

you smile affectionately, thinking about how adorably surprised he looked when you rocked up in a dress you had specifically matched with his chosen bowtie.

“yeah.” you laugh briefly, amused by the memory. “i thought it’d look cool.”

“it’s hot.” minjeong giggles, reaching into the depths of her purse to extract lipstick from it. while she reapplies the colour onto her lips, she continues to blabber. “by the way, isn’t my cousin such a loser?” she laughs, adjusting how her bangs sit on her forehead. “my friends recently found out that we’re related. fuck, so embarrassing. literally wanted to dig my own grave.”

“why?” you furrow your brows, though you desperately attempt to conceal your disdain.

she snorts. “what do you mean why? he’s a dweeb, duh. but like, i guess at least you’re giving him a little more social cred now that you’re hanging out with him.”

you feel an unpleasant taste in your mouth as you begin to outwardly frown.

“it’s so embarrassing being related to him. you know what my friends said when they found out? they told me his virginity was genetic and that i was going to die alone because they thought it must run in the family. fuck, honestly, i couldn’t even get mad. even taehyun sai—” she freezes when she realises the name she’s just uttered.

you stare at her emotionlessly, understanding the reason for her silence — it was eventually inevitable that the rumours had circulated back to you — minjeong was taehyun’s new girlfriend. sure, you and taehyun had never been dating in the first place, but you were his longest fling to date, and this was a well-known fact in school. 

“um… yeah. nevermind.” she stifles a giggle.

this was the reason why you had been so taken aback that minjeong and heeseung share blood; the girl is intolerable. she could not make it any clearer that she wanted you to know about her and taehyun, though what she probably doesn’t anticipate is that you couldn’t care less about their new relationship. 

“it’s cool.” you shrug nonchalantly. “i really don’t care.”

“wow, you’re so chill.” minjeong smiles, though it edges a smirk. “got any tips?”

“tips?”

“yeah, tips for dating him. tips for making him happy.” 

you already want to throw your head back and project a loud cackle into the sky. is she purposely trying to annoy you? if she weren’t heeseung’s family, you’d have already demolished her, though you practise self-control given that you’re at a family junction. “i don’t know, be hot? that generally makes him pretty happy.” 

her jaw goes slack at your implication while you narrow your eyes. you’ve never been one people dared to pick fights with, so you’re sure to emphasise precisely why. “and another piece of advice, don’t go around bragging about taehyun. he’s a parasite and not a flex, so you’re better off just waving around a sign that says i’m a fucking moron.”

it’s courtesy that you don’t mention the fact that taehyun has been blowing up your phone — in your absence, he’s sent countless text messages and attempted many phone calls. in fact, you were doing minjeong a favour by reminding her that gold-covered shit is still, surprise surprise, shit.

.

.

.

the ride home, you decide to stay silent about what had happened with minjeong, though you’re sure heeseung had noticed her storm out of the bathroom. 

instead, you let comfortable silence engulf the two of you while you lean your head against the window and watch your surroundings blur and blend like a speedy movie edit. heeseung drives well and the drive is long, so you even have the opportunity to shut your eyes and capture fragments of sleep. 

when he gently wakes you up and announces the arrival outside your home, you turn your head and slowly seat yourself upward. 

“jeez. sorry i slept,” you grumble, shaking your head as you brush the hair away from your face.

the boy profusely shakes his head. “no worries!” he smiles. “i’m an exceptional driver.”

“evidently. i slept like a baby.”

“yep, you literally had your thumb in your mouth and everything, too.” he jests. you giggle before reaching over your knees to collect your coat and your handbag. 

“in all seriousness, thank you so much for inviting me. i had a really, really great time.” you showcase your best smile, one which you liked to reserve for moments like these.

“s-sure.” he stutters, brushing his hair with his fingers. “thank you for agreeing to come. did i.. um… tell you how pretty you looked?”

“repeatedly.” you bite back a smile when his face falls into a horrified expression.

“oh.” he mumbles, blinking. “o-okay.”

you want to reach over and grab his face. he’s so cute. he’s too cute; he’s so precious and you want to shield him from the world. however, again practising your self-control, you opt for unbuckling your seatbelt and waving at him. “i’ll see you at school.”

“w-wait—”

you halt, a hand hovering over the door handle. “hm?”

“can… can i do something a bit stupid?”

you nod.

“can i…”

hug you?

kiss you?

“consider this my first real date?”

you hold your breath, frozen to your core — you fear that if you move, for even just a fraction of an inch — you will shatter this daydream and be dragged back to reality; one that most accurately mirrors cinderella’s tale.

you’re afraid you’ve struck midnight.

“o-of course.” you whisper, your voice as fragile as glass.

his face is immediately swept up with a bright smile. “dress well, smell well, compliment her, and—” he quickly checks his wristwatch. “a little over four hours, but that’s okay, right?”

“wh-what?” you blink.

“your rules for a good first date. how did i do? did you like it?”

you stare speechlessly, eyes bouncing between each of his, unable to comprehend his words. truthfully, your words are caught in your throat.

“i think your silence is a yes,” he mumbles. “but i also don’t care too much what you think, because i had fun and my date was pretty.”

there that word is again — pretty. his pretty date.

you feel your stomach twist and your heart begin to race, because while you must have convinced yourself that you were far beyond the stage of craving romance — you’re not.

you want it. you want romance. you want this romance, you want the one with the smiles and the giggles and the clumsy ballroom dancing and ice creams at a park and foam moustaches from nice cafes around town. you desperately want this kind of romance, but you want it with heeseung.

because you’ve realise that while you’re a sunset, heeseung is a sunrise. 

the kind of sunrise that rises during dawn; one that touches everything around it with a golden glow and brightens any room to the standards of heaven.

he makes everything around him glow. 

even you.

he makes even you feel like you can glow.

//

to be continued.

*taglist is open, just comment or send an ask :>

a/n: OMG HELLOOO BFFS im saurry for yet again another late update 💔 pls don't cancel me,,, im 2 slow at this game 😔 but BUT thank you SO much for reading hehe i will definitely try to update much earlier for the next chapter 🥰 SO??? HOW DID LITTLE HEE DO??? GIVE HIM SOME CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK 😫 also please nobody talk ab the fact that the writing here is absolutely DOG SHITE im screaming crying this was just not it but im.... too smooth brain to edit rn 🙁 but nevertheless seriously thank u sm for all the support for triage so far :((( i cant wait for the next few chaps grrrrr anyway MUAHHH LOVE U GUYSSS sm <33 pls do support me via liking + reblogging if u can !! :> ill try be quicker w the next update !!!

yo im literally cheesin rn..

I CANT TAKE THE CUTENESS😔

I jus wanna shut my baby brain off and let big bad daddy rafey take care of me :(

oh this is sooo muñeca & sugar daddy!rafe coded …

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

you were entirely too emotional and high-strung — but who could blame you? with your skyrocketing hormones and mere hours that stood between your sweet papi rafe going back home to kildare, while you remained in culebra was becoming way too much for you to handle. and rafe couldn’t find it in himself to reprimand you, you’d been doing so well when it came to putting your big girl panties on and fighting back the impending waterworks that welled at your waterline, whenever it came time for rafe to go back home — you practiced!

but, unfortunately you’d lost every ounce of your resolve when your doe eyes fell on the two suitcases that sat at the edge of rafe’s bed.

sat in the middle of the plush firmness of the california king bed, your small body hiccuping with incessant cries, you curled your knees into your chest, “on-one — more — day,” you squeaked out, your jumbled words cut into choppy huffs of air as rafe pursed his lips into a tight line.

stood firmly beside the bed with his hands planted on his waist, rafe pinched the bridge of his nose with a knowing sigh, “c’mon, kid — y’been through this many times already, yeah?” met with a sharp cry from you, rafe is quick to switch into complete father-figure mode, letting out a piercing whistle, “hey! cut it out, y’gonna knock y’self out, cryin’ like that,” he scolds, his voice firm as you raise your puffy-tear stained face from your knees with a sniffle.

“quédate conmigo, please papi,” you squeak out, stretching both of your arms out in a reach towards rafe, your bottom lip all wobbly.

taking a seat at the edge of the bed, rafe opens an arm, beckoning you into his lap with a flick of his two signet-ringed fingers as you immediately and obediently crawl into his lap with a whimper, “a’ight, no more cryin’ — don’t need y’passin out on me before i go, hm?” rafe soothes, bringing his hand seamlessly clasp around the back of your neck.

nodding the side of your cherub cheek against rafe’s collarbone, you let out a breath of relief, “when d-do you come back,” you question softly, your doe eyes all sore and heavy from your earlier sobs as you quickly knuckle away the wetness at the tip of your nose.

“no … do not start that, you hear me?” rafe scolds, his free hand lightly tapping the side of your soft thigh, earning a frustrated mewl from you. squeezing your neck, rafe urges a verbal answer from you.

much to rafe’s very dismay, his corrective tone only set you off even further — you didn’t want your papi to be mad at you before he left. so, your bambi eyes were quick to well with warm tears, a warning sniffle itching at your nose as you shook your head, before heaving into rafe’s neck.

“fuck — okay, princess. hey, need y’to look at your papi now, yeah? can y’look at me — can’t look at me if y’cryin, pretty girl,” rafe coos, gently pulling your leg to straddle his hips as he pushes your face up to meet his, with a slight nudge of his shoulder. met with red and glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, rafe brings both of his hands to cradle each side of your face.

“a’ight, need y’to a good girl while m’gone, okay? y’gonna be a good girl for daddy?” rafe questions, slightly mushing your cheeks together as you huff out a wobbly breath, before licking over your swollen lips.

softly nodding in rafe’s grasp, you sniffle, “yes.”

allowing a satisfied smirk to play on his lips, rafe pulls your face down, leaning forehead against his, “good. now, i need y’to go to sleep, kid. i won’t be here when you wake up, but —”

fat tears are quick to brim your lower lash line as you whine in rafe’s grasp, “no—”

shushing you with a corrective tut, rafe pecks your lips in a silencing kiss, “shh … i always come back for you, don’t i? always call you, send you pretty presents — got you that laptop s’you can see me when y’get sad, yeah?”

with an appreciative nod, your lips brush against rafe — your papi always kept his promises, “g-going to mi-miss you,” you shudder, your voice all cracked and uneven as you stare directly into rafe’s bright baby blues, silently wishing you’d be able to make him stay just one more night.

“i know, kid,” rafe sighs, gently easing the both of you to fall back on the bed, one arm secured around your waist as he slides a free hand to the back of your head, lightly scratching at your scalp, “promise, m’gonna come back and take good care of you, yeah? s’my job to make sure m’little girl is happy,” he coos, leaving you to nod against his neck as you slowly, but surely begin to doze off.

whispering sweet nothing into your sleepy ear, rafe remains awake, until he’s one hundred percent sure that your asleep, your parted lips blowing warm air against his neck. once your breathing calmed into a steady rhythm, rafe was careful about maneuvering your drowsy body, carefully removing the small hand that rested on his face and placing it on his chest.

it was never easy for rafe to leave his girl in an island that was so far from him. he liked being in control and in the know of all moving parts in your day to day, so leaving you to fend for yourself — despite being waited in hand and foot by the hired help of the villa — rafe fought the urge to fly you to kildare altogether. you were still so wet behind the ears, so fragile and sentimental, such a transition would be way too much for your little heart to handle.

placing the pillow that sat under his head to rest in the tight hold of your arms, rafe reaches for the powder pink iphone that sits on the nightstand, placing it beside the pillow, ready for your use, the moment you woke up.

you just hoped that your papi rafe would be proud that you were awake the entire time and didn’t cry … because you practiced!

I CANNOT LIKE THIS IS SO CUTE IM LITERALLY CHEESING RN

Would it be okay if you could write deaf!reader x Eddie where she’s new at school and meets Eddie. The rest can be up to you. Thank you xxx

I have never written a deaf character before so the representation might be off, but I gave it a shot! I know in movies and shows, sometimes they can talk and sometimes it is just sign language, but I went with writing notes to make it romantic. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

I wrote a scene with a guitar amp and it was so hard to keep this story sweet and fluff and not turn it into smut

No words

It didn't take long for the new girl to catch Eddie's eyes. She was cute and seemed to be in her own little world. Eddie admired that she never seemed to care what happened around her.

He wanted to talk to her, but he wasn't the best at making a first impression. He wasn't the best at saying what he meant out loud. He was a writer. He wrote countless songs because he knew how to write down his feelings, not say them.

She was in a few of his classes, and he sat behind her. He watched as she walked into class, admiring her style. He assumed she was shy since she never spoke. She sat silently in class and kept to herself.

Eddie ripped out a piece of paper from a notebook he never touched. He scrambled down a message, then folded it. He took a deep breath and reached forward to tap her on the shoulder.

She turned around confused. She looked as the boy handed her something. She grabbed the note as she examined him.

He was mad cute. He had dark curly long hair, warm brown eyes, and pink lips. He wore a red and black flannel with dark jeans and dirty sneakers. She wished she could just stare but she didn't want to be creepy. She turned around and unfolded the paper.

"I'm Eddie, what's your name?"

She smiled to herself as she wrote her name underneath his. With a smile. She turned around and handed it back to him.

Eddie was shocked she wrote back to him. Before he could stare at her any longer, she turned around. Finally being that close to her face he realized she was prettier than ever.

His stomach fluttered as he saw her name and a tiny smile. Pleased that she didn't ignore him or write a mean message back.

"Well Y/N welcome to Hawkins High School. It sucks ass. The town is a little better, if you want a tour or anything I'm available."

She smiled as she felt a tap on her shoulder again, the teacher focused on the board as she turned. Her face burned as her fingers touched his as she took the note.

Eddie watched as her body moved up and down as she shook her head. He smiled as it seemed like she was laughing to herself. She felt nervous about saying yes, but she also didn't want to say no.

"Only if you promise to show me a great burger place ;)"

She waited until the teacher wasn't paying attention as she turned around and gave him the note. She turned around fast and Eddie opened it. He smiled and patted himself on the back.

The bell rang and she began to pack up. Eddie took a deep breath and walked in front of her desk.

"Hey Y/N," she looked up as she felt his presence. She focused on his lips. "Want to go after school today?"

She smiled and nodded

"Sweet, I'll meet you at the front?" he asked, he felt his face burn as she leaned close and stared at his lips. Her eyes squinted as she fully focused.

She nodded and smiled again. Waving goodbye as she walked to her next class.

~

Eddie waited outside the front door. He was nervous but excited. Befriending the new kid wasn't something Eddie ever did, but there was something about her that he wanted to know.

He smiled as she came into view, she waved as she got closer.

They didn't talk as they headed to his van. A couple students whispered as the two passed. And some students began to yell "FREAK!"

He felt comforted by the fact she didn't seem to notice it. And if she did, she ignored it.

Eddie started the van and turned down his radio, he remembered how loud he had it blaring this morning. He smiled over at her and she smiled back.

~

It didn't take long to make it to the burger place. The ride was a tad awkward as she didn't really talk, it more was of Eddie talking to himself.

They got seated in a booth, Eddie sat across from her as he nervously flipped through the menu.

He felt a soft tap on his menu, and he looked up.

Y/N smiled as she handed him a piece of paper.

He took the paper and read it, his eyebrows scrunched.

"I should probably tell you that I am deaf, so I'll be staring at your lips to communicate with you. Also, can you order for me?"

Eddie smiled and nodded. He snatched her pen and quickly wrote his own message.

She happily read it as he wrote

"No problem, I've been told I talk too much so maybe you not hearing me talk is a win. I will order for you, what would you like?"

Her heart raced as he moved on from the topic like it didn't change anything.

"Bacon cheeseburger, fries, and chocolate shake. Thank you for this, I'm excited to get to know you better and would love to watch you talk for hours :)"

~~~

The first date went amazing in Eddie's eyes. He didn't mind writing down his words, he enjoyed watching her reactions as she read the words. They ate, and he made her laugh over and over.

He knew he wanted to ask her on another date, he wanted to ask her out every night of the week.

She waved as she walked into class, Eddie gave her a flirty nod that made her dash for her seat faster.

He grabbed a piece of paper and began writing but she slid a note right on top of his.

He looked up as she turned around.

He opened it as the teacher wasn't looking

"Date #2? I saw an ice cream place on our tour yesterday."

~

Eddie came prepared for this date, he had a notebook and all different kinds of pens.

She waited on a bench outside as he ordered their ice cream. He prayed he'd make it to her before dropping any on the ground.

She smiled as he sat down next to her and handed her the ice cream. The first few minutes were silent as they tried to eat the ice cream before it began to melt.

They asked many questions about each other yesterday, so Eddie tried to think of new things to talk about.

"You look beautiful"

She felt her cheeks warm as she read his handwriting, she wrote just below his message. He watched as she wrote,

"Thank you. You are pretty cute too"

"You have a little something on your cheek,"

She read the note and was confused. She looked up at Eddie and she felt a cold glob on her cheek.

She watched as Eddie's face morphed into a smile as he laughed behind his hand. She smiled and grabbed a chunk of her ice cream, she watched as Eddie's smile dropped.

"No no, I'm sorry!" he said as she read his lips. He got up to run but she was fast behind him. He didn't make it far before she jumped on his back, his arms catching her legs as she smeared her ice cream right on his nose.

He let her down as he laughed, then she joined in.

"Uncool," he teased once he faced her. She just smiled and shrugged.

He smiled as he leaned in, his hand on her cheek as he wiped off the ice cream with his thumb.

Her breathing got faster as he looked into her eyes, his soft touch on her cheek made her heart race.

"Can I kiss you?"

He felt his stomach turn with nerves as he waited for her to read his lips. He got even more nervous when she blinked but didn't say anything.

He wanted to kiss her? She had never kissed anyone before and she wanted to tell him how nervous she was but she couldn't walk away.

She grabbed his hand and softly used her finger to write letters. He concentrated as he watched her fingers spell something out.

"N.E.R.V.O.U.S"

"Ner-nervous? You are nervous?" he asked, she watched his lips and then nodded. He cupped her jaw with his free hand, watching as she took a deep breath.

"Me too," he whispered, she read his lips and then saw his lips moving closer to her.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. It took a few seconds for her to shake off the nerves and kiss him back. She wasn't sure where to put her hands so she softly placed them on his chest.

He tasted of chocolate chip ice cream. And his lips felt amazing against hers. The kiss got better as they grew both confident.

He pulled away with a beaming smile, the ice cream on his nose transferred to her face.

"Let's get cleaned up," he laughed, she nodded and followed behind. Butterflies in her stomach as she felt her lips.

~~~

After many more dates, they became an official couple. Eddie's friends made sure she was comfortable and talked slowly so she could read their lips. They didn't mind reading and writing to communicate. It was clear that there was a connection between her and Eddie.

Eddie adjusted and took a beginner class in sign language. He was proud to show what he learned after every class. Sometimes he taught her new words.

One thing Y/N hated was that she couldn't share music with Eddie. She learned that was a huge part of his life from the beginning, and it made her sad that she could never hear him sing or play.

That doesn't mean Eddie ever excluded her. He'd have her sit next to his guitar amp, hook it all up, and let her feel the music as it played through. He'll never forget how excited she was when she could feel the music against her hand.

And that's what she did at his shows. She sat front row and placed her hands on the speakers.

He did it all because he loved her...he just hasn't said it yet.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

Jason DiLaurentis i love you

Edit by @Editzofpll

he’s so mmmmmm 🫦👅😛

i will never be able to get over them lips

My favorite genre of Eddie: in the background, very pretty, doing absolutely nothing.

i’m not talking about the little blurbs no i’m talking about chapters long. if you find any good ones pls lmk !

bae dat ass sit up better than two bunk beds

does anyone have any fic recommendations for bully!eddie or older!eddie ?

OLDER than my father..

probably gonna end up going

fuck my life

fuck my life

She so me coded

𖨆♡𖨆 ran haitani x fem!reader, hanma shuji x fem!reader

╰┈➤ yearning for revenge after the untimely death of your father, you come to discover an underground organization called bonten and how its executive may have all the answers you need. the big catch? you were the first ever girl that broke his heart.

: ̗̀➛ explicit smut, mentions of a murder, guns, mentions of drugs, fear play, prostitution, mention of heights, daddy kink, creampie, mild exhibitionism, pet names (princess), spit kink, murder, blood, gore, torture, joint breaking, angst, mentions of a past relationship, mentions of a body disposal, slut-shaming, language, smoking, drinking, MDNI

masterlist 🌙

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊 #𝟏

The air tonight tasted of electricity, its charge sparking in your bloodstream.

Fidgeting in your skintight dress and boots, you wondered if you were a little overdressed considering how some of the girls milled around in skirts that barely covered their asses and crop tops that were just the barest suggestion of clothes upon their frames.

The bass boosting through the floors mimicked the palpitation of your heart and you steeled yourself, looking both ways before you crossed the street.

So, this was the infamous Haitani bar that everyone from your roommate, Kira, to her pimp was talking about. You could see why it generated much intrigue.

On the outside, the facade suggested a modest office building that boasted a helipad at its very top, like a flat cap over a square head. Rumour has it that the Haitanis liked to arrive to their own bar not in cars or even limos—but through their own private helicopter which gives them discreet entrance. The top floor, especially, was a cordoned-off area where only those who had a special pass could enter.

That, or to go in disguised as one of the many prostitutes Ran and Rindou hired to keep spirits up and the booze flowing all night long.

You had to hand it to them; those Haitani brothers were exceptionally good businessmen.

Tugging the hem of your dress down, you approached the bouncer who let you through with barely a glance at your ID. You frowned inwardly; shouldn’t security here be at its maximum capacity?

After all, Ran and Rindou were two of the most important Bonten executives—a position so feared that even the most hardened pimp would shudder at the name of Japan’s most notorious criminal organisation.

Downstairs, people were packed like sardines, girls hanging off random men’s laps or dancing in groups like a shoal of fish, bait for the sharks that lurked around the rooms.

You weren’t excused from their leering stares and kept your head down, sole mission in mind. In the elevator, you called for the highest level, the numbers on the keypad blinking every time you rose one floor higher. To calm yourself for what you had to do, you reached inside your purse for the faded photograph; your father’s smile bright in the palm of your hand.

I’ll do this for you, dad, was your silent promise. The elevator dinged and you walked towards the cordoned-off bar where the crowds were nonexistent, and all that stood between you and finding Ran Haitani was one stern looking bouncer. His muscles rippled almost threateningly under his suit, staring you up and down.

“No one is allowed to enter.”

You took in a deep breath and spoke in a low, but clear voice. “Haitani-san hired me.”

The guard arched a brow. “Which Haitani?”

Somehow, it felt like a trick question and when you answered Ran, it seemed that you had failed the test.

“Mr. Haitani is not the one that deals with hookers,” he all but growled, and despite the streaks of grey in his hair and noticeable age, you sensed without a doubt that he was able to manhandle you and toss you over the balcony railing if he so wished to.

Holding your ground, you gritted your teeth and forced out: "There must be some kind of mistake. I was requested to be here.”

The guard had evidently grown tired of this back and forth; he approached you and gripped your arm tightly, pushing you towards the elevator door. “Let go of me!” Your hunch was proven right; he was incredibly strong and did not let up, not even when you dug your heels in to impede him.

“I won’t tell ya again, miss,” he growled. “Please leave before I throw you off the fucking building myself.”

“One of his clients told me to be here!" You fought back, the desperation clawing up your throat.

His scowl deepened and a vein was threatening to pop from his temple. “Last chance. You’re gonna have to leave, miss.”

You physically and literally held your ground, gripping the railing with white knuckles. “Not until I see him.”

“Miss, I won’t ask you twice—“

“What’s going on here?”

As if he had turned to jelly, the guard released you and quickly folded into a bow. “Mr. Haitani, sir—“ you didn’t hear his babbling, your mind struggling to comprehend the deepness of that voice and how it brought back a surge of memories you could not ignore.

A smug smile, long, bleached-black hair that you loved running your fingers through, nights spent raiding the closest convenience stores, an empty phone log…

“… Ran?”

A beat of silence as he took in your face before the recognition set in.

“Y/N?”

He was different—no scratch that, he didn’t even look like his old self. Gone were the twin braids and dip-dyed bleached hair. Now, he sported a full hair of light purple locks that contrasted vividly with the frown that was etched on his face and the tattoo peeking underneath the collar of an expensive suit.

Before you could open your mouth, he reached out and gripped your shoulder, steering you towards the bar’s entrance.

“She’s with me.”

“I’m so sorry, Haitani-san, I—“ the guard’s splutters were not to be heard; Ran waved him off and trailed those hardened lilac eyes onto you. The press of his palm was warm on your bare skin.

“Didn't anyone warn you that this his bar isn’t a place for girls like you?”

You were surprised to say the least. It seemed as if those five years that you spent separated from him dissolved into nothing; he still spoke to you in that same infuriating manner like you hadn’t ghosted him out of the blue—like you hadn’t broken his heart.

“Girls like me?” For your credit, you were still as argumentative as ever. As his hard gaze bore into yours, you realised some things never changed.

Ran Haitani would always treat you like you were an errant child.

“My men are armed to the teeth and you could have walked out of here with more than a bruise,” was his retort. Your indignant anger faded a little when you eyed the tasteful bar decorations. It seemed like a different world existed up here compared to the crowded dance floor below. There was no thumping music, no drugs and no sharks waiting for you to let your guard down. Rather, bossa nova jazz music filtered over the speakers; even the people here were classier than you anticipated—all suits and dresses that tastefully showed off skin.

You stuck out like a sore thumb in your black bodycon and boots, and it appears you were not the only person who was aware of it. The women eyed you up and down, though the men were more discreet. But the one thing they all had in common? The moment it registered that Ran Haitani was beside you, all their gazes fell to the floor.

He led you to the outside bar where a few people mingled around, smoking cigars and joking amongst themselves in low tones. Ran chose a table closest to the balustrades. Immediately, two well-dressed waiters arrived to wipe down the table, set down some snacks as well as a bottle of whiskey—glowing almost amber in the half-light.

That bottle alone look like it could’ve cost more than your rent.

You sat down opposite him and watched as he removed a packet of cigarettes and a metal lighter. The click of it was loud in the silence and you didn’t know what compelled you to blurt out your next sentence, but it came out without a second thought, and you had to suffer the repercussions of his disbelief.

“Your guard didn't believe me when I told him I was a prostitute."

Those impassive lilac hues flickered onto you. “What?”

As if explaining yourself to a child, you spelled it out for him. “I’m a hooker, Ran.”

For a long moment, he did not speak. He reached forward to uncap the whiskey bottle, poured himself a cup and sat back in the plush chair. There was nothing on his face that indicated any real emotion he had towards his ex-girlfriend being in an unsavoury position, nor did he make fun of you for your new occupation. All he did was frown and said: “How’d that happen? You always said you wanted to go to business school and you’re pulling this type of shit?”

Something about the way he phrased that sentence made it feel like a slap to your face. “You don’t have to sound like my dad, Haitani.”

If there was one strange power you had over the feared Haitani brother, it would be the ability to make his blood boil with just a few words. "Huh? Do you need money? Is there someone pimping you out? What’s his name?”

You hadn’t expected him to launch into his righteous anger on your behalf, and you sat back, wide-eyed.

For Ran, he was in disbelief over how you had turned out in the five short years he lost contact with you. He had always admired your vision of climbing the corporate ladder and how you had mapped out the future together with him even knowing full well the dark path he had taken to build Bonten from the ground up together with his younger brother and a few other chosen men.

But, that was when you both were still fresh-faced twenty year olds and a novice to the hardships of life. In those years when you left him, he had climbed the ranks and claimed many, many lives to do so. His blood ran dirty with all the futures he had destroyed and you…

How did you end up like this?

You were always such a sweet thing; concern for others outweighing your need for self-preservation. A girl like you did not belong on the streets and the both of you knew it.

“I work for myself, Ran,” you clarified and he had to stop himself from shivering at how his name sounded on your lips. “I choose who I work with, when and how much I charge them.”

He was still at a loss, and the glass of whiskey he had ached for the whole evening seemed like contaminated water in this instance. Ran pushed it back and raised one perfectly groomed brow.

“Why?”

You fiddled with your fingers and stared out towards the scenery. If Ran had to choose one spot he could easily lose himself in, it would be this place. Rindou’s strategic choice of a bar faced the Tokyo skyline; from his perch, he could map out the outline of the Tokyo Exchange Building, a stout cube in the heart of the city. He could trace the rail lines, the jagged edges of the district of Roppongi where he and Rindou once reigned supreme.

“I… lost my dad,” you confessed. Similarly, he found himself at a loss too for what to say, his expression carefully construed to remain neutral. “He died shortly before we broke up. I… I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t know how to say it.”

The young executive tipped his whiskey around the glass and took a drag of his cig, unable to look you in the eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he eventually said and followed up with another question which you could not easily answer.

“Is that why you dumped me?”

After five years of wondering, five years of searching out for answers and wracking his brain for something he might have done to piss you off, Ran was finally graced with the faltering of your expression.

He recalled stepping out of the elevator aching for a drink only to be confronted by the sight of someone who held the shape of you, a shape he could always easily map out even in the darkness. His heart had soared, but he tamed down the excitement, reasoning that of course it could not be you; he had done everything in his power to seek you out in those 1825 days he spent without you, where it seemed like you had dropped off the face of the earth.

Little did he know how the past could show up unannounced when one stopped searching for it. He still was not done trying to flay it apart and find out the truth.

“No, wait, scratch that,” his voice was rising in anger. “Is that why you ghosted me and blocked me on everything so I couldn’t reach out to you?”

You had always known Ran Haitani to wear his signature smirk; no matter if he was beating people up, stealing food from convenience stores or even bashing up boys taller than him with his baton; that same infuriating smile never faltered.

Until now.

Only you boasted the power to make the ever smug Ran Haitani drop his impassive facade to reveal a deep scowl. The words you practiced to explain to him all that had transpired in the past five years today seemed to elude you.

You could not reply to his interrogative questions and Ran sighed, cutting to the heart of things. “Why are you here?”

You bristled at his tone and glared towards the city view, involuntarily annoying him with your shifty reply and inability to tell him the truth.

“To enjoy the night sky.”

“No, fuck,” he gritted out and you held your breath. “Why are you really here, Y/N?”

A tremble of uncertainty passed between the both of you.

Fuck it. I'll just ask to see what his reaction is.

“I need a favour.”

Silence descended between both your tense forms. You had no idea what he was thinking or what his sudden loss of words entailed. All you sensed was that it didn’t bring you any good news.

But inwardly, you understood the gravity of what you were doing.

Picture this: you had a woman you swore to protect, to stay true to her because you both were madly in love with each other and one day, seemingly for no reason, she disappears and doesn’t pick up her phone or even answer her messages. What would you have done?

You knew, in the deepest pits of your conscience, that you were shameless; that you were nothing but a cold-hearted and calculating bitch for badgering a wounded man from your past for help when it was all your fault you turned out this way.

“A favour, eh?” He put out his cigarette and stared at you unblinkingly. “I'll give you a chance to ask it when you answer me this: How did a nice girl like you end up working the streets?"

You frowned at the accusatory tone he wore and glanced back down at your twined hands. “I…”

Your ex-boyfriend’s words were cutting you right down to the bone and you fought back the urge to cry. If it had been five long years Ran spent searching for a woman who had already lost herself, so what did he expect to find?

That you were the same girl who used to sing oldies in the middle of your shared kitchen wearing nothing but his shirt? Or, that you could coo over his wounds and patch them up, scolding him lightly to prioritise his safety?

No. That Y/N died the day you found your father in a pool of his own blood.

“I changed, Haitani.”

It seemed that Ran did not believe you. “Sure you did.”

Finally, you divulged the piece that was lingering in your mind, the final one that would give a full picture of the puzzle as to what happened in all those years you cut off contact with him.

“You would, too, if your father was murdered.”

A stifling quiet. “Huh?” Ran’s lilac eyes were piercing and all but shining with grim curiosity. “What happened?”

This was it. The final piece of the jigsaw puzzle you kept hidden from him; the pièce de résistance of how you ended up from being a good, hardworking girl to a scummy bedwarmer.

“I came back home one day after class and… our house had been broken into. H-he was in the kitchen—“ you spared the gory details and he did not press you for it. Instead, Ran lit one cigarette and passed it to you. You accepted it and breathed in the nicotine like it was fresh air, hoping that it would clear your mind.

“I'm sorry,” he said gruffly and followed your gaze towards Tokyo unfurling before your feet. You did not accept his apology, tears glimmering in your eyes from the unsuspecting pain still lingering in your soul. How you still were not over your father's death despite the years that had passed you by.

“But what I don’t get is why didn’t you tell me?”

If you could compare Ran’s anger to a flame, it would be a slow flickering light over a vat of gasoline. Sure, he was the most trigger happy brother, but he did it out of the genuine thrill of taking down his enemies—because certainty of what was black and white was always his constant companion. And in this instance, Ran did not know who was a friend or who was a foe.

“You fucking disappeared into thin air, Y/N.” A heavy disquiet fell over the both of you. “I searched for you, y’know? Thinking that it was a mistake; that you didn’t mean to leave. I wanted answers but the more I searched and dug up shit I realised something… maybe some answers just don’t want to be found.”

You took another drag of the cigarette, trying to keep the tremble out from your tone and hide your wet eyes by keeping your gaze off him. “I didn’t do it out of spite, Ran.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

That lachrymose needing to burst out into tears would not survive the truth. “I can’t answer that for now.”

Ran’s grip tightened around his glass. “So you think you can waltz in here, demanding to see me and I would give you everything you need? Stop the whole world for you again like how I used to?”

Anger flared through your chest, hot and insistent.

“Fuck—I’m not asking you to save me, Haitani! I’m just… I just wanna know…” your voice fell into a whisper and so did your hope. “I just wanna know who killed my dad and why... why’d they have to do it.”

You would have thought he would be more sympathetic, and not say, “He wasn’t a good man, Y/N. I know this because if he was, he wouldn’t have gone out that way.”

Part of you couldn’t believe he had said that, but this was Ran Haitani you were talking about; a man of rationalism and bruteness. His occupational hazard was leaving men like your poor father in that state. You pressed on.

“That’s why I needed to see you. To ask if you knew something.”

Those usual sleepy lilac eyes turned hardy like stone. “No.”

You could barely believe he was doing this, the anger coating the back of your throat. The city’s lights wavered in your periphery from your tears of desperation.

“W-what? What do you mean 'no'?”

He stood up, and people were glancing at the both of you; the crestfallen look on your face and the disproving one on his indicative of an argument. If you were in the right frame of mind, your cheeks would've warmed from how the both of you were causing a scene.

“I don’t know anything. Sorry. Can’t help you.”

Before you could hammer in your plea, he took his jacket off the chair and slung it over his arm, unable to even look at you.

“Wait—please!”

You stood up and rushed to his side, gripping his sleeve. A few women gasped at your audacity. It appeared you were gathering an even bigger audience from your stupid stunt—even the waiters carrying drinks and food paused in their tracks.

Ran ignored each of them and coolly glanced down at you with those infuriatingly beautiful eyes. He tugged his arm away and sneered down at your betrayed expression.

“Y/N, this isn’t something you want to get into.”

You grasped onto that little glimmer of truth he had unwillingly divulged, the wobble in your lower lip unmistakable.

“So, you do know something. You know who could have done this.”

Apparently, he registered his slip-up and he turned his face to glare at the ground, a mirthless chuckle leaving his lips. “I told you. I’m clueless.”

“Stop fucking treating me like a child, Ran!” Your outburst caught even you off guard and the air suddenly became stifling, despite the open sky staring down at your fury.

“You’ve always been like this! Y/N don’t do this or Y/N stop that like I’m some kind of—helpless child. I’m not, Haitani. I’ve seen shit." You were beyond desperate, trying to convince him to tell you the truth by giving up parts of your gory life for him to review.

"I’ve seen a man get shot where he stood, police dragging out mutilated bodies of the girls I work with from dumpsters—so many fucked up things. You don’t get to tell me that I can’t even know the truth when I... when I became like this just to find it!”

He did not entertain your callous words, lips pressed in a tight line.

"Sorry." At least he gave you the courtesy of a final apology before turning around to walk away.

“Haitani—“

You ran after him and gripped his arm, refusing to let him go.

In your mind, the images of your father's mangled body flashed, exacerbating your exasperation.

“Fuck!” he snarled, wrenching his arm away and staring down at you with such a virulent expression, you were almost scared if you didn't know that Ran Haitani was physically incapable of hurting you. “I’ll say this one last time, Y/N—drop this now before it’s too late.” The tension swirled around both your taut figures, taunting you with the urge to lean in and bridge the gap.

Unadulterated stubbornness clashed with the sudden gleam in his eye. You were close enough to smell the whiskey and nicotine on his breath.

Your baser instincts took over, your body trying to convince him in a way your words could not.

“Y/N—mmph.”

Your lips collided with his, hands clawed to the front of his shirt, pulling him in deeper. It wasn’t a seduction as it was a last desperate pitch to get him to listen—and the only way Ran would ever listen to you was when he was quiet. He drew you closer, one hand around your neck and the other on the small of your back. The air in the bar got thicker and you wrapped your arms around his neck, drinking the familiarity of his solid body pressed to yours. He pulled back slightly, lips swollen and shook his head, a lazy and exasperated smirk worming its way across those delectable lips.

“You’re so infuriating.” As he spoke, he found your zipper, dragging it down and you squeaked, darting your eyes towards the group of spectators who were all but gawking. Ran was brazen, but he wouldn’t be as bold to fuck you in front of a bunch of people… right?

Ran followed your line of sight and clicked his tongue, understanding your silent mortification.

“Fuck off! The bar’s closed!” he called over the easy music. As if he were a king decreeing his rigid word, the bouncers ushered the patrons away from the balcony, the lights dimmed low and even the employees were forced to leave the premises. The head guard bowed to him, closing the doors with a resolute click. Just from his bidding alone, the both of you were left alone.

Suddenly, all your bravery had dried up and you glanced down at his broad chest, unable to meet his eyes.

“Not so bold now, huh, princess?” he drawled and like a cat toying with a mouse, he cornered you against the balustrade with both arms caged around your body.

It was too quiet, the air too thick with electricity. You swallowed hard and looked up into those eyes you had found solace in so many times before your world was turned on its head. There was no denying it—you missed him with every fiber of your body and the beat of lust that had ignited from his lips on yours roared into a fire that threatened to incinerate the rest of your self-control.

“We’re alone now,” he murmured, running his nose down your neck, inhaling your light scent. “Was this your plan all along?”

“No,” the quake in your voice seemed like you were lying.

“You know I don’t like liars, Y/N,” he said, voice gravelly and deep, causing shivers to run down your spine. He was far too close, his indulgent scent of coffee, musk and tobacco was seeping into your every pore; you could not stop yourself from pitching forward and pressing your face to his neck to hide the wobble in your lower lip.

Ran sighed and irritably flicked his jacket onto the floor, the material making a heavy thud sound.

The press of his warm palms on the small of your back deteriorated the last of your hesitation.

“Ran…” you licked your dry lips, finding a shred of courage to look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Want it.”

“Want what?” His purring deep tone made your knees weak. If it weren’t for the cool stone and his arms around you, you would’ve melted onto the ground to join his pristine jacket.

Lower lip trembling and thighs clenching, you whispered, “I want you.”

Ran’s reaction was instantaneous. He picked you up by your thighs and placed you onto the balustrade where a ten-floor drop yawned below you. Squeaking in fear, you involuntarily wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his chest again.

“Ran—!”

“Don’t worry, baby,” he moaned, kissing down your neck. “Ain’t gonna drop you.”

Those hot stamps in the shape of his lips were messing with your resolve and you groaned, head was thrown back, only the steel ropes of his arms and your thighs tensing around his waist anchoring you to safety. If you were a ship besieged in the middle of the storm, Ran was the roiling sea under you, ready to suck you into his depths.

“Someone can see us,” you hissed, knowing full well that if any passersby looked up, they would catch sight of two lovers on the balcony. He hummed, shaking his head with that shit-eating grin still etched across his lips.

“Baby, Rin and I own this bar. They ain’t seeing anything. ‘Sides, if they open their mouths, they won’t live to tell the tale.”

The wind whipped through your hair, stinging your eyes and you squeezed them closed, tilting your head back once he reached the valley of your breasts. Growling like a lion who had been held too long in captivity, he tugged the stretchy fabric down, exposing the lacy bra you wore to his heated stare.

“Shit,” he swore and planted more of those pussy-clenching kisses down the length of your throat.

“Ran,” you mewled, the heel of your boots digging into his lower back. Lost in his touch, you almost didn’t feel him tip you back, and you screamed once you felt the near loss of gravity, wildly scrambling to bury your white-knuckled grip in the back of his vest and hair.

“Ran!”

He secured his arms tighter around your waist, chuckling lowly into your ear. “Look at you—such a filthy little slut who wants my cock so badly she doesn’t care if she’ll fall.”

Rather than cowering in fear, his words served to heighten your arousal and you humped your drooling core across his cloth-covered bulge, trying your best to get as much friction as you could onto your aching pussy. “Oh, please,” you whimpered, pawing at his tie, removing it swiftly and throwing it down onto the cobblestone floor. Panting lightly, you managed to mutter, “N-need this.”

You hastily unbuttoned his vest to expose the crisp white dress-shirt he wore, making quick work of the first three buttons. Your mouth chartered a path from his chin to his neck, sloppily working in kisses mingled with frantic sucks of his skin, leaving reddened spots close to his gang tattoo. Trembling fingers touched the design, remembering the first day he came back home to eagerly show you the press of ink in his skin. 

We’re gonna be rich, baby.

The both of you had seemed so young back then and a part of you ached for an innocence that was gone too soon.

His low groans resonated in your ear and you squeaked again when he used one arm to hold you fast to his chest while the other wormed its way under the hem of your dress, feeling for your panties. Catching two nimble fingers on the seat of the flimsy material, you felt him twist it and before you could stop him—

Riiiip.

As if your panties were nothing more than a sugar in hot water, they disintegrated into lacy tatters on the floor.

“Those were my favourite pair,” you moaned when he returned the favour and bit down on the delicate skin behind your ear.

“Fuck—will get you new ones,” he breathed heavily, tongue tracing the shell of your sensitive lobe. “I'll get you a whole wardrobe of lacy, naughty things. You want that?”

You murmured something that sounded like yes Daddy and he grinned, already loving how easily you slipped into your submissiveness. If there was one thing Ran loved more than anything in the world, it would be to bend you over anywhere he wished—over his knee, the head of the couch, even pressing you onto the hood of his car—and take you then and there. You were always such a pliant, sweet, little thing for him, and it made his blood boil to think of how much you had denied him in these past five years.

Rough hands tugged down the cups of your lacy bra, palming the plush flesh of your breasts. “Missed these fucking tits,” he muttered lewdly and before you could chastise him, he bent his head forward, almost tilting you at a dangerous angle just to latch his mouth onto your nipple. Your heart was beating wildly, your hair flowing freely in the wind. Every stroke of his tongue on your tender buds made you moan wantonly, and all you could do was stare at that angelic face and sinful mouth working one turgid nub and then another with that maddening tongue, your nipples soon shiny with spit.

In the half-dark, the sharp points were silhouetted against the city lights obscenely. A soft hum indicated he was pleased with his handy work.

He tugged you closer to his chest and attacked your mouth, numbing your complaints with those maddening kisses. Ran held your bottom lip open with that same hand that ripped your panties and a globe of spit left his mouth and dripped onto your waiting tongue. The instruction was implicit: Swallow. You did, an obedient plaything to his wills.

“Bet you liked that, don’t you, you little slut?” he crooned and your cheeks flushed, your hand moving down to cup the front of his slacks.

“Stop teasing,” you huffed and he grinned widely.

His free hand wandered down your thigh, finding your bare pussy, gently rubbing your already soaked lips.

“Ran—!”

He sensed your hesitance to accept his ministrations when your body tensed and he pressed his forehead to yours, lilac locks tickling the bridge of your nose.

“Give in fully to me, baby.”

You didn’t answer him, on a high from how he was tracing your folds, the gentle way he dipped his index finger teasingly into your clenching hole.

“Mm, your pussy seems to want this,” in a firm but silky tone, “I know you want this.”

You did not have to answer him; your arched back and the ripple of your walls around his intrusive finger more than gave him enough of an answer. “Gonna make up for not fucking you in those five years.”

You were close to a delirious fever pitch, needing him to finally fuck you. “Ran, more—please.”

“Already begging?” He slipped another finger in, instantly finding your sweet spot and pressing down on it. Hard. “Hmm, so eager.”

You jolted as if you were touched by a live wire. “Want you!” In a softer, supplicant tone you whined, “Need you—please.”

Ran could not say no, especially when you begged so nicely. He unbuttoned his slacks and slipped his hard length out, the familiar curve, veins and head making you almost salivate with joy. In one swift thrust, he sheathed himself into your heat, the both of you moaning with relief.

He swore that you looked like a fallen angel in that moment; your flushed cheeks, wide eyes, bare tits that jiggle with every slam of his pelvis into yours, getting him to almost believe in God.

Almost.

Your eyes were closed, head lolling back and he sensed that if he let you go and you fell to your demise, you would probably die with a satisfied grin on your face. But, of course, he wouldn’t do it—Ran Haitani would be a fool to let his favorite plaything go.

“My cock got you drunk, baby?” That low, rasping voice gave you goosebumps and all you could do was mewl, hands tangling with his lilac locks, your desperate gaze pinning him to the spot with begrudging awe. Years of knowing every dip, divot and curve on your body made him keenly aware of the cues you would give off—his most favorite green light in the world, one that signaled you were close to a release.

“You gonna cum for me like this?” One hand found your clit, strumming it in time with his clean thrusts. “Gonna cream all over my cock in front of the whole city?”

“M’gonna—“ Cut off by a choking moan, all you could do was squeeze your eyes tight, only able to take this ride of your life.

The sloppy meeting of his cock in your silken walls mingled with both your harsh breathing and Ran felt that telltale stir in his balls that he was going to fucking blow his load and all you could do was take it. He didn’t care if you weren’t on birth control or if this was what you did with the filthy men that you picked up on the streets; in this instance, your pussy was his, and he would show that pretty little cunt that he alone was her master.

“Yeah? Do it.” He goaded as his thumb rubbed frantic circles on your engorged and sensitive nub. “Fucking cum for me, princess.”

You jerked in his grip like a puppet strung too tightly and lost all restraint and shame, tossing your head back with a scream of his name, the sight so fucking magnificent in the haze of the flickering lights behind you that Ran thought himself to be in love again.

Every muscle in your body seized and his most favorite ones—the walls of your pussy—practically milked him dry. Ran was not even the least bit disgruntled that he was panting like a bitch in heat, fucking the last of his cum deep into your cervix.

The both of you took a second to just breathe.

Thank fuck for the open air—the smell of sex was sure to permeate every pore of his body, just like that tantalising vanilla perfume you wore.

Ran was gentle when he brought you back to your feet, toeing the scraps of what used to be your panties into a corner. Memories of how clingy you could be after every round of sex burned through his mind and he halfway expected you to cling onto him like a sleepy koala. That assumption was dashed when you stepped away from him, tucking your tits back into your bra and lifting the straps back in place.

Despite his silent disappointment, he helped you straighten the hem of your dress and you reached out to button back his vest; a team effort at getting decent once more.

Ran sat back down onto the plush chair, and this time, you sank into his lap, uncapping the bottle of whiskey and pouring a fresh glass.

You passed him the amber liquid and he took it from you with a nod.

“You alright?”

Sheepishly, you picked up his cigarettes and lighter, taking a moment to spark the flame before touching it to the butt of your white stick, the dancing flicker imprinted in the back of his eyelids whenever he blinked.

“Yeah.”

He drank and you smoked. Ran didn’t care that his seed was seeping out and staining his slacks, nor did he care that a bit of your ash fell onto his leg. He merely brushed it aside, wishing he had the courage to mimic that same motion with a stray piece of hair kissing your forehead.

“Usually I’d charge you a hundred an hour, y’know.”

Humour. You always used a joke to deflect the seriousness of a situation.

“Tell me about your life on the streets.” It wasn’t a request, and you could hear the steel under his soft tone, this one attempt to fill in the blanks of your new life something he found himself immensely curious on.

“It’s good money,” you sighed, and took another drag, the smoke unfurling past your kiss-swollen lips. “I live just by Roppongi with another hooker. She was the one who made this lifestyle sound so glamorous.”

In a softer tone, you held a faraway look in your gaze that was trailing across the city line. “The first time I did it, I sobbed like a baby afterwards. Felt dirty. But, you eventually get used to it—the leers, the pawing. I always made them wear rubber, though, so you don’t have to worry.”

He tightened his grip on the glass and swallowed down his disapproval with another mouthful of liquor. This is not you, Y/N.

You gave him a small smile and Ran bit back the urge to taste the nicotine off your tongue. “You’re the first guy I’ve ever let raw me in a long time. Well technically, you’re still the first guy.”

He tried not to let his surprise show, preferring to huff a silent laugh. A memory of you, five years younger, head on his chest and a sleepy confession passing your lips, flashed through his mind. I know this is my first time and all… but holy shit—you blew my brains out, Haitani.

Ran sat down the glass and wrapped his arms around you, perching his pointed chin on your shoulder. “I usually don’t help hookers… but I’ll make an exception for ya.”

You stubbed out the cig onto the stone wall, dusting the ash from your fingers. “Don’t pull my leg.”

Stubborn bitch.

“Nah. I’m serious,” he said, grin growing wider at the surprise settling onto your features. “I’ll see what I can find.”

He nudged you off his lap and picked up his jacket, shaking the dirt off from the expensive material. From his pocket, he procured a stiff card. “Here’s my number. Call me if you need anything.”

You turned the square in your fingers like it was a rare diamond you were studying, eyes shining. He was about to leave you alone with your thoughts when a soft call of his name punctured through the night like the clicking of a gun.

“Ran?”

The tall, Bonten executive swiveled back to face you, and he almost wished he didn’t. If he thought you were gorgeous in the throes in your orgasm, it was nothing compared to how you were looking at him now.

Swallowing back against the panic rising in his chest, he fixed you with a neutral gaze. “Hmm?”

Your answering smile was almost tender. “Thank you.”

He swore his heart skipped a beat.

And in that instance, a single, shred of doubt blossomed in his mind as he mulled over on the thought that if helping you was the right thing to do.

“Alright, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

The stench of blood was thick in his nose, but Ran never took his eyes off the rivulets of red streaming into the man’s mouth. They had found him by the wharf and kidnapped him at gunpoint, bringing him down to Sanzu’s secret hideout to keep wandering eyes and ears from telling on them to Mikey. They were already in the midst of evading a drug bust and the leader of Bonten did not need this side quest to clutter his already burdened plate.

Ran had sworn them all to secrecy and here they were; Sanzu probably somewhere getting high off his fucking mind and Rindou beside him, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up and cracking his knuckles for another round.

“Wait, no—argh!”

Like breaking a biscuit in half, Rindou dislocated the man’s other finger joint, his other four twitching helplessly in abject agony. If there was one person he could trust to torture someone without spilling blood, it would his younger brother. The man spat out a globe of red and whimpered.

Well… maybe a tiny bit of blood had to be involved.

Ran’s voice was low and grim. “Answer, now. Name, location, or description.”

“I can’t tell you,” the bald-headed man gasped and flinched when Rindou bore down on him again. “Please! He’ll kill me if he finds out.”

The younger but no less feared Haitani brother wrapped two fingers around the underling's thumb. “Say, do you know what happens when you break someone’s thumb? Unlike the index or middle finger, it doesn’t heal. You know that? The ligament here—” he pressed the soft skin between the man’s index and thumb hard, his choked screams echoing across the decrepit walls. “—is all but paralysed if someone’s thumb snaps.”

Rindou shrugged and Ran had to bite back a laugh at how terrified the man looked. “Gonna be hard to explain to your boss how you can’t even shoot a Glock if you got no thumbs, huh? What are they gonna do to you—make you hold their cigarettes instead with your wrists? Kinda pathetic if you ask me.”

“No, please—”

“Last chance,” Rindou intoned in his usual bored fashion. “Name, location or description.”

The man threw his head back, his bound hands twitching, his thumb ransomed in Rindou’s unyielding grip. Eventually, he decided that the fate of his ligaments must’ve been more important; if this asshole was on his team, Ran would have shot him between the eyes with no hesitation at how easily he gave up his leader’s name.

“Kisaki Tetta.”

Fuck!

The two brothers shared a glance. You wanna do this? Rindou asked silently through a raised brow. Ran shrugged, as if to say, looks like we gotta do it, man.

Before the man could exhale in relief that his thumb was safe, Ran whipped out his gun and shot him point blank in the head. Warm flecks of blood and brain like the bursting of an overripe fruit splattered across his and Rindou’s faces. The shot echoed across the walls, the shell clattering onto the ground. The smell of smoke and blood hung in the air and Ran grunted, striding angrily towards the entrance of the warehouse, fumbling for his lighter.

“You really wanna do this?” Rindou easily caught up with his older brother, strings of blood caught in his purple mullet. He looked in a desperate need of a shower.

“I promised her, Rin.”

The younger Haitani resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Behind him, he heard Sanzu’s maniacal laughter and no doubt his superior would make sure that still-warm body would find its way down into the depths of the river; that man’s name, history and legacy wiped away together with the current. Despite his position, Bonten’s number two found extreme pleasure in cleaning up after the goriest of scenes and who was Ran to deny him his fun?

“Yeah, but she dumped you last time. You passed that?”

Ran leaned against his McLaren, a twin model of Rindou’s car but in jet black rather than muted silver. “You said it yourself—it’s all in the past.”

Rindou stole a white stick from his brother and stuck it between his teeth, grunting. “I really hope you know what you’re getting into. Kisaki’s gonna be a bitch to get through.”

Ran inhaled the curls of smoke in a rendition of a sigh. “It’s not impossible.”

“All for her, huh?”

The older Haitani narrowed his eyes and Rindou sensed when to back off. The story of his brother and his ex-girlfriend was one that he didn't have the full facts to. All he knew was that you upped and left one day and never reached out to Ran again.

Rindou snorted inwardly. As much as it hurt Ran’s ego to be left before he could do the leaving, he could see how his brother was clearly still in love with you.

Poor bastard.

“No. Her dad was a good man. I don’t know what shit he got himself in with Kisaki of all people but it wouldn’t hurt to find out more.”

Rindou stared off into the harbor, inhaling his next drag deeply. “Why?”

He had expected Ran to snort or brush him off when any mention of emotion was brought into the ring. Not to look at him with burning eyes and a hopeless sneer.

“The look on her face, man. It was like… like she didn’t have a will to live anymore. Not until she was telling me about him. Fuck, I mean… I gotta at least try.”

As much as Rindou was itching to knock some sense back into his brother, he thought about you and how you were like a rock to him all those years ago.

Once upon a time, Rindou was pretty sure that Ran was going to marry you; Bonten was a second priority to him, the first being the only woman the older Haitani had ever loved. The day you left was the day the last shred of Ran's humanity died.

After that, his brother was never the same again.

“Fuck—fine. But only because I’m actually related to you. If it was anyone else I would’ve left your ass out in the cold.”

A shadow of that lovesick grin that had been missing these past five years tugged on the corners of his lips, eliciting a sudden surge of nostalgia in the younger Haitani's chest.

“Thanks, Rin.”

Rindou rolled his eyes and stamped out his cigarette with the tip of his shoe.

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off.”

“So, you’re the flavour of the month.”

You turned towards the unexpected, smug voice and found a young woman with red-painted lips sneering at you.

The same bossa nova music tinkled in the background and you tightened your denim jacket around your shoulders to ward off the frostiness of her forced smile.

“Excuse me?”

“Ran Haitani—you’re trying to land him.”

That glint in her eye was familiar. This woman was jealous and rather than lashing out at your ex-boyfriend, she was egging you on. Must’ve been an ex-fling, by the looks of it. You snorted inwardly. Unlucky bitch.

“No, I’m not trying to land him at all,” you retorted mildly and resisted the urge to flip her off. “I’m just using him for sex.”

A low chuckle broke through the tension and your eyes widened at another face from your past. Sleepy lilac eyes, a languid smile and a shaggy mullet the same hue as his brother’s locks. Rindou Haitani stood before you right in the flesh.

“Damn. Good to see you still have that mouth on you, Y/N.”

You threw one last glare at that woman who had scampered away the moment a Haitani was nearby and rolled your eyes. A playful smile teased your lips; you always had a good relationship with Rindou, and though he was a year younger than you, he didn’t find the need for formalities and you admired him for that.

After all, keeping up pretenses could be exhausting.

“Nice to meet you again, Rin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved off your grin with a lazy one of his own. “Cmon, Ran’s up at the deck. Heard things got a little… heated there.” He let you hit his shoulder just like old times and you chuckled at his audacity. Like older brother, like younger brother.

“Shut up, Haitani.”

He wrapped an arm around you in a familial way. “Grumpy ass bitch.”

Rindou dropped his arm the moment Ran came into view. The deck was once more empty, the patrons forbidden from entering this space now that the two owners were here and wanted their privacy.

Ran’s lilac eyes roamed across your features and he shot you a grin. “Hey. We got the info you’re searching for.”

Your heart sped up and you sank down on the plush chair where Rindou had gathered, hands laced over your lap. “You did?” Ran nodded and sat next to you, the heat of his body radiating comfort despite the tension, and if Rindou’s eyes were not on the both of you, you would have laid your head on his shoulder, if not just to feel its broad strength underneath your cheek.

“Kisaki was the one who ordered your father’s death.”

That name was unfamiliar to you; none of the other girls you worked with who serviced gang members had ever mentioned a Kisaki. Ran sensed your palpable confusion. “He runs a new organisation—Valhalla 2.0. It used to be one of the top delinquent groups years ago, together with Toman. He’s been trying to revive it back to its glory days.”

Your silence perturbed both brothers though they did not show it. They’ve both been trained for the longest of time in the art of observation to determine someone’s next move and from the look on your face, it seemed that you were steeling yourself for a hard decision. However, they didn't expect what you would say next.

“I guess I’ll have to infiltrate it.”

“It won’t be easy,” Rindou said after a moment of silence, leaning back against the chair, an edge in his dark gaze.

“You’ll have to be trained,” Ran supplied.

Another twist of your hands. “I never thought it would be. But I’ll do it—for him.” Rindou must’ve known who you were referring to, most likely hearing it from Ran, as he did not ask any further questions.

Ran was more cautious of the two brothers. “You’re gonna do this on your own?”

“I have to,” you bowed your head towards both brothers so they couldn’t see the tears coruscating in your eyes. “Thank you for your help. I am indebted to you both.” Sensing that your short time together with them was up, you stood up and meant to walk away. This was all the help you would ask from them—you couldn’t expect anything more.

Any bit of intelligence in the underground world that all three of you belonged to came with a harsh price, and you had no doubt as to how the brothers had to dirty their hands to get you this information. The last thing you wanted was to overstep on their kindness.

“Wait.”

You paused.

It was Ran who asked, “How’d you like a spot in Bonten?”

Heart in your throat, you almost thought you were hallucinating from the heights and the smoke. “Bonten?” you repeated slowly.

Ran nodded, flashing you a small smile, one that reminded you of the same sheepish grin he wore whenever he bought you your favourite flowers. “We’ll train you up, get you an entry point and then you’ll strike. Sounds fair?”

This was more than fair; Ran was literally handing you your revenge on a silver platter and you would be a fool to deny this offer.

“Deal.”

Later when you had gone back to Roppongi and it was just the two brothers and their closing bar, Rindou broached the topic with him. “So, you’re just gonna Rescue Armour your little girlfriend like Pepper Potts so she can do your dirty work?”

Ran tore his eyes away from the skyline and snorted.

“She’s not my girlfriend. And second of all, who still watches Marvel movies?”

Rindou sensed it would be useless to fight with his brother once his mind was made up and he only hoped that Mikey would turn a blind eye to this. 

Who knows? Perhaps once you infiltrated Valhalla and brought Kisaki down to the dirt where he belonged, Mikey might give them both a big enough raise to open another bar; this time one in the heart of the district they grew up in.

“Apparently not losers like you.”

Ran snorted and touched his suit pocket where his trusty baton was, much to his younger brother’s annoyance. “How’d you like the taste of steel on your ass, Rin?”

“Ew. Save that kinky shit for your girl, man.”

“She’s not my girl.” Another weak denial. Fuck, Ran was getting shittier at lying day by day; Sanzu would be disappointed in him.

“And I’m the fucking Queen of England.”

“Fuck off.”

Yup. His brother was completely and utterly whipped for you. Rindou reached out to flick Ran’s forehead, a smirk replacing his usual languid smile.

“Simp.”

a/n. feedback and comments are appreciated. even though this is a reuploaded fic lmao

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

EEEEEEEEEEEE!

I LOVE THIS

creatur..mcmretaudes...cretaures....The half life

i havent posted here in forever enjoy this spring sycamore wip