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shoyoist · 1 year

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— 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐙𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐔 !! : baji keisuke.

content: fem!reader. college au. strangers to friends to lovers trope. baji is a delinquent, still. reader is implied to be rich and rather innocent. ~ fingering. spit. manhandling, slight breeding kink, mating press, raw sex, rough sex, praise.

word count: 4.6k

⠀⠀⠀⠀— . ｡˚ ♡ what happens when the sweet lil honors student decides to be nice and help the failing college student/delinquent out?

when baji makes it into college, it's by the slimmest fucking chance. he barely makes it. but baji's always been one to follow through with what he's set his eyes on doing — so by no means is he going to flunk out of college once he's got in.

he's struggling, though, and it's no help that most of the other students are a little wary of him. there’s nobody around that’s willing to lend him a hand. but that’s warranted, you suppose.

he is after all, a delinquent with a ton of street cred on his back, and has made a name for having a complete lack of hesitation to use his fists to make his way out of any given situation.

he looks it, too — and rumors are always strengthened by appearances.

he's got those wild, sharp eyes and that whetted smile, and he's a big guy. muscles showing through the thin shirts he shows up to classes in, his toned thighs and calves on display at the behest of the tight leather pants he always wears.

the chains and rings he wears, and the booming motorcycle he rides just makes his deadly image more refined — not to mention the fact that he's already picked more than a couple of fights on campus his first semester.

but you see how he tries so hard in class.

you've never spoken to baji keisuke in your life before — but today is the start of the fourth week in a row that you've walked into the library after class, to see baji sitting at one of the tables by himself, surrounded by books as he stares at a printed question sheet with a scowl on his face.

as an honors student, a soft spoken girl that takes her father's car to school every day, and dresses in pastels and skirts, you're the opposite of baji keisuke in every way. you're nervous, and unsure if he'd even listen to you, or just laugh your words off and render you unable to ever meet his eyes again.

but you do it anyway. you walk up to him where he's sitting at his usual table, and clear your throat. "baji?"

and when he looks up, features so sharp and rugged, the pen he's twirling in his hands so tiny compared to his large palm and fingers, your breath catches in your throat — but you speak up anyway. "hi. i'm from your class?" you say, giving him a smile.

"whaddya want?" he asks, after almost a full minute of looking you up and down. you feel nearly insecure as you stand there and wait, wondering if he doesn't like the look of your plaid sweater, your cute boots or your skirt.

you open your mouth to answer him, but he cuts you off — "you wanna hop on my dick or somethin'? because if so, scram."

"no!" you blurt out, feeling your face heat up in an instant. he raises a thick, questioning eyebrow at you then, and you stutter, trying to form your sentences back on your tongue after his embarrassing accusation. "i— i just wanted to know if you'd like some help!"

"huh?" baji grunts, putting his pen down. "what's that mean?"

"with your work!" you say, gesturing to all the books laid out on the table. "you know? i've seen you here a lot recently, working on your homework and stuff. so i just wanted to ask if you wanted some help."

"with my studies?" he asks, like he's still unsure. and when you nod, you see his eyes slowly light up — because even baji knows you’re one of the smartest students. "really? ya wanna tutor me?"

"not for money or anything." you quickly affirm, in case he lands another quip about how he doesn't have money to give you. "just ... as a classmate. as a friend. we could be study partners, if you like."

"study partners, huh." he muses, resting his chin on his fist as he thinks about it. then, he gives you a grin (that automatically makes your heart flutter, because god, you can't deny it — he's hot). "sure."

he pats the chair next to his, offering you a seat, and you take it.

hence, you started on your semester long journey of being baji's study partner, making fast friends with him and finding out that he's a sweet, funny guy alongside the rough, loud personality he's got.

your curiosity on why a gangster like him would try so hard in college, or wish to attend school at all, is satiated when eventually, he tells you about his domestic dreams of building a cozy little life for himself, opening up a pet shop, perhaps expanding it into a vet clinic if he can pass his course and get licensed.

baji’s ambitions are only strange to you for the first half of your time with him. the more you get to know him, the more you realize that his rugged, untamed appearance and personality is all just who he is on the surface level.

apart from how surprisingly cute he is when he’s learning, he's so nice to you — walks with you to class, offers to drive you on his bike to this really good coffee place he knows during breaks, brings you a little gift on your birthday — and by the end of the semester, you're sure you've about fallen in love with him.

and thankfully, with your help, his grades do go up.

he scores well enough that he manages to pass and secure his spot in college for another year — and though his achievement was not much compared to your top results, he's so happy about it.

"princess," he says (because he calls you princess now) as he flops onto the couch in your bedroom (because somewhere in the midst of the semester, you've also moved your regular study spot from the library to your house). "have i thanked ya properly for all your help yet?"

"what do you mean?" you ask, perched on the edge of your bed, watching him manspread, feeling proud when he shoots a satisfied glance towards the marksheet laying on the couch beside him.

"i mean," he sighs. "i gotta thank you, right? you're savin' my life here."

"by studying with you?" you giggle, and he meets your eyes with a lazy tilt of his head, watching as you smooth your skirt out over your knees. the early winter sun that pools into the room through the window is watery — but the light catches in his bright gaze anyway, increasing the intensity of his stare. "it's okay. you've bought me enough coffee over the days to pay me back, i think."

there's a moment of tense silence, before he gets up from the couch, and walks over to you.

when he stops only a foot away from your seat on the bed, and asks, "is the door locked, princess?" you feel a shiver crawl up your spine — but you nod, assuring him that the door is locked.

and with that, he climbs onto the bed on top of you, pushing you down onto your bed.

your heart jumps, as your back hits the mattress, his hands coming down to dig into the sheets on either side of your head, as he grips them to hold his weight over you.

"can i thank you?" he rasps after a second, voice soft — hovering over you with his lips only inches away from your own. your heart picks up pace, and your pulse hammers in your ears as you fight to keep eye contact with him. as you try to think of an answer.

and well, fuck, you never thought something like this would happen, when you first took pity on the delinquent in your class, and offered to help him with his studies.

you were just being nice — but as you’d just been thinking of a moment ago, over the course of the time you've known baji, you've found out that he's got so much more to him than his delinquent’s face.

you know he’s gentle with animals, that he works so very hard to be the best he can be, and that he's a loyal friend. you know he likes peyoung yakisoba, and that he secretly reads shoujo manga. you know he prefers your red hair ties over your pink ones. you know the most important thing to him is that his mother is happy (and you know what they say. a man who's good to his mother, will be good to his wife).

you really do like him. so you nod once more, but he sees the hesitation in your eyes, so he asks again. "is this really okay?"

you blink up at him, once or twice, before gathering the courage to ask. "baj— keisuke. do you like me?"

"i do." he replies without a beat missed, gaze bright as he locks it with yours. and just those two words cause your heart to warm up so many degrees, an instant shot of delight — but you ask again. "really?"

he licks his lips, seeming a little nervous, now, as he hovers over you. "really." he says. his heat spills into you through the minute distance between your bodies, as he collects the words onto his tongue. "i fuckin' love you, princess. never thought i'd be such a sap for someone, but i am. i like you, a lot. i want you."

it's strange — because although you love him, you've never thought he'd return your feelings.

you've always thought and decided that things would end as quickly and smoothly as they'd started. that you'd help him, and he'd receive your help, and that would be that. but now, the situation's changed. in an instant.

a little voice at the back of your head wonders that hey, maybe this is just the delinquent taking his chance with the unassuming, innocent little girl in his class — but you brush the thought aside. you’re not stupid. you know baji’s a good guy.

you swallow, throat going dry as you realize what will happen once you answer. "i like you too, keisuke. in fact, i think i'm in love with you, too."

baji laughs at that, an affectionate little heh, leaving his lungs before he takes in another breath. "can i kiss you, then?"

"you can do whatever you want." you say.

and instantly, he's kissing you.

it’s almost too quick, his tongue pushing hungrily past your lips and coiling with your own, searing and needy as his hands clutch your waist, crawling under your top to feel up your skin, soft and supple under his calloused grip.

a mewl falls from your lips when his fingers brush against your tits, and he moves his hand back to that spot, giving the soft flesh a squeeze and laughing when you gasp, your body rocking under his.

your own hands lift up, somewhat unsure, to palm at his muscled chest, tugging experimentally at the hem of his shirt. "take it off," he grunts, into your mouth. "hah, never been touched like this before, have you?"

"haven't." you mumble shyly, and baji's eyes glow dully when he hears it. he yanks the top off of you, and you feel vulnerable as you squirm on your bed, wearing nothing but your skirt and panties as he ravishes you with his eyes. "yeah? gonna show ya how good lil' things like you should be treated, then." he says, placing a hand on your thigh and feeling how you shiver at the touch.

he doesn't move it before you pull his t-shirt off for him, coaxing you to go ahead and do it, and allowing you to run your eyes over his muscled torso for a bit. then, his hand inches up your thigh as he kisses you again, fingers so large and thick as he makes his way between your legs. "so pretty f'me."

"mm," your face burns again, the same way it had the first time you ever spoke to him, and he'd asked you that embarrassing fucking question — but it's funny, since what he said is now about to come true. in a way. "y—you, too."

"aww, princess thinks i'm pretty?" he coos, and laughs harder when you cover your face with your hands, unable to meet his eyes as he teases you. "fuck, you're so cute. lettin' the gangster boy fuck you after you help him pass in school, eh?"

"i— this wasn't my intention." you whine, but baji cuts you off by pressing a thumb against your clothed clit — and it's even more embarrassing when your body automatically jolts, thighs closing around his arm as you flinch in reaction to the sudden stimulation. "yeah, but ya like how it's goin', mhm?" he grins, showing off those canines again, and fuck.

"i do," you breathe, as he keeps his thumb over your clit, rubbing little circles into it and making it throb. it's hard to focus when he's doing it, but then he leans in for more kisses, and you've never felt such sweet, yet rough warmth before in your life.

"i know you do." he says it into your mouth, before sliding your panties aside and easing a finger into your cunt. it feels hot, delicious even with just one damn finger, and you moan, the sensation so unexpectedly good. "see? all fuckin' wet 'n i didn't even do much yet."

"please," you kiss him again, curling your hands around his face. "want it already."

"tch, patience, baby." he clicks his tongue, letting just the one finger slide in and out of your slick pussy, and you know he's going to put two in next, and then three, stretching you out just right before he gives you his cock.

and for something you've never thought about much before, you need it so damn bad. with baji towering over you, body so muscled and toned and hands so hot and good, mouth so skilled at showering you with both kisses and praise, you need him like never before.

the chain on his ripped jeans jingles as he pushes his knee between your legs, opening them wider, before he whispers, just like you’d guessed, that he’s going to give you another finger. his free hand grips your fluffy blanket harder, putting more of his weight onto the mattress and making it creak a little. “move up a little, princess. give me some more room.”

so you get further back onto the bed, and he climbs on after you, letting his pants join his t-shirt on the side of the bed, with your own top — the bold black and grey colours so starkly contrasting your bedsheets as he casts it all aside.

“ya hear this pussy singin’ for me?” he chuckles, and the way your cunt gushes harder when he slips a third finger in is so good to him, your face flushing with humiliation, he can’t bother prepping you any further before he gives you his cock.

“she’s beggin’ to have me.” he taunts, loving the way you’re getting so shy and embarrassed, no matter what he does or says. “you do some begging, too, won’t ya? let me hear you.”

and you steel yourself, feeling so full with just his fingers in you, forcing your moans and gasps to be quieter as he curls them in and finds your sweet spots so easily. “want your cock, keisuke. please. need to be filled all up.” he stares at you, doe eyes and swollen lips so pretty as you’re spread out under him, and with a whispered fuck, he pulls his drooling cock out from where it’s been straining under his boxers this whole time.

“see that, princess?” he sighs, relief washing over him as he grips the thick length, allowing himself a few pumps with his fist. “this cock? ‘s all yours.”

baji’s fucking huge — as he grabs your wrist and guides your hand to touch him, you feel the hot, stiff length of him up, and you really don’t know how you’re going to take it.

but you will — oh, god, you will, because you haven’t even felt him yet but you know he’s going to send you to heaven with just his cock.

“want it,” you plead. “I’ll take it for you. if it’s all mine, then give it to me. please.”

“shit,” he groans, when you run your fingers softly down his cock and back up, smearing the precum collecting at his tip onto your fingers as you go. “for someone that hasn’t done any of this, you’re fuckin’ good with your words.”

“‘m a smart girl,” you give him a smile, and his lips are tugged into yet another grin when he sees it. “smart girls know what to say.”

“yeah, yeah you fuckin’ do.” he assures you, before he tugs the panties off you and throws them onto the floor behind, grabbing you by the back of your thighs and pushing them up, your skirt splaying out on your stomach as he folds you in half and reveals your glistening pussy to him.

“let’s keep this skirt on, yeah?” he asks, eyes on your cunt, on your little hole that he’s about to fill right up. “y’look pretty with it on.”

“anything.” you beg, eyes fluttering shut before you open them again, watching as baji’s hair falls in curtains around his face, his brows scrunching together as he frowns in focus, lining his cock up with your cunt. “just want you to fuck me.”

“alright, alright, baby.” he grunts, voice going heavier, as he finally pushes his cock in. first, it’s just the head — and you think the stretch is manageable, that you can take him well enough.

but then he rolls his hips, forces your cunt open and makes you take all of him in, and fuck.

“keisuke! no— no, not so much at once!” you cry, and he’s barely able to answer, with the way your pussy sucks him in so well despite your protest, warm and wet and so god damn tight.

“you’re fine,” he stutters, nails digging harshly into the plush skin of your thighs as he pushes himself balls deep into you, bending you further so your knees are pressed against your chest. “you’re just fine, princess, fuck. look at ya. pussy so pretty all stuffed.”

he stays still for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size, razor eyes going soft and almost dreamy as he feels your walls cling to him, so deliciously hot. when he nudges his tip to your cervix, you flutter around him, and he hisses, precum drooling into you furiously.

you whimper as the pain dissipates and blooms into saccharine pleasure, the rough grip he’s got on you and the thickness of his cock in your little cunt, together with the praise he’s showering you with — it’s enough to make you cum in almost one go.

“you got this,” he pants, pulling out just a little before he pushes in again, the wavy tousles of his hair bouncing lightly with every move. “your pussy’s fine.”

you open your mouth to reply, but no sound comes out, the moan catching in your throat and your eyes rolling back into your head as he finally starts moving. the messy squelching of your cunt with his thrusts would embarrass you, if he weren’t throwing stars into your vision with each slap of his pelvis against your clit. “k—keisuke!”

“shhh,” he exhales, gritting his teeth as he steadily increases his pace, building his way up to his own high. you’ll cum hard enough, even if he doesn’t try too hard, he knows — his cock is big, he knows how to fuck good, and you’re an inexperienced little thing.

a sweet, beautiful, inexperienced little thing.

he watches keenly, biting his lip as he goes back and forth, watching your pretty face, eyes wild with pleasure as you watch how his length sinks into you, and then out, and then back in again.

“c-can i,” he groans, waiting for you to look up and meet his eyes before he continues. “go faster, princess?”

“mhm!” you cry without hesitation despite yourself, so eager to please — so needy to have more, more, more.

and god, he's going to cum, he can feel it as he takes his pace even further — your little pussy's just too tight, too hot 'n wet, it's enough to send a man straight to seventh fucking heaven.

he knows already that you'll be fine even if he gets a little rougher than intended — he sees how your eyes are rolling back, how your sweet lips are stretching into a dopey, open-mouthed smile with each hard hit of his cock at your cervix.

you want it, want it all — you're innocent and pure but god you're a devilish little thing at heart.

he'd treat you nicely, be gentle and take things slow like how he'd planned to do at the start, but you want it so bad, he wants it so bad, and there's just no stopping it.

“open that mouth wider for me baby,” he rasps, and you do it instantly, making him laugh as he gathers a ball of saliva on his tongue and spits it out, watching with a heavy throb of his cock as it lands right on your cute, pink lil tongue. “swallow f'me? hah, atta girl~”

and with that, he gives you the first mean thrust of his cock into your cunt — the squelch of your cunt is loud, only second to your moan and third to the grunt baji can't help but let out, when he feels just how tight your pussy is gripping him.

“relax, princess,” he huffs, the muscled panes of his chest pressing against your tits as he buries himself as far inside you as he can go, before pulling back out and going back in again — filling your lovely little room with the lewdest sounds—

the slap-slap-slap of skin against skin, your fucked out whines with each roll of his hips, and the messy sounds of your pussy along with the breathy groans he's spilling into your ear; it's so, so fucking good.

you're stuffed, and as baji whispers hoarsely with his lips against your cheek that he's gonna cum, you moan again, telling him you're gonna cum too, and you don't know what you're begging for anymore but you beg, “please, please, please, please— mmph!”

and he's kissing you again, muscled body trapping you in place as he pounds into you relentlessly, now in short quick thrusts that offer your sweet, gummy spots another kind of kiss after kiss with his fat tip.

“let me cum in you, princess? can't — can't fuckin' pull out, 's too good,” he groans into your mouth, and fuck, you've never felt this good and this loved and this full before in your entire damn life.

“inside, kei, inside.” you agree, voice all high and breathless, your words falling right onto his tongue as they tangle together when he deepens the kiss. “want your cum in me, kei, please.”

and it's not the hug of your velvet walls around his cock, or the plush, warm feel of your pretty body under his, or the claw of your fingers at his back and his arms that undo him—

but it's the way your voice calls out his name so cutely, saying kei, as you ask him to breed you full, that makes him cum.

the band in his lower stomach tightens and then snaps — and with a low, ravenous growl into your mouth, he cums. “f—fuck.”

his cum is hot, thick, filling your pussy with white and coating his cock in a milky film as he keeps thrusting in and out of you, refusing to slow down even as your own orgasm washes over you and your tiny little cunt clenches even tighter around him, making it almost impossible for him to move.

“mmm, kei! fuck, cumming, fuck, fuck, so good!” you babble, tongue lolling out from your mouth that's parted in your effort to catch your breath, and he'd laugh, chide your language, but you feel so good he's been rendered speechless.

his own mouth is open in silent curses, breath catching in his throat as he fucks his cum deep into you, feeling how your pussy flutters obediently, eating it all right up.

he listens to your cries of pleasure, head falling onto your chest, his cheek squished against your tits as he breathes you in, basking in the hot bliss you're giving him as he smacks his hips into yours sloppily, such a wet mess forming between your bodies — your skirt is soaked.

“fuck, princess, i love ya,” he hisses, as you milk him through. “this pussy's mine and only mine, alright?”

“mhm,” you nod, and he grins, vision cloudy as he looks down at your pretty face. “all yours, kei.”

“can't take that back after ya said it, alright?” he breathes out, hot over your chest. “tell me ya love me, baby.”

“i love you,” you gasp, as he slows down, bringing his hips to a stop against yours and letting go of your thighs so you can tangle them around his waist again. “i love you so, so much, kei, you don't know.”

“hey,” he chuckles, getting pulled into you as he tries to give you a peck on the cheek. “i love you so much, m'kay?”

“no, i love you more.” you pout, and he nips at your bottom lip, teasing the tender flesh with his sharp teeth. “this ain't a competition, princess. i love you the most.”

“mmm,” you huff, knowing that you both should really get up and clean things up, if you're done — but he feels so nice, so warm and heavy and comforting on top of you, and you want to stay like this forever. “sure. i'll let that go, for now.”

baji only cackles fondly at that, giving your swollen lips a kiss and then another on your teary cheek, before laying back with a satiated sigh. “so what are we now? still just friends? study partners, even though you've effectively hopped on my dick now?”

you feel your face get hot at his words, giving his shoulder a gentle slap as you pout again. “no, what you are now is mine. all mine.”

and there's a little pause, before he lets out another chuckle. “bloody hell, you really do fuckin' know what to say.”

“of course.” you smile. “anyway, study sesh at your place tomorrow? same time?”

“hah, what fucking study sesh when the semester just closed, hm?” he grins, and your eyes twinkle as you reply — “mmm, i don't know. a study sesh like the one we just had, maybe.”

and his grin widens, canines flashing as he laughs. “can't say no to that, princess — you're on fire. and by the way, you're mine, too.”

“mhm.” you reach up, tangle your fingers in the thick, dark locks of his hair and pull him in for yet another kiss, smiling at how he shuts his eyes so cutely just before your lips meet. “i know ♡♡ .”

#₊˚ପ⊹ REKHA™.#₊˚ପ⊹ NYCHTA.#baji smut #baji keisuke smut #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tr smut #tr x reader #baji headcanons #baji drabbles #baji x you #baji x y/n #baji fluff #tokyo revengers drabbles #tokyo revengers headcanons

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yuuuhiii · 1 month

Text

reacting to marks you left

includes: tr boys reacting to marks you left the morning after your guys spicy time:3, 800 words, suggestive!, fluff, crack

𓂃 ken𝜗𝜚

Ken groans slapping his alarm off. He always hated Mondays, having to leave his warm bed with you in his warm embrace. With a little stretch, he glances down at you, softly smiling at his shirt draped over your sleeping form. He leans down and places a kiss on your head, causing you to stir. He leaves for the restroom and you’re stretching under the sheets. “Holy shit.” He says from the restroom. You rest on your elbows, still drowsy. “What happened.” You croak and you can hear him exiting the restroom. “You did a number on me.” He smirks, not fully putting on his shirt, the hickies you’ve sucked on his skin on full display. “Kenny!” You groan, falling against your sheets and covering your eyes. He laughs, walking over to you and prying your hands away. “Inupi and Shin are gonna ask about these, what should I say?” He teases and you groan again, sliding off the bed. “I’m gonna go cook breakfast, you meanie.” You stick your tongue out and he lands a playful smack to your ass. “I love you!” He yells as he returns to getting ready.

𓂃 takashi𝜗𝜚

The sunlight crept through the cracks of space through the curtains. Casting a soft glow on you and your lover. Takashi sighs, his eyes slowly adjusting to the now lit up room. He glances at you groggily and a huge smile is already etching on his face. You shift against his chest, your eyes slowly meeting his. “Morning beautiful.” He smiles, massaging his hand through your hair, almost making you purr. “Good morning.” You mumble trying to wiggle your way back to sleep into his bare chest. He smiles softly at you, pecking your forehead. “Woah.” He hears you say and glances down. “What?” He questions and you giggle to yourself. “Your neck is all marked up.” He looks confused for a moment but moves to grab his phone, swiping to the camera app. His eyes widen at the deep purple marks. “You got carried away didn’t you?” He tries to tease but you place kisses on his neck. “I can’t help myself around you.” He freezes and a blush litters his ears and neck. You laugh at his reaction and he smiles, holding you tighter against him. “I’ll give you some so we can match.” He says seductively and you squeal as he traps you underneath him.

𓂃 chifuyu𝜗𝜚

As you wake up, you realize the bed is cold and there’s no dip next to you. You immediately pout when you slap your hand around and don’t feel your boyfriend. “Fuyu!” You yell and he lets you know he’s in the restroom. You stumble towards him and he’s staring at himself in the mirror when you wrap your arms along his midsection. “Baji and Kazutora are for sure gonna say shit about this.” You feel Chifuyu heat up and you glance at the mirror. Several bites littered across his neck and chest. You blush as well. “Shit baby I’m sorry.” You pout and he smiles turning around and wrapping his hands around you. “I never said it was a problem. They’ll just say stuff like ‘Wow fuyu isn’t a virgin anymore!’ ” He says with a roll of his eyes and you laugh. “What I look like a virgin?” He raises his brows and you playfully nod. “Babe!” He whined and you erupt in laughter once again. “You just like degrading me you sadist.” “What! Who said that?!” Your voices ring out through the bathroom as you help him get ready for the day.

𓂃 keisuke𝜗𝜚

“Babe! Wake up!” You’re shaken awake by your boyfriend. His brows are furrowed as his silk-black hair frames his face. “What Kei?” You groan trying to swat his face away. “Ya need a cover these up. I gotta get to work.” He huffs, crossing his arms. He pulls down his untamed collar, giving you a full view of his neck. Bites and marks scattered on his collarbone and neck. “Why?” You sit up already feeling grumpy. “Why? Because I don’t want the guys asking what the hell this is.” He says and you roll your eyes, getting up. You grab his collar folding it and buttoning his shirt. “Maybe that girl will stop hitting on you if she sees them.” You pout and he smiles, his fangs peaking out. “Aw, ya know I don’t give a fuck about her.” He pecks your jaw, pulling you on his lap. “You better not!” You raise your brows and he turns your face towards him. He kisses you gently, a soft smile on both of your lips. “No concealer?” You whisper and he laughs. “No concealer.” With another peck, you pull away and watch your boyfriend get ready for work at the pet shop. Later that day he informs you that when that girl had come in she seemed annoyed at the marks that were plastered on your boyfriend’s neck.

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sunaluv · 1 year

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I need more “come get your man” posts👏 it doesn’t matter when but they give me life🗣️🗣️

ask and you shall receive

part 1 part 2

pairings: bokuto, baji, sakusa

BOKUTO

“me and kotaro would look good, no?”

the table consisting of you, your best friend, the girl and her best friend turned to look at the girl who hasn’t felt the need to hide her infatuation with your boyfriend.

“what are you talking about?” your best friend.

“i don’t know,” she twirled her locks around her finger, looking upwards in thought. “we’ve known each other nearly all our lives, i feel like it’s inevitable.”

again, silence.

“is that not your boyfriend talking to bokuto right now?”

the girl sighed. “i don’t care about him, after all i just settled. the one i really want is right there.”

you didn’t need to follow her finger to know where it was pointed. the sound of your boyfriends boisterous laughter reached your ears, such an opposing atmosphere to the one you were sat in right now.

‘at least one of us is enjoying ourselves’ you thought.

“he doesn’t think of you that way.”

the tension was suffocating as all three heads turned towards your stern scowl.

her eyes widened. “damn i kinda forgot you were his…” she waved her hand, refusing to acknowledge the fact that the man she wants has already been claimed. “when you’re done with him, send him my way yeah,”

whether the smirk on her face was joking or serious, you didn’t know and quite frankly didn’t care.

before you could retort, a loud voice called over to you. “baby, come here a sec!”

like a flipped switch, the loving smile oh so familiar to your kotaro made an appearance on your face as you left the table, itching to get as far away from the girl as possible.

she nervously watched as you engaged in conversation with your boyfriend and ‘what she settled for’. hands fiddled with themselves under the table as she watched you whisper something to the two, causing bokutos smile to drop, and her boyfriends eyes to harden in disbelief.

three pairs of eyes stared her down, one angry, one disappointed and one challenging.

there was no point in defending herself, she had already known you relayed her message on to her soon to be ex boyfriend, but what hurt more than being caught was the disappointed look that pierced her heart, the look coming straight from the man she loved.

BAJI

"hey girlie can i give you some advice real quick?"

you were dreading this. a small get-together with your boyfriend and his friends suddenly turned into a side eye fest when baji's self-proclaimed 'bestie' showed up. ever since the stern look over she gave you when she greeted you, you could tell she was bursting at the seams to give some 'girl to girl' advice on your outfit choice.

now that baji reluctantly left your side to hover in the kitchen, she made her move.

"i love your sense of fashion and stuff, you know how you just don't care what anyone thinks of your outfit, buttttttt i just wanted to let you know thank kei isn't into that stuff, he's more into the innocent barbie kinda look, d'ya get what I'm saying?"

you gave a once over at her outfit: oversized, pink sunglasses sat atop her dead straight blonde hair, she wore a bralette miniskirt two-piece with an oversized hoodie covering her arms.

not to stereotype, but she's describing herself. maybe not so much the innocence, but the barbie look described her for sure.

"he's also into blondes," she snapped her gum. " since we've been friends forever, i can tell you now all the girls he dated, or showed interest in were blonde. not to tell you to not be yourself or whatever..."

"maybe that's why he went for something different this time," you shrugged. "the ones before me didn't work out."

she played off her surprise with a laugh. "that would make sense yeah..." she tucked her hair behind her ear awkwardly, leaving awkward silence between you.

"why are you guys sitting in silence." keisuke made his presence known, holding two solo cups.

as he walked past, the girl leaned forward ready to thank your boyfriend for the drink, but he walked past her without looking back, making her shrink in embarrassment.

"for you, my lady." he bowed dramatically.

"you're so silly kei," you chuckled, pulling him into you. "hey do you like blondes?"

he almost got whiplash from your sudden change of topic. "i like what i like."

"and what do you like,"

"i like you... i guess"

"what do you mean 'you guess'" you jokingly mocked, hitting him lightly after setting your drink down.

"nothing, nothing" he chuckled, wrapping an arm around you. "why ask anyways?"

you subtly glanced at the girl who watched the whole interaction in silence, shooting her a smug smirk.

"no reason."

SAKUSA

"your boyfriends so good looking," a voice so quiet, you were sure you weren't meant to hear it.

you turned your head towards the manager's daughter who had the audacity.

she jolted at your hostility "did I say that out loud? whoops, I meant the guy next to him."

the practice match had now ended, and sakusa began to make his way towards you as the team now had their break.

"sakusa!" she waved him over, thrusting a bottle towards him. "good work out there, have a drink!"

"no thanks."

he walked passed her and straight towards you, taking the bottle you had brought with you from your shared home.

"would you like a towel?"

damn she was persistent

"no thanks" his voice remained the same. "i'd rather use things i can trust, from my own home."

she watched enviously as he took the towel from your hands, wiping the sweat from his chiselled face. not a word was spoken between you, but the warm and loving smiles and the faint blush covering his cheeks said enough.

"you know i can do so much more for you than she can," she started. "does it not make more sense to be with me? you literally play for my team."

though her words were sharp and precise, they didn't hit the intended target. your face held the same expression, save for the daring look you shot her, challenging her to continue.

before you could speak up to her, kiyoomi spoke.

"you know its better to date someone you love, right?" his mocking words took the same format she used. "and i don't play for you, i play for your father, and I'm sure he would love to hear about his bothersome daughter whose uncomfortable advances are messing with my play." he basically threatened.

if heartbreak had one expression, she would be wearing it. whether it was the way he declared he didn't love her or the way he used her trump card against her, her expression was firm, then slack, then firm again.

her open mouth twitched, debating on whether or not to try to win him back. 'to win his heart or to leave him be, to win his heart or to leave him be?'

'leave him be' she came to the conclusion.

smart girl.

though the tension lingered in the air, she did not speak for the remainder of the day, to you or kiyoomi at least.

"didn't know you had such a mouth on you, kiyo," you smirked, liking this new side of your boyfriend.

his big palm pressed to your face, pushing you away before you could see the way the red on his cheeks deepened.

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thvkei · 1 year

Text

baji loves when he can see himself inside you.

# tw // belly bulging, creampie.

"oh, fuck..." baji groans, hot breath pawing your features as he towers over your bare body. calloused fingers brush against your lower tummy, caressing the bulge which nestled prettily in your womb. "ya feel that, baby? so fuckin' deep inside you."

all you can do is nod quickly, muttering small 'uhuh's as you place your hand over his. he tries to shush any whines the best way he can—by smashing a sloppy and too-heavy kiss against your already tender and swollen lips, body bending down to claim every warbled noise tumbling forth from your mouth.

"pussy's suckin' me in... fuck, ease up, baby." baji groans, russet eyes scrunching in pleasure at the constant sensation of your squishy walls hugging him so tight. "y're killin' me here." he hisses before thrusting into you again, and you can feel his cock piston in and out of you as he continues his thrusts—the pleasure overwhelming your senses and making you cream around him.

despite how cruel it is, he can't stop. he won't—even as pathetic whines and whimpers continue to seep from your bruised lips as he pounds your drooling cunt until it's pulsing around him with a heartbeat of its own divinity.

the sight's too beautiful to pass up; he considers the mere thought a treason in itself. the arch of your little womb, so full and swollen with his love, disappearing and reappearing with every short, quick thrust of his strong hips. so no, he can't stop, not until you're spraying your juices all over his honeyed abdomen and clawing at his wrists, letting out clumsy yells of, 't'much, kei!!', and, 'c-cummin' again!!'

and he'd all but smirk, 'jus' one more, baby. feels so fuckin' good,' just moments before he creampies your tiny hole and stuffs you full of his babies until they're spilling out of you in thickly oozing pearly globs.

#⋆｡ °✩; tillie writes.#ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁; n.sfw #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #baji keisuke #baji x reader #baji x reader smut #tw belly bulge #baji smut #baji keisuke smut #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev headcanons #drabble #baji drabble #tr smut #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x you

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theanimeroom · 6 months

Note

No bc baji putting his hair up is a whole different breed like as soon as he puts it up I'm just spazzing out cutely bc of how fine he is

WHO LET HIM COOK?!

WHO LET THIS MAN BE SO FINE?!?!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

WHO LET THIS MAN COOK IS FUCKING RIGHT LIKE?????

let us discuss 💎 fine ass!baji keisuke who’s hair is too long for anyone’s good, even his own.

now the man has an immense love for his hair. like don’t ever ask him to cut it, because the answer is no. but although he loves his hair, he really fucking hates his hair. it gets in his face all the time when he’s doing literally anything, he has to get it trimmed every month to ensure that it stays healthy, and although he would never cut it, the mop on his head makes him want to rip it out with his bare hands on a daily basis.

aside from that though, the main reason he would never even consider cutting his hair was because of you.

you’d always talked about baji’s hair and how much it turned you on to see him put it up in a ponytail, especially when he was about to fight. you hated seeing the man getting violent with someone else, but you’d let him tussle as much as he wanted if it meant getting to watch his wrap the little elastic band around his hair, pulling it up and away from his face in hurried motions.

it was a beautiful sight, one for your ears and pussy alike. your favorite sight was when he was laid out between your legs, eyes watching you with a smirk as he grabbed the locks in two fistfuls, making it as neat as possible before typing the band around it, letting the bun sit where you could see it perfectly as he dove into his favorite meal.

this is becoming canon for me to say this but… he’d never clue you in on the fact that his favorite sight was when your head was thrown back in pleasure, desperate whimpers escaping you as you clawed at his head so much the band ended up falling out, your fingers immediately finding purchase in the locks, pulling tightly as the other band in your stomach unraveled within you.

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cheesus-doodles · 4 months

Text

Going Home: Chapter 4

Yandere Platonic Toman + Time Leaper Darling

Masterlist

‎

Going Home: Chapter 1 | 2 | 3

I kept my promise!! Editing tmr, I'm dead on my feet rn

The neighborhood that Takemichi and Naoto found themselves in was a far cry from the dazzling city lights of Shibuya City that Draken once called home: a suburb outside of the bustling city, where houses and apartments alike that lined the streets as far as the eye can see with the occasional shop breaking the facade. Yet even with the shop entrance nestled off on a side alley, the roads still noticeably buzzed with life as the time drew closer to noon, the hustle and bustle of non-stop traffic and office workers swarming through town that Takemichi remembered had instead been replaced smaller, livelier groups of students filing past with nay a glance at the duo, too caught up in their chatter and gossip of the day.

It was jarring, the former Toman member had to admit, watching the rest of the world go by uncaringly at its own relaxed pace when compared against the urgency of the sticky situation he was in the midst of. Whatever time he spent in the present was time that he couldn’t spend twelve years in the past fixing the future after all. Blue eyes nervously glanced around at every passing soul, before they turned to meet gray ones for the umpteenth time. “Are you sure this is the right place?” The former delinquent asked again, anxiously wringing his hands. He couldn’t help himself, even if Naoto’s sympathetic look had long given way to an annoyed frown. “Maybe we should ring again?”

"No, just give it a minute."

Something felt wrong, yet this ordinary bike shop was precisely where the detective’s digging had pointed him too, the name on the business license unmistakable. So why did it feel so strange? So out-of-place? Takemichi glanced at the shop sign again, the unlit signboard ominously looming over the small alley.

The questions quickly faded as footsteps started to thunder down what must have been a flight of steps after the doorbell announced their presence outside the nondescript motorcycle shop, the sound of annoyed mumbling growing louder as the footsteps approached. Takemichi held his breath. The door rattled for a brief moment before it was yanked open.

"What?"

The single word was growled out before the figure behind the door was fully visible, and Takemichi’s soul nearly left his body as he came face to face with a clearly pissed off Draken. The former Vice Captain of Toman had only grown taller and more intimidating with every passed year, and now twelve years in the future, he made for one formidable figure, blond hair now back to its natural black. A minute of silence as Draken looked between the two, before recognition sparked behind those abyss eyes. “Takemichi?”

“It’s me,” was all said man managed to squeak back.

Letting out a sigh, the bike mechanic dressed in overalls visibly relaxed, the hand clutching a wrench dropping to hang loosely by his side. “It’s been years.”

"It has been," Takemichi nervously laughed, before waving over to a very calm Naoto. “This is Naoto, a friend of mine.”

"So what do the two of you want?"

Straight to the point huh. The time leaper took a gulp of air, steeling his nerves. “W-well, um, Draken-kun, we actually wanted to ask about the… seventh founding member of Toman.” They wanted to ask about you was, what Takemichi wanted to say, but all those instances of being drilled again and again by Chifuyu to avoid saying your name at all costs twelve years ago stopped his heavy tongue from spitting it out.

Another pause as the larger man stared him down, and this time, the stillness was palpable. Takemichi could feel the sweat rolling down the side of his head, waiting for a reaction. His gut only churned more. This was not good,

Quicker than he could see, the next thing the time traveller could process was him being lifted cleanly off the ground by the front of his shirt, his face suddenly leveled with a furious Draken’s. “What?” The Toman founder hissed, the vein on his forehead throbbing. “Wanna repeat that?”

Fuck.

ㅤ

Slamming the door shut behind him, the once-Toman Vice President cursed under his breath as he stormed out from the back room. How fucking dare he. How dare Takemichi come asking for information on you. He had been inches from turning that turd face into a smear on the ground for soiling the memory of you with his thoughts.

Yet for all the anger smeared across his face in plain sight for customers and passers-by alike to see, it was an uncomfortable turmoil that brewed in the base of his gut, one that Draken knew came from a lack of closure. Of course he had been keeping his ear to the ground all these years - how could he not, when you meant and still mean the world to him - but the last thing he expected to happen today would be to be reminded of you and your sudden disappearance twelve years ago and the quick downfall of everything else that followed. You had always been the center of the Tokyo Manji Gang, after all.

In a vain attempt to distract himself from the sudden flurry of memories and thoughts, the former delinquent picked up a socket wrench and pulled out a stool. There was nothing more he could do at the moment, Draken tried to convince himself, busying his hands with loosening the bolts of a motorcycle engine; all Takemichi and his detective friend had brought were more questions instead of answers, but he was certain that he would have heard of any news regarding you.

A buzz as the bell to the backroom door went off once more, and every last shred of concentration the man with the dragon tattoo had left instantly went down the gutter. His mind leapt straight back to Takemichi as the vulgarities and curses started to flow once more. If it was that bastard again with his questions, he swears- “What?!” He barked out as the door flew open once more with a bang, not sparing a second glance as to who it was.

But it wasn’t the two black mobs of hair he had expected to see standing outside, instead being greeted by an awfully familiar swish of a ponytail that Draken hadn’t seen in years, the green of an apron with the logo of a pet shop striking against the backdrop of a dull, gray alley. Those distinct yellow eyes of Baji, once sharp and methodical, were instead completely blown wide with panic, the other shoving the screen of a smartphone straight at him. “It’s- it’s-” The words died away before they could leave his tongue; the former Toman’s First Division Captain clearly too shocked by something to say a hello or even notice Draken’s foul mood. And the temperamental pet shop delinquent would have never let that kind of tone drop without a fight.

The motorcycle engineer simply snatched up the phone to take a better look himself. “What am I looking at?” A pause, a sudden silence as Draken continued to squint at the screen while Baji collected his thoughts and emotions.

“It’s her.”

Draken almost dropped the phone as soon as the other blurted out those two laden words. “What?” The man muttered, his voice lost to disbelief. He knew, of course, who Baji was referring to. “That’s not possible.” It simply wasn’t. He would have known if you had been seen.

“Look.” Snatching back his phone, Baji clicked into one of his conversations, before turning the screen back around. “A message from her number. Yesterday night. I only saw it when I woke up.”

Draken’s mind instantly jumped to his earlier visit, and Takemichi’s probing questions about you. Was this related? Did he know something that Draken did not? Logic told the tattooed man otherwise - as much as he would have liked for you to have appeared out of thin air, there must be a different explanation. “Could it have been Mikey?” It must be, since they both knew that Bonten had continued to maintain your number all these years, Mikey having never really gotten over your sudden disappearance.

“So you don’t know about this either, huh?” The once First Division Captain shook his head, frowning as he concentrated. “Why would he send something like this?”

And that was true: the way the message started with a very hesitant “to whoever this number now belongs to” and directly addressed to a “hopefully Baji-kun”, there was no doubt that it must be you. What was the chance someone else with the same name as you would also know that this was Baji’s personal number? But how?

Any conversation left between the two died away, the two men left to ponder. The world, of course, simply kept turning, passersby eagerly making their way to unknown destinations, strolling past the small alley without a second glance at the duo, while the occasional vehicle rattled and raced down wide, empty roads.

Letting out a sigh, Draken stepped aside, waving at his once close-friend into the dimly-lit backroom. “I think you best come in. I’ll close up shop for the day.”

ㅤ

Twelve years in the past, despite your best efforts, you once again found yourself in the thick of things.

You sighed. “This is a bit of an overkill, don’t you think boys?” The rattling of chains seemed to agree with you, the metal links rubbing and clanking against each other as they followed the cuffed hand you raised to shake amusedly at the Toman founders huddled around you. Back twelve years in the past and once more separate from Takemichi’s time leaping woes, things were hardly going any better for you. “I’m really not going anywhere, I promise.”

To no one’s surprise, the boys disagreed, and they were far from afraid to make that known despite your assurances; you could tell from the tightening clutches and tugging on your shirt, and that was if you could ignore the immediate protests and whining and whimpering that broke out. But you couldn’t really blame them, you suppose, musing to yourself as you rested your chin atop a shifty Mikey’s head, unchained hand moving to gently hold Draken’s much larger one as Kazutora tried his best to snuggle his way into the crook of your neck and probably under your skin as well. After all, it had been just a single night since you had made your sudden reappearance in the small alley a stone’s throw away from your school in a gust of wind, and three nights since you first disappeared. You were sure this was the first and longest time your boys had been apart from you ever since they entered your life.

“You did disappear though,” Mitsuya’s voice cut above the others, those dark, heavy eyebags that clung to the bottom of his and everyone else’s eyes telling you everything you needed to know. “And we still haven’t figured out what caused you to… vanish.”

“To time travel,” you corrected gently. It was easy to tell that the delinquents around you were still uncertain about how you managed to slip their grasp without their knowledge, let alone accept the idea of you having somehow leapt into the future, somewhere that they were unable to follow you to. They had always been protective of you, perhaps because of the difference between their strength and yours.

Allowing your gaze to take a wander away from the mobs of hair of various colors gathered around you, your bedroom was exactly how you remembered it had been even twelve years in the future, your belongings having been left in the exact same spot all those years. Well, aside from the unmade bed where you had fallen asleep amidst the pile of delinquents the previous night, that is. Your present blankets were left still tossed aside into a messy pile, and you couldn’t help but wonder how your Toman friends knew how to fold them back the same way you always had. Did they also take turns keeping your home clean all those years? You wondered if they had managed to share such a difficult task that would have carried so many possibly painful memories. Which inevitably led your line of thought straight back to the various questions that had been plaguing your mind: where was the future you? What happened to Mikey that left him in such a state? And where were the rest of your Toman friends?

Yet all you had were more and more questions. Shaking yourself out of your ponderings, you focused your gaze back onto the lively group of delinquents. “I don’t know what’s going on either, but it’s probably linked to the onomori you boys gave me for safekeeping.” The same purple-and-gold charm from the very founding of the gang, the same onomori that had been stabbed during that life-threatening attack on Ken-chin you tried in vain to stop, the same one that Sanzu had accidentally discovered could summon you back from the future: it now hung from a metal chain under said Vice Captain’s shirt, pressed tight against his sternum where it could get constant skin contact, and more importantly, safe from the grabby fingers of Mikey and Kazutora.

The blond-haired delinquent with the intimidating dragon tattoo only instinctively reached for the onomori once more, as if to assure himself it was still there, the collar of his shirt crumpling as he closed his fist around the bloodstained, amateurishly-patched charm. Now that they had it, you mused, there shouldn’t be any more issues.

Baji, who had earlier been shoved aside by a bawling Kazutora, grumpily poked your side, and you jumped a little in response. “So what happens in the future?” The black-haired boy asked, as you beckoned him closer, patting an empty spot to your right where he could lean up against your shoulder.

Ah, you had hoped that their line of thought wouldn’t have gone there. Because how were you supposed to respond? You hesitated, the white-haired bony, tired figure of the future Mikey roaring straight back to the front of your mind with that question. Should you be telling them about the future? Sure that would be the easiest way to ensure that that particular timeline never happened, given you were sure this would be the first time your boys will have ever heard of this predicament you found yourself in, but what if you accidentally changed the future for the worse? What if you did something irreversible that only made a bigger mess?

Maybe it would be better if you kept things to yourself first - you could always tell them the full truth later on if you needed to. Keeping that in mind, you were quick to school your face back to a neutral expression, though the brief flash of internal panic across your face at that question was enough to raise suspicion. Kazutora instantly leapt to his feet, tears that had already been dried starting to well once more at the corner of reddened eyes, lips starting to quaver once more as he jabbed a finger in your direction. “Y-you left us,” his word ladened with accusation, those sandy brown eyes clouding over as the waterworks flowed. “You did, didn’t you? You m-married someone else in the future.”

And he sounded so convinced by his own words too, you amusedly noted, as if it had already happened because he said so. “I did not,” you stated simply, reaching over to affectionately pat his knee. “I told you, you boys will always be my priority.” You weren’t sure how the delinquent with the duo-colored hair came to that particular conclusion, though you supposed it was simply just jealous.

Draken raised an imposing eyebrow. “And you don’t want to tell us what happens because?”

“Because I’m afraid it changes the future for the worse.”

“What can you tell us?”

You hummed, your eyes glancing momentarily towards the ceiling as you thought before returning to meet Draken’s gaze. “My room was still exactly the same in the future.”

“Really?” Pah looked intrigued at the idea.

“Yup! Whoever did it did a good job too, my blankets were even folded back neatly.”

Outside, your neighbor was quiet as it always was right at noon, with students yet to be released from their classes and workers still congregated under the big city lights. It was strange, looking over roads and houses that you knew would stand the test of time, leaving you to wonder if the neighbors you were well-acquainted with still occupied their homes in the future you came from. Letting out a sigh as you leaned back onto your bedroom wall, you stretched out lazily as best as you could. “Say,” you ventured. “Did you happen to meet future me?”

Kazutora sniffled, just as Mikey lifted his head to stare blankly at you, as if your question had been asked in Martian. “W-what?” “What?”

”Nothing,” you hastily concluded. Seems like the ‘future you’ was somehow missing, and you noted that down mentally in case you needed that.

ㅤ

Thankfully the subject of your apparently strange question was dropped before you had to elaborate any further on your awkward question, with dirty looks immediately being exchanged between the two still clung to you, though the black-and-yellow haired boy’s ire was quickly stolen

You hadn’t missed Mitsuya’s unwillingness to mingle with the rest for the entire length of the time the six boys had been gathered, the lilac-haired boy keeping a careful distance from Kazutora in particular, nor did you miss Kazutora’s and Mikey’s seeming aversion to each other’s presence as well, the ugly stink eyes they shot at each other over your shoulders while attempting to jab at each other when they thought you weren’t looking hard to pass over. It was clear that your disappearance had sparked a fight between the Toman founders, and though the exact details were still lost on you, it wouldn’t do to leave this crack to split any further as far as you could help it. Huffing at Kazutora’s more insistent grip around your waist, an indulgent smile pulled at the corner of your lips as you beckoned at Mitsuya to join the huddle, before your hand moved to gently stroke a pouting Mikey’s back. “Have you boys been fighting again?”

“No.” “No.” The immediate denials, combined with their gazes instantly dropping from yours, were suspicious to say the least. You imagined that they had, in fact, been fighting while you were lost to the flow of time. You wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

Tutting, you dished out forehead kisses to the beefing delinquents, feeling them melt away against you. “If I cook some tempura for everyone for lunch, would you be willing to make up?”

You didn’t need to wait long to get your answer.

ㅤ

Days started to pass, the hours slipping through your fingers like water. Every minute brought you further and further from your little trip to the future, your disappearance from this present. Your boys had yet to let up with their obsessive observations of you as you expected. It had, after all, just been four days since your return. You simply took it in stride, having no qualms about them wanting to tail you anywhere and everywhere, clinging to a limb or to your back as you went about your day; it definitely beat being confined to just your bedroom and cuffed to your bedpost. With enough reassurances about how you really wouldn’t leave them, and that no, you couldn’t control your time traveling, you even managed to convince your delinquents to let you back out into the wider world for accompanied trips to the supermarket and snack shops. School, however, was still out of the question for the foreseeable future (you tried).

The afternoon sky overhead was unusually overcast, the threat of rain only growing more convincing with every passing minute. Strong gusts of wind rattled windows and doors, ferrying the heavy gray clouds straight in your direction as the humidity only seemed to climb higher and higher, and you were very certain that a thunderstorm was brewing despite the continued absence of thunder. Yet here you were, you mused, as you sat on a curb with a drink in hand, alone outside for the first time in a week while you waited for Baji to settle some differences with the other delinquents inside the store. Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember the last time you had been left truly alone ever since your disappearance, though clearly, Baji not wanting you to watch him fight sat higher on the priority list. It probably wasn’t going to take long anyway.

A pause as you scratched mindlessly at your skin under the cuff. Did Baji from the future also like to fight as much as your current Baji?

Despite the possibility of you returning to that particular future being close to zero in your opinion, given that the boys had a good handle on that purple-gold charm, but you couldn’t help but think back on the white-haired Mikey from the future that had melted in your arms, that you had left behind. Ah no, not left behind, you corrected yourself, as you tried to wave away the instant guilt that settled in your heart. Technically - technically it was just one of many possible futures, and that particular future where your friend had suffered so much could have already been changed.

But something deep in your gut told you that you were wrong. Pushing that line of thinking to the back of your head, you instead opted to amuse yourself with the shenanigans of the past few days as you waited.

You had, for one, been cooking almost non-stop for your boys ever since your return: breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert and snacks. Unusual, certainly, and you didn’t have to of course: no one was forcing you to, even if your clingy trio had the strongest pouty faces and watery eyes you knew, but you did feel like you had to make it up to them for all the worry. You did however get a lot of amusement attempting to send them to the supermarket with a grocery list.

And then there was the matter of Sanzu and the residue guilt that you couldn’t shake off. Sure, this Sanzu was not the same as the pink-haired man from the future with the crazy eyes, but you still wanted to put things right. Consoling yourself that even if it did change the future, a Sanzu that you were on amicable terms on was much better than dealing with someone that absolutely hated your guts for reasons beyond you, and apologizing in advance never caused any harm. It did take a lot of pleading, cajoling and outright bribery, but you finally manage to get Mikey and Draken to reluctantly agree to allow you to meet with the Fifth Division Vice Captain, though the two did remain very suspicious of how you knew the other.

Your lips were sealed from any further details, and you said your apologies and your thanks without giving out much information to the confusion of the boy with the mask, though thankfully for everyone involved, the meeting went rather uneventfully. Much to your dismay, the other was most likely forbidden from speaking to you, simply opting to listen quietly and then nodding at the end of your rambling, but you didn’t want to give him any more trouble - you didn’t trust your boys’ usual excuse that Sanzu was just quiet by nature and didn’t like to talk; they have been using that excuse for years by now. At least, you comforted yourself, you did manage to slip him another bag of karaage while a pouting Mikey was distracted.

You breathed out, watching another car whizz by as you took a sip from the bottle of iced tea. Beaded sweat that clung to your hair was dabbed off with a handkerchief, the humidity of the already hot afternoon only rising as the rain-laden clouds, gray from their load, rolled threateningly closer.

ㅤ

Glancing at your watch, you decided that it had been a long enough period of time for you to venture back into the small shop, the plastic bag hanging from your wrist rustling as you stood - your delinquent friend should be about done by now. But all you managed to take was a single step before you were quickly stopped once more. “Oh-” You blinked, shaking off the surprise, the black of the other’s shirt that you ran into momentarily blocking your entire field of vision. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

An annoyed tsk was all you earned it seemed as you quickly moved aside, and as your gaze was raised from the ground to meet the other, your obstacle was quickly revealed to be a boy with streaked yellow and blue hair, pierced violet eyes staring down at you through the circle lens of gold-rimmed glasses. A face you didn’t recognize from anywhere, not even the future. One that you would usually apologize again, write to the back of your mind, and then quickly move on to avoid any trouble, though the trailing blood leaking from the other’s nose and the bruises that decorated his face made you pause. “You’re hurt! Are you okay?”

”Fuck off.”

You didn’t let that bother you. “Don’t worry,” you assured, showing the other the scar left on your palm back from when you tried to save Ken-chin from that knife attack. “I’m a professional.”

That seemed to confuse the boy enough for you to leap into action as his violet eyes looked bewilderedly between the small mark and your confident gaze. Whipping open your bag, you produced a small bottle of ointment and a few bandages, basic supplies that you always kept on hand for your own delinquent boys. “What’s your name?” You asked cheerfully as you ever so gently dabbed the dark spots before sticking a bandage over.

“Rindo,” the boy answered. You replied with your own name, and that was that.

Carefully rinsing and repeating your procedure with each bruise till you were done (you were rather surprise he let you, if you were being honest), you passed him a tissue for his nose after with strict instructions to blow out the blood and not swallow it.

The other obediently held the tissue to his nose without complaints, as if silently asking if you were done now and to leave him alone. Not that you noticed, too busy rummaging through the convenience store plastic bag and retrieving a wrapped piece of taiyaki, to which you pressed it into his hand. “Here! For you,” you lifted your own open drink. “Sorry, I only bought one drink.”

The ring of the convenience store door opening again was a bell that cut off any further conversations, and you waved a short bye to your newfound friend before rushing over to meet an exiting and very grumpy Baji.

ㅤ

Once more separated from you by simple time, the gunshot shattered the tension weighing down the freezing air of the refrigerated warehouse, finally silencing the annoying muffled begging as the bullet cleaved through flesh as effortlessly as a butcher’s knife through tuna. A click as the used shell was expelled, yet hushness was quick to fall once more over the warehouse despite the area being far from empty. Mikey exhaled, his warm breath leaving a trail of fog behind in the cold air even as the man simply continued to stare blankly ahead, abyss eyes fixed on some unknown spot off from where the traitor’s head had been just a minute earlier, gun lowered to hang limply by his side.

A stone’s throw away, unusually alert green eyes framed by long pink lashes remained trained on the unmoving Mikey, the corners of Sanzu’s scarred mouth remained downturned as he contemplated what he had just witnessed. Far from the blood and death that bothered the made man, it was rather the sight of Mikey being there amidst the pooling blood instead of him, Bonten’s Hammer. After all, it was rare - unheard of - for the boss to personally bloody his hands with the dirty work, yet this was far from being the first instance of such an exception happening this week alone, be it to rivals, traitors or Bonten members alike. There had been several close calls for even the executives where the various members had found themselves at the business end of Mikey’s gun, Sanzu included, though fortunately there hadn’t been any accidental deaths yet.

And it was clear they remembered the past week’s incidents, Bonten’s Number Two breaking from his thoughts to throw an accusatory glance Kakucho’s way, given how everyone else was happy to let the boss stew, content with their quiet observation from a safe distance. Said black-haired man returned Sanzu’s icy look with a shrug that said everything: no one was too sure what was going to accidentally set Mikey off next, and with how trigger happy the man has been in the past few days, no one was quite keen to find out either.

Which left only Sanzu to do the job - the same man who had just been discharged from hospital after committing the ultimate sin and still very much neck deep in Mikey’s shit list - but still the only person left willing to risk his life. And he didn’t even have any drugs left - that shithead of a doctor in Bonten’s infirmary ward had confiscated his own stash on top of denying him any painkillers. Traitors, the whole lot of them.

The soles of Sanzu’s handcrafted shoes crunched atop the icy floor as he hesitantly took a few steps in the direction of his king.“Mikey?”

No response. Not a twitch.

The white-haired man seemed to barely even be breathing, lost to the breaking world in his mind. And there was no doubt about what caused this spiral. After all, it had been a mere three nights since you disappeared from his arms. Four days since Mikey had completely stopped eating or sleeping; and the few times Sanzu had caught the other nodding off for a few minutes before something wretched him back awake once more didn’t count. Short stubble dotting his chin, his mob of white, uncombed hair unkept atop his head, and still dressed in the same days-old clothes, it was as if he had ceased to function completely, and it was because of you that Sanzu’s king was rotting away, perishing before his eyes. A ruthless, cold man Mikey was as the head of the largest criminal syndicate in Japan, but twelve long years apart and for him to have only a taste of his darling you before some unknown force wretched you away from him again; it was as if the spark to keep slugging onwards had finally been extinguished from the broken man, and the strongman facade was starting to crack.

Despite the pink-haired man’s continued disdain for you, he understood, but there was nothing more he could do. Every available resource at Bonten’s disposal had already been committed to combing every inch of Tokyo, and all they could do now was wait. Letting out a sigh, Sanzu closed the distance, taking the few steps that brought him elbow to elbow with the boss, with just a couple of inches between the two. “Mikey? You alright?” He tried again.

Silence once more blanketed the area as his words drifted off and died, the freezing air in the refrigerated warehouse thick and heavy and hard to breathe. Off in the distance, Rindo shivered from behind the seat of a forklift, the chill finally getting to the younger of the Haitani brothers, but the world still fell silent.

At least this time Mikey did react, though not to Sanzu, the Bonten boss simply turning away from his right hand man, slippers making nay a sound as he padded away towards the exit, body listing from side to side with every step. “Ah, is it?” The ragged whisper that fell from Mikey’s lips seemed to echo louder than the earlier gunshot, unsteady steps threatening to give way under the man’s frail frame as he muttered to himself. “It was me? I see.”

All Sanzu could do was watch and grimace, hand moving to grip the bottom of his striped vest, knuckles turning white from his tight, frustrated clench. Mikey wasn’t speaking to any of the executives present, no, but to you: the whispering, taunting version of you that lived rent-free in Mikey’s hallucinations and delusions. Like a ghost that refused to depart, your shade haunting the white-haired man’s every move despite your absence, staying just beyond his grasp yet so mockingly close - who knew what kind of vicious words you were tormenting him with?

Even as he still questioned what had led to his intense dislike of you in the first place, he knew that the real you would never do such a thing, especially considering the tenderness with which he had previously witnessed you holding Mikey’s bony hand with. Definitely not to Mikey, but that was a matter for a different time. Shaking his head to clear his mind, the second-in-command tuned out those nagging voices, letting out a sigh that instantly fogged up into a cloud of white fog as he turned his attention back on the unstable man in front of him. Truly, having to live with this amount of clarity at all times was painful.

ㅤ

One step wrongly placed, and time felt as if it came to a crawl as Mikey’s slipper failed to get a grasp on the thin layer of ice that coated the cement tiles, the already lethargic man looked as if he would be meeting the ground under his own weakened legs, white hair streaming out behind the Bonten boss as he descended.

Sanzu moved. “Wait Mikey, you’re-” Calloused hands shot out in an attempt to catch his falling king, though it seemed too little too late, that signature black shirt brushing past the tips of his fingers.

But in that instant, the former up-and-coming delinquent was quicker, a speed reminiscent of his glory days as Toman’s President as he caught himself with little difficulty. “Don’t you fucking touch her,” the guttural growl reverberated across the tin-roofed building, and in one smooth move, the black pistol whipped around to lined straight up with the centre of Sanzu’s forehead, the black, heavy eyebags that clung to the bottom of Mikey’s eyes scrunching up as his gaze narrowed dangerously.

The world held its breath as green eyes met abyss ones.

A second ticked by.

A bead of sweat gathered along Sanzu’s pink hairline despite the freezing temperature, trickling down the side of his face. Was this it?

Another second.

Perhaps it was a mere moment of recognition that glimmered behind those exhausted eyes to which clung black, heavy eyebags, perhaps it was your specter taking pity on him, saving him from what was an unenviable fate. Whatever it had been, the heaved sigh of relief that slipped out from Sanzu’s scarred lips started his world spinning once more as the barrel of the gun was lowered, the other’s bony arm shaking from the effort of holding up the pistol. He hadn’t been sure if Mikey would squeeze the trigger, and even though he wouldn’t have been too angry to die by his liege’s hands, it was far from the right time to leave the other to those spiralling thoughts. He did, after all, swear an oath to keep the former Toman President safe; he had for all this time and he will continue to do so, even if it meant keeping Mikey safe from himself.

The palpable stillness persisted as seven pairs of various colored eyes watched Mikey turn once more to leave, soundless steps reverberating through the tense air as his abnormally delicate figure grew smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared behind the half-open warehouse door, long tendrils of cold fog lazily trailing out after him.

Running one hand through his mob of pink hair, Sanzu took a glance around at the rest of the executives present as a silent grumble slipped his lips; it was rare to see anything but amusement on the faces of these usually desensitized criminals, and even rarer for everyone present to be of the same thought. And if it had been anything but this conundrum, the pink-haired second in command wouldn’t have wasted any time in giving it to them for showing such useless emotions. But with the quickly deteriorating state of their boss as the hours and days go by and no sign of your return or your presence anywhere, there was little they could do but watch with concern as Mikey wasted away.

Despite the already ongoing search looking non-stop for you, all day and all night, a tightening knot at the base of his gut combined with a nagging feeling told Sanzu that they were unlikely to find you anywhere, his mind instantly leaping back to the pounding headache and the change in his memory back when he awoke in the infirmary four days ago. Why did he stop hating you with every fiber of his being previously? How did you do that? No matter what the others said, there was definitely something off about his sudden change of heart with regards to you, Sanzu knew without doubt, and he would get to the bottom of this.

For now, what he needed to figure out was what combination of begging and groveling would be enough to get Mikey to at least accept some water.

ㅤ

Yet just three hours later, Mikey’s situation had already taken a turn for the worse. Four days without food, let alone sleep, would do anyone in, and even the once undefeated Toman President was no exception. Now standing alone, consumed by the darkness of the last untrodden area in Bonten headquarters, Sanzu knew he was breaking every rule worth remembering, doing something so explicitly forbidden by his king. But as he rummaged through mostly empty cupboards and amidst the little belongings owned by the infinitely wealthy yakuza boss in a bid to find something, anything that could help, the black hole of spiraling thoughts that encompassed the events of the past thirty minutes overriding any awareness he had the items passing through his hands.

After all, it had been him who had come across Mikey, his near-skeletal figure sprawled unconscious across plush carpets halfway down Executive Row, just meters away from the worn white door of his bedroom. It had been him who had scooped the man into his arms and rushed him down to the infirmary, grimly noting how the man weighed barely anything. And it had also been him, on his knees and his forehead to the ground, pleading with a conscious Mikey to allow the doctor to administer a fluid IV, only for the other to reject his fervent imploring with a simple turn of his head, those exhausted abyss eyes breaking from his teary green ones wordlessly to stare blankly at the ceiling. Because no words needed to be said for Sanzu to know what the boss demanded: he would accept nothing less than your return and your cooking.

Despite the white-haired man not being present, allowing the light from the hallway outside to pour into the usually unilluminated room - the gloom and morbidness just as Mikey likes it - felt too much like the discretion of such a sacred space to the ever-loyal Sanzu, though this did leave him to conduct his hunt with just the sliver of light that sipped in from under the door. The cold sweat that gathered and pooled on his palms was hastily wiped away on striped pants as the usually high second-in-command attempted to focus back on his searching, green eyes scanning around in a desperate attempt to find something that could help, a clue that could point to where you were, anything.

This was all your fault. Was there nothing he could do but let fate play out?

It was only as Sanzu threw up his arms in exasperation did a glimmer from the furthest end of the room catch the corner of his eye; the small amount of light that reflected back seemed to sparkle even in the dark. The faintest shimmer of gold. What was that? A cautious few steps revealed the source to be a school bag - your school bag, judging from the neatly written name on the tag - that you had failed to take with you for whatever reason. And more importantly, hanging from the front of the bag from a zipper was that notorious purple-and-gold onomori that had him recoil his hand as if burnt.

No doubt it was the same one that still haunted his every step, one that marked you as off-limits all those years ago on the threat of torture and death. Yet -

The Bonten man reached out, gripping the onomori with one fist. He vaguely remembered something from many years ago, maybe twelve or more, when you first disappeared, when you first gave him that bag of karaage. He had been the one to find your charm, and if his scrambled memory hasn’t failed him, the simple of act of picking up this charm had summoned you out of thin air. Though after holding it for a rough five minutes, Sanzu sighed, undoing the simple note that kept the charm tied to your bag before standing. He probably just dreamt that particular one up during one of his highs.

Still, the man noted as he wrapped the small item ever so carefully in a clean handkerchief and tucked it into his breast pocket, it was probably precious to Mikey. Something to lift his spirits a bit maybe, if it did nothing else - anything that would keep his king going until you could be located.

And pressing it into said man’s weak hand later, and watching the charm disappear under sterile white blankets as Mikey retracted his thin arm, it was all too clear to Sanzu that the other was running out of time. If they don't find you soon, Mikey dies.

Turning to leave his boss to his thoughts, the right-hand man decided that he didn’t quite enjoy all the stress. He could use a smoke about now.

ㅤ

The sight of the empty lot where your school building formerly sat brought that familiar gut-sinking feeling back to your abdomen, one that you didn’t think you would be feeling again. Running one hand through your hair, you let a sigh escape your lips. You were back in the future again, it seems. Whether this was the same future or a different one, or even if you had skipped ahead the same number of years was something that was beyond you at the moment, and you had even less on you this time then the previous incident, having been caught in your literal pajamas right as you were about to head to bed. Which came with a secondary problem, one that you found by simply looking up - it was still the middle of night.

The neighborhood where your school once was was silent as it always was at this time of day, with most students and adults alike usually asleep by this time of day. Slipping your phone out from your pocket, you noted that the battery was dead once more: was it just a side effect of the time leaping?

Patting down the rest of your pajamas only confirmed that you had none of your house keys on you unlike your previous experience, which only meant that you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Though heading back home wouldn’t be a bad idea if this was still the same timeline, and your feet started to carry you down familiar paths once more. Yes, you were sure at least someone would know you were back if you waited by the front door.

ㅤ

Takemichi let out an exasperated grunt, ruffling his hands through his hair. He had been back and forth from the future twice in the last four days alone, plus that disaster meeting with Draken, and nothing. No clues, no progress, nothing. You were still nowhere to be found. Kicking a stone down empty roads, the former Toman delinquent felt truly helpless for the first time. If his time leaping ability was being overridden by yours, then there was no point to what he was putting himself through - he couldn’t change the future until they could figure out how to stop yours.

And that meant…

The black-haired man shook his head vigorously in an attempt to stop his thoughts from going down that beckoning abyss. No, he couldn’t give up now. Taking a deep breath, Takemichi looked up, fists clenched determined by his side.

It was the middle of the night now, and the streets were completely empty of souls, with the exception of him wandering down aimlessly. In the distant, an occasional rumble of the engine of a passing vehicle, though none passed his way. But Naoto had mentioned that this area was where your school once stood, plus you lived not too far away as well, and therefore if you were really a time leaper, then there was a high chance this was the place you would return to. It made sense, Takemichi agreed, but this was already the umpteeth time he had searched.

Pulling one hand down his face, a flash of hair in the distance caught the man’s eye before it quickly disappeared behind a wall, too fast for him to even register. That looked like…you? Was that a hallucination?

A quick jog forward took Takemichi to the bend in the street, but when he looked round the corner, whatever trace of whoever it had been walking the roads was already gone.

ㅤ

Across the bustling city of Tokyo, Rindo froze mid-step.

Yet the sudden lack of movement was lost on Ran. The evening traffic had yet to let up outside, the rumbling of cars and the occasional horn cutting through the unnatural silence that hung inside the tiny shop tucked just a street away from the main road, though it was precisely the quietness that had carried with it the promise of an earlier rest. Careful to avoid dirtying his shoes with blood, the older Haitani had already made his way to the exit, suit jacket casually swung over one shoulder, gun tucked away safely and out of his side under his vest. “Let’s head straight back to base, Rindo,” Ran groaned, running one hand through his short purple hair only to grimace upon realizing that said hand was caked with someone else’s blood. Today was really not going his way. “You can grab a drink at the rooftop bar or something, I don’t know.”

Yanking the front door open with a grunt, said Bonten executive didn’t stop to hear if there was a response from his younger brother, instead opting to step straight out and back onto the narrow side alley, the buzzing streetlight overhead as if a welcome back from the grim of that filthy store and its dead, traitorous owner. Taking a breath of the comparatively better smelling air outside, Ran stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants, pulling out a sole crumpled cigarette and a handful of change - but no lighter. Not even a match. Fuck this fucking disgusting job.

Ran turned, hand already outstretched. “Rindo, do you have a light -” And it was only then did it hit him that his brother had not followed him out. Rindo was still in the store for some goddamn reason, and he had to go back in there. The feared mafia officer sighed. This had better be important.

Alas, he spoke too soon.

“I think my memories just changed,” was seemingly all that Rindo could bring himself to mumble at the chime that came with the opening door, the man with the long purple hair still standing by the row of unpowered display refrigerators where Ran had last seen him, violet eyes staring down at the blood pooling around the cooling bodies sprawled on the floor. The stench of iron didn’t seem to bother the younger Haitani, too caught up in his jumbled mind as Rindo tried to make head or tail of what had just happened.

Ran, however, was far from impressed, simply propping both his hands on his hips and raising one eyebrow at that statement. “Did you get into Sanzu’s drug stash?”

The sheer vileness of that statement alone was enough to shake Rindo out from his own little world, with said man snapping straight back into reality ready for a fight. “How dare you-” the younger of the two let out a cough, the sudden thick smell of death and blood that made itself known to his previously oblivious nostrils choking up his airway momentarily. “How dare you say that.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to say when you talk dumb shit?”

“It’s not dumb shit, fuck you Ran! My memories changed!” Rindo insisted, carelessly stepping over the bodies at his feet, Ran wincing at the blood splattering up and all over his brother’s shoes. That would be a pain to clean later.

But still, the older Haitani led the way back outside and into the fresher air of the alleyway, before turning around to better understand the situation his dear brother seemed to have found himself in. “Alright, if not pink pills, then what happened?”

Rindo himself still seemed to be struggling to make head or tail of what had just happened, letting out a groan as the man with the long purple hair rubbed his temple with one hand. “It was after we shot those two inside. All of a sudden, my head felt like it was about to explode for a second, and I suddenly knew…stuff. Things that I didn’t know before."

“Like what?”

“You know you were telling me about Mikey’s girl earlier?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ve never met her, and before the job, I couldn’t tell you what color her hair was. I can pick her out from a line of schoolgirls now.”

“Oh.”

Violet eyes met each other, and as if on instinct, both men thought back to the Bonten infirmary just days earlier, where an eerily similar sentence had been muttered. Sanzu. Ran sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So it wasn’t the drugs.” This day was just getting worse and worse. “Let’s head back and sync up.”

“Sure,’ Rindo shrugged, scratching the back of his head as he nonchalantly followed his older brother, the purple-haired duo stepping out onto the busy main street and blending into the crowd, blood splattered shoes a distant thought. “I do remember her being pretty nice though.”

Ran raised an eyebrow, as he absentmindedly fiddled with his earring. “Pretty nice or pretty and nice?”

The younger Haitani audibly tsked, raising one leg to kick at the other’s. “You know what I said.”

ㅤ

The lighter, joky mood that the brothers shared didn’t last past their return to Bonten HQ, much to Ran’s disappointment, the usually silent place abuzz with a rare, panic atmosphere. Men and women alike dressed in neatly pressed suits rushing every which way, the small bulge under their suit jacket where their guns were strapped to an unspoken reminder of where they were - no doubt the communicators fixed to their ears were all but alight with barked orders and updates. Casually grabbing a passing grunt, it took a mere moment and single shouted objection for the poor soul to realize who exactly had grabbed him by the back of his shirt, the purple and green striped suits too iconic to be mistaken. “Ah- oh, Haitani-sama.”

“What’s going on?” Ran didn’t need to see through those dark sunglasses to see the other’s shifty look: the nameless Bonten grunt was definitely contemplating the chance of him being dead within the next five minutes as opposed to the next hour.

”Uh-“

Rindo reached threateningly into the depths of his suit, and sweat began to pour off the other’s forehead. “You know,” the younger of the two Haitanis started. “I’ve had a really bad day.”

”No, please, Haitani-sama, I’m not sure-“

Fortunately for all three men involved, the interrogation was brought to quick and uneventful close with the appearance of an all-too familiar mob of pink hair just as Rindo pulled a lollipop out to pop into his mouth. The grunt was let go to scramble off as both sets of violet eyes snapped to the unusual sight of Sanzu impatiently tapping his foot soundlessly against the plush carpet of the foyer, smoking cigarette held between scarred lips as the man looked around before glancing once more at his watch.

A smirk instantly began to pull at Ran’s lips as he stuffed both hands into the pockets of his pants, strolling over. “Oh Sanzu~”

“I’m busy,” came the other’s curt reply, green eyes looking Ran up and down a mere moment before turning away.

”We know, we know,” the man with the short purple hair pacified. “It’s just that-“

Rindo quickly butted in, having closely followed his older brother over. It was clear that Sanzu, far from his usual drugged up and easily bullied state, actually had things to do and places to be. “My memories changed.”

Sanzu’s unusually alert gaze slid over once more to meet Rindo’s, and it seemed the severity of what the younger Haitani said set in quickly as his eyes steeled. “Mine did too. Again,” the Bonten second-in-command disclosed, though he said no more as the glass doors of the foyer slid open and Kakucho stepped out, gloved hand lightly touching where his gun was strapped to his chest under his jacket. “We’ll talk about this later. House alarm tripped again.”

Ah, your little pick-up party, Ran noted from the side, watching the two top Bonten executives slip effortlessly into a black, featureless car that quickly pulled away from the compound. So you were back - and your arrival must have something to do with the changing memories.

How interesting.

ㅤ

Across town, Draken cursed out loud as his feet flew over concrete paths down empty streets. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You were a fucking time leaper.

He had been working late on a client’s bike as he always did, the closed garage a quiet refuge after the hustle of the normal work day. The headache had hit him like a clap of thunder, with his brain feeling it was pressing up against his skull; and memories of twelve years past suddenly started to flood back, a recollection he couldn’t control. But they were all memories that he didn’t previously have, freshly added memories: some of your reappearance in his past, some of a fight he never recalled having with the other Toman founders, and most importantly, memories of you telling them what had happened.

It changed him, Draken admitted. It gave him a renewed hope that he didn’t remember possessing, that they might be able to fix this entire mess, that you were somewhere out there. All this time you were missing - it was true. You couldn’t control it like you had admitted. But if the past him still had that onomori, then why were you back in the future?

Turning a corner, a quick step aside was the only thing that kept him from running straight into someone else, though those fast, honed reflexes also almost had Draken swinging his fist into an all-too familiar face.

Baji was panting as if he had ran a full marathon, his apron half undone and left swinging from his neck, his hand clutching his open phone. It seemed like the other Toman founder had been struck with the same revelations, Draken determined, judging from the half-dressed state he was in.

And then those two fateful words tumbled from Baji’s lips. “Time leaper.”

236 notes · View notes

goldengirliez · 7 days

Text

oml, please help me, I can't stop thinking about giving head to Manila Mikey.

Idea from this drabble! ☆

02:53 pm

We all know how Mikey is, deep inside that apathetic shell of his, his empty heart and dull eyes, he's aching uncontrollably to feel anything aside from that void that consumes his senseless.

He gets so overwhelmed that he often forgets to eat, shower, and take care of himself with basic actions.

But he has you. His beloved, his light in the darkness, his anchor during the storm that keeps him grounded.

Even on days when intrusive thoughts caress his skin alluringly, you're there to keep them away from your man, you're there and keep him alive.

Just like today.

It's a hot, clammy day: no matter how many windows you may want to open, the air won't just come in to cool down your dripping skin, the oppressive weather creeps through your lungs and violates them, taking away the oxygen you need way too soon.

You're hot, you are bored and you're tired of waiting for your boyfriend to get out of the shower so you can get it all for yourself.

Your bare feet tap softly against the floor, quickly moving towards the bathroom where you left your beloved around thirty minutes ago, ready to scold him for taking so long.

You put your hand on the golden, rusty doorknob and turn it silently. Pushing the wooden panel open with a small "creak" sound, the humidity of the post-shower air invades your senses, inserting in between the fabric of your soft garments and dampening your skin even so slightly.

Your eyes immediately fall on the figure in front of you, seated on the glossy, black stool next to the sink.

Mikey's head is dropped low, his wet liquorice hair is covering his pale, porcelain skin: his onyx eyes are slightly visible to you and they are surely lost in nothingness. He's sitting still, not moving a muscle as if he didn't even notice you enter before.

You're not going to scold that poor angel for a fucking shower: you're going to scold yourself for not taking it with him. He often gets lost in thoughts and that's not a good sign at all.

"'jiro, what's wrong?"

You carefully step closer to him, crouching down to his level and cradling his fluffy cheeks in your hands: slowly blinking his eyes, as if was slowly waking up from a peaceful dream, he looks up at you desperately.

"Please, make them shut the fuck up".

Often the best way to silence your thoughts is to focus on something louder than the voices inside your head.

That's what Mikey needs right now.

Usually, he would let you suck him off to your heart's content but that's not what he needs right now: he needs to feel loved, cared about and seen. He needs to know he's there with you and not anywhere else lost in his mind.

You can feel the hardness of the cold tiles underneath your knees as you kneel in front of him, which is in contrast with the hotness of that cute, pinkish mushroom head of his shaft and the smoothness of his skin in your palm.

Manjiro's eyes are focused on you, just like you asked him to: they are completely blown out, his angelic face has a cherry red hue on his cheeks, and his lips are slightly puffy due to his constant biting in them.

When your tongue gently wraps around the tip and sucks on it harshly, squeezing with your hand the base of his dick (just how he likes it) his onyx irises roll in the back of his skull and his hand goes straight to his mouth, muffling with a hum one of his pretty moans.

Just when you take him deeper, your ears are blessed with his unfiltered voice, a desperate call of your name: you can feel his hardness make its way down your throat gradually, and the salty taste of his pre on your taste buds makes you salivate.

Just when his cock touches the back of your throat your eyes water and not because of the burning sensation or the ache of your jaw but because of his goddamn pretty face.

Manjiro's wet liquorice hair is sticking to his damp forehead due to the water of the shower he took; onyx orbs are staring deeply into your soul, flickering up and down your face not knowing where to focus; sweat is dripping down his defined jaw and sliding on his bobbing adam apple every time he gulps; his black undershirt is sticking to his string chest; his tattooed neck is stretched to the side as he can barely keep his head up due to how good you're making him feel.

He's a masterpiece and he's all yours.

"Baby... Y-You're taking it so fucking deep– oh fuck!"

It wouldn't take long for you to bob your head according to his liking when his calloused hand touches your cheek and smoothly runs up through your hair, gripping it slightly so it won't cover your eyes.

The burn in your throat might be becoming unbearable but having your man scream your name endlessly is what keeps you up: his whole attention is on you, you're the only one he's thinking about, you're the only one he's feeling.

You can feel him throb against the walls of your mouth, his veins pulsating underneath your skilled tongue: you take him out with a slurping sound and begin to fist his cock, squeezing the tip and gripping the base, fiddling with his balls, wanting to coo at him as a last push. Your sugar-coated sweet-nothings are the most sincere as you look into his eyes with heart-shaped ones almost: good boy, I love you, baby, this is all for you.

After a dark time that day, he's finally seeing stars.

Mikey's orbs shine with the tears that roll down his burning cheeks, his voice is desperate and whiny, unable to keep up with the pace you're setting just for him.

Wet, squelching sounds that echo through his ears along with your praises are like a melody and when his hand comes on top of yours as you keep on moving it fast, you know you've done the trick.

"Ah– oh, shit! B-baby, I- I'm- I- please".

As you kiss lovingly his inner thigh which is decorated with every shade of red because of the blooming love marks you gave him, he feels a shock of electricity run down his spine.

As a blissed cry of your name booms out of his chest, his eyes scrunch shut and his head gets thrown back, you're already there to put your mouth on his throbbing tip and keep his love seed into your mouth, safe and sound.

He takes a while to calm down, but when he does he doesn't hesitate to get you on his lap and hug you close, whispering with a heavy breath how much he loves you, how grateful he is for having you by his side and an endless string of thank you.

You're both dripping in sweat, fuming due to the heated act you had so the sudden thin, delicate breeze that comes in from the bathroom door makes you sigh contently.

Manjiro's the one to speak first "I guess we need to shower again", he chuckles... His genuine laugh makes your lips curl into a fond smile as you take his hand in yours and kiss his knuckles gently.

"I'll do it with you so I'll keep the bad thoughts away this time".

He loved the sound of that.

I'm experimenting with new kinds of writing so I don't know how I feel about this drabble: it was simply living in my head rent-free–

I hope you enjoyed reading this drabble!

English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes!

Sending y'all hugs. ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

©GOLDENGIRLIEZ do not repost or modify on any platform.

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dorkszn · 4 months

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THOSE GUYS WHO just bite you all the time, for absolutely no reason. kissing? he nibbles your bottom lip, grinning and laughing when you glare at him. cuddling? he’s biting anywhere he gets access to and grumbling when you swat at him. it’s get to the point where your skin is more covered with bite marks than not. everywhere. you put a hand over his mouth, he’s opening his mouth immediately and chomping down on your fingers. you found it cute at first and you still do but sometimes you just have to drag them pull their hair to get em to stop.

hobie brown, toji fushiguro, baji keisuke, and the rest of your favs

#dorkszn #dorkfilmz #spiderman #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #tokyo revengers #baji keisuke #baji keisuke x reader #baji keisuke x you #anime drabble #anime x reader #anime fluff

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strawberryfairi · 5 months

Text

Falling Asleep Together | Keisuke Baji

★Black Fem Reader One shot❤️‍🔥 ★ Fluff; Baji being demanding and pouty; you just trying to do your hair for the night; nighttime routine; sleepy Baji; pure cuteness

"What are you doing in there still?" Keisuke groans from the bedroom, dragging himself over to the connected bathroom where you were still doing your nighttime routine.

"I told you hold on; I'll be there in a sec." You chuckle, eyes locked onto your hair through the mirror.

All you were doing was putting up your hair for the night, braiding multiple sections so you could protect your hair while you sleep, and then take them down in the morning back into your fluffy afro braid out.

"It's been like fifteen minutes; you're in here havin' a whole...spa treatment." He scrunches his face up trying to find the right descriptive word, gesturing around the whole bathroom with a hand.

"It ain’t been no fifteen minutes. I got like maybe three pieces left so just hang on; almost done." You assure with a light laugh, getting to work splitting a big section of hair into two in the front.

"You always love my hair but you hate when I gotta actually do it." You murmur, glancing over at his tired, pouty face. He grunts in response, leaning his head against the doorframe while watching you do your thing.

Even though it bothers Kei, you really love moments like this with him, when he's all eager and whiny for you to come to bed. Usually after his rushing he'll go silent just like right now, watching you skillfully braid your hair, mesmerized at how meticulous you are.

He's learned the process by now. First you make the main sections, then part them again for two chunky braids per section. Then you grab your favorite Jamaican black castor oil water, misting your hair lightly in the section before you add that amazing smelling leave-in conditioner that he loves to sniff every time you use it.

Once those two main steps are done, you rub some Argan oil in your hands and run it through your hair before finally making the braid.

He had to admit he could absolutely never spend this much time on his own hair every single day and night. In his eyes, the nighttime routine alone was ridiculously long, and particular, and just..long!

Keisuke's never really been a patient kind of guy, so having someone like you around was honestly good for him. You were patient with everything. Your hair, your nails, cooking, even patient with him! It's one of the main things he loves about you. You level him out, it's perfect.

"Look, see? Boom. That wasn't that long at all; I'm done!" You beam, turning around to look at him face to face instead of through the mirror.

Your hands were covered in product, along with that brush he always seems to forget the name of-dannin? Debberman? Denman! Right the denman brush. Pieces of your little coils wrapped around the brush and your fingers like snakes.

Keisuke grunts tiredly in response, his eyes halfway open at this point. If he could sleep standing up he absolutely would be passed out right in this doorway.

"You're a mess..." You smile softly, shaking your head as you turn the sink faucet on, washing the products off your hands and hairbrush.

About five minutes after you clean up in the bathroom, you're finally in the bed, putting your scarf and cute lime green bonnet on.

"Sheesh, only took forever and a day." Kei grumbles lowly, brows furrowed as he pulls you down onto the pillow next to him, cuddling up close against you with your back resting perfectly on his chest. The two of you sigh in content, little tired smiles on both of your faces as you drift off into a deep sleep.

****************************************************

A/N❤️‍🔥 I felt so warm and fuzzy writing this omg. Poor Kei just trynna go to sleep for real

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softxsuki · 4 months

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Hello, congratulations on your milestone!!! I am not sure if there are any spots left, but if there are, can you please do the trope enemies to lovers with a tokyo revengers character? Have a nice day and congratulations again!!!

1.5k Follower Event Trope #1 Tokyo Revengers

Trope 1: Enemies to Lovers

This event is now CLOSED. You can check out the masterlist for this event here.

Warnings: Slight mention of violence and being killed (baji says it once, no one actually dies)

Note: Thank you so much! I had this one sitting in my google docs for while because I didn't like it, but I reread it today and I think it grew on me after letting it sit there for a while lol. Enjoy :D

“Why are you here again?” Baji spits, not impressed at all.

You were another person Mikey had dragged in, finding you interesting and deeming you both friends, not that you minded. You hadn’t joined Toman, but Mikey always invited you over to their base, and you quickly became fond of many of them, including a certain black-haired man that couldn’t find it in him to accept you.

“Still suspicious of me? Seriously Kei, ever thought about loosening up?” You question, walking past him.

The nickname makes Baji’s heart flutter slighty, much to him mentally refusing to acknowledge it. “Oi, I told you about calling me that name. Stop acting like we’re so close to each other! I don’t want you here,” he grits, hating how unfazed you were by his ‘hatred’ for you.

“Yeah yeah, I know you like it,” you tease, disappearing down the stairs to head back home for the day.

Since the first time Mikey introduced you to everyone, Baji had his suspicions about you. How could everyone just openly accept you to hang around them and listen in on their meetings? What if you were working for a rival gang, showing up to get intel for them? Why was he the only one suspicious of you? And why did you have such an affect on him? Your carefree attitude, your disregard for being surrounded by dangerous men. He felt so conflicted.

The longer you hung around, the more he let his walls fall, yet he kept that stubborn, rudeness whenever you were with him. He refused to show that he had somewhat trusted you, let alone that he may or may not have a thing for you–though he’d never admit that to anyone, he could barely admit it to himself.

One day though, you had managed to gain all his trust. You had found a sneaky rat from a rival gang sneaking around Toman’s grounds, just looking for trouble. Could you fight? No. Were you still going to call him out and try and get him to leave? Yes.

You approach the man and begin to threaten him, talking big for someone who couldn’t defend themselves. Baji was watching the whole thing go down from afar. A tinge of suspicion grew as he watched you approach the man who was clearly up to no good and didn’t belong with Toman, but that all vanished as soon as he saw you try and make him leave.

“That idiot,” he grunts to himself, tying his hair up as he makes his way over to you, arriving just in time as the guy goes to throw a punch your way.

Baji quickly pushes you out of the way, and easily beats the guy up, mentally making a note of the gang attire he wore so he could inform Mikey of the situation later.

“Are you insane? It’s like you were just asking to get killed! You should have just shouted for one of us to help, we’d be able to hear you if you screamed loud enough. What kind of idiot who knows they’re weak, tries to fight someone off alone?” Baji went on and on, telling you off, yet all you could do was smile at him.

“Stop looking at me like that with that stupid grin, it isn’t funny”

“Heh, you care about me,” you smirk, egging him on.

“Of cour- What?! NO! No, I don't. What made you ever come to that conclusion?” He screamed, his face growing red at his almost confession. Why were you so irritatingly cute?

He could deny it all he wanted, but it was obvious how he felt for you. Now knowing that he could trust you, he started hanging around you more often. And after a few more months, he became the one who’d invite you over.

“You know…you could just ask me out instead of staring at me all the time. I’d say yes.” You say from beside him, feeling his eyes on you as you sit side by side on the shrine steps.

“What?! I-” He groans, feeling stupid that he was so obvious. With a sigh, he looks away from you. “Then let’s date.”

You didn’t expect him to actually go along with it. Who knew the man who had hated you so much would be secretly admiring you and finally have the guts to ask you out.

“Sure,” you shrug, feeling your own face heat up.

It would take some time to fully warm up, but dating was the first step, a large step from where you’d been with each other before.

Posted: 1/2/2024

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shoyoist · 1 year

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seeing timeskip baji just makes me think of him dragging you into the closest bathroom at mich’s wedding to have a quickie because he’s so overwhelmed by all the love present and you just look so pretty :( so pussydrunk he practically proposes to you while he’s ball deep in you </3

content: unprotected sex, pretty much what venus's ask says. we get a drabble bec i wrote 2 much for it to be just an answered ask (⁠ ⁠´⁠v . v⁠`⁠)

— . ｡˚ ♡ turns out baji gets a lil swayed by romantic environments.

you're so right; everyone's talking abt how sweet the newly wedded couple is, how lovely hina looks in her dress, but baji's fixated on how damn hot you are in your own lil dress.

it's not too fancy (can't be stealing the bride's glory now can you?) but it hugs the shape of your body just right, the colour suits your complexion so well, and your makeup brings out your pretty pretty eyes so nicely, you look so good, smell so good—

and when you catch him staring at you while you're watching michi and hina walk down the stairs, you don't notice just how deep and lusty his gaze is. you're too excited for the bride and groom at the moment.

all you give him is a giddy little smile and a giggle — but even that is just so cute, baji can't take it anymore. he wants you right then and there, drags you into the bathroom & flips your skirt up, tugs your panties aside, and gets his fingers right in without any time wasted.

and when he lets out a deep, stuttered groan at the feel of your tight, wet cunt — that's when you get just how much he needs you right now. "aw, keisuke, you want me that bad?"

yes, he thinks. fuck yes. "shut it, princess."

fucks you against the sink, loving how you're grabbing onto the counter for dear life, prettily painted nails skittering over the tiles as you try to hold on while he's hitting it from the back, hard.

he doesn't think about the fact that you'll both have to get back out there right after this, that you probably shouldn't be making a mess of eachother.

that he probably shouldn't be kissing you so hard your lipstick gets smeared all across your mouth and on his own.

and he doesn't let you think about it either.

grabs your throat and pulls you right up against his chest, and whispers while he slides his cock hilt deep into you, hips flush against your ass, "yeah, princess? ya like this, ah? want me to fuck ya like this every day? fuck— so fuckin' pretty today, wanna make you mine — my fuckin' wife."

your cunt squeezes around him when he says the last word, the way it comes out as a growl is so enticing to begin with, sending shivers up your spine and sending bliss into your veins when he thrusts into you at the same time, your velvet walls hugging him so tight—

and he cums, hot seed filling your pussy up and dripping out, trailing down your legs as he keeps fucking up into you, groaning out cusses and sweet nothings into the nape of your neck as he gets through his high.

"fuckin hell, princess—'s might be stupidmichi's wedding today, but it's gonna be mine and yours real soon, alright?"

"mmm, our wedding?" you whine, wanting to cum, sighing happily when baji's hand comes around to press two digits into your clit.

"yeah, that's right." he rasps, breath hot against your neck, cum sticky between your legs. "our wedding. i'll make you my wife real soon, 'kay?"

and as your own orgasm washes over you, quick and sharp at the behest of the circles he's rubbing into your clit, all you can bring yourself to give him in reply is a giddy, drawn out moan. "m—mhmm<33"

#₊˚ପ⊹ REKHA™.#₊˚ପ⊹ NYCHTA.#baji smut #baji x reader #tokyo revengers smut #baji keisuke smut #baji keisuke x reader #tokyo revengers spoilers #tagging that just in case #tokyo revengers x reader #tr smut #tr x reader #baji headcanons #baji drabbles #tokyo revengers drabbles #tokyo revengers headcanons

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bxd-decisions · 1 year

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Baji loves to throw rocks at your window — it's normal the middle of the night and when you finally decide to answer, he makes you sneak out, even in your pajamas, for a nice long ride. He even gives you his toman jacket to keep you warm because he knows it's cold. Expect to spend long nights in an abandoned warehouse, cuddled up in his arms and him telling you how much you mean to him. He loves to kiss you too, his kisses are like... Honey. Sweet, irresistible and addictive.

Baji also sometimes drags you alone to toman meetings, just because he loves to show you off, and more than once, the guy has made out with you during a meeting because he just can't resist. He wants everyone to know who you belong to.

Some nights you both just spend, in each other's arms, even if it's not comfortable, in the old and dusty building, but it's comfortable with him, he always makes things perfect. The next days never matter to you, no matter how much trouble you'd be in for sneaking out.

TAGS: @tokyometronetwork @benkeibear @bajiissofine @tokyorevengersslut69

#nora's writing #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo revengers drabble #tokyo rev drabble #baji #keisuke baji #baji x reader #baji fluff #baji drabble #keisuke baji x reader #keisuke baji fluff #keisuke baji drabble #tokyometronetwork

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cheesus-doodles · 5 months

Text

Chapter 7: Swallow the Sun

Former Gang Leader Darling AU (Red Dragonflies)

Red Dragonflies Masterlist | Masterlist | Ao3 Link for the Sane

‎

The silence that filled the room was palpable, in every sense of the word. It weighed heavy on your shoulders, the air thick and heavy with every breath becoming harder and harder to take, the tension that clogged your lungs almost as if it was an invisible viscous liquid dripping from the ceiling and slowly filling the room. You never liked the feeling that crept like an eerie fog up your legs despite having gotten well acquainted with it by now; just the life of a negotiator you supposed, more so when the parties involved tend to be hot-headed and overly-excitable delinquent gang leaders faced with difficult decisions.

Time felt like it had come to a crawl as the world held its breath. It was an unusually quiet afternoon for the city of Shinagawa, the usual hum of traffic buzzing down the nearby downtown area noticeably missing from the background hum. Even the wind that rattled the clear windows lining one wall just prior to the Black Dragons’ arrival had faded away into a cloudless sky, leaving just the uncaring sun watching on mercilessly. But you didn’t rush, didn’t try to hurry the other party who seemed to have frozen in place, Taiju simply wordlessly staring you down with those beastly yellow eyes, the lack of emotions on his face a heart-racing sight for a lesser delinquent, while Inupi and Koko flanking him were outright gaping at you with their shock worn on their sleeves.

The calm before the storm. You understood what you were asking - no, demanding - from them. Well aware of the implication and the loaded threat that your words carried, it wasn't an if but a when and how the Black Dragons were going to be merged into your own gang, whether they wanted it to happen or not. Yet, despite the seemingly sudden nature of this meeting with Taiju, you knew that this had been really a long time coming. All these years you had watched silently from the sidelines as Shinichiro’s gang was ran into the ground by unworthy leaders, its name and reputation tainted and soiled; this was simply the final straw, and no longer were you going to let his good name be sullied any more: at least you could hold your head high and say that you upheld your oath. Quashing down the surging memories of the equally horrid direction that Izana had led the gang down during his time at the head of the Black Dragons, you turned your attention back to the painful, painful waiting: not that you didn’t want to think of the underground smuggling ring or the crime-for-hire that your former lover ran, but it wasn’t an issue to solve at this point.

The oppressive stillness seemed to stretch on, each passing second amplifying the sense of anticipation, as if the room itself were counting down to the inevitable release and the coming explosion. And oh how you hated to wait - the unpredictability of what was to come was like daggers in your skin. There was truly nothing worse than being caught off guard; you had learnt that lesson the hard way multiple times before. At least even in these turbulent minutes you mused, you could count on the rhythmic sound of Furusawa’s heavy breathing from behind you to keep you grounded as you waited, a reassurance that your best friend was there to back you up regardless of how this nasty business turned out.

In an instance, the momentary tranquility shattered, and reality came crashing back down. “What the fuck did you just say?!” His words came out almost like a hiss as Taiju leaned forward, open palm slamming down onto the abused coffee table that separated you and him, the vein on his forehead seemingly throbbing more than usual as the blue-haired boy gritted his teeth.

Pulling yourself out from your thoughts, you leveled your gaze at the gang leader who sat from across you, turning your full attention back to the present. This wasn’t the right time to be nostalgic about the past or ponder the future. “Should I repeat myself?” You raised one questioning eyebrow. No, it was time to play.

“You’re taking me as a fool? Huh?!” He sneered, teeth bared. “Merge my gang under yours? This a fucking game to you, little girl?”

The taunt failed to rile you up enough, even if the strong emphasis on the Black Dragons being his did send a flash of irritation through your chest. No, the gang had never been his. It was Shinichiro’s and Takeomi’s, Wakasa’s and Benkei’s. Taiju was simply another steward for their legendary legacy, just like Izzy had been. Not his. A quick glance at Inupi and you saw the same turmoil in those blue eyes, but you swallowed the rising annoyance. You had worse thrown your way before. “Surely you can’t be suggesting something so vile, Taiju-san,” Bending over slightly to lightly pick your full cup off of the coffee table, you continued, your voice as even as the color of a cloudless midday sky. “I have never messed around in meetings, and never will. This is serious business.”

His tiger eyes seemed to glimmer and glint from the sunlight that filtered through the large window panes, as if simply waiting for a chance to tear into you. To eat you alive. “Then what the fuck are you trying to say?”

You sighed, unimpressed with the lack of tact on show. You didn’t fear the newest of the Black Dragon Presidents, not in the slightest, but you could at least empathize with his poor victims; this man left little room for negotiation for those who lived in his shadow. Fortunately, you did not. “I’m sure you understood me perfectly fine, Taiju-san.” Leaning back onto your chair and taking a sip of your tea, you continued to meet his infuriated stare from the brim of your cup with barely a blink. Deciding that this little dance was going nowhere, you forged ahead. “You must have heard of the brewing storm coming your way.”

Taiju didn’t seem the least bit phased. “You mean that 8th Generation Black Dragon leader? Izana?” Scoffing, the blue-haired boy flicked his hand nonchalantly, as if waving off the fly he thought Izana would be. “Won’t be the slightest issue, dealing with that rat.”

You hummed, a low, single-toned haunting note. “I wouldn’t be too sure. Izana’s a lot stronger than he looks.” A fact that you knew firsthand and all too well - even you wouldn’t be able to take him down alone, with or without the handicaps he would give you.

Silence fell over the room once again, those shaking, balled-up fists told you everything you needed to know. Consumed by anger and preferring to speak with his fists, you noted to yourself, and you wondered if you would have gotten further along if you had just let Furu at him from the start. Maybe you should now in fact - this particular meeting of leaders is coming along much rougher than you had hoped, and your precious free time was slowly but surely ticking down the drain. Yes, it was indeed time to instigate, even if you did risk another human-sized hole in your walls. Pulling yourself back up, placing your cup gingerly back down at the coffee table with a clink as porcelain met porcelain. “What I have been trying to say is,” you leaned forward, head cocked slightly to the side as a small taunting smile began to pull at your lips. “The Black Dragons are far too important to me to let you lose.”

And that was all it took.

‎

Inupi had been looking forward to meeting you again for a very long time. He hadn’t been sure if he would ever be given the opportunity to do so, after everything that had gone down two years ago and you had evaporated into thin air after abruptly retiring, but now here you were. You looked so similar from when he had last seen you standing side by side with Izana, sans the physical growth, you had barely changed - but the weariness in your eyes. The sheer exhaustion that tainted your once lively eyes, it seemed to have only increased and intensified as the years went by; there was no doubt even with all he had witnessed in his life, those eyes had already experienced so much more. An old soul trapped in a young body was what you were, though it wasn’t hard for the Black Dragon member to remember the times that you had away from such heavy gang duties or the times you had spent with your now ex-boyfriend; the times when your eyes would light up as if fireworks against the dark winter sky, and your youth would come rushing back into that gaze like an water out of an opened dam.

Even this infamous meeting room brought back memories; its plush carpet always kept in tiptop condition, the eternal dance of the cranes across the walls, and the homely, worn wooden coffee table that was the centerpiece of the room. After all, the former Black Dragon Vice Captain had once spent hours within these four walls, locked at attention while watching over meetings where you and Izana poured over gang matters and strategies. Not too different from what was happening now, Inupi supposed, crystal blue eyes sliding to glance at the head of alternating blue and white hair that now occupied the sofa opposite of you.

But you always had this presence about you; not those heavy types like Taiju’s, one that commanded fear and attention. No, you had a different type of draw; you brought a sense of closure. An unyielding, constant pressure that meetings in your presence, be it in a room or on the battlefield, will one way or another be brought to a close, with the type of ending they get being left up to your unfortunate victims to decide.

The stoic mask the blond-haired delinquent wore threatened to break when your gaze landed on him, and your lips twitched upwards ever so slightly as you greeted him, but through sheer self-control, he had managed to simply acknowledge your attention. Now standing in your presence once more, Inupi could only wish it was you that he had approached for help with reviving the Black Dragons - the gang would have greatly benefited from a calm and experienced hand at the helm if you hadn’t upped and vanished immediately after you resigned from your beloved Reds.

And it only grew clearer and clearer that mistakes had been made as the meeting dragged on. Hearing you all but order Taiju into giving up the Black Dragons to you was the straw that broke the camel’s back, a gut punch that Inupi struggled to keep his face straight through; the reason they were here was because of his failure. There was no doubt that a lifelong delinquent like Izana’s former right-hand man had not heard the rumors swirling around about his old boss, and you being here to rescue his beloved gang from the depths of the pit he had dug them into only served to highlight one fact. Too important to let them - to let him - lose the gang: you were here because of his failure that started all the way back with the end of the Eighth Generation of Black Dragons.

Failure to protest harder against Shion being Izana’s successor, failure to pick a better boss to follow, failure to do better: there was no other way to put it. He had failed Izana, failed Shinichiro, failed the once-pristine legacy of the Black Dragons again and again. Scars and sins that he carried, that he once hoped he could lay bare before you, for the infamous Negotiator to wash it all away; but not like this.

‎

Koko must have noticed the turmoil brewing right under those usually impassive eyes, the financier glancing over in his direction with furrowed eyebrows.

Right as his black-haired friend was about to ask, the entire mood changed, and those almond eyes snapped right back towards the silent, tense standoff that dominated the room. In that moment, the universe felt as if it had collapsed in on Inupi’s gut, the flare of desperate screams to move, to fight, to duck from the back of his head overwhelming each and every one of his senses. But there was no time to react. The sunflower-blond boy wasn't sure what had happened, or who was faster. It was as if both Taiju and Furusawa had moved within the span of a sole heartbeat; a single blink, too fast for him to even catch; and the next thing he knew, his entire view of you was filled by the jarring red of Furusawa’s jacket and the black of his shirt, the draft he generated whipping his jacket backwards. An ominous creak of wood, and Inupi chanced a quick glance upwards - and there, held above your Vice Captain’s head with a sole hand was the other half of your beloved camelback sofa set that Taiju had been sitting on just seconds earlier, its shadow eclipsing the ceiling light around where you sat.

Silence consumed everyone present, as if the room was suddenly emptied of air. Inupi barely dared to breathe should break the temporary peace, blue shaky eyes darting between the brown and pink-haired man and Taiju belied the neutral, unmoved expression Inupi wore. What happened?

Chocolate eyes met yellow ones easily, with neither party willing to back down. The sight of the sofa failing to reach its intended target, however, didn’t seem to be enough of a deterrent to any further rash actions, as Inupi watched the Tenth Generation Black Dragon President reach for the walnut coffee table with the definite intent to hurl that as well, the telltale veins on his forehead throbbing with every heartbeat.

This time though, Furusawa was faster. A loud thud shattered the silence as a steel-toed boot came crashing down, the worn wood beneath letting out a groan at the sudden impact as it was pinned back down firmly to the carpet, a force too strong even for Taiju’s usually imposing strength to overcome. “Wanna take this outside, punk?” The Beast of the Underworld grinned as he leaned forward, that usual friendly, oblivious smile Inupi remembered having turned rather sinister, his sharp canines glinting even under the warm ceiling lights. “I can take you out right now. Makes Boss’ job a lot easier too.”

It was a threat as clear as the sun rising at midnight, and no doubt Furusawa could back it up and come out the other end without missing a breath off; not only was it well know within delinquent circles how monstrous your Vice Captain was, but also how much the man was always itching for a fight. The mere memory of the last fight Inupi had witnessed years ago where this fighting behemoth decided he was bored and decimated an entire gang himself - he would rather avoid that happening to him at all costs. The logo of the white dragonfly neatly embroidered on the breast of Furusawa’s red jacket was as much a threat as it was a reminder for everyone else to thread carefully: this was still the heart of the Red Dragonflies’ territory, and no matter the supposed strength of the latest generation of Black Dragons, you had historically always came out on top. Results speak for themselves.

And for all the ongoings around you, your small figure remained unmoved. Fingers tapping rhythmically on one knee of your neatly crossed legs as your gaze flittered between the four boys with not a single hair out of place; your continued composure in the face of imminent danger was just one of the things that Inupi had always admired about you. That, and the full trust you always had in your right-hand man and Vice Captain Mamoru Furusawa for your safety and security - it wasn’t lost on the seasoned delinquent that you hadn’t flinched the slightest bit at the sofa flying your way, making no moves to avoid the threat, let alone dodge. Even Izana would have reacted back in the day, Inupi mused.

You seemed content in letting this little game play out for a while more, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips. Perhaps to sate Taiju’s bloodlust, but he was well past done letting Taiju embarrass the Black Dragons and Shinichiro’s good name any further. This was getting way too out of hand.

‎

Taking a step forward was all that was needed to draw the room’s attention to him, but the Black Dragon second-in-command had his focus squarely on his leader, meeting that tiger gaze unhesitantly. “Stop it Taiju, don’t disrespect her.”

The blue-haired boy seemed to have been slightly taken aback by Inupi’s sudden boldness, his jaw dropping slightly at the open contempt on display from his own subordinate. In front of a rival gang leader, no less. It was provoking the sleeping dragon, that was for sure, but there was little else Inupi could think to do in the moment. Or maybe he should have sat back and let Taiju be utterly annihilated by Furusawa? A chanced look at you revealed that unlike Taiju, you weren’t caught off guard, somehow having expected that it would have been Inupi who stepped up, though seemingly disappointed at the same time for reasons beyond him. Had you been hoping for a different outcome? Something more out of him?

But unfortunately, the sunflower-blond delinquent didn’t have much time to consider this line of thinking any further as Taiju’s stunned state didn’t last long, and the historically violent and short-tempered Shiba emerged predictably into a state of utter rage. And as said gang leader turned bodily to face his rebellious subject, Inupi found himself dwarfed once more by the other’s large stature, and the memories of when he had first challenged Taiju in his search for a new Black Dragon leader came flooding back, though he didn’t take a single step back.

Taiju’s words came out as a hiss. “What’s the meaning of this, Inui?” Fist tightening to the point that his knuckles turned white, there was little chance that the boss was anything but furious.

Inupi refused to back down. “You’re not going to win this. Don’t embarrass the gang any further.”

“How dare you?”

This was it, Inupi supposed, mulling over what he had said. With you on the other side of the table this time round, he didn’t suppose he could rely on your intervention, and he wouldn’t count on surviving Taiju’s wrath. Yet much to his surprise, instead of the thrashing he expected, another voice that had stayed silent now interjected before the blue-haired gang leader could make a move. “Lay a hand on him and I’m out,” Koko threatened, his tone pointed as the infamous financier took a step forward, putting himself between the two. A valid threat. After all, there was no way Taiju could afford to run a gang like the Black Dragons without Koko’s legendary finance skills bringing in extra income and jobs.

For all the threats and posturing, the oldest of the Shibas still seemed unmoved, a disparaging curling his lips as he looked between the two. “And then what will you do, Inupi? Run the Black Dragons yourself?” He laughed humorlessly, the mockery clear. The empty smile dropped as he leaned forward, his shadow casting over the two defiant delinquents. “I’ll burn this whole worthless gang down with me.”

Time slowed to an immediate crawl as those fateful words were left floating in the still air, and as if a heavy, wet coat had been suddenly draped over the room, every breath became a challenge to take as the atmosphere itself seemed to press down on them. Unrestrained bloodlust that tainted his senses with the hint of iron led the Black Dragons back to one single, possible source. Furusawa wasn’t the slightest bit affected by the change in mood, his signature beastly grin plastered across his face, but Inupi knew that look of yours, partially hidden behind your right-hand man’s towering figure. Utter, unbridled rage pouring through your cracked facade that had even Koko stagger a step back. “Worthless?” Hatred, pure and plain, oozing from every pore, burning and consuming those tired, kind eyes. It was the first time Inupi had witnessed it with his own eyes after hearing about it from Izana all those years ago; the legendary other half that had tamed even the Eighth Generation Black Dragon leader

Your sheer contempt for the living. “Worthless?” You repeated, the word seemingly inconceivable to you. Your abhorrence of their continued existence.

“So that’s what you were hiding,” Taiju muttered to himself, his yellow eyes sparking with interest.

As soon as it appeared, the immense pressure evaporated back into thin air like it had never been there, the world seemed to sigh as the whirl of the air-condition once more returned to the background. Taking a breath, your face was once more schooled into that familiar calm expression as you relaxed back against the sofa, the tension in your shoulders gone. Picking up your teacup once more for what should be by now a stone-cold cup of tea, you allowed a small smile to lift the corners of your lips, your gaze landed back on a shaken Inupi. “Time is getting on. Furu, return their sofa to them, would you?”

A tch, but the brown and pink-haired man complied, walking round the coffee table to lightly place the sofa back in its place with nay a thud - a surprise, given he had looked ready to fling the object straight back in Taiju’s face. You waved your hand, drawing the three Black Dragon gazes back on you, though it seemed that both gang leaders present were well past the pleasantries. “I’m sure you have other places to be, Shiba-san, so let’s put it this way. One week to join willingly.”

Taiju scoffed, his vibrant red jacket flaring out behind him as he turned to leave without another word, storming past Inupi and Koko and leaving the meeting room door open as he disappeared round the corner. You simply sighed, your gaze landing on a stoic Inupi and an ashen Koko. “Sorry about that, boys,” you smiled, waving Furusawa forward, though your Vice Captain simply handed a letter to Inupi before backing off. “You should probably be on your way too. Stay safe, okay?”

‎

The hefty wooden door shut softly behind the two Black Dragons, though the click still reverberated through the room, ringing in your ears as you sat in the sudden silence, reflecting on all that had occurred in the past hour. Yet in the moment, all your mind could process was: you shouldn’t have lost control like that. You knew descending in such a state of anger was terrible for your mental health, and your nii-san would be so extremely disappointed if you did something unforgivable again.

You could really use a smoke right now.

You abruptly stood, forcing those useless, churning thoughts down and away from your consciousness, startling your long-time best friend out from his own daydreaming process. “How did you think that went, Furu?” Your voice nor expression gave no hint of the uncertainty brewing just below the surface, though you knew there was no hiding your clenched fingers from those eagle eyes, no matter how you positioned them at your side.

But your right-hand man seemed more occupied with thinking of the could-bes, having clearly been intrigued by Taiju’s raw strength, and the lack of a fight breaking out was no doubt the root cost of the dejectedness on his face. “Went pretty well, I guess,” he mumbled, kicking his feet. “No holes in the walls, nothing broken."

“You don’t sound too happy about that.”

Furu sighed. “That blue-haired dude looked kinda strong. Could have made a great fight.”

You lightly smacked him in the arm. “Not in my meeting room,” you reminded him, attempting to sound cross but utterly failing to do so. “I’m sure you’ll get your chance though,” you added thoughtfully.

That was enough to perk the Vice Captain up, chocolate eyes glinting with eagerness and hope, as if you had just promised the life of another human being to him as a Christmas present. “Really? You think so?”

But those questions only dredged back up the doubts you had suppressed since the start of the meeting; about the effectiveness of what you did, about what you should have done, about your past and the future of the Black Dragons. Sighing, you slumped backwards into the sofa, the soft backing cushion denting and giving way as you did so. “Most likely, given how that went,” you exhaled, turning your eyes up towards the ceiling once more as you ran one hand through your hair. “If Izzy doesn’t get to them first, that is. One week is a long time.”

A pause, your words lingering in the cool air for a moment. And then you continued. “I don’t know, Furu, I still think I should have just ran with my idea of proposing marriage. Would have saved us a lot of trouble.” Your mind wandered back to your precious Toman friends. Another problem you had no clue where to start, let alone solve. Every passing day spent trying to put out the fires of your past was another day letting your treasured relationship with your boys, with Mikey in particular, deteriorate. What else could you do other than try and make it up to them later?

Your Vice Captain was on you in a second, plucking you off your sofa and out of your thoughts by the back of your jacket before you realized what had happened, and earning a decidedly undelinquent-like eep from you. “Furu! Put me down!” You tried to insist, a 180 degree change from the refined gang leader facade you had donned just minutes earlier, but the much larger man was nonplussed.

"I'll kill him," Furusawa swore, the obliviousness that usually glazed his eyes having given way to a rare serious expression, and the lack of his usual playful lilt was enough to convey the gravity of your words. “I'll kill and eat that motherfucker if you ever say that again.”

You think that you’ve only seen the man so stern once before. Those chocolate eyes seemed intent on boring a hole straight into your soul, you mused, sighing as you threw both hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t mention it again.”

“And you won’t go behind our backs either?”

Touche. “I swear I won’t,” you crossed your heart. “Happy?”

Somewhat pacified, the brown and pink-haired man lowered you carefully back onto your two feet, though his grumpiness hadn’t disappeared completely. "Sometimes I don't think you have anything in there, Boss."

You playfully smacked him. You had, after all, told them what happened with Izzy when you met him against their advice four days earlier, and much to no one’s surprise, the meeting hadn’t gone as planned in the slightest without your usual chaperones present. Even hearing that Izana wanted to wed you immediately and went straight to violence after you refused failed to raise an eyebrow, Hase opting to simply let out a despairing groan while Koji threw up his hands in exasperation. What they said was completely true: you were way too personally involved to make sound decisions when it came to anything related to Izzy, and you shouldn’t have. Yet the lingering doubt refused to let go. "But what if-"

"We will handle it. Like we always do," Furusawa interjected. “You’re not alone.”

The grin you shone at your oldest friend was genuine as you leaned into his side. "Thanks Furu." As usual, your wiser friends were right.

“Anytime, Boss.” A grumble of his stomach broke the peace, and you laughed. Time for lunch with the others.

‎

Across town and just as you first waved the Tenth Generation Black Dragon leader through the ornately carved doors of your famed meeting room, a certain blond-haired time leaper was knee-deep living his most miserable past yet.

“Get up.”

Takemichi barely registered the nudge to his side, too busy ensuring that his chest kept heaving along through the throbbing pain as he struggled to catch his breath. Sprawled spread-eagle across the blood-splattered canvas floor of the fighting ring, it was only the rank, foul odor of sweat, blood and god-only knows what else - soaked up from a filthy past of countless fights and fermented in the summer heat - radiating up that kept him still clinging on to consciousness. Only the dead could sleep through a stink like that. Yet no smell could help with rebooting his shaken brain still rattling around his head from all the throwing around he had just endured.

Unfortunately, Hase didn’t seem as inclined to indulge his self-pity party nor give a second chance, and the next ‘nudge’ was instead a firm kick to his side, enough to roll Takemichi over several times and face first straight into the metal cage that separated this ring of hell from the outside world. “I’m not repeating myself,” came his drawl, followed by the familiar click of a lighter and the stinging smell of cigarette smoke that pierced his nose.

A snort off from the side. “Think you might have killed him,” Jun complained, his tone clearly bored as he lightly smacked his baseball bat against his calf. A pause. “That might be a boon though. Changing the future and all.”

Scratch that, his death wasn’t even an inconvenience. He could cry right now. He really could. Even Mikey didn’t waste his time finding nobodies to beat up for the hell of it. How was it that your brutal, heartless captains were so vastly different from kind, caring you? How is it you hadn’t yet been eaten alive by these monsters in human skin? Were you perhaps as much a monster as them? The mere idea of you staring down at Takemichi like Mikey did, with cold, empty eyes, sent a shiver down his spine, and he pushed the thought to the back of his head. No, there was no way you could hide something so sinister, not how genuine that gaze of yours had been or how sincere you were about your care towards your friends.

Then again, Mikey hasn’t had to shake the truth out from him just yet, and you weren’t particularly interested in digging those secrets out yourself either. Takemichi sighed, resigning himself to his fate. It wasn’t as if he could get his answers at the moment, and so albeit the reluctance and the protests of his body, the blond-haired boy pulled himself up from the well worn tarp, biting back the tears as he somehow managed to twist his bruised self into a sitting position, resting against the crisscrossing bars. Risking what Hase would do to him if he didn’t obey was just one more thing that Takemichi did not want to test - he might actually die if he gets tossed across the ring again.

“I’m up, I’m up,” the time traveler hastily reassured through swollen, bleeding lips, though it was more to convince himself than the other two seasoned gangsters as he carefully shuffled black and blue limbs around in an attempt to make things more comfortable. Dressed in just his sports shorts, he already made for quite the pathetic sight, with clear purple-and-black bruises decorated his upper chest, arms and legs, and this was barely helped by just how scrawny Takemichi looked next to the much taller and well-built Hase.

Hase, himself clothed in a simple shirt and shorts and with bandages wrapped around bare hands and feet, only rolled his eyes at the carefulness in which Takemichi picked himself off the floor, those dull gray eyes glaring down at him with disdain as he brought his cigarette up to his lips for another drag. “Nothing’s broken, stand.”

“But everything hurts,” Takemichi mumbled, the sharp flashes of agony that had rippled through his body from being beaten and thrown around having finally died down to a throb that radiated from his chest with every breath. How was it that he constantly finds himself in these sorts of situations? All he ever wanted to do was to save Hina from her unfortunate, undeserving destiny, was that too much to ask? Well, save Hina, Naoto, Mikey, and the rest of his newfound Toman friends, but still.

It had been a mere four days since you first waltzed into his life and class with a letter from the school principal, looking for him, and two since Jun had crashed his class and dragged him off in front of his teacher and all his classmates by the scruff of his neck, having figured through some unknown means that Takemichi was, in fact, a time leaper. And now, four days on from that fateful day, he hadn't even recovered enough from the beating he got from Hase two days prior before being today’s fresh punching bag. A time traveler of twelve years he was, but even now, Takemichi wished he had the ability to reach back just a single day to warn himself of what was to come.

‎

He had almost forgoed school this morning. A bad gut feel, one that was strong enough to cramp up his stomach, making it near impossible for him to roll out of bed; Takemichi couldn’t recall the last time when his body had protested this much against doing something. He knew he should have listened, stayed at home to rest out the pain. It might have been the air being denser than normal, might have been just a bad snack the previous day, or the fact that he was still recovering from the stomp he received courtesy of your Red Dragonflies’ First Division Captain. Whatever it was, Takemichi should have heeded the warning.

But Hina had promised to go out for tea with him after school if he showed up, and the blond-haired boy just wasn’t strong enough to resist. And so against his better judgment, he went anyway.

The ominous rumbling of his stomach a second foreboding time was hard to ignore as Takemichi slipped through the front door of his homeroom class, cutting it close to being late again just as the bell rang through the empty corridors outside. His homeroom teacher shot him a stink eye as he sat down, but with nothing to hold against him, she let him go. At least for those few precious seconds, the time-traveling delinquent recalled, there was peace in his world. Normality had returned, and maybe he could rest for a bit.

A tug at his sleeve. “Hey, Hanagaki-kun.” Followed by the rustle of a piece of paper being slid between tables. “For you.”

Alas, it was the third and final saving grace that fate had attempted to extend his way; the chance to simply ignore the Red Dragonflies’ gang member of a deskmate he had for the remaining five minutes that this period would last before he could make his getaway, but it was too little too late. Blue eyes slipped to meet Suzuki Hisao’s before Takemichi could stop himself, and the boy mentally kicked himself. “Uh- sure. Thanks Suzuki-kun,” he mumbled back, reaching out to quickly grab the offered note, attempting to slip the piece of paper into his pocket without looking. Perhap he could still get himself out of this mess…

“Aren’t you going to read that? It’s from Hase-san, you know.”

Dammit. Why did his usually sleepy classmate have to be so sharp when it came to this? “I was just going to,” came Takemichi’s weak reply, tinted with obvious despair. There was no avoiding or denying what was written in a surprisingly neat print on the inside of the folded scrap paper: an order to meet back at the “same place” at 11am. The same place? As in that dingy underground fight club where he got beat to an inch of his life? Not only had he been there just a single time and had no recollection how to make his own way back to that hellhole, but 11 in the morning was still class time. How was he supposed to up and leave?

The unvocalized frustration painted on his face must have been misinterpreted by Suzuki, because the unusually enthusiastic boy leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper, envy clear in his tone. “So how did you do it?”

Takemichi startled at the sudden interjection to his thoughts, though fortunately, the drone of his homeroom teacher about one topic or another (he wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention) was enough to drown out any sound that escaped his lips. “Sorry?”

“First, Boss comes to seek you out personally, now you’re getting training from Hase-san? Two of the greatest honors. How did you do it?”

Greatest honors? Two? The blond-haired delinquent gave a nervous laugh, eyes shifting away to stare at the ground. Shit. “I-I think there’s been some confusion, a-ahaha…” There was no possible way to break it nicely to the starry-eyed Suzuki that all your Reds wanted with him was to wrangle as much information about the future as they could before discarding his lifeless body. “There’s no training-”

“Hase-san doesn’t train anyone outside of the Wings and his own two Vice Captains,” the Reds’ gang member interjected. “And you’re not even a Red. How’s the training? Are you learning quickly?”

Deciding that he no longer wanted to discuss his upcoming death, Takemichi instead racked his brain for a discussion change. “Uh- Suzuki-kun, don’t you report to Koji-san?”

The awe on his deskmate’s face melted away as the implication of the question set in, giving way to pursed lips and solemn eyes. “Yes, but everyone obeys Hase-san.” A moment’s pause, and then Suzuki hastily corrected himself. “Besides Boss and Furusawa-san, of course.”

Takemichi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Everyone obeys Hase? But isn’t he the First Division Captain?” That would be like expecting Hakkai or Peh to differ to Baji despite them being in different divisions.

“Hase-san’s the First Wing, yes, but he’s also the gang’s de facto commander,” Suzuki explained, keeping his voice down to a quiet mumble that easily blended in with the normal chatter as the homeroom teacher trailed off. “Runs the day-to-day operations for the boss. So if Hase-san gives you an order, you obey. And he personally - personally - asked me to pass you this note and bring you down to the club.”

With that, the excitement came roaring back onto the other’s face, and Takemichi groaned. So much for topic diversion.

As if on cue, the lesson bell rang, its shrill, ear-piercing scream marking the end of both homeroom and this conversation. Suzuki stood, swinging his bag casually over his shoulder. “Right, we’re leaving at 10.15 so make sure your bag is packed then. Hase-san despises tardiness.”

‎

Fuck, he was going to miss his tea with Hina. Lost in his recollections of the recent past, wondering whether Toman or the Red Dragonflies were the worse gang to be a part of, it was the new shadow falling over him that finally tore Takemichi from his memories and musings, though it was too late to avoid the hand that wrapped itself around the scruff of his neck, bodily lifting him from where he had been slumped against the fighting ring’s cage. "No speed, no technique, no strength,” Hase noted blandly, the smoldering cigarette held between chapped lips uncomfortably close to Takemichi’s skin as the older man gave him a once over before dropping him back on his two aching feet. “Can’t last a minute in a fight."

“Ouch,” Takemichi winced, sharply inhaling through his nose, the pain both physical, from landing on his sore and abraded feet, and emotional, from having the quiet part said out loud. Damn, do your guys really need to poke at his weakness like that?

The protest wasn’t lost on Jun, who snorted, lifting his wooden bat to point directly at him from where the Second Wing was lazily sprawled across several spectator seats. “You can barely throw a fucking punch and you’re still fucking complaining during training?”

“I tried! That wasn’t training, that was a curb stom-“

A loud bang cut Takemichi off before he could finish, and the Toman delinquent whirled around right as Hase lowered his leg from where the thick metal bars of the fighting cage were now clearly indented in the shape of his foot. Said man didn’t even bother sparing a second look, moving to yank a well worn chair to the middle of the ring, but the message was clear. If this had been anything but training, the blond-haired boy would have been dead many times over. “Start off from where you stopped,” the blue-haired First Wing ordered, his weary words as steely as the seat he slumped into, the metal beneath letting out a groan of protest at the sudden weight put on its tired joints.

“Fucking showoff,” the baseball player mumbled, though this was promptly ignored by Hase.

No seat for him? Takemichi sighed, opting to lean back against the cage for a bit of support to take the pressure off his feet. Even if neither of the two were clad in the usual red, he still very much felt the exclusion. “Well, we covered the first future-”

Jun interjected. “Where there was only Mikey and Kisaki are at the top of Toman and no Red Dragonflies, yes. And then the second future, all those clingy Toman motherfuckers are dead, and you got all fucking emotional where you had to kill that fucking Sano, get the fuck on with it.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jun,” Hase snapped irritably, before waving his free hand at Takemichi as he lifted the other to pull the finished cigarette from his mouth. “Start from there, after your return from Manila.”

The Toman member shivered as those dull gray eyes came to rest once more on him: it was the same thousand-yard gaze from the timeline he was about to recall, the same look Hase leveled straight at you as he pulled the trigger. Somehow, those eyes hadn’t changed despite the events of the future being twelve years away; Takemichi could only wonder what the tired man had already seen. Wondered what you had seen - if anything, your eyes looked too awfully similar to Hase’s, for someone so young. Instead, shaking himself back into reality, the time leaper cleared his throat. “Well, after returning to Tokyo, I found out through Naoto that it was someone called Kurokawa Izana who was the boss of Toman alongside Kisaki. I'd never heard of Izana till then, so Naoto had mentioned that he was going to go back to the station to do more digging, but then we were jumped.”

The tap of wood against concrete ceased, and with a shriek of cheap plastic from his protesting chair, the Red Dragonflies’ Second Wing leaned forward, bat now propped up between his legs, black almond eyes fixed unblinkingly on Takemichi. Even Hase seemed intrigued, his posture stiffening - the word ‘jumped’ having caught both their attention.

“We were jumped from behind by you, Hase-san.”

As soon as those words left Takemichi, the loud ‘ha!, followed by the screeching of a chair being forced back nearly gave the Toman member a heart attack, Jun leaping out of his chair and swinging his bat at the First Wing. “I called it! I fucking called it!” He bellowed triumphantly, his screech as piercing as a murder of crows, ringing out over the hum of the large exhaust fans overhead and echoing across the empty betting hall.

But along with that celebration also came a loud groan followed by a thwack as Hase threw his head backwards, bashing it against the metal chair backing, one hand immediately slipping into his pants pocket to pull out that trusty pack of cigarettes. “Fuck me. It had to be me, huh?” The blue-haired man muttered to himself, pulling and pushing a stick into his mouth with a single fluent move.

“I told you I’ll never work for that fucking rat, not even once,” crowed Jun proudly. “Pay up, fucker.”

The other Red executive sighed, and from the other pocket pulled out a wallet. “At least come up to the cage.” Takemichi didn’t catch how much had changed hands, but there was no mistaking the size and color of those 10-thousand yen notes being passed between bars. They were betting on the future? Scratch that, the two of them had guessed enough of what happened to make a bet?

Hase grumbled something about blood money going to idiots, but did not return to his seat, instead opting to lean against the bars of the fight ring, gray eyes now fixed on the blood and sweat splattered canvas floor even as he spoke to Takemichi. “Continue.”

“Um- yes so both of us were knocked out, but you said that it was Kisaki that told you that I would be found easily near Naoto. Next thing I knew, I woke up as I was being dragged by my foot alongside Naoto through the corridors of some penthouse, and then Hase-san pulled us into a bedroom.”

All of the celebratory mood was instantly lost, evaporating into the hot summer afternoon and leaving behind a heavy, tense atmosphere; Jun’s face turned solemn once more, and Hase only seemed to age further under the harsh white lights that flooded down from the ceiling. The time leaper swallowed hard - no doubt they could already sense where this was going. He hurried on. “And Izana was there, on the bed, with- with-” But for all his attempts to just keep going, to tell your Red Dragonflies what they needed to know, it was the image of you that came flooding back into the front of his mind. His words failed him. Those dead glass eyes of yours were still staring straight at him from beyond time, haunting him from his memory.

“With Boss,” Hase finished off Takemichi’s sentence with a mumble, the words slipping from his lips like a prayer.

Takemichi shakily nodded. It was all he had left in him to do, and the boy collapsed back to the ground, his jelly legs finally having given up the last of their strength. Naoto had been right, he bitterly thought as he tried and failed to bite back the tears brimming at the corners of his eyes - this timeline they were headed down was truly the worst future. But what more could he do? The underground ring felt more like a desecrated church in the moment, the enormous concrete bunker forever hidden from the light of the sun falling eerily calm as the sound of the exhaust fans blended into the background, the whistle of wind being forced through narrow gaps under heavy steel doors as if haunted by the ghosts; though from his past lives or of fights past, the time leaper couldn’t tell.

“Keep going. What happened next?”

The rest of the tale spilled out of the weary time leaper as a whisper, but it was enough for the other two present to hear every horrid word and detail relayed: about your scars and bruises and Izana’s obsession over you, about your dead mind still trapped in a living body, about the white-haired man shooting a future Naoto before trying to get you to turn the gun on Takemichi. About how it was Hase that finally put you to rest, about Furusawa’s death by ambush, and then Jun’s and of countless others at said First Wing’s hands, and finally how he had a chance to escape to the past before his own untimely end.

The two older delinquents simply listened on in calm, eerie silence, content with taking in and absorbing the words for now. A tale that was way too specific to be made up yet still lacking a frustrating amount of detail, though neither seemed too bothered by the future Hase’s actions. A moment of silence as Takemichi’s words trailed off, and the three processed everything that had happened so far. The next time Jun spoke up, his tone was completely flat and volume close to conversational, his usual loudness nowhere to be found. “And you say this… Kisaki. He is the one pulling the strings?”

It took Takemichi by surprise, the fact that the loud and crass baseball player could sound so normal, but he still nodded. “Yes, that is what me and Naoto think. Izana mentioned that I was to be Kisaki’s target. And in every future, Kisaki is present as one of the heads of Toman.”

“But so is Mikey,” Hase pointed out. “How do you know it's Kisaki and not Mikey calling the shots?”

The Toman member’s jaw slackened. “But- but-” Takemichi stammered. “Mikey would never do something like that!” The face of the Toman President, framed by blond strands, cuddled into your side and protesting about something inaudible came to the front of his mind, the same boy that would fight through hell and high water for his friends; that Mikey?

An annoyed tap of wood against concrete. “You don’t know that,” the Red Dragonfly’s battle strategist pointed out, his long blond hair flung backwards over a shoulder in an attempt to get the sweat-covered strands out of his face. “That Sano shithead is another persistent factor, plus he’s already a current pest to Boss.”

“It can’t be.” He knew what they were saying was the truth, but still, it wasn’t something that Takemichi could accept - yes, Mikey from the future had been the one committing cold-blooded murder of people he knew and loved, but that wasn’t the real Mikey. That couldn’t be truly the Mikey he knew. “It can’t be Mikey. It has to be Kisaki that made Mikey do it. Or Izana.”

Jun hmmpfed, but fell silent. It was clear that they didn’t trust Toman much either.

Within the cage of the ring, Hase took a drag, exhaling another column of smoke as he pulled the stick from his mouth. “You’re back here to save someone, aren’t you, Hanagaki?”

“H-huh?”

The blue-haired delinquent turned his eyes up towards the giant overhead exhaust fans, the single constant sound that made up the background hum. “That’s why you keep coming back. Someone you lost that you just didn’t have enough time with.” Tired gray eyes turned on Takemichi, that gaze that seemed to see through him and his entire life. A statement, not a question. It was as if he already knew.

Takemichi couldn’t help himself even as he rubbed ever so gently at his tearing eyes. “Hina.”

“A girlfriend.”

“Oh!” A forgotten detail from twelve years later that had eluded Takemichi quickly returned, and the blond-haired boy looked up. “Hase-san, in the future, you had a boyf-“

The smoldering cigarette butt that came hurling straight at him cut any remaining words off, and would have hit him square in the face if Takemichi hadn’t dodged with an eep.

“That’s enough outta you,” Hase muttered, annoyed, even as Jun looked on suspiciously, though the room quickly returned to the topic at hand. “So the kid we’re looking for is a Kisaki Tetta.”

Jun spat, finally standing from the creaky plastic chair with a curse and pulling a flipphone from his back pocket. “I’ll get that name to Masashi, pull everything we got.”

Both sets of eyes once more slid onto Takemichi, and the blond-haired boy recoiled slightly as Hase took a few steps towards the boy, only for the man to stop right before him to crush the finished stick into the canvas. “You keep him away from Toman, Hanagaki,” Hase drawled, turning on his heel and making for the cage door right as the clock that hung on a far wall struck twelve noon. “We’ll take care of the rest once we find that fucker.”

A soft chime, combined with the screeching creek of worn hinges being forced open brought a sense of relief flooding through Takemichi; he hadn’t even realized he had been holding his breath all this time. His hell was over, at least for today. No doubt it’ll still be a tough slog ahead to save everyone that he cared for, but at least for now, of all the people in the world, the time traveling delinquent had come to realize that these two were perhaps exactly who needed to hear what happened. Instead of facing down the future alone, the events today were enough to tell him that they were who he needed on his side to counter Kisaki - maybe they really had a fighting chance. Maybe they could change the future.

“Suzuki Hisao will inform you when the next training is.” And then that eternally unamused voice that only ever carried the promise of more pain floated over from the doorway, and Takemichi immediately groaned. Great, now he regretted thinking all those good things about those two demons you called friends.

Jun didn’t miss the opportunity to rub it in as Hase strolled off, his bat letting out a muffled yet equally threatening thud as the baseball player swung it to rest once more over his shoulder. “Can’t have you fucking die on us again.”

Fuck him sideways.

‎

Looking over Shibuya from the rooftop was a vastly different feeling compared to wandering through the city streets below, Kisaki determined, gray eyes peering out from golden-rimmed glasses gazing down upon the unsuspecting passersby below. A skyscraper roof was one of the last places Kisaki thought of coming, and though he appreciated the silence and the privacy away from the hum and drum of traffic, he still couldn’t quite comprehend what Izana meant by light air pressure. Perhaps it was just a thing about the wind that the other enjoyed.

Yet it was the thought of the white-haired Tenjiku leader that led his mind straight back to you, and that mental image of you huddled tight against Izana’s side four days ago was proving impossible to push from the forefront of his mind. Kisaki hadn’t meant to stalk the two of you all the way to your meeting area - and it wasn’t the smartest decision, given how much trouble he had finding his way back out of the industrial area - but he couldn’t help his curiosity. The insistence with which he held you to his side, Izana's obsession with where you were and who you were with at all times, the gentleness with which he bundled you into his arms, completely contrasted with the dark bruises your former lover left you with the moment you stepped out of line.

Of course, he had already heard of the lingering hushed whispers about you and your formidable well before he ever made the acquaintance of Izana, while he was still chasing the invincible Mikey. Who wouldn’t have, even after the briefest dip of their toe into the delinquent world, even if you had already been away for two years? Hell, the constant rumors swirling on when, not if, you were returning were hard to ignore. But Kisaki could never quite find any trace of you despite having paid a handsome sum for an old photo of you, and neither were the Red Dragonflies accepting new members. So with Toman being the new up and coming gang and its undefeated boss Mikey at its helm, they were who the glasses-touting delinquent decided to go with.

But then out of nowhere you returned and were now back in the game. With what he knew, Kisaki was certain that Mikey and control of Toman were no longer the ultimate prize. No, if he were to stand at the top of the delinquent world, it had to be by your side. Not only were you back at the head of a gang that stated and enforced the rules of the delinquent scene in the Greater Kanto region, but you were now living rent-free in both Izana’s and Mikey’s heads: your presence and absence had a direct effect on the ebb and flow of their lives, and he had witnessed it with his own two eyes. After all, why else would the king of Tenjiku play his hand and risk it all just to get you back to his side? Why did Mikey only give him the time of day in exchange for information about you?

“Plot and play all you like, Kisaki Tetta,” those words echoed in his mind from a not-so-distant past, empty violet eyes staring him down when Kisaki first offered his services to Izana. “Touch her, and I’ll kill you myself.”

Yet despite you seemingly equally enthralled by the two rival gang leaders clad in black and red, making it easy to gain access to you if he stuck with Izana, you were also easily the biggest headache that the blond-haired tanned boy had ever tried to deal with. The Four Wings you surround yourself with, that monster of a right-hand man Mamoru Furusawa, and then for the cherry on top, your extensive network of contacts that spanned every level of society; you yourself were one dangerous foe, and crossing you would not be a fun experience.

Kisaki couldn’t ask for a better target. This win would be exhilarating.

Taking in a deep breath of fresh air, the mastermind exhaled, allowing himself to clear his thoughts of you and instead turn to take stock of and evaluate the day’s events. As per usual, with the news and information he had brought on you, Mikey had indeed deemed it worthy to grant him an audience, and Kisaki thought he had done a pretty good job riling the other boy up - that crease of eyebrows and flash of anger behind usually empty eyes, the lack of hesitation at accepting his offering of a vial of sleeping drugs. All in all, the blond-haired boy thought as he finally stepped back from the edge, turning to return to the building interior, a good day’s work that is enough to consider giving himself a pat on the back.

Needless to say, he would be elated to finally have the chance to meet you face to face soon.

‎

The celebratory mood didn’t transcend well back in Yokohama, where the rest of the notorious S-62 generation had gathered atop a similar skyscraper, the brutal heat of the afternoon sun somewhat dissipated by the constant wind and some shade provided by the towering antenna behind.

“Can’t believe we have to listen to that blonde fuckhead,” Shion complained, letting out a grunt as he slumped onto the concrete slab, free hand swatting at the beads of perspiration rolling down the tattooed side of his head. “Thinking he knows better than me.”

Ran, more comfortably positioned leaning up against a wall, raised one eyebrow at the statement. “Didn’t think that was hard to achieve,” the elder of the Haitanis commented lightly. “Rather low bar, in fact.” Rindo nodded, stoic facade firmly in place despite the clear amusement shining through spectacle-framed violet eyes.

Unluckily for the two, the insult simply bounced off of the former Ninth Generation Black Dragon leader, who shot them an annoyed look. “Don’t ya think it's all junk too? How come he gets to be the boss of us?” A snot, before the boy answered himself. “Fucking no, I say.”

Mochi, who had up till now been sitting cross-legged on the floor, suddenly stood, turning to face Shion with furrowed eyebrows. “Are you questioning Izana’s decision, Shion?” Fighting words that were enough to get the other to backtrack a little, and the conversation on Kisaki quickly died after that. After all, if Izana said so, that it was as such, no matter whether they agreed or disagreed.

The loud, jarring sound of a horn echoed up from congested roads below, cutting through the momentary silence and the peace that the open air brought - it was rare for delinquents like them to have downtime like this, given the conquering mood that their king had been in. To no one’s surprise, it was Shion who once more broke the silence. “I wonder what Izana wants with the Red Dragonflies.”

Rindo let out an unimpressed grunt. “His girl’s the boss,” the younger Haitani stated simply, earning himself an profanity filled exclamation of non-belief from said former Black Dragon President. “I don’t care if you believe it or not, it's true.”

“No fucking way, she left, didn’t she? Quit being a delinquent and all.”

“Not anymore, she returned after the latest president got the boot,” Ran weighed in, backing his younger brother up. “Kicked his ass herself too. We were there.”

“You think we’ll ever meet her?”

Kakucho kept silent, content with simply listening to his fellow executives' increasingly heated discussions about you. He knew better, of course, having been there when Shinichiro first brought you to the detention center to meet Izana, and had been keeping his ear to the ground for news on your movements since then. You hadn’t been worth a glance to the white-haired boy all those years ago, but the same couldn’t be said now, and with how important you were to his hero, his king, as a mere servant, there was no excuse for Kakucho not to know where you were at all times. Yet, above all, the black-haired boy with the scarred eye knew he had an obligation to Izana, to keep his best friend safe, be it from the world or from himself. And whatever Izana thought he was doing with Kisaki in a bid to have you back by his side wasn’t safe - Kisaki wasn’t to be trusted in the slightest, Kakucho knew. He could only hope that his friend would forgive him after the dust has settled for going to you with this information.

‎

Yet unknown to the Tenjiku executives making the most of their downtime away from the troubles of the streets, it was one of many Tenjiku grunts who had the misfortune of tripping over an awkwardly held white cane as a man in sunglasses breezed by, the loud thud of the boy landing on his ass causing the other to come to a stop. “Sorry, did I trip you?”

“Stupid fuck!” The apology was far from well-received, though upon several red-clad delinquents crowding around the offender, it was clear that he was simply blind. “Watch your fucking cane!”

“My sincere apologies,” Koji offered, dressed simply in a black shirt and jeans and a baseball cap, tapping his cane around in a show. “I didn’t mean to.”

At least it seemed the boys were unwilling to let loose on the disabled, and with a few more profanities, they were on their way, none the wiser to the miniature microphone that had been slipped into one unsuspecting jacket pocket. Bingo, the Third Wing amusedly thought as he turned, resuming his stroll down the busy streets of Yokohama City, before turning the corner and disappearing into a side alley. Masashi should have a much easier time with his task now.

‎

“I swear guys, cross my heart, I broke up with Izana two years ago,” you found yourself repeating for the umpteenth time reassuringly, as you bundled a sniffling Kazutora further into your arms, your other arm thrown tightly over Baji’s shoulders. “We aren’t together anymore. I don’t lie, never to you boys.”

“Bbu-but what about those red bastards?” A pathetic tug at your sleeve, as Kazutora sobbed into your chest, your shirt clutched firmly between his fists, a far cry from the rampaging, bone-breaking, unforgiving delinquent he had been just an hour earlier. “You’re going to leave us again,” the boy with the duo-color hair accused, before bursting into tears once more, only for you to smile and run your free hand through his hair.

“I won’t. I really won’t.”

Mitsuya didn’t seem impressed in the slightest, neither by the theatrics nor your answers. “But you were with them earlier this morning,” the Toman Second Division Captain blandly noted. “And you’re still going to meet them tonight. Without us.”

“You also still agreed to meet Izana, where he gave you a wedding ring,” Draken added, the tallest of the boys easily stepping over sprawling legs to pick you up by the back of your shirt, dislodging your clingers and setting you gently back on your own two feet much to the protest of Baji and Kazutora, though the raised eyebrow had you nervously looking away. “That doesn’t sound like breaking up to me.”

You sighed, throwing your hands up in the air. “I have an informant meeting tonight, I already told you boys this. And no, I don’t plan on meeting Izana alone again, let alone marry him. Ever.”

Despite it being a negative, the word ‘marry’ instantly triggered another loud bawl from Kazutora, who flung himself at your legs.

Outside, the sky was turning a dusty blue as the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon, the hustle and bustle of traffic from the city center fading away along with the dying light.

Yet for all the shenanigans going down, there was one notable exemption from the usual party, a blond-haired figure sitting a distance apart from where you and everyone else had gathered. You had returned exactly on time as you had promised, Mikey dully noted from where he was leaning up against the far wall of your room, empty abyss eyes staring blankly down at the taiyaki clutched in one hand. It had been five days since the Toman President had learned about your scars from Kisaki, and four since he had seen them with his very own eyes, the vileness that tainted your being, that you had hid from them all these years. You, their precious Toman princess, who Mikey had revered as his friend, as someone he would do anything for. You did not belong only to him.

The darkness settling over the land masked the same blackness that now tinted his eyes as Mikey looked up. You had caught his gaze and returned a gentle smile, but did nothing more than that where you would have usually beckoned him into a hug and forehead kisses; no doubt your relationship with Mikey was rocky at the moment, to say the least. And despite your efforts to patch things up, whatever you did was never enough, not with all that was at stake. Kisaki was right - to be able to keep you by his side forever, he - they - needed to get rid of the competition. All the competition.

The cold glass of the vial and the rustle of a needle pack tickled his skin as Mikey’s hand brushed past, though the blond-haired delinquent ignored the sensations only to pull out his phone. Soon. To start with that white-haired bastard, or with those Red scum? It didn’t matter, of course, not to Mikey. Because if you wouldn’t come quietly to him, then he would have to take everything else away.

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