Cliche Romantic Things With Genshin Characters !

cliche romantic things with genshin characters !

AKA snippets from AU ideas that i am not ready to write out yet

w/ ei (slight angst), beidou and lisa (suggestive)

ei + slow dancing

"i don't know how to dance," you say. ei answers back with a smile, hand still outstretched. sighing, you reach out slowly, willing your feet to not trip you over.

she pulls you into her easily. "you don't have to know how to dance. just follow me." you feel her place a kiss against your cheek before she's whisking you around her chambers — a hand placed on your waist, and the other intertwined with your fingers.

it's quiet. it is in the dead of night in the shogun's chambers after all. a place where ei has shown you over and over again that she chooses you, above all else. the sound of hushed footfalls on wooden floors keeps a steady rhythm. she drops her other hand to your waist, silencing the movements. it takes you a moment to realise she's pulled you into a tight hug — face turned into your neck.

"ei?" you ask. "is something wrong?"

ei shakes her head. it's you that doesn't remember. you're not exactly who you were all those years ago, but when ei looks into your eyes and sees the mirth in your eyes whenever she speaks, she remembers. she can picture a time, a place, maybe even before the archon war where she's danced with you like this before. what a pleasant twist of fate to meet you again right after she's left her plane of euthymia.

although, ei grimaces as she remembers miko's smirk, hidden behind a well-placed hand. it's most likely not as much of a coincidence as she thinks. regardless, she's grateful.

"i'm glad you're here," is all ei says. one hand strokes your hair and the other running down your spine. she's always held you in this way, touching every part of you as though she's making sure you're real.

"i am too," you reply.

you'll stay this time, won't you? ei wants to ask, but she already knows the answer you'll give her. a tilt to your head, a frown as you try to piece together if you've ever made her doubt otherwise, before a small giggle as you stroke her cheek, promising her.

that's what these dances are — a reminder of promises made to each other on unforgettable nights just like these.

beidou + soft moments under moonlight

you see beidou's silhouette before she even sees you. she's perched on top of the cliff at guyun stone forest, gazing out to the sea. even from here, you can tell there's a wistfulness in her expression, similar to how she would look on the crux during long journeys.

"the moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

against all better odds, you flush. "don't say cheesy stuff like that when i'm sneaking up behind you."

beidou barks out a laugh, turning to face you and beckoning you over to her side. "how is he?" she asks, voice low. there's concern swimming over her face, and you know who she's talking about even without his name.

"kaedehara kazuha is doing... fine." you shrug. you can still picture the small boy with his anemo vision hanging from his hip, a hastily wrapped bandage around his wrist, looking all over the ship but really seeing anything. it's only when the crux's crew first sees the signs of liyue's shores that he opens up, hiding behind a mask of poetry and elegant lines. "he always seems to be looking for something thought." you finish.

"isn't that almost everyone who ends up joining the crux?" beidou peers at you knowingly, a smirk on her face.

you raise an eyebrow at her as she breaks out into laughter once again. there's something admirable about it. the way she takes, and gives, and cares, and her unfraid, unabashed laughter. it's been a long time since you've laughed like that. without knowing it, your fingers reach down to intertwine with hers, hearing beidou's chuckle cut short with a small "oh?"

"i haven't found what i'm looking for." you start, eyes focusing on your interlocked fingers and tracing your way up her arm to her face. your words catch in your throat as you take in her form — eye slightly hooded in fondness and her focus entirely on you. "but i think i'm pretty satisfied all the same."

beidou smiles in return. it's gentle and it's soft. "well, look at you go." there's a teasing glint as she glances between your lips and your eyes. "i think you've been hanging out too much with the new kid."

you roll your eyes with a giggle, knowing she means well. and when she catches your lips under the moonlight, putting everything she has in it, just like she does with anything important, you realise you don't really need to hear her say what she truly feels when it's always been so glaringly obvious in her actions.

lisa + taking care of you when you're sick

"i mean, really." lisa walks over to you with the scent of tea wafting through the air. "if you wanted me to take care of you, all you had to do was ask." there's a teasing lilt to her voice that you should have grown accustomed to by now, and yet, here you were, curling further into the sheets to hide the warmth spreading on your cheeks.

"don't you have to be at the library?" you murmur through the pain in your throat. your hand lifts up to massage it as though it'll ease the strain.

lisa responds with a tsk. "the library can certainly handle it's own for a few hours. besides," she continues. "if anything were to happen to the books while i was busy with more important things..."

you feel your skin tingle with her words. she doesn't need to finish her sentence for you to know the types of punishments she's referring to. there's a soft clink as the cup is settled down on your bedside table. the bed dips as lisa settles herself down with a quiet hmph. her cool hand tugs down your bedsheets just enough to reach your forehead.

"oh, you're really burning up." there's a quiet undertone of concern underneath her silky voice. it reminds you of other more intimate times when she's been worried about you.

not to be outdone, you swallow thickly through the pain in your throat. "it's because you're here."

silence falls between the two of you. you peek your head out from under the covers to see lisa’s reaction, and have just enough time to catch what seems to be purple lightning dancing across her eyes before she turns away, feigning a yawn.

“get well soon, darling.” her voice drops low dangerously. “you’re going to need all the rest you can get once i start toying with you again.”

“i miss having all your attention.” you send a half smirk her way, that you’re sure ends up looking more pained than flirtatious.

surprisingly, lisa doesn’t respond to you with any dangerously enticing lines, merely a sigh. “don’t you have all my attention now?” her hand strokes your cheek, tracing up to your hair and running down your arm in calming, repetitive strokes. lisa’s gaze settles upon you, and there’s a strange feeling in your chest at the fondness lurking in her eyes. “you disappeared for four days,” lisa says, closing her eyes in thought. “no one knew where you were, and all that time, you were just trying to recover from this horrible sickness by yourself. you can ask, you know?” she opens her eyes, staring at you unflinchingly. “no one in mondstadt is ever going to be too busy for you.”

there’s an unspoken suggestion underlying her words. ‘i’m never going to be too busy for you.’ you lean into her touch. “sorry.” you mutter softly into her hand. “i thought i could handle it.”

there’s no response from lisa, and slowly, but surely, you drift off to quiet humming and warm touches against your skin. lisa stays, placing a kiss on the top of your forehead once she’s sure you’re asleep, constantly reassuring herself that you’re here with her.

likes and reblogs are appreciated !

[Being With Morpheus, inspired by the MidnighTS tracklist. Fluff, angst, slight NSFW.]

(Part 1/3)

Lavender Haze 

You’ve been feeling his eyes on you. Subtle glances, covert stares of a few moments each. He has been showing you around the Dreaming today, properly, taking time, and it’s a wonderous place, it takes your breath away every few seconds. But that’s not what he’s watching you for, and in the end, he says, just with the barest hint of puzzlement, ‘You keep smiling.’

’Mm?’, your hand is in his, you’re walking towards the gates of horns and ivory together, returning. 

'Even when we were at The Nightmare Edge. I showed you The Darkening. And yet there was smile in your eyes.’

You stop, he does too. You face him, and feel it again, for the thousandth time today, that jolt inside your chest. It’s thrill, it’s disbelief at your own existence here, in this place and time, it’s the knowledge that he loves you, wants you, it’s the truth that he is yours and you are his. It’s almost unbearable, this happiness. 

All this you cannot tell him, you don’t have the words, but you look into his eyes, so that he can see, and know. ’I’m with you.’, you reply simply- that smile touching your lips again.

You see him understand you- he always does- as it dawns in his eyes, and you see his pleasure at this, him being touched. He comes closer, bends his head low, kisses you slow and soft, and oh, this happiness, this thick, dizzying, delirious haze!

Maroon

He has a problem. Or, he thinks it is a problem. It is one of your absolutely favorite things. The Dreaming is him, and here, whatever he wishes is true. Since you came here, sometimes the wishes get away from him, just a little, when he’s not looking.

Here, adjacent to your big bedroom, you have a big closet, and outfits just appear for you, usually some variation in white. You assume that it is automatic, a process in the Dreaming. But sometimes, like tonight, you open the closet, and there’s something unusual, and a slow grin spreads across your face. 

You disappear inside for a few minutes, and then come out and call, ’My Lord?’

Getting ready for bed, absently he glances up, and with pleasure, you see the slight shock in his face, and the naked flash of desire in his eyes. Then he looks embarrassed for a second, and your stomach does a warm melty thing, he is adorable!

In your maroon two-piece lingerie, all lace and satin, somehow elegant and slutty at the same time, you walk towards him slowly, showing off. The way his eyes sweep over your body makes a hot flush start to rise up the skin of your chest and throat. Close to him, you place a light hand on his chest.

’How did this get in my closet, my Lord Morpheus?’, you say, teasing, the sensual husk in your voice effortless in his presence. 

His eyes lowered, he hooks one of his thumbs to where one of the straps meet the cup, brushes it there slowly, says nothing.

’One of your stray wishes, perhaps?’, you press yourself close to him, heat off his skin coming through the thin fabric he’s wearing. 

One of his hands circles around your waist, ’Perhaps.’ His eyes flick up, his other hand slowly sliding down your arm, the warmth his palm raising goosebumps along it. 

’You thought of me wearing this.’, you murmur in his ear, breathy. 

’Mmmhmm.’, he starts planting kisses on your neck and shoulder, brushing along with his lips and nose, hot and slow. 

’Doing things to you.’, you touch your tongue just below his ears.

'Doing things to you.’, all hint of momentary embarrassment gone now, his voice is hard diamond wrapped in smooth velvet, low and hoarse, making you shiver. His soft lips crush your mouth, demanding, and in a second you’re in his arms, off the ground, and on the bed, thrown. You look up to his beautiful face above you, eyes glinting, smile wicked. His mouth comes down between your breasts, then slowly slides down your stomach, and then he’s taking off your maroon underthing with his teeth, and-

But it’s private business. Shhh. 

Anti-Hero

Something is wrong in the Dreaming. Again. He was not here for a century, and things have changed. He has restored everything the best he can, and while his best is the absolute best, the Dreaming is self-sustaining and self-catering in its own way, and things and creatures remain to be discovered. Sometimes there is malice. Sometimes that has to be dealt with. Sometimes punishments have to be meted out. And King Morpheus, sometimes he is harsh in his punishment.

Afterwards, you find him on a low step of the staircase in his throne room, elbows on knees, hands joined together, chin resting on them. You go and sit beside him, but he doesn’t acknowledge you. You are aware of what happened, and how you know bothers you too- he didn’t tell you, Lucien did. 

You start speaking gently, small talk, this and that, short sentences, requiring his 'yes’ and 'no’s, just to engage him. He does, slowly, two-three words. You breach the topic, careful, breaking it into steps, small questions, your hand light on his arm, 'So, you took a walk that way this morning, I heard-’ 

He opens up reluctantly, in bits and pieces, short answers, and you feel it, in his downward-angled glances, in the liquid blue of his eyes, in the hard set of his mouth, in the rougher pitch of his voice. His conflict, his grief. 

His loathing. For himself.

Pain sears through your heart. This entire plain, he contains it, he is it. The burden, the pressure, to hold the entire collective unconsciousness of every living thing of every universe within him. The rigid rules he makes himself smaller and smaller to fit into, just so he can do his duties. And still- this. Plagued with doubts, hard decisions, reflections, hatred. Well, no way in Hell is he doing that to himself on your watch.

So, you sit with him, and you talk to him. Soft murmurs, calm, patient, resolved, guiding him through the conversation (where, truthfully, he isn’t really taking part still) to the inevitable conclusion- sometimes, you do what you must. Sometimes you maybe even make errors. But that does not warrant falling into this deep chasm of guilt. You find another, better way for the future.

He is listening, and to your immense relief, he is relaxing a little, letting you pull his arm around you, rest your head on his shoulder. There is a lull now that feels almost easy, free of these thorny thoughts, then he says, voice low, ‘You must think differently now.’

You sit up and look at his face, ‘What?’

‘Of me.’ This darkness on his face is so unfamiliar, it baffles you.

‘What are you talking about?’

He looks at you finally. ‘Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares, you must have thought me infinitely wise. Just and right, always. It is not so, and you see that now.‘

‘Dream!’, you cannot believe this! He, he-, ‘You think I would think less of you because - because you did your job?’

‘Sometimes’, he looks down again, ‘someone will decide they do not love you anymore and-‘

‘Stop right now!’, your hands are on his shoulder, pulling, making him face you. ‘Dream. Listen to me very carefully.’ You’re flustered, you’re angry, for God’s sake, but you take a deep breath, and locking your eyes with him, you say each word slowly, deliberately, ‘I love you. I am yours. I am by your side, always, no matter what. I may have opinions. We may have disagreements. But I will never, never, stop loving you. You hear that? Never, until the end of time. I am yours, every molecule in the being of me, I am yours.’

And you see it now, this fear that you didn’t even think that he could have been holding in along with everything else, this insane thought of losing you- leave him, slowly the traces lifting, his eyes clearing, his shoulders lowering that extra bit, and you could sob, you love him so fucking much. But instead, you hold him tight, trying to convey with your touch, your thoughts, your entire being, what you meant- you could never leave him, never stop loving him. He feels it, and slowly he relaxes in your arms, and you almost smile. He thought you wanted a hero. Ha. He doesn’t know, you always liked rooting for anti-heroes much better.

Snow On the Beach

He has been busy lately. Something came up, again, and he is having to investigate. That is okay. You could legitimately never be bored in the Dreaming. You mean, even if you were to disregard everything else, a library with every story ever written or to be written? Come on. Plus, you help in his research. You love doing it, too.

But you miss him, and today, today is kind of special, because if you are right, this is exactly one earth-year from the day that you met him. You don’t imagine that the Dream King remembers- that meeting could not have been as profound for him as it was for you. After all, he didn’t fall like you did, in a blinding flash that turned your life and your being upside down in the fraction of a moment. His fall, his way to you, was slow, and wrought with deliberation. Either way, you miss him, and wish that you could be with him today, but he is not here.

Not until what passes for evening in the Dreaming- it could arrive anytime or not at all, all of it is his wish. He does mimic the earth day-night circle here most of the time though, for you. And today when evening falls, he is suddenly here, and he tells you he wants to show you something.

Taking your hand, he walks you to a place that you are sure was not here yesterday- he made it, for you, and it is a beach. It is a beach, with ocean wave sounds in the dark, and sand cool under your bare feet, salt in the air, stars glinting above, and a table has been set up. Dinner for two. It is under a temporary open awning type thing, all white silk and strings of golden fairy lights. You are frozen, your mouth an ‘o’ of deep surprise, because this is exactly like a dream you once had. That silly romantic dream, brought on by some silly movie you watched, when you used to dream of him all the time, awake and asleep, but dreaming was the only way you could ever see him, and it always hurt in the end. Those days.

You look at him, speechless, and apologetically he says, ‘Please do not think I spy on your unconscious with any regularity. I only took a peek, so that I could make you happy.’ He smiles, seeing what you feel on your face, ‘Come.’

He sits you at the table, takes the seat opposite. You still can’t speak. Candlelight paints his face golden- night-black hair falling on his forehead, eyes sparkling like stars, hint of a smile at the corner of his irresistible mouth, and this is unbelievable, this moment, even more so than everything else in your life is nowadays. Because this is Lord Morpheus, the King of Dreams, Prince of Stories, a being of almost unthinkable scale and magnitude, an Endless, with immeasurable power, and uncountable duties. And he is sitting here with you, in your silly and stupid little human romance fantasy, recreated- for you. He would do this, be this, for you.

He looks concerned, and you realize your eyes are stinging with tears. Just- what else can you do?

He comes over, and pulling you up, takes you in his arms. Murmurs words of love, kisses you, and enough embarrassing yourself for a day, so you try to recover as quickly as you can. Clutching his cloak- tonight it is a more formal, nicer version, for you- you look up, and say, voice trembling still, ‘You- you remembered?’

‘Of course I did.’, his thumb brushes your face, tender.

‘But, but you- I mean, I fell in love with you that day while you just saw me for a while, it must not have been that special for you then-‘

‘Oh, my lady.’, his hand brushes hair away from your forehead, then he clutches it in his fist loosely, and kisses you on the mouth, sensual yet gentle. ‘You really have no idea.’

He waves his other hand, and you know what is about to happen, and sure enough, snow starts falling from the sky. Because dreams are dreams, and because you love both the snow and the beach, it snowed in the dream that you had, and he is making this perfect for you, and it’s strange, and beautiful, and it is not cold. He is making all of it come true, and you remember what happened in your dream after that, and blush, and his mouth is on yours again, and his hand is pulling down the strap of your dress, and you won’t be having that dinner for a while.

The splendid and colorful Beijing Opera!

3:56PM | HAITANI RINDOU 

Rindou swears he left them right there by you, right on the sofa, tucked snug next to one of the multitudes of pillows you keep strewn about, peeking out from the side. You had watched him do it, that was the funny thing, watched him take his glasses off and tuck them against the crevice in the sofa before padding to the kitchen in his pyjamas, a hoodie thrown haphazardly on top. 

You had smirked, deliberated for a fraction of a second as you listened to him open the fridge, the faint sound of water sloshing around in a glass, your own outline in the reflection of his glasses. It would be cruel but funny at the same time and it’s not as if you’d keep up the pretence for very long. Just a joke, no?  One look from Ran lounging opposite you, the beginnings of a devious smile curling at his lips, his eyes alight with mischief, was all it took to make your mind up. You grab the glasses and sneak them into your pocket, turning your eyes back to the book on your lap when you hear the deep timbre of your Boyfriend’s voice get closer.

‘Yeah and then I was- wait where are my glasses?’ He furrows his brow, blinks owlishly, pouting slightly and jutting out his bottom lip when he digs a hand into the gap between the armrest and the sofa. ‘I swear I left them right here.’

‘You sure Rin?’ The act comes awfully naturally to you and you add a little extra drama by matching his furrowed brow, closing your book and standing up, patting the sofa down as he sets his drink on the table. It’s almost comic, the way you bend to sweep a hand over the fabric, burrowing it into the creases.

‘Yes I’m sure,’ he says and scratches his head, tufts of purple and lilac wound tight in his fingers. ‘I don’t understand.’ 

‘Maybe you left them in the kitchen my love.’ 

He shakes his head and bites down on his bottom lip, a habit he picked up off you. It’s cute really, and you know how blessed you are to see this side of him. Happier, funnier, looser even, as if the impenetrable wall that he took such pains to keep up had cracked enough to let you in. 

His eyes widen suddenly and he whips around to where Ran has his legs thrown across the secondary sofa, something dark whirling around in the glass perched in his hands.

‘Up.’ Rindou points an accusatory finger at his Brother and stalks over, his figure still that much shorter and you suppress a giggle as Ran all but fails to hide the knowing smirk thrown in your direction. Rindou is still pouting by this point and you have the sudden visceral urge to kiss his lips, smooth the faint worry lines creasing his forehead. He is adorable, that’s the only word for it, as he puts his hands on his hips and looks up at his much taller Brother.

‘What, you don’t trust your own Brother? That’s cold Rin,’ Ran says, sliding the glass onto the coffee table. He holds his arms out as he stands and raises an eyebrow at you over Rindou’s ruffled head, feigning innocence when Rindou glares at him from beneath pinched brows.

‘I trust you with my life,’ Rindou mutters, his hands grazing his Brother’s pockets for anything that might be even vaguely the correct shape. ‘Just not with my glasses.’

He tuts under his breath when he finds nothing but Ran’s wallet, keys, gum and a silver cigarette tin inlaid with his initials, a present from you from years far into the past. You note absent-mindedly, that at no point has he suspected you and the thought has a thrum of warmth simmering in your chest.

‘Where could they have gone?’ And the look he gives you is withering as he squints, his gaze directed towards the sofa in case he’d happened to miss it. His eyesight truly is terrible and you’d feel bad if it wasn’t for the fact that he just looks so cute as he scratches his head, bites his lips and turns on his heels to look at the coffee table littered with cups and books and ashtrays, discarded takeaway the three of you have just finished. 

The tenderness of the moment however, is not lost on you as Rindou runs a hand over his own pockets, patting his chest, his pyjama bottoms, ruffling his soft hair in case he’d left them perched on his head. 

Briefly, a flash of some memory flits to the front of your mind and you soften, tendrils of love leaking into your heart. You remember the days when Rindou was cold and unfeeling, when your acts of kindness had seemingly gone unnoticed, and the concept of having a joke with him was practically unheard of. The days when he was distant as a star you could barely graze with tentative fingers. You hide the smile behind a hand remembering it, comparing it to the easy lifestyle you now have, one in which the love between the three of you blooms as naturally as day and night. It helps that Ran isn’t put out by the concept of third-wheeling, and in fact has bounds of love for you, as he does for his Brother, that he is always there to watch over the two of you, a hand on your backs propelling you forward in that easy way of his.

With a final glance at the coffee table over his shoulder, Rindou pads to the kitchen again, tripping over his feet and cursing, muted whispers of “where the fuck have they gone?” left in his wake. It’s only when you hear the clatter of a cup and the flick of a kettle do you and Ran dare to exchange glances again, both of you fighting the laugh bubbling in your throats.

‘Well played Y/N.’ Ran says in that lilting tone of his and makes to pick up his glass again, stretching languidly on the sofa, his back arched as he sighs, throwing an arm over his tired eyes. 

‘Thank you Ran.’ A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth and your hand shuffles inside your own pocket, pulling out Rindou’s glasses and carefully, silently, placing them in the nook between the armrest and the seat, fluffing up the cushions and picking up your book again in time for Rindou to slink back into the room, his forehead now permanently creased with a tiny crescent moon of stress lines. 

You make a show of accidentally nudging the pillow and Rindou’s eyes (which are straining enough as it is) flick to the gap where his poor glasses are wedged. ‘How the fuck-?

‘I guess you just didn’t look well enough,’ Ran says, watching, his low baritone voice laced with mirth and the sluggishness of sleep. His throat bobs as he removes his arm momentarily to wink at you conspiratorially. 

‘I thought I did…’ Rindou frowns but says nothing more of it when he perches the glasses on the bridge of his nose, the world now sharp and focused. He smiles at you, a warm and genuine smile, marvelling at the sharpness of your features in the gleaming light, your outline now punctuated by soft yellow and the coppery burnt orange of the setting sun just beyond the window.

The fading sunlight, the slash of iridescent pink on the horizon, bled through with purple and red makes his irises seem catlike from here and the colour bleeds through the soft and fine strands of his hair that frame his face, wisps escaping his tied up mullet to kiss the metal frames.

‘You’re beautiful,’ you say almost on instinct and the action catches him so off guard that the only sound he makes is both wordless and strangled, tight and stuck in his throat as he mutters something about you embarrassing him in front of Ran. If Ran heard at all, he makes no indication of it, and instead softly snores, curled in on himself, one hand tucked under the pillow.

That was the first time and since then, misplacing , or rather moving Rindou’s glasses has become a sneaky but favourite pastime of yours and Ran’s. Often at Bonten’s HQ, with you slipping them into your handbag as you passed, or tucking them under the seat, your legs crossed under the chair to keep up the pretence and poor Rindou squinting at practically anyone who dared make eye contact with him.

You’re pretty sure he terrifies the secretary at least twice a day every time they pop a head around to deliver a message, always greeted by the gruff and gravelly voice of your Boyfriend that perfectly matches the glare he shoots their way.

He’ll pat down his pockets, ruffle his feathery hair, look left and right, sucking in his bottom lip till its pulled behind his teeth and every time, you repress the urge to peck his lips, to taste the strawberry lip balm you know he meticulously applies before leaving. 

You truly wouldn’t do it if he wasn’t so cute.

‘Rindou, is there something wrong?’ Mikey asks, the sheaf of paperwork momentarily lowered as he peers up from beneath dark lashes and Sanzu snickers under his breath, attempting to hide his glee behind a hand swirling around a glass of something heady and honeyed.

Rindou jolts in his seat, too focused on trying to see and to make out something other than the vague shape of his boss with his white undercut and black turtleneck, that he doesn’t realize he’s being spoken to till Ran nudges him subtly with his elbow.

‘Hm, sorry, what did you say Boss?’ Rindou shakes his head and Takeomi smirks wordlessly into his glass, his lips curling around an unlit cigarette. Even Kakucho is smothering a giggle when he sees Rindou squint and lean forward in his seat. 

‘Where are your glasses, Rindou?’ Mikey cocks a head to the side, and while it’s rare that he allows himself a flicker of anything other than indifference, this is one of those times in which the beginnings of a smile twitch at his lips.

Yes, Mikey is also in on the joke.

‘I….’ Rindou fumbles, and absent-mindedly his hand strays to his pocket again, only to touch the bare silk of the inside. ‘I lost them.’ How utterly humiliating, he thinks, the heat of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks, licking at his ears.

‘Why have you not gotten contact lenses? This is a regular occurrence is it not?’ Mikey is genuine this time and if it weren’t for the running joke he is very obviously in on, he would have ordered it ages ago. ‘Is it the money? You know that-’

‘No!’ Rindou stands immediately, his hands braced on either of his chair, and so quick to dispel the misconception that Ran has to bite down on his lip and pretend to scratch his neck to crush the smile that threatens to break his innocent facade.

Oh now this is embarrassing. How does he tell them how lame he feels for the fact that he enjoys you sliding his glasses onto the bridge of his nose every morning? That he craves those intimate seconds in which he can have an excuse to stare back at you, to flick your forehead, tuck your hair behind your ear as you trail your hands down his chest, his stomach thrumming with tenderness and warmth. That if he wears contact lenses, there will no longer be an opportunity for you to fix the tie he leaves deliberately askew and then adjust the glasses on the bridge of his nose, kissing his lips fervently before waving him goodbye, that he snatches those precious moments as a dying man would snatch a mirage in the desert.

But what’s even more humiliating, is the way he’ll drop his jacket on the sofa, muttering a soft and subdued I’m home, listening for the quick footfall that tells him you’re coming down the stairs. He’ll wait for you to run a hand through his hair, pull him by the collars and take off his glasses as his hands slide down to your hips, gently squeezing the flesh as he pulls you into him. And he’ll blow his hair from his eyes, now adjusting to your gleaming outline flaring against the sun’s evening light and his heart will thud against his ribs and he’ll thank every star and a God he’s not sure he believes in for every decision which led him here.

And of course, he’s Haitani Rindou. Ever observant, every sense honed, a living weapon in himself and that means he’d be dumb not to notice you sliding your hand across the table, his glasses gripped tightly between your fingers. Into your bag, into your pocket, conveniently misplaced almost every few days, but turning up all the same, and always with a comical but adorable gasp, your mouth falling open and your eyes dancing with a flicker of light.

‘Y/N do you know where my glasses are?’ He’ll ask, as if he didn’t see you tuck them behind the TV set five minutes before that. And he’ll watch you deny it with an adamant shake of your head, your nose buried in the book resting in your lap and Rindou will quash the smirk and gleeful smile at seeing you deny it all, knowing that you’d just feign innocence for teasing him.

He lets you have it every time, your five minutes of laughter that you and Ran often share for his sake because he knows in his heart, it’s all out of love. Every meticulous thing, every kiss to his nose that has his cheeks turning pink after you adjust the gold rimmed glasses, every giggle and smile and ounce of warmth that slips through your fingers like stardust when your hand touches his hot skin or tucks the errant strands of hair behind his ears. You are the sun, and he is the moon, redeemed by the constancy of your love.

And if being subject to a bit of embarrassment was the price to pay for you, to see your smile as radiant as the sun, to see you throw your head back and laugh, then he was happy to pay it. It was a no brainer for someone as deeply entrenched as he was. 

So yes, he knows, he’s always known. 

He’s Haitani Rindou after all. Your Haitani Rindou at that.

a/n: This is a birthday present for my lovely love @tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang (happy birthday sweetheart<3) I had so much fun writing this, but then again I always do writing for Rindou, I hope everyone else also likes it, thank you so much for all the wonderful feedback so far on everything I write. As always, likes and reblogs are so appreciated<3

taglist: @mxnjiros @stroberrylite @islascafe @prettyiolanthe @brownsugarmoonie @wotakuhime @snakegentleman @ranyechka @severellamahottub @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @invisible-cardigan-33 @seagoddesslove @manjirosgrl @crown5 @the-travelling-witch @bladesandguns @reiners-milkbiddies @girl-by-the-lake @1900-aria @rottingreveries @qiumiisoup (let me know if you would like to be added!!)

i just may like to have a conversation.

fracture IV

ran x reader w bonten sprankled in

summary: bonten attempts to earn your trust. you learn a bit more about ran's philosophy on life, and he rails you into oblivion.

cw - drugs, smut, guns, murder, praise, degradation, dub!con, reader is a sex worker w a sick brother. ran likes you!!! likes you a lot!! too much probably, probably far too much. a/n extra long because i made you wait.

minors dni

prev

Ran doesn’t stir with you tucked against him, doesn’t dream. Not with your head on his chest, your breathing soft, your arms wrapped around him. Even if you wanted to, you don’t dare move, your fingers laced with his. He sleeps through the night, and you notice, as your pain pokes through your own slumber and wakes you, that he stays fully in place until midday, when his phone nearly vibrates itself off his nightstand. He groans loudly, picking it up without opening his eyes and throwing it hard across the room. You watch the screen shatter and the contact picture light up. 

“It’s Mikey.” You whisper. 

“Don’t care.” He mumbles, rolling onto his side and nestling you into his chest. “Too comfortable.” His chest is bare, his skin warm from being under the blankets, and you press your lips to his collarbone. He runs his hands down  your body and you realize for the first time the pain doesn’t make tears spring to your eyes. He hums again, a soft, deep sound, pressing   his lips to your cheek. “Wanna get high?”

“Mhm.” You breathe, not able to imagine any sweeter bliss than being able to escape your body for a moment, or several hours. 

“Drawer on the right,” He yawns, “Roll me something, sweetheart.” You struggle your way out from under him and scoot across the soft sheets, digging in the drawer for ziplock baggie and a tin. It’s already ground, of course it is, and you painstakingly arrange it on the expensive looking lavender rolling paper. Ran wraps his arms needily around your waist, it’s raining outside, the water hitting the paynes of glass in his bedroom window distort the image of the city. You gingerly roll it up, licking the paper and setting it on the bed, before taking his heavy silver lighter from the drawer. He releases you and flops on his back. You struggle with the lighter mechanism, though, and after a few futile flicks he snatches it from  your clumsy hands and lights it himself, holding the flame to the end of the joint, the smell of weed, smoke, and lavender filling the air. He inhales, and holds it, tossing the lighter on the bed with the cap on, and pulling the joint from his lips, beckoning you downward. 

You know what he’s asking for, and you kiss him, getting a lungful of smoke as he breathes out into you, his free hand holding your face in place, thumb sinking into the plush of your cheek as dizziness overtakes you. He holds you there for a few seconds, and then pulls away, watching you hold it as long as you’re able to, before you cough the lightly floral smoke out and he laughs, running his fingers through his hair. 

“You have to relax,” he coaches, picking the lighter back up and taking another hit, “Try again.” You watch him hold the smoke in his lungs again, completely maintaining eye contact with you, as his consciousness gets light and floaty he starts to get distracted by details of your beauty, the curve of your jaw, the shadow your eyelashes cast on your cheek. He holds the joint between two fingers and takes your face with both hands, kissing you hard as he blows the smoke into your mouth. He watches your eyes water, and lets his own flutter shut. “Good girl,” he murmurs, watching you struggle to hold it, but reads the desperation to please in your eyes. “Let it out slow,” he murmurs, mouth finding the valley of your collarbones, he tosses the joint on the floor, and you have one panicked moment about the rug before his teeth sink into your skin and you gasp in surprise, then cough. “Shhhhh,” he breathes, feeling the way your chest spasms and sputters, “Shhh, baby.” He kisses up your jaw. 

“Sir,” you get out, the word breathy and spent, and he chuckles, you feel the vibrations of his voice on your skin. 

“Nah,” he manages. “Something else, somethin’ else right now.” His mind is spinning, it’s been ages since he’s had time to relax like this, to spend the morning in bed with someone, to put his guard down. He feels your back arch up off the mattress and slips a hand underneath it, wanting to encourage the posture, and feels that some of your swelling has gone down around your ribs. His lips find yours, heavy lidded and with clumsy hands you kiss like teenagers, the occasional click of teeth, the pulling away when you’re breathless. 

“Please,” you try, body warm and tingly, arching your back up off the mattress, grinding your hips against his. 

“Hmm,” he hums against your lips, pushing a leg in between yours, feeling you grind against it. “Try again.” 

“Please,” you think as hard as you’re capable of, rifling through titles, he was so formal, he slept in designer underwear, it couldn’t be-, “Daddy,” the word slips from your mouth and he lets out a low growl, squaring his weight above your own, hands in your hair. 

“That’s my girl.” He kisses you again, in no rush, lips trailing down your body, pulling the t-shirt he’d lent you up over your tits, burying his face in between them with a loud groan, before kissing up to your nipple, taking it in his mouth, letting you feel the flash of pain with his teeth before the soothing flick of his tongue. You reach for him but he shakes his head. “Stay still.” he orders softly, and you obey, trying your hardest not squirm as he kisses your stomach, the inside of your thighs, licking a stripe right up your core. He hums softly, and you feel his breath on your skin before you feel his tongue, nudging your clit out of its hood, starting with the most gentle stimulation you’ve ever felt. 

You’ve been eaten out before but this, this is different, his violet eyes locked to yours as he teases you, providing just enough pleasure to make your back arch up, to change the rhythm of your breathing. He moves so slowly, so deftly, pushing one finger inside you, then two, that you can’t believe how quickly the pleasure starts to become overwhelming, starts to have you moaning loudly, squirming despite his orders, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets. 

“I’m gonna,” you choke out, before realizinig, “I mean, please, please can I, daddy, I need to-” 

“M mm,” he shakes his head, the vibrations from his voice sending you up into a dizzying high, “You cum on my cock,” he lifts his head, but keeps fingering you, you whimper at the loss of  stimulation, “Nowhere else, understand?” You whimper an affirmation and he chuckles, wiping his face and climbing on top of you. He kicks his briefs off, and you have exactly one second of apprehension when you feel him press the head of his cock to your swollen and throbbing clit. He hums again, watching the thoughts melt from your brain as he eases inside, ready to tease you before he feels the way your softness is wrapping around him. “Fuck,” he breathes, shocked, looking down at you. 

“W-what?” You manage, staring up at him, and he doesn’t respond, just slams his hips against yours, filling you so quickly it’s like the air is crushed from  your lungs, your vision completely whites out. 

“Feel so good, baby,” he growls, at odds with his previously lightly stoned blissed out demeanor, no, now he’s kissing you hungrily, groaning every time he bottoms out inside you, pinning your wrists to the bed as he pulls sharp music from  your lips with every thrust. 

The heavy slap of his body against yours is a steady rhythm, and his hand moves from your wrists to lace his fingers with yours, it’s oddly intimate even as your mind floats outside of your body, the sound of his groans becoming deadened by the pleasurable, blissful high. You hear something, after a few minutes, and Ran must too because his hips stutter, and he swears under his breath. 

“Fuck off,” he calls loudly and then leans down, kissing you softly, pressing his forehead to yours with his eyes closed. 

“Oh god,” you murmur, “M’so close, I’m so, please, please can I come, daddy,” you suck in a sharp breath, 

“Shhhhhh,” He breathes, “Shh baby, be quiet and ‘n cum for me,” you let go of your orgasm like you’ve been released from a teather, flying forward as you hear him groan in your ear, feel his lips on your cheek, when you hear the sound again, raised voices in the living room. Before you can do anything, Ran pins you to the bed, one fist closing around your neck almost lazily as the door to his bedroom swings open and his brother physically recoils. 

“Jesus christ,” Rindou swears, covering his eyes. 

“I know that when we lived together you’d knock,” Ran drawls, but there’s a dark undercurrent to his tone as you struggle underneath him, he’s choking you in earnest as you cum beneath him, evidently far more affected by the weed than he was. “Maybe I should forcefully reacquaint you with the habit?” 

“Maybe you should let her breathe?” Rindou snaps, but Ran only tightens his grip, reducing your gasps beneath him to gurgles. 

“She breathes when  you tell me why the fuck you’re here?” He says coolly. 

“Shions dead!” Rindou blurts angrily, “Mikey’s been calling you all morning.” Ran releases your throat and you suck in a deep breath, hyperventilating to catch up, still only mostly aware of what’s happening around you. 

“Get the fuck out of my room.” Ran says, but there’s less of an edge to it. “I’ll be out in a sec.” Rindou nods, and Ran pulls back from you, dazed and dizzy on the mattress. You’re still catching your breath and he spares you a glance as he reflects. “Sorry, baby,” He says after a moment, gathering you in his arms, sitting you up against his chest. “Daddy got angry at Rin and he took it out on you, he’s sorry.” You whimper softly, pressing your face against his chest. “Do you forgive me?” He asks, and instead of the low voice, laced with a threat that you were used to, it sounds almost, vulnerable. You nod immediately and he presses his lips to your forehead. “Sweet girl.” He murmurs. 

“Did you know him well?” You ask, and Ran gives you a gentle squeeze before standing, and yanking on a pair of pants, muttering about blue balls, before turning to you like he’d barely heard your question, you watch him process your question in real time. 

“Yeah.” Ran says, he sounds a bit distracted but you watch him physically shake it off, “Get dressed honey, big day for us.” You rub your eyes. 

“I’m so high.” You mutter, and it’s the closest thing he’s heard to a complaint since he picked you up off the floor of your bedroom in the brothel. 

“C’mon dummy,” he throws something at you and you realize it’s a dress, “I had them getcha some shit.” It’s white, and it doesn’t dip too low between your breasts, but as you wriggle into it you see that it’s not exactly modest or warm, cutting squarely across the top of your chest and ending mid thigh. It’s tight, but you can move in it. 

“Do I get a gun?” You ask, and he considers, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and garbling his speech. 

“I’ll think about it.” He yanks you into his bathroom and passes you a bottle. “Wash your face and put sunscreen on.” He orders, before spitting his toothpaste in the sink. He hurries you through a morning routine, smoothing your zipper in the back of your dress before pulling you out into his living room. Rindou is standing with his arms crossed, Yuuta and Isami are waiting for you. 

“Mikey’s pissed.” Rindou says, but Ran doesn’t look concerned, his shattered phone now in his suit pocket. 

“Mikey’s always pissed,” Ran rolls his eyes, and you follow the two of them through the building, down in the elevator and out into a sleek black escalade that Isami drives. They wait to discuss details, bickering until the car door closes and the engine hums to life. “So what happened?” Rindou sighs. 

“Went looking for Daito, found Shion.” 

“Fuck.” Ran pulls his Juul out of his pocket and takes a puff. “You don’t think Daito had shit with Shion, right?” 

“I dunno,” Rindou shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I got a tip from someone by the docks, coulda been a bad one.” 

“If Shion’s dead it’s more likely the tip was a trap.” Ran decides, resting one hand on your bare thigh, squeezing it.”You find the guy who gave it to you?” 

“Nah, he’s in the wind.” Rindou scowls, looking out the window. “Message wasn’t to us by the way, written in blood over Shions head it was, “More to come, Mikey-kun.’” 

“Mikey-kun,” Ran repeats, blowing out a puff of cotton candy scented smoke. “Who the fuck calls Sano Manjiro Mikey-kun.” 

“Not me.” Rindou shivers, and you feel his eyes flick to you. “Any chance that’s what he likes to be called in bed?” You shake your head. 

“God.” You confirm. “The girls I knew who’ve slept with him called him God.” Ran chokes on his own spit, coughing in the seat. 

“Shit, that’s hilarious, of course he does.” He shakes his head. “Nah, good to know it’s not just us, interesting that when one of them got to her they threatened me, though,” he rubs his chin again, “I gotta dig into this myself, fuck, I fucking hate actually havin’ to do work.” 

“We know.” Rindou says dryly. “There’s a meeting when we get to the offices, you gotta leave her outside.” 

“All good,” Ran puts his Juul away, “She wants to nap anyway,” he reaches over and boops your nose, “She did like two hits and suddenly she’s an invalid.” You pout, unable to control your reactions, you were used to alcohol, and the prescription drugs had made you so out of it that you’d completely folded in on yourself. It had been ages since you’d smoked weed, and the lightness of your head was making the fast paced conversation grating. “Adorable.” Ran gives you a squeeze and light pain blooms in your chest, a reminder that you’re still recovering. 

You tune out the rest of their conversation, fiddling with your phone, texting your brother that you love him and then burying your face in Ran’s arm, he stops mid sentence to look down at you. 

“C’mon,” he says, glancing at Rin, “You don’t want something like this?” Rindou sighs. 

“I don’t want to talk about this with you.” He says, pointedly looking out the window. “What I like is-” 

“Stupid.” Ran cuts him off, a huge grin on his face. “You want someone who pushes you around-” 

“I do.” Rindou says coldly. “I’m sure you’ll come calling when she gets tired of you and you’re too soft to put her in her place.” 

“I don’t need to spank baby,” Ran coos, cupping your face in two huge hands like you’re some kind of doll. “She’s so good for me, isn’t she?” You pout further and nod. Rindou rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not going to let you mock me for this.” Rindou says stiffly. “You want to care for something helpless,” You frown at that, burying deeper into Ran, who chuckles, “And I’m sure that’s admirable on some level but I’m not interested in that.”  

“Are you helpless,” Ran elbows you, still baby talking, “Or did you shoot two grown men through the heart in cold blood a few days ago?” You wince, but he just smirks. 

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Rindou says, as the car pulls to a stop in front of the offices. You hide behind Ran, who leaves you somewhat reluctantly with Isami and Yuuta in his office, before striding into the conference room where everyone is waiting for him. Mikey looks thunderous but Ran ignores him. 

“Haitani.” Mikey’s eyes narrow. 

“Sano.” Ran quips, flopping heavily in a chair. “Have I ever answered a phone call before 11AM?” There’s a silence. “Ever, in the history of the organization, anyone, anyone who’s called me, have I picked up the phone between the hours of 4AM and 11AM?” 

“No.” Sanzu answers, as if he’s just come to this realization. 

“You need to answer your phone.” Mikey snaps, eyes narrowed and bloodshot. “The girl is a distraction.” 

“With all due respect,” Ran says, absolutely neutral, ice cold, “I’ve done more work since acquiring the girl than I’ve done in months.” He cracks a grin then. “Think she’s motivating.” 

“You need to answer your phone.” Mikey repeats, but he just sounds tired, letting Ran off the hook, changing the subject. “Kakucho, what do we know?” 

“Group formed at the docks, around thirty men tops, no international connections, calls themselves the silver dragons.” Kakucho says, and the meeting moves forward, with Kakucho walking through the known members and identities, until Ran clears his throat. 

“Should we ask her if any of these guys were the one who tried to kill her?” He reaches over and takes a sip of Kokonoi’s coffee and makes a face. “Why is there so much fuckin’ cream in here jesus Koko?” Kokonoi swipes the cup back and scowls. 

“Get your own fucking coffee.” He snaps. “It’s your own fault you showed up late and it’s cold.” 

“Actually,” Mikey says, cutting in, “We have to talk to you about the girl.” 

“Shoot.” Ran says, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. 

“She’s loyal to you,” Mikey explains, “But we need her to be loyal to us.” He scoots forward, resting his elbows on the table. “She’s killed for us, which means she’s earned her tattoo but I don’t want to give it to her until she’s really a part of this.” Ran’s brow furrows, he nods slowly. 

“You wanna do a traditional initiation?” He asks, and then answers his own question. “I dunno,” he rubs his chin. “She’s wily, but I think any guy we put up against her would put her back in the hospital. She was barely alive for the first few days after that guy broke into her place. Plus she’s still got broken ribs, not to mention any man who lays a hand on her I’m probably gonna maim, I’m old fashioned like that,” he drawls, and Sanzu glances at him but Ran doesn’t turn to meet his eyes, “Depending on how I’m feelin’ that day.” Mikey waves the idea away. 

“I don’t think a traditional initiation fight would be productive for her. Kokonoi had another idea about how to ‘earn’ her loyalty.” Mikey pauses, studying the executive who remains unreadable. “You know the new group cutting in on our arms sales in the south of the city.” Ran nods. 

“Small time problem, big time headache.” He says, shrugging. “I’m familiar.” 

“We need to draw them out,” Mikey explains, “Koko suggested we use her as bait, and then rescue her.” He keeps his eyes on Ran, who doesn’t react. After a moment, he stretches, yawning. 

“Well, if you were waitin’ to see if I’d betray my brothers for a bitch I just met you’ve got your answer.” He says, pulling his Juul out of his pocket. “Where does she have to be, and what time am I picking baby up?” 

“Actually,” Rindou pipes up. “We think she’s plenty loyal to you. We think it might be better to have one of us who is less familiar with her execute the rescue.” Ran doesn’t balk, shrugging. 

“Cool.” A little smirk flits across his lips. “Probably shouldn’t be Kokonoi, though.” 

“No,” Mikey agrees, and then his eyes narrow, “Wait, we were thinking I’d do it, or Kakucho would, but why not Kokonoi?” 

“Oooh,” Ran’s smirk widens, “You wanna tell ‘em why she might not want to trust you?” 

“She offered.” Kokonoi says stiffly, looking away. 

“He put a cigarette out on her hand.” Ran blows out a cloud of cotton candy scented smoke. “So I think that ship’s sailed.” 

“She offered.” Kokonoi crosses his arms over his chest, most of the executives don’t react but Mikey’s eyes narrow a single degree. 

“Does this mean I stop getting shit for fucking her while she-” Sanzu starts. 

“No.” Ran and Mikey say at the same time, then Mikey scowls, and clears his throat. 

“No.” Mikey repeats, rubbing his eyes. “Listen,” he eyes the group, “You’re all used to treating women like they're disposable, and you can’t,” He pinches the bridge of his nose, “She isn’t. All you have to do,” he turns to Ran, “Is bring her with you down to investigate the docks, you’ll get separated and I think I should be the one to,” he catches Ran’s expression and trails off. 

“Rin should lose her.” He says, leaning forward, “She wouldn’t believe that I’d let her go, I’ve been carrying her everywhere for a few days, plus there’s a chance she gets my gun and shoots whoever tries to pull us apart, less of a chance of that with Rin ‘cause she doesn’t know where he keeps his.” Mikey turns to Rindou who shrugs. 

“Fine.” He says, and Ran stands. 

“I’ll grab her?” He says. 

“Go ahead.” Ran strides out into the hallway, heart beating uncomfortably as the door closes behind him, but shoves the feelings down as he goes to his office. You’re nestled on the couch, wrapped in his suit jacket as you sleep on the bed. He touches your shoulder and you blink up at him. “You got work to do sweetheart,” he grins. “Can’t just lie on your back all day anymore.” You groan softly, but stand, grateful to be in the light dress and shoes he’d given you instead of virtually naked in his shirt as you follow him down the hallway. He opens the door to the office and you feel all of their eyes on you immediately. Your palms break into a sweat but you maintain composure. 

“Do you recognize any of these men?” Kakucho asks you, handing you his phone. “You can flip through the pictures.” You scroll through his phone, pausing on one. 

“He came to see me pretty regularly,” You hand the phone back to Kakucho, showing him a broad man with blue in his hair. Kakucho sits straight up in his chair, snatching the phone from you and putting it straight up on the table. “Maybe um, once a week?” Your hand drifts towards Ran, who takes it, rubbing circles in your palm. “But he’s not the person who um, who I stabbed.” 

“We know him.” Kakucho said, brow furrowing. “That’s Taiju Shiba.” You nod. “You saw him regularly?” You shiver. 

“None of um, none of the other girls could,” you pause, choosing your words carefully. “He was particular, and after he’d always lose his temper, half with me, half with himself, but he never hurt any of us badly enough to get kicked out.” 

“How the fuck is Taiju Shiba getting in and out of a place I’m in charge of without anyone calling me,” Ran snaps, already pulling his phone out of his pocket, “I’m breaking someone’s knees.” Mikey nods, and you can practically feel the waves of malevolence rolling off of him. 

“Sounds like you know what you’re doing today,” He says, and Ran nods, already pulling his phone out and starting for the hallway. 

“You’re with Rin.” Ran says quickly, giving you a quick pat on the head before disappearing around the corner, his voice carries, his tone is pure ice. “Yeah, hi this is Haitani Ran, I need to speak with whoever the fuck thinks they’re running this place.” A few men stand, Rindou included. He gestures towards the door. 

“Hope you’re not too used to being carried everywhere.” He says gruffly, and you shake your head, nearly sober, dutifully and silently following him out. You can hear Ran when you pass his office, but barely. He’s not shouting, he sounds so calm that a shiver runs up your spine. You hold your head up, following Rindou out of the restaurant, and into a car. 

“Where are Yuuta and Isami?” You ask finally, when the two of you slide into the backseat and Rindou starts checking his email on his phone. 

“Busy.” Rindou says without looking at you. You don’t speak again for another fifteen minutes, a light snow starts to fall outside the car. You’re stuck in traffic. Rindou clears his throat. “How’s your brother?” 

“Oh.” Your head snaps to his, attempting to gauge the sincerity of his request. “I um, we texted this morning.” You let out a little breath. “Chemo sucks.” Rindou nods. 

“So I’ve heard.” You turn away from him again, staring out the window at the little white clumps falling from the sky when he speaks again. “You don’t, you don’t really understand what’s happening to you, do you?” 

“A lot of things have happened to me.” You don’t turn to him, still watching the snow. “I either land on my feet or I don’t. So far I’ve been lucky.” 

“Look at me when I speak to you.” He says sharply, and you immediately turn around, eyes wide, holding his gaze. “Thank you.” He says more stiffly, “And I mean, you don’t understand who we are, and what we do.” 

“Your brother moves product into the country, manages illegal brothels,” You shrug, “He covered up murders.” Rindou nods. “So I have an inkling, I’m not a fawn in the woods.” He sighs and rubs his eyes. You realize he looks exhausted. “Can I,” you cock your head at him, “Can I do anything for you?” He blinks at you, you tentatively reach across the seat, moving quite slowly, slow enough so that if he wants to bat your hand away or tell you to fuck off that he can. “It’s,” you pick up one of his hands, it’s large enough to swallow your own, so you take it with both of yours. “It’s alright, you’re doing your best.” The words are empty, meaningless, but he softens anyway. 

“Is that what you’d do for men?” He asks, examining your hands wrapped around his. “Validate them?” You don’t answer his question, scooting closer to him on the seat, following your instincts. 

“Do you dislike it?” You ask, and he sighs again, leaning against you. He squeezes your hands, letting his eyes close. 

“Just stay where you are.” He murmurs, and it’s about a minute before you feel him fully relax against you. His breathing is soft and even, and he’s heavy and warm in a way that’s comforting and not overwhelming. You drive like that, with him sleeping on your shoulder for nearly half an hour longer, he wakes when the car pulls to a stop. He jerks his hand out of yours, not looking at you as he hops out of the car and holds the door. 

“What are we doing here?” You ask, shivering, Ran’s suit jacket was large but not quite warm enough for the winter weather. 

“I have a meeting.” Rindou says, without looking at you. It’s not a nice neighborhood, with uneven sidewalks and sloping cracked streets, covered in dead weeds that must have fought their way to the sun during the summer only to be choked by the frost. The warehouse you’re in front of seems fully functional, with smoke billowing from a chimney. “We’re meeting Mikey after.” You nod, moving carefully behind him. He pushes the huge metal door open and you’re hit with a familiar smell, the salt, the sea, and fish. You wrinkle your nose as you step inside the small fishpacking plant, and then jump at the heavy thud of someone slicing right through a frozen fish with a cleaver. Rindou frowns at you, offering you his arm. “Does it bother you?” He asks quietly, leading you through the side of the warehouse, “The blood?” You look at the concrete floor, stained with red. 

“Yes.” You say as quietly as possible, well aware of the stares the two of you are drawing. He doesn’t respond, leading you up a metal staircase to a small upper bridge where there are a few offices. You hear the heavy slap of fish hitting the conveyor belt, and shrink a little into Rindou, who stiffens. 

“Needy.” He mumbles, and you swallow, looking away. He knocks on one of the office doors and a man in a suit opens it. 

“Leave your bitch outside.” He growls, looking over at you, eyes dark and beady. Rindou sighs.

“I’d hate to think you’d insult someone so high up in our organization.” His eyes flash. “Care to try again.” 

“Bitch waits outside.” The man says. “S’Chome’s orders.” Rindou raises his eyes and you read a micro expression of genuine surprise on his face. He sighs. 

“She doesn’t like the blood,” He explains impatiently, “Is there another room for her?” You wonder why they’re suddenly making allowances for you, and wonder if what Rindou had said was true, were you now high up in a criminal organization, high enough up to deserve respect? You find out a second later when the man steps out of the room, nodding and grabbing your arm. 

“Don’t touch her,” Rindou hisses, ice in his tone. “She belongs to Bonten.” 

“Whatever.” The man jerks you towards him, you crash hard against his chest and bite back a cry of pain. Rindou pulls his gun like lightning, there are shouts on the floor below. 

“Return her.” Rindou says, hand steady. “Or I’ll shoot you.” 

“Fuck off.” The man snarls, and you’re completely blindsided by a loud crack as Rindou fires his weapon. The man stumbles backwards, blood pooling at his shoulder. 

“C’mon,” Rindou grunts, grabbing your wrist and yanking you down the stairs. You follow, glancing over your shoulder as there are shouts on the factory floor. He starts sprinting, holding onto you tightly. You clatter down the stairs, and make a break for the exit. 

“Why,” you get out, “Why did you-” 

“Don’t fucking talk to me when we’re running!” He says, pulling his phone out of his pocket, elbowing the heavy metal door open just as the men chasing you catch up. One of them goes to grab you, and Rindou drops his phone, fist connecting with the man's jaw, you hear a sickening crunch. You squeak and dash past him out the open door, and the second you’re outside you hear a gun fire several times, and Rindou comes tearing out of the building, somehow looking calm. “What the hell are you doing,” he rolls his eyes, plucking you off your feet and taking off running with your body cradled to his chest, “I let you go, you were supposed to run?” 

“I wasn’t going to leave you!” You cry out, and for one moment, for one split second, he’s not there, running through with warehouse district carrying some prostitute. He’s sixteen, and it’s summer, he’s standing in an alley behind a convenience store. 

“I,” the girl in front of him is fidgeting, “I brought you this.” She’s small, smaller than him, and shy, she passes him a package of band aids. “I see you around, and sometimes, um, you’re a bit banged up, and I thought, um,” she takes a step backwards from him. “I thought you could use these.” He quirks an eyebrow. “I’m um, I’m gonna go-” She’d said, and re remembers now that she’d tripped, and he’d caught her, dropping the bandages on the ground as his hands had flown to her waist, righting her body. 

“Do you want,” he’d said, unable to think of anything else. “Do you want to ride on my bike?”

 He remembers now, the feeling of something small, and vulnerable, the feeling of protecting someone, of having something worth protecting, had it really been since that summer that he’d felt this feeling? He tightens his grip on your body, ducking behind a dumpster, hearing gunshots ping against the metal. He sets you on the ground, reloading his gun. 

“You should have,” He says curtly, lifting his head up and firing a couple rounds before ducking back down, “You should have run away, and hid somewhere. That would have been normal,” He grunts, firing just once this time before returning his attention to you, measuring your sincerity to the best of his ability. He’d checked up on your story, out of an abundance of caution, while you were asleep on his couch, and paid off your medical debts personally when it turned out you’d been telling the truth. Still, it had been hard to imagine the way you’d been clinging to Ran wasn’t theatrical, despite the circumstances. Here, in this moment, as little white tufts of snow begin to fall from the sky, he sees what Ran sees when he looks at you. Your eyes are wide, and he watches you inhale before taking a step forward, and somehow, later he’d claim you must have been filled with adrenaline, you reach out and knock him behind you, snatching the gun from his hand and firing three times in quick succession. Rindou rips his gun back from you and swears violently. All three of the men who’d been chasing you are lying on the asphalt. 

“I got their legs,” you say urgently, and Rindou detects a slight self congratulatory note in your voice. 

“I liked this gun,” He grumbles, “C’mon.” He pulls you forward and the two of you run through the warehouse district, well aware that essentially nothing had gone as planned when by some miracle, a huge black escalade pulls up in front of you just as you hear the shouts in the distance getting closer, and sirens. The door opens and Mikey hops out, not giving you time to get in, throwing you over his shoulder and getting back in, barely letting Rindou leap in after you before the tires squeal on the pavement and the car starts to tear out of there. 

“What the hell happened,” Mikey slides you off his shoulder, holding you partially on his lap as you squirm. 

“You tell him.” Rindou’s already pulling his Juul out of his pocket. “I’m fucking exhausted.” 

“One,”  you manage, “One of them grabbed me, Rindou um, Rindou shot them and then we ran.” 

“No,” Rindou says sharply, “That is not what happened.” He blows out a cloud of cucumber melon scented smoke, Mikey’s hand drifts a little lower on your hip. “What happened is I let her run, and she didn’t fucking run.” 

“I wasn’t going to leave you.” You repeat, and feel the Bonten leader’s grip on you tighten. “I, I’m not sure you even told me to go.” 

“I didn’t think I had to,” Rindou says, exasperated. “They were shooting and you didnt have a fucking gun.” 

“I never would have left you there.” You say, and it’s the closest any of them have heard to you raising your voice since they’ve met you. There’s a beat of stunned silence, you nearly vibrate with fear, realizing you’d just snapped at a man, who not only has a gun, was clearly keen on using it. 

“Don’t talk to him like that.” Mikey says softly, adjusting the way you’re half in his lap so tha you can look him in the eyes. “Do you understand?” You nod, swallowing. “I want you to say out loud that you understand,” and fear erases all your indignation. 

“Yes god,” you whisper, and Mikey breaks into a wide smile. “I understand.” 

“Jesus.” Rindou takes another puff on the juul. “I’m gonna tall Ran his bitch bites.” Your eyes shoot open. 

“Please,” you beg him, twisting in Mikey’s lap, “I’m so sorry, I just, I would never ever,” you take a deep breath, “I would never ever leave you behind.” Rindou reaches out, patting the top of your head, remembering the girl with the band aids. 

“Yeah, yeah you’re a good girl.” He shakes his head, watching you brush off the praise. Mikey gives you a squeeze, tucking you into his chest, and giving Rindou a confused look, asking him to elaborate. Rindou shrugs, and then glances meaningfully at you. You stay tense, ears ringing, disliking how you were starting to get used to the gunfire. 

“Are you afraid?” Mikey tries, trying to see what of his plan could be salvaged. You shake your head.

“No.” You mumble, then lift your head. “Not now.” 

“Good.” Mikey presses his lips to the top of your head. “Good.” Rindou pulls his phone out of his pocket, wincing at the shattered screen. 

Ran: she okay?

Rindou: yeah. 

Rindou: you give a shit if Mikey’s got his hands all over her?

Ran: depends

Ran: does it seem like she likes it? 

Rindou resists the urge to sigh out loud, and effortlessly maintains a blank expression as he inspects you, the way you’re not holding Mikey back, the way your eyes keep flicking to the door. 

Rindou: Nah 

Ran: that’s my girl. 

Rindou: I’d be a shitty brother if I didn’t say if Mikey wants her she’s Mikeys 

Ran: Mikey only wants her ‘cause she’s new 

Ran: he’ll get bored

Rindou: and you? 

Ran: baby needs me. 

Rindou: and you like that, to be needed. 

Ran: yeah it’s validating. You don’t feel the same way? 

Rindou: I get it, it’s not for me. 

Ran: lame

Ran: baby’s gonna cook for me, and clean, and hide a glock in the rice sack in the pantry.

Ran: the perfect woman does exist. 

Rindou: *can be bought

Ran: same difference. I’m not gonna let anyone else have her.

Mikey rubs  your back, the three of you ride in silence across the city. He taps the bridge of your nose when you start nodding off, producing something from his pocket, a small blue pill. 

“Open.” He orders, and you do, letting him place it on your tongue. He looks down at you, not understanding why you’re still looking up at him, tongue out, and then realizing you’re waiting for him to tell you, “Close.” He murmurs and you do, burying your head in his chest as it dissolves, a heavy warmth washing over your body. You’re in and out for the rest of the drive, unaware until you feel the blistering cold, the day darkened in twilight, as Mikey carries you upstairs. You wait to be deposited with Ran, but instead find yourself alone in what you imagine is Mikey’s office. It’s cold, and you’re so high the world blurs, you can’t focus on the map on his wall, on the dark wood of his desk, on the snow falling outside his window. You take a fistful of his soft shirt for stability and feel his lips on your head again. 

“God,” you murmur, and he responds. 

“Hm?” 

“Is um,” you blink up at him, “Am I in trouble?” He shakes his head, not all had gone as planned, he thinks, but he’d rescued you and you’d wounded the enemy. “Can I ask you for something?” He hesitates, wondering if it’ll be money, revenge, a purse, if you’ll show your true colors now when your vulnerable, he wants to smack himself, of course Haitani wouldn’t notice if you were a gold digger he- “I want to move my brother to a hospital in Tokyo.” His head stops spinning, and you droop a little. “He’s at one in Hyogo,”  you mumble, no longer able to maintain eye contact, focusing on the pattern on the rug. 

“I can have someone look into it.” He says. “Why haven’t you done this yourself?” You swallow. 

“I couldn’t afford it.” You whisper. “No matter how much I worked.” Several things click into place in that moment, the way you’d take Taiju as a client even if the other girls were scared of him, how much you’d naturally deferred to them, desperate for approval, all of it to earn more money for your brother, none of it for you. And more troublingly, none of it out of a sense of loyalty to Bonten. 

“So that’s why,” he says, moving you, so that you have to hold eye contact with him, he sees how dilated your pupils are. “That’s why you’re so good for us, hm? For your brother?” He watches you struggle, and then shake your head. 

“I’m,” you swallow, clearly struggling to for sentences, but when you speak you reframe it a bit. “I’m good for you because you’re good to me. I um,” you rub your eyes, trying to focus, remembering something you’d heard years ago. “I think it’s about what we owe to each other.” He nods, processing slowly, rubbing your back. 

“We’ll take care of it.” He says, deciding in the moment. “I assume you’ll want to move him yourself, one of the executives can take you when we have business in Hyogo.” You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, letting out a long breath. 

“Thank you,” you manage, “Thank you so, so much.” 

“You belong to us now.” He says, and feels you nod. “Do you have any tattoos?” He asks, and it takes you a beat, mind still moving slowly, before you realize why he asked.  

“No,” You whisper, not moving. He hums softly in response. You’re not sure how long he holds you on his lap, working quietly. You don’t feel like you can ask about Ran, not when Mikey’s agreed to give you this, but you find your mind wandering to him, wondering if he knows where you are, if he’s worried. It’s late when you squirm eventually, drawing Mikey’s attention from his computer. 

“I’m supposed to,” you sigh, “I’m supposed to be accompanying Mr. Haitani to his meeting.” Mikey balks internally, but isn’t quite ready to spread his cards on the table. 

“Go.” He says, letting you get up and stumble to the hallway, legs pins and needles. Your chest still aches, your face still throbs, but for the first time in a few days you feel like movement isn’t an ordeal. The hallways are empty, you pad across the soft carpeting, pausing at Ran’s door, knocking softly against the glass panel. 

“Come in.” You hear, and push it open just enough to fit your body through, closing it behind you. Something in his chest warms as he watches your face light up at the sight of him, and his lips curl into a little smile. “Hey, sweetheart.” 

“Hi.” You walk quickly over to him and then hover at the side of his desk, unsure where you should sit, he watches you decide between climbing in his lap and pulling a chair out, one hand hovering above the back of his leather backed guest chair, sitting at a slight angle next to his desk, your eyes flicking around nervously. “I,” you say, sitting quickly, having made up your mind. “You have a dinner appointment.” 

      “That I do.” He says, standing. “Heard you were a bit of trouble.” He watches the fear flood your face and chuckles. “Relax, I think it’s funny that you snapped at Rin.” He adjusts his suit jacket, today it’s a pale blue, “Besides, we’ll need to get you cleaned up a little,” he smirks, “Can’t take you anywhere, can I?” He reaches out and cups your face, you feel him rubbing at something and when he pulls his hand away you see the blood staining his fingers. “We’ve got time,” he strides towards the door, “C’mon, dinner’s at 11.” 

You’re whisked back to the apartment, Isami and Yuuta are back with little explanation, Yuuta driving you home, Isami grunting a half greeting to you as he holds the car door. Ran scrolls through his phone, keeping one hand on your bare thigh, glancing at you. You’d volunteered less information than he’d hoped for, even given his brothers reassurance. He waits until you’re alone to question you, until Isami is standing outside his penthouse door, and Yuuta is leaning against the cabinet in the kitchen. He’s patient enough to wait until the second the bedroom door closes, and not an inch more. 

“How was your day?” He asks, and you don’t catch the edge to his tone with your mind, it doesn’t arouse suspicion, but something deep in your emotional instincts bristles without interpreting the feeling. 

“Ah,” you start, and then decide it was better to tell the truth. “I was afraid.” You look down at your hands, Ran stops unbuttoning his shirt long enough to catch the genuine expression on your face. It’s dark in his room, the sun had set quickly behind the clouds, he leans over and flicks the light on, but it only means your face is set in deeper contrast, the shadow of your form more stark on his white wall. He watches you fidget, and then look at him again, and resists the urge to comfort you, to wrap you up in his arms. No, you needed to choose him, and he needed to condition you to do it as much as possible. “I was glad Rindou was there.” You say eventually. 

“And Mikey?” Ran says, nearly too quickly, just controlled enough to keep the tone casual. You shrug.

“Mikey’s been very kind to me.” And that’s it, that’s when you reach for him, right on fucking schedule, he accepts, taking your hand and gently holding you against his chest, “But I just feel safer with you.” You mumble, and fuck, he has to remind himself that you’re not lying that he knows you’re not lying, that he’s seen you broken, and drunk, and high, and even at your most vulnerable you kept reaching for him. He rubs your back. “If that’s okay to say, I don’t want to get you in trouble.” You feel his lips on the top of your head. 

“We can just keep that between us for now,” he gives you a squeeze and you wince, he ignores it. “Our little secret.” You nod. “C’mon. Let’s shower.” 

_____

“You were supposed to lose her,” Mikey snaps, pacing in front of Rindou. They’re still at the office and Rindou is draped over a chair while Sanzu arranges neat lines of cocaine on the coffee table. 

“I mean, you got what you wanted?” Rindou shrugs. “Seems like she trusts you a fuckton more now, you saved her, shame we didn’t get to spend more time in the office before that guy got aggro with me-” 

“Didn’t he get aggro with her?” Sanzu pipes up and Rindou shakes his head. 

“Nah, he was pushing me around. He was just using her.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Listen, Mikey, you’re not gonna get her attached to all of us the way she’s attached to my brother overnight.” Mikey stops pacing, his shoulders drooping a degree. “We don’t need her that bad,” Rindou continues, “She’s a nice to have. Not a need. In time, she’ll trust us. Ran was the person who picked her up when she was fully dissasociated and broken, twice, and I mean that literally. I’m sure there’s some chemical shit to traumabonding.” 

“Trauma bonds are weak.” Mikey mutters. “Temporary. I’d know.” Rindou wonders if he’s thinking of Izana, of Shinchiro, or someone else he’d lost. “Fine, you’re right though. She’s a nice to have. Get her tattooed and figure out which one of us should help her move her brother down to Tokyo.” 

“Will do,” Rindou stands, and stretches. “Can I,” he stops himself. “Mikey if you wanna fuck her you can fuck her. It’s just a cunt, you can afford it.” Mikey presses his lips together, Sanzu watches with eyes like saucers. “What you can’t do, is fuck her when she gets serious with my brother.” Rindou says, eyes darkening a little. 

“I know.” Mikey says, meeting his gaze. 

“For the good of this family,” Rindou says, shrugging. “That’s what you told her, that her and her brother are family now.” 

“I know.” Mikey repeats, fumbling in his pocket for cigarettes. “Get out.” 

“Cool.” Rindou says, flashing his palms and walking out of the room. Sanzu waits until the door closes to giggle. 

“He’s wrong,” Sanzu laughs, “You can fuck her whenever.” Mikey shakes his head. 

“I can’t.” 

“Why?” Sanzu shrugs. “It’s good pussy for sure.” Mikey sighs. 

“I want her to want it.” He rubs his eyes, “It’s fucking me in the head, I want her to want it so fucking bad.” Sanzu shrugs before leaning forward and doing a line.

“When I want something,” he says, panting, wiping his nose. “I just take it, you know?” 

“I know.” Mikey repeats for a third time, and Sanzu keeps talking but Mikey’s mind is gone, reaching within his ribcage for the last soft parts of himself, trying to remember what he’d been like when he’d been able to make girls like you blush and giggle, and not cower in fear. 

“I mean,” Sanzu says. “You could just kill Haitani.” There’s a pause. Mikey’s back is to Sanzu, facing the city, glimmering in the darkness. 

“No,” Mikey sighs. “No I couldn’t.” 

___

You and Ran are in the car, speeding across the city when his phone rings. The screen’s still shattered, it matches Rindou’s now, but when his brother’s face flashes across the screen he picks up. 

“Hey, dummy.” Ran says, slipping an arm around your waist. “Someone else get shot?” Rindou shakes his head, alone in his office with the door closed.

“Does it ever bother you?” Rindou asks, watching his brother take a puff on his juul. “Taking orders from Mikey?” Ran doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Not at all.” He shrugs. “What’s up?”  

“I’m asking because I feel it sometimes,” Rindou stumbles his way through the sentence clumsily, “Feel like that instinctual fuck you, who the fuck are you to tell me what to do? I mean, we used to run shit, we didn’t take orders from anyone.” Ran shakes his head. 

“That’s cuck shit, anway.” He straightens his shoulders. “Listen, I already did what Mikey’s doing, we already did it. And we did it without guns, without a gang, without makin’ too many threats.” A ghoulish smile flickers on his face, you shiver next to him. “And it was work, it was hard, and I thought to myself, after all that shit with Izana, how can I hold onto the parts of this I like, and get rid of the shit I don’t. Now, I follow Mikey, he tells me what he wants me to do, but I get rich, I get high, and I get the girl.” He shrugs. “What’s to dislike?” 

“You think leadership is cuck shit?” Rindou practically sputters. Ran gives you a squeeze.

“All I know is I woke up in bed with a beautiful woman, spent the morning gettin’ high with her, and then fucked her brains out. Mikey hasn’t gone to bed since last night at least, maybe longer,” Ran glances out the window at the snowy city. “And he started his day at his desk, worried about a dead body in a warehouse. There’s nothin’ there for me, or you, to be jealous of.” In his office, Rindou rakes his fingers through his hair.

“You’re so fucking confusing sometimes.” Rindou mutters, shaking his head and Ran laughs lightly. 

“Listen,” he says, “Kakucho said this shit to me once, that the only things in life that matter are the things that bring you happiness. I like the girl, so I’m keeping the girl.” A small spark burns in your chest as he speaks.  “I like Mcallan 25 so I drink Mcallan 25. I like my  Bentley, I like my penthouse, I like workin’ hard but not too hard. Youover complicate things,” he wrinkles his nose at the very idea of it. “You,” he says, “Get stuck between duty, and happiness, and expectation, which, is a fuckin’ minefield considering our line of work.”  Ran shrugs. “Me, I just go with the flow.” The car slows to a stop. “I gotta go have dinner with a beautiful woman and talk a bit about drugs over the best bolognese in the city. Try not to get your panties in an existential twist, maybe try finding some of that bratty pussy you like so much.” 

“Ugh.” Rindou groans. “Call me when you’re done.” 

“I won’t.” Ran grins, reaching for the door. “But you can call me. You can always call me.” Years flash in Rindou’s eyes, Izana, Juvie, their last halcyon days in Roppongi. 

“I know.” Rindou says. “I know I can.”