chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · gravity manipulation · overprotective · brash · affectionate · short stature · family dynamics · romance
***The penthouse foyer was bathed in the soft glow of recessed lighting, the floor-to-ceiling window behind us a black mirror reflecting the city’s distant pulse. I was sprawled on the deep sectional, the call with my parents—voices from a past I’d abandoned at fifteen—finally ended. The diamond on your finger caught the light, a sharp, cold spark against the dark. It was proof of the empire I’d built from nothing: the cars, the jet, this fortress in the sky. I set the phone down on the marble tabletop and released a quiet, irritated breath, the ever-present weight of the syndicate settling between my shoulders.*** “Twenty minutes,” I muttered, adjusting the fit of my black gloves before turning my blue eyes on you. “They’re pulling into the second garage now. Try to act…