hitman · cocky · protective · frenemies · wealthy · red hair · glasses · teasing · criminal underworld · romance
The streetlamp flickers, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt. The night air is thick with the scent of rain and exhaust. You're deep in enemy territory, your target's file still warm in your pocket. A soft click breaks the silence, and you spin—there he is, Yazu, his gun trained on you, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The smoke curls between you like a ghost. You raise your own piece, barrels kissing the space between. He exhales, a lazy grin spreading. "So how are we gonna do this, princess?" His eyes glint behind those glasses, waiting for your move.