Day 5 Of Writing Bonten Men In "The Office" Scenarios

Day 5 of writing Bonten men in "The Office" Scenarios

Rindou:*Puts on his glasses as he does paperwork*

Sanzu: Hey Rindou, here's the report- *gasps* Oh my god...

Rindou: ...What?

Sanzu: Oh my god-what the hell is that on your face?

*Rindou confused as hell*: What's on my face???

Sanzu: Are you wearing a disguise or something?? You look awful!

Rindou:...

Rindou: Sanzu wtf, I'm literally just trying to see.

Requests Are Open!!

heyyy luvs 💛 I’ve decided that I will be officially opening up requests starting today. However, I do have some guidelines that are set in place, so please take the time to read them before making any requests! (dm me if you have any questions, I will be happy to answer them!)

➙ What I DO Write:

Headcanons

Oneshots/Short Scenarios

Reactions

Series

Fluff

Comfort/Hurt to comfort

Crack/Humor

AU

Inspired by

Fanfics

Trauma/disorders

Character x Reader (I mainly do female reader. I struggle a bit with gender-neutral, but nonetheless I'll do my best with gn)

Imagines

Blood/gore/death/Hurt/no comfort/Angst

SLIGHT smut (I'll usually leave off on a fanfic where the rest can be up to the imagination)

➙ What I DON'T Write :

Anything involving Smut/NSFW

Poly-relationships (I'm a bit of an inexperienced writer, so it's hard for me to pull this kind of stuff off, but this will change at some point)

Character x Character

Yandere (I'm still getting a feel for it, so this will change)

How Can I Submit A Request?

You can submit a request on my website or you can just dm me. Whichever is more comfortable!

(I’m still working out some things for my page to make it more organized but this is the best I can do so far lol)

Fandoms I Currently Write For (this will be updated constantly with new fandoms):

Tokyo Revengers

One Piece

Anything that hasn't been listed or mentioned, you can ask me to do and I'll put it into consideration, so please don't be afraid to reach out! Again, if there are any questions about my guidelines dm me, I'll be happy to answer all questions. As always, stay well and hydrated my luvs!

The Delinquent Next Door - Part 1: Strange Encounter

Synopsis: You come home, only to see your neighbor trying to break into his own apartment. What’s more? He’s a complete jerk!

Pairing: Hanma Shuji X Neighbor! Reader

Genre: Fluff? I’m not sure- (Neighbors to lovers)

Warnings: Mild cussing, insults, mild mentions of blood and violence

A/N: This is my first time posting on here, so I hope you enjoy! (check out part 2!)

Part 1    Part 2     Part 3     Part 4 

All Hanma wanted was to be able to pass the time with a couple of beers he had snagged from the shitty, run down convenience store around the corner near his apartment complex. 

Kisaki hadn’t called him up to take part in another one of his adventurous schemes that he had planned for the night, so he decided to take the opportunity to relax for the night and just wait for him to call him out in the confines of his small, shaggy apartment. 

But, that plan immediately went to shit after he had performed an entire body search on himself for the past half hour for the one thing that was keeping him from entering his apartment.

Just fucking peachy.

Cursing under his breath, Hanma continues to aggressively search his soaked  hoodie and jeans for his keys. 

Just where the hell could they be? I could’ve sworn I left with them...

Then, he pauses, and in that moment, realization slapped him across the face.

Before he had went to the convenience store, he had saw the chance to pick a fight with a few small fry gangsters that were nearby. The reason behind it? Simple. He was bored. And, while doing so, it had started to pour, but, of course, that didn't stop him. 

However, it didn’t occur to him at the time that there was a possibility that he could’ve dropped his keys while he was having a field day with the poor souls that happened to ‘stumble’ across his way. 

After all, he couldn’t just go home without having a little bit of his own fun. Wreaking havoc was something that he needed, so his life didn’t feel as dull as a rock. Picking fights was the same as eating and sleeping in his mind. 

Anyone who took a glance at him, let alone witness the way he would walk around with his clothes that were occasionally decorated with small blood splatters as well as coupled with his bloody knuckles, would know right off the bat that the word ‘peaceful’ didn't exist in his world. 

That included his next door neighbor.

However, the current question remaining was how he was supposed to get inside without his keys.

The answer he was looking for immediately surfaced in his mind.

Guess I’m just gonna have to kick the door open.

Sure, instead of busting down the door like the heathen he is known to be, he could just ask the landlady for the spare keys to his door. 

But, then he'd have an earful of the old hag’s nagging, and that's the last thing he needed to add to his night.

Besides, there wasn’t anyone around to scold him for it, so it was the perfect chance to bust down the door without getting reprimanded in the process. 

Huffing, he lets the plastic bag he had slinked around his wrist drop to the floor with a heavy thud.

He plants his left foot down, while he readies his right foot to kick the door. 

Lifting his right foot up, he shifts all his weight into his leg, forcing his foot forward as he lands the first kick against the door. 

He repeats the action for a few minutes, until he sees a slight crack in the opening, but not enough to completely open it.

Another one should do it.

Before he could kick the door again, he stops mid-way when he hears a familiar voice ring in his ears.

“Excuse me.”

His body completely freezes, as if he was stuck in time for a moment. 

Slowly, he brings his right foot down, and turns his head to the side, only to see the one and only person he’d least expect to be out so late at night.

You. His fellow next-door neighbor.

Usually, you’d be home by 10 and have classical music blasted all night long. How exactly does he know this? 

He just happens to watch stalk you from the stairwell on the second floor whenever he’s out for a smoke. Your routine was quite predictable.

His golden orbs scan over you, observing the tension in your muscles as he casts his gaze at you from a few feet apart.

You wore plain jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, along with an ugly-looking, dark brown apron with nothing but your flimsy name-tag adorning it at the top right corner.

The awkward silence didn’t do the situation any justice as you held the stare of the tall, lanky male, who’s clothes were in the same condition as your own.

“Um...I know it’s not any of my business, but... I don’t suppose you need help getting in?” Your voice slightly trembled, but it held concern for the infamous delinquent.

Furrowing his brows at the offer, he glances at the slightly cracked door and back at you.

“You want to help me break down the door?”

Your eyes flew wide open at the response. 

“Is that what you’ve been trying to do?! Do you not have your keys?” You questioned.

He shoved his hands in his muggy pockets and shrugged. “Lost em’.”

“Why not ask the landlady then? You do realize you are gonna have to pay for the damages? Or even worse, get kicked out?,” You interrogated, folding your arms over your chest. The tension in your body completely melting as you scold the tall male, as if he were a child.

The admonishment and questioning was annoying, yet...cute? 

A smirk tugs at his lips. How amusing it was to get scolded by his usually quiet neighbor. Hell, he’d go so far as to try to add more fuel to the fire. 

“Well I certainly ain’t gonna wanna answer to the old bat, so do ya got any better ideas doll?” The cliché pet name rolls smoothly off his tongue. Funny how he’s trying to to be flirty, despite the odd situation he was conversing with you in.

“Watch your mouth,” you retort. 

The response only causes to further grow the devious smirk on Hanma’s face. His amusement at the small banter doesn’t go unnoticed by you. 

“If you’re so bothered by going to ask the landlady for the spare keys, then you could just pick the lock.”

“Do I look like a burglar to you?”

“I didn't mean it like that!”

He hums, “Sure.”

Strike one.

“Besides, I wasn't talking about you.”

His eyes widen for a moment.

Wait...what?

Shocker much? To Hanma it certainly was unexpected. 

Hanma had never expected his shy, passive neighbor to even have an idea on how to break inside someone’s home. Let alone have the knowledge to pick a lock.

Funny how you can learn a lot from people you barely interact with in just one night.

He quirks a questioning brow as he points a slender finger to the door. Once again, glancing from it and then back to you.

“Are you telling me...you know how to pick a lock?”

Silence. 

You turn your head to side as heat rises to your cheeks. Subconsciously, you slightly shift from one foot to the other.

“Well...I mean...”

“You can pick a lock?”

Strike two.

This jerk.

You whip your head back to him and scoff. 

Unbelievable.

I guess this is what happens when you try to be helpful to the infamous delinquent of Kabukicho. Give em’ and inch and they take a whole damn mile. 

You knew better to expect this, but you were raised to help others, no matter who they were or what they did. Regardless, he was starting to tick you off.

Just how cocky is he?

If only you knew.

“Yes, I can pick a lock.” You force out, feigning confidence in your answer, despite the fact that you were perfectly capable in doing so.

He narrows his eyes, the same shit-eating smirk stretched across his face. “A goody-two-shoes like you can pick a lock? I don’t believe it.” He mocks, folding his arms as he leans against the cement balcony.

And there goes strike three.

“Why you-! You know what. Fine. Good luck busting down your own door!” You huff, as you turn on your heel towards your own apartment room door, fishing out the keys from your apron’s pocket.

“Sure. Thanks!” 

Just who does he think he is, that little-

You pause. Huh?

For a moment, you could feel a twinge of guilt settle in the pit of your stomach. 

Sure he was a jerk. No doubt about it. But, your conscience nagged you a little more about considering his side of the story. 

It was bad enough he’s soaking wet and not even able to get inside to change into dry clothes. He could catch a cold and, in the end, still get into huge trouble with the landlady. 

If you were being honest with yourself, the old landlady wasn’t as much of a saint either. She was quite bitter towards others when she wanted to be (which was everyday when someone even breathed the same air as she did). 

You sighed.

An idiot. That’s what he was.

Biting down on your lip, you reluctantly turn back to see your troubled neighbor once again prepare to bulldoze his door.

You watch as he readies himself to once again to kick it down. 

“Wait!”

A frustrated groan leaves his lips as he snaps his head back to you, only to find you knelt down in front of his door, two hairpins stuck in between the lock as you tinker with the small pieces of metal.

Hanma blinks owlishly a few times.

That was quick.

Oddly enough, Hanma finds himself standing beside you, leaning against the wall while watching carefully as you work.

____________________________________

It doesn't take long until you hear a familiar click of the door unlocking.

You quickly stand up, while picking up the wet plastic bag that had been forgotten long ago.

You peek at the contents, taking notice of the four cans of beer and bag of cheese curls.

The sudden bitter smell of nicotine and the puff of smoke invades your senses.

“I believe that's mine,” he interrupts, gently taking the bag from your hands. He walks inside his room, stopping midway through the door frame, while turning back to you.

“By the way,” he pauses, taking another drag of the cancer stick that was nestled between his parted lips, “What’s ya name?”

For a moment, you blanked at the question. 

“[f/n]. [f/n] [l/n].”

He smiles.

“Thanks for the help, doll~”

You let an exasperated sigh.

“You ask for my name, yet you still use such a corny nickname for me? You’re infuriating.”

He shrugs. “I only asked cus’ I was curious. Get used to it.”

You frown. “Jerk...” you mutter.

You pipe up at the sound of a snort followed by a deep chuckle emitted from the male.

I help him and this is how I’m treated? The nerve!

Silently cursing your conscience once more, your thoughts are interrupted.  

“Nice to meet ya, [f/n]. I’ll see ya around, yeah?”

You absentmindedly nodded.

But, before you could muster a question of your own, he shuts the door without another word.

Now, there you were, standing in front of your neighbor’s half-beaten door, completely stunned.

You shake your head.

You make your way inside your own room while closing the door behind you. Slipping off your shoes and hanging your keys, you silently trudge your way over to the old record player where you would faithfully play Mozart all night long. 

After washing up and settling yourself in your bed, you lay awake as you replay the events of tonight with your troubling neighbor in your mind.

You chuckled to yourself. How silly. 

Sighing, you look out the window of your apartment with a content smile resting on your face.

Deep down, you hoped to see the neighboring delinquent more often. Hopefully, not in an odd situation as what you experienced tonight.

____________________________________________

The Delinquent Next Door - Part 3: What Are You, A Doctor?

Genre: Fluff?

Synopsis: From knowing how to pick a lock to identifying a broken rib, it seems you are nothing but full of surprises. However, your neighbor continues to test your patience. Maybe he’s in need of a free vasectomy? Who knows.

Pairing: Hanma Shuji X Neighbor! Reader

Warnings/Mentions: Mentions of blood/injury, mentions of broken ribs, cursing, mentions of violence, mentions of surgery, mentions sharp objects, threats, self-doubt, self-blame, mentions of pain, suggestive themes, name-calling, mentions of killing

A/N: Alright, here’s another part! Thanks again for the feedback and support, you guys are seriously amazing ♡ I’ve been thinking about opening up for requests that any of you guys would like me to do. Tell me what you think! I’ll have my guidelines and rules posted soon, so stay tuned! Anyway, I hope you enjoy the new chapter! As always, stay hydrated and well ❤️

Part 1       Part 2       Part 3      Part 4

___________________________________________________________

“Ow! What the hell?” Hanma hissed as he slightly jerks his head away from your gentle grasp, glaring daggers at you after your failed attempt to apply the alcohol-soaked cotton ball to one of the many cuts that littered his bruised face. “I barely even touched you! Stop being such a baby and quit moving,” you huff, once again taking his head in your hand, leaning towards him with tonsils in hand, ready to continue disinfecting the cut on his cheek.

“I didn’t ask you to patch me up.” He frowns, pushing your hands away from his face as he quickly stands up from the couch that you had instructed to seat himself in after inviting (shoving) him inside your apartment to clean up the aftermath of the brawl he had just been in hours ago.

“Listen doll, it’s been fun and all, but I hate stayin’ in debt. Now that we're even, I have no business with ya anymore,” he curtley states as he makes his way to the entrance of your apartment.

You toss aside the surgical instrument you held on to the steel tray you had set beside you on the coffee table, which you had seated yourself on, while stalking over to Hanma.

You grab Hanma by the back of his shirt collar, turning him around. Gripping the front of his shirt, you force him down to meet you at your eye-level. 

“Shut up and let me help you!” you snapped. “You almost died tonight because of me! After all that, you think I’m just gonna leave you like nothing happened? Like hell!” 

“I-” you don’t give him a chance to protest, quick to cut him off. “You are not in any ‘debt’ to me. As far as I am concerned, it's the other way around. You saved my life,” you voice, your breath hitching slightly, your words getting caught in your throat as you feel the unsettling guilt fester and churn in your stomach. 

If he hadn’t stepped in, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place…

You shorten the distance between yours and Hanma’s face, giving him a better view of the anger that burned in your e/c orbs. 

“Now listen here. You are going to sit back down and stay so I can finish patching you up, then you can leave afterwards. Got it?” You shake him a bit, eyes staring him down, searching the dumbfounded male for a response.

Without another word, he replies with a simple nod of his head.

Slowly, you loosen your grip off of Hanma’s dirtied, white shirt before guiding him back into the living room. He situates himself back on the couch, grimacing as his breath hitches, meanwhile you reclaim you seat across from him on the coffee table.

Gently taking picking up the tonsils containing the soaked cotton ball, you gently grip Hanm’s chin, slightly turning his head. Gently, you glide the piece of cotton around the cut, careful not to cause too much pain before you start to dab on the wound itself. Once finished, you replace the tonsils with a cotton swab coated in ointment. You gently smear the product on the cut before sealing your work with a hello kitty bandaid.

You do the same for the rest of his minor wounds. While you worked you snuck glances at Hanma, watching the twinges of pain splayed on his lips and catching the small winces he produced as you disinfected and bandaged the rest of the cuts that littered his body.

“Alright, now are we done here?” he groans, a look of disgust present on his features as he scans over the cutsie bandaids peppered across his hands, arms and face. “Nope.” You chirp, getting up and going to the kitchen to fetch two plastic bags. Coming back, you toss the piles of blood-stained cotton balls, used cotton swabs and bandage wrappings in the bag, while placing the tonsils and dirty silver tray in the other bag.

“Don’t move, I’ll be right back,” you say. “Yes ma’am,” Hanma mutters mockingly.

Rolling your eyes, you head into the kitchen, throwing away the bag of bloody trash while making a beeline towards the bathroom to go fetch some more supplies, noting that you would clean the equipment later.

Five minutes later Hanma watches you emerge from the narrow hallways with gauze, medical tape, and a dusty tin box. What joy.

Plopping down next to him, you place the items on the coffee table.

“Strip.” You ordered as you sifted through the items.

Hanma freezes at your command and immediately turns to you while shooting a questioning stare your way.

Opening the tin box, you fish out rubber gloves, sliding them onto your hands as you take out a pair of medical scissors and a small brown corked-bottle. Taking the scissors you turn to face Hanma, who greeted you with a weirded-out look engraved on his face.

Glancing to the side and back to him you stare back at him. “What?”

“You want me to do what?”

You knit your brows together, “I need to you to take off your shirt-”

“Uh uh, that’s not what you said doc, you told me to ‘strip’.” He states matter-of-factly.

“I-,” You sigh, as he gives you a smug once-over as he folds his arms, grimacing once more, as he waits for your explanation. Or in his case, an excuse. 

“What I meant was I needed you to take off your shirt.”

“Hmmm...that’s certainly one way to get to a man’s heart.”

“I didn’t mean it like that you pervert,” you uttered, refusing to meet his gaze. 

“You sure? Then, why else would you want me half naked?” he teases. 

You stiffen, slowly turning your head to face him with narrowed eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because there’s a good chance you have a broken or fractured rib?” You quipped.

Hanma’s face immediately drops. “How did you know…?”

“I’ll tell you if you get that dirty shirt off and let me do what I need to do,” you offer, giving him your own smug once-over. Begrudgingly, he complies. Reaching for the hem of his shirt, he tugs it over. Or at least tries to. He could barely make it over his head, the large black and blue bruising on the right side of his torso making itself known, hinting that Hanma would certainly be having one hell of a time just trying to take off his own shirt. Watching him struggle, you chuckle, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the frustrated delinquent.

“What’s so fuckin’ funny?” he glowers. 

You couldn’t help but giggle once more. Who would’ve thought a feared gangster could be so hopeless? Shaking your head, you motion for Hanma to come closer. “Here let me help you.”

Scooting over more, you reach out and gently grasp the hem of his shirt, using the scissors in your other hand to cut upwards through his shirt.

 “Seems you're the only pervert here doc.” he smirks, staring at your focused gaze. You pause your actions, peeking up at him. 

“Have you forgotten that I have a sharp object near you?”

He shrugs. “So what? You plan on killing me if I piss you off enough?,” he cheekily taunts.

You smile, malicious intent oozing from behind the sweet facade you presented. “Of course not~” You cooed. “After all, I’m a doctor, not a murderer.”

“That so,” he replies. You hummed, honing in closer to his face. “However, I have always wanted to try performing a vasectomy on a patient,” you mention, watching as his smirk slowly diminish.

Clearing his throat he replies, “I-is that so?”

You hummed once more. “So, if you value your reproductive organs, I suggest you don’t test my patience any further.”

Returning to the task at hand, you manage to take off his shirt without much movement (or distraction), discarding it as well as the scissors on the coffee table next to the items organized on it.

“Now, I’m gonna press down on the bruised area, when I do, I want you to tell me if it hurts or not, ok?”

“Sure thing doc-SHIT!,” He howls, grimacing.

Safe to say, with a few more well-deserved pokes and prods, his rib was, indeed, broken. Grabbing the brown bottle, you take off the cork and begin to apply some of the oily product on his ribs, rubbing light circles into the bruise using your gloved-fingers.

Sniffing, he gags. “What the hell is that smell? Are you smearing shit on me or something?”

You stifle a laugh. “N-no, it's to help the bruising. But, regardless, you need to rest for a few days. It’s obvious you’ve got a broken rib or two.”

Once you were done, you take off your gloves, tossing them with the discarded shirt and grabbing the dressing and medical tape, you begin to bandage his waist. The whole time as you semi-mummified Hanma, you couldn’t help but take in his toned torso. Noticing how each time you made a lap around his waist with the gauze, you could see the slight flex in his - quite visible - abs. It took all your willpower you could gather not to lose your composure, motivated by the fact that you'd never hear the end of it from your egotistical savior.

Once you were done tightly wrapping his waist, you snipped off the dressing and tucked it neatly in the folds of bandaging. “All right, your set.”

“Finally,” Hanma mutters, quick to get up, only to be forced back down as a twinge of pain burns in his chest. Groaning, he holds his side.

“I told you you need to take it easy. What don’t you understand?” You scold as you packed up the medical supplies back into the tin box.  

Hanma throws a pout your way as you discard his shirt and the used gloves. You make your way back to the bathroom, placing the tin box back where it belonged as well as the gauze and medical tape and taking the opportunity to wash your hands to rid yourself of any lingering germs.

Padding back into the living room with a fresh shirt, you're greeted with an unbelievably cute sight. Hanma laying on his back on the couch as Midnight seated herself comfortably on his torso. You couldn’t help but squeak at the sight, drawing both of their attention towards you.

“She likes you, huh?”

He smirks, “Yeah, more than you~”

Rolling your eyes, you walk over to him, tossing the shirt on his face and using the chance to make off with Midnight. "Hey!" Giggling, you pad into the kitchen with Midnight cradled in your arms. "Who do you like more, me or the scary gangster?"

"Meow!"

"Good choice!"

After serving dinner (which was instant ramen and another can of tuna), Hanma speaks up, "How did you know I had a broken rib? Like, before you started poking me n' shit."

"Hmmm..." pondering the question, you take a sip from your cup of juice. "Well...I noticed that every time you moved your torso a bit too much, your breathing would hitch slightly and become erratic. Also, you were grimacing a lot every time you moved too much. One of the few signs of a possible broken rib is when it gets hard to breathe because a patient feels a burning or painful sensation in their chest.”

"Well I'll be damned..,"he mutters to himself, propping his elbow against the coffee table, while resting his head in his hand.

"So you're a doctor, huh?"

You couldn't help but snort at the label. "Not quite," you say, shaking your head. "I dropped out of med-school mid-way through getting my Phd. So technically, I'm not close to anything as an official doctor." You uttered, toying with the chopsticks of your empty bowl of ramen.

"Official or not, you are one hell of a doctor." You raise a brow. "Is my snotface of a neighbor paying me a compliment?" you mused.

"Hmmm, don't push your luck smart ass." He retorts, a small smirk forming on his face. You snickered. 

There's a comfortable silence that settles as the chatter between you two dies down. However, it is only brief, as you take the chance to ask some of your own questions.

"So..." Your voice knocks Hanma out from his slightly dazed expression, turning his attention to you and away from his empty cup of beer.

"So?" He questions.

"So your name is Hanma Shuji, right?"

"In the flesh." He simpers, winking at you. "It's nice to finally know your name after a week of just acknowledging each other's existence."

"Hm? I never told you my name?"

You grip your chopsticks. "Do you not remember slamming the door in my face without even bothering to use my name properly?"

"Not really, no."

Of course he doesn't. The lousy jerk.

You huffed. "Well, it's nice to know my infamous neighbor's name...," you grumbled, downing the rest of your juice.

"By the way..."

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For stepping in and beating up those gangsters. I mean...," you pause, searching your thoughts. "If it weren't for you, I'd be in a bodybag by now."

He sighs, "Don't mention it."

"No, I mean really-"

"It's not a big deal." He cuts in. "It was only fair since you helped me with the door and all," he mumbles, tossing his gaze over to a random part of the room. 

"Besides, I was bored anyway, so I needed something to entertain myself, and it just so happens that trouble seems to follow you wherever you go." 

That's it...

You threw your empty cup at his face. 

"What the-did you just throw that at me?!"

"I did, what're you gonna do about it?" You remarked.

Hanma attempts to get up, only to be greeted with the familiar harsh sensation in his chest, squeezing a groan from him.

Clapping your hands together you smile warmly at his pained expression. "Well, I'm gonna head to bed. I'll see you in the morning, Shuji."

Standing up, you grab the empty bowl of ramen and cups, placing them in the sink before heading to your room. Leaving your wounded neighbor to make the floor his new bed for the rest of the night.

"I'm sorry for the long comment on your fic-"

Please don't be?? I mean, you actually take the time to write paragraphs about something I wrote?? It's so cool?? I cry happy tears when I get comments like this on my fics??

Here's to the people who write long comments on fics, you're one of the reasons I keep writing 💫

I can only assume the worse for the poor soul that ends up on the blacklist-💀

Ready to help

A small crack cenario with the bonten guys and you asking them for help for something.

contains: swear words, implied killing, guns and hopefully stuff to make you laugh 🙏

that panel of rindou still cracks me up he so goofy💀

request

—

You see the door that leads to Bonten’s little gathering room. You open it and breath out a relieved sigh to see every one of them there. It’s such a rare opportunity when they’re here of free will and not cause of another ‘investment’. You sit down beside Kakucho at the round table.

“I need your guys help.” You say out loud for everyone to hear as you pull out your phone. You see everyone gather around the table.

“What would you like us to do?” Kakucho asks from your right side, as he leans towards to peek on your phone, curiosity written all over his face.

“I need help with this guy?”

“Guy?!” Practically all the men around the table yelled that out in surprise, in disbelief and in utter shock. You look at all of them in disbelief.

“What kinda guy? A bitch?” Rindou who was sitting on your other side, asks as he peeks onto your phone as well.

“Is it a embodiment of cringe guy?” Now it was the other Haitani brothers turn to ask.

“A guy from our blacklist?” Mikey speaks up and everyone looks away from you to look at him. And then looks back at you with grins plastered on their faces. You clearly knew what was going through their mind. Being on the well known dangerous crime syndicate Bonten’s blacklist is asking to be completely wiped from earth in way or another. And knowing these men, they won’t hesitate to make that happen.

As soon as they hear you sigh, all of them look at you in surprise and wonder. Why are you sighing?

“All of you..” you start off and they look like they’re listening intently as if you were preaching about only the benefits there is to beat ‘bad’ people up.

“Shut the fuck up and listen.” You smile widely at them. Not in humour but as to come off passive aggressive and hopefully threatening. There is no way you can threaten these men but it’s worth trying. And all of these men took the opportunity to internally swoon over your smile, even though it wasn’t one of your genuine ones.

“This guy,” you emphasize on the ‘guy’ which everyone not so subtly, look like they’re shuddering at the mere sound of the word. They really do wanna be the only ‘guy’ in your life.

“Asked me out.” As soon as you said that, one after one stands up, adjusts their expensive white shirts and cuff sleeves and loads their gun. And you see how Kakucho was about to snatch your phone away from your hold before you manage to pull it back in time.

“Sweetheart, I want you to give me your phone.” He smiles, not his usual gentle smile but the ‘listen or it’s consequences.’ one and it should be terrifying to you but it isn’t.

“No.” You sternly retort and everyone stop adjusting their weapon holster to look at you.

“Why not?” Takeomi asks, exhaling a smoke from his cigarette and one brow raised, looking at you in subtle confusion.

“Because you annoying men need to properly listen.” As you say that, Mikey shrugs his shoulders and nods his head. “Go ahead.” He says.

“We are listening now.” Mochizuki speaks up and you continue on with what you’re going to tell them.

“This guy asked me out and I need your guys help to reject him.” And as soon as you utter that, everyone slumps down on their seat, loosening their tie, unloading their gun. You swore you heard someone ‘Thank God.’ You look at all of them in amusement.

“Thank the crime syndicate your brain is functioning properly.” Kokonoi places his palms together as if he’s praying to whichever god in the ‘crime syndicate’.

—