Hanma Shuji Fluff - Tumblr Posts

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 2: Returning The Favor

Genre: Fluff?

Synopsis: Hoping to see your neighbor once again, you make your way home. What you don’t expect is to wind up getting chased by a gang!

Pairing: Hanma Shuji X Neighbor! Reader

Warnings/Mentions: Cursing, mentions of blood/injury, blood/injury, fear, suggestive mentions of SA.

A/N: heyyy luvs! Thank you so much for the support, it means a lot! Here’s a part 2 for the fic I had posted recently. I decided I’d continue with it, since I didn’t like how I just ended it off. I’ll be making more parts to this so stay tuned! (btw this one was a bit rushed, so I apologize in advance, but enjoy!)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3      Part 4

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It’s been a week since the strange encounter with your rude neighbor. Ever since that night, the thought of your neighbor never left your mind, and it bothered you. As much as you hated to admit it, he struck your curiosity. You had pondered many questions that had yet to be answered from that night, which was part of the reason why you were so eager to see him again. After all, the smudges of blood he had on his clothes that night didn’t go unnoticed by you. He didn’t even bother to tell you his name. Then again, he didn’t have to if he didn't intend to see you again. After all, seeing him that night was just by pure coincidence. If you had gotten home by 10, which was the usual time you’d be back from work, you probably wouldn’t have even realized he was home.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you hold your head in your hands, hunched over behind the counter of the diner where you worked.

“Hey, y/n!” Peeking from your hunched-over position, you see your friend walking over to you with her usual confident smile plastered on her face.

“Hey f/n.” I replied tiredly. She raises a brow at you. “You're messing with your posture, sit up straight!” She scolds. You can’t help but giggle at her mother-like nature. Straightening your back you smile. “My bad,” you giggled.

Your eyes wandered to her work bag that was slung over her shoulder. You tilt your head to the side, eyebrows knit together in confusion. "You're leaving early? I thought you had a shift tonight."

Her expression falters as she reaches for the back of her neck, avoiding your gaze. "Well...that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Oh?

"What do you mean?"

“Well, I know you hate to get home late and all since your apartment is pretty far, but I was hoping you could cover my shift for tonight?” She lowers her voice to a squeak at the end of her sentence, wincing as she waits for your response.

“No.” You deadpanned.

Pouting she whines, “Oh, come onnnn! It’s just for tonight!”

“I don’t care. You already know why I don’t work night-shifts in the first place, especially since I don't have a ride to take me home!” You scold, crossing your arms.

Anyone who lived in the Kabukicho District knew that it was dangerous for people to walk the streets at night. As soon as dark would loom over, thieves, gangsters, yakuza, and all other sorts of trouble would linger on the streets. The last thing you wanted was to end up in a dangerous situation where you were bound to get caught up in and regret later. To make things worse, you didn’t even know basic self-defense, so it was a given that it wouldn’t be worth the risk. Which is why you always stuck to your usual 10 AM-5 PM schedule.

“But y/n, there’s no one else to cover my shift tonight, and I really need to be somewhere later,” she pleads, clasping her hands together.

You raised a questioning brow, “What’s so important that you’d ask me to cover for you?”

“W-well--I happen to have classes later tonight..” She trails off, gnawing on her lip as she fidgets with the hem of her apron.

“Really?”

Rolling her eyes, she sighs dejectedly, “Okay! Okay! I just… I have a really important date tonight, and well... you’re the only person left to cover.” She shoots me a sad puppy look. “I promise I’ll owe you big time if you cover for me, he’s really nice and I don’t wanna stand him up!”

Now as much as you were completely against the idea of going home in the middle of the night, you began to consider the fact that your friend was basically begging you just to take over for one night. Not only that, but you knew that she was struggling with relationships and finding “the one” and now she has the chance to possibly go out with a guy that will treat her well.

You glanced at the desperate look she had once more and immediately turned your head to the side, trying to keep your stern facade up. However, your conscience certainly wasn't having it. Saying 'no' to her could mean that she could lose the chance to finally find true love. On the other hand, saying 'no' would mean you'd be saving yourself from a bunch of trouble that is bound to come along your way.

It is just for one night…

After mulling it over for what seems like centuries, you breathe out a defeated sigh, turning your attention back to your friend. You leaned towards her, putting up one finger. “One night. Just this once.”

She pipes up, immediately crushing you in a death-grip hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Y/n you won’t regret it I promise!” She squeals.

"Don't mention it, just make sure you tell me about how it went later, alright?" You groan.

Releasing me, she dashes out the door while waving off.

Four hours later...

It was safe to say that you, indeed, regretted everything you said. If there was a time machine available for you to go back and slap you four hours ago, you would use it. Here you were faced with a shadowy alleyway, which was the only shortcut that would get you back home without having to call a cab.

"Meow!"

Tensing up, you whip your head around until you're met with a pair of big green eyes and black fur. Sighing in relief, the tightness in your muscles slightly melts away as you knelt down beside the small creature.

"Hey there...you scared me." You coo softly, petting the bundle of fur. You take notice of the small, pink collar around its neck with a round golden tag with the name Midnight engraved in it.

"Where's your owner?"

"Meowww!"

"Would you like to come home with me?" Purring, it nuzzles against the palm of your hand. Your heart swells at the affectionate fur ball.  "Heh, I'll take that as a 'yes', then."

Gently, you scooped up the kitten and carefully placed her inside your work bag. Looking back into the dark abyss of the alleyway, you swallowed harshly as you slowly made your way through. At least you had company. As you're walking down the narrow space, you hear muffled chatter at the other end of the way. Getting closer, you could make out a group of burly, gruff-looking men in matching uniforms with a weird logo decorating the backs of each of their jackets.

If that alone didn't scream 'gang members' I don't know what else would.

You swiftly sought refuge behind a dumpster with piles of trash above it, as you peered out from the side to get a better look at them.

There were at least four of them. They all wore black gang uniforms with the symbol of a snake and dagger on the back of their clothes. Among the four, there was a taller man with pompadour-styled hair and tattoos littering his neck and hands.

"Hey boss, did you hear about the Grim Reaper of Kabukicho? He took out another gang!" A scrawny guy with a scar on his lip, pipes up.

Grim Reaper? What kind of comic book type of name is that?? But...the way he's talking about this guy, it sounds as if he's the devil himself.

"Pfft, you really believe in that shit?" Another chimed, shoving the scrawny man on the shoulder.

"It's true! My guy over in Shibuya told me so m'self!"

"Last time I checked you shouldn't believe n' a scammer, those types of people lie through their teeth for a living." Their boss grunts, lighting a cigarette as he leans against one of the motorbikes they had parked along the sidewalk.

"Meowww!"

Fudge me. Your hands shoot to your bag as you try to muffle Midnight's cries, but alas, it was already too late.

Your heart began to pound furiously. You pressed yourself up against the smelly dumpster, careful not to add so much weight against it as you silently prayed to whatever miracle worker above that the men on the other side wouldn't come over.

"T-the hell was that?"

Snickering, one of them slap's the other upside the head,"Ow!"

"What're ya pissing ya self for? It's just a cat numb nuts!"

Dragging the cigarette from his mouth, the leader of the gang hogs out a glob of spit before turning towards his men. "Let's go."

Releasing a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, you looked down into your bag as midnight pops her head out, innocent orbs staring at your frightened ones. "You are so lucky you're cute." you muttered, scratching your fingertip against her head. She purrs in response. Sighing, you slowly stand up into a crouched position from your hiding spot, faltering a bit. An odd tingling feeling is present in your legs as it spreads to your knees. It was as if your legs had become noodles after sitting down for so long. It isn't long before your knees completely give out as you try to balance yourself on your feet. Falling backwards, your back clashes against the dumpster, causing it to shift forward. Like dominos, the pile of trash above it topples over one by one.

Safe to say that you were royally screwed at that point.

Soon you were face-to-face with the four men now towering above you, each one with a wicked smirk present on their face. Gulping thickly, you watch as the leader crouches down in front of you, reaching a hand out to grip your chin harshly. "Boys...I found the kitten." He sneers, while the rest laugh. You grip onto his arm, trying to pry his hand away, but the attempt was nothing but futile. He's strong and it's safe to say that the rest of his posse were just as overpowering as he was.

"She looks like a stray, boss!" one of them jeers from behind.

"Please just let me go a-and I promise I'll pretend I never saw you guys." You plead, trying your best to wriggle out of his painful hold.

"Oh, sweetheart...why so quick to leave? Come hang with us, we'll show you a good time~" he coos, using his thumb to caress your cheek. You felt sick to your stomach. Your body trembling, as you feared the worst by what he meant.

"Meowww! Meowwwww!" glancing over, the man turns to Midnight, who had long abandoned the refuge of your bag. She hisses. "Aww if it isn't her feline friend! Here kitty kitty!" One of the men from behind taunts, while the rest chuckles at the lame quip.

With all of their attention focused on Midnight, you make use of the opening you had. Balling your fist as tight as you could, you swing on the boss, knuckles connecting straight to his nose. Surprisingly, the attack worked, despite the fact you had zero skills in fighting, catching the well-built male off guard. He falls back on his heels, back hitting the concrete. The rest of the men behind him turn and stare in shock, too stunned to move as they try to process what was going in the split second they had been distracted.

Struggling to get up, you fumble past the men and bolt past their bikes as you dash down the street while clutching your bag. Your hand felt numb, as you squeezed it around the strap of your bag, your knuckles stinging against the cold air. Your legs were sore, but you did your best to ignore the pain and ache as you kept running.

Vrrooom. Vrrooom.

The sound of engines and exhausts rang in your ears. Looking back, you see the familiar group of men tailing behind you, along with their boss, as they sped up on their motorbikes.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

One thing leads to another, you crash against what feels like a brick wall, which halts your actions of escape. The impact forces you to fall flat on your back.

Groaning you still before slowly sitting up, reaching a hand behind your back to help support you. You look up and your eyes widen.

The said "brick wall" was none other than your neighbor towering above you. He had on worn-out jeans with a white Henley shirt and sandals. A cigarette was nestled between his middle and index finger. The back of his hand adorning a kanji you couldn't quite read, since your vision was a bit hazy after literally falling on your ass. He flicks his golden orbs down at you, scanning over your distraught figure. Leaning over, he takes a drag of his cigarette as he stares at you. "What the hell are you doing?"

Seriously??? Is the bloody knuckles and sweat not enough?

"What do you mean 'what the hell am I doing'? Can't you see I'm running for my life?!" You scowl. It's bad enough you were being chased by a bloodthirsty gang, the last thing you needed was to deal with your neighbor's unsavory attitude. He raises a questioning brow as he keeps a calm expression on his face, as if he isn't about to witness his past savior about to be ripped apart like a rag doll. "Hm? Really?  From what?"

His question is soon answered when the gang of men finally catches up with you. The leader with a bloody, crooked nose, parks his bike as he makes his way over to the two of you, while the rest of his men follow suit.

"Well you certainly know how to attract a crowd y/n." He chuckles as he saunters towards the men, placing himself in front of you and out of their sight.

"Hey pal, you know this bitch?" The leader spits, eyeing your shaking form that was slightly hidden from your neighbor's tall figure.

"Hmmm maybe I do? What's it to you," the lanky male remarks, staring down the leader with a sanguine look.

"Hand her over, she's gotta pay for my nose," he stated, eyes throwing daggers in your direction. "This is between me and the girl."

Furrowing his brows, he turns halfway to your direction, before glancing back at the leader. "She broke your nose?" he asks, bewilderment evident in his tone. "That's what the fuck I said, ain't it?"

A moment of silence fills the atmosphere, that is, until your neighbor stifles a laugh.

Is he...laughing?!

It seems the leader and the three men that accompanied him that was just about to tear you apart were thinking the same thing, since they were just as shocked and confused as you were.

Your neighbor's small laughter turns into a full blown cackle as he holds his stomach, his voice ringing out as he bellows in fits of laughter. "The fuck's so funny?!" the leader yells, getting agitated by the minute as he watches your neighbor continue to drown in his own laughter, despite the seriousness of the whole situation.

Wiping a tear from his eye, he composes himself, catching his breath before grinning at the man. "Isn't it obvious?" The leader furrows his brows, still confused as to what he had meant. "You got sucker-punched by a girl, that's what!" he exclaims, slightly turning to wink at you. "I didn't know you had it in' ya doll~" he teases cheekily. Heat rises to your cheeks as you quickly stand up and shove his shoulder. "W-what the hell? You shouldn't be teasing me at a time like this! Are you insane?!"

"A little. I thought that was obvious." He smirks.

"Your fuckin' dead!" Turning to face the now red-faced male, he uses one hand to push me back as he gets ready to block the charging male's fist. Stumbling backwards your eyes are wide as you witness the scene unfold. Your neighbor's right hand is wrapped around the gang leader's fist and he swings his left, aiming dead-center in his face, causing his broken nose to gush out more blood. The impact of his punch causes the leader to stumble backwards as he grips his face in agony. "F-FUCK!"

"Dammit, my cig," the pale-skinned male mutters, completely ignoring his opponent's cries of pain.  "Why you-"

"B-boss!" the scrawny man from before chimes, all of them bug-eyed as they stare at your calm neighbor. The leader halts his actions, turning to face his cowering men. Pointing a trembling finger he states, "Those kanji, I recognize em'!" At the mention of the tattooed kanji on your neighbor's hands, you gaze at them once more. On the back of his left hand, the kanji "sin" was tattooed, and on the back of his right hand, the kanji "punishment" was also tattooed as well.

"What the fuck are you on about dammit?!" The leader glares at the now cowering men behind him. "H-he's the one! The one I was telling you about from my friend in Shibuya!"

Everyone, including you, had their eyes on your neighbor. Wait, what?

"He's the Grim Reaper of Kabukicho! Hanma Shuji!" The scrawny man blurts out. "It's nice to be noticed," Hanma chuckles. "Now, you wanna keep going? I must warn you, I won't go easy just cuz' a girl's standin' behind me." Holding his right hand over his eye, he lets out a howl of laughter. "What are you standing around for?! Get him," the leader barks.

Despite the mention of your neighbor's infamy, the gang were still prepared to fight. Surprisingly, it didn’t last long. The moment they had stepped within range they were all beaten to a pulp after a few swings to the face. All that was left was their leader, who still kept hostile to Hanma. They exchanged a few blows, neither one backing down. The leader aims for a punch at Hanma's stomach, causing him to double over and get a clean kick to the face. He stilled for a moment, body laying slightly still as he tries to get back up. You gasped, fearing only the worse for your neighbor.

I can't just stand here and watch him get beat senseless! Think l/n, think! He could die!

Looking around, you search your surroundings for a weapon, hoping to help Hanma fight off the towering man above him.

"So, any last words, you little shit?" The burly man taunts, looming his foot over Hanma's head. Hand tilts his head upwards, a crazed smile on his face as blood trickles from his mouth. "Fuck you." He spits. Frowning, he brings his foot down, only to be stopped mid-way as he sways to the side, groaning and holding his now bleeding head as he slowly slumps against the wall.

Hanma looks to the side, only to see your small, shaken figure holding a metal pipe in your hands. Letting it clatter on the cement, you bend down, holding his face in your hands. "Are you alright? Where does it hurt?" He hums, "Oh no, I'm just fine, I'm totally not bleeding right now." He mocks, slowly getting up as he pries your hands from his beaten face. Your concern immediately washing away as you glare at him.

"Y'know, now I wish I had let him stomp you, maybe you'd have some manners squished into that brain of yours."

"Oh really? I doubt that." He scoffs. Sighing, you walk up to him and grab his hand, which he tries to pull away from your grasp. "The hell are you-"

"Shut up." You blatantly state, a serious look plastered on your face. Dragging him by the hand, you lead Hanma back to the alleyway, where you had found that Midnight still resided near the dumpster. With all three of you together, you make your way back to your apartment.

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To be continued...

Thanks for reading! Comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

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

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“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.

The Delinquent Next Door - Part 4: It’s A Date!

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: With your world turning upside down, you begin to slowly connect the dots of who your neighbor really is. It seems that no matter where you are or what situation you’re in, it all relates back to Hanma Shuji. Things are moving a bit too fast for you...so, how will you manage?

Pairing: Hanma Shuji x Neighbor! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of violence/violent behavior, slight trauma mentions/suggestions

A/N: *gasp* THANK YOU SO MUCH! 😭  Honestly, I was about to abandon the whole thing, but since I've been getting a lot of questions about it, I'll be posting the rest of it every week or so. This part was kinda short, so I apologize in advance. Enjoy!

Part 1      Part 2      Part 3     Part 4  

Two days have passed since your near death experience with Hanma. 

Guess you could basically check off almost being murdered off your bucket list.

What a wonderful world we live in. 

After the experience of the unsavory adventure, you began to contemplate the events of that night, while trying to piece together the…interesting background of your neighbor. 

His infamous reputation as the most feared gangster in Kabukicho was very odd, seeing as how a normal individual, such as yourself, wouldn’t have a clue about him, yet those small fry gangsters knew him like he was some historical figure out of a history book. 

I mean, since when do gangsters do homework on other gangsters? Maybe there’s some sort of class specifically for delinquents or something?

You shook your head. 

This is crazy.

To be honest, you had to give him some credit.  Despite the ridiculous and underlying comical nickname as a “Grim Reaper,'' you understood why people–delinquents–feared him so much.

That night when witnessing the fight between him and those thugs was something you certainly would never forget. Not because of the shock or the adrenaline pumping through your body due to the obvious danger that was present in the situation but because of the fact that Hanma, at the time, wasn’t the same person you met. Or, in your eyes, wasn’t just the average asshole next door neighbor that you had bumped into. 

That night, you saw a completely different side of him aside from his crude and playfully cocky behavior. 

He wasn’t the idiot you saw trying to bulldoze his door because he was lazy. No, he was a guy who would have beaten the crap out of anyone that looked at him wrong without hesitation and a really, really, really scary delinquent. 

Certainly someone you wouldn’t want to piss off. At least, not too much. 

Just gathering that much pretty much made it clear that Hanma wasn’t exactly normal.

As a matter of fact, it’s almost impossible to consider him ‘normal’ after witnessing how he basically took life as a joke with little to no care for his own safety and well-being. Which makes him ten times as weird as you thought he was.

What kind of neighbor knows how to beat the literal shit out of people? No–what kind of person takes pleasure in violence? 

None of which you or anyone else knew, that’s for sure.

Nonetheless it seems that everywhere you go, trouble follows behind you, and so does Hanma Shuji. 

I should move….and get out of the neighborhood while I’m still in one piece.

“Hey…”

But that wouldn’t really benefit me much. It was hard enough finding somewhere cheap to live.

“y/n!”

You snap out of your thoughts, turning your full attention towards your concerned best friend.

She frowns. “Are you alright? Are you still in shock from what happened?”

You blink owlishly, waiting for her words to process.

Oh right, she still feels guilty.

You glare at her, landing a gentle smack to her shoulder, “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m fine! Quit beating yourself up already”

She frowns,“How can I not blame myself after you almost got hurt? All because of a stupid date!” she pouts, eyes watery as she takes your hand into her own, squeezing gently.

 “You’ve been so distant lately, and you’ve been on edge ever since that night,” she mumbles, once again squeezing your hand apologetically, “how can I not worry about you…” 

Ok, sure, it kinda was her fault. 

No, wait, scratch that–it definitely was her fault. But, hey, it could have been worse. If it weren’t for your crazy neighbor, you would’ve ended up in a body bag, yet here you are now, alive and breathing, and still working minimum wage at a run-down diner for a living.

“You say that as if I’m dead already,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes as you turn back to the register you were posted at, “and besides, as far as I’m concerned I’m still sucking air for the most part, so you shouldn’t be so worried. I’m fine.”

Bzzz!

Great timing universe!

Quickly fishing out your phone from your jeans pocket, you quickly glance at the new notification on your screen.

Jerk-Face Reaper: Meet me on the roof at 11 P.M.

Gee, my day was great, thanks for asking!

You: Why? 

He doesn’t respond, only having read the message as indicated underneath your text.

You huff, slightly gripping your phone as you curse him through the tiny device.

You: I’m not gonna come if you don’t tell me why. I have to study for exams tonight, so I don’t have time for you rn. 

“Who’s that? Is he a friend?” f/n asked, now leaning over your shoulder while scanning over your recent messages.

“I’m still trying to figure that out.” you sigh, placing your phone down on the counter.

She raises a brow. “Hmmm, why is he asking you out?”

Warmth creeps at the back of your neck. “He never said anything about a date!” you blurt out, clearing your throat as you set your phone down as you try to busy yourself at the empty register.

“Besides, we don’t know each other like that.”

She shrugs, “Maybe he wants to get to know you.”

Trust me, it’s the other way around. And not in the romantic perspective either.

“And what’s with the weird contact name? Something face reaper? Sounds like something straight out of a comic book.”

What is this? An interrogation?

Intentional or not, those were some damn good questions, none of which you wanted to answer. 

Bzzz!

You snatch your phone from the countertop, looking over to see your best friend caught up in a conversation with the cook.

Jerk-Face Reaper: Just come. 

You: …

You: You can reach me at my apartment, I’ll be studying. Goodbye :)

Jerk-Face Reaper: …

Jerk-Face Reaper: …Please?

You grinned.

You: Aww, such a sweetheart! I’ll take it. See you at 11!

“Aw, so it is a date!” f/n coos from behind you.

So she’s just spawning out of thin air now?!

“I-its not! I swear!” you groaned, hiding your face in your arms.

I hate it here.

Carpooling with Hanma

Hanma turns to look at you as the speakers are blasting and you're singing at the top of your lungs, eyes closed, hands in the air and hair swishing in the wind. He swore he fell in love with you all over again.

Content Warning: making out, thigh grabbing, marriage mentions, love sick Hanma, he may be a bit ooc but in my delusions hes very in love with me

Spotify Playlist: Hanma's carpool karaoke

Hanma has a headache. A big one and it is YOUR fault. He should've known that it was a mistake when you asked him to go for a “drive around”. At first it was pleasant and he was actually having a good time in the comfortable silence, windows rolled down and warm breeze hitting his face. Quiet peaceful moments like these with you, he cherished due to his violent chaotic life. It was quiet and peaceful till he noticed you resting your chin in your hand, looking out the window, and pouting. “What's wrong doll?” he questioned, looking at you, concerned. He turned back to look at the road ahead when you glanced at him and whined out, “Shuu, I'm so bored!” He scrunched his face in confusion and asked again, “You're the one who wanted to go for a ride, was that an excuse for me to get you something to eat?” He blinked at you smirking, as if he had figured you all out which only served to irritate you more. “NO! Can a girl not hang out with her boyfriend?” you crossed your arms over your chest defensively which made you look even more suspicious. Hanma raised his eyebrows and nodded his head, “yeah sure”. He said snorting. You turned to him and gasped, arms still crossed and staring at him with betrayal in your eyes. Your dramatic reaction only made him laugh more. You tried your best at hiding the smile that was creeping its way to your face, but you just couldn't, you laughed along with him. It was hard not to laugh with the funniest person you know. His laughter died down as did yours when he pulled into an empty parking lot. Hanma put the car into park and swiveled his eyes to admire you. You both stared into each other's eyes till his eyes met your smiling lips. His face crept closer to yours and he gave a peck to your lips, then another, until eventually he just grabbed the back of your neck and brought you into a deep kiss. With his other hand he grabbed your thigh and squeezed. You giggled into the kiss at his neediness and he pulled away lips swollen, hair messy, eyes glossed over and looking at you so love sickeningly sweet. The sight of him staring at you made butterflies burst in your stomach and you looked away blushing. “Stop staring at me Hanma”. “Oh now you're shy? And what happened to ‘Shuu~’” he mocked you, laughing. You turned to him and gave him the dirtiest look you could muster up. He let out a quiet giggle and started up the car once again. “Well, Hanma, I'm gonna blast my music and I don't wanna hear any complaints from you”. At this threat he took one of his hands off the steering wheel and used his fingers to squeeze your cheeks and pucker your lips. “Enjoy your music doll”. He sighed out, taking his hand away. Now he's almost an hour into your playlist, still driving without a destination, head pounding due to the very very loud music and you next to him yelling the lyrics. He takes a deep breath and smiles. He glances at you and the realization dawns upon him that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you someday. He brings his attention back to the road and blushes at the thought of marrying you someday.

a/n: if hanma was real, i think me and him would get along. our personalities are similar in a lot of ways

𝐘♡𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 ?

hanma shuji x gn!reader; fluff, comfort - 1.3k

request: can i request a hanma x reader where hanma defends the readers honor? don’t really have a plot for this, and id like it as a drabble, but whatever u see fits!

a/n/cw: thank you for requesting! i love to see hanma be protective over reader so this got a little (a lot) longer than a drabble LMAO. please enjoy! im quite proud of this sniff cw: reader gets uncomfortable with violence - reader's feelings get invalidated by a member of valhalla, it's implied hanma beats him tf up, descriptions of injury, violence, and blood - spoilers to valhalla arc!

cheers erupted loudly in the hollowed room that was filled with old, half-assed operating arcade machines. whistles rang out from the scattered men that huddled closely around the phenomenon occuring in the middle of the dirtied floor: former toman member and captain of the first division, baji keisuke atop his vice, viciously beating him to a bloodly pulp.

chifuyu matsuno—you had heard hanma mention the name earlier, the boy with blonde locks and teal eyes. however, from the beating his face was getting, it would be hard to recognize him at this point. his left eye had already swelled in on itself, while the right blossomed in darker shades of purple and red underneath baji's fist. his previously neat hair, now tousled and messed around from the impact of hits. his nose was unquestionably broken, and from the numerous cuts that scarred his face, stitches would be needed.

a spurt of blood spills from his mouth, and you jolt, tightening your hold on hanma's hand. currently, you were seated on his lap on his makeshift 'throne', your body close and nuzzled into his'. you flick your eyes away from the terrible sight in front of you, and hanma's eyes leave the scene to study you. worry washed over his expression. he licks his lips, and grabs your attention with a soft touch against your wrist.

“... you okay, baby?” hanma questions, large gold eyes glimmering with a solemn gaze. he knew that seeing such violent acts on an almost day-to-day basis was a lot for someone to handle—especially for someone who wasn’t accustomed to such a life.

this was a prominent reason as to why hanma never failed to ask for your consent; to completely confirm whether or not you would like to be present during such situations. your comfortability and safety was his number one concern. if that wasn’t fulfilled—then, everyone be damned.

though you look at him and nod once, and even try to smile. but hanma knows better; “if you’re not feeling well, i can take you outside. i’ll even stop this whole thing, yeah?” he comforts, pecking a kiss on your temple.

your eyes close at the feeling and sound of his voice and body so tight against your’s. you clutch his hand tighter and push your head into the crook of his neck in attempt to silence the sounds of loud yells and impacts of fist on skin. you hear chifuyu whimper loudly out of pain, and your façade breaks: a small tear runs down your cheek without notice.

hanma immediately perks up at the sight, eyes wide and alert, and thumbs reaching up to wipe the stray tears from your cheeks. you murmur quiet ''s okay''s and 'don't worry about me, shu'', but he shushes you consolingly, removing his valhalla jacket to wrap around your curled up figure—and hiding your wandering eyes from baji, chifuyu, and everyone else around. there was no need for you, or them, to see one another. not in this moment, while you were frightened and upset. all of hanma's attention now, was on you.

—until a boy from his left, decided it was a fun idea to stick his nose into you two's business. a loud laugh from beneath the make-shift stage of the arcade, and hanma's eyes shoot down to the guy who was staring at you; presumably, this entire time. hanma's eyebrow lifts at him, almost daring the boy to elaborate just what that laugh was about. you try to crane your head behind your shoulder, to see the cause of hanma's demeanour change, but he didn't allow it; a protective arm wraps around your torso and squeezes your side.

the boy poses his hands defensively at his leader's continued glare. "woah there boss, what's with the harsh look?" he chuckles, but hanma doesn't find it amusing. "i'm just saying, if your baby"—he spews the petname mockingly—"can't even handle a small beating like this.. then maybe you should find someone new."

oh? hanma almost laughs at that, in total fucking disbelief at this guy's audacity. 'he's got some steel balls, huh?' hanma's lips quirk into a open-mouth smirk, sharp canines peering through ever so slightly. his head tilts, then he tauntingly responds: "you wanna repeat that? ♡"

the guy clears his throat, a small jitter now notable in his movements. yet still, he stands his ground: "i just think it's nothing to cry over, talk about being a literal baby." a couple surrounding guys giggle over the comeback, while others stare at the guy with complete incredulity.

although you're not facing them, you can still hear all the comments being made about you. it was as if they all decided to just disgard you as a fucking human being with feelings and emotions. like an object placed on their leader's lap for show. you breathe deeply, as the tears in your eyes well up once more.

a vein in hanma's forehead twitches. 'his fucking loss.'

before you can even comprehend it, you're being placed onto the chair, no longer situated on hanma's thigh. above you, hanma's stands tall—his looming figure higher than anyone else in the room.

the laughter drags on for a bit, the boy seeming to enjoy the attention from his teammates, until the loud thud of a plastic cart falls onto the floor. the contents inside spill out, and some break into dangerous shards of glass.

hanma retracts his foot slowly, and begins to pace himself down the stairs. his eyes lock with the boy, who's face was gradually draining of colour. the teammates who previously laughed with him, scurried out of hanma's way to make room as he towered through the crowd.

"you," he pointed straight at the guy, his voice serious and low. a couple more steps, and he was now directly in front of him. a moment passes, and the boy finds himself nervously gulping at his actions—and for what's to come. a devilish smile decorates hanma's face, a dark and cool dim accentuating all his edges and shadows. "let's play, yeah? ♡"

before the boy could even think to defend or dodge, a swift fist flies straight into his vision, and a loud crack erupts at the point of contact: his nose.

the sheer force of the hit causes the guy to lose his balance and fall hard on his back. one of his hands shoot up to hold his profusely bleeding nose and the other stretches out towards hanma. rapid profanities spill from his mouth, as his eyes widen in utter fear and shock. "—jesus, fuck—what the actual hell man?!" he cries out, crawling away pathetically in hanma's eyes. "it was a fucking joke! shit-ow!.. y-you broke it.. i think you broke my fucking nose!"

hanma crouches down to his level, head tilting menacingly as he scans the brutal mess of the guy's face. "you needed the fix anyways," he decides, and loudly cackles to himself.

hanma's cold eyes narrow, and a dark feeling overwhelms those witnessing this. "don't speak to me or my partner like that ever again." he leans in, angling his head next to the boy's ear and whispers sharply: "or it's the hospital i'll be sending 'ya to.. kay?"

the boy nods quickly, his breath shallow as he stutters meaningless apologies. he's still bleeding, but hanma couldn't care less. he nods once, opting to wipe his bloody knuckles on the boy's jacket, before standing up and returning back to where he sat you down.

he stretches his wrists and shoulders, groaning at the stupid interruption. "are 'ya alright, baby?" he asks the moment he makes it back to you, his voice uncharacteristically soft. he squats down, his large body effectively blocking everything and everyone from your sight once more. "i took care of the asshole, he won't be saying jack shit no more."

you nod, a small smile—a genuine smile—appears on your face. you thank him, pressing your lips against his for a few moments, and pulling away only for him to chase your mouth for another. you giggle into the kiss, making hanma grin ear to ear.

hanma pulls away for air, quietly mumbling to you: "i've got you.. always, okay?"

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