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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.

HII! I hope you’re taking care of yourself :) I wanted to request TR boys sneaking in your room at 3am to wake us up and do some stupid stuff with them but they end up confessing afterwards. If not then that’s totally okay have a nice day/night!!

I Just Wanna Be Yours

Includes: Kazutora, Hanma, Ran

Note: I recommend playing I Wanna Be Yours By Arctic Monkeys for a better experience! Enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of weed, mentions of alcohol/alcohol consumption (not underaged drinking), slight suggestive teasing in Kazutora's part. Rest is fluff.

Kazutora

Usually every other teenager would jump at the chance to sneak out in the middle of the night to do god knows what unholy things as a result of them surely getting grounded for life by nagging parents. But, you were different. 

Unlike your friends who always stayed out, doing their own thing, you decided to spend your weekend enjoying time to yourself while relishing in the joy of getting a full eight hours of sleep before transitioning back to dealing with your stressful weekday routine of high school. Your mom was out of town working, so there wasn’t any point in sneaking out. Besides, you preferred staying home compared to running the streets.

You enjoyed the time alone and getting a good night’s rest was a bonus!

You had already freshened up and changed into a comfortable set of pajamas. Slipping into the warmth of your comforter and numerous pillows, you sighed in content. 

There was nothing better than getting ready for bed after relaxing on a Saturday. 

Everything was just perfect. The room was cool, your bed was warm to perfection, and your eyes were already droopy, ready to be closed for rest. Nothing could prevent you from sleeping through the night. The moment your head made contact with your pillow, you were out like a light. 

But of course, all good things must come to an end. 

It seemed as if you hadn’t fallen asleep at all when you were suddenly startled by the sound of what seemed to be small pebbles knocking against your window. 

Your eyes flew open at the small pangs against the glass. You quickly sat up, heart beating partially fast at the sudden disturbance. You glance at the window, and then to your nightstand where your digital clock sat. Squinting, you briefly check the time that glowed across the small screen: 3 A.M.

Who on earth could be up at three in the morning throwing rocks at my window??

You certainly didn’t know. Anyone who knew you knew better than to disturb you on your weekends. 

Once again, the pang of rocks against your window rang in your ears. 

Groaning, you rubbed your temples. 

“This is ridiculous…” you muttered, already annoyed at the disruption of your precious sleep.

Reluctantly, you slipped out of bed and quietly padded over to the window, determined to find out who could possibly be disrupting your sleep at this ungodly hour.

Unlocking your window, you slide it up, and peek your head out.

“Pssst! y/n!,” a familiar voice whispers from below.

Cocking a brow, you look down, only to be met with a pair of golden eyes and a familiar head of blonde and black locks.

“Kazutora? I-Is that you?” you replied in the same hushed tone.

“Quick! Throw down the rope will ya?”

He must be joking.

“Go to bed!” you deadpanned.

His eyes were wide, “W-what? Please! It’s cold!”

You sighed tiredly, glancing back inside your room and back to your pleading friend. 

“Wait there!”

He smiles in reply, nodding as he waits for you to throw down his entrance to your window. 

Searching your closet, you found an old knot of sheets you had made into a rope. After all, this wasn’t the first time Kazutora has shown up to your window asking to be let in. However, it was the first he’s ever come unannounced. He knew better, so why not warn you ahead of time?

You tie one of the ends to your bedpost and throw the rest of it down. Afterwards, you settle yourself on the edge of the bed that faces the window. Patiently, you waited for Kazutora to climb through, which didn’t take very long. 

Less than five minutes later, he managed to get himself halfway through. Soon he’s slumped against the floor, grinning like a dork at you.

Frowning, you crossed your arms.

“Don’t tell me you're mad at me for waking you up?” he quipped.

“Kazutora…it’s too late to be pulling stunts like this. We’re not little kids anymore.” you huff, giving him a pointed look.

His grin staggers, flashing a guilty grimace. “I-I know, it’s just…I didn’t have any plans so I was hoping we’d go on–I don’t know–a little adventure,” he pauses, glancing back at you and then shooting his gaze at the ground, “like we used to…” he sighs.

Your harsh stare softens and your shoulders relax. 

“If you wanted to hang out, you could’ve said something,” I whispered. 

He perks up, hopeful eyes captured by your own. There’s a pause, a quick silence.

“You know I won’t say ‘no’ to you Kazutora.” You breathe out.

There’s more silence between you two, and at the moment, you didn’t even care that it was late and you were losing sleep. You didn’t want him to leave, but it was hard to really sit in the same room with him right now. It was tense, and neither of you dared to speak up. 

There’s a sudden shift in weight next to you on the bed, looking back up, you turn to the side, meeting your friend’s slightly flushed face.

“Hey, um,” he clears his throat, “that…was a lie.”

Your brows furrowed. “Hm? What do you mean ‘tora?”

Situating himself more comfortably on your bed, he folds his arms, holding your curious gaze.

“The truth is…I just…I wanted to be with you. I-I missed you, I guess.” 

You blinked a few times, processing his words carefully so as to not mistaken his intentions. But, once it clicked what was going on, it was pretty clear to you as to what the poor boy was trying to say. So far, he was as red as a tomato, and it killed you at how cute he looked. You got the hint, but you would rather hear it from him.

“What’s that mean?” you asked coyly, leaning in towards him with a grin. You dropped your hands to your sides, awaiting a response from the struggling juvenile.

He takes a shaky breath, swallowing thickly as he considers his next words. 

“I just…I couldn’t stop thinking about you s’all…” he mumbles.

Clicking your tongue, you get on all fours, slowly crawling towards Kazutora until he’s backed up and eventually trapped between you and the mattress.

“Kazutora, do you…like me?” you teased.

He nods, his head hazy and spinning from the close proximity. “I-I do!”

After the small confirmation, you were satisfied, immediately collapsing on top of him and snuggling into his chest. 

“Good. ‘Cuz, I like you too!”

Groaning, he envelopes you in a warm embrace, returning the small ounce of affection.

“W-why didn’t you say something sooner then?!” he whines.

“Because you're cute when you’re nervous!” You laughed airly.

For the rest of the night, he stayed with you, falling into a deep sleep in the comforts of your warm bed.

Hanma

There wasn’t a night that went by that Hanma didn’t appear from your bedroom window. He was always welcome to use the front door. You even went as far as to give him an extra key to your apartment. 

However, according to your manic friend, using the door “wasn’t as welcoming” compared to using your window as an entrance. Either way, you didn’t mind Hanma’s company or his random appearances. 

It was comforting in a way. It was like a fresh touch of color to your daily plain routine.

Tonight was exactly the same. 

Hanma had recently texted you not too long ago, saying he’d drop by to hang out. Per usual, you had opened your apartment’s window, waiting for Hanma to climb down the apartment balcony staircase. 

From there, you would wait in your bed with a book in hand as you waited for Hanma.

Ten minutes later, there’s a knock on the wall. Turning your attention from your reading, you meet with the familiar wicked smile of your awaited guest.

“Hey there sweetcakes. Missed me?” 

Rolling your eyes, you bookmark your page and place the book on your nightstand.

“Hardly.” you lied.

Hanma scoffs, climbing through the opening of your window with a noticeably big plastic bag in hand. 

Tilting your head slightly to the side, you eye the items in the bag with a questioning stare. 

“What's in the bag?”

“Hm? This?”

He grins, proudly raising the bag in his left hand as if he had just found gold, “I’d thought we would make some weed brownies and try ‘em!”

“W-weed WHAT?!” you choked, baffled at how calm he was at the sudden proposal of doing something very much illegal.

He cocks a brow, “Hm? What? You don’t like brownies?” He questioned thoughtfully. 

You were ready to smack him upside the head and scold his ass right on the spot, but you caught yourself and recollected your composure before losing your cool.

“Hanma…it’s not normal for ordinary people to spend the night making weed brownies.” you sighed, smoothing the lines on your forehead.

“Where the hell did you even get the weed?”

“I know a friend,” he simply shrugs, walking over to you and casually situating himself next to you on your bed. 

Both of you rested against the headboard of the bed, enjoying each other’s company in the quiet with nothing but the rambunctious sound of the ongoing city of Kabukicho filling the gap between the two of you. 

“Have you ever made a weed brownie before?” you chimed, staring at the chipped ceiling of your small apartment. 

“Yeah, plenty of times.” he muffledly replied, lighting the cigarette that rested between his lips.

“Let’s make some tomorrow.”

He gently blows a puff of smoke, smirking as he turns his head to you, “Sure thing Sweets.”

You chuckle at his ridiculous pet name, while a warmth spreads across your chest, rising to your cheeks. 

“Hey…” he pipes up, turning your gaze towards his own. “I’ve, um–been meaning to tell you somethin’.”

“What’s that?” you asked warily, a small grin gracing your tired features.

“...I really like you y/n.” he sighs, once again exhaling a large cloud of smoke from his thin lips. 

You knit your brows together, eyes searching his expression for any foul play. 

“Hanma…” He turns his gaze back to you, “did you eat a weed brownie before coming here?”

He flicks your forehead.

“Ouch! Hey!” you rub your forehead while using your other free hand to swat his shoulder.

“That’s for asking dumb shit. Of course I didn’t.” he scoffs, mildly glaring at you.

You huff, settling down in your spot as you process his sudden confession. 

“But, why?”

“Hm?” he furrows his brows, taking small puffs of his cigarette before resting it between his fingers. “Why what?”

“Why do you like me?”

There’s a heavy silence weighing down on the two of you. Hanma stares at you for a little longer, before turning his attention to the blank, dull walls of the room. 

“I like you because you're different.”

You return to face him with your own stare. 

“Different, how?”

He smirks and returns your fixated gaze, “Give me a chance and you'll see~” he winks. “You won’t regret it.”

You did give him a chance. And you never regretted it at all.

Ran

You weren’t expecting a visit from Ran. Especially through the window of your run down apartment building. 

You just came back from taking a double shift from work. It was well past 2 in the morning and all you wanted to do was crash for the night. 

Trudging through your apartment, you kick off your shoes and sling your bag on the couch. 

You make your way over to the fridge where you kept a bottle of wine. Grabbing the bottle you take it with you into your bedroom. 

Once you close the door behind you, you turn around and are met with a familiar lanky figure in your bed. 

“Oh, great your home.” Ran casually exclaims as he thumbs through a random book from your shelf. 

He glances at you and then down to the wine bottle in your hand. Cocking a brow, he folds his arms and says, “Rough night?”

“Yeah,” you sigh dejectedly, trudging over to his spot and settling next to him in the bed. 

“Mind if you share that?” he asked, nudging his elbow gently to your side with a tired smile.

You hum, handing over the bottle while you stare at the static TV screen. “Go ahead.”

He gently grasps the bottle, easily unscrewing the cap and downing a good mouthful of the bitter liquid before handing it back to you.

“You should seriously get that thing fixed.”

“I don’t mind the static…” you wearily say, downing your own mouthfuls of the harsh liquor.

“You had a rough night yourself?” you asked, looking over to him to study his features more closely. He’s usually covered in cuts and bruises, sometimes after getting into another brawl. Tonight was just that.

Ran’s once porcelain, smooth skin was now littered with small cuts and a few bruises. Nothing major to damage the face. You could even go so far as saying he looked more handsome when he was a little roughed up. Of course, you would never admit it out loud. He’d never let you hear the end of it.

“You could say that.” he chuckles, turning his attention to the static of the TV. 

“Wanna talk about it?” you asked.

“...would it make me feel better?”

“You tell me.”

He stays quiet for a moment, shaking his head.

“I got into a fight.”

“Well duh, I already know that dummy.” you sigh, pinching your bruised cheek.

“Ow, so mean.” he pouts, turning to face you again. 

You suppress the smile creeping on your lips and press them into a firm line.

“Why did you start a fight?”

“Bold of you to assume I’m the one who picked a fight first.”

You give him a pointed look, ignoring the lousy answer. Your eyes narrow as you press for the truth. 

“Ran.”

Now it was his turn to sigh. “Ok, so I did start it first, so what?” he huffs, staring back at the TV. 

Your gaze softens at his hardened tone. You gently take his hand and squeeze down gently. 

“Why?” you voiced softly.

Once again he goes quiet, attempting to find the proper answer to your persistent questions. When he does, he doesn’t look at you, he just continues to stare at the static screen of the TV.

“Because they mocked the woman I care about the most and I’d be damned if I didn’t teach them a lesson about bad-mouthing you.” he muttered irritably, his hand tightening around your own. 

You were shocked, not just by the subtle confession, but also by his angered expression.

For the first time, you saw Ran Haitani angry with someone else besides his little brother. And deep down, it touched you knowing that he cared. 

Smiling, you wrap his arm around your shoulders, scooting closer to him and pulling the covers over the both of you. 

“That’s fine with me.” you whispered against him.

"Really?" he whispers back.

You hummed," Yeah. I'll let it slide this time. But afterwards, not more pointless fighting."

He smirks.

"Yes Ma'am."

For the rest of the night, the two of you sat in each other’s company, eventually falling asleep in a warm embrace.

New Part!!

Heyyy guys! Sorry for the inactivity, school has been a lot. I have just finished and published a new part for The Delinquent Next Door on my wattpad account. So feel free to go ahead and read! There will be more parts to come, but, as promised, here's a few crumbs from the next chapter, enjoy! (feel free to follow my wattpad for more! <333)

Wattpad: authorluvgxbby

Conflicts and Thunderstorms

"W-who is it?" you called out loud. 

There was no response, only the loud crackle of lightning and the harsh wind blowing. 

You quickly dash to the kitchen, grabbing a frying pan as a weapon (in case it was some sort of creep), and darting back to the front of the door.

Swallowing your fear, you crept toward the door, raising the frying pan you had retrieved in one hand, while the other hand slowly unlocked the door and gently grasped the door handle. 

You breathed in a shaky breath: 1...2...3!

Swinging the door open, you grasp the pan with two hands ready to swing at the imagined creep knocking at your door, until you stop yourself at the sight of an all-too familiar person. 

There was Hanma, slumped against the rails of the apartment floor, soaking wet, covered in bruises and what seemed to be his blood. He struggles to lift his head, which slowly revealed his battered face that was littered with cuts and black-and-blue bruises. 

"What..." he gasped, "w-what took you so damn long to...open the...door..!" he choked out.

You were stunned, eyes wide as you could feel all of your fears and adrenaline fade as your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach at the sight. Your mind went blank along with the rest of your senses. For a split second you didn't seem to notice the cold wind harshly whipping against your body, or the feeling of rain swiping across your face. The one thing you were aware of was getting Hanma inside.

Update!

New part in The Delinquent Next Door: "Another One Bites The Dust" on Wattpad

Hi guys! As promised here's an update on my fanfic The Delinquent Next Door on my Wattpad! Follow me for easier updates on it as well as some more fanfics I will be publishing. Your support means a lot, so please like, comment, and follow my wattpad for more. Enjoy!

Preview:

"You're so selfish, and always looking for trouble, and I bet you think that at the end of the day there's no harm done and that you're the only one who has to deal with the problems that tags along with you but that's not true at all because the moment there's an issue, you rope others into it and expect them to deal with it too."

Slowly, you lift your head up, bitter eyes once again setting upon Hanma, only this time your met with his apathetic gaze. You stare into his yellow orbs, hoping to find some sort of sign that the words you spoke was registering in that jailed mind of his. Hoping that if you searched long enough, you could see a trace that he cared about what you said, how you felt, how much you were hurting because of how he was acting.

But, that was nothing but fickle thought. His face was nothing but a blank slate.

"I knew it," there was a crack in your voice as you spoke. You feel his grip tighten around your wrists, which was all the response you needed. You tried to yank yourself away, but his iron hold on you was firm. He stared at you for a moment longer until he finally spoke.

"You're right. I don't care," he simply states, his expression remaining unchanged, "but that doesn't mean I am not aware of how you feel."

Your eyes widened at last statement. He sat you down next to him, and relinquished his grip on you while your attention remained on him.

"I don't give a damn who I hurt in the end, and usually that would include you too, but...,"he pauses, tilting his head slightly in thought, "--but for some reason I feel differently about you."

And he left it at that.

The Night of Color and Wishes

Hey guys! It's been a while, but I hope you all are doing well! Go check out my new chapter of The Delinquent Next Door called "The Night of Color and Wishes"!

After the sudden bomb-drop of a confession, Hanma continues to lead y/n down the fluorescent town of Kabukicho to a...shrine??? What once was a night out in town soon became a night of reflection and secret wishes, will love ignite between the two?

Preview:

"It doesn't have to have meaning, it can be anything. Don't think about the impacts it will have or whether it will come true or not."

"Then what's the whole point in wishing at all?" I asked out loud in thought.

"There is none, and that's what makes it fun. It's the mystery behind it. Will it come true? Or is it all for naught?"

You glance at him, this time skeptically, with raised brows, in which he responds with a childish giggle.

"You'll never know unless you try!" he encouraged with his one-of-a-kind bright smile.

You sighed in defeat as you picked up your pen and flipped over the paper on its other side.

Hanma quickly shifts and turns to the opposite side so as to not face you.

You scoffed, "It's not that serious Shu'."

"Shu?" he asks.

Heat rises to your face like a boiling pot of water.

"I-I mean–"

"I like it." he cuts off, a hint of genuinity laced in his playful tone. "And it is that serious, now write it down before you forget the wish."

"Don't rush me!" you scowl, gently poking his back with your pen, which he playfully howls in response.

Closing your eyes, you clear your mind from any and all thoughts. You stay like that for a while until you finally open them and write down the first thing that pops to mind. Once your done, you quickly set your pen aside and hurriedly plaster your piece of paper on the same side of the shrine next Hanma's piece.

You let out a quivering breath, as if your life had just been put on the line. Maybe it has in a way. You wouldn't know unless the future revealed it at some point.

"You ready?" Hanma asks from behind.

You turn around and smile.

Once the both of you had sealed your wishes with thanks, both of you made it down the shrine hand in hand.

When the both of you made it to the bottom, you tugged Hanma's hand, prompting him to stop.

"Hm? What is it?" he asked.

To be continued...

Go follow my wattpad and read for more!

Wattpad: authorluvgxbby

Story: The Delinquent Next Door

Playing House

You and Hanma had always loved playing house ever since you were young, and he played the role of a husband so well.

Warnings: afab!reader, minor violence, blood, slight himedere!reader

Imagine this, seven-year-old Hanma Shuji who towers over his peers due to his ridiculously imposing height, making it easier for him to intimidate kids his age, even if he didn’t intend to at first.

Seven-year-old Hanma Shuji would always stand in the middle of the playground alone, because everyone else basically avoided him like the plague, in fear that he might do something to hurt them just because he looked slightly different than everyone else.

Seven-year-old Hanma Shuji quickly learned to use this to his advantage, and he does so by bullying his classmates into doing things for him, like carrying his bag, or doing his assignments, etc.

He never brings his own lunch to school, and that was mostly caused by the absence of his mother and the lack of solicitude provided by his now single father, so he’d always steal his classmate’s lunches, and they’d always give it to him willingly without him having to put up too much of a fight.

He would also punch anyone’s teeth in if they dare to disobey him (though to be fair, he would do this for fun anyways).

Imagine seven-year-old Hanma Shuji, who after a while, got bored of getting whatever he wanted, so he starts to think that maybe he craved the company of other children his age after all.

He’d always watch the kids play with each other, and the one thing he notices often, is that children like to play house. Where one person, usually a boy, would pretend to be the husband, while a girl would pretend to be the wife, meanwhile the rest of the children would be their kids.

So he’s decided, if the other kids wouldn’t come over to befriend him, then he should bring the other kids to him, right? Yeah, that makes perfect sense.

There you were, sitting amongst your friends, eating lunch in peace when suddenly Hanma’s tall figure came looming over you as he starred at you blankly with a smile that has mischief written all over it.

“Can I help you?” you asked, failing to notice all the other girls around you practically shaking like a leaf upon his presence alone.

Without warning he picks you up over his shoulder like you were a bag of rice, ignoring your persistent complaints telling him to put you down.

Eventually he dropped you to the ground and knelt in front of you so he could level his face with yours before saying “We’re going to play house now” in the most nonchalant way possible. “I’ll be the husband, and you’ll be my wife~♡” he chirped happily with a Cheshire grin.

To his surprise, you didn’t start crying immediately, like all the other girls he’s approached thus far. Instead, you huffed and crosses your arms over your chest, acting like what he did had offended you greatly. “Husbands don’t treat their wives like a brute Shuji! If you want me to be your wife then you must treat me as such” you chastised.

“For starters… husbands usually give their wives rings” you say as you wiggle your tiny fingers in front of him, as if to emphasize your still ringless hand.

Hanma was too stunned to speak. Although after a while, he came back to his senses and when he does, the flabbergasted look on his face was quickly replaced by the wicked grin he was more known for. He really likes you, he decided at that very moment. ‘She’s interesting’ he thinks, before rushing off without saying a word.

Seven-year-old Hanma Shuji would walk over to a group of random girls and grab one of them by the wrist, before pulling her over to the neatly lined up potted plants in front of their classroom and force her to weave a ring out of the pretty pastel flowers, merely because you told him you wanted a ring.

When you requested a crown to go with the ring, he’d tell the same girl (or multiple girls) to go and make flower crowns especially for you. That, or he’d yank a headband from a random girl’s head before presenting it to you because that’s just what husbands do.

You’d always sit on one specific swing-set whilst you wait for him to retrieve whatever it is you'd asked for, and naturally the swing beside it belongs to him.

God forbid anyone dares to steal your swing from you.

He’d make sure right then and there just who that swing-set belongs to. He’d make someone carve your names on it with their fingernails if he had to.

Though of course, what is a perfect husband without his perfect wife?

He wasn’t the only one playing. You also played the role of the perfect wife so well for him.

Whenever he managed to successfully do your requests, you’d give him a bright smile before jumping at him to give him an embrace. He no longer has to steal lunches from other kids because now he has you to bring him lunch. That way you guys could eat together like a couple would!

And whenever someone snitched on him to the teachers, you’d always have his back and tell the teachers that it wasn’t his fault and that the other kid started it.

Hanma would do anything for you. All you have to do is say the words and whatever you want is yours. He’d remain playing the role of a husband for you, and when twenty-eight-year-old Hanma Shuji stood outside your door, face splattered with blood with some smearing on to his glasses, and a devilish smile adorning his face just like all those years ago with a diamond ring in hand (the one you'd specifically said you wanted but could never get, because apparently someone else had gotten it before you), you just can’t help but beam up at him and say “Yes”.

A.N: not me listening to High School Sweethearts by Melanie Martinez at the dead of night as I imagine Hanma treating me like the queen that I am. Kisaki you one lucky bastard, I also want Hanma to be my ride or die goddamit!

◇ FRANKENBABY ◇

frankenstein!Hanma may look like he’s tough and intimidating (and he is) but deep down he’s just a big baby who could barely take care of himself, especially after getting into a fight with werewolf!Draken. And who would be better to take care of him if not his favorite witch?

Warnings: supernatural AU, gore (decapitation, eyes falling out, mostly because Hanma is a Frankenstein), suggestive themes towards the end, use of curse words

For a normal person, opening your door to see a beheaded person is surely something out of the ordinary, but for you… this was something familiar.

“Hey babe” you heard him greet, and your eyes cascade down to his detached head that he held in his tattooed hands. You said nothing in return and instead raised a brow quizzically, expecting him to explain to you what happened before letting him in.

Truth be told you knew exactly what happened, you just wanted to know how and why it happened. “Who did you get into a fight with this time?” you finally asked when he did not explain. “It was that stupid mutt Draken!” he clicked his tongue upon the mention of his nemesis’ name, then he walks past you when you stepped aside to let him in.

“But Draken usually wanders in the south side… what were you doing on that side of the forest?” you asked curiously as you looked through your cabinets for supplies, and he made himself comfortable on your living room couch.

“Harvesting blood” he replied simply. The empty spot on the couch beside him dipped as you took your seat, with a needle and thread in hand, and you helped situate his head on his neck before you start to stitch from the right side of his neck.

He’s been doing that a lot lately, visiting the village on the south to harvest blood from the humans as per Kisaki’s request. The “young” vampire had just celebrated his 114th birthday a few months back, and from what you’ve heard, vampires at that age tend to get hungry all the time.

It made a lot of sense that he would constantly pester Hanma to go out and fill up his blood supplies but what you couldn’t understand was: “Why couldn’t Kisaki just go out and go hunting on his own?”

“Doesn’t blood taste better if it’s… you know… fresh?” Hanma just shrugs. “He doesn’t like leaving that dusty old mansion of his” you rolled your eyes at his curt remark but retracted your attention back to stitching Hanma’s head back onto his body. Considering how big and strong of a werewolf Draken is, Hanma was lucky he only got his head ripped off. If Hanma wasn’t as strong himself, Draken would’ve gnawed him like a ragdoll… which he is… technically.

“Stay still Shu!” you scolded. Even without looking at him directly, you knew he was looking at you with a smirk. Without warning, he lunged forward so that he could give your forehead a quick peck, and you would’ve been flustered had you not been so annoyed.

“Shuji! You’re lucky I was halfway done! Your head would’ve fallen right off!” he ignored your insistent naggings, instead broke out into a fit of laughter. He just so loves to see you getting all riled up because of him (in more ways than one). You look cute especially when you’re angry, he always says and to be honest you’d be lying if you said you don’t find it endearing in the slightest.

You go back to stitching up the rest of his decapitated head, and Hanma notices the slight tint of red forming on your adorable cheeks even in the dim yellow hue of the light provided by your fairy light.

You heard him chuckle, so your eyes shot up to study his face, only to notice that his eyes were already staring at you.

Gold and purple eyes bore into you as if knowing exactly what you’re thinking, so you bring your gaze back down to his neck, trying your best to not seem like you were shying away from looking at his dual-colored eyes.

His eyes didn’t use to be two different colors. Both of his eyes used to be a brilliant shade of shimmering gold, though one time during a fight, one of his eyes had fallen right out of its socket, which usually he would just pop right back in, however in the heat of the moment, his fallen eye had gotten lost. So, in the end, you had to rob an eye from your eyeball collection to give him a new one.

Unfortunately, at the time, you didn’t have any golden eye, so you offered him one that had a beautiful shade of hazel to sort of match the gold, but he had said “Fuck it! If I’m gonna have mismatching eyes, might as well go all out!” so he settled for a purple one in the end.

“There! All done!” you chirped. “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” you told him before you head over to the kitchen where your cauldron was already brewing. Originally you wanted to use the cauldron for making glow shroom stew, but you supposed you’ll just have to eat the leftover blood velvet cookies you’ve baked this morning because you’re going to need your cauldron for something else.

As you began to gather all of your ingredients for a quick-healing potion, you hear a distinguishable jingle come from the living room where you last left Hanma about two minutes ago.

You peep your head through the kitchen entrance and gasp in pure horror when you saw Hanma shaking your fairy light violently like a madman with a manic grin plastered across his face. “Shuji don’t bully my fairy!” he stopped shaking the jar immediately to look at you.

“Put her down! Now!” you pointed at him like a mother reprimanding her child before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Hanma let out a huff but he obliged, mainly because he doesn’t want to have to sleep on a tree branch if you end up kicking him out. The dryads around these parts were never too fond of him either, so if he got kicked out, he’ll end up spending the night getting tossed around from tree to tree until he’ll eventually settle for sleeping on the grass.

So begrudgingly he set the jar back down on the fireplace and childishly blew raspberries at the poor terrified little fairy inside the jar. He knew you wouldn’t be back anytime soon so his eyes wander around the room to look for some other form of entertainment to keep himself busy for the time being.

His eyes then landed on the self-moving broom, sweeping away at the floor without a care in the world, and that’s when an idea popped into his head.

He was standing by the fireplace, and right next to his feet, just a little to the left was the opening of the fireplace where all the charred wood was stacked. His foot reaches over to the top stack and knocks over the burnt piece of wood, causing the ash to spill onto the carpeted floor.

“Oops! My bad” Hanma exclaimed at the broom with faux innocence. The broom quickly turned and floats closer to clean up the mess, and as it did so, Hanma uses his hand to knock over an object from the top of the fireplace to create an even bigger mess. “Oopsie! I did it aga—” this time he did not get to finish his sentence because the broom quickly shot up to smack him in the face with its bristles.

“Ow! Why you little—” in one swift motion, Hanma pounces at the broom and grabbed it by the handle with both hands then began to shake it back and forth as if he was strangling it like a person. The broom then flings itself backward to set itself free from Hanma’s grasps but he was persistent and began chasing the damned broomstick around like a dog chasing a cat.

Your head peeked through the entrance again to see what all the commotion was about, but when you see your flying broom flailing itself from corner to corner whilst Hanma chases it down like a chicken, you could only let out a sigh before returning to the task at hand.

The potion you were making was almost done, you just needed to let it brew for a couple of minutes before adding in the last of the ingredients. You began to stir your potion and watch as it turns green, then from the corners of your eye, you see your black cat jumping onto the counter beside the cauldron.

His glowing yellow eyes squint at you, almost like he’s judging you and asking you why you put up with the man-child currently playing tag with a magic broom in your living room, and to that, you say “Don’t give me that look Baji… I don’t even know why I put up with him”. your voice feigned annoyance yet the gentle curve of your smile was enough to tell the entire world otherwise.

That god damned Frankenstein’s monster is a real pain in the ass but he was your pain in the ass, and you’d know that every time he comes knocking on your door, you’d welcome him with open arms despite all the absurdities he brings to your doorstep.

All of a sudden you feel a pair of arms slithers around your waist before a head plops itself on your shoulder, almost causing you to stumble from being pulled back against the person’s chest. “Shuji wha—” you thought he was trying to irritate you again, but when he said nothing and remained still, you paused. He’s completely drained, you thought. He must’ve tired himself out from all the blood harvesting and the… broom chasing.

“’m tired… ‘s go sleep” he slurred. “But the potion—” “Screw the potion. Not like I feel much pain anyway so I don’t need it” he ignored your high-pitched yelps and swiftly picks you up in his arms to take you away from the kitchen. You knew at this point there was no compromising, so with a flick of the wrist from over his shoulder, you cast a spell that would turn off the fire so that your cottage wouldn’t be set ablaze in your slumber.

Hanma practically threw you onto your bed, then he plops his entire body weight on top of you, letting his face nuzzle into the crook of your neck as he makes himself comfortable. Not half a minute later, his breath becomes steady and relaxed, making you wonder if he really is that tired to the point where he just shuts down in an instant.

You see no way of getting out from under him anytime soon, so you decided that maybe you should get some rest yourself. After all, it has been a tiring day.

Oh, how foolish of you to believe that Hanma was asleep. The second you let your body relax, you feel the body above you shake uncontrollably with laughter.

“What’s so funn—” you cut yourself off with a squeak when you feel his hand slip under your shirt to pinch you on the side. His mouth trails delectable wet kisses from the base of your neck, all the way up to your jawline. He lifts himself to hover over you, and that’s when you catch the playful glint in his heterochromatic eyes.

“I lied… I wasn’t tired… I just didn’t want to take that horrid potion you keep giving me,” he kisses you, swiping his tongue across your lower lip and biting it before he pulls away. “And I don’t want to sleep either, but now that we’re here…” he purred, running his cold tatted hand higher along my side.

Today has been a long day indeed, but it turns out the day was not quite over yet. In fact, the long day was about to turn into a long night for you.

This official art topped with this post that I made, got me thinking of Hanma living a Clark Kent-esque type of life where he wears glasses to school/at home but is living a double life as a delinquent when he isn’t wearing one.