Hanma Shuuji X Reader - Tumblr Posts

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。MORE — HANMA SHUJI.

based on this shit post i made on my side that has not left my brain since i took my final so here is a painfully cheesy scene i took out of a fic i wrote a while ago that i’ll never post bc it’s embarrassingly self indulgent

“these are bad for you, did you know that?” you mutter.

“that so?” hanma hums, leaning closer as your fingers work his lighter. his forehead practically bumps against yours as you light the end of his cigarette—even despite your lecture. he watches you as you do it, glances over the bridge of your nose and the curve of your lips as you frown.

“yeah,” you huff. “if you used that head of yours, you’d know these are death sticks.”

his lips are crooked in that smile of his—one that tells you he won’t stop. it’s a silent truth you’re both aware of, but it doesn’t keep you from scolding him. he needs to know, you think—that someone cares what happens to him. someone will miss him, even if no one else else will.

“good thing i have you to tell me,” he grins.

you think you could paint it from memory, the wide curve of his lips. you could remember exactly where that dimple on his left cheek is, where every crinkle of his eyes are under his glasses, how the slant of his jaw angles as he leans his head up. you’re too busy staring at him to fight it when his hand rubs over the small or your back, curling his arm around you and pulling you flush against his chest.

“it’s not like you ever listen to me,” you grumble against his shirt. it smells like him—like smoke and cologne that must be comically expensive. and it’s bad for you, perhaps—the secondhand smoke that creeps up your lungs and kills you slowly. but it’s blissful, comforting even. “but you should listen to me more.”

“i should,” he agrees.

“you won’t,” you pout.

he chuckles at that, takes a drag from the cigarette in his hand as he holds you tighter, sways you gently as the sun sets and coats your skin, leaving it sweet and honeyed just for him.

hanma shuji is not known for gentleness. he’s a hushed whisper, as if speaking the reapers name welcomes him to your doorstep, the blood dripping from the scythe as a fresh reminder that death is only around the corner. he should be anything but gentle in your eyes—yet when his fingertips find your skin under your shirt, gliding over the dip of your back and the slants of your hips, you think he’s nothing but gentle.

gentle enough to love you. gentle enough to let you love him too. gentle enough to pretend his listens when you scold him. gentle enough to let you know he knows you’ll miss him—even if you’re the only one.

“old habits die hard, baby.”

it’s your turn to huff out a small laugh at that. you want to tell him you know. that old habits do die hard—it’s why you let him walk through your door at ungodly hours, why you clean the caked blood on his fists, why you leave room for him on the other half of the mattress.

old habits die hard. it’s why you love him, even if maybe you shouldn’t.

“if you loved me, you’d quit,” you murmur.

“yeah? you think i don’t fuckin’ love you?” his voice is smooth against your ear, it drowns out the honking cars and the bustling of the city below you. it’s warm and familiar and a tad bit dangerous, but it’s enough to make you relax against his body, arms wrapping around his torso.

it’s silent for a moment. he holds you as you think, and when you make out the beating of his heart under your cheek, you have your answer.

“you know what i think?”

“what, baby?”

“i think you should love me more,” you insist, poking his shoulder accusingly.

“so greedy,” he giggles—and then he pulls you closer, holds you tighter, takes in every part of you like he can’t get enough. it’s him who’s greedy, you think, with the way he wants you enough to make you want him too.

“if you die from lung disease, i’ll have to find a new boyfriend,” you point out.

“you won’t miss me?”

“nope,” you lie. “i’ll be rid of my biggest headache.”

“too bad. guess i won’t die then,” he grins, eyeing down at the top of your head.

somehow, you trust him—he’s never given you a reason not to. you’re sure the fingers on your hips and the warm chest under your cheek and the smell of smoke lingering in the air won’t leave you any time soon. and you hope it won’t, that the sins on his hands aren’t enough to outweigh the prayers on your tongue.

but just to be sure, you look up, propping your chin up on his chest as you whisper, “promise?”

he nods, throwing on that easy grin on his face again. your thumb finds the dimple of his cheek as you cup his face. “of course.”

i am unwell over him and it’s all because of mich 😒

The Delinquent Next Door - Part 1: Strange Encounter

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

Pairing: Hanma Shuji X Neighbor! Reader

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

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

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

Part 1    Part 2     Part 3     Part 4 

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

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

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

Just fucking peachy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That included his next door neighbor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another one should do it.

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

“Excuse me.”

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

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

You. His fellow next-door neighbor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes flew wide open at the response. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Watch your mouth,” you retort. 

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

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

“Do I look like a burglar to you?”

“I didn't mean it like that!”

He hums, “Sure.”

Strike one.

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

His eyes widen for a moment.

Wait...what?

Shocker much? To Hanma it certainly was unexpected. 

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

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

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

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

Silence. 

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

“Well...I mean...”

“You can pick a lock?”

Strike two.

This jerk.

You whip your head back to him and scoff. 

Unbelievable.

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

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

Just how cocky is he?

If only you knew.

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

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

And there goes strike three.

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

“Sure. Thanks!” 

Just who does he think he is, that little-

You pause. Huh?

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

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

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

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

You sighed.

An idiot. That’s what he was.

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

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

“Wait!”

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

Hanma blinks owlishly a few times.

That was quick.

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

____________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a moment, you blanked at the question. 

“[f/n]. [f/n] [l/n].”

He smiles.

“Thanks for the help, doll~”

You let an exasperated sigh.

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

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

You frown. “Jerk...” you mutter.

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

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

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

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

You absentmindedly nodded.

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

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

You shake your head.

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

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

You chuckled to yourself. How silly. 

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

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

____________________________________________

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

Genre: Fluff?

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

Pairing: Hanma Shuji X Neighbor! Reader

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

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

Part 1       Part 2       Part 3      Part 4

___________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She likes you, huh?”

He smirks, “Yeah, more than you~”

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

"Meow!"

"Good choice!"

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

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

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

"So you're a doctor, huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

"So?" He questions.

"So your name is Hanma Shuji, right?"

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

"Hm? I never told you my name?"

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

"Not really, no."

Of course he doesn't. The lousy jerk.

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

"By the way..."

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

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

He sighs, "Don't mention it."

"No, I mean really-"

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

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

That's it...

You threw your empty cup at his face. 

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

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

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

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

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

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...

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Wattpad: authorluvgxbby

Story: The Delinquent Next Door

Honest question: With which hand Shuji would choke you, with the “Punishment” hand or with the “Sin” hand?

Hanma: You love me, right, Y/n?

Y/n: Normally I'd say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don't like it, what did you do this time?

Hanma *whipping out matching His and Hers guns from behind his back*: 😏

Y/n: oh thank god I was expecting so much worse

Hanma *pulling out a list of targets*: It's bring your wife to work day!

Y/n: Shuji NO

Tokyo revengers brain rot era

TR Boys with a Girlfriend thats Tall!

Helloo, it's me again!!! I hope you like this one as much as me! I don't remember ever reading anything with tr boys and tall baddies, so i wanted to write it myself! Its not proofread so if there are any mistakes, excuse me :3 anyways, let me know how you like this one!! <3

Hanma Shuji is really tall himself and after dating smaller girls he finally realized that maybe he really did prefer a girl that could reach his eyes. Don't get him wrong, he'd still date someone small if he really liked them. Seeing you for the first time, boy was shook. You stood beside Mikey while discussing some irrelevant things and Hanma knew right then and there that he had to have you. You looked so beautiful with your long legs and high statue. You practically were a whole head taller than Mikey, which if hanma had to guess your height, would be about 1.80 meters. You were still smaller that him, but at least he wouldn't have to break his fucking neck to talk to you.

Draken knew you pretty well. He met you at one of the gangs gatherings where you tagged along with your best friend, Mitsuya. You had heard a lot of things about him being a real asshole and pretty ignorant, but honestly, you didn't know where people got that side of him from. Maybe he was just different to you, you didn't really care because you almost immediately started falling for him. Although he never really cared about the height of the girls he dated, he really loved that about you. You didn't even have ti stand on you tip toes to kiss his pretty pink lips. You'd just have to lean over and catch his lips in a lovely kiss. He'd always compliment you if you wore dresses or skirts to show off you long and plump legs.

When Rindou Haitani first met you, his first thought was 'holy shit, that chicks fucking tall'. You were at the Party his older Brother had organized even though you honestly didn't even know the Haitanis that much. Anyways, Rindou straight out approached you with a red solo cup in hand and a joint in the other. "Want something to drink, Pretty Girl?" Was the first thing he'd said to you and you looked down at him, making him shudder slightly when you smiled. "Sure, why not?" You giggled freely and followed him to the Kitchen where you spent the next couple of hours getting to know each other and just drinking. "I think you're really beautiful, and i really like that you're taller than me." He confessed later that evening, drunkely looking at you sitting on hin kitchen isle. You just giggled and tugged on his arm to get him to stand between your thighs before leaning in and just kissing him. Yeah, boy was totally whipped.

A chance | Hanma Shuji

Sumarry: I just wanted to write something smooth with Hanma since I've been obsessed with him lately

English is not my first language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes.

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"I know I've done a lot of bad things, and I still do, but you need to know that I love you."

If you told someone that Hanma Shuji told you that, they would laugh in your face saying you are crazy, but the truth is that Hanma has always been kind to you.

"Hanma..."

"No more Shuji?" He asks you with a soft smile.

"You know I love you Shuji, I love you so much"

"So let's be together please Y/n all I ask of you is a chance I beg you."

You look at him and he looked so handsome just in the street light and moonlight and you would just think he has to see you in one of his darkest appearances as you're walking home from work.

"I'm sorry Hanma for taking me away from you, I'm so confused but I miss you so much." You say in a choked voice, feeling your eyes start to sting, and Hanma looks at you carefully.

"Hey please don't cry, come here." Hanma says pulling you into a tight hug, putting your chin on your head, and you hide your face in his chest.

"I missed you too, I missed you so much." Hanma says kissing her head with her eyes closed and massaging her hair.

"Who knew the great Hanma would be so smooth." You say laughing softly still hugging your chest, and Hanma laughs too and bends down until he reaches your face and gives a light kiss on your cheek.

"Just for you my love, just for you." He hugs you tighter.

"Come on, I'll take it home." He says as soon as you pull away from him to wipe away your tears.

"I look awful, don't I?" You say laughing as the two of you start walking side by side.

Hanma looks at you hearing this, and fights the urge to hold your hand, he wanted so badly to intertwine your fingers, but he didn't want to make you feel pressured.

"You look beautiful." He says smiling, and you look at him with flushed cheeks.

"Fuck" you think, and on impulse, take his right hand and intertwine them.

"God, I missed that." He says squeezing your hands tighter and smiling from ear to ear.

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐭 | 𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐲

Sumarry:Takemichi tells Mikey his girlfriend is going to die, but he still has time to stop it.

Pairing: Mikey X Fem!Reader

WC: 906

Prompt's: 3,4 and 29

English is not my first language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes.

TOKYO REV MASTERLIST | Requests temporarily closed

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Takemichi ran in the rain as if his life depended on it, indeed lives depended on it, and he would do everything possible and impossible to save them.

"Mikey!" He screamed like that when he saw Miley leaning on her motorcycle while talking to Draken.

"What's up Takemichy?" Draken say looking at the boy with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

The truth is, Takemichi had just found out from Naoto that Y/n was going to die exactly two hours after the time they were now, and that would sadden Mikey in an inexplicable way.

She would die in a club where Moebius members recognized her as Mikey's girlfriend, killed her in such a cruel way that Takemichy cried while Naoto read the news.

"Where's Y/n?" Takemichy asks as he looks around looking for the girl who was always with Mikey.

"She's not here, what do you want with her?" Mikey says with a dark look.

"Listen Mikey I know this is weird but you have to go after her." Takemichy says, attracting Draken's attention.

"Look Takemichy, I don't know what she told you about our argument but-"

"Discussion? Did you guys fight?" Takemichy interrupts Mikey in desperation

"Now it all makes sense, they fought, that's why she wasn't with him at the club"

"Please Mikey, you need to go get her-"

"That's enough Takemichy." Mikey says getting on his motorcycle, and Draken lets out a faint chuckle, getting on his own motorcycle.

"She's going to die Mikey." That phrase from Takemichy stopped Mikey right away.

"How do you know that?" Draken says.

That was enough for Mikey, he jumps off his motorcycle and lunges at Takemichy grabbing him by the collar.

"Did you set her up? how the fuck do you know that?" Mikey says in a growl and Takemichy flinches.

"I would never set her up, I swear I'll explain everything later but for now please trust me."

Mikey stares at Takemichi for a while before letting him go and getting on his motorcycle again.

"Do you know where she is?" Mikey asks Draken

"She's at a club downtown." Takemichi answers up front.

"What the fu-"

"I promise I'll explain it to you later Mikey, please don't waste any more time." Mikey looks at him, and takes off on his motorcycle, leaving Draken and Takemichi alone.

"You're crazy aren't you?" Draken says to Takemichi

Mikey, on the other hand, was heartbroken, and hoping that Takemichi was just delirious, yes he and Y/n had fought, but he loves her as fuck and couldn't imagine himself without her.

He can't hold back a smile when he sees her walking down the sidewalk, almost reaching the club.

"Y/n thank God" He says slowing down the bike and following her with the bike.

"What do you want Manjiro?" She says without looking at him, and continues walking.

"You need to come with me love, come on I'll take you home." He says softly and she looks at him confused.

"It wasn't long ago you were yelling at me, what's changed?" She says stopping walking and crossing her arms.

"Maybe the fact that I find out I'm about to lose you forever, and for some reason only Takemichy knows about it" Mikey thinks.

He sighs, turning off the bike and getting off, Mikey approaches his girlfriend with her hands in her pockets and observes her serious face, she was so beautiful, and honestly he didn't even remember the reason for their argument anymore

"you look beautiful you know?" He says smiling, and Y/n tries to hold back the smile, she was so in love with him.

"That won't work this time"

"I know, I just wanted you to know that."

"Look, I'm going right now." She says starting to walk again, and Mikey runs up to her holding her wrist.

"Please don't go, I don't want to lose you." He says feeling his voice crack.

"What are you talking about Miley? Tomorrow we'll talk."

"Please Y/n I'm begging you, let me take you home, I'm on my knees if you want love I'm on my knees, look I'm on my knees for you!" Mikey says getting on his knees in front of Y/n hugging his legs.

He no longer cared that anyone would see the leader of toman on his knees, he just didn't want to lose his love, his world.

Y/n was in complete shock watching Mikey on his knees.

"Mikey please get up from there, you need to go." She says feeling her eyes burn.

"I won’t leave here without you" Mikey says sniffling.

Y/n looks at the sky trying her best not to cry, but after all, why had they even fought?

"Mikey okay, let's get out of here." She says stroking her boyfriend's blonde hair, who jumps up off the floor and hugs Y/n with all his strength.

"I love you so much, forgive me for yelling at you, forgive me." He says holding Y/n's face and kissing his nose, forehead and mouth.

Mikey would have to thank Takemichy later... and get an explanation too, because how the hell did he know that?

I feel like Hanma and Y/n's vibe is like...

Y/n: What are we doing for our anniversary?

Hanma: Who knows how to hit someone?

Y/n:...Yes I would like that

#8 from the exes prompt with Hanma would be so funny 😂

I think so too lol

Prompt 8 for "exes" - "Are you together?" "Yes!" "No we are not."

"Oh no." Y/n says upon seeing her ex boyfriend walking into the coffee shop where she was doing her college work.

"Hey love!" Hanma with your two meters tall, runs up to Y/n with a smile on his face.

"What are you doing here Hanma?" Y/n says massaging her temples.

"I came to see you my love." He sits in the chair on the other side of the table.

"We are not together anymore."

"Since when?" Hanma asks with the most sinister face ever.

"Why don't you go fuck yourself-"

"I'm here Y/n, sorry I'm late I had an unforeseen event... oh am I in the way?" Y/n's colleague says as he approaches the table.

"Yes!"

"No."

Hanma and Y/n say together.

He won't deny that he was a little disappointed to see Hanma at the table with Y/n, he had a crush on her for a long time, and he was very happy when he found out that Y/n had broken up.

"I'm a little confused, Are you together?"

"Yes!"

"No we are not"

He looks at Hanma's serious expression and then at the tattoo on his hands.

"Well I don't want to disturb Y/n, we can do it another day."

"No, you don't need to-" It was too late, he had already turned his back and left.

"How rude." Hanma says, settling more in the chair.

"Hanma."

"Yes love." Hanma says hopefully.

"Fuck you!"

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It’s Excellent as always <3

BACK TO US — h. shuji

𖨆♡𖨆 hanma shuji x fem!reader, chifuyu x fem!reader

╰┈➤ thrown into an arranged marriage with toman’s second man, you slowly come to find that not even your lost memories will stop him from getting what he wants. and what he wants is not you.

cw. HEAVY ANGST, illnesses, past mentions of child abuse towards the reader, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortion, explicit smut, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, adultery, heartbreak, mentions of death, murder by strangulation, MINORS/AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

╳  playlist                                      ╳ masterlist

#6: you love me but you’re hollow (part 2)

Despite everything that had happened in a span of a few hours, the human heart is truly an amazing thing.

It’s resilience was second to a rubber band, twisting and flexible. But, like a band, once it broke, nothing could ever fix it again.

Your husband had left a string of missed calls since the news broke of your father’s state.

It was Chifuyu who returned, mistaking your reddened eyes for grief towards a man who did not care if you lived or died. Who was a father in just his name. 

The dark-haired man held you close to his side in a stiff hug, murmuring, “Shuji-san is caught in between tasks. He’s making arrangements to return home soon.”

How much could a heart take before it permanently fell into pieces?

Home. Did that even exist now that you knew the whole truth? 

You turned your listless eyes to him, nodding. “Of course.”

No words were exchanged between you and Chifuyu for the rest of the ride to the hideout where your father would be treated for his sudden illness.

Is this really happening to me? 

In what world could life be so cruel to you that you had to endure horrible news after horrible news? This is insane. Your phone rang again, and you darted your gaze to the screen.

The word husband flashed across the screen a few times. You remained frozen in your seat. 

The screen went dark and Chifuyu cleared his throat. “Are you alright, Y/N?” Perhaps it was in the manner in which he posed that innocent question that made the tears bloom in your eyes, your lower lip wobbling slightly. “I believe this news must have come as a shock to you.”

Chifuyu did not know how wrong he was. 

But, of course, he didn’t. How would he know that you were undoubtedly reeling from the double whammy of having your heart broken by your husband’s infidelity? That it overwhelmed the fear lacerating across your soul from your father’s wellbeing? 

No one could blame you for closing your eyes for a second, beyond dizzy from the sudden whiplash of emotions. Anger, betrayal, fear, heartbreak. Everything hit you all at once with no room for an escape. You were forced to stare down the terrifying eyes of your emotions, to contend with the harsh reality of your memories returning, your worst fears coming to light, and waking up into this nightmare that seemed to have no end.

Why me? Your mind rang out in cadences of self-loathing. What did I do to deserve this?

The baby in your belly, faultless and pure, was the one you leaned upon to give you strength to propel forward. You swiped at your eyes and assumed the stony mask which had served you well for many, many years in a household filled with nothing but conflict and terror.

“Let us focus on my father’s wellbeing and not on other things that do not deserve attention.”

From the corner of your eye, Chifuyu’s lips pulled down into a frown. Your friend reached out to you, grazing your shoulder, and in this minute silence, you were glad you weren’t alone. Heavens knows what would’ve transpired if you were left to your own devices. The harm you would put yourself in. Your palm turned into a fist above your belly. The horrors you would’ve done out of pain to a poor soul that would not deserve it. 

Briefly, you did ruminate on it—what it would feel like to have uncapped the bottle of bleach sitting innocently on your shelf and gulped down its contents. Threw yourself down the stairs and let your bones break. Stabbed your own heart with the knife Shuji loved cutting apples for you, placing the plate of fruit of your lap with a soft smile and a whisper for you to eat better.

The ghost of the blade lodged somewhere between your ribs, just below your heart. You expelled a shaky sob. Chifuyu didn’t have to ask twice—his arms were already around you, holding you fast to his chest, letting your tears seep into his dress shirt. From somewhere in your purse, your phone continued ringing, unanswered. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Chifuyu murmured into your hair. “Everything will be fine.”

How you wished his words were true. It was not enough that you had to flay your memories open every single time now that they were back. Nothing you thought, felt or reasoned would be enough to mitigate the immense injustice you were faced with. That was committed onto you. 

What did I do to deserve this?

Your head spun, and you were faint with nerves. Chifuyu held you close to him, a pillar of warmth and support, the crook of his neck an oasis where you hid your tear-stained face. Thank you, was your fervent prayer to the universe. Thank you for putting a friend here for me.

Without Chifuyu’s hand on your shoulder, you were sure you could not get out of the car. His touch on your back as he steered you down the winding halls of this quiet mansion that turned into a makeshift hospital was the sole thing keeping you from sliding down the walls and melting in a puddle of your own tears. 

It felt like Novocain was melting on your tongue, numbing your voice and actions when men bowed in your direction the moment you passed them. Oh—right. With your father indisposed, you were the acting head of the Blood Phoenixes. A title you took little pleasure in. Especially when the door fell open to reveal your father’s fragile body lying on the bed.

In his frail state, you weren’t sure what you were terrified of in the first place. He was no longer the horrifying monolith who dictated your life, whose fists landing on your flesh you were intimately acquainted with. 

It would be sickeningly easy to lift the pillow by the side of his salt-pepper streaked hair and smother the last of his breath as a repercussion for the cruelty he showed you throughout your whole life. The glint in your eyes spoke of such malicious intentions.

“Please, leave us for a moment.”

The men had no choice but to melt out of the room, their heads bowed forward. Chifuyu squeezed your shoulder, departing a bit of his strength while he followed the rest of them. Your father’s eyes flickered open, and he grunted at the sight of you. 

One half of his face was completely sagging, as if the muscles had given out, leaving his right eye drooping, his mouth perpetually fashioned in a half-frown. Ghastly. He looked like a creature of the night, so unsightly, that if you were made of crueler stuff, you would’ve laughed in his face. 

Your heels clacked on the ground, and his working eye followed you, a sheen of fear in it.

“Tou-san.” 

You loomed over him, a woman with such an impassive face and shaking hands, it would be little wonder why he flinched when you raised your palms. In his eyes and mind, every single sin he committed against you flashed by rapidly; each horrible, ego-breaking word he hurled into your face, the faint scars on your arms, the slaps he dealt onto your susceptible cheek when you did not answer him from the fear. One time, he had hauled you by your hair towards the balcony, shaking you hard enough for your teeth to rattle, screaming how he was going to throw you over the railings if you dared defy him again.  

Unbidden, the tears chased down your face.

You lifted the pillow, fingers trembling. He gave a low moan, begging you with his one shining eye to not hurt him.

Your gut tightened. Your fingertips tingled with nerves when you reached out to him. 

Soft as down, you brushed the hair from his temple back, and gently lifted his head, placing the pillow underneath his tender skull.

Tomio exhaled noisily. You turned your face away. 

“Can you speak?”

He grunted in response.

“Your men filled me in,” you spoke with little inflection in your voice. “They tell me you have little chance of survival without a hospital’s aid.” Outside, lightning flashed. You swore you felt your phone vibrating again in your purse. “Perhaps that is for the best.”

The lack of light in your eyes when you turned your head to him was pronounced, especially when you touched your belly. His one eye flickered towards the soft of your stomach. “You know, I lied to you that day in your mansion to save Shuji. I said I was pregnant—” 

A loud grunt that sounded like a reprimand. 

“—but, I didn’t know. I actually was pregnant.”

Your expression was a blank slate, one your father could not read. His wrinkles became more pronounced in a deep frown. “It looks like I have to disappoint you again, tou-san. It is a girl.”

The lie you told weighed heavily on your tongue. Not a lie, you amended. A speculation you wanted to come true. You wished with your entire soul that Shusei would be a baby girl so you would never have to contend with the idea of your father’s men hounding him. Trying to appoint him as their next leader.

You would rather cut your own finger off than see your baby boy transform into a cruel man like his grandfather.

Like his father.

It had to end with you. 

A tear slipped down your cheek from his closed off expression. Your father breathed heavily, like he was growing to anger, but the frustration of his uncooperating body held him back from fully reaching the peak of his rage. My fault. Everything is my fault.

“But, what do you care? You’ve only ever seen me as a pawn, right? An extension of you to order around. To beat when you needed a way to release your frustrations. You have never seen me as your daughter.”

Straightening your spine, every crevice in your heart ached, bleeding a mile wide to run red rivulets down puffy cheeks. You were so very, very tired.

“I confess I once thought it was my fault that okasan passed away. You made sure to remind me of that.”

Foolish. You were crying like a fool. Openly sobbing, you pressed a palm to your heaving mouth, your hands shaking. Every fibre of your soul ripping cleanly in two. Focus… I need to focus. 

Your watery eyes landed on the soft duvet, fisting the white sheet. This was your last goodbye to your father, after all. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, you decided it was the right time to spill your soul. The pain you suffered, the numerous times you held your tongue to keep the peace, the blows you took without a single complaint. The half-life you were forced to live that you could never go back to. Not when your freedom was so close. It’s time to say goodbye. 

“I was a child, tou-chan.” Daddy. This was the first time in your life you have ever called him that. The term was clunky and hollow in your mouth—completely foreign. “And all a young girl wants is her father’s love. All I ever wanted was your love.”

The great L/N Tomio, whose name had the power to shake a man’s core, who had killed and maimed thousands of people in his colourful career as a yakuza head, was nothing but a limp vegetable with tears beading in his lashline. 

Those beady dark eyes were hopeless pits of agony, fixated on your face. 

“I’m leaving. Running away,” you pushed forward with this bitter truth. Even if Tomio was never the shining paradigm of a father, he deserved to know the implications his harsh control had over your miserable life.

“Did you know Shuji has been cheating on me all this while? He has a mistress and he loves her. More than me. Not even my own husband can find it in his soul to love me, but what did I expect?” A mirthless laugh left your aching lips. “That I was loveable? That I was special? I understand now. I understand my place in this world.” 

Lifting your wet eyes, you pinned him to the spot. A bit of drool was tricking down his parted mouth and you wiped it away with your sleeve. 

“If you recover, don’t search for me. I’m not your daughter anymore. I’m divorcing Shuji and leaving him behind. My baby girl will not carry Shuji’s name or yours.” Closing your eyes briefly, you gathered your strength and stood up on shaky legs. Tomio grunted frantically, trying to get you to stop. But, you did not hear him, covering your ears with cotton; coating your soul with antipathy. 

You spared the broken man drowning in his sheets one last look, his watery eyes dominating your vision. Trying hard to memorise the curve of the nose you inherited from him, the slight jut of the chin that was unmistakably an L/N family trait. You burned them down one memory at a time, leaving only a ringing white canvas behind. 

Tomio made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded awfully like your name.

You regarded him with a smile that did not touch your red-rimmed eyes. “Goodbye, tou-chan. I wish you well.”

His frantic grunts and muffled sobs resounded around the room, but you did not turn back. Did not want to take any pleasure in his suffering because at the end of the day, you were not cruel like your father. Your mother’s famed patience and her resilience flowed in your veins, canceling out that monster’s misdeeds. You were never L/N Tomio’s daughter.

Chifuyu greeted you with a frown when he noticed your red-rimmed eyes and defeated air.

“Y/N—”

“Take me home, please.” You rested a hand on your belly and every man intrinsically knew. The last thing they wanted was for Tomio’s grandchild to suffer under the immense stress its mother was facing.

“Shuji-san gave me a call,” Chifuyu murmured, impervious to you stiffening at the sound of his name. “He wanted to know if you were alright because you were not answering your phone.” The BMW’s door was pried open, and you got into the back seat, waiting for the dark-haired man to follow you. An underling drove you and Chifuyu back to the penthouse in Akasaka, and you remained like stone under his flitting worry.

“Y/N—”

Sensing he wanted to unearth the deeper reason as to why you were completely silent, you shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Ever a sweet man, Chifuyu tried to comfort you. “He will be fine. Tomio will recover well.”

It was to his surprise when you leaned forward, clicking the button to activate the car’s divider, leaving the both of you in a sound-proof bubble of tension.

“Y/N—”

“Tell me the truth, Chifuyu,” you began, the knot in your stomach tight. You massaged your abdomen, and he flickered his ocean eyes to that minute movement. “Shuji is cheating on me, is he not?”

How it burned to have those words pass your lips. You were not the only one feeling its callous effects. Chifuyu winced, and he turned his gaze towards the outside world, buying time to reply.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” your voice was feeble even to your own ears. “I know the truth. It’s that secretary, isn’t it? Ichika?” 

Her name was the catalyst for Chifuyu to defrost. He peeled his eyes from the blurry scenery, the rain pelting down in streaks that filled the car with white noise. The driver in the front cleared his throat out of habit, remaining oblivious to the solemn conversation. 

“Yes.”

You closed your eyes, turning your face away.

“I did not tell you because—”

“Does everyone know?” A listless quality befell your tone. You felt like you were about to break apart. “Am I the last to know that my own husband has been unfaithful to me?”

Chifuyu exhaled. “Kisaki does not know. Shuji would not tell him because—”

“It would jeapordise the deal. I see.” Your frosty exterior fractured and you hiccuped a sob. It was your hormones flaring, the stress and heartbreak catching up fast. You had to get home quick.

“What will you do?”

The dark-haired man cautiously murmured. You did not know what to say to him. “Will you leave? Are you planning to divorce him?”

You blanched. Were your intentions that obvious?

As if hearing your thoughts, Chifuyu exhaled. “I know it must be a blow to you and you want to leave this place as soon as you can. I understand.”

Shaking your head, you murmured, “I do not know.” As anticlimactic as it was, this was the truth. “I do not know what I should do next.”

Whatever you expected Chifuyu to say, it was not this: “Let me help you.”

You assessed him carefully. Matsuno Chifuyu was by no means a man whose trust was given freely. He demanded loyalty from his men—a measure of character that made his division stand out from the rest of the greasy thugs in Toman. Any man who is worth their salt would have Chifuyu’s trust and fealty. You were surprised you had his.

“What about Shuji?” you cautiously murmured. “What if he finds out you helped me?”

“He would not.” 

You were quietly reeling from the unflinching reassurance in his tone. “Shuji deserves to never have you in his life, ever again. Y/N, I’ve always wanted to help you ever since the moment I found out about what that bastard did to you. I just couldn’t open my mouth because I did not want to strain your healing process.”

Something in your chest twinged. “Is that the truth?”

Chifuyu nodded, a fire you had never seen before in his brilliant, azure eyes. It half-scared you. “I wouldn't lie to you, Y/N.”

The car rolled to a stop, but you barely noticed. You were locked in a battle of trust and surrender. To give Chifuyu a chance to help was to rely on yet another person in your life whose true intentions were dubious at best. But on the flip side, the ache in your chest, the wounded little girl who only ever wanted someone to hold her hand, could’ve wept with relief.

Finally, she screamed, happiness streaking down her face. Someone loves me enough to care.

The unseen, but ever present burden you carried obstinately to shoulder that little girl’s heavy sadness and dejection was lifted. 

“Okay.”

Chifuyu let you hold onto his arm when you stepped out, and for once, you did not fear the rain. Not when he was by your side.

He helped you up the penthouse elevator, careful to never let go of your elbow. He was soaked from the tip of his head down to his toes, but that bright fire never dissipated from his gaze. 

It carried a flicker of hope in you, a little flame that licked and danced underneath your heart. Igniting it to hold fast to your resolve to let your walls falter and put your trust in him.

“Take what you need.”

You did as he said, moving your limbs mechanically. Inside your purse, your phone vibrated. You fished for it, removing the damning device and seething in rage at the name flashing on the screen.

Shuji was stubbornly trying to reach you. 15 missed calls and a few more texts. You didn’t bother to read them. Chifuyu watched as you rushed towards the balcony, sliding open the door and tossing your phone right into the sea of lights where it nosedived down fifty stories. Sure to shatter into a million pieces upon impact on the granite pavement.

By a tiny margin, you felt lighter. Chifuyu did not comment on the stormy anger swirling in your countenance, standing a little to the side as you raged, bubbled and seethed, your true emotions allowed to prowl like a tiger finally set free into the wild. You were ruthless, stuffing your clothes in your tote bag, taking cash, burner cards and phones. Stocking up as if an apocalypse was soon to happen.

Through it all, he never broke the silence, watching you work until eventually, you ran out of steam. He saw it in the slump of your shoulders, the teeming anger you held fastidiously to propel you slowly ebbing away til you were left with teary eyes and an air of grief.

He approached you slowly, getting down on one knee, watching while you sobbed into your palms, tears like the fattest diamonds trickling down your face.

You could not look at him—at this yakuza underboss who was as much part of your father’s world as you once was. Could not bear for him to see you this heartbroken.

“Y/N—”

“You must think I-I’m weak.” 

Surprise coloured your features when he gripped your hand, squeezing it. Cajoling you to look into his eyes. “Look at me—hey, c’mon—look at me.”

You slowly lifted your eyes to find his azure ones boring into yours. It made you want to flinch, cry and curl into a ball at the same time.

“Y/N, you’re so fucking strong. Don’t you see? Anyone who is in your position would’ve broken apart into pieces. I wouldn’t even be able to lift my head,” he emphasised. “Don’t make yourself small. You’re so much bigger than you think you are.”

Chifuyu, stop. Your expression crumpled and you were unable to stomach the hurt any longer. It exploded in a loud cry, one that took him aback.

“I don’t want to be strong!” you shrieked, blubbering almost violently. Mama, help me. You held onto your belly, sobbing ardently. “Don’t you see? I want to be loved.” 

Five words. A whole world of pain that opened right before your eyes. 

The insurmountable ache came to its fever pitch. 

“No one loves me!” your words fragmented across the empty room, backed up by your unceasing sobs. 

Chifuyu’s wide eyes dominated your vision; the silence stretching on. “My father hates me… he’s made it very clear he never wanted me in his life,” you blubbered, holding onto your midsection. God, it hurts… it hurts so fucking much. Every fibre of your being was falling apart, the sobs you held at bay overpowering you, drowning you in its endless waves of pain that found no shore.

Like a flimsy boat wrecked in the middle of the storm, there was nothing you could hold onto—nothing that you would anchor the pain.

Snot and tears coagulated down your face, and you turned your body away, unable to handle the mere thought of someone seeing you this vulnerable. Your voice shook, brittle as broken glass. “My husband betrayed me. He doesn’t love me… he made me feel so ugly and pathetic. So, don’t lie to me, Fuyu. Don’t you dare fucking lie to me and tell me I mean something. I’m worthless. I’m nothing. No one loves me.” A loud sob tore through you, ripping apart the seams of your restraint. 

It was true, wasn’t it?

You never had anyone in your life. Unloved since day one, no one had ever shown you a shred of kindness. The universe aligned against you—born into a family rich with everything but love. Beaten, ignored. Neglected. Then, you were thrusted into a marriage where you were played like a pawn till the very bitter end. And now, you were pregnant with the baby of a man who would kill you in a heartbeat if it wasn’t for his deal with Toman. 

Why am I still alive?  God, you squeezed hard around your belly, holding onto the last vestiges of your sanity. Make it end; kill me, please. 

Chifuyu pressed his shaky palms around yours. Those molten crystal eyes misted over with tears, and his jaw ticked from the restrained anger and devastation on your behalf. He tried to get you to look at him, but everytime his cool fingers prised your face up to meet him, your eyes would dart away, swollen and brimming with perpetual misery.

It pained him to see you like this; so broken and beaten from the unjustness of your situation. 

“Hey—hey… look at me. Look at me, Y/N. Your baby does—your baby loves you.” Chifuyu’s firm but fragile voice cut through the shattering glass of your fragile thoughts. “Y/N, your baby adores you. You mean the world to him or her. And I… I love you.” 

You shook your head, dislodging more tears that seeped into your white blouse. “You’re lying to me. Stop lying.”

His calloused hands tighten around yours. “You want me to prove it? Fuck, fine, I-I’ll proof it.” The sound of his sharp inhale rattled in his chest. 

“The first time you ever smiled at me felt like the fucking sun opening my damn eyes to the world. I’ve loved you since then—since you got into my car, scolded me to respect your boundaries, and drank with me until you stumbled in those fucking ridiculous heels. I love you. And I’m sorry that bastard made you doubt yourself, but you are not your thoughts, Y/N. You are more than that. You mean so much more.”

Hiccupping back your sobs, you finally found the strength to lift your head, falling into those sincere, crystal blue currents. Your body moved before your brain could catch up; Chifuyu did not impede your touch. 

You twined your fingers in his hair, dragging them down his face, and cupping his cheek. The dark-haired man dared not move or speak, letting you trace the rough skin of his chin with the pad of your index finger. No words were spouted between you, and there didn’t need to be any.

Your lips did the talking—rasping warmly against his. His arms came to wrap around you, holding your trembling body fast to his chest. Chifuyu tasted like mint and sunshine, the warmth of his broad muscles underneath your palms bleeding into your skin.

On instinct, you parted your mouth and he took the chance to slip his tongue inside your warm cavern, tasting your honeyed moans and breathy little gasps. 

Fuck. Matsuno Chifuyu could see why Hanma Shuji had fallen for you. It was incredibly easy to do so; every soft curve of your body from your gravid breasts to your arching back dripped with feminine submission. How easily you lost yourself in a man’s touch, how you bloomed open like a peony in the summer under heated palms. 

He roamed his hands down your sides, over your belly and right in between your legs. You mewled into his mouth when he started to trace the swell of your clit through your panties, finding a wet spot slowly forming on the modest cotton, driving him insane. Chifuyu groaned, and you eagerly lapped up his hunger, taking it down your throat with a whisper of his name.

Something about your breathy tone forming the cadence of him, was enough to make Chifuyu see stars.

One second you were perched on the loveseat, tears down your face, and the next, you were in his arms, straddling his lap. 

“‘Fuyu—”

“I know,” he mumbled against the flush of your throat. “I’ll make it so good for you, baby.”

Shuji used to call you ‘baby’. Your heart squeezed and tears shone in your eyes. There was no way you could go through with this, not when Chifuyu was earnestly suckling on your pulse point, his hands kneading your swollen tits. 

“Chifuyu, I can’t.” A catch in your voice spoke volumes of your pain. He stilled his descent down the graceful column of your neck, his hands falling to his side. 

“You love him,” his breath played with the loose strands of your hair. This close, he smelled like cigarettes and oranges. “I understand. It’s all still fresh for you.”

You nodded, hiding your face behind a curtain of your hair, you eased off his lap, wrapping your arms around your knees. Unable to look at him, you were quietly stunned when Chifuyu lifted your face to meet his own. The same fire as before burned in those brilliant eyes, and you were close to immolating yourself in the temptation of his embrace.

Chifuyu’s kiss-swollen lips quirked into a smile, the pink dusting on his cheeks endearing. “But, I will wait for you, Y/N. I promise you this. You’re worth the wait.”

The poignancy roaring in your chest, the blood flooding your brain; none of them were quite as potent as Chifuyu’s small admission. It was to your own detriment that you swallowed your tears and straddled his lap again, those large, warm palms holding you steady. Giving you the push you needed to take the final step of crossing a line you could never come back from.

But, hadn’t Shuji also crossed that same line?

As if sensing your thoughts heavy with him, Chifuyu mustered a lustreless chuckle. “If you want to use me to take revenge on him, be my guest, Y/N. I will happily offer myself up for your service.”

Your swollen eyes, the downturn lines of your mouth, even the baby burgeoning in your belly that belonged to another man could not deter the flame he held for you. For Chifuyu saw beyond your exterior, beyond the princess taught to put everyone’s happiness above her own. He saw a strong woman, right at the precipice of her life. A flower blooming from a crack in the asphalt. 

He saw a strength he had never encountered before in a woman, and it tiltillated him to no end; earning his respect and admiration. 

You closed your eyes, indecision rippling across your features. In a split second, it solidified into a grimace, and the glint of determination you held sparked like a livewire. Chifuyu held his breath. Allowed himself to be carried away when you tugged him down for a bruising kiss and reached for his belt, unzipping his pants. 

His cock breached your tight hole, and he exhaled a low moan, settling onto the hardwood floor (the same ones your husband walked day and night), as you swirled your hips, taking him in deeper. He tongued your pert and swollen nipples, suckling on them as you rode him with such frenzy it made him dizzy. 

You choked out his name and he bucked his hips upward, grazing your sweet spot. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your mouth falling slack and you breathed hard, whispering for him to cum. 

Your thighs would tense around him, and you held onto his shoulders with such determination, it would make him proud if you were truly his woman. His seed coated your walls, his kisses smothering your mouth and you let him. Let him plunder and use you; let him press his lips to your hair and fall into a quick doze.

Later, when he would open his eyes in a daze, he would find the penthouse empty. 

Your bags, your sweet smile, the lust ingrained in your features… had all dissipated like a dream.

He pulled his shirt back on, dressing stiffly, searching for you in every room, but ultimately got distracted by his buzzing phone.

Hanma’s name flashing on the screen inspired little fear in him, not when he knew off the full truth of the other man’s folly. 

“Matsuno?” Clipped and low, it was not hard to tell that his superior was stressed. “My wife. Is she alright? She has not answered any of my calls.” 

Chifuyu toyed with the idea of telling him the truth, but one look around the frozen, empty penthouse gave him pause, and he decided that Shuji needed to see for himself. See his marriage dissolve with his own two eyes. So, he lied through his teeth.

“Let me reach her. I’m still on the road back from the warehouse.” Not entirely a duplicity. The half-truth hummed in the back of his throat like the pleasant buzz of an alcoholic drink.

“Oh.” Shuji exhaled. “Let me know when you do.” The line clicked shut.

Good luck on that, buddy. With your phone smashed into smithereens and your whereabouts unknown, Chifuyu could only presume you had escaped while he was in the fugue of his post-orgasmic haze. Smart girl.

You were proving to be a vixen indeed, and it didn’t put him off. Chifuyu was actually spellbound by your brilliance. 

But, he could not admire your spunk for long. He had to search for you—not to share with Hanma your location, god no. That bastard did not deserve you. Purely selfish, his true intentions were to take care of you. Be your saviour.

Since he was a boy, he had dreamed of being a woman’s salvation. The printed panels filled with declarations of love hummed in him like a guiding star as he left the penthouse, hell bent on flushing out every district in Tokyo until you turned up.

Matsuno Chifuyu wanted you, and he would not stop at any lengths til this beguiling woman—this seductress veiled with innocence—would be in his arms once again.

Shuji was completely soaked. 

From head to toe, the rain had seeped into his clothes, his skin, weighing the ends of his hair heavily. He shook off the excess water, minding the puddles pooling underneath his dress shoes. Shucking them off, he carried the box of takeout food in his hand like a warrior returning from battle with the enemy’s head for his beloved monarch, careful to set it on the console table.

In his other hand, he carried a bag full of baby clothes, ointments for swollen joints and more nausea medication, a surprise for his beloved wife.

Y/N must be asleep. He had heard from Iroto about Tomio, and there was little doubt you would be conflicted. Shuji could understand—he had once been in your shoes. When his father passed on, he was half-agony, half-relief. The man who had made him bleed countless of times, who made his mother’s life a living hell, was finally buried six feet under.

But, on some days, it felt like he was still relieving his father’s death. Still in that empty morgue. Still standing under the rain as they buried the last remaining family member he had left, far away from his mother’s own resting place. Shuji was adamant on not leaving his parents together, knowing it would be what Hanma Tsuki wanted. 

If she could not find peace in her waking life, her only son would make sure she had the eternal felicity she deserved in death. 

“Y/N?” his voice echoed off the empty penthouse. He peeled off his wet jacket from his broad frame, frowning at the resounding silence.

“Doll? Y/N? I bought some dumb baby stuff for Shusei and food for you. Are you hungry?”

His voice carried like the echo of a lost ghost. A chill ran down his spine. Shuji set the items down the table, mind ablaze with traumatic images of you dead or dying. Heart in his throat, he was intimately cognizant with your withdrawn personality. She would never… Y/N would never let someone like her father affect her this much. 

Scouring the living room, he was assaulted with your fragrance, but no sight of you. The bedroom was empty save for a scattering of jewels on the floor. Fuck… did we get robbed? Despite the space looking pretty much pristine as how he left it before his mission, there were a few notable items missing.

Your tote bag, your favourite pair of earrings. The large pendant on the diamond necklace he gifted you. 

His chest felt strangely empty when he reached forward to gather the stray gems. Tucking them in his closed fist, he surveyed the room, a sense of foreboding so strong, it choked out every last fibre of rationalism in him.

Shuji walked out of the room slowly, like a sleepwalker strolling through his worst nightmare. 

The food you prepared for yourself on the stove was in a pot as cold as ice. The fridge was filled to the brim. The cupboards were packed with unopened boxes of Kraft Mac ‘n’ Cheese.

Yet, you were nowhere to be found.

He darted his brimming gaze towards the kitchen table, and something shimmery caught his eye. 

Upon closer inspection, it was your wedding ring, and underneath it, a single sheet of paper.

There was a tremble in his palm that was not borne from the rain water chilling him to the bone. 

Only six words were written on the otherwise blank page, but it was enough to render him mute and rooted to the spot. Drowning in waves of disbelief, rage and complete regret.

Shuji unclenched his fist and the diamonds scattered to the ground, the skittering sounds loud in his ears roaring with blood and rash accusations.

Cursing his stupidity. Cursing his folly. 

Six words. 

A whole world of pain that delivered itself like a deathblow straight to his core.

I know the truth. It’s over. 

Shuji did not break as much as he shattered.

The longest hours of his life where time felt like it slowed down to infinity were dotted with flashes of lucidity where he briefly came to his senses that he was acting like a man who had lost his mind. 

With his hair mused from his shaky hands running through his thick locks one too many times and his eyes red-rimmed, Shuji raced around Tokyo searching for you.

He dug up every resource he could find to scour the city for his missing wife. Underlings who were wrenched from strip clubs, illegal underground fights, and even a dentist appointment had no choice but to comply with their boss’ wishes of searching for his errant wife. But, after hours of flitting around the city, keeping their eyes peeled and ears sharp, they could not find the elusive woman that had turned the great Reaper’s heart inside out. 

She had vanished into thin air, they told him. Train lines, motels, clinics. Everywhere they went, they found no trace of her. 

Once the sun broke over the horizon like the spilling of a watery golden yolk, he called off the search. Tired men slumped back into their homes and into the arms of weary prostitutes. Underground scums returning back to the cesspit they came from. For Shuji, he went home. 

Or, what was left of home.

The penthouse was starkly quiet, every ragged breath he inhaled rattling around the space. Your fragrance lingered, and like a man haunted by the vengeful ghosts of his past, he stumbled into the large and desolate bedroom, straight to the vanity table where your Chanel perfume lay innocuously on the lacquered surface.

He sprayed some onto his wrist, the woodsy warm vanilla calming him; letting him pretend that you were right in his arms for a split second when he fell into a jagged, restless sleep.

Dreams of your sweet face contorting into a snarl, of your tears turning into peals of mirthless laughter rang in his subconscious. You were smashing your wedding ring into pieces. You reached inside your womb and tore his baby from the root of where that sweet soul grew. 

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you, Shuji.

Venomous words dripped from your lax mouth. You cried rivers of blood, begging him to undo his sins towards you. You’re a fucking monster, Hanma Shuji. 

Shuji awoke with a start to dusk.

One day. He blinked his dry eyes and stared at the ceiling, completely exhausted. One day without my Y/N.

He continued with his search. Soon, a day turned into two, and on the third day, he was informed by his subordinates that L/N Tomio had passed on in restless sleep. They told him that the old man never stopped grunting his daughter’s name, calling out to her even when he took his final breath. He must’ve known about Y/N. So, the man did have a heart. Too bad his only child was not here to see it. 

I am always the last man standing. Shuji watched as they took his father-in-law’s body and buried it in a white cloth. Yakuza bosses were little more than broken men at the end of their lives, and the funeral was a pathetic affair. Men who fought alongside Tomio for his whole life did not even bother to be at his wake to pay him their respects. Besides Shuji, a scattering of Toman numbers and a weathered man who identified himself as Tomio’s estranged younger brother, no one else was present at the wake.

He was sitting at a lowered chabudai, drinking some sake when a low baritone broke his mindless concentration.

“Hanma Shuji?”

Your uncle was staring at him, smile genial and the first signs of liver spots dotting his wide cheeks. “You are Tomio’s son-in-law, yes?” 

Your discarded wedding ring weighed heavily in his breast pocket, giving him the strength to see this day through. “Yes.”

“Where is my niece? Did she not want to attend her own father’s funeral?” 

Shuji did not answer him. He asked a question of his own. “Are you L/N Dan’s father? The one who is the heir?” 

The older man tutted and sat down next to him, helping himself to a spare cup of sake. “Heavens, no. I am Touma. L/N Touma. The youngest brother.”

Touma. The exiled one.

Shuji had briefly heard about your other uncle the day he arrived at your mansion to finalise the engagement with your father. A pacifist and the only L/N brother who did not follow down the dark path, Touma was a blip in the Blood Phoenix’s history. A flaw. Easily erased. Instead of being ruthless and bloodthirsty like his brothers, he chose a life of enlightening students on the wonders of Japanese literary prose. 

Something told Hanma Shuji that should you have known your uncle better, he would’ve been your favorite person in the world. 

“She’s not here, is she?”

The sadness in your uncle’s tone made Shuji’s gut tighten.

“No,” he admitted. 

Touma took one good look at him.

“And you have no idea where she is, don’t you?” 

Shuji lifted his eyes from the sake glass, his gaze flashing. Touma gave him a toothy grin. 

“I heard everything about my niece’s affairs. Word does travel fast even if you are an outcast.” The old man knocked back the glass and winced, kissing his teeth. “To tell you honestly, I was hoping she would be here. I’ve been waiting for twenty-one years to tell her the truth.”

The reaper stilled, waiting for the other man’s next words. The funny thing about grief is that it can loosen one’s tongue more effectively than the world’s strongest drink. And Touma looked like the kind of man who was perpetually nursing a hangover from holding onto a lie.

“Tomio was not her father,” Touma muttered wistfully, looking off into the distance. “I am.”

Shuji swore he heard his heart crack. The beatings, the antagonizing, the sufferings you endured at that monster’s hand… it all became clear now. But, what the other man could never figure out was what could’ve caused you to stay with a man who was not your own flesh and blood in the first place when your real father was still alive and breathing? 

The answer came to him borne on the wings of a heavy sigh. 

“Tomio’s wife—Meiko—was the only woman I have ever loved.” He poured himself another shot of sake. Shuji did not miss how his hands were shaking. “We were young and foolish. I got Meiko pregnant with Y/N when Tomio was at the height of his career. Before Tomio cleaned up my mess, Meiko and I were inseparable. In fact, all of us grew up with her and when I heard what I had done… I must confess, I did a cowardly thing.” His eyes turned glassy, and in this light, they looked almost like the curve of yours. “I left Y/N’s mother and went to the States. I never came back for her or for my baby. And then, when I finally mustered up the courage to face her, I found out she had passed away and my Y/N—my sweet girl—was raised by a man who worshipped the ground Meiko walked on but despised the reminder of me. Despised my baby.”

Touma chuckled hollowly. “I was so wracked by guilt that I never came back. I never stepped foot in Tokyo ever again. I let my daughter think that brute was her father and I never came back for her, I never—”

Shuji slammed his cup of sake down, cracking the glass. The air stilled. Electricity crackled in between his fingers, his heart fracturing into two. Touma’s lower lip wobbled.

“You should’ve come back for her. Maybe she would’ve known a father’s true love if you had just manned the fuck up and raised her.” Tears pricked in his eyes, and Touma’s countenance turned reticent.

“Even so. I heard the conditions for the marriage he imposed on you two. I also heard—pardon my intrusion—that it was far from a happy union.”

Shuji’s jaw clenched and he shot to his feet, his patience wearing thin for this sorry excuse of a man. “Whatever it is you heard, it’s far too late to give a shit about a woman who’s not even here.” His sneer pulled taut over his gaunt cheekbones, golden eyes manic with loss. “Don’t you see? She left me. Your daughter, niece, whatever the fuck she is to you—she’s pregnant with my baby and she left me because I was a piece of shit to her. A lying, cheating, fucking piece of shit. So in a way, you and I are the same—we’re both assholes in our own right.” 

He was breathing hard, tears beading in his lash line.

“But, the d-difference between you and I… the difference is that I will never stop searching for her. I will never abandon her like you did. I love her. I love her so much she’s all I can think about. I—”

He sucked in a sharp breath, clenching his jaw and turning his face away. The tears continued to pool in the back of his eyelids. 

Touma stood up and his eyes, so much like yours, bored into the side of Shuji’s face. He expected the older man to hit him, to avenge his daughter with a swift right hook that the younger man knew he deserved. He wouldn’t stop his strike; he would welcome it.

But, what he got instead was a hand on his shoulder, a pressure that echoed forlornly with a similar loss.

“Trust me.” Touma’s empty tone was haunting, his vacant eyes even more perturbing. “I know.” 

The older man patted his arm before he shuffled out of the empty wake room, his parting whisper hanging in the desolate silence. 

“I know what that regret feels like.” 

You awoke with a start, skin slicked with sweat. 

Outside, the world was shimmering with a starting pour that covered the world in a curtain of rain. You shrank back from the window when lightning arced ahead, and you tasted the fear in the back of your throat. 

As irrational as it was, you despised the downpour, and you curled back underneath the motel’s blanket, shivering. 

Thunder clapped and you clamped down on a shriek when the quick flash illuminated a figure outside the window, mere feet away from your frozen body. His hair slicked with rain, those oceanic eyes scanned the decrepit building, like he was debating if he should search the place. You hunched down the windowsill further when his gaze flitted past your position. 

Chifuyu had his hands in his pocket, a purse on his lips. Roving those listless eyes down the street, he bowed his head and walked down the street. You exhaled. 

Sitting with your back against the headboard, you quickly shook your head and tugged the threadbare curtains tightly shut, cutting off the sliver of orange street light illuminating your room.

Your tired eyes circled over your bare essentials; the bundle of clothes, the dwindling supply of cash. Come tomorrow, you were getting on the first train out of Tokyo and towards the closest airport. You just had enough money to book a one-way flight to Singapore. You would raise your baby away from this life. Away from the haunting skyscrapers of this great metropolis.

Anything to remove yourself from this world. 

A loud knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. The doorknob rattled and you shrank back, breathing hitched.

“Y/N?” 

Your stomach fell. How did he…?

“It’s ‘Fuyu. Hey. Can you open up? I’m just here to talk. You don’t have to be afraid.”

The sincerity shone brightly in his tone, and you cursed how sloppily you had left a trail. But, Chifuyu was a Toman leader. He had connections beyond your pathetic position. Finding you was as easy as asking the right person, and you supposed that was exactly what he had done.

“Y/N? Hey? You there?” 

Ungluing your limbs, you shuffled towards the door, holding onto your swelling belly, pausing inches from the thin wood. It was telling that Chifuyu gave you a choice to bridge the gap between him and the barrier. If he wanted to, he could easily break down the hinges and forcefully barge into the room.

But, he didn’t. He waited. 

You took in a shuddering breath. “What are you doing here?” 

A brief second of silence stretched between you both. “I came here to help you. And to share some news with you. May I come in?”

Hand on the knob, you debated for a second. Chifuyu seemed to read your mind.

“I’m not here to take you back to Toman. I won’t do that to you. I just want to talk and check up on you, Y/N.”

Heart in your throat, you glanced down at your rumpled silk nightie, and hastily tugged on a cardigan, remembering with searing clarity the hot lines of his muscular body against yours. Despite your reservations, your heart squeezed, and you swallowed down on your hesitation, opening the door. 

His forlorn expression brightened infinitesimally at your uncertain countenance.

“Y/N.” 

You stepped back, wary of being within arms length to him. There was no telling what was going on in Chifuyu’s mind. His blue eyes were stormy, brewing worse than the downpour outside.

Trickles of water beaded on his lashes, and he studied your features, waiting for you to speak.

“What do you want?” Your voice cracked, and you hated how small you sounded.

The edge in his blue orbs softened, and somehow, you knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

“I want to—”

“No.” 

His lips thinned into a frown and yours parted in surprise at how readily you defied another person without another thought to their feelings. You were a stranger even to yourself.

“Oh. I was about to tell you I want to help. I know you need to escape Tokyo, but I have to give you fair warning.” Nothing could prepare you for what he said next. “Shuji has men everywhere in the city looking for you. He’s getting desperate.” 

It didn’t make sense. Your head spun, and your lower lip was caught between your teeth. 

Chifuyu lowered his voice. “It’s not safe for me to be here. Can I come in?”

Confused by this turn of events, you let him into your room. Those blue eyes shimmered in the half-light, and you perched yourself on the edge of the lumpy mattress while he stood by the door. Despite the distance and his soaked clothes, you could still feel his warmth radiating from where you sat. 

“Shuji is devastated. He’s a fucking mess. I spoke to Iroto and he told me that bastard hasn’t slept for days.”

What does this have to do with me? You steeled your heart and cooled your gaze. “Oh. I see.”

Unperturbed by your lack of reactions, Chifuyu continued. “I also believe you deserve to know this… but, your father is dead. He passed on a few days ago. Shuji was the one who buried him.”

That gave you pause. Your chest twinged and you sucked in a sharp breath. Tou-san. You blinked your glistening eyes and nodded, head bowing forward. “Thank you for keeping me informed.”

Another stretch of silence. Chifuyu took one step forward, and at your lack of reaction, he took one more. And another. Until he was standing right in front of you. His knees touched the ground and he slowly reached out to grip your shaking palms. When you didn’t push him away, he squeezed, begging you without words to lift your head and look him in the eyes.

“I was so worried about you.”

Your fingers twitched in his grasp. “How did you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy, but I got wind of a single female living alone in a rundown motel. Word came back that she was far too clean-looking to belong to these streets. I put two and two together.”

You quirked a joyless smile. “Well, here I am. Happy with what you see?”

He was sincerity personified when he said, “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Safe. The word melted like a bitter drop on your tongue. “So, what are you going to do now that you found me? Are you gonna rat me out to Shuji?”

Chifuyu snorted, shaking his head lightly. A few raindrops dislodged from the tips of his raven hair and flecked onto your exposed knees. “Why would I do that? I told you, I want to help.”

Finally, your eyes met his. A world of pain and conflict swirled in them, echoing the forlorn sobriety in his. 

“I want to help,” he said again, softer. “You deserve someone to help you so please, lean on me, Y/N.”

A sob bubbled from the back of your throat, and tears sprang down your cheeks, faintly shining in the dead of the night. “I want to. But, I’m scared, ‘Fuyu. I’m so scared.”

“Don’t be,” he straightened, and gathered you into his arms. Your cheek pressed right to his pulse point, and you could smell his musk, taste the rain and salt from his skin. Chifuyu was careful to not overwhelm you with too much physical contact, and the press of his body next to yours was comforting rather than salacious.

He kissed your forehead.

“Tomorrow, I’m sending you on a train out of Tokyo. You can go to the closest airport and book the next flight to another country. I’ll—”

“No,” your vehemance was quieter this time. Chifuyu opened his mouth to retort, but you beat him to the punch. “There’s somewhere else I need to go. A safer place.” 

“A safer place? Where is it?” 

His curiosity was a flickering ember in the night.

You quelled it with the oddest answer.

“An apartment complex in Minato. Shuji will never find me there.”

Chifuyu’s confusion was palpable.

“But, before I do that, I have to handle something if you would consent to help me.” 

One hand curled on your belly, it was a losing fight to hold back the tears and the horrifying self-loathing deep within your soul. The battle was over before it even began. 

Don’t do this, your inner voice screamed. Don’t do it!

“Y/N? What is it—“

“I need you to take me to the abortion clinic and help me sign the permission slip,” your lower lip wobbled, fresh tears cascading down your face. Beside you, Chifuyu was made of stone. 

“I need your help to finally cut all ties with Shuji.”

The sorry excuse for a reaper stared out at the revolving world below his feet, holding a glass of whiskey tightly in his fist.

Golden eyes untouched by sleep and dark with despair mapped the turns and dips of Tokyo sprawled open like a patchwork quilt, listless in both actions and thought. His phone buzzed, but he let it go to voicemail. Too many times his hopes were raised, only for it to come crashing down when yet another report of his underling’s inability to find you reached his jaded ears. 

Shuji was tired.

More than that, he was exhausted.

Every morning, he would greet the world with mentally taxing thoughts of your well-being; where you were, if you were safe, and if—his throat tightened—if Shusei was well. 

His lost family. 

The glass of whiskey fell to the floor, his shaky hand unable to grasp onto it. 

Fuck. He would have to call someone to clean up this mess.  

Shuji breathed heavily, and his pocket vibrated again. Cursing, he fished for his phone, and when he heard who it was on the other line, he nearly growled.

“Shu—“

“Why do you still have my number?”

His clipped annoyance deterred her from replying. She cleared her throat and pushed on despite his irritation. “I wanted to give you my condolences on your father-in-law’s passing. I hope you and your family are okay.”

Family. Shuji’s eyes stung. He exhaled. “Sure. Thanks.”

He was about to end the call when Ichika’s next words stopped him short. “That is if Y/N is still there with you.”

“Huh—“

She ended the call, leaving him perplexed and reeling. Before he could dial his ex-mistress back to ask her exactly what the fuck she meant, someone knocked on his door.

“What?” Shuji gnashed his teeth when he saw it was Iroto. The underling bowed low, and spoke through stiff lips.

“Sir, I apologize for entering without permission, but there is something you must know.”

From the lapels of his coat, Iroto procured a brown envelope. Its contents became of interest to Shuji who watched impassively when the other man removed more than ten glossy photos. 

His heart lurched when it registered in his sleep-deprived mind who it was in those images. 

In every shiny square, your face was a sweet beam that served to heighten his curiosity, not quench it. You looked as fatigued as he did, and an air of despair was conscripted in the lines of your sweet expression. But, that was not the only thing that caught Shuji’s eye.

The familiar sign, the grey walls, and potted plants in front of what many assumed was a nondescript clinic. Shuji knew better. 

This was the same clinic he had meant to take Ichika for her abortion.

He stared numbly at the tears in your eyes, the pinch in your brow. The grief splashed out so clearly in this damning evidence of his destroyed hopes.

“When—“ Shuji’s voice failed him. “When did you take these photos?”

“Early this morning. My men had to develop these to make sure it was really her.” A beat of hesitation. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Iroto bowed, hastily shuffling out of the office before he could be subjected to the reaper’s infamous temper. Shuji was barely breathing. He stared holes into your countenance, memorizing the curve of your brow, the fall of your hair. 

Y/N… did you really do this? He sat back in his chair, letting the waves of self-hatred and loathing drag him under. I had no idea how much my actions affected you.

Shakily, he grasped onto the photos, the only living proof that you still roamed the same earth as him and held it close to his chest. His phone was regrettably empty of your sweet face, his ego never letting him consent to falling in love with his own wife—not even to taking photos of her—and for the upteenth time, Shuji cursed himself out. 

If only you had loved her sooner… if only you had stopped being an asshole… maybe your wife would still be here with you today.

Despicable. He was disgusting. 

Shuji pitched his head forward, breathing hard. He tossed the pictures aside, shooting to his feet and flipping his chair in the process; a loud cry wrenched from his lips as he started hurling pens, books, expensive ornaments into the opposite wall where they rebounded or shattered from the force of his grief. His anger was a typhoon, unbridled in its lust for destruction. He slammed his fists into the drywalls, leaving multiple indentations from the strength of his throws, and ripped his tie off, tugging on the roots of his hair with shaky fingers. 

Sorrow lined his muffled cries and he fell to his knees in the middle of the destroyed room, curling into a pitiful ball. The 6’5 renowned reaper of souls, who would not blink twice at gouging a man’s eyes out while he still stood breathing, was made up of heaving sobs and unrelenting regret for how he treated his wife.

Y/N… Shusei…

His heavy sobs reverberated across the room, and he wished you were right in front of him in this instance. You would know what to do; how to calm him down. Everything about you was goodness personified and he had lost out on the one person in his life who truly gave a shit about him. 

Worthless… he’ll grow up to be so worthless. A man’s face, so much like his own, sneering down at his trembling mother whose arms were like vines of protection around his frozen body. A complete waste of space—I should’ve killed him when I had a chance to. 

Shuji started giggling, his peals of laughter turning manic. Are you happy now? He cackled. Are you happy now, you bastard? You got what you wished for. I’m detestable. No one loves me and okasan is dead. Tell me, you fucking shithead—are you happy?

Pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, he blubbered a watery laugh. Looks like your words are right, otou-san. I am a waste of space.

“What’s going on?”

Hanma peeled his watery eyes towards the doorway where Kisaki cut an imposing figure. His ice blue orbs were wary, surveying the remnants of destruction surrounding the eye of the storm where his best man laid, still curled up in a ball.

“What happened?”

Of course. Kisaki didn’t know. He hadn’t had a chance to tell him about what transpired in his home life with the current political upheaval in Blood Phoenix going on. Shuji turned reticent, his voice hoarse and haunted. 

“She’s gone.” 

The atmosphere in the room turned subterranean.

“She left me after finding out the truth that I cheated on her. Y/N has aborted my baby. She’s gone.”

For the longest minute, Kisaki did not say anything. Shuji remained on his knees, in a gesture of supplication, waiting for the death blow that would end his life. 

“Ah. Well, Tomio is dead so it doesn’t matter. Y/N is free to go and the marriage can be made void if that is what you wish.” Shuji stared at a fleck of blood on Kisaki’s otherwise spotless dress shoe, rigid with disbelief.

“She was a lost cause, anyway. A woman that young and inexperienced was never going to inspire leadership in an organisation like the Blood Phoenixes. I had hopes you could fill in Tomio’s shoes, but with his own daughter lost to you, there should be no reason why those men should follow you, either. It’s a lost cause.”

Was Kisaki serious? Did he really think Shuji was mourning the end of this deal and not the loss of his wife?

Apparently, the Pierrot sensed his mood darkening. “Oh. Was that not why you were upset? You should be dancing in relief that I am this forgiving. I’m in a good mood.”

When Shuji did not reply, Kisaki sighed. “Unless, I read it all wrong and you did, in fact, fall in love with Tomio’s brat.”

“Do not call her a brat,” Shuji mumbled automatically, coming to your defense. 

Kisaki raised a perfectly groomed brow. “Hmm. So you did fall in love with her. I thought she meant nothing to you? That once you did your duty and gave her a son, you would run away with that secretary of mine—or did you think I wouldn’t know?”

Shuji froze, his heart dropping right into his stomach.

“You weren’t much of a telltale, but that slut? She could never hide her true emotions. Don’t worry. I’ve taken the liberty of firing her for jeopardising this deal. You don’t  have to punish your lover.”

“We’re not lovers,” Shuji’s hoarse voice interrupted Kisaki’s tirade. “Not anymore. I dumped her after realising that Y/N is the one I want and not Ich…” 

He trailed off, unable to speak your name and his previous mistress’s in one sentence. It would be dishonorable to you. The real love of his life. 

“A little bit too late for that, isn’t it?” Kisaki softened the blow of his callous observation by sauntering over the miraculously intact bar-cart and fixing a drink for Hanma. He poured a glass of whiskey and handed it to the lovelorn man, sitting himself on the floor opposite him and nursing his own drink.

Shuji knocked back the flask of amber liquid until his throat burned and he dragged the glass back, kissing his teeth and wincing. “Yeah, it is.”

The silence stretched on, filled with pockets of quiet sips and contemplation. 

“You still have time to fix this, y’know,” Kisaki murmured. Hanma gripped his glass of whiskey tighter, the amber liquid sloshing onto his wrist. 

“And tell her what? That I want her back? That I’m in love with her after all the shit I did? It’s going to take a miracle to do that.”   

“So, do it.” Kisaki’s monotonous voice spoke volumes. “You’re the famous reaper, so act like one.” 

Kisaki was not seriously expecting him to hound you till the ends of the earth like the famed creature of death, was he? 

Or… he was. 

While the Pierrot was his sole title, Hanma could feel it rubbing off on him—becoming one with his facade. The dreaded collector of souls turned into a lovesick clown. He would sneer in self-pity if his leader’s words didn’t ignite in him a new purpose.

“Do you think I should do that?”

Pinning him with a fire in his eyes that Shuji had never seen before, Kisaki nodded.

“Don’t let Y/N slip out from your fingers the way Hina slipped out from mine. You can still fix this.” 

With the zeal of a starving man, Hanma searched for you throughout Tokyo. 

He started with the abortion clinic, retracing your steps. Perhaps you were recovering in a motel nearby from the procedure. Scouting the different locations, he even got desperate enough to sniff out the love hotels, worried you may be on a short-term stay and he would miss out on your figure when his back was turned. 

Many receptionists, upon recognising the tattoos on the back of his hand, tightened their smiles the moment he walked in the doors. 

Yes, there are many single female travelers here, but we’re not allowed to disclose the guest list, sir. 

As if life held a veil to his eyes, no matter what he did, he could not seek you out.

I just want to tell her how sorry I am. Shuji rubbed his eyes, the exhaustion catching up to him. It had been days since he had a decent night of sleep. Every time his head hit the pillow, he would dwell for hours in a fitful state, waking up in starts and stops, gasping for air, reaching towards the end of your bed to pull you close to him, like he always would whenever he had a nightmare. But, you were not there.

Somedays, just to get a lick of the rest he was sorely denied, Shuji would spray your fragrance onto your favorite pillow, holding it close to his chest as he pretended it was you. 

Ten days without her. The sun was losing its brightness. Akasaka was cold and stark from his perch on top of the world, glittering with nothingness as his arms ached emptily. The memory of your silhouette in them growing dimmer.

He was afraid to forget you. 

Shuji, look! Your laughter rang in his head, one finger pointing outside the great floor-to-ceiling windows of your bedroom where you both would just lay on the soft mattress and watch the clouds past by. That one looks just like a burger.

This is the second time you’re seeing food in the clouds, doll. He would tighten his arm around your waist, brushing a kiss onto your head. I think the baby is hungry. 

Shuji choked on a sob, smoke filling his lungs from the half-burnt cigarette dangling limply in his hand. 

What was the use of all these riches in the world, the best penthouse in the district and heaps of cash in his name when he did not even have his sweet wife to share it with? 

He turned to the photos of you still on his bedside table. The last living remnants he had of you. It must’ve been the thousandth time he was trying to memorise your face; the sad curve of your frown, the sheen of tears in your eyes. God, he wished he could remember you in a happy veneer and not this heartbreaking rendition of the woman he loved.

Today, he was too tired to go to work. He sent a text to Kisaki, telling the other man he was feeling under the weather and that he needed time to recover. It was not a lie. The sight of you, hidden by a lumpy cardigan, your expression pinched in pain as you exited that abortion clinic, broke something deep in him.

Shuji scrubbed a hand down his face, flicking his smudged stick into the ashtray, lips pressed into a thin line.

Come back to me, my darling. 

He started to choke up, close to tipping the scale towards a breakdown when his phone beeped with a text.

His heart leapt when he saw the words on his screen, disbelief lining every crevice of his stunned expression.

Kisaki’s Secretary: I know where your wife is.

That was the first thing that rendered him mute. The second? It was his ex-mistress who sent him the message herself. 

Hanma wasted no time. He slipped on a simple t-shirt and a pair of jeans, running a hand through his hair to tame the waves. On a second thought, he strapped on a pair of black, leather gloves that hid the shake in his fingers. There was no time for styling his locks with pomade or even to brush them neatly back. He had to find you.

His driving was reckless as best, no other thought beyond the vision of you returning back into his arms. My Y/N… my love… 

The gas pedal almost touching the floor, Shuji raced towards Ichika’s apartment, wanting to hear from herself where his beloved wife was—and if she was pulling his leg, he was making sure to finish what he started that day in the apartment when she lied to him about her pregnancy. 

As fate would have it, the slender, pretty young woman was exiting her apartment when she nearly collided into his chest. Her sharp yelp was no match for his strength when he pushed her back through the door, locking it behind them as he bore down on her shivering figure, the fire in his golden eyes undeniable.

“Where is she?” he snapped without preamble.

Ichika, whose cheeks had leeched off colour, mutely opened and closed her mouth. Unable to speak. Shuji’s patience snapped.

“Well?” he snarled, taking one step closer to her, not missing how she flinched. “You got my attention now. Is that what you wanted?”

Ichika regained her composure and tacked on a sneer. Wrenching the silver ring from her finger, she threw it right into his face, enjoying with a perverse delight when the untamable rage spread across his features.

“I know this fucking pathetic ring was not meant for me. Take it back home to that bitch you call your wife and tell her—”

“I know it was you who shared our sex tape with Y/N.”

Her tirade died in the back of her throat. Ichika’s eyes widened, the fear behind them palpable. “H-how—”

“My men managed to recover Y/N’s Cloud before her phone was thrown down from the balcony. The messages are there. I know it was you.”

Rising to his full anger, Shuji let the angst and heartbreak take him under. Fully drenching him in an impenetrable red fog. “I just didn’t want to believe it because I thought you would understand. You would understand how much Y/N means to me. But, you’re a selfish bitch. You never wanted to marry me or have a family, so why couldn’t you let me go and find it with someone who does? You fucking ruined my marriage!”

He bellowed the last part, slamming two hands around her neck, squeezing hard enough to make her eyes bulge. 

Ichika struggled, gasping for breath, her fingernails stabbing into his arms. 

“Tell me where is she,” Shuji sobbed, not a shred of composure left in his body. He had fully given himself into the dark impulses that flashed in his mind—completely hellbent on destroying the woman who took everything from him. “You could’ve lived happily with the money my gifts gave you. You could’ve—fuck, shut up! Stop fucking crying! You don’t deserve to cry. You don’t deserve to fucking cry like you’re a victim here.”

Her mouth fell open, gaping wide, shrieks reduced to reedy, clattering breaths. 

“So, where is she!” Shuji shook her hard enough for her teeth to clatter together. “What did you do to my wife?” 

For one split second, Shuji was sure Ichika was possessed by a being not from this earth. Her eyes gained a startling lucidity and she stopped struggling, blue in the face, but her words resounded clearly as if she spoke it in his mind.

“It was you who destroyed everything you held dear.”

The light dimmed from her eyes, every last force of her life used to spit those words in his face. Ichika, the woman he once loved, whose soul he cherished as a mockery of his own, went limp in his arms, her mouth lax and tongue lolling out, chin wet with spittle and the explanation she could never give before he killed her.

He killed her. 

Shuji let go of her body like he had been scalded, her lifeless form thudding to the ground, heavy like a sack of potatoes falling.

“Fuck—no, no, no.” He gasped, reaching back for her lifeless form, shaking her lightly. “Ichika? Hey, come on. No, don’t do this. Don’t—”

It was useless for him to beg. She would not hear.

He stifled a sob and set her back down, cradling her limp head like it was a broken bird’s neck. Shuji tried for a pulse but could not find it, and he hiccuped back a keen, stepping away from the body. 

There was nothing else he could do. Nothing else but give an anonymous tip to the police, hoping they would arrive soon. His dead mistress’s silver ring glinted in his periphery and he quickly snatched it up, not leaving a trace behind. 

He ducked his head low, steering clear of CCTV’s and crossing one unblinking camera down the hall. The same one he had disabled the day he crawled into her shitty apartment to fuck her on her pink satin sheets.

I’m a dangerous man, doll—no one can know I’m doing this with you.

No dash cams were around as far as his eye could see; though the sun burned hotly on the back of his neck, reminding him that even if there were no earthly spectators, his dark misdeeds could never be hidden from a celestial sight.

Shuji cursed under his breath , quickening his pace when he heard the first wails of an ambulance siren in the distance. He pulled out of her apartment compound the exact second a screeching police car drove in, narrowly catching him right at the scene. 

He adjusted his glasses, hightailing it out of here before they could connect her heinous death to his name. His glove-clad hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he did not ease up until he arrived back into the penthouse, shaking and itching for a drink.

Discarding his gloves into the sink, he reached for the whiskey cabinet, sloppily pouring himself a glass and knocking it back frantically. 

Though there was no blood on his hands, he could not shake off the pressing itch that he was drenched in his ex-mistress’ gore.

Ichika’s face flashed in his mind; her beautiful features falling flat in death, her words shaking him to the core.

It was you who destroyed everything you held dear.

It was you who destroyed everything you held dear.

It was you who destroyed everything you held dear.

Shuji threw the expensive glass across the room, watching as it shattered, the broken shards that caught the light of the dying sun mimicking the tears glinting down his cheeks. 

She’s right—I truly am the Reaper… everything I touch dies.

a/n: reblogs and feedback are much appreciated!!

© all works belong to lalalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

Better without you

They cheat on you / break up with you, but you actually get happier without them.

Sanzu Haruchiyo, Haitani Rindou, Hanma Shuji, Haitani Ran(and Mitsuya Takashi;) ) x gn!reader

PART TWO

Now playing: Don Toliver - No Idea

Sanzu Haruchiyo

Since you've been gone, I've been just okay

“You’re nothing without me.” Sanzu points at you. “You can say whatever you want, but you know that it’s true. You’ll never find anyone else like me.”

“I know.” You wipe the tears from your face. “And I think that’s for the better. I gave you the world, Sanzu. I did everything for you. For us. And this is what you do? You fuck the first bitch you see at a party?”

“Whatever. You’ll be back soon.”

———

Walking around town with a couple of people, he had the biggest smirk on his face. Kanto Manji gang was already the top gang in Japan and things couldn’t get any better.

“Yo, Sanzu.” Ran slaps his back. “Isn’t that your ex?”

And as he turned around, he saw you talking with your friends. You laughed at something one of them said. He noticed how you were glowing, looking way better than you did during the relationship. And he felt a pang in his chest. You were right, weren’t you? You don’t need someone like him. Sanzu scoffs and pretends like seeing you so happy didn’t hurt.

“Whatever. They’ll be crawling back to me soon.”

Haitani Rindou

I know you mad, you didn't see it my way

“Can you for once just understand how this whole situation makes me feel?!” You yell out frustrated. “Why can’t you just see it from my point of view! You never listen to me. You just do everything your own way and then get mad at me when I try to treat you how you treat me! You’re a fucking hypocrite, Rin.”

“Whatever.” He just rolls his eyes and looks back at his game.

“You’re doing it again! I can’t remember the last time we spent our time together. I shouldn’t even be talking about this with yo-“

“So shut it.”

“Huh?” Your eyes widen.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re so fucking annoying.” Rindou bangs his fist on the table that held his gaming set up. “Always bitching about everything. If you hate how I ignore you so much, why don’t you just leave huh? Fucking dumbass.”

———

That day you did leave. And you never answered his calls or messages. Whenever he tried to talk to you, you would just walk past him, or just switch routes so you wouldn’t even have to see him. You started treating him like he treated you the whole relationship. Rindou knew he fucked up bad and he didn’t know how to get you back.

Hanma Shuji

Since I've been gone, I've been out of space

“You make me so fucking stressed, Shuji.” You sigh as you finish wrapping bandaids over his hands. “You disappear for weeks or months and don’t text, or call. I never know where you are and if you’ll come back. I hate it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, babe. It won’t happen again. I swear.” He kisses the top of your head.

You knew his words didn’t hold any meaning. He would sweet talk you into staying and then he’d disappear again, leaving you alone with the dark thoughts of what could have happened to him. But for now you’d just stay in his arms.

———

So after he didn’t reach out to you in four months, you decided to just end it there and grabbed your belongings from his apartment. At first it was hard. You’d check your phone for any new messages or calls, but after a while you realised how better you felt after leaving.

Ran Haitani (ft. Mitsuya Takashi)

I let lil' Shawty, come here, take your place

“I can’t believe you. I gave you a chance to change after the first time..” you feel your heart breaking, a lump was forming in your throat and you wanted to scream, to throw whatever was near you into walls. “And you went ahead and cheated on me for the second time?! Do you have no fucking shame, Haitani?” You looked at him and felt your stomach drop. He had a smirk on his face and his eyebrows were raised. Like this whole thing was just a show he was watching on the tv.

“You’re stupid if you think I can and will actually change. It’s not my fault you’re so dependent on me.” He shrugs his shoulders. “If I were you, I would’ve left ages ago.”

———

Ran was walking around Roppongi with Rindou. They wanted to visit a caffe that opened not too far from their apartment. And when they walked in Ran felt his stomach explode and his hands started shaking. There you were sitting in a booth, smiling happily while a guy him and his brother hated, was holding your hand and making you blush. Mitsuya Takashi healed your heart and made you forget about him. Ran couldn’t stand the thought of you belonging to someone else.

You want a paper plane, I don't mind

I wonder why your girl always smiling

Mitsuya felt someone staring at him and as he lifted his eyes, he tried to contain a smile. The Haitani brothers were both staring at you and him. He lifted your hand which he was holding and left a gentle kiss on your wrist. He doesn’t mind giving you the world if it meant you’d smile at him like that. It was Ran’s loss.