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neurodivergent-and-mentally-ill · 27 days ago

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TW: Yandere shit, probably dead dove, don't read under this cut if you can't handle gore or manipulations or mentions of, well, death.

I got the definitions from a friend who copied them from I don't really know where, but I think it's someone from Tumblr.

Types of yanderes:

Clingy:

This Yandere type is too emotionally dependent on their Darling. They’re emotionally fragile; requiring constant attention and support. They’re the type to constantly phone and text their Darling, and they can feel overwhelmed if the subject of their clinginess isn’t around. They work to insert themselves into their beloved’s personal life and become very angry when their Darling is not available to them. Their smothering is draining.

Obsessive:

This Yandere type is fixated; their Darling is the only thing on their mind, and it’s taking over. The obsessive Yandere is a prisoner to their own thoughts. Their obsession leads to poor eating, sleeping habits and withdrawal from society. They’re the type to spend so much time fantasizing about the relationship they could have and how it might evolve: that first meeting, a rescue scenario, being the one person their Darling trusts with their most intimate secrets, an instant bond and connection, sexual fantasies, etc. This is typically the type stalkers fall into.

Possessive:

This Yandere type needs to own and dominate their Darling. They become aggressive if their ownership is threatened and grow angry if their Darling makes independent decisions. They want the Darling utterly dependent on them and they will remove all of their safety nets to do so: friends and family members who support them, financial assets and savings, much-needed resources, etc.

Manipulative:

This Yandere type will exercise unscrupulous control and influence over their Darling. This is the type of Yandere were their relationship with their Darling will appear normal. If their Darling is already in a relationship, they will use a position of trust to create wedges between in that relationship. And once they are together, the Yandere will do everything to stop them from leaving, from encouraging co-dependence to using their Darling’s secrets and weaknesses against them.

Overprotective:

This Yandere type is inclined to safeguard, shield, or carefully supervise their Darling to an obsessive degree. They never leave their Darling alone, and they don’t know how to balance their concern with respect for their Darling’s independence and freedom. They believe they’re acting in their beloved’s best interest, but they come across as overbearing, bossy, or controlling.

Sadistic:

This Yandere type will intentionally cause suffering by bringing about emotional or physical harm to their Darling and will derive pleasure from doing so. They’re the type to spreading rumors and lies about their Darling to isolate them. Or let their Darling escape only to dash their hopes by re-capturing them. They’re fascinated with the physical, mental, and emotional limitations of their Darling and how to reach them. They just want to watch their beloved squirm under their control.

Delusional:

This Yandere type holds the belief or impressions that their Darling already loves them, which is typically contradicted by reality. They take their Darling’s actions the wrong way; if they do something out of kindness, the Yandere will think it’s out of love. If their Darling says they don’t love the Yandere, they’ll think it’s all lies, or they’re Darling is just shy. Their love distorts the reality they perceive.

Self-indulgent:

This Yandere type wants to be worshipped by their Darling. They’re selfish, satisfying their own desires and whims without restraint. They act according to what they want rather than thinking of what’s best for themselves or others. They want their Darling to pamper them and often express impatience when gratification is delayed. They have a “me first�� attitude and become disgruntled when having to do something that isn’t on their agenda.

Impulsive:

This Yandere type acts on desires, whims, or inclination without forethought, which makes them one of the more dangerous ones. They act in response to their emotions and don’t always think about how their actions can affect others. They are also prone to erratic mood changes, overreacting, outbursts, kidnapping, murder and the list goes on. A positive side would be their transparency; they tend not to think before thinking, so they tend to be honest.

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HEARTSLABYUL

🌹🌹🌹

Name: Riddle Rosehearts

Class: 2-E

Type: Pretty obvious, but Riddle is an Overprotective Yandere. He will dictate your every move because he believes that he knows what's best for you.

Scale from 1-10: Not gonna lie, with the mommy issues and his strict, unrelenting personality, he'd be a 8/10. The only reason he isn't a 10 is because he doesn't want to be exactly like his mom. Sure he'd basically never let you out of his sight, but he wouldn't hurt you. Riddle would restrain you, at most, by putting a collar with a lead around your neck at all times. See how caring he is?

Whether he would kill: Absolutely, if it means you'll listen to his rules.

Whether he would share: Maybe, just maybe, with Trey. Other than him? NO.

How much freedom you are allowed: He doesn't want unruly troublemakers like Ace or Grim around you, so you'll probably be put on a schedule much like how he keeps one for himself.

Habits: Brushing your hair (if you have any), dressing you up, feeding you small cakes.

Escape attempt (successful): "NO! Nononono, I can't lose my rose! I'll find you, and when I do, I'll strip you of your thorns once and for all! You'll have no choice but to stay with me! I'll never let you out of my sight again!"

Escape attempt (failed): "Ha! Oh, how careless of you, rosebud! You thought you could escape from the Queen of Hearts? For your treason, it's OFF WITH YOUR HEAD- ah... no, I could never hurt you... it must have been those rulebreakers who put such thoughts in your head!"

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Name: Trey Clover

Class: 3-E

Type: Manipulative all the way. He's highly intelligent and with his signature spell, anything you eat could be laced with a potion of some sort that might influence how you see him and/or other people.

Scale: Trey is not a character I'm all too familiar with, but since he's using stuff to mess with our brains, he's getting put at a sold 9/10.

Whether he would kill: He could kill. With his spell, no matter what kind of autopsy they do on the body, they won't find a damn thing. And he makes sure you know of this. But in reality, he probably wouldn't. Probably.

Whether he would share: Although he isn't one to get jealous or violent easily, that doesn't mean he's willing to share.

How much freedom you are allowed: It would depend on your behavior and how dependent you are to him. If you're deep into his manipulations, you might not want to leave his side due to his intoxicated sweets.

Habits: Feeding you, kissing the top of your head, rubbing your thighs.

Escape attempt (successful): "Oh dear... it seems my rabbit has fled. I'll need to bring them home before they get hurt and feed them something that'll ensure they have a good night's rest."

Escape attempt (fail): "Where are you going, dear? You haven't even touched your dinner. No, no, it's not safe for you to go alone. Why don't I bring you something that will make you forget about this silly self-dependency?"

♦️♦️♦️

Name: Cater Diamond

Class: 3-B

Type: Clingy-Obsessive. Cater would stalk you constantly, has a wall with your pictures, and probably has a couple of your items, but nothing too bad like your underwear. It's easy for him to keep an eye at you 24/7 because of his unique magic, which allows him to make clones of himself. He needs your constant validation and attention like a whiny puppy.

Scale: Honestly, Cater is about a 5/10. He won't hurt you, but he would hurt himself if you ever tried to leave. He has his clones to keep an eye on you and he's more likely to break into your house to cuddle with you, rather than 'punish' you for looking at other people.

Whether he would kill: No, he'd more likely ruin their social life to keep a person away from you.

Whether he would share: He doesn't really want to give your attention up for another person, but if it would make you happy and if it was someone he was comfortable around, I guess.

How much freedom you are allowed: You are allowed complete freedom, but that's only because he can find you at any given time.

Habits: Taking erotic pictures of you, randomly pulling you toward him in hugs.

Escape attempt (successful): "B-babe? Where are you?! Babe!" *sobs and calls you, but goes straight to voicemail and leaves this*. "If you leave me, I'm going to kill myself! I'll drive off the bridge! And I'll let the entire world know that it's your fault!"

Escape attempt (fail): "Where are you going, baby? Y-you're not leaving me, right? You can't! I'll follow you wherever you go! I'll treat you better than anyone else ever could and if you plan on leaving, I'm going to slit my wrists!"

❤❤❤

Name: Ace Trappola

Class: 1-A

Type: Ace, despite always trying to push his work on others, is actually very smart and knows how to play people. He'd probably be another manipulative one, but with a sprinkle of possessiveness. Not too much, just to the point where you understand that you are Ace's.

Scale: 6/10 like Trey, although Ace would actually leave a couple bruises if you piss him off, but nothing more than that.

Whether he would kill: Unlikely. If he was really pissed off, he'd probably beat you instead and would choke you out for a good couple minutes before letting go and dragging you to his place to clean you up, apologize, gaslight you, etc.

Whether he would share: Nah. Ace is a greedy little shit, he don't want no one getting handsy with you.

How much freedom you are allowed: Enough for classes, since you share most of them, but other than his time at basketball practice and games, he's with you.

Habits: Putting an arm on your shoulder to remind you who's boss, hug you from behind.

Escape attempt (successful): "Where the fuck are you?! If you think that someone other than me is going to love you the way you are, you're WRONG! So just come home now and I promise I won't be too mad. After all, I'm the only one who cares about a nobody like you."

Escape attempt (fail): Slap! "Did you really think that you could run away from me?! You fucking idiot, I'm way more athletic than an average chump like you! What, you thought that someone would take you in out of pity? Not a chance. Don't worry though, I'll never stray from you."

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Name: Deuce Spade

Class: 1-A

Type: Impulsive Overprotector. He thinks everyone is a potential threat to you and flies off the handle if someone so much as rolls their eyes at you.

Scale: 7/10

Whether he would kill: No, but he could- and would -definitely send people to the hospital.

Whether he would share: Nope! Big no! Any potential partner addition you bring will leave your place as minced meat.

How much freedom you are allowed: Deuce does not want to hurt you at all if he can help it, so you can go anywhere as long as he can go with you. When in familiar places, like NRC, he's less prone to jealousy and won't tail you. Same goes for when you're with friends. He knows you won't cheat because he will send whoever you've been seeing to the emergency room.

Habits: Loves cuddling, going for rides together in his blastcycle, and overall just enjoys your company. He's a simple man.

Escape attempt (successful): "Shit! Prefect, come back! It's not safe for a weakling like you, damn it! I'll get you back safe and sound in my arms even if it means breaking a couple bones. That'll teach you to run from your guardian!"

Escape attempt (fail): "Where the hell do you think you're going? You're seeing him again?! I'll break his face if you leave this room! Oh? You want to stay and watch a movie with me instead? Good idea."

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SAVANACLAW

🦁🦁🦁

Name: Leona Kingscholar

Class: 3-A

Type: Leona would be a hell-spawn mix of possessive, manipulative, and self-indulgent. Yup. Being rich and crazy does something to ya.

Scale: 10/10. Leona would spare no expense to get you and control you. Being a prince, he'd easily use money to his advantage and force you to be financially dependent on him and he'd basically treat you like a toy, but also expect you to indulge in his every whim and fancy. He would want you to worship him and praise him constantly.

Whether he would kill: Absolutely if it means getting you in his claws.

Whether he would share: Absolutely not! And if you look at someone too long, poof! They're turned to sand.

How much freedom you are allowed: Zero freedom, almost zero privacy. No showers alone, no changing without him, no sleeping alone. You can guess the ONE thing you can do alone.

Habits: Grabbing your ass out of nowhere just because he can. It don't matter if people are around, what the hell are they gonna say to a prince? He probably has a public or semi-public kink. And because he's a cat, maybe a piss kink too- (tbh, I don't understand why people find it hot, but I'm not one to kinkshame here)

Escape attempt (successful): "Stupid mouse... do they even realize that I let them leave? Oh, the look on their pretty face is going to be so sweet when they realize that they were played. Heh. Until then, I'll take a nap. Maybe they'll come crawlin' back on their own. It's not like they have anything to their name."

Escape attempt (fail): "Poor little mouse, got yourself cornered without making it past the bedroom door. Let me tell you a little secret; you aren't goin' back home. And if you try to leave again, your friends will become nothing more than a few sandbags, got it? Good. Come lay down before I break your legs."

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Name: Ruggie Bucchi

Class: 2-B

Type: Manipulative and obsessive. Maybe he'll just hang out with you, but oh no, the guy you hate was making fun of you. Somehow, the dude ends up paralyzed from the waist down after jumping off the balcony on the third story.

Scale: 9/10. He's smart and hard to pin down with evidence since he doesn't leave any. Even if you wanted to run away, with his signature spell, you can't. Like it or not, he's your problem now. And you'd be wise to ensure he gets enough attention or he might just shorten your circle of friends.

Whether he would kill: It wouldn't be his first option, but if needed, then yes.

Whether he would share: Sure, but if the other person gets too bold, Ruggie would cut them out for good. He would probably only share with Leona, but only if Leona helps keep you in place.

How much freedom you are allowed: Considering that Ruggie is far more athletic than you, he has his signature spell, and that he could also just sniff you out, you're allowed a great deal of freedom.

Habits: Burying his face in your neck, asking for head rubs, very touchy-feely.

Escape attempt (successful): "Hah! I won't let you slip away! You're the only one who saw past where I came from! You're not escaping that easy. Time to find out just how hard this hyena can bite, Prefect!"

Escape attempt (fail): "Shishishi! Seeing you try to run away when I can just make you dance my dance is funny! Why don't you laugh with me? Aw, why'd ya stop running? Something the matter? Shishishi..."

🐺🐺🐺

Name: Jack Howl

Class: 1-B

Type: Overprotective-possessive. Like Deuce, he can and will hospitalize somebody, but unlike Deuce, Jack won't snap at random folk giving you a side eye.

Scale: 7/10. He would absolutely beat up someone who made you mad or hurt and probably worse than Deuce. He's much more possessive though. When it comes to trusted friends, not so much, but anyone else? They get a death-glare. And ain't no one wants to mess with a wolf that could break their neck just by squeezing his hand.

Whether he would kill: Only if someone severely hurt you or tried to physically take you from him.

Whether he would share: Small chance. He's possessive not because he wants to own you or anything, he just doesn't want anyone else to be near you. Wolf instincts or something.

How much freedom you are allowed: Generally, he wants to be near you as much as possible. Wolves are pack animals and beastmen did evolve from the animal they take after, so the instinct that you two need to be together at all times runs strong. Not much time for yourself, really.

Habits: Sniffing you, licking your throat/neck, surprisingly clingy sleeper.

Escape attempt (successful): "GRR! You think you can just run from me?! I'll sniff you out faster than you can blink! Especially when I UNLEASH THE BEAST!"

Escape attempt (fail): "Goin' somewhere? Nah, you're not doin' that- you want to leave me? Fat fucking chance." Picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. "We're gonna go back inside. Stop squirmin' around so much before I break your legs!" (he wouldn't actually)

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OCTAVINELLE

🐙🐙🐙

Name: Azul Ashengrotto

Class: 2-C

Type: Another manipulative mix. He's smart when it comes to people, almost terrifyingly so, but he's also very clingy. He needs you to be around him 24/7 or he'll lose his shit. Probably forced you into a contract one way or another. He'd gaslight you pretty bad, but he'd also worship you to make you think that he's the only one who cares about you. He might also be a little delusional.

Scale: 9/10

Whether he would kill: Azul would say, "coincidence is not correlation."

Whether he would share: Honestly, pulling this boy out of the yandere hat would pretty much guarantee you're getting the Leech twins as well.

How much freedom you are allowed: Between the three of the Octrio? Little to none. But hey, at least you might get some privacy if Azul makes you sign a contract to prevent you from running.

Habits: Probably likes to have you sit in his lap while he's working in his office, dress you up, take long baths together, another cuddle bug.

Escape attempt (successful): "Ha... HAHAHAHAHA! You actually managed to tear up that contract and run! Hah... this won't do. Not. At. All. I'll hide you away from the rest of the world when I get my tentacles on you. You'll never see the light of day again at the bottom of the fucking ocean!"

Escape attempt (fail): "Oh, treasure. How silly of you to try and run! I didn't make you sign that contract for nothing. I have your location at all times, so next time you try something like this, I'll have the twins break your legs. Or better yet, how about I take your legs and trade them for a lovely tail, hm? Let's make a deal."

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Name: Jade Leech

Class: 2-E

Type: Sadistic. This motherfucker would use whips, degrade you in the worst way possible, had a blood kink and probably gets turned on by your tears.

Scale: Most people would think that Floyd would be the more dangerous one, but they're wrong. Jade is a 10/10. I believe that he loves seeing you cry because in the Coral Sea, you can't see tears. Therefore he's fascinated by them. Lucky for you that Azul can just magic your scars away with a deal.

Whether he would kill: Again, can you prove it was him? Hm? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Whether he would share: Again, buy one, get two free with the Octrio.

How much freedom you are allowed: He'd probably give you lots of freedom if only to enjoy stalking you while you were unaware.

Habits: Serving you (whatever you're thinking is right), feeding you his weird ass mushrooms, because he's got the whole butler vibe going on, he loves forcing you into maid outfits (gender doesn't matter).

Escape attempt (successful): "Oya, the latest report on my beloved says- what?! How did they manage to run away? Pfft- clever little minnow, swimming between the cracks of the contract. How fun, this game. I'll have you begging on your knees in no time."

Escape attempt (fail): "Come out, come out wherever you are~ I know you're hiding here somewhere. You couldn't have gotten far with Floyd guarding the exit. Little Pearl, I'll make your punishment light if you come out now... no? Nothing? Good. I like it better when you're begging me to stop anyway." Silence. Then a gloved hand covers your mouth from behind you. "Found you~"

🦐🦐🦐

Name: Floyd Leech

Class: 2-D

Type: Despite what you may think, he's not a sadist like his brother. He's completely impulsive in his actions and prone to violence, but he won't go out of his way to see you tremble underneath him or anything. Unless he was in the mood for that kind of thing. It really depends on his mood.

Scale: Anywhere from a 7 to a 10/10. Some days he might just squeeze and bruise your bones in a very loveable hug, other days... you're getting dragged around by your tie or collar, choked out for pissing him off, bitten all over your body, or maybe he just wants to cuddle for five consecutive hours.

Whether he would kill: Yes and he'd want everyone to know. Jade and Azul hide the evidence and body and/or blackmail whoever they need to.

Whether he would share: If he was in a good mood, yeah, but if he's in a I'm-never-gonna-let-you-leave-my-bed mood, not so much.

How much freedom you are allowed: Depends on how fast you are-

Habits: Literally just picking you up and carrying you around like a doll.

Escape attempt (successful): "Where did Koebi-chan go? I was kinda feelin' down, but a game is the perfect way to go! A game where if I catch Koebi-chan, I'll squeeze them 'til their bones crack and break their legs! Ahahaha! They'll never think about leaving me again!"

Escape attempt (fail): Sigh. "This is no fun, Shrimpy! I'm in the mood for tag, not hide 'n seek!" CRASH! A table is thrown close to where you were hiding, making you back away, the smallest of rustles made. "Oya? Did I scare ya, shrimpy? That's cute. I guess I'll just have to close my eyes and count from one to ten. If you make it out the door, you're free. Ready? One... two... TEN!" You barely had time to stand up, much less run as he went straight from two to ten. "Gotcha~"

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SCARABIA

☀️🌞☀️

Name: Kalim Al-Asim

Class: 2-A

Type: Completely delusional and clingy. He genuinely believes that you love him, you just need to be pampered more. You'll stop fighting if he gets you enough jewels, right?

Scale: Pretty mild, maybe a 4/10. I mean, he won't let you out of his sight and he's the heir to one of, if not the, richest families in the world, so you're not leaving him and he may chain you with a long lead to let you 'adapt to your surroundings', but he would never hurt you. Nor would he let anyone else hurt you.

Whether he would kill: The thought would never even cross his mind.

Whether he would share: Why would he? He's basically a prince (I know he's not actually one) that has everything he could ever want, why would he start sharing now? Except with Jamil.

How much freedom you are allowed: You can have anything, go anywhere, as long as Kalim and his guards are with you.

Habits: Humming while cuddling you, dancing with you, touching you in some way or form, always hugging you.

Escape attempt (successful): "Guards! Please find my sunshine! Spare no expense, I just want them found and safe! I-I..." Sob. "I promise to be better next time, to give them more attention! So much that they'll never want to leave again!"

Escape attempt (fail): "S-Sunshine, where are you going? I... I don't think I can give you that. I can give you anything else though! I'm sorry, but I think I need to have my guards chain you again. D-don't cry, I promise I won't hurt you! If you don't want that, then maybe a talk with Jamil will help."

🐍🐍🐍

Name: Jamil Viper

Class: 2-C

Type: If you've finished the fourth book, it's pretty obvious that he's a manipulative asshole and because he's used to sharing everything with Kalim, you are his most prized possession that Kalim will never touch. I love him, I really do, but you're gonna be under his control all day, every day.

Scale: 8/10

Whether he would kill: Jamil? Kill? It's not his fault the other people you were talking to killed themselves.

Whether he would share: You are the one damn thing he won't share.

How much freedom you are allowed: Under his unique magic, you won't want to leave his side.

Habits: Making you serve him.

Escape attempt (successful): "A-AGH! NO! You can't leave me! You're mine, my diamond! I didn't want to get that starry-eyed dimwit involved, but you leave me no choice! I'll use my magic on Kalim and get him to initiate a search for you country-wide!"

Escape attempt (fail): "Darling, is there a reason you haven't been looking at my face today? Did the spell wear off? Oh, don't worry; you'll be back to feeling those beautiful emotions again. After all, you love me, right?" You don't get a chance to move before Jamil grabs your face and forces you to look at him, that half second you look into his eyes before closing your own costing you dearly. "Snake charmer."

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POMEFIORE

👑👑👑

Name: Vil Schoenheit

Class: 3-C

Type: Tell me I'm wrong, but Vil would be self-indulgent. He'd put you under a curse (since that's his specialty) and make you adore him. Might be overprotective too. He probably doesn't want anyone to 'taint your purity' or whatever.

Scale: 10/10. What? He tried to murder, or at least curse, Neige, don't tell me this boy ain't a walking inferiority-superiority complex.

Whether he would kill: Uhhh, SCD anyone? Yeah. Vil would.

Whether he would share: Not in a million years.

How much freedom you are allowed: LMAO, YOU FUCKING WISH!

Habits: Obviously also very touchy, he would dress you to match with him, make you do his skincare routine, force you to bathe together, but he probably won't be as strict about your diet. Only because he doesn't want your crying about losing your favorite snacks to ruin your makeup.

Escape attempt (successful): "Tsk. They must have broken the curse somehow. Or maybe it was one of their nasty little friends. Oh, well. I guess it's time to use something a little... stronger. Let's see you try to run when the only thing in your head is ME!"

Escape attempt (fail): "My cute little potato, trying to run. Before you go, do tell me how much you enjoy this perfume!" Sprays a bottle of perfume he had inflicted a curse onto. "Poor potato, to drop onto the ground so ungracefully. You can't feel your limbs? Darling, you're not supposed to! I'll fix you right up with a cup of tea. It's a special blend, meant to invoke your suppressed desires for me. We'll go back to that picture perfect power couple soon enough."

🏹🏹🏹

Name: Rook Hunt

Class: 3-A

Type: Impulsive and obsessive. This man is, uh, he's something.

Scale: 9/10. He doesn't really want to hurt you physically, but oh how he loves chasing you. And the look on your face when he finds your newest hiding spot? It sends a rush through his body. He also loves 'viewing' you in your 'natural habitat'. Y'know, like a stalker.

Whether he would kill: He prefers the term 'hunting'.

Whether he would share: Sure, if they can take you from him. But even Leona is afraid of this guy while Malleus actively avoids him, so who tf is gonna snatch you back?

How much freedom you are allowed: The freedom you get is when you run. Then he inevitably finds you and ties you up. I don't know, this man is kinky af, okay?

Habits: Like Cater, he has a wall of photos of you. I feel like he'd let you run off on purpose, then he'd hunt you down, or wait until you get caught in one of his traps he set up. Probably has a pet play kink.

Escape attempt (successful): "My, my... little trickster has certainly lived up to their name! I can't seem to find them anywhere! I suppose it's time to pull out the very last trick in my book! Come, let’s see you try to outrun me. I See You. I'll track you down, one way or another."

Escape attempt (fail): "Got yourself strung up by one of my nets, I see! Ah, perhaps steel was too strong for a magic-less person, I can see where the wiring had cut into your skin. No matter, you're still beautiful to me! In fact, these new scars liken you to a tiger! I'll get you down and we'll have a nice evening game, if you still want to leave. Non? You don't wish to run anymore? Merveilleux! We shall stay in tonight!"

🍎☠️🍎

Name: Epel Felmier

Class: 1-B

Type: Epel was difficult to pinpoint, ngl. I decided that him being an impulsive and clingy yandere fit best, but he's not all that emotionally fragile, so idk. Lmk in the comments if you have better ideas, I guess.

Scale: 2/10. He wants your attention and he loves the feeling of security he gets from being around you, gets a little jelly when you look at other people, but as long as you reassure him that you love him, he'll back off. Might be a little manipulative since he'll probably use his looks to charm and sway you.

Whether he would kill: I could imagine him threatening someone with a cast iron pan like Rapunzel, but killing someone? Nah.

Whether he would share: Just because he's not all aggro does not make him a good yandere. He ain't sharing y'all.

How much freedom you are allowed: Tbh, he'd ask Rook to keep an eye on you when he can't.

Habits: Despite his looks, he's a strong farm boy and I strongly believe he's be able to live a six foot something man over his shoulders easily, so I guess you guys are getting piggybacks for life. He probably wouldn't even break a sweat, lol.

Escape attempt (successful): "Do ya think I'm just some apple pickin' munchkin?! I ain't letting go of ya, even if it means putting you to sleep for eternity! When I find ya, your gonna get one helluva throwdown!"

Escape attempt (fail): "Sugar, are you going somewhere? I don't believe that's proper- huh? You're leaving me?! I don't think so, sugar! I'll be damned if ya think about rollin' around with one of those uptight city folk! Mah family's gonna want to meetcha! Close your eyes, still your breath. Crimson Slumber!"

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

IGNIHYDE

💙💀💙

Name: Idia Shroud

Class: 3-B

Type: We already KNOW we got another obsessive stalker on our hands. He's probably super clingy too when he finally picks his balls up from the floor to sniggety snatch you into his fortress. AKA, his room or the Isle of Woe. Probably has a pair of your underwear to jerk off into.

Scale: Idia, since his family is at least as rich as Kalim's, is standing at a solid 8.5/10 if only for the fact that he can make you disappear without a trace.

Whether he would kill: He tried to reset the entire damn world. Can he kill? Bitch, he can fucking genocide.

Whether he would share: It's just gonna be you and his cosplay fetishes for the rest of your life.

How much freedom you are allowed: He's like a touch-starved rabid dog, you ain't got a chance to so much as breathe alone.

Habits: Dude has a whole ass closet of all the skanky cosplays he's gonna put you in LMFAO.

Escape attempt (successful): "NOOOOOO! I WON'T LET YOU LEAVE ME!" Red flames surrounded him, a burst of fury in physical form. "I'LL FIND YOU! THERE'S NOT A DAMN PLACE IN THE WORLD WHERE YOU CAN HIDE IN THAT S.T.Y.X WON'T REACH!"

Escape attempt (fail): "P-Prefect, why are you trying to leave? I can get you anything you want or if you want to go places, I can just have a replica set up here! There's no reason to l-leave! Besides, I already have our entire future planned out! I got rid of those lame ass side characters just for you!"

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DIASOMNIA

🐉🐉🐉

Name: Malleus Draconia

Class: 3-D

Type: Obviously possessive as all FUCK because he's a dragon fae prince guy dude. Yes, I typed that on purpose.

Scale: 10/10 and I swear if I have to explain why, I'm gonna burst a blood vessel.

Whether he would kill: No shit, Sherlock. Hell, he'd probably burn the world down just to see you smile.

Whether he would share: You look at someone: they instantly die. They look at you: they instantly die. You sneeze in someone's general direction: they die. That sums up how very generous Tsunotarou is.

How much freedom you are allowed: What's freedom? Never heard of this bitch :D

Habits: Dunno, he probably has a marking kink or a bondage kink or something. I feel like he just needs to have you close by, or lightning will strike the nearest child.

Escape attempt (successful): "FIND THEM BEFORE I DISEMBOWL YOU ALL!" A very furious prince was causing a hurricane with just his anger, making it difficult for you to run. Lightning struck too close for comfort before the wind was knocked out of you as you were thrown back by the blast. "Child of man, hear me speak; should you decide to keep this foolishness up, I will have no choice but to strike you down. You are mine!"

Escape attempt (fail): You ran through a forest, successfully leaving the castle somehow. Then, a crushing pressure surrounded you, making it hard for you to breathe, and you soon realized that it was because you were trapped underneath the talons of a smoking dragon. "You are coming back now and will never leave my sight again. Should you attempt this once more, I will set fire to the entirety of Sage Island."

🦇🦇🦇

Name: Lilia Vanrouge

Class: 3-E

Type: Impulsive, a little sadistic, and definitely obsessed with you. (I am too, you look fine as hell, dear readers-)

Scale: Although it would depend on his whims, the number's aren't too flexible. 8-9/10.

Whether he would kill: Bro's gone to war and back, why the everloving fuck are you asking that? Of course pookie will kill for you!

Whether he would share: Solid nope.

How much freedom you are allowed: Like Rook, he lives for the chase. He's probably let you be free (when he's not clinging to your side) just to mock you, then snatch you right up when you're expecting it the least.

Habits: Scaring you, probably likes tying you up as well, DEFINITELY bites your neck, might brand you-

Escape attempt (successful): "Khee hee! What fun, this game! I haven't felt this young in centuries! I wonder what kind of expression you'll make this time when I find you? Perhaps you'll start crying? Or try to fight me again? Maybe I'll let you run a little longer, just for the fun of it."

Escape attempt (fail): "Pfft- ahahahaha! The way you screamed when I grabbed you is so delightful!" Almost comically strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. "I have a new toy for you to try. I'm sure you'll enjoy this as much as I do this time."

⚔️💤⚔️

Name: Silver

Class: 2-A

Type: Lowkey would be delusional. I mean, hear me out. He saw you "once upon a dream" or some shit like that and now believes you're his soulmate pookie bear.

Scale: Silver has been training his entire life, so he's actually pretty strong, but like- he falls asleep and you can just like, leave. I mean, he'll just find you again or stalk you in your dreams until you go crazy and come back to him, but you get it. 5/10. He won't hurt you, at least.

Whether he would kill: I feel like he could, but he won't.

Whether he would share: I'm not sure, actually. I feel like no, he wouldn't.

How much freedom you are allowed: Depends. Maybe he'll ask Lilia to keep an eye on you.

Habits: BIG DEATH CUDDLER. Will NOT let go at night.

Escape attempt (successful): "Beloved? Where have you gone? Father, my beloved has fled! Please see if you can track them down while I check nearby! I'll be in the stables preparing my horse if you hear anything sooner than my departure!"

Escape attempt (fail): You hadn't slept in days and were on the verge of collapse. You feared that you would dream of your current location, so you refused to sleep. Your legs gave out from underneath you as you treaded along in the vast forests of Briar Valley and your vision blackened. Before you completely surrendered your consciousness, you saw familiar eyes and silver hair stand before you. "Father was right. There would be no struggle if I waited until you had exhausted yourself."

⚡💚⚡

Name: Sebek Zigvolt

Class: 1-D

Type: Overprotective. Listen, having Sebek as a yandere means that you're now his Malleus. Except that unlike Malleus, who can just teleport away, you're never gonna be able to shake this son of a bitch off.

Scale: 7/10. He would NEVER hurt you, but you are gonna have one hell of a time trying to go anywhere alone. He won't stop you from going places since he's basically licking your boots, but he would draw his sword in a heartbeat against any 'threats'. cough- your friends -cough.

Whether he would kill: Honestly, if you told him to kill someone, he would. If you didn't? Unlikely he would go that far on his own.

Whether he would share: No, just... no. Not even with Malleus.

How much freedom you are allowed: He'd guard you while you were in the bathroom, shitting, FROM THE INSIDE. Freedom my ass.

Habits: Bowing to you, kissing the back of your hand, he'd definitely be much 'softer' with you.

Escape attempt (successful): "DAMMIT! MY LIEGE, YOU MUSTN'T LEAVE WITHOUT ME!" Sebek, furious, was heading to the doghouse to get his hounds to track your scent. There were FAR too many dangers for you to go alone. A sudden thought formed. "My liege... must have been taken! I'll bring you back, don't worry!"

Escape attempt (fail): "HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU?! I- yes, I'll lower my voice... but I simply can not follow through with this order! Apologies, but I fear you are not in the right state of mind to ask me to stay home! I'm afraid I will have to detain you in your room until you come to your senses."

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #octavinelle #pomefiore #ignihyde #diasomnia #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader

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meanbossart · 8 hours ago

Note

Curious about your interpretation of Cazador's old master Vellioth

My partner has a comic called DE RERUM NATURA about Cazador's origins and Vellioth's eventual death. I assign to his personal canon and love his take on Vellioth's design as a gigantic human man ala Doré's Bluebeard, as well as the really rough dynamic he thought up between them.

To give a really quick summary: Vellioth is turned by Cazador's mother, who naturally mistreated him in all-too-familiar ways until Vellioth eventually killed her, became a full fledged vampire himself, and turned her son into a spawn and kept him around specifically to spite her memory. Making a mockery out of Cazador's entire existence while telling the world that he was his sole, charitable caretaker; and Cazador a simple dullard in need of constant supervision since his mother's passing.

As DRN kind of implies, while Cazador's hatred towards Vellioth requires no justification and his ascension to power is definitely a practical priority, he does do it first and foremost because he is moved by the death of his mother. I really, really like this, as it clears the way for Cazador's future obsession with the concept of family - as well as holding the thread far into the past for this cycle of abuse in the hands of authority figures and relatives, since Vellioth very much occupied a "step dad" sort of role in his life for so long.

Like... Slight pivot, but I am so much less interested in endless torture and physical humiliation than I am in the gut-churning dread of a man who has to look into the face of another, for hundreds of years, with the visceral knowledge that he devoured his mother piece by piece like a roasted porkloin - a dehumanization so speakable, and yet so simple. Yes, all of the spawn in every generation suffered, but I don't think anything they went through is worse than the mind-games and the severance of their lives from community, love, and family - and I think that this version of Vellioth & Cazador story illustrates that really well.

#ask #cazador szarr #vellioth the martinet

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2chopsticks2eyes · 5 months ago

Text

Numb

(Part Two)

This is part two of a multiple part series, please be sure to start from part one!

(Part One) | (Part Two)

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Fem Reader

Themes: Angst, (Smut), (Fluff)

Word Count (all parts): ~21.8k | AO3

Summary: You were penniless and working tirelessly at a seedy club when you were assaulted. As soon as you resigned yourself to your fate, Lee Minho saved you, albeit grudgingly. You received treatment and you didn’t have to pay them a dime under one condition: You must be confined to his home for the remainder of your recovery.

Author’s Note:

***IMPORTANT!!!*** THIS STORY IS FILLED WITH TRIGGER WARNINGS. THIS SECOND PART DOES NOT CONTAIN THOSE TRIGGERS, BUT IT IS IMPLIED AND REFERENCED. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ TAGS AND WARNINGS AT BEGINNING OF PART ONE BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The overall plot line was based off a recommendation from @linoots from Tumblr (I received permission from them to write this type of content)

(I’ve missed you all dearly. So sorry it’s taken so long 🥺)

__________________________________________

You silently watched as the doctor removed the IV that had been pumping fluids into your body for the past 48 hours and you rubbed the uncomfortable bandage he replaced it with.

You refused to make eye contact with him. In fact, you did not look or talk to anybody since you woke up in that same home-hospital room you had grown accustomed to. Not Chris, not Felix, and definitely not Minho.

You were a shell of your former self and you didn’t know if you were upset or relieved that you were revived. You didn’t know what to make of it. But now, there was one emotion you knew that burned brighter than your numbness.

Anger.

You couldn’t quite believe Felix’s words when he said that Minho was the one who came to your rescue… again…

But that was preposterous. The bastard probably told the younger man to say that to make himself look better… Whatever, fuck it all.

You allowed yourself to be led back to your room to get some rest. However, when Felix left and Minho walked in, you fortified your walls even further. You felt your face turn sour with each passing moment without even looking at the man and you rolled over in bed so your back was facing him.

There was a long pause of silence that seemed to drag on for hours.

You finally heard a long sigh and then the sound of him plopping down into the chair by your bed. “You know…” He started, and you squeezed your eyes shut. “There’s a reason I bothered to do all of this...”

You tried your hardest to ignore him, but you couldn’t control the fact that his words piqued your interest, your ears already tuned-in to his velvety voice.

“Not just this time, but… the reason I brought you here in the first place.” After a moment of silence, he realized you weren’t going to respond, so he huffed in frustration. “Forget it.”

You suddenly heard the door open and you peered over your shoulder. Without turning to face you, he blankly said, “You are now required to have 24/7 supervision, congratulations.”

And with that, the man walked out while Felix walked in, a meek smile on his face and hands full with baked goods.

“In the mood for cookies?” You sighed and just returned to your side as you balled up in a mess of frustration and confusion under the covers, mind still tingling with the thought of what Minho was going to say.

__________________________________________

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter, Felix. I’m a grown woman.”

Felix just huffed, obviously sick and tired of your complaints. “You know why it’s this way, sweetie. Don’t blame me for doing my job.”

The topic was a constant now. He was obviously there for your physical therapy, but he was also everywhere else. You loved the man, you did, but there is only so much time you could stand without a little alone time!

You wanted to watch TV? He was there. You wanted to nap? He was there. You couldn’t even go to the bathroom without having to leave the door open so he ‘has access to you at all times’. Thank god he stayed outside while you did your business…

After a week of this bullshit, you decided to do something about it…

Throughout your exploration of the house, you found some rooms with names on them. Evidently the ones that Minho once said were strictly prohibited. A couple of the rooms had names you were completely unfamiliar with, but others, you remembered well. Chan, Felix, Jisung, Seungmin, Jeongin, and finally some large double-doors with the initials L.M.

Lee Minho.

The man had supposedly been ‘out on business’ the entire week, but you knew for sure he had come back today with all of the ruckus of the house staff.

So, when you were positive that Felix had finally passed out on the sofa in your room for the night, you, as quietly as humanly possible, snuck out of the room and tip-toed down the hallway and downstairs to the doors you knew by heart now.

The room was surprisingly extremely secluded and you thanked the heavens because you knew for sure you wouldn’t be able to keep cool once he was in sight. You were fully prepared to bang your fist all the way through Minho’s door to meet the man himself if that’s what it took, but as you raised your fist to knock, the door suddenly opened.

Well… shit…

You really didn’t want to admit it, you really didn’t, but… the sight before you was absolutely, without a doubt, mouth watering. He looked just as surprised as you, but you found yourself focused on something other than his face for once…

The man was completely shirtless, pajama pants riding low on his hips and revealing the prominent V of his abdomen. Speaking of abdomen, the dude was of course ripped. Well, maybe not Dr. Chris (Or Christopher, or Chan, or what the fuck ever you want to call him) kind of ripped, but enough to make your eyes bulge out and glue themselves to every inch of impeccably toned abs and pecs.

And another thing that stood out in particular was the sleeve of tattoos twisting and swirling around the upper half of his right arm. You had only seen him in button-ups thus far and, even if he rolled up his sleeves, you somehow hadn’t ever noticed it. You were usually hyper-focused on his face, but at that moment, all you could see was the vast amount of skin on display.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“What are you doing here?” His stern words snapped you back to reality and you had to rapidly blink to regain a semblance of consciousness.

What am I doing? You shivered and grimaced at yourself for your intrusive thoughts before meeting his eyes.

“Uh-uhh I–” You halted your words when you noticed he was clutching something on his side. Curiosity got the better of you and you peered around his towering frame to see a soiled and basically useless bandage dripping with blood. “Holy shit! Are you alright?!” You said stepping towards him instinctively, catching yourself once he tensed and stepped back, correcting his posture as if to defend himself.

Psh, what could you possibly do to him? You couldn’t even defend yourself…

He glanced at the cloth he was currently pressing to his side and made a disgruntled noise. “I’m fine.” He said with a curt and slightly annoyed huff. “Why don’t you have anyone watching you right now?” He grumbled, obviously frustrated as he looked around behind you in search of your babysitter.

You furrowed your brows, still peeved but also worried about the still-bleeding wound on his side. “I had to sneak away because I don’t necessarily appreciate being babysat like a fucking child! Now you need to refresh that bandage before it gets infected!” You borderline shouted.

You could almost feel the daggers he shot at you with his eyes pierce through your flesh. “I said I’m fine! Now go back to be– Hey!”

You cut his sentence off short when you saw a first aid kit that looked like it had been through war and back on a small table behind him before you marched your way in, not giving two flying fucks that you were invading his room. “Get your ass in here, we need to clean you up first.” You demanded, collecting the kit and marching into what looked like the ensuite, completely ignoring his protests.

Jesus, is this much luxury even necessary? You thought as you passed through his behemoth of a room. Gray, white, and covered in smooth marble and chandeliers, it housed all of the amenities to be considered its own wing of the house. The gray material of the sofa and bed looked so soft and luxurious you were tempted to walk over and run your fingers along them. But that would have to wait.

He slammed his bedroom door shut with a huff and turned around. “You can’t just–!” You ignored him as you strolled into the bathroom (Still unnecessarily gorgeous).

“Just get your ass in here and sit!” You shouted from the bathroom. When you saw him stop in the doorway and glare at you, you just proceeded to open the first-aid kit and then pointed at the black and white marble countertop next to the sink. “Sit.”

He rolled his eyes before squeezing them shut and breathing out a slow sigh. “You… You’re a pain in my ass.” He groaned before dragging his feet over to you and hopping up to sit on the counter like you asked. If you hadn’t been right in front of him, you would have almost missed the slight hiss of pain he breathed through clenched teeth.

Why you had felt a pang of sympathy for the man, you had no clue.

He watched you apprehensively as you washed your hands and moved to face him. A brief moment of awkward silence had permeated the air before you tentatively raised your hands to remove the soiled bandage.

Minho visibly stiffened, but he made no move to stop you as your shaky fingers slowly peeled back the gauze.

Holy shit. That was 100% unmistakably a bullet wound.

Your mind was automatically transported back to that first night where you witnessed this guy casually gun down those men, effectively splattering five different brains on the fresh snow without even batting an eyelash. Who the fuck is Lee Minho? And what all was he capable of?

“If you’re going to just stand there and stare, then kindly leave me the fuck alone.” His gruff voice made you jump slightly as you were pulled from your thoughts.

You cleared your throat as you proceeded to throw away the red-stained dressing. You avoided his eyes as you grabbed the saline solution and a towel, still feeling his eyes bore into you with every movement.

However, you froze as you held the saline up to the mangled skin. “U-um… Did you take out—?”

“Yes, I already removed the bullet. Get on with it.”

Your stomach churned at his affirmation of the cause of injury, but you were getting sick and tired of his assholery as you glared up at his blackened eyes. “You know, a little gratitude goes a long way, shithead.”

He seemed stunned for a moment, looking at you as if you had gone crazy before returning to his deadly glower. “Look here, Tinkerbell—“ You bristled at that stupid-ass name again… “YOU’RE the one that barged in here. YOU’RE the one who has been a pain in my ass ever since you got here. So, no, I won’t give ‘gratitude’ where it’s not deserved. Plus, you’re the one to talk…” He murmured the last bit, but you still clearly heard him.

“Then why bother saving me in the first place?!” You basically screamed at him.

Silence and a shocked disposition was all you got in return.

“I had nothing to live for anyway, so why bother?! You could have just as easily ignored what was happening and went on your merry fucking way. Could have left me behind that dumpster to freeze and bleed to death so you wouldn’t have to deal with this ‘pain in the ass’. Could have also left me alone to OD and suffocate on my own vomit the other day. So what gives?” You finished with a seething remark while gesturing to yourself.

His face was stark blank. “You want to know why I saved you?” He said through gritted teeth. You just responded with a curt nod. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration before his expression morphed into something more solemn. It seemed like he was having an internal battle before he began to speak. He finally sighed and leaned his head back against the wall mirror with closed eyes. “I once… I had a cousin, one that was very close to me. I would always be overbearing and protective and she would always tell me to stop babying her.”

He chuckled fondly as he reminisced and you found yourself latching onto his every word. You chalked it up to the fact that you were finally learning something about this enigmatic man and this whole fucked up situation.

“Anyway, as we got older and I got busier, I began giving her more space. She was becoming a woman and I accepted the fact that she could begin to take care of herself.” He paused, but considering the faintest waver in his voice and his dry swallow, it didn’t sound like it was because he was waiting for a response… “I thought she was safe… but there were… others… vile pigs that knew how close she was to me…”

Another beat of silence and you watched his face slowly morph from sorrow to unbridled rage.

“I found her in almost the exact way I found you…” His words felt like a punch to the gut and painful images flooded your mind as you swallowed the bile that rose to your chest. “But, in her case, the scum that had… done that to her had already fled and I… I couldn’t save—” He squeezed his eyes tighter and his jaw clenched hard around the emotions before they could spill out.

You both knew he didn’t need to finish that sentence.

You felt the numbness that had taken over your soul begin to crack once again at the feeling of sympathy towards his cousin, and that shit scared you like none other.

“So, yeah. You might be a raging bitch and I might be a pretentious motherfucker. But even so, I couldn’t just leave you… I just couldn’t…” You felt something churn in your gut and you furrowed your brows in frustration as to what it was. You watched him take a deep breath and sit up a bit straighter. “So, with that being said, I can’t just allow you to throw away everything you’ve worked for so far.”

As if indicating that he had enough of the back-and-forth, he attempted to grab the saline bottle from your hand, only to be met with adamant resistance. You gently pushed his hand away (thankfully without any struggle) and brought the saline and towel up to his ever-bleeding wound that was dripping down to the puddle it created, causing a concerning amount of deep crimson to flood the marble countertop.

You silently flushed the deep cavern with the solution until you deemed it was properly cleaned before moving on to the peroxide. “This might sting a bit…” You warned as you watched his jaw clench. He closed his eyes as you disinfected it and you wondered how he could keep so cool after having a bullet plunged into his side.

Once he was properly cleaned and covered in antibiotic ointment, you picked up the gauze and searched for some tape. Your eyes widened as he wordlessly moved to hand you a long compression wrap.

You emitted a noise that sounded somewhat like a sputtering engine and your face flushed as you saw his suppressed smirk. To wrap that thing around him, you would have to run your hands all over his muscled torso… fuck.

“Something the matter?” He lilted in that nonchalant, annoying timbre. Teasing. “If you don–”

“It’s fine!” You cut him off, maybe a bit too loudly as you refused to make eye contact. “It’s just… just… don’t you have any dressing tape?” You said as you coincidentally eyed his well-defined pecs and abs.

He shrugged. “Nope. Not with me anyway. I just have this—“ He said while waving the fabric in front of your face again with a challenging brow lifted.

You nervously chuckled and squeaked out, “O-okay… Stand up…” You instantly felt goosebumps rise all over your flesh as he hopped off the counter, keeping the gauze pressed to his wound, and stepped a bit too close for a man you barely even knew. Deep breaths, you can do this…

“Hey…” You slowly raised your eyes to meet his own at the sound of the softer change in his tone. He took the tiniest step back to make it easier for him to look you in the eyes. “If you're uncomfortable… I mean… I’m not…” You don’t think you had ever seen him struggle so much with his words. He sighed and closed his eyes before sadly looking at you again. “You have nothing to be afraid of with me… I wouldn’t even think of…” He huffed and shook his head in disgust as he seemed to be thinking of the exact same thing that had plagued you day and night since arriving here.

Before he could even drive his point home, you gently laid your hand on his shoulder, causing his gaze to return to you. “I know…” You replied. “You hardly scare me, Lee Minho.” You teased with a wry smile that even surprised you.

His disturbed face was slowly replaced with a pleasantly surprised grin similar to your own. You watched with feigned mockery as he raised the wrapping once again. “Then prove it, Tink.” You just scoffed and rolled your eyes at the shortened version of his unrelenting name for you and snatched the elastic cloth from his hand.

“Fine.” You huffed defiantly before looking at his abdomen once again. You tentatively pressed the end of the wrap against his heated skin that made you blush. You could feel him watching you and you suddenly felt like hiding.

You wrapped the bandage over several times, feeling yourself tense up every time you touched his bare skin, and secured it tightly once you were finished. “O—“ Your voice cracked when you tried to speak and your face heated as you cleared your throat. “Okay, you’re finished…”

You wouldn’t look him in the eyes, how could you after you basically forced him to let you run your hands all over his tan, muscular, and absolutely gorgeous skin?

“W—“ He hesitated and, despite yourself, you found your eyes instinctively seeking his own out to somehow read the words through his dark irises. You found he was searching your eyes as well with pursed lips before he looked away and cleared his throat as well. “Thank you.”

Huh?

“Channie-hyung wasn’t available when I returned home so I tried to take care of it myself. I guess my half-assed effort didn’t do much, huh?” He chuckled and looked back at you with a meek smile.

Who the fuck is this man and where did Lee Minho go?

He nervously chuckled and you realized you’d been staring at the man far too long. You took a deep breath and stepped back. “Well, I kind of owed it to you now, didn’t I?” You said it lightheartedly, but he furrowed his brows.

“You don’t ever have to owe me anything.”

You arched a brow, but he just turned and began packing away the first aid kit again. You watched his back, trying to remember why you came to his room in the first place. “Minho?”

He stilled his movements.

“What do you even do?” He turned and arched a brow at you and you rolled your eyes, stepping forward next to him to lean against the counter. “Like, you are obviously loaded…” You said gesturing to your luxurious surroundings. “You have a full staff with a doctor to patch up nasty bullet holes like this and god knows what else…” You both looked at his bandage. “And not to mention the bullets you cleared through those guys’ heads without even blinking an eye that night…”

He bit his lip and you followed the action with your eyes. You instinctively wet your own lips. After he was done staring at the marble countertop for an unnecessarily lengthy amount of time, he hesitantly turned his body to face you.

“You could say I sort of run something like a… secret organization?” He said tentatively like it was a question unto himself and you furrowed your brows.

You squinted skeptically at him. “So… you're telling me—“ Is that worry on his face? “—that you're a secret agent? Like a spy?” You looked at him in disbelief.

He sputtered a restrained laugh and looked at you with a suppressed smile. “I suppose you could say I’m like a spy.”

“LIKE a spy?”

He looked up like he was deliberating. “Sure. Like a spy.”

“But not actually a spy?”

He groaned at your questioning and ran a hand through his messy hair. Come to think of it, this is the most dressed-down look you’d seen on him. Gone were the button-ups and slacks, now replaced by sweats and a compression wrap over his shirtless body.

He stood straight and crossed his arms, obviously ready for the conversation to be over. “Does it matter? Look, it’s already really late and Yongbok will panic if he realizes you ran off.”

Oh shit, that’s right. That’s the whole reason you were even there. In Minho’s bathroom. Standing closely to him. With the man half naked and you in your flimsy, silk nightwear. Your peaked nipples seemed suddenly way more apparent as you crossed your arms over your chest. You rapidly blinked as if suddenly waking up and quickly stepped back.

“I-I wanted to ask you something…” He arched his brow and you continued. “Can you please call off the reinforcements? I know I made a bad decision and all, but I will honestly go crazy if I have to use the bathroom with the door open one more time.” You found yourself begging rather than demanding like you had initially intended.

Why, though?

He looked hesitant and you quickly added, “I don’t even mean all of the time! Like, I’ll keep my bedroom door open so he can check up on me and he can even watch me secretly while I’m around the house, I just want at least a little sense of privacy!”

You knew you sounded like a pathetic child, but you had resigned yourself to that fate as soon as you had to take a massive, violent shit earlier that day and you knew Felix had heard everything from the other room. Without any doors to create that sweet, sweet sound barrier? Ugh… You were still mortified to look at him.

You silently watched him with imploring eyes as he tiredly rubbed his brow. “You…” You widened your eyes with a hopeful energy pulsing through them, hoping to portray as such as he looked into your pleading eyes. He sighed. “I suppose those terms are fair…” You lit up like a Christmas tree before he raised a finger. “BUT, if you are EVER alone ANYWHERE, you need to let him know where you are and give him regular updates on your whereabouts to let him know if you are okay. Okay?”

You vehemently nodded your head and perked up. “Thank GOD!”

He smirked and crossed his arms again. “I think I like you calling me a god. Have I upgraded from a narcissistic asshole?” He tilted his head with raised brows and you were, once again, reminded how gorgeous this man really was.

You rolled your eyes and went to shove his shoulder, but before you could even touch him, he grabbed your wrist in the blink of an eye. For some reason, you both looked surprised as he froze with your wrist in his hand from less than a foot away. Your heart was racing and you chalked it up to being from fear of someone grabbing you.

But why did that conclusion not feel quite right…?

Before you could ponder it, he dropped your arm and quickly stepped away. “Fuck. I-I’m sorry.” He shook his head and you watched worry swirl in his eyes.

No…

No, you weren’t afraid of this man. You don’t know why, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you intentionally. Even after everything… “It was just instinct! I swear! I would never intend to—“

“I know, Minho.” You cut off his panicking, but his brows gave away his lingering concern. “I guess I’m just going to have to take your word for it on the whole spy thing, though, because those were super fast reflexes.” You chuckled to ease the tension and his face softened slightly.

It was silent for a moment and he cleared his throat again. “Well, I should walk you back to your room, it’s late and I’ve had… a very long few days.”

You took a large breath and promptly left the bathroom. “I’m perfectly fine on my own, you know?” There’s that twinge of irritation again…

”I know, I know. But if Yongbok is awake, I want to be able to ease his worries and update him on his role in taking care of you.

Taking care of…

Not treating, not monitoring. Taking care of. You supposed that’s what they were doing, huh? Felix was, in fact, doing much more than treating or monitoring. He waited on you hand and foot and you were being a bitch about it. You made a promise to yourself right then and there to let him know as soon as possible how much you appreciated his care and apologize for your behavior.

You nodded, both to yourself and to Minho’s reasoning before making your way back to your room with the mysterious and intriguing man just a few steps behind you.

__________________________________________

Felix was a saint. Not only did he forgive you when you apologized, but he went as far to say it was his fault for being overbearing. Which was obviously preposterous.

With your new parameters in effect, Felix decided to leave the estate shortly, before quickly returning with gifts for you. Among them were several jigsaw puzzles and you perked up at the sight of them. Over time, you had come to really appreciate those puzzles. So much so that you had already finished all of the ones currently at the estate, strangely enough. All kinds of different collections displayed on random tables throughout the mansion.

Felix was true to his word and gave you your space, only briefly giving you regular check-ups as you sat in one of the many living rooms that giant freaking place held and began the therapeutic work of putting together an adorable puzzle of a litter of kittens.

You would love to have cats…

When a sudden ruckus erupted down the hall, you furrowed your brows and looked behind you to the source. Down the corridor you saw the same seven men that you had seen regularly around the house (obviously minus Felix) dressed in what looked like active-wear gathering around the front entryway.

The men never approached you, but that was most likely because you tried to make yourself scarce once you saw one of them. Maybe Dr. Chris, Felix, and Minho you trusted, but you didn’t know those other men and it made you sick to your stomach thinking of being alone with a stranger without one of those three men accompanying you.

”Okay, guys, this is just routine training today, so no fire hazards, alright Hyunjin?” You heard Minho announce to the group.

Training? Like their super-secret-spy type training?

You felt yourself stand and march over to them without even formulating what you were doing. Who needs rational thought anyway?

If you were remembering correctly, the one named Jeongin spotted you first with a look of surprise. “Come. On. Hyuuung. We need to be prepared for anyth—“ Jeongin harshly elbowed the one who you assumed was Hyunjin and quickly spoke up.

’Hy-Mr. Lee, sir. I think someone is here for you…” He nodded a bow to you and you returned it, giving a meek smile to the group before meeting Minho’s gaze.

He looked slightly surprised before giving you… was that a smile? No, surely not…

You cleared your throat as Felix made his way over with hurried steps and a worried expression. You, then, glanced over at the other men who had become quiet as death upon you stepping up next to Minho. You scanned over them before slightly bowing. “Um… Good morning…” You introduced yourself before hearing a small ‘oh’ from the man beside you. You turned your head as he stepped forward and turned to face you again.

”I guess I haven’t really introduced them all to you yet… These are my… This is my inner circle.” He hesitated and turned to gesture to each of them. “Some I’m sure you already know. Like Channie-Hyung, Yongbok, and Jisung.” The three nodded politely with soft smiles. “But to formally introduce you to the others, this is Changbin…” The shorter, muscular man offered a shy smile. “Hyunjin…” Your eyebrows raise at the incredibly handsome man as his full lips formed a smile as well. “Seungmin…”

”Nice to formally meet you.” He said with an amused grin and you nervously chuckled as you informed him likewise.

”Then there’s our maknae, Jeonginnie.” Hyunjin cooed at the youngest when he also gave a shy smile and he received a death-glare in return.

All of the men remained incredibly polite, bowing their heads when introduced and maintaining their distance. Shit, they probably already know everything about you and your situation… especially considering the fact that no one asked you who you were or why you were there.

You guessed you understood and you were actually somewhat grateful. It saved you from having to explain it yourself and relive all of the pain again…

”It’s very nice to meet you all.” You gave the men a polite smile before turning to Minho again. You were on a mission. “Minho, can I please come train with you guys?”

You could hear a pin drop with how silent the room got. “You… you want to train?” You gave a determined nod before slumping your shoulders at his shake of the head. “No. No way.”

“What?! Why?!”

”Um, I think it’s best we head out first. We will meet you there sir.” The youngest quickly relayed before walking out the front door with the other men in tow, Felix quickly retreating to some other corner of the estate.

After watching the mass leave, you fixed your glare on Minho’s resolute expression. “Not only are you not employed by me, but you also have an injured arm—“

”It could be good therapy for me! And I can even raise it horizontally now!” You demonstrated the movement with gritted teeth, trying to hide the pain, and he responded with an unimpressed visage.

“You are already receiving therapy and you would just be a liability. So, no. End of discussion.”

A liability? Ouch.

You felt anger rise up in you and you took a step near him, his features remaining stone-cold. “You… You’re a… ugh!” You couldn’t even muster up the will to call him an asshole anymore. What the fuck was WRONG with you?

With the lack of anything better to say, you furiously stomped away up to your bedroom to fume in private, but not without flipping him off the entire way there.

__________________________________________

“Knock knock, love.” Felix announced before stepping through your open doorway. It hadn’t been long since you petulantly curled up on the plush armchair by your window to angrily watch the rain outside.

Of course it would rain. Apparently fate had decided to mock you as if you were an actress in some sort of sad music video. Surely Felix would agree.

You watched with hesitancy as he held out his hand to you. “Follow me.” He said calmly with a smile. “I want to show you a new room.” You perked up at that notion. You had been running out of places to explore recently and the prospect of seeing something new was like a kid going to a playground.

You took his hand and allowed him to lead you to one of the many locked double-doors on the estate. What you saw made you gasp in awe. Bookshelves upon bookshelves lined the walls of a massive, two-storied library that was stocked to max capacity with what looked like brand new books as well as older than hell pieces of literature. All surrounding a cozy living area with couches, armchairs, and even a fireplace.

”Minho-hyung must really trust you to let me show you this. These books mean a great deal to him and many of them are extremely fragile as well.” He trusts me? You thought as you watched Felix’s eyes widen. “I-I mean Mr. Lee…”

You furrowed your brows and turned to him. “Why do you do that?” You asked and he just blinked at you with worry written on his features.

”D-do what?”

Playing dumb, are we? “That! Those other guys do it too! Why don’t you just call him Hyung? You all are obviously close. Why try to hide it?”

Felix nervously rubbed the side of his neck and looked down. “It’s not like we are trying to hide it, necessarily. We are just trained to remain professional. It’s just much harder when we are all home and much more relaxed.”

You nodded your head in understanding. “But why do you try to hide it with me? I’m not exactly here on business.” You arched your brow and he smiled sweetly.

”It…” He seemed hesitant to speak until he sighed and lowered his head. “If we keep things professional with you, it might be easier when we have to see you go…” You were taken aback. Easier? Is he saying they would miss you? Why? You were a nobody, and you were honestly kind of a bitch. No, that can’t be it.

”What do you mean by easier?”

He seemed confused by your question. “When you spend so much time with someone, it’s easy to get attached. Even the coldest heart can find warmth in someone they find trustworthy and important.”

Trustworthy? Important? You? What in the world did you do to earn those titles?

Felix must have read the disbelief on your face because he continued. “You and I have spent a lot of time together over the past months. I’ve learned a lot about you and your habits.” You blushed. He most definitely knows a lot about you. He’s seen a lot too. “I know you are a good person. I have an eye for these things.”

He winked at you and you huffed a chuckle.

“And Minho-hyung knows you are a good person too. He just has a different way of… expressing his feelings.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “No, it’s true! We discuss you and your progress often and the kind of leniency he gives you in this place is unheard of for anyone other than our circle. Even some of the house staff haven’t been allowed in some of these rooms you’ve seen.”

What on god’s green earth did you say to them to trust you? I mean, of course they can trust you. You bear no ill will toward any of them, not seriously anyway. But why do they think so? Felix could definitely see the confusion on your face when he gently placed a hand on your upper back and guided you two further into the treasure-trove of books.

“Don’t think about it too much, love. Just know that everything we do, we do out of good and pure intentions.”

You definitely thought about it too much.

__________________________________________

You were determined.

You were going to get out of that damned house, even if just for a minute, whether he liked it or not. By exploring the house, you ended up finding a board room, like true business-official type shit. A long table surrounded by office chairs and even a projector screen. And with a small tip from Felix, you knew they all happened to have a meeting that morning.

An actual business meeting. Not the one including half-naked women this time.

So, after gearing up in some serious workout attire, you marched yourself to that exact room, not even bothering to knock. You were on a mission. ”Lee Minho, I demand to be included in your training. I won’t take no for an answer!”

His were the first eyes you seeked out when you entered the room and you willed yourself to not back down.

You, then, remembered the presence of the other seven men in the room and how silent everyone had become. It was as if they thought, if they move even slightly, all hell would break loose. And by looking at Minho’s facial expression, they might have good reason to think as such.

”I. Said. NO. Now please see your way out. As you can see, we are clearly busy.” You were pissed, no, more than pissed, but you squared your shoulders.

However, before you could utter a word, Jisung spoke up. “Hyung. I think we should let her. She is obviously passionate about it.” Minho glared at his friend and then back at you. He was silent for a moment, as if he was deliberating, before speaking again.

”No.”

”FUCKING HELL, MAN! I have been sitting on my ass here for months now for a reason I’m sure everyone here already knows about—!“ You watched guilty expressions color the room. “—and now that I’m getting better, you’re not going to help me defend myself if something like that happens again?” You witnessed his eyes widen as a traitorous tear fell down your cheek. “Fuck. You. Lee Minho!”

Resilience be damned, you were itching to escape that suffocating room and the problem within it. You stormed away once more with a harsh slam of the door and a burning fire inside you fueled by hate and anger.

Fuck this.

__________________________________________

You felt a plop on the couch next to you and you jolted in place with a tiny squeak.

After the meeting room fiasco, you had been spending all of your time in the library. You were so immersed in your book that you didn’t even realize there was another presence in the room.

With a quick whip of the head and an incredulous look on your face, you watched Minho smirk next to you in amusement. “For someone who is super quick with their tongue, you sure are slow with everything else.” He chuckled as you came down from your fright and you placed a hand on your rapidly beating heart.

That motherfucker just about killed you! Well, not literally, but still! You closed your eyes to collect yourself before opening them again to glare at him.

However, instead of that same annoying smirk, his face turned into one of regret. “Shit, I’m sorry… I didn’t even think if that would make you… fuck, I didn’t—“

”It’s fine!” You quickly cut him off, knowing where he was going with that statement. “I-I’m fine… you just startled me a bit.” You calmly placed your bookmark before turning back to him with narrowed eyes. He looked a bit more relieved.

”Still, I need to be more… considerate.” He looked down at his hands, avoiding your eyes. “In more ways than one…” You furrowed your brows in suspicion before he returned your gaze once more. “I’ve thought about it a lot and I realized that I haven’t necessarily been easy on you throughout all of this. I might have played a part in helping you physically, but I didn’t consider how this would all affect you mentally.”

You were speechless. Was this the same man? He’s actually being… remorseful…

“So, yeah. Sorry about all that…” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck while averting his eyes. He clearly wasn’t used to apologizing so much. “I, um… I wanted to ask you if we could, like, start over?”

You had never seen the man fumble so much since meeting him and it was quite a refreshing sight. “Why? Are you about to drop another ridiculous rule on me and you’re just saying this to lessen the blow?” You huffed a bitter chuckle.

You could see his temper start to rise before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m saying this…” There was a slight edge to his voice before he opened his eyes again with a much more gentle demeanor. “—because I am tired of us butting heads.” He slumped into the backrest and you arched a brow. “And also because you were right.”

Okay. Something is seriously wrong.

”I thought it would be dangerous for you to train with professionals and be subjected to a room full of random men.” He limply turned his head your way while remaining melted into the cushions. “And yes, there will be other men there. All of my subordinates use this training center. It’s one of my most used gyms for my… industry.”

You scoffed. “Pft. ‘Industry’” You mocked with finger quotations.

He smirked. “Yes. Industry.” His face gradually returned to a more serious disposition. “There is also the matter of secrecy.” You nodded your head. Yeah, that made sense considering his occupation, but who were you going to tell? “Not saying I don’t trust you—“

”Why do you trust me?” You blurted, the question still buzzing around in your mind like an annoying pest. He furrowed his brows as if he didn’t understand. You continued. “Like, yeah, I get why you saved me now and all, but why do you trust ME?”

His brow slightly softened and he cleared his throat. “Y-you have given me no reason not to trust you. Why? Did you do something?” He said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “No, asshole. It’s obvious to me that you should trust me, but you’re just going to take my word for it? You must be a really shitty spy.” He guffawed loudly, sitting up with a bright grin as he seemed like himself again.

”You haven’t seen what I can do, Tinkerbell.” You rolled your eyes, but you did find the notion intriguing.

”Oh yeah? What can you do?” You could see a spark light up in his eyes as he stared into your own and you had to gulp down the saliva that pooled in your mouth from the sight.

”Well…” He shifted to face you, elbow now propped up on the back of the couch. “You’ll get to see some of it when we train you.”

You felt your heart jolt. “When you train me?” You felt the corners of your mouth slowly lifting and his followed right behind.

”We leave at noon. Unless you’ve changed your mind?” He mused.

”No! No, I want to!” You looked at the clock. 11:30. Shit, he couldn’t have told you a little sooner? You sprang to your feet and he stood as well. “Just let me go change and I’ll meet you in the foyer.”

He just gave you a brief nod before turning on his heel and leaving you giddily buzzing in your skin.

__________________________________________

Somehow, you had plenty of options to choose from, but you opted for a simple T-shirt and joggers. Not the cutest, but who were you trying to impress?

A vision of Minho flashed in your mind and you reeled from the thought. Ugh. Why did my head think of HIM? In fact, why were you thinking so much about him in the first place? You chalked it up to it being from interacting more frequently nowadays. Yes. That must be it. You resolutely threw on a hoodie over your shirt and marched your way to the foyer.

“You ready? It won’t be easy.” He said from where he was leaned up against the staircase banister. You took in the sight of his workout attire, not really taking the time to fully appreciate it until now.

He wore a loose pair of sweatpants and an airy tank top that allowed you to gaze at his intricate sleeve of tattoos once more. He would almost look human if he hadn’t been blessed with his other-worldly beauty.

You blinked away the thoughts and gave a firm nod to him in response. “I don’t want easy. I want effective.”

He smirked and stood up straight when you approached. “We’ll see soon how confident you are in that statement.” You glared and he gestured his head. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Instead of heading out the front, he made his way further into the house. You furrowed your brows. “Where are the other guys? And where are you going?”

”Tsk. So many questions!” He mused and grinned at your responding scowl. “The guys are already there and, as to where we are going…” He stepped up to a large door located in the next room and opened the door for you to enter first, your face surely gawking at the luxury. You heard a chuckle from behind you. “Your reactions are always so adorable.” He smoothly teased.

EXCUSE ME?!

You whipped around and glared at him as he just continued walking past you. “Now…” He turned back to face you again. “Which one do you want to take?” He said plainly as he gestured to the plethora of extremely expensive cars.

The garage definitely looked like it belonged in a spy movie, but you were stumped. He said he was like a spy. Not a spy. Like a spy. You were still racking your brain as to what that meant.

Your eyes grazed over the fancy marble interior of the museum-like garage and the cars on display. How can someone have this much disposable income?

You didn’t know the first thing about cars, why did you have to pick?

When you just pointed to some random car, he raised his brows. “Really? The Rolls Royce?”

“Well, shit I dunno! Why do I need to pick? You obviously know more than I do when it comes to this!”

He cackled and led you closer to your chosen car. “Oh, I know waaay more than you, Tink.” You grumbled and he chuckled as he opened the door for you, letting you slide into the disgustingly luxurious vehicle.

”Why do you even have all of these cars? Don’t you have someone else to drive you?” He donned a cocky half-grin when he slipped into the driver seat.

”Sure, when I’m on business I do. But we are just going to train.”

In the blink of an eye, his face was directly in front of yours as he reached across you, eyes fixed on your seatbelt strap as he grasped the material. As soon as he stretched it across your body, he seemed to notice your surprise.

He froze, blinked at you rapidly, then quickly averted his gaze back down to the strap to buckle you in. He cleared his throat and gulped before starting the car. “Plus…” He added with a slightly strained voice. “It’s not nearly as fun riding as it is driving.”

__________________________________________

“Was the bag seriously necessary? Who would I even tell?!” You seethed as you threw the black, silky fabric at him.

Before you two even left the driveway, he forced you to shove your head in a stupid black hood so you “couldn’t know the location” once you left the estate later. You told him that it was unnecessary and stupid, but the man insisted.

You ripped the damned thing off as soon as he put the car in park.

”Have you forgotten what I told you? About my work? Why are you surprised with the secrecy?” He explained calm and composed as he discarded the bag in the car again.

”Well then blindfold me next time! I could barely breathe!” You were over exaggerating, of course. That material was extremely airy and breathable, you just wanted to feel superior to such treatment.

”Well excuse me, your highness…” He rolled his eyes as he pulled out his keys and walked up to the door of a large, nondescript, concrete building. Unlocking and opening the door for you, he gave you an exaggerated bow.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you passed the threshold, and marched into what looked like a massive gym complex of some sort.

However, the entire building was devoid of life. Of course that’s not including the seven familiar figures you saw fighting on the far end of the room. ”I thought you said all of your employees train here?” You said with an arched brow.

Minho passed you with a shrug. “Not today they don’t.” Well that answered nothing…

”Hey there, girly! Ready to get that blood pumping?”

”Calm down, Changbin. She is still going through therapy, remember?” Dr. Chris told the younger muscle man from where he was doing crazy heavy deadlifts off to the side.

”I know, I know, grandpa.” Changbin smirked at the doctor’s glare. “But just remember: ‘What hurts today makes you stronger tomorrow.’”

The other men groaned in tandem and you found yourself slightly smiling. “That’s a great motivational outlook, Changbin.” You said to the group as you watched Changbin’s face light up.

”Okay, enough, enough.” Minho declared. “Today’s training is obviously a bit different than usual.” He gestured vaguely at you. “We have a base level trainee and she needs to be trained from ground zero.” He gave you a side-eye and a cocky smirk. “Maybe even lower than that…”

”Hey!” You made a move to give him a lighthearted shove, and then was immediately reminded of what happened last time as his hand shot to your wrist to stop the action. You tried to free yourself, but his grip was like stone. “Let me go, asshole!”

”Make me.” He said as he suddenly faced you, pulling you closer. “Come on, show me. What would you do if you wanted to be released?”

You didn’t have an answer for him. Any move you could possibly make would be caught by his cat-like reflexes. You just challenged him with your eyes before his own softened, along with his grip on your wrist.

Just as your wrist was released he gave you a couple pats on the head. “Don’t worry Tinkerbell. I’m sure you will figure it out eventually.” You just about growled at him as he walked over to stand by Chris who was now seated on a bench nearby. “Channie-hyung and I are just here to observe and critique ALL of you, so do your best.” The man made an annoyed expression and waved the back of his hand in front of him. “Well? Get on with it!”

With that, you found yourself surrounded by six (frankly gorgeous) men looming over you.

“Hey! Back off! Don’t all go at her at once! I said ground zero you pabos!” Minho shouted from the sidelines before the others retreated and Changbin stepped in front of you.

”Calm down, Minho. This is what I’m here for.” You breathed in a resolute huff and nodded at Changbin. “I’m ready.”

__________________________________________

“Watch out for her arm!”

…

”Don’t actually try to hurt her, idiot!”

…

”That’s too rough!”

…

The entire training session Minho had shouted at each and every one of the men trying to teach me at least once and it was growing tiresome. “Why even let me train if I can’t even, I dunno, actually train???” You grumbled at the stubborn man as the group was taking a break. “I have legitimately learned nothing with the parameters you have set!”

”For real, hyung. You aren’t letting her show her full potential. She needs—“

Minho instantly cut Changbin off. “I will decide what is needed and I think that it would be better for her to just watch for now. It’s obvious that she is not ready.”

”WHA—?” You squealed with widened eyes and a disbelieving expression.

”Actually, I think she is doing quite well in her recovery…” Dr. Chris stated matter-of-factly where he stood next to the other six men drenched in sweat.

You watched Minho slowly turn his murderous expression to the doctor, but you stepped into his line of sight before he had the chance to retaliate. “Please let me continue… I promise I will take it easy, I just…” You looked down at your restless hands before returning your gaze to his blackened irises. “This is just really important to me…”

You watched as the man’s face minutely softened and glanced at the seven men around you that also awaited his instruction.

”Please?” You implored, not used to such pleading from your end. His eyes darted back to you before he moved to rub his temples with a sigh.

“Fine.” He groaned. “But base-line self defense only. We can move on to more advanced training once you have recovered a bit more.”

You don’t know why you felt such relief come over you. Maybe it was the satisfaction of even marginally getting through to him, but you let a wide grin escape as your body involuntarily moved to hug the man.

What the fuck?

Just as quickly as you embraced the man, you retreated just as fast with furiously heated cheeks. Why in the world did you do that? You were FAR from hugging terms with him! He probably just about shot you in the head from the unexpected touch!

However, you couldn’t help but notice the citrus and sandalwood scent emanating from his solid, warm body. His skin felt like flames against yours and you welcomed the heat. It didn’t last long, but the simple contact with him made your blood boil and quickly reddened your entire face.

When you pulled back and cleared your throat, you witnessed a millisecond of bewilderment on his stone-cold face before it was immediately schooled back into place (but that did nothing to cover up his bright red ears). “Th-thank you.” You mumbled before you escaped to the water fountain that was, blessedly, on the other side of the room. Never mind the fact you had a water bottle already with you by the group…

__________________________________________

By the time you and the rest of the boys finished (which was a very productive start if you do say so yourself), Minho had informed he was called in for an unexpected ‘business meeting’ across town and that training would finish early for the day as he needed to take a couple of his men with him.

You were a bit disappointed, but at least you got to do something. Which was more than you expected honestly.

As you requested, you were blindfolded for the car ride back instead of the stifling bag he donned you with on the way there, but you rode back with only five of his men instead.

You could feel all of their eyes on you as you rode in silence. Jeongin drove the unnecessarily expensive limousine, Changbin, and Hyunjin sat across from you, and Felix and Chan bracketed you on each side.

The silence was even more suffocating than the bag you wore earlier as you felt yourself start to become antsy. “For the love of god, please someone say something! I feel like I’m an exhibit in a museum right now.” You whined and buried your face in your hands (even though you couldn’t see anything anyway).

”And what a lovely piece of art you are, darling~” Hyunjin lilted before you heard a slap of skin and an over dramatic squawk from said man.

”Yah! Don’t be a creep!” You heard Changbin exclaim as the precious Felix giggled next to you.

”It was supposed to be a compliment!” You heard someone click their tongue before Chan decided to speak up.

”It’s interesting isn’t it…” He commanded the whole group’s attention with practiced ease and you quickly realized the hidden influence this man had over the lot of them. Which would make sense due to the fact that the doctor had probably saved most of, if not all of their lives at some point in time. “I haven’t seen or heard of Minho ever taking it easy on a trainee before… Most of them have to come see me even after their first session with him.”

”For real though, the man is ruthless with everyone else! He will even push them through the pain of broken bones!” Hyunjin exclaimed incredulously.

”He wants to make sure they are prepared through anything, even excruciating pain.” Jeongin stated simply from the driver’s seat.

Holy shit, these guys are no joke! “What the fuck? Why can’t he do the same with me?!” The entire car went dead silent in response. You could feel the annoyance creep into your bones. “Is it because I’m a girl? Seriously?!”

You heard Felix scoff next to you. “As if.” He sputtered in amusement. “The female trainees are some of the toughest among all of us.”

Then why?

”Maybe he just has a soft spot for you…” You heard Hyunjin mumble and you outright cackled at that one.

”Are you kidding?! Have you seen the way he treats me??” You question with an incredulous chuckle.

“You never knooow~” Hyunjin stated with a teasing lilt to his voice before you heard another smack.

And before another word could be said, your blindfold was removed and you were ushered into the estate once more.

A soft spot? What a joke.

__________________________________________

I hope you guys are happy with the turn-around. 😏

I’ve missed you all so dearly and I apologize for the wait. 🥺 I would say that the next part will come out sooner, but I don’t want to guarantee that if life decides to fuck with me some more. 🙃

As always, please like, follow, and share!

Thanks baby Stays! Love you and missed you guys! 💋😽💋

And of course my squad and tag list:

@lyramundana

@channieandhisgoonsquad

@moonlightndaydreams

@queenmea604

@sweetracha

@rylea08

@maknaeswrld

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

#lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #lee know smut #stray kids fanfics #skz smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #i love my babies #triggers #heavy angst #rape/noncon #tw sui attempt #eventual smut #eventual romance #stray kids minho #depressing shit #please dont hate me #tw ptsd

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magiccath · 7 months ago

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Weirdly specific headcanons Pt. 2 (Tenth Doctor x Reader)

a/n: finals fried my brain again, have some headcanons (new fics coming soon, I promise)

Says stuff like “2+2=5” with such confidence that you almost believe him

Secretly likes it when you and Donna call him “spaceman”

His favorite Earth snack is Goldfish (especially the colored ones)

Insufferable to watch movies with because he corrects everything

Traces words in circular Gallifreyan on your skin, usually on the back of your hand

Things like “I love you” and various nicknames he has for you

Often times when he fixes the TARDIS it doesn’t really need it, he just likes having something to do

Similarly, the TARDIS creates issues so he has to fix them

His love language is quality time, he just wants to be with you

Having you sit in the room while he fixes the TARDIS, showing you every single part of the universe, laying in bed on lazy days, etc

Needs constant reassurance and love

Cuddles too

Might not remember things like your birthday without reminders from the TARDIS

However, he knows exactly how you like your tea, your favorite color, and every single nervous tic you have

900+-year-old toddler

Requires constant supervision or he will cause harm to himself and/or others

Is absolute rubbish at cooking. Something always ends up burnt

Makes a mean cuppa though

He loves all kinds of cuddles but he really likes it when the two of you fall asleep spooning

Big fan of wrapping his entire body around you and tangling his limbs with yours

Also goes crazy for a good hug

Maybe his love language is also touch

He likes sitting on the floor for some reason, especially the TARDIS floor

Sits in chairs really weird too. Practically drapes himself across them with his long limbs sticking out and over the chair.

Has boundless amounts of energy. Is it a Time Lord thing or ADHD? We’ll never know (It’s both)

Knows enough random stuff to win Jepordy, but he would epically fail at it

Would correct every single answer and argue that he was right, not the answer sheet.

“Mount Rainier isn’t a volcano, fire aliens were just living under it.”

Loves ABBA and Queen. Can be often caught singing their songs to himself, especially when getting ready

Has a little troll doll collection in his room, among other strange 90s toys and random objects he likes

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misc-obeyme · 4 months ago

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I've seen like videos and posts on the topic, but I'm curious about your take on it:

How everyone would react to the therapist MC being turned into a child due to like a potion or magical shenanigans

- 🦊

I think it depends on whether or not MC's mental capacity remains the same or if they also think and act like a child.

I mean, it'd be one thing if you had a child MC who just looked like a child, but was still themselves in every other way. They'd probably be trying to fix that, but it might not be as urgent, since MC would still be essentially self sufficient.

But if MC is suddenly acting like a child as well, that's gonna require them to also make sure that MC is okay. I also suppose it depends on what age MC becomes. Like if they're 12, that's concerning but they probably don't need constant supervision. Whereas if they're like five, they probably need someone watching them all the time just to make sure they don't get hurt or something.

I see Lucifer being very protective no matter what. Mammon is the one who gets into baby sitter mode. He comes up with all kinds of fun ways to entertain MC. Satan is the one who babysits both of them. Because SOMEONE has to make sure they're safe! Everybody else is working on how to fix things. Though they probably check in regularly out of concern.

Barbatos is the one who is cooking for MC, too. Because we all know kids can be picky eaters. He always makes extra because Beel eats half of it anyway.

I like the idea that Diavolo would also want to play with MC all the time. I can just see him joining Mammon and MC in the fun. Levi joins if he can distract them with video games. Belphie will also join but like... he's half asleep anyway. If MC is young enough to need naps, they will always nap with Belphie.

I kinda see Simeon being super protective, too. Like might even swoop MC away from the HoL because nobody there can be trusted as far as he's concerned. If MC is around Luke's age, they are inseparable until MC goes back to normal lol.

Solomon locks himself in his lab until he finds the solution to turn MC back.

#I'm sure this is not far off from most takes tbh #but that's how I see it happening #obey me #obey me nightbringer #🦊 anon #misc answers

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toomanythoughts2 · 4 months ago

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Dethklok Agere HCs: Toki Edition

🐰🐝🎸🎮🤡🐱🍭✈️🛼🎹🖍️🍼🍺💉🎁🤠🏎️🔫👯‍♂️🪽🌈🤮

I originally was going to do all of the members together in one post, but I realized after Toki that it was going to be obnoxiously too long for all five. So, I'm splitting them up into each member. Obviously, I had to start with my main man, Toki 🧸!

Everything is below the Keep Reading tab.

Toki

(My son, my pookie bear, my darling, my sunshine, my sweetheart, my Swiss cheese, my BABY!)

🧸 First, I think his age range is pretty narrow but the ages he falls into are drastically different headspace wise. Meaning, I think he can fall between a 2 to a 4, but how he acts as a 2 year old is a lot different than a 4 year old, so it's important to figure out what his headspace is before doing something.

🧸 Toki is a hitter!!! He canonically hits people in the show for attention and even hits Pickles in AOTD in the church. Having Toki show signs of realistic trauma-based regression is just so important to me, it makes me crazy! The boy is not well but he is working on it.

🧸 Speaking of which, Toki requires the most support regressing than any of his bandmates. He needs constant support from either the band (Pickles) or Charles (Listen, he never left in my eyes. THOSE ARE HIS BOYS, HE COULDN'T JUST LEAVE THEM!) Whether this means just babysitting when he's regressed and chilling or actively helping him complete physical or emotional tasks. He needs a lot of support in his regression.

🧸 Out of all the members, Toki's regression is the most recognized as age regression by the general, uneducated public. It's very obvious age regression. I say this because I think some of the other members regression is not recognized as regression at first glance, especially by outsiders. (Of course, within the band, they all know each other well enough to spot the signs.)

🧸 He wants to put everything in his mouth. The remotes all have screws in them now where the batteries are located and Pickles is constantly holding Toki's hands to keep them from grabbing stuff.

🧸 He utilizes supplies in his regression the most out of everyone in Dethklok. I honestly believe that Toki can go anywhere between baby bottles to an open cup (supervised), so his supplies are diverse and plentiful. I personally see him utilizing stuffies, specific clothes for regression, (canon) ear muffs, pacifiers, child friendly cutlery, child friendly arts and crafts, sensory supplies, and so many other odds and ends.

🧸 From what we see in AOTD with Pickles carrying a large duffle bag (alluding that it's for Toki), I do think that Toki uses diapers. HEAR ME OUT! I don't think it's all of the time, but I do think that if Toki regresses far enough, it would become a necessary part for him. (Homie is traumatized.) Pickles just knows what's up and is ready to care and defend his Norwegian baby brother.

🧸 He needs attention ALL OF THE TIME! Even if he doesn't necessarily want someone to be in his space, he still needs to know that they are available for him 100% of the time. (Playing by himself but won't let you leave the room without crying.)

🧸 Oh, he is the biggest crier in Dethklok (Skwisgaar is the second). He will cry if he hurts himself, he'll cry if he just finished his last piece of dinner he liked, he'll cry if he doesn't want someone to stop cuddling him. But he also cries over a lot of things he doesn't understand, like being triggered by sounds or phrases. The sound of a whip and an actual whip are not allowed on Mordhaus because of how scared Toki gets when he sees/hears one. (Aslaug, when I catch you, Aslaug.)

🧸 He will utilize his big blue eyes for treats. Do not be fooled, he's already gone to everyone in the band for the same treat and got one from them already. (Charles won't budge but he's gotten close.)

🧸 Loves to cuddle. Loves to be held. I mean, is this really a HC anymore, of course Toki loves to cuddle and be held. He's cuddling while playing, he's cuddling watching TV, he's cuddling while sleeping, he's cuddling while eating. He'll cuddle on the toilet if you let him. Nathan is the person Toki goes to the most for these cuddles because he's large, soft, and has a low bass rumble in his chest when he speaks that puts Toki to sleep instantly.

🧸 He can only play independently but wants to play with others. He just doesn't know how to do that yet. Pickles and Murderface have tried to join in on play time but it stresses Toki out too much. I HC this because Toki had no control over his environment as a child, so playing is a way for him to have that control. By having someone join in, it's inviting the inevitable that they might take over his environment. That alone makes him stressed because play time was the only time as a child that Toki had any control in, so it's going to be hard letting people in when he's regressed.

🧸 He is the bubble bath connoisseur. When he's big, he is spending time looking for new bubble baths, bath bombs, toys, all kinds of shit. He loves bath time, it's his favorite part of the day when he is small. It depends if Toki needs supervision/the level of supervision for bath time when he's small. He can go from needing help every step of the way to only needing help filling the tub and getting in and out. I do think he would love to have his hair played with and washed. To me, this is a Skwisgaar or Charles job. Pickles has tried but he's almost bald with dreads and has no idea how to wash hair anymore.

🧸 The lore he has with his stuffies is long, complex, and gory. He will NOT explain it though, it's too much of a hassle.

🧸 Speaking of, Toki does have very disturbing tendencies while regressed due to his trauma. I like to think he draws and colors a lot of his abuse and shows them to the band. I also think, while regressed, he falls into old fears about being punished, so if he does something that was "breaking the rules" when he was actually a child, he will completely spiral and hurt himself somehow. He also won't say anything if he is hurt because his injuries used to never be a big deal or were "deserved". Same thing with eating and drinking, he won't do them if he feels like he did something bad. I also think he "punishes" himself by stripping himself of his shirt and pants and laying somewhere cold (under a fan or on bathroom tiles), to mimic the feeling of the "Punishment Hole". The band is closely working with Dr. Twinkletits to keep tabs on all of this.

🧸 On a happier note, he loves to follow Skwisgaar around when he's regressed, and Skwisgaar doesn't mind too much. (He loves being Toki's favorite and gloats about it all the time to the other members.)

🧸 Stares. He loves to just look at people. It scares the band sometimes until they realize they can stare back and make Toki laugh.

🧸 He's a thumb sucker. I know it in my heart that he's sucking away on his grimy little thumb and Pickles is always yelling at him to get it out of his mouth. This only works half of the time because Toki just loves his thumb too much.

🧸 When he's too little to talk, he makes a lot of huffs and puffs to get his point across. Gets progressively less coherent the sleepier he gets.

🧸 He gets nightmares. Just like when Toki isn't small, he is plagued by nightmares. But, I do believe that if he goes to bed regressed, the daily activities ease him enough that he doesn't get them nearly as much or as bad as when he's not regressed.

🧸 He uses a nightlight. It's in the shape of a kitty head and casts a kitty shadow on the wall. His name is Elin.

🧸 Toki loves arts and crafts and usually has to have someone supervise him when he's in creating mode. (He will eat the uncooked macaroni and then get upset when there's none left to make his pictures.) He is no longer allowed unsupervised access to glue as he keeps trying to eat it. Scissors, he has no problem with.

🧸 Toki is known for some pretty explosive tantrums, which Pickles and Nathan have tried very hard to work Toki through so he doesn't end up hurting himself or others. He is known to hit, kick, bite, spit, and swear when he's upset. But a lot of it is superficial. Toki isn't aiming to hurt anyone or himself, he's just expressing his frustration in a physical manner that can harm people. He gets more upset after the tantrum when he realizes what he's done. The band can't be but too mad at him, he isn't in complete control. They've learned to help Toki work through his tantrums the best they can.

🧸 The band is not allowed to ignore Toki when he's regressed because that has been identified as a trigger for a tantrum. However, Toki has and can be put in 10-minute increment time outs to calm down from a fit or if the band needs to address someone else first. (Like, if Toki punched Skwisgaar in the nose, Toki knows he's not suppose to do that, so he gets put in time out while Skwisgaar gets his nose checked out.)

🧸 Murderface loves to teach Toki when he's regressed because he will sit and listen to him about everything. EVERYTHING! Even the most boring war battle facts, he will sit and listen. Pickles is a little worried about this because Toki is even more impressionable when he's regressed. He doesn't think Murderface would take advantage of Toki like this, but he isn't a fool. (Murderface would but only small things, like picking dinner plans.)

🧸 Murderface is also the only one that can play with Toki one-on-one the longest before it stresses Toki out. Murderface's improv during play time is funnier and more creative than the other members, but when it becomes too much improv, that's when it stresses him out and they have to stop. But before that, Toki is having the time of his life.

🧸 Toki refers to Pickles and Nathan as Mamma and Pappa. I believe that Toki had to refer to his parents in Norwegian as Mor/Far (Mother/Father) all of the time, but in English he just calls them Mom/Dad because it's easier to say. But Mamma and Pappa are informal terms and mean a lot more to Toki role-wise. They're like badges of honor. They earned those names by being the caregivers they are, before and after AOTD.

🧸 He wants all of the kisses! Forehead kisses, cheek kisses, head kisses, bed time kisses, good bye kisses, good morning kisses, hello kisses. He craves physical affection. And every time he gets a kiss, he stims happily. I also think he rubs that part of himself that got kissed because it "tingles" and he has to touch it.

🧸 After discussing whether Toki would use a crate or not, I think I like the idea of him having a permanent pillow fort in the corner of his room for when he wants some alone time the most. Or to decompress. Or if he's tired and wants to nap. Though, I am still down with the dog crate idea. Or the little kiddy tent! I love them all, honestly!

🧸 They have a playground installed on Mordhaus just for Toki. He loves the swing and will swing (or be pushed) for hours if you let him. He has gone through multiple swings in a short amount of time because of how much he swings. (This is projection. I have broken 4 swings due to swinging so much.)

🧸 Skwisgaar has inside jokes with Toki when he's small and only in Swedish. Toki giggles so hard when he gets a chance to whisper one of them to Skwisgaar that he almost cant get them out.

🧸 Toki has a bed time routine that he has to follow when he's small (with the help of his bandmates) because it helps him regulate his emotions and builds structure. The routine is simple: brush teeth, brush hair, wash face, go potty, get changed, pick out a bed time story, climb into bed. Nathan is the official bed time reader, but the band is usually with him when he's falling asleep. He needs his goodnight kisses otherwise he will be upset.

🧸 Toki loves having sleep overs in the other guys rooms. He loves Nathan's rooms the most because of the aquariums (low sensory, calming, general interest), then it's Murderface's because of the different devices in his room (low simulation and attention, general interest), then it's Skwisgaar's room because he has the window so he can see all the stars at night, then it's Pickles room. However, Pickles room is the coziest in Toki's opinion because Pickles is there, and he loves Pickles very much. He knows on one is going to get him in Pickles room.

🧸 Skwisgaar knows very little on how to cook, but the times he does cook, he utilizes Toki as a taste tester for his dishes. They have similar pallets, so Toki can accurately depict the dishes intended taste. Skwisgaar always sets him on the table and spoon feeds him whatever he is cooking (usually soup or stew) and asks for his opinion. Toki loves it and always asks for Skwisgaar to feed Deaddy Bear too.

🧸 Toki's age regression is public knowledge. He is unable to control when he regresses, so he has public appearances where he is regressed. This unfortunately meant that Toki had to address it to the press, despite Toki feeling uneasy about answering questions. They all know that the press love to ask intimate and personal questions, even if it makes him uncomfortable. The band and Charles were off to the side supporting him through out the whole press conference. After the initial interview, Charles would be the only one answering questions about Toki's regression, so that 1) Toki wouldn't have to do it and 2) Charles can't be bullied into giving out too much private information on the matter, he's a professional. This was greeted with mixed results at first but gradually turned positive as more information was readily understood by the public.

🧸 The Dethmoms have wavering opinions about Toki. Anja does not acknowledge it, or at least tries very hard not to acknowledge it. Toki does become scared around her when he's little and she knows that. Stella thinks most of it is made up and he's just looking for attention, but she does not outright ridicule Toki to his face. She'll play along for the sake of keeping him quiet. Servetta does not have an opinion either way, but she does like to dote on him from time to time (head pats, petnames) when she's able to get him to do something for her. Molly does not like it one bit and will not play along. She has gotten mad at Toki before and has "called him out" for it, but only to be met with 0 back up (Stella understands enough that Toki isn't her child, so it's not her place to call him out, only Anja's.) Rose is the only one in the group that absolutely adores Toki. She's read every book, every blog post, every piece of literature to try and make herself a safe space for Toki. Toki in return looks forward to seeing Rose and will ignore everyone in favor of her. Rose gives him all of the sugary sweet lovings that the boys can't quite give him, so they let him be coddled and coo-ed at from her. (Nathan isn't jealous of this at all.)

🧸 Toki has been known to hang out with Charles while he works. Sometimes he's as quiet as can be, completely oblivious to whatever Charles is doing. However, Toki has sat in Charles lap before just wanting to cuddle while Charles is on a phone call or web meetings. He has made multiple appearances during zoom meetings of just cuddling Charles or sleeping on his shoulder. The other members of the meeting have taken a regressed Toki in a meeting as a "Good Luck Charm" for whatever future endeavors they are about to talk/negotiate/revise about. They've even moved meetings forward/backwards with future partners when Charles has Toki in his lap because they have so much faith in his "Good Luck Charm" ability.

🧸 Charles has a board in his office just for drawings that the band has made while regressed. 95% of them are Toki's drawings though.

🧸 Abigail is still a big part of Toki's life, both regressed and not. I believe after the Metalocalypse, Abigail and Nathan did have a serious conversation about everything where Nathan apologizes for his behavior. Abigail accepts and the group + Abigail form a friendship. But a lot of it is between Toki and Abigail, where Abigail is able to take care or calm Toki down much easier and much faster than any one of them. Toki will wake up from nightmares demanding to call her to make sure she's ok, which she always answers. She understands Toki very well, and most of their time spent together is in quiet tranquility. He mainly just wants to cuddle with her and rest, sometimes babbling about stuff but most of the time is quiet. He finds comfort in her and she will lend him something that smells like her to calm him down if need be.

🧸 It's common to leave baby's outside to nap in Scandinavian countries like Norway and Sweden. When Toki wants to nap, he will ask to go outside and sleep on a blanket, which the band allows. However, when he wants to do it during the winter where there is snow, the band argues back with him, except Skwisgaar. He has to tell them that this is completely normal for Scandinavian children. He buys Toki the appropriate wear clothes and sleeping bag, and lets Toki take a nap outside in the snow. Skwisgaar will either join him or be near by to calm the rest of the bands nerves, especially Pickles.

🧸 Very very very few klokateers are allowed to care for Toki in the place of the band or Charles. Out of all of the klokateers, these people have to go through an extensive and grueling interviewing processes to get the position. Toki knows exactly who these klokateers are and understand that if Charles allows them to care for him, then they can be trusted. These klokateers also have the most amount of pressure on them. While their position won't kill them like other positions, if they betray the trust of Charles by hurting Toki, they are signing themselves up for a world of pain unlike they have ever known. Death would be too kind for those who hurt Toki when he is small.

🧸 Toki is also a biter. He likes to bite and nibble on people for attention. It doesn't hurt unless he uses his canines.

🐰🐝🎸🎮🤡🐱🍭✈️🛼🎹🖍️🍼🍺💉🎁🤠🏎️🔫👯‍♂️🪽🌈🤮

Ok, that's all for now! I hope you enjoyed these as much as I enjoyed putting them down. Obviously, my word isn't law so if you HC Toki differently than any of these, it's all good. In fact, I wanna read about them, lol! So yeah, thanks xxx

#toki wartooth #metalocalypse #dethklok agere #age regression toki #toki agere #dethklok #william murderface #skwisgaar skwigelf #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #charles offdensen #metalocalypse headcanons #Age Regression Headcanons #Toki agere HCs

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banjjakz · 8 months ago

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Seven Days at Granny Orimoto's Flower Shop ; Yuuta x F!Reader

My name is Okkotsu Yuuta. I am a recent graduate of a martial arts vocational school. I just completed a year-long internship abroad in Africa. Due to my recent re-entry into Japan, I am still in the process of setting up my phone and internet. I apologize for the inconvenience and I am extremely sorry for the burden. As a supervisor and business, you may benefit from the set of skills that I have to offer. I can lift upwards of 25kg. I am neat and detail oriented. Due to past life experiences, I am a fast learner and quick to adapt to new surroundings. I am accustomed to taking orders and delivering results. It is my utmost goal to ensure the comfort and satisfaction of those around me. I am eager to be of service. Please think of me kindly.

Or: An odd boy shows up every night begging for a job offer. Did you mention that he gives you handwritten letters? Do you have to report a workplace romance if the only other employee is your boss, who is currently dying? Asking for a friend.

notes: commission for the lovely mielle! thank you very kindly for 1) commissioning me!!!!!! and 2) putting up with my compulsion to surpass any and all word count specifications

warnings: general off-putting vibes, casual discussions of child death, implied stalking (at the very least), unethical(…? maybe ethically gray?) necromancy, etc. y'all know what's about to go down

♡‬ read on ao3 ‪♡‬

Life as a florist is every bit the dream that you’d hoped it would be.

The thought of working from nine to five in some cubicle for the rest of your life was enough to drive you out of university before even completing the feeble attempt you’d half-assedly made at a degree. While the path to your current state of employment had not been linear, easy, or even recommended, you cannot imagine ending up anywhere else.

You’re lucky enough as it is that Granny Orimoto was willing to take you on – perhaps, at first, out of pity – as a shop-hand. That day, all those months, is still as clear as unmarred waters in your mind. What a pitiful image you must have made: underfed, poorly clothed, with roving, vacant eyes.

Nevertheless, you adjusted quickly and gratefully to your new place of employment. Within months, your sense of self and purpose in life had been restored, watered and nurtured underneath the guiding light of Granny Orimoto’s flower shop. Like a corpse risen again, your days were once more filled with hope and aspirations.

Eventually, Granny Orimoto began bestowing upon you more and more responsibilities. You tend to think of your daily tasks as privileges more than anything else. You’ve graduated far beyond merely ringing customers up on the till – at this point, you’re somewhat of a budding horticulturalist. Or, at least, that’s what you’d like to think on your good days.

Recently, Granny Orimoto has even begun to entrust you to manage the shop on your lonesome for several days out of the week. It used to be the case that she would require you to work only hours that coincided with her own availability, so that you might fall under her constant supervision. Of course, this was back when you could barely keep a plant alive. Nowadays, things are quite different.

Quite different, indeed.

On this slow, Monday evening, managerial status finds its way to you once more. Closing the shop used to feel weird, without Granny Orimoto there to lay into you about your posture, or your clumsiness, or your naturally shy, stuttering nature. Now, it’s starting to feel eerily more and more like business as usual.

When the bell above the front door rings, you don’t think too much of it – this town is a bit of a tourist trap, so there are quite a few out-of-towners who aren’t used to respecting closing times. Usually, you’re too nice to shoo them out, but the weight of the day bears heavily upon your apron-clad shoulders.

But when you spin around on your heel, the polite-yet-firm “we closed four minutes ago” withers on your tongue like dead leaves crumbling away upon the unrepentant, earthen ground.

The most disturbing thing is not that he’s exactly your type of handsome: tall, gaunt, malnourished, with a strange, lost look in his wideset eyes. It would be easier, somehow, if your immediate and arresting attraction to the gangly stranger was the most of your worries.

Perhaps what unnerves you so, is the fact that you are powerless to do anything but devote the entirety of your attention to the odd young man. The terra cotta pot once in your grasp has suddenly been placed on the nearest shelf. The gardener’s gloves on your hands have now been stripped away and flung carelessly to the ground, the delicate flesh of your fingers on display for the world to see.

“Are you hiring?” He asks. The lights flicker. Granny Orimoto should really stop fighting you about calling an electrician – they aren’t that expensive.

No, is what you should say, because you don’t have the authority to answer this question and also the thought of having to train someone else when you are just barely getting the hang of your newfound managerial status is a terrifying prospect.

And yet, what ends up leaving your mouth is:

“Yes.”

His black hair is overgrown and in dire need of a trim. The bangs are in a liminal state: too short to part, too long for comfort. It dangles limply in his eyes. Those eyes. Big and glassy and dark, like a dead doe gazing up, unseeingly, at the sky.

“Okay,” he says. “Is there an application that I could fill out?”

Is he not cold? The weather chills significantly at night, and his layers look rather thin. Or maybe that’s just the way the clothes hang off of him. “No, it’s alright. You can just – um, you’re good.”

“I’m…?”

“You’re good,” you repeat and then you have to fight for control over your own body, so that you can turn around and break eye contact before it actually kills you. “When can you start? Do you have a phone number? Um, so we can get in touch with you about scheduling and training and verify your location and such and so forth.”

Okay, that last sentence was hastily tacked on. You’ll be the first to admit that much. But what kind of girl would you look like, asking a random stranger for his number out of the blue?

You hear more than you see him shuffle his feet, still lingering awkwardly in the doorway. “Um, no, sorry. I don’t have a phone.”

“E-mail?”

“Ah..no…would communication via letter be alright?”

What is his problem?

He shows up, four minutes past closing, poorly dressed and clearly in poor health, as well, to inquire about a job opening, and doesn’t even have a phone or any form of contact to provide other than handwritten correspondence?

Is this a prank? Are you being pranked, right now? You pause your fastidious, frustrated handling of today’s arranged bouquets just to surreptitiously scan your surroundings for any hidden cameras.

It’s like the man of your dreams has walked through the door. It’s almost too good to be true. You know you have eclectic tastes—and this is exactly why you’ve never had a boyfriend, before.

Because what living man could possibly compare to the fictional freakshows you stay up late at night reading about? Who would be worth fawning over, when you are already well equipped with a wealth of off-putting – and, quite frankly, disturbing – characters of ill-repute? Never has there been a living, breathing vessel capable of catching your jaded, heavy eyes.

Until now, that is.

“Sure,” you say, allowing the brain-rot to take control of your faculties. “Give me one second to write down our mailing information.”

But before you can cling desperately to another excuse to evade his magnetic presence, the strange boy speaks up, alluring you with the unsettlingly tranquil timbre of his voice: “That won’t be necessary. I can hand deliver the letters every day, around this time.”

You blink, sizing him up once more. Any normal human being would find this situation incredibly odd and even worth of a police report.

However, you’re comfortable in your own skin and are able to recognize that the screws you’ve knocked loose over time have, for better or worse, permanently altered your threshold for “red” or “green” flag recognition. For all you care, the flag could be purple. You aren’t thinking about flags right now. You’re thinking about his murky bangs, dark and deep, a rich obsidian, metastasizing over the smooth expanse of his alabaster forehead like a natural disaster.

“Okay. I’ll be waiting at this time every night, then.”

For the first time this evening, his gaunt face split into a tender grin, pink lips parting like spliced flesh. Somehow, he’s able to make the act of smiling something gory, something haunting. Your eyes are glued to the bone-white of his teeth. It’s like watching a car crash. You want, desperately, to look away. You cannot.

“I’m glad,” says the strange boy. “I’ll be here every night, right on time.”

A soft breeze stirs outside, just restless enough to tickle teasingly at the windchimes which dangle from the shop’s awning. Usually, the barrier of the front door dulls the melody. Tonight, you can hear the bells loud and clear.

Before you can think to demand (beg) that he reveal additional identifying information about himself – like, say, his name – the boy has all but disappeared from sight. Incredulously, you whirl around on your heel, scanning every visible inch of the shop for any possible clue as to where he went. But your searching is all for naught. It seems that he is, both in presence and absence, a complete mystery to you.

Well. There are certainly worse things that have happened to you. At least you got to chat with a cute, creepy guy for your trouble.

;

The next day, Granny Orimoto abstains from work yet again. Her modest apartment sitting atop the flower shop has kept her out of sight for many days, now. You’re no stranger to her fits and bursts of ill health, but you cannot recall the last time the brusque, full-hearted old lady has been bedridden for such a prolonged length of time.

You almost consider trying to drop by unannounced to bring her some soup and vitamins, but the thought dies immediately upon arrival. Memories of the last time you’d tried to caretake for her and were subsequently thrown out with indignant, irate gusto are enough to curb your momentary sympathy.

This means that you are effectively head of shop, once more. Over time, it gets easier to deal with the random accidents prone to any small, self-run business: leaks, clogs, jams, flickering lights, disappearing items, strange sounds at odd hours with an unlocatable source. All of it, you handle with def improvisational methods.

Even the spontaneously shattering bathroom mirror is no match for your handywoman capabilities! Really, Granny Orimoto should be lucky that it is you who happened to show up on her doorstep just as her health began to take a dive.

These are the kinds of thoughts buzzing around your skull as twilight descends upon the horizon like flies to a carcass. The death of the day is, as usual, a bloody affair: hues of bright vermillion spill across the sky, setting everything in the shop a brilliant, flagrant shade of fresh-burning red. The terracotta pots seem almost to be radiating with internal heat.

Night comes soon enough, bringing with it a brisk chill in the air. The wind rustles the windchimes, a forewarning of what is to come.

And sure enough, at 8:04 P.M., there he is, lingering in the doorway, daring to take not one step past the threshold, just as he’d done yesterday, that first night.

“Good evening.”

Clutched in his fingers is a wrinkled letter, wrapped in plain stationery. He offers it to you with both hands, politely.

The space between the both of you evaporates in the fraction of a second it takes for you to cross the shop and greet him back, accepting the letter with greedy hands and a greedier heart. “Good evening. Thank you for the correspondence.”

“Thank you for receiving it,” he replies, scratching the back of his head in a stupidly endearing self-conscious gesture. “I know the manner of communication is a bit unconventional… sorry about that…”

“It’s okay.” And it really is. You, of all people, are no stranger to unforeseen and harrowing life circumstances. That the young man does not possess a phone or email address is not so uncommon, anyways – you’ve had time to reflect on the situation, and for all his off-putting looks and strangely formal manner of speaking, he could easily be a country mouse who has recently relocated to a more urban area. Who are you to judge?

“Shall I have a response waiting for you tomorrow night?”

He bows, then, for a bit longer and a bit deeper than what is normally appropriate for two virtual strangers. “I’d be grateful. Thank you for the trouble.”

Once more, he evaporates seemingly into thin air, leaving behind not even the faintest trace of his existence. He appears to possess an uncanny ability to slip out of sight just as your eyes fall shut in the millisecond it takes to blink, to breathe.

Taken in stride with his dark-circled eyes and general aura of mysterious tragedy, the whole schtick is a little bit sexy, you have to admit. His vibe is that of a haunted family heirloom: beautiful, priceless, stained in generations of blood and cursed to doom those who dare to draw too near.

Your eagerness is almost feral as you tear apart the seal to the envelope in your hands, greedily pawing at the innards. What awaits you is a handwritten letter, complete with smudged pencil marks obscuring some of the more intricate kanji scribbled onto the page. Some of his radicals waver, lines bending or sprawling in odd and abnormal ways, as though he’d been shaking when we wrote it.

As though he’d been nervous. So nervous, in fact, that upon handing you the thing, he had to immediately abscond from the premises without another word.

Cute.

To Whom it May Concern,

Thank you very kindly for your willingness to take me on as an apprentice to your shop. Please allow me to introduce myself.

As a supervisor and business, you may benefit from the set of skills that I have to offer. I can lift upwards of 25kg. I am neat and detail oriented. Due to past life experiences, I am a fast learner and quick to adapt to new surroundings. I am accustomed to taking orders and delivering results. It is my utmost goal to ensure the comfort and satisfaction of those around me. I am eager to be of service.

Please think of me kindly.

Upon reading the very last word of the very last line, you discover that your bottom lip has been bitten so severely that a fine trickle of blood is descending down your chin.

There is no resume or CV in sight – just this handwritten, strangle little letter in which he divulges some most interesting truths.

Is he playing mind games with you? “Accustomed to taking orders”? “Eager to be of service”? Is he trying to tell you something? Outside of the hiring process, that is.

The note itself is perfectly polite and proper. It’s you whose mind succumbs hedonistically to the gutter. Oh, for shame.

At night, the shop tends to turn into a gnarly jungle of pots and leaves and vines and poorly-placed smatterings of soil; you wade through theses trenches, aided by no more than the moonlight attempting to feebly infiltrate through the shutters – as the lights are out, again. Should probably call someone about that.

In your frantic haste, it’s a miracle your hands aren’t sliced by a spare pair of shears lying forgotten on some counter or another. Before injury occurs, you’ve already located what you’ve been searching for: a usable pen and some clean, uncrumpled paper.

The matchbox in your back pocket proves useful as you strike up a flame and light a nearby candle, paying no mind to the potential danger of the wobbly column of fire in a room full of fauna.

Like a woman possessed, you feverishly scribble away at your reply. It takes you longer to draft this one particular letter than it had to complete your college entrance exams.

But it’s alright – the candle beside you burns throughout the night, neither the wick nor the wax diminishing even a wink.

Dear Okkotsu,

Your eagerness to work hard is clearly evident. Color me impressed.

As fate would have it, I am in dire need of some help with running the shop. The owner has been absent with illness for quite some time and the workload is starting to get unmanageable. The addition of a strong set of arms is more than welcome. Even when it was the two of us putzing around, we still wouldn’t have been able to do some of the heavier lifting.

I’m curious to hear more about your passion to serve. Was this instilled in you during your time at vocational school? What does “being of service” mean to you?

While we are ultimately a public-facing shop, the stream of customers is slow, and your daily tasks will often look like physical labor and horticultural activities. But, from your letter, it sounds like this will pose no object.

Overall, your enthusiasm is appreciated and your hard-working attitude is attractive to future employers.

You could start as early as tomorrow.

Please do respond at your convenience.

It was rather quickly with only a slight bit of panic running through your veins that you tacked on “to future employers.” Even while reading it back, you cringe a little bit. Too forward? Oh well. It’s written in ink and it’s much too late to go for hunting for another clean piece of paper in the shop’s opaque blackness.

Speaking of which… you really should call an electrician. And a plumber. And some sort of handy man, to help you clean up all the broken glass from the shattered bathroom mirror. And maybe it may also me a good idea to get in touch with a security footage company and inquire about their installation rates. It certainly can’t be normal; how many things go missing so frequently. Although you’ve spent most of your waking hours with an aging elderly woman up until very recently, you’re quite sure that dementia isn’t contagious.

Ah, well. These are all things to take care of tomorrow. Sighing, you tuck away the letter into your back pocket for safe keeping before you go about locking up.

You try not to think too hard about the lingering gaze you feel on the back of your neck. If anything, it feels better than being completely alone.

;

The fragrant scent of okayu fills your nose as you climb the stairs to reach Granny Orimoto’s apartment.

Usually, you would not dare to trespass inside her abode, despite it’s close proximity to the shop. She is a grouchy old lady who does not take kindly to meddling. And yet, you couldn’t ignore the seed of worry in the pit of your belly, which had blossomed over the course of the past few weeks into full-blown concern for her wellbeing. Besides her once-daily text message in the evening confirming the status of shop operations, you have not seen or heard from the old woman in what must be almost half a month at this point.

So, you’ve bitten back your pride and prepared a meal to personally deliver to her.

You are moderately concerned when there is no response to your three separate attempts at knocking on the door. Granny Orimoto hadn’t responded to any of your text messages, so you’d naively assumed she’d been asleep and hadn’t seen them. But is it possible to sleep through the ruckus that you’re creating?

The tension in your body only heightens when you try to the doorknob and realize, in shock and slight horror, that it’s open.

“Granny Orimoto?” You call out, haltingly yet loudly – loud enough to reach her wizened ears. “Granny, I’m sorry, I’ll be coming in now! Pardon the intrusion!”

Taking care not to jostle the still-hot bowl of rice porridge in your hands, you slip off your shoes at the Genkan and make your way inside of the apartment. Although you’ve only been here once before – and it had been an extremely brief stay before Granny Orimoto had shooed you off the premises – it still doesn’t feel all that unfamiliar to you.

It’s a traditional set-up, that much is for sure. Not much has changed, either. Same old floral blankets folded in various assortments and piles around the tiny room, same old plastic draining rack laid across the kitchen sink.

And, of course, there is that strange pair of guest slippers by the front door.

A bright, childish pink with the width and depth to accompany the foot of a young girl no older than six, these slippers had given you pause the first time you’d set foot in Granny Orimoto’s apartment. As far as you know, the old lady doesn’t have any living relatives with which she maintains contact. She spends every holiday alone, in her room, and refuses any offers of companionship between the two of you. You’ve always assumed something tragic must have happened, for a woman this advanced in age to have no one to visit or host during the New Year.

So why, then, does she keep a pair of children’s house slippers by the front door?

Although they are neatly placed and carefully aligned, the heels of the slippers face the direction of the household – as though they’ve been recently taken off and exchanged for outside shoes. Like someone has been here and left. Were they in that position when you stopped by before? Perhaps Granny Orimoto set them that way during her last cleaning.

Shaking yourself out of your reverie, you move past the entrance area and towards where you know the bedroom awaits. There is no overt stench of death and decay, so you aren’t afraid of walking in on her corpse. You’re, like, 85% sure that you could mentally recover from handling that situation, but it would be unfortunate and would likely mean an endless night for you and the poor EMTs who would be dispatched to the scene.

The bedroom door, too, is slightly ajar, and when you push it open all the way, you’re greeted by a sight that hits you squarely in the chest, knocking the wind from your lungs, stealing your voice, marring your eyes with shock and sympathy.

Granny Orimoto lies on her back, skin so pale that it is a near perfect match to the futon covers draped around her frail body. Even from this distance, you are able to clearly track the pathway of her veins as they course across her, the deep blues and greens standing out abnormally against the thin, alabaster flesh. Her hair, significantly grayer than the last time you’d seen her, has escaped from it’s usual, customary low-slung bun. You’ve never seen Granny Orimoto in any other kind of style – in fact, you’d begun to think – somewhat mischievously – that her hair had been surgically arranged to the nape of her neck.

But now, it sprawls around her skull in scraggly spirals, spilling across the pillow like leaking liquid. Thin and brittle, you’re sure that if she tried to gather it into a bun as she once had, it would split and break into a million fine pieces of ash.

“So, you’ve come.”

That hoarse voice snaps you out of your trance. You hadn’t even noticed that she was awake. One moment, you’d been gazing at her motionless body – and the next, you find her entirely unchanged except for the fact that her eyes are now open, peering at you. Unblinking. It’s disconcerting.

It looks like the effort pains her, to lift one hand and pat weakly at the comforter. “You came all the way here, silly girl. Might as well sit.”

You aren’t being kicked out?

Wow. She really must be dying.

Gingerly, you fold your legs beneath you and linger at the edge of the futon. “Granny, how are you feeling? I brought okayu. If you are feeling up to it, please eat. You must take care of your health.”

“Alright then,” says Granny Orimoto, mildly. “You’ll have to help me.”

“Of course.”

There is ultimately an insignificant amount of spillage down the front of her shirt, in the end. Still, you take it as an opportunity to encourage her to take a bath and change into fresh clothes, which you expect she has not done in far too long. This, too, requires your assistance. You don’t mind it at all. In fact, it brings you peace – to be able to care for the woman who had most probably saved your life by taking you in, all that time ago.

When it’s all said and done, Granny Orimoto lays back in the bed. The sheets could use some washing and the futon itself should surely be hung out in the sun to dry, but you recognize that this might be a bit too much excitement for her today. Having eaten and bathed, Granny Orimoto appears ready to return to her slumber.

You decide not to push your luck by overstaying your welcome. “Please rest well, Granny Orimoto. I will come back soon.”

It is when you are almost past the threshold of the bedroom door that you hear Granny’s whisper, faint as smoke and so soft it almost doesn’t sound like the stubborn, strong-willed woman you once knew:

“You remind me of my granddaughter.”

As though you’ve been struck by lightning, your body is immediately paralyzed, muscles helpless to do anything but twitch in confusion, overstimulation. “Oh…? I hope she is well…”

“She’s dead,” says Granny Orimoto. “The stench of death follows you.”

Ironic, coming from a woman who is quite obviously preparing to approach the far shore herself. “I see.”

“Whatever is hanging around you, get it taken care of. You’ll stink up the shop and the plants will wither.”

“Yes, Granny.”

“Are you taking care of my zinnias?”

“Yes, Granny.”

“Better be. How can you own a flower shop if you can’t take care of zinnias…”

You want to whip around and ask her what the hell she means by that, but the rumbling of her soft snores fill the space before you can get another word in edgewise.

As you make your way downstairs, Granny’s words continue to marinate in your mind – and not just her implication that the shop would be left to you. That she thought it fit to tell you that you remind her of her dead granddaughter was certainly an event that occurred in your life. But what exactly had she been on about, telling you that you smell like death?

In absentminded thought, your hand fiddles around in your jacket pocket with the latest letter from Okkotsu. You can’t stop thinking about his response to your last letter.

To You, Whom it Concerns,

Are you taking care? The seasons are changing during this time, so I hope your health is faring well.

I’m glad that my enthusiasm comes across as clearly as my physical capabilities. Sometimes I struggle to convey my intentions and inner thoughts. It seems like we can understand each other well, even while communicating through letters, which makes me happy.

To me, being of service means unobstructed and clear-minded dedication of the self, body and mind, to another’s fulfillment. Not dissimilar to pure love. This “pure” element is important to me. In fact, I believe total service is a form of pure love. Would you agree?

Maybe this is a bit strange to say, and you might hate me for it, but you remind me of a girl I once knew. She is long gone now. It has been nice to see some of her, again. Of course, it has been even nicer to get to know you.

Regretfully, I cannot begin formal employment just yet. The country re-entry procedures are taking longer than expected and things are a bit complicated right now. It is burdensome, but if you could please kindly allow for some additional time I would be very grateful. I’m sorry to trouble you.

In the meantime, it’s fun to chat together, like this. I’d be happy if we could continue.

Take care not to catch a cold.

The first time you’d read it practically had you squealing into your hands like a schoolgirl. Pure love? Expressing concern for your health? Expressing his desire to continue exchanging letters, even if he can’t formally start the training process?

At this rate, you’re on track towards a confession.

Which, of course, is the ultimate goal. You could never forgive yourself for letting the physical manifestation of all your wildest fantasies slip away. No, you’ve got to reel him in. You’ve got to ensnare him in a web of infatuation, so convoluted and intense that he won’t be able to find his way out. You’ve already decided that he is yours. It’s only a matter of time before things fall into place.

As has become customary, Okkotsu drops by the shop at precisely 8:04 p.m. and not one moment sooner or later. You’ve grown to anticipate the tinkling of the windchimes which herald his otherwise soundless arrival. Like an apparition, his visage manifests in the front door.

There’s something different about tonight: uncertain, he chances a foot past the threshold. “Could I trouble you to come inside?”

Oh. Oh! Are you finally past the stage of contactless letter exchange? You could cry tears of joy. “Please come in.”

“Pardon the intrusion…”

When he breaks past the entry area, it’s as though a wave of heat pulses throughout not just your own body, but the entire shop, as well. A light sweat breaks out at the crest of your brow. Is this seasonally appropriate? You aren’t sure if there is any season wherein a heatwave past sundown is normal.

Okkotsu looks at you like a lost puppy, floundering at what to do, what to say next. You yourself are no less awkward, but you take on the burden of breaking the silence first:

“It’s funny, you mentioned in your letter that I remind you of a girl you once knew. Today, my boss said that I remind her of her dead granddaughter. Wouldn’t happen to be the same girl, huh?”

You’re trying for lighthearted, but the joke falls flat when Okkotsu pales, white as a ghost.

Damage control, damage control! “Oh, I’m – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, it’s alright,” he cuts you off, raising a hand. “I should’ve been forthright from the beginning. You aren’t too far off from the truth.”

Huh?

Okkotsu continues, “When I was a little boy, Mrs. Orimoto’s granddaughter and I were best friends. Her name was Rika. When she was six, Rika died in a car accident. I was with her at the time and failed to do anything to stop it from happening, or to save her. I’ve always been very sorry to Mrs. Orimoto, who raised Rika from a young age. By working at her shop, I hoped to repay some of that debt…”

You blink once, twice. Time seems to fall apart and reconstruct itself in the space it takes you to conjure up a response. What can you possibly say, to a story like that?

“You don’t, er, have to say anything,” mutters Okkotsu, as though he’s read your mind. “I know it’s heavy. But that’s the truth…”

“Okkotsu,” you say, voice tinny and faraway to your own ears. “You have a good heart.”

His downcast face shoots upwards, wide eyes seeking out your own with a desperate sheen to their dark, bottomless depths. “Huh…?”

“I mean it,” you press on, stepping closer as you do. He doesn’t even flinch or waver. You know this, because your senses are acutely aware of every fiber of his being. “Not many people would be that brave, or honor that sense of duty. You’re an admirable man. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

It seems you’ll be staying well past closing tonight to mop up the puddle that Okkotsu is about to melt into. His ears burn such a bright red that they almost glow in the dim lighting of the shop.

“I- I--!”

“So that’s the depth of your service,” you muse, your toes stopping just shy of his own, “or your ‘pure love’?”

Okkotsu’s eyes flutter shut. The sound of his gulp echoes like a gunshot. “Ah… er, miss manager, I—”

“Call me by my name. I’ve written it to you for a reason.”

Obeying your direct command, he feebly whispers your name, invoking you like he’s scared of what he’s about to summon. It sets a live wire alight at the base of your spine. Sparks fly throughout your body and it’s all you can do not to pounce on him then and there in this very shop, sleeping Granny upstairs be damned.

“Good. It seems you really are skilled at taking direction.”

His eyes are still closed when you nods, face flushed. Cute. You can’t help but want to tease him more, push him further. “Good job.”

His head all but hangs, now, as he resolutely refuses to make eye contact with you. In front of him, his hands are clasped suspiciously in front of his crotch – a detail which you take in ravenously, hungrily.

Curbing the overwhelming desire to do more, you settle with pushing your sealed envelope into his firm, solid chest with both hands, letting your fingernails press lightly into the muscle. “Here’s today’s letter. Read it and respond well.”

“Yes, I understand,” he says, eyes still shut, head still hung.

It requires you to stand on your tiptoes, when you try to lean into his ear and whisper: “You deserve a chance to make things right. Let me help you with this.”

You let him go, then, because you’re sure he’s about ready to burst at the seams. The last thing you throw his way is yet another bit of praise, because you’re a little bit awful: “I admire your idea of pure love, Okkotsu.”

Before tonight, you’ve never seen a grown man walk straight into a windowpane. Okkotsu reels back, nods and bows to you in acknowledgement before hightailing it out of the shop so fast that, as usual, you fail to actually see him go through the motions of stepping out and leaving. He’s always in such a rush. An odd one, he is.

Good thing “odd” just your type.

From that night onwards, Okkotsu starts making himself more available outside of his usual 8:04 p.m. haunting. Now, he’ll drop by early enough in the afternoons for his shadow to be visible against the door. Still, he resolutely avoids any times when current customers are present. You tease him, lightly, for this, asking how he plans to work partially as a sales attendant if he is afraid to interact with the customer base.

His response?

“I want to work here for two reasons,” he’d stated simply. “For you, and for Rika.”

Normal women would probably find an issue with their ideal man likening them to his dead childhood sweetheart. Fortunately, you are not normal. It’s flattering, even.

Clearly, Rika was another manifestation of his pure love. That you can even approach that category, let alone be mentioned in the same breath as her, is, to you, a vibrant green flag. You must be doing something right here.

So you continue intertwining yourself deeper and deeper with Okkotsu Yuuta: the letters are a constant in both of your daily lives, as well as his visits become more frequent. As an interesting development, he’s started to bring you homecooked food. Usually, it is you who does the caregiving. The first time he shows up with an obento made specially for you – complete with a heart made out of specially cut seaweed set atop the fresh rice – you almost start crying.

Admittedly, it’s all moving very fast. Hasn’t it only been four days, now, since he’d first darkened your doorway, pitifully asking for a job with no form of communication? And now, here he is, feeding you the food he’d prepared for you to enjoy as you go about your closing shift.

“Would you ever want to go out?” You blurt, and then pause, mortified at the overtly forward implication to your words. “Like! To a restaurant! Or a café! You always bring me stuff. Let me treat you.”

“Hmmm…”

Okkotsu’s wide, dark eyes roll upwards in thought. “But I really like staying here. I like eating here. No one else gets to see your pleased, comfortable face while eating except me. I don’t think I can share that. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, dizzy. “You don’t have to.”

This is the right answer. Despite his soft, youthful features, the ginger grin he offers you is undercut by the ominous glint in his intense gaze. “I don’t have to share?” He gathers some pickled plum in the chopsticks, bringing them to your open, waiting mouth. “It’s all for me?”

“I am,” you say, and accept the bitter, delicious fruit on the tip of your tongue. It is pungent. It is sweet. It is overwhelming. You almost aren’t able to swallow.

Time spent with Okkotsu makes life seem so fantastical that it almost blinds you to the world of the living. That night, you cannot find it within yourself to leave the shop and go home after closing, instead opting to chat with this gaunt, ghoulish boy until you are startled awake in the morning by your phone’s automatic alarm.

When you come to, you discover that you’d all but passed out behind the front desk, where the two of you had sat, talking, for hours into the night. Okkotsu is nowhere to be found, but in his absence is a crisply folded piece of paper lying innocently upon the desk. Hastily, you scrub at your eyes and smack your lips, trying to wake yourself up as much as is possible before you unfurl the letter and dive into its contents.

To You, Whom it Concerns,

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be apart from you?

If I could have, I would have stayed with you all throughout the night. I’m sorry to have left you by yourself. But you aren’t really alone. If you ever feel lonely, in the shop, please remember that I’m always there with you. Watching over you. Can you feel me?

Thanks for listening to me last night. It was a heavy story to tell, but now that I’ve confessed it, I feel so much lighter. And you accept me! Words can’t express how I feel, so please allow me to keep showing you.

Also, since Mrs. Orimoto isn’t well these days, can I ask that you don’t share with her that I’m here? The shock may worsen her condition. When she is no longer bedridden, I will tell her myself that I wish to remain and work in the shop. You shouldn’t be caught in the middle of my situation.

As always, I can’t wait to see you again. I miss you so much already, and I haven’t even left the shop yet. I’m writing this as I watch you sleep. Did you know that you snore a little bit? It’s cute.

Please think of me often.

On the one hand, you want to bury your face in your hands and scream and cry and maybe roll around and die a little bit. A love note! It’s a proper love note, this time. The thought makes your insides feel as though they’re being set alight with a bright, brilliant, inextinguishable flame.

On the other hand, Okkotsu’s mention of Granny Orimoto has brought to mind the fact that you haven’t heard from her in what is now two days. Usually, she’ll send you a message or two at the end of every day, making sure that things are in order and that you haven’t burned down the shop yet. But the last time you’d spoken to her had been when you brought over the okayu to soothe her sickly stomach…

Inexplicably, a chill overtakes your body.

Operating on autopilot, you pull yourself together – running a hand through your hair, smoothing your wrinkled clothes – and make your way out of the shop, to the external set of stairs running along the west wall.

With haste, you climb the steps, nearly tripping over yourself to reach the front door which has been left, once again, unlocked. The sense of wrongness occupying your faculties only heightens when you realize this must mean that Granny Orimoto has not been up out of bed since you’d last visited.

When you stop to toe off your shoes at the genkan, you notice that the bright pink pair of children’s house slippers are nowhere to be found, absent from their perpetual perch by the front door, as though someone – or something – has stepped inside.

Mind whirling a mile a minute, you push into the apartment and immediately reel back at the offensive scent of pure, unadulterated rot.

Oh.

Oh, no.

It could be the spoiled ingredients in the fridge, you think, desperately, as you hustle towards the bedroom. It could be anything. Anything but what it is you’re most afraid of.

Dazed, confused, scared, and still freshly woken up, your clumsy limbs somehow manage to collide with one of the low-sitting tables filling the living space. The abundance of knick-knacks and keepsakes cluttering the surface clatter in indignation, making an obscene ruckus as they fall over and to the floor. Upon closer inspection, you realize, to your horror, that it is an altar which you’d disturbed.

The only things left unshaken by your blundering blight are two framed photos: one of which displays the portrait of a young girl, no older than six, with long, dark hair and a serene smile. She seems to peer at you through the barriers of the picture frame, through the barrier of time. Her gaze hooks into your soul and invites you to step closer, to look harder. The longer you stare, the higher the gooseflesh on your skin raises in alarm. It’s an uphill battle to slide your gaze over to the picture beside her, which displays the likeness of a young boy close to her in age – presumably unrelated to her, given their distinct features, and yet, he is placed next to her on what is surely a memorial altar meant to honor and house the deceased.

While the personal effects and other supplicating items have all been disrupted and thrown off by your collision, the incense in front of the two picture frames still burns brightly, steadfastly. Oddly, it does nothing to quell the horrid stench of decay in the apartment. If anything, the altar seems to be exasperating the smell, which brings involuntary tears to your eyes and a pucker to your lips.

It's less so that the stench itself is what drives you to such a reaction; rather, the sensation invading your olfactory senses fills you with an abominable concoction of violent emotions: rage, pity, sorrow, envy, despair. You are drawn follow the source of these feelings, and your feet lead you to the bedroom, hands trembling underneath the sheer weight of all that you are experiencing as they push the slightly ajar door all the way open.

A gasp escapes you, unbidden. There, in that same, white futon adorned with layers and layers of her signature floral blankets, lies the corpse of Granny Orimoto. You can tell she’s dead because her skin has started to sag and bloat in strange and inhuman ways. This is the least surprising thing before your eyes.

Next to Granny sits a little girl – the spitting image of the girl in the portrait you’d glimpsed mere moments ago. Her gaze had once been trained steadfastly on Granny’s body, but now she looks up at you, unblinking, all-seeing.

“Hello,” says the girl, with a little girl’s voice.

“Hi,” you respond. “Do you live here?”

“Yes,” says the girl. “This is my granny.”

You remind me of my granddaughter.

She’s dead.

Granny Orimoto’s parting words to you echo in your head, rattling your brain, fizzling your consciousness.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rika. Granny Orimoto told me about you.”

Slowly, cautiously, as though you are approaching a spooked animal (ironic, given the fact that it is you who is shaking like a leaf), you crouch down and kneel on the floor, sitting on your haunches in a polite manner, mirroring the girl before you. Granny Orimoto’s body is the only thing separating you as you both sit, face to face, hands clasped in your laps, peering curiously at one another.

“I know,” says Rika. “Yuuta told you about me, too.”

Of course she would know about the conversations you and Yuuta have. This also might as well happen. At this point, after all you’ve just witnessed – first, the fresh corpse of your former employer, and now, the physical manifestation of a girl who died over ten years ago – there is very little left that could happen which would truly shock you out of your wits.

“Yes, he did. Have you been hanging out in the shop? Have you been lonely?”

The girl sticks out her bottom lip. “Yeah. You guys didn’t pay attention to me. Even when I was really loud, or turned the lights off, or broke the mirror. Sorry for breaking the mirror. I was mad.”

“It’s okay to be mad, but we mustn’t break things, or hurt others. I’m sorry for not noticing you sooner. Do you like plants and gardening? Like your granny?”

Rika nods. “Mhm, yeah. But Granny never lets me into the shop. Granny says all I do is mess things up. Granny says I’m no good. Granny says people died because of me. Did you know my dad is dead, too?”

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“It’s okay,” says Rika. “I wanted him to die.”

You blink. “Did you want Granny Orimoto to die, too?”

She takes a moment to contemplate before answering. “Granny had to die if I was going to play with Yuuta again.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, desperate to understand. When she begins to explain, you lean forward, forgetful of the fact that it is an old woman’s corpse which lies beneath you.

“Granny has already lived for so long. I wanted to come back. I died before my seventh birthday. Yuuta and I were supposed to spend it together. Yuuta never forgot about me. Yuuta talks to me every day. Yuuta went to Africa. Have you ever been to Africa? I went with Yuuta because he made a shrine for me there. Now Yuuta is back in Japan. Yuuta promised that we would play together again. Yuuta said he needed some time to prepare things. Yuuta is good at things like that – Yuuta can fight and do magic. Yuuta does jujutsu. Do you know jujutsu?”

“I know it,” you tell her.

“Yeah, Yuuta has powers. Yuuta knows a lot about dying and things like that. So, anyways, Yuuta said he would use his powers to help me come back so we can play together again. Yuuta said that me and granny have to switch places. I said ‘OK, Yuuta!’ and then Yuuta said he needed seven days. What day is it today?”

Somehow, you know the answer, even without looking at your phone’s calendar. “Monday.”

“Oh, so it’s been seven days. Yay! We can play together again. Do you want to play with us, too?”

“I would like to play together, yes.”

Abruptly, Rika unfurls from her graceful little seated position and makes her way over to you, crawling over Granny Orimoto’s corpse. You try not to think too hard about the graphic squelching that occurs underneath the childish palms of Rika’s tiny hands.

“Yay! Let’s go downstairs. Maybe Yuuta will be there.”

You don’t have the heart to tell her that Yuuta only swings by when the sun is out of sight. Her arms raise, clearly indicating that she’d like to be carried, and you are content to oblige her, as you scoop her up in your arms and make good on her direction. You exit Granny Orimoto’s apartment with Rika in your arms, her little feet dangling from your hip. The bright pink pair of slippers almost fall off as you make your way down the stairs, and you take care to remind her to make sure not to lose them.

When you get back to the shop, you must admit that you were mistaken in thinking Yuuta would not be there. As though he’d been anticipating this – which, you realize, he absolutely was, as this marks seven days from the first time he’d set foot in the shop – Yuuta stands by the front desk, wringing his hands before him nervously, sweat visible at his temples.

The both of you lock eyes, and he smiles, warm and fuzzy and entirely ill-fitting for the increasingly absurd scenario in which you find yourself. But you have little time to interrogate him about what the hell is going on – for Rika leaps from your arms and hits the ground running, screaming at the top of her little lungs, Yuuta!! Yuuta!!!, excited and so full of life, in only the way that children can scream in pure joy. Pure love.

He crouches and readily meets her, scooping the little girl up in his arms and sweeping her into the air, spinning round and round with Rika in his arms. Rika-chan!! Rika-chan!!! he cries – literally cries, that is, as you cannot help but spot the stray tear or two running down the swells of his flushed cheeks.

It is right as you are starting to feel a bit voyeuristic that Yuuta slows to a stop and finds your eyes once more. He comes to you, then, with Rika still perched on his hip, a chafingly tender smile splitting his face into two.

“I knew it was you,” he whispers with charged intensity, voice potent with unspoken feeling. “I knew you were special. I’ve always known. You never judge me. You always listen. You accepted me. And you accepted Rika, too.”

Have you? Accepted them, that is.

You shock yourself when you realize that you really have accepted all that’s transpired. Granny Orimoto saved your life when she’d taken you in and, for that, you must always be grateful. But from what Rika shared with you about how she’d been treated as a small child, and from what you’ve observed from Yuuta’s generally traumatized disposition and extreme reluctance to come face-to-face with the old woman, you realize, now, that there is a reason why Granny Orimoto had no living family to speak to or rely on when she was in her final days.

Whether or not her death had something to do with Yuuta’s apparent preternatural abilities (you remind yourself to ask about that later), it remains clear that she’d been in ill health long before you’d arrived at the flower shop. With no one to talk to. No one to care for her. You’d always felt pity. But, now, you realize that it may have been a situation of her own doing.

How could you argue with the living, breathing testament to that fact, who stand before you in fresh-faced, smiling glee?

“Of course I accept you both,” you say, earnestly, and mean it. “Rika is too cute not to love!” The young girl giggles, bashfully burying her face in Yuuta’s neck.

“And what about me?” Yuuta’s brows are quirked, his smile dipping into something a bit more cutting, a touch more heated than his simple joy from moments ago. “Am I cute enough to love, too?”

The answer is simple and requires no effort on your part: “I love you, Yuuta.”

You had more to say after that, but it proves a bit challenging to monologue your undying devotion to this man while said man is currently enveloping your mouth inside of his own. He kisses like a black hole: devouring, dark, impossibly comprehensive, and providing you without hope for possible escape.

He really is your type.

;

After those first seven days, Yuuta finally begins training at the shop. And Rika joins in, as well.

The three of you make an odd, adorable little family unit. After Yuuta had taken care of cleaning and renovating the apartment space upstairs, the three of you moved in without further delay. Your days are filled with home-cooking, raising Rika, maintaining the shop, and working alongside the man who has quickly made himself to be your life partner in every endeavor.

In fact, so much of your life is consumed with this newfound domesticity that there is little reason for you to leave the shop in the first place. Whenever you stray too far outside, you are prone to headaches, dizziness, fatigue, and even fever. It’s best to stay where is familiar, you reason. And Yuuta’s cooking is too good for you to want to eat anywhere else. He makes sure you eat three times a day, at least, and insists you finish your plate every time. Perhaps this is why you can’t stand life outside of this four, cozy walls – where else could you possibly find contentment such as this?

The business is re-named to “Rika’s Flower Shop,” which all three of you find quite agreeable given the current state of affairs. More customers than ever flow in, attracted by the colorful designs hand-painted by Rika herself on the building exterior. You generate enough revenue for additional renovations to be made on the shop. There is enough room in the budget to hire some part-time shop hands – local university students in the area looking to support themselves.

Everything is coming to fruition. For once, you truly feel as though life is blossoming.

And you can attribute all of it, every last bit of happiness, to them: Granny Orimoto, Rika, and Yuuta. The happiness is so overwhelming that you don’t ever want to leave their side, not even to run to the konbini, or to visit the post office. Why would you need to leave, when everything you’ve ever wanted is right here?

You have a family, a home, a life. You’ll remain in this shop with your loves until the day you grow as old and sickly as Granny Orimoto, and you’ll likely die upstairs, lying next to Yuuta, the both of you wrinkled and gray, curled together atop the futon, exactly where Granny had wheezed her last, bitter breath.

You wonder if Rika was there to watch it happen. You wonder if Rika will be there to see the both of you off, too.

You hope so. You really, really hope so.

You’re sure death will be every bit the dream you’re hoping it will be.

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