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ataraxiaspainting · 3 months ago

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Morningstar's Road.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan.

Synopsis: Your routine is average, to say the least. But due to Chrollo’s orders, Feitan cannot snatch you up yet – so he simply mirrors your behaviors instead for self-satisfaction. His boss does so too.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, kidnapping, a few suggestive actions, manipulation, some descriptions anxiety/depression for the reader, animal death, and violence/some gore.

Word Count: 4.4k.

*~*~*~*

Feitan is so close to you that he can just about hear your beating heart. He could only see the back of your head, hair loose and surely will be knotted by the morning sun, but he can smell you whenever he is this close.

You always smell so nice, but for some reason, you smell even better – of that floral-scented oil you put on your neck and wrists before you go to bed. Maybe you added extra because it is the weekend.

You are on your right side – the fetal position was always your favorite – and hugging a plush that resembles your childhood cat. This was typical behavior for you; you had cried for days when your older sister called to say he had passed from old age. You weren’t weeping anymore, but you were when you saw the stuffed animal near the window of that dollar store you pass by daily on your way to work. You named it Silky, the same as the real thing, and tuck it in whenever you are in and out of bed. Feitan somewhat wished he could get the same treatment, to be in your arms as you sleep and to feel just a hint of your comforting warmth.

Feitan brought his own blanket.

It isn’t pastel pink like your sheets or your pillowcases or your pajamas and it has holes from moths and years of being stretched as he grew and his fights came to have higher and higher stakes.

If he had recalled correctly the bloodstains from the first time he was stabbed were just under the giant white skull pattern, although since most of the blanket is black it wouldn’t show even in the brightest of lights.

If he had recalled correctly the bloodstains from the first time it was stolen are still there too; on the bottom right corner.

“This type of nen won’t last forever, Fei.”

Feitan turns his neck, his bandana doing little to hide the slight scowl on his face. “I know.”

“Now, now… I never said you did not.” Chrollo responds while giving a small smile, still having the Bandit’s Secret in his right hand while your diary is held in his left. He turns to the next page while Feitan goes back to snuggling up beside you.

If Chrollo had a third arm, he could have the rest of your coffee you didn’t finish and left in your fridge. There is a lipstick stain, the color of that tint you often sport when in your office space. A light taffy color, he muses.

Very fitting.

“I simply wanted you not to fall asleep too slow or too deep, we do have to leave by dawn after all.”

Feitan said no answer. Chrollo is used to that – a little too used to it, maybe, but Feitan has always stood out from fellow people from Meteor City even by the Phantom Troupe’s standards.

“Same oil?” He asks, and on cue, Feitan gives a loud sniffing sound.

“Yes.”

“Cute.”

Around your waist Feitan’s left arm lays, and his right hand holds the blanket tighter than a noose.

If Chrollo were to guess, if Feitan had a third arm he would put two of its fingers on your lips to feel how soft they were. Chrollo had done so before, but his friend hadn’t. He almost chuckles at the irony. The member of the Troupe the most intimate when it comes to matters of anatomy and torture felt that his fingertips having pink on them was a line he could not cross. It’s almost funny in a way. It’s adorable.

“Boss.”

“Hm?”

“For just a while,” Feitan starts. His tone is shy, like a little boy about to ask his classmate crush for their hand in marriage. “Can you read it to me?”

“‘It’?” Chrollo teases slightly, yet he knows what Feitan is talking about.

“The thing in your hand.”

“‘Thing’?”

Feitan huffs a bit and follows it up with a sigh.

“The… diary. Please.”

*~*~*~*

I think I’m getting worse and wondering if I have ever been happy with myself.

There is this girl that sits at the desk across from mine, Lyra is her name, and I don’t hate her by any means.

I just wish I was her, you know? She gets along with everyone in our office, Her hair is always nice. She has only been here since February and has already been promoted to the status it took me three years to get.

Don’t get me wrong, she is incredibly nice and I always have a few laughs with her from time to time. Maybe it’s just my insecurities getting to me.

I wonder if sometimes she has similar thoughts when with other people, or even me if that were possible. I know she has a habit of procrastination and has a record of not handing in her work until a few days or weeks later – those are qualities I don’t have, but maybe she doesn’t feel anything negative about herself.

I’m known as the quiet and sweet girl at my job.

I’ve always had a bone to pick with the title, in a way. All my life that is what I was labeled as. People come to me for advice, and it does make me feel good, but I wish I could be a jokester like Lyra too.

That’s all I have… at least for now, I guess. I’m going to drink tea with honey and go to bed.

May 8th

*~*~*~*

The duo entered through the front door this time. You were gone tonight, as evidenced by the messy pile of umbrellas and house shoes that flooded the entrance, so they could break in without much sneaking around. They know where you headed to – and for now, Chrollo orders Feitan not to slit the man’s throat and gouge out his eyes. Your boyfriend, the only one of your past romantic interests not yet dead. Francis.

He’s quite the simple fellow as Chrollo had noted. Feitan was only focusing on where his organs started and ended when they both saw you with him near midnight months before.

“Not yet.”

Chrollo turns his head and looks down at Feitan as they walk down the hall.

“I know you’re still thinking about it, but your actions may cause our plan to fail.”

No verbal response, though Chrollo notices how Feitan’s steps get slightly louder.

“Fine.”

“Are you saying you’re fine? Or are you still agreeing to not go haywire on the man yet?”

“New one.”

“Hm?”

“New word.” Feitan’s nails retract slightly from your walls as he rolls his eyes. “Hay… wire.”

His hand stops at a photo of your dead cat framed on the wall – he’s a kitten in this one, with his first collar and teenager you hugging him – but your face is cropped out.

He moves the hand away from it for just a few steps. Chrollo finds it polite of him – as polite as Feitan can be with others, anyway.

At the same time, they consider bringing the photos you took off your walls and onto whatever penthouse walls Chrollo has rented out for the next few months or so. It would be cute seeing smiling pictures of you all over, especially since you’ll be switching locations soon enough, and in turn, that expression will soon enough become rare.

But when Chrollo thinks about the idea further, a problem arises. Your photos aren’t focused on you. They’re focused on your friends and family. You are always in the corner or hidden behind someone else. It’s of your own volition. Chrollo is sure of it. Perhaps he can get Shalnark to work his magic on them and ignore the teasing. Feitan would do nothing more than threaten to bash in his teeth, as with friends he is nothing more than a ‘grumpy wet cat’ – those are Shalnark and Uvogin’s own words. Not Chrollo’s.

“No.”

“Hm?”

“I’ll cut ‘em,” Feitan suggests while putting his sharp nails on your bedroom’s door frame.

“How do you intend to do so when there’s near nothing to cut out?” Chrollo asks. Feitan goes silent until he sits on your bed.

It’s still unmade. You must have ignored that chore list of yours again and opted to work extra hours instead.

Chrollo sits down at the small part of your room that is clean; your desk. It’s mainly used for just reading and video games, hence why the only two things not neatly in piles are a book and your computer. Shalnark told them both the password, but neither of them had decided to tread into that territory for multiple reasons. Firstly, neither of them knows a single thing about the internet and simulations. Secondly, Shalnark can just get whatever information they need without them looking inside it themselves anyway. Thirdly, they already know you enjoy wholesome things on there – the opposite of what you’re reading, if the books on your unfinished read pile mean anything to Chrollo – so there is no point in venturing for unneeded facts about you.

You’ll surely tell them yourself one day.

Eventually. In maybe weeks. Months. Years.

Eventually.

It’ll feel like forever and a day if you decide not to talk to either of them. Chrollo and Feitan have agreed without any argument that if you want something, you will ask them. Nicely, of course.

Broken fingers aren’t necessarily something people flaunt.

You wouldn’t brag about being forced onto a lap for hours out on a balcony either.

You’ll eventually tell them. You have to. For your sake.

Eventually. Nothing lasts forever, after all.

“Fei. I promise you that this will be worth the wait.”

Feitan shakes his head, scoffing. “Will it? It would have been easier to just grab her and run.”

“I know,” Chrollo leans in a little, putting his elbows on his thighs. “I know. But you’ll lament it. I would have too if I had agreed with you to go down that route.”

A stare is the response.

It isn’t anger, Chrollo knows that much.

No.

In all the years Chrollo has known Feitan, Feitan has never gone back on his loyalty to him and the Troupe.

But. But.

Chrollo hasn’t ever seen him have such a concurrence when there is still such division in his eyes.

“Are you sad?” He asks.

“No,” Feitan replies, looking at your cat plush instead of his leader of the full moon outside.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

*~*~*~*

Francis lives outside the city in a farmhouse. It’s up a tall hill with no pathway aside from little rectangular stones here and there – and if you ignore the animals and their housing, people would think that the place is deserted.

Feitan and Chrollo make their way to the white picket fence surrounding the chicken coop. They continue to bite down into the soil for worms or leftover grain. All female. Only three were brown; the others were smaller in frame and white.

“I’ve heard his eggs go for high prices in markets,” Chrollo grins a little. “Maybe I’ll raise some chickens of my own in my later years.”

Feitan raises an eyebrow at him.

“I was joking, Fei.” He clarifies.

“Ah.”

Feitan continues to walk with his hands still stuffed into his coat pockets.

Chrollo looks at the farmhouse up at the top of the hillside. The lights are still on, meaning you were most likely still up and about in there.

The rooster resting on top of the mailbox makes eye contact with him for a few moments.

“Don’t scream,” Chrollo murmurs, his words sweet as sugar.

“What?” Feitan asks, not even bothering to turn around.

“I’m talking to the rooster.”

“[First]’s rubbing off on you too much.” His friend rolls his eyes and makes sure not to step on a twig.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed how these animals look at us.”

“They’re animals now. What came before… that doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Maybe to you – but I find it intriguing.”

“Talk later,” Putting his hand on the fence gate that leads to Francis’ garden, Feitan turns his head for just a moment. “Near. Quiet. Look.”

For once, Chrollo is the one that does the nodding.

The gate gives off a little squeak as it is opened. It reminds them of Francis’ prized pet pig Annie – though she is only allowed to be inside.

There are all sorts of vegetables and some fruits back here. Cucumbers, chili peppers, watermelons, corn, tomatoes, peaches, pears. They’re all in pristine condition, and so are the flowers growing in pots near the far-off window sills.

Feitan considers giving you the daisies.

Chrollo considers giving you the marigolds.

They both look at the pig’s head hastily buried under the soil, her ears still popping out and facing the moon. Despite the interment being new, perhaps even being dug today, flies have already spread to the top part of the head and ears. They’re happy you didn’t see her because that would be quite an awful gift from your boyfriend.

Francis is probably happy too, not that they care.

From what Shalnark was able to gather from someone who barely has any social life, Francis moved here from another country about four years ago. He acquired this farm and its land almost immediately afterward.

From a lottery, Shalnark had explained to them. Or an inheritance. Either way, man’s life is going pretty dang good. Too good, actually, because my senses are tingling too much.

Shalnark was right in that regard. Francis may adopt animals from time to time from farmers’ markets, but a majority of them suddenly appear a few days or weeks apart. There were three white chickens he had purchased. Then after a month or so, there were twelve. The three brown ones came all at once one day.

“Where’s Annie?” They hear you ask as you open one of the windows to get some fresh air. “She usually runs to the door to see me…”

Using hatsu to conceal their presence, the pair aren’t detected among the plants.

“She ran away.”

Feitan almost snickers at your boyfriend’s answer, looking down at the flies and corpse rotting beneath his feet. He didn’t mind the smell of rotting flesh – he has almost always enjoyed it since he was in his teenage years.

Chrollo’s feet don’t dig into the soil – he has opted to instead stand on the few pieces of stone that are by the cucumber plants. He makes a note to go to the laundromat after this; even though it has already been the third time in a row this week alone.

If he can convince Feitan, they’ll steal some things from your place to wash up too – Francis has always been touchy, after all.

“That’s weird,” You say worriedly, not looking into the garden anymore but instead inside; to Annie’s little bed huddled next to the window. “Did you leave the gate open?”

“Yes, I’m still rather upset about it but I’m sure she’ll be found soon.”

Soon. Chrollo grins a bit as he closes his eyes, imagining the moment he’ll save you from this man. Soon isn’t enough. No. This…

This is the moment.

This is the day.

This is the time.

“Feitan.”

“Hm?”

Francis will die today. Or tomorrow maybe, Chrollo isn’t completely sure.

“Don’t make it too bloody,” He instructs, getting off the stones and onto the dirty tiles of the garden’s path to the back door. “I’ll focus on her. We’ll leave the others alone.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you, Feitan.”

Feitan looks confused for a moment. If Chrollo were someone who hadn’t grown up beside him, he wouldn’t have noticed the small millisecond of his friend showing emotion. ‘For what?’ He wants to ask.

Chrollo knows it. He knows it so he answers the silent question. “For being more vulnerable with her and I. [First] seems to have rubbed off on you too much too, huh?”

“I don’t like your jokes,” Feitan replies as he stuffs his pockets even more – perhaps to hide his balled-up fists. Whether they were made from the hatred of Francis or the annoyance of everything else is up to interpretation. No one will be getting an answer anyway, even Feitan himself. “You’re very happy lately.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Chrollo’s grin widens just a smidge more. “We’re about to rescue a princess.”

From that look, he knows Feitan agrees with his reasoning and is happy as well.

*~*~*~*

“You’re beautiful, darling.”

You’re laid out on Francis’ bed. It’s rather large for a room this size, but it is comfortable to undress on. You picked a periwinkle blue dress today with buttons on only its top front side. Francis wanted to help but you declined. You don’t decline a lot of things, especially when it comes to him. Francis is annoyed by that but he tries not to let it show. He hides a lot of things from you.

“Thank you.” You sheepishly smile, a light flush on your cheeks as you start to undo your buttons.

“Of course,” You’re his favorite by far. You aren’t stuck up or are with him just for his money. You’re so nice to him. You’re so sweet to him. “I wouldn’t lie to you, honey.”

You aren’t like those whores, those sluts, those fucking cheap little bitches.

“I’ll take it slow since it’s your first time and all.” He promises.

You look up at him.

Your frown is just barely noticeable – but noticeable enough for him to see.

“What’s wrong?” Francis asks.

“Lyra’s still missing… I’m worried.”

“Why?” Francis asks, getting more annoyed the more time you spend covered up. “Why are you so worried about her right now? It’s not the time for that.”

“I don’t know,” You look at the open window, cool air still blowing in along with the slight scent of flowers. “I really don’t, I just… have suddenly gotten a little sad just now.”

You’re shivering a little.

“Ah, you must be cold.” He deflects. Having only his shirt on now, he walks up to the windowsill and looks at the vegetable patch. With both hands, he pulls the window closed. “Better?”

You must not have heard him, because you keep playing with your buttons instead of being fully undressed already.

“Could you…”

Ah. You did hear him, but you seem concerned for something else. That’s fine, as long as you aren’t playing with him and will soon attempt to run away.

“Close the curtain? Please? I’d really… appreciate it.”

“Sure,” Francis replies, his smile returning to his face. “Anything for you. Just get comfortable, pumpkin.”

The wicked thing came all at once before either of you could blink. Shards of glass flew into Francis and into the bedroom walls. Francis screams as his bleeding hands are quick to go to his eyes, his fingers attempting to get the glass shards out of them before his vision is gone for good. In front of you was a stranger in a suit – he pushed you out of the way in a fraction of a second and onto the floor. The bed had shielded you and him.

“Are you alright?”

You’re too shocked for words, peeking from behind the bed to where Francis is still screaming.

In front of him was a man in all black stepping on the back of his head with one of his feet. The soles of his boots seemed lodged into Francis’ scalp, and it takes you a moment to realize why. There were spikes on them; not that you could see them much because of how hidden they seemed to be right now. They’re silver judging by the color of their slight sparkle, but the rusted kind. No. Maybe that’s just the bloodstains.

The feeling in your chest is so horrible like you’re very sick. There’s pressure on your heart. It’s strangling you, despite the taller stranger’s grasp on your shoulders being so pleasant. So tender.

“What are you doing?” You screech. The sound doesn’t make either of the intruders flinch. Francis does instead. “Let go of him!”

The shorter man doesn’t look at you, opting to wedge the spikes of his shoes further into Francis’ brain. You try to get up but the man in the suit pulls you back down, shushing you as you protest and cry. “Don’t… it’ll be over soon. I told him to be gentle, you see.”

“Gentle?” You repeat.

“Yes, my dear.” One of his hands rises from your shoulders to where your eyes are. You struggle some more and the stranger whispers something in your ear. “Behave – I can always tell Feitan to torture him the amount he deserves if I wanted to. I know he wants to.”

You deflate and your eyes are forced shut by his palm. “Please stop… I don’t know what we did, just please-”

“You didn’t do anything,” The other man – Feitan if the taller man had named him right and he wasn’t just some assassin he hired; he said his name so tenderly too like he is an old friend – interrupts you. “He did.”

You feel like you’re about to throw up all the wonderful food you just ate. Chicken pot pie, beef tenderloin, roasted pork belly – it all feels like it is about to release from your throat and onto the wooden planked floor below.

“Oh dear,” Another hand covers your nose and mouth. Instead of blood you now smell cologne – sandalwood and amber. “Can you please hurry up, Fei? She looks like she’s about to collapse.”

*~*~*~*

“It’s a wonderful time to be alive,” Chrollo says as he puts the key into his car’s lock. It’s embedded with little multicolored jewels – he had commissioned some artist to customize it for him a week or so ago while Feitan went into your home on his own. “Or at least a wonderful night. Wouldn’t you say so?”

You’re in the passenger seat. You fell unconscious after Francis’ barely alive body got its fingers broken one by one. Some of his blood got on your skirt, but Chrollo is sure that the laundromat will fix that just like the workers will fix his clothes. As long as he pays them enough or threatens them enough. The latter would be more fun for Feitan but the former would let him be seen as a kind patron. Whichever way the coin flips.

He doesn’t blame you for fainting. If he hadn’t been born in Meteor City and hadn’t been raised in a constant state of fear and a constant battle for power over others, he would most likely do the same.

Feitan is in the back, silent. His hands now have gloves on them and are now brushing through your hair.

“Should we make the pit stop or go straight?” After the second question, the car’s lights turn on.

“Bed.”

The car starts moving into the barren street.

“Alright,” Chrollo chuckles a little at the insistence in Feitan’s tone. “We can get some of [First]’s clothes tomorrow then. She’ll probably sleep throughout the day.”

He doesn’t explain why because they both already know the reason. There is a short chain attached to the main bed. Depending on your behavior early on, it will either lengthen or become briefer.

There are also some syringes in the mirror vanity that Feitan asked him over and over to keep in case of an emergency. He doubts there will be any real threat where they would have to use them.

Feitan doesn’t. Feitan doesn’t doubt many things.

“Blankets too.”

Feitan doesn’t ask for many things either, much less demand them.

“Ah,” Chrollo makes the left turn as his fingers tap on the steering wheel. It’s a song you enjoy listening to on your avenue home. He knows you aren’t listening to it but that doesn’t matter right now. He’ll continue to do so until your mind associates the tune with small controlled adventures to and fro and not you having a life of your own. “All of them?”

“Yes. Please.”

“You don’t say that word very often,” He teases, looking at the flat glass mirror overhead.

“Hmph.”

Putting his hand on your thigh, Chrollo continues to drive while still glancing upward now and then.

*~*~*~*

Your heartbeat has calmed down. Feitan is now able to look at your face as you sleep.

You look at peace now. When he had placed you on the bed, your eyebrows furrowed for a moment – perhaps your subconscious being afraid – or disgusted – by him.

The flowery scent of your perfume vanished long ago and has been replaced by a stinging one. Feitan doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind a lot of things when it comes to you.

Unlike the bodies of those who have died by his hands, Feitan places the white blanket on top of you gently like you would shatter if he was just a tad bit rougher.

Well… Body bags don’t really count as blankets, do they? They are meant to be ripped open and stuffed full of parts no wandering soul hopes to find.

Chrollo decides to break the silence. “After she adjusts a little, we’ll leave. Or you can stay if you want. I can carry her things on my own.”

Feitan turns to look at him.

“Pictures.”

Chrollo sighs. “Alright. But we’ll get Shal to edit them. No cutting.”

“...Tch. Fine. Silky too.” A thumb is pressed against your lips. After it is lifted, there is a light pink that covers its print.

“It’s a pretty color, isn’t it?” Chrollo muses, hanging his suit jacket on the edge of his sofa as he holds his book. “I’ll try to get the same shade for her when she runs out of it. Though I suspect it will be a while before then, huh?”

“It’s fine,” Feitan states, rubbing his thumb against your lips more. “She will always be pretty to me.”

“Never took you for the romantic type, Fei.”

“Hmph.”

253 notes · View notes

nochukoo97 · 1 year ago

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nevertheless;

pairing: bestfriend!jungkook x reader

summary: jungkook has a hard time showing how much he really does care for you, but at the same time you can’t help but convince yourself your best friend will never love you back the same way you do, or will he?

word count: 5k+

teaser

“Stay here,” You command Jungkook, who’s currently pouting a little too dramatically as he sulks on the bench.

“Don’t move,” You look back, giving him a stern gaze as you make your way to get the first aid kit near the soccer field.

Jungkook had been roughhousing with his teammates, they had been play-wrestling on the soccer field for a good half an hour, not before someone actually got hurt.

And that someone was your best friend, Jeon Jungkook.

So now you have the duty to patch up the guy, who had been insisting his bleeding cut would magically heal on its own.

You refuse to leave it untreated.

When you jog back to where Jungkook was waiting, you spot him crouched near the patch of grass, a few steps away from the bench you had instructed him to sit on.

“Yah! Are you a puppy or something? I told you to sit still!” You scold him, and he quickly whips his head around and frowns,

“I only took like three steps away! I swear I sat there for really long, just got distracted,” He’s whining, sitting back on the bench as he gives you those innocent puppy eyes.

It’s on purpose, to make you stop nagging at him.

“Don’t trick me into not scolding you,” You flick his forehead gently, “What if you fell and hurt yourself again, huh?”

Jungkook scoffs, “Yah, I’m not that fragile, in fact, it’ll probably be you who would be falling,”

He crosses his arms, looking away from you.

“Okay, then fix yourself up,” You shove the first aid kit into his crossed arms, forcing him to quickly catch it before it falls onto the ground.

Jungkook settles the box next to him before dramatically clutching his cheek.

“Ahh” He hisses, eyebrows furrowing as he touches the bleeding cut on his cheek.

“Yah! Don’t touch it! You’ll get it infected! Aish-” You sigh, swatting his hand away as he looks back up at you with those eyes again.

“Fine, fine,” You shake your head at the boy looking up at you, “Stay still,”

Jungkook’s eyes never leave your face the whole time you clean up his cut, even when the alcohol stung his cut, causing him to hiss and grab onto your smaller hand, his eyes never left your pretty face.

He notices the glow on your face from the spot light above the soccer field, your lips slightly pink from the tinted lip balm you bought when the both of you went to the mall. Your eyelashes look more curled than usual, maybe you used the curler you had bought when you dragged him into the makeup store.

Your eyes are focused on repairing the cut on his face, Jungkook stares right into them in a daze.

“Okay, done,” You whisper to yourself, turning to scan his face, but Jungkook has love struck eyes as he stares back at you.

“Kook,” Your voice snaps him out of his daze.

“Yeah?”

“You’re done,” You pat his shoulder, getting him to stand up.

“Thanks, ___” He smiles sweetly at you, making your heart thump in your chest.

He’s your best friend, you shouldn’t be feeling this way.

Jungkook stands up, his stance now towering over you, as he walks towards the grass patch.

You watch as he bends down, picking up something from the grass and hiding it behind his back as he walks back to you.

“Here’s my thank you gift,” Jungkook grins at you, revealing what he was hiding, a bunch of small flowers that he had plucked while you went to get the first aid kit.

“Oh? Thanks Koo,” You smile, taking the flowers from him.

Jungkook ruffles your hair, before bidding goodbye, telling you to not go home too late.

You stare at the flowers in your hand as you clutch your poor heart, beating way too fast.

Maybe you have a chance with him.

You should definitely not be eavesdropping on this conversation right now, but you can’t help yourself, after all, your name coming from Jungkook’s voice caught your attention.

“Yah, so do you like her?” There’s an unrecognisable voice in a hushed whisper, probably one of Jungkook’s friends

“Nah, she’s my friend,”

Ouch, that fucking hurt.

You could’ve gone about your day not knowing this, yet you’re somewhat happy that you did, or else you would still have the slightest glimpse of hope that he would even like you.

Your heart shattered into a million pieces.

You and Jungkook had made plans to go over to his house today, something you two often did on a weekly basis. Yet with what you heard just now, you seriously did not feel like getting your heart played again.

jungkook: we’re watching that kdrama i told you about later kay

You read his text, before looking up, locking eyes with him from where he was sitting, all the way at the other end of the classroom.

Shit, don’t fall for his antics.

You look back down at your phone, replying:

you: okay

You quickly lock your phone and shove it into your bag before your professor can catch you.

The phone now in your bag vibrates again, Jungkook’s looking at you expectedly, waiting for a reply. Instead, you ignore the buzzing, looking straight at the board filled with math equations.

When the class ends, Jungkook immediately rushes to your table, as the classroom clears, the rest of the students all rushing out to go home.

“Yah, why didn’t you answer my text,” He drags the chair near your table and sits nexts to you, but you don’t even spare him a glance, shrugging as you focus on packing up your stuff.

“Did I do something wrong?” Jungkook frowns, noticing a change in your mood, you obviously were dejected about something, but he simply couldn’t piece it together.

You don’t respond to that, you don’t know what your answer is to that question. Technically he didn’t do anything wrong, he had a choice in his feelings towards you, but he also was the reason why you felt this way.

“I think I’m gonna go home, sorry,” You whisper, not daring to look at him.

“What? Why? Did I make you mad? Or is it Junghyeon?” He’s panicking, you can tell, you feel bad for making him feel as if he had done something wrong, even though he had technically done nothing wrong.

You frown at the name mentioned.

Junghyeon was your ex boyfriend, he had been nasty to you throughout the relationship, and Jungkook had been the one to help you out of it. He had been the one to open your eyes and realise what a shit boyfriend Junghyeon was. Even up to now Jungkook will defend you if Junghyeon talks shit and spreads rumours about you.

Another reason to feel bad for treating Jungkook so differently all of a sudden. Just because of what you heard while eavesdropping. You had no reason to treat him this way, yet it fucking hurt your heart everytime he gave you butterflies, when in your head you’re telling yourself, he doesn’t like you like that.

“It’s nothing Kook, just, I’m gonna head back,” You sigh, swinging your bag over your shoulder, as Jungkook stands up with you, holding your arm.

“Let go,” You struggle against his hold, but he doesn’t let you leave.

“Not until you tell me why you’re being like that,” He shakes his head, eyes filled with concern and panic, he doesn’t know what happened, not a single clue.

“It’s nothing Kook, just let me go,” You almost sneer at him, before running out of the classroom.

Jungkook can only stand there in confusion, his heart aches slightly, but he refuses to give up.

“Jeon, come with us to eat lunch,” He looks up after a moment of silence, realises Mingyu was standing at the entrance, waiting for his reply.

“Nah I’ll pass-“

“Come on Jeon, you haven’t hung out with me for a really long time,” Mingyu wraps his arm around Jungkook’s shoulder, dragging the dejected boy out of the classroom.

Jungkook would much rather be with you right now, finding out what made you so cold all of a sudden, to reconcile whatever happened to make you mad, to cuddle and hug you, to comfort you and hear you laugh and smile again.

Instead, he’s stuck with Mingyu sitting next to him, as Mingyu’s friends shamelessly flirt with him.

He’s frankly sick and tired of having to attend to these girls who he had zero interest in.

Sure they weren’t ugly, but their personalities weren’t the prettiest either.

“So, Jungkookie,” The girl sitting opposite him coos, he frowns at the nickname, he doesn’t even remember her fucking name.

“Do you like girls with short hair or long hair?” She flicks her hair, both girls flirting with him having kind of short hair, shoulder length and a little longer.

“Long hair,” He replies with a monotonous voice, staring blankly at them.

“Oh,”

Jungkook wants to let out a laugh, but he holds himself back.

You’re laying on your bed, sulking and tearing up. You don’t even know why you’re crying over this stupid thing. You didn’t even get rejected, but you did get rejected indirectly by hearing what Jungkook had said to the unknown person.

You open up your phone, going on Instagram in hopes to distract yourself from breaking down, but the first story that you open up just has to be Mirae’s instagram, with a picture of Jungkook and Mingyu on the story.

He’s out with Mirae. He’s not looking at her camera though, both him and Mingyu busy on his phone showing each other something.

But she’s sitting opposite him, it’s practically a date.

Jungkook’s on a date with Mirae, the girl who clearly had a huge crush on him, you concluded.

Great, great fucking great.

You sigh, closing your eyes as tears escape the corners of your eyes.

The next time you wake up, your vision is slightly groggy, as you sit up and rub your eyes, stretching.

The smell of noodles waft into your nose, shit, did you leave the stove on or something?

As you walk out of the room, you halt in your steps.

You recognise the man who has his back faced towards you, cooking in your kitchen, in your apartment.

It’s Jungkook.

“___?” Jungkook calls out, tilting to try to see if you were standing in the hallway.

You quickly run back into the room, shutting the door behind you and climbing back into bed.

What was he doing here?

You should have never given him the password to your apartment.

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest. You can’t fucking hide from him anymore because he’s in your house, why must he play with your heart so much?

When the door to your room creaks open, you quickly duck below your blanket, in a pathetic attempt to make it seem as if you were sleeping.

“___, come on, I heard you in the hallway,” You hear Jungkook’s voice, slightly muffled from you hiding under the covers. You hear him set something down, the smell of noodles stronger than before.

He doesn’t let the small flowers placed on your desk go unnoticed. You kept the flowers he gave you.

Even though it’s childish, you refuse to answer him.

Jungkook pulls down the blanket to reveal your messy hair, the back of your head facing him. You attempt to pull the blanket back up but he’s too strong.

“Come on, don’t be mad at me,” Jungkook tries to convince you to come out of the blanket, but you stubbornly refuse.

He reaches out to card his fingers through your messy hair, but you move away from his touch, whining when his fingers get stuck halfway through a knot.

“Oww,” You’re whining, clutching the area as Jungkook shushes you.

“At least sit up, I’ll help you get rid of it,” He’s really trying everything to get you to talk to him, he will sit here and keep trying forever until you give in.

“No,” Your voice wobbles, eyes watering with frustration. Why was he here, you’re going to get your heart shattered into a million pieces all over again.

“Why’re you being so difficult, hmm?” Jungkook sighs, sitting back and leaving you to curl up into a ball.

“Go away,” You tried to sound angry, but with the tears slowly running down your cheeks, there’s a sob that comes uncontrollably right after.

“Hey, why are you crying?” Jungkook’s face is now full of concern, he manages to untangle you from the blankets, as you struggle against his hold.

“Shh, it’s okay, don’t push me away, my body still hurts from that day,”

Jungkook has your head buried into his chest, you want to punch him, but when he reminds you of that day, when you had gently patched him up, you don’t dare to struggle against him anymore.

You can feel his hand rubbing up and down against your back as you clutch onto his shirt. You can smell his cologne, the one the both of you had picked when you went on a school vacation.

“If you don’t wanna tell me what’s wrong right now that’s okay, just let me take care of you ‘kay?”

You weakly nod, mentally cursing at yourself for foolishly giving up fighting against him.

Jungkook pulls you out of his lap, settling you in between the pillows on your bed and pulling the blanket to cover your body as you sit, waiting for his next move.

He grabs the bowl of noodles placed on your bedside table, picking up a few strands with the chopsticks and blowing on it gently.

Jungkook brings the chopsticks near your mouth, but you keep your mouth shut, refusing to give in to him again.

“I know you didn’t eat dinner, quickly eat now or else you’d have acid reflux like the last time,” You cringe internally remembering how you were hunched over the toilet crying, as he held your hair back, shushing your sobs.

You comply in the end, opening your mouth and letting Jungkook feed you.

“Good girl,” He whispers, using his thumb to swipe away the drop of soup at the corner of your mouth.

Fuck, he’s making you go crazy. Good girl? Does he want you to go insane?

You gulp down the noodles, looking up at him as you make eye contact. Jungkook scans your face, wiping the tear threatening to fall further down your cheek.

“Don’t cry already, come on, let’s put on the show while you eat,”

He reaches for the remote on the other side of the bed, his body hovering over yours for a few seconds before he’s back next to you, eyes trained onto the TV and switching to the mentioned show.

You both watch the show as he slowly feeds you the noodles. You want to tell him it tastes amazing, that you want to kiss him for pampering you despite having treated him so coldly before. You simply just let yourself be taken care of by Jungkook, already anticipating getting your heart broken again when he leaves.

When you finish the bowl of noodles, Jungkook slots himself next to you under the covers, pulling you so that your head was now resting against his chest, both of you watching the show playing on the TV in front of your bed.

You aren’t sure if Jungkook can hear your heart going crazy in your chest but you sure can.

You shouldn’t be doing this, you shouldn’t be cuddling with your best friend who clearly doesn’t like you.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah?” He looks down at you, pausing the show.

“Is this what friends do?”

Jungkook frowns at you, leaning back to look at you properly.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, maybe we shouldn’t be cuddling and all this, we clearly aren’t a couple or anything, and you don’t like me like that, so we shouldn’t-“

Before you can continue, Jungkook’s lips are crashing down on you.

What?

He pulls back, looking straight into your eyes,

“Jungkook, what are you doing?” Your eyes are widened, you haven’t even fully processed what just happened

“Why did you say that? Who said I didn’t like you?” He frowns at you, as if he did not just kiss you in the midst of you talking

Now you’re even more confused, “Don’t lie to me Kook, you don’t have to pretend that you like me just because I do,”

You curse under your breath for letting the last part slip out.

“I’m serious ___, why would you think I don’t?” Jungkook’s shocked, firstly at you admitting you like him back, but more importantly, the fact that you had the audacity to even believe he wasn’t crazy for you.

“I heard you talking to someone and you told them you didn’t like me,”

Jungkook sighs, grabbing your hands in his, “____, of course I wouldn’t tell Yongjae that, I barely know him,”

You slip your hands out of his,

“I think you like Mirae,” You scoff at him

“What?” He’s genuinely confused, the name not being familiar to him

You whip out your phone, showing him the instagram story, your heart clenches a little when you see the photo.

“Oh so that’s her name, why the fuck would she take a photo of me,” He grumbles, grabbing your phone from your hand and screenshotting the story and saving it into your camera roll

“___ I swear I didn’t even know her until today, Mingyu asked me to go out with him and apparently they followed along, I swear I didn’t even know her fucking name, do you know her? Why would she take a picture of me without asking? She was really weird with me you know,”

The whole time he’s rambling on and on, everything was beginning to piece together.

“___, I fucking love you so much, I only said that to Yongjae because I knew he would be a big mouth and tell everyone, and I obviously didn’t want you to find out that way, and I don’t like Mirae at all, in fact, all she did was make me fucking uncomfortable with her horrible flirting skills, I love you, please ____,” Jungkook grabs your hands again, searching your face for a reply.

“Prove it to me then, I’ll give you a chance to show me that you really do love me,” You’re trying your best to hold back from simply just confessing back to him, yet it seemed too good to be true that Jungkook, your best friend, liked you back the same

“I will,” Jungkook nods, but his heart aches internally, he truly did love you so much, it hurt him to know you were hesitating so much

“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook whispers, his face inches away from yours,

“Okay” You whisper back, leaning to lock your lips with his

Maybe everything would turn out okay

jungkook: don’t sleep too late okay? love you ❤️

Just as you closed the front door of your apartment and bid goodbye to Jungkook, of course he had sent you a text immediately.

You find yourself smiling unconsciously at the text, before quickly replying:

you: okay, see you tomorrow :)

Your phone lights up again,

jungkook: i love you

jungkook: you didn’t reply my first ‘love you’ ☹️

You laugh to yourself, replying

you: okay fine, i love you too ❤️

you: so eager to profess your love? 😏

Jungkook immediately types back, he’s standing outside your front door still, hearing your muffled laughter from behind the door.

jungkook: of course, go and sleep, i can see your light is still on

jungkook: don’t miss me too much 😏

You look through the peephole, seeing Jungkook’s tall frame leaning against your door, his hair taking up most of the view from the hole.

you: okay goodnight, stop standing outside my door and go home before it’s too late

You hear Jungkook laugh from outside, before his footsteps begin to get softer as he walks away.

“___, I saw Jungkook leave your apartment last night, what were you doing?” The familiar voice rings from behind you as your arm is being held back.

“Junghyeon, leave me alone, it’s none of your business anymore,” You shake your arm out of his grasp, walking faster towards the entrance of the school, wanting to quickly head home before anything happens

Your ex boyfriend ignores your words, continuing to grab your arm and pull you back from walking further.

You wince from how hard he had tugged your arm, struggling as you pull against his grasp.

“Let go of me,” You grit through your teeth, desperately trying to escape.

“Try and escape, you won’t, you’re too fucking weak and your pretty little boy won’t come here and save you,” He seethes, breath blowing onto your face as you scrunch your face in disgust.

“I’m not telling you shit, you don’t need to dig into my business Junghyeon,” You spit at him, but he only tightens his grip on your arm, making you whimper in pain.

“No! You tell me what the fuck you were doing with him so late at night!” He bangs the locker near you, making you flinch at the loud noise.

“What the fuck are you doing, get your hands off of her,” There’s a very angry voice that rings through the air, as Junghyeon’s grasp on your arm gets released.

It’s Jungkook.

“Fuck off, don’t fucking touch her like that,” Jungkook growls at the man, holding his fist in the air as he grabs Junghyeon’s shirt.

“Who are you to tell me that? YOU should be the one fucking off, she’s probably fucking around with other guys like the slut she is-“

BAAM.

Jungkook punches him in the face, sending Junghyeon flying to the ground, as students start to gather in the hallways, gasping and whispering amongst themselves.

You quickly take Jungkook by the arm, attempting to drag him away from Junghyeon who’s clutching his jaw, wincing in pain on the floor.

“Jungkook, leave him, it’s okay already,” You’re slowly pulling him away as students gather around Junghyeon on the floor.

Jungkook’s panting heavily, you don’t recognise the look in his eyes as he lets himself get dragged away by you, but his eyes don’t leave Junghyeon who’s muttering something as he locks eyes with Jungkook.

“Wait baby, I need to teach that fucker a lesson,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, he reaches back to your arm to gently pull it away, but with the bruise forming on your arm from earlier, you whimper when he touches the hurt area.

Jungkook whips around with concern the moment he hears you wince, flinching from his touch as you hold onto your arm,

“I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry, let me see it,” He gently takes your arm, as you let him inspect the bruise, it was turning purple already, as he frowns.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to beat him up some more, he deserves it, how dare he touch my girlfriend like that,” Jungkook rambles on as he looks back at Junghyeon, who’s getting up from the floor and walking away.

“Kook, no more punching people, you’re going to get into trouble with the discipline mistress already,” You sigh, letting him inspect your bruise closer as he rubs his thumb lightly over it, eyes widening in concern as you wince even with the slightest touch.

Jungkook complies with your words, he would do anything to prove to you he truly did love you, no matter how bad he wanted to punch Junghyeon again.

That day, you wait for Jungkook who’s currently in detention for acting out. He has tried to reason with the discipline mistress but she had given him no leeway. Instead, you decided to wait in the library until your boyfriend was done with his detention, focusing on doing your work as you wait.

On the other hand, Jungkook was making love letters throughout his detention, the discipline mistress sighing every time she checked up on him and Junghyeon who were sitting at opposite ends in the class.

“Jungkook-ah, you had the right intention for wanting to stand up for ___, but you should know violence is never the answer, no matter how much you like the person,”

He frowns at the discipline mistress’ words, “I’m sorry Ma’am, I promise I won’t punch anyone, but I don’t just like her, I love her,” He sighs, writing more words into the pink paper he had folded into hearts.

She can only sigh at the love sick Jungkook, Junghyeon glaring right at him from the other end of the class.

“Oh! You gave me a shock!” You gasp quietly as Jungkook slides into the chair next to you, you check your phone, noticing it had already been 6pm long ago, meaning Jungkook was done with his detention for quite a long time.

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” Jungkook gestures to your phone, as you notice the notifications from him:

jungkook: im done with my detention

jungkook: i learnt my lesson i promise 🙃 which part of the library are you at?

“Oh sorry Koo, I was so focused on my work I didn’t notice,” You sweep a strand of hair covering his eyes.

“I searched high and low for you, I cleared out two whole floors of the library before I found you here,” He groans, sulking into the seat.

You laugh quietly, finding it endearing.

Jungkook was really making his way to your heart.

“Oh! I have this for you I made while waiting,” He reaches into his jacket pocket and fishes out the pink paper folded into a heart shape, placing it into your hands.

“Oh? You did this in detention?” You smile at him, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

He was being fucking cute, writing you a love letter while being in detention, you wanted to kiss him right there and then.

“Yeah, missed you and thought about you so much, now quickly open it,” He gestures for you to unfold the paper, as you comply

You read the small handwriting squished together to fit into the small piece of paper:

____, I’m writing this in detention as I was told to reflect on my actions so I thought I should write this to you to show you how much I love you ❤️ When you began to act cold towards me that day, my heart shattered into a million pieces, I wanted to just wrap you up and protect you from whoever was hurting you. I didn’t know that you had thought it was me who didn’t like you more than a friend, it hurt me to see you cry and push me away like that. I just love you so fucking much, I want you to believe my words, because you mean the world to me, no matter how we would have ended up if I had confessed to you earlier, or if you had confessed to me first, or if we never got jealous of each other, I would love you nevertheless.

You’re giggling to yourself as you finish reading the letter, folding it back and keeping it in your pocket.

“Yah! Don’t laugh at my love confession,” Jungkook pouts dramatically, whining softly as he sulks into the chair next to you

“I’m laughing because I find it cute baby, do you want your kiss or not?” You giggle as he lights up, sitting up quickly and kissing you.

You happily kiss him back, you put your arms around his neck as he deepens the kiss. Jungkook is on cloud nine.

Not before you both get interrupted by another student who’s sitting opposite you, clearing his throat.

You quickly pack up your stuff and you and Jungkook head out of the library, not wanting to get caught again.

The next day, you’re in the canteen sitting with your friends, as you make eye contact with Jungkook, who now proudly proclaims as your boyfriend. He sends you a quick smile before turning back to Mingyu who’s talking.

You look down as your phone lits up,

boyfriend ❤️: like my new contact name?

You gasp, whipping your head up at Jungkook who’s smiling at you mischeviously, you quickly reply back:

you: yah! when did you do that!!!!

you: its cute though, miss you already

You shut off your phone before your friends catch you.

The phone next to you lits up again,

boyfriend ❤️: come here and kiss me then

You roll your eyes at him, going back to your conversation with your friends.

The next thing you know, Yeji stops talking as she nods behind you, telling you to turn around.

“Hi baby,” Jungkook’s smiling down at you as he leans down to peck your lips.

The whole table gasps, making the rest of the canteen turn their heads to see what was going on

“Kook!” You slap his chest, burying your face into your hands in embarrassment.

“He was looking, had to show him who’s the boss,” Jungkook whispers into your ear as he smirks at you, you tsk at his expression

He laughs at you, ruffling your hair before running back to his table.

“Oh my gosh, why didn’t you tell me?” Yeji shakes your hand in hers, your friends obviously taken aback by the current situation.

“It happened recently, I swear I was going to tell you,” You groan, trying to keep their reactions down so that people will stop staring your way.

“Baby, you want this?” Jungkook gestures towards the huge stuffed toy puppy hanging from the booth

“Are you sure you can get that? It’s pretty hard y’know,” You laugh, nudging your boyfriend playfully in the chest.

“Hey! I’m an expert at carnival games okay? Let me show you,” He passes the booth owner money, receiving three balls to throw into the moving buckets.

You watch as Jungkook perfectly gets all three balls into the buckets, as you jump excitedly next to him,

“OHMYGOSH!!!!” You’re squealing as you shake your boyfriend, who’s amused by your reaction, letting himself get shaken by you.

“Told you I could do it,” Jungkook proudly hands you the giant stuffed puppy, as you kiss him on the cheek as a thank you gesture.

“Urgh, maybe I shouldn’t have won that,” Jungkook groans, sulking into the sofa in your bedroom

“Why? It’s so cute and soft, it looks like you baby,” You giggle, hugging the huge stuffed toy tighter

“Firstly, that puppy doesn’t look like me, secondly, it’s quite literally stealing you away from me,” You watch as he whines, sinking further into the sofa.

“Okay, okay fine, now I’ll pay attention to my sulky puppy,” You tease him, walking over to the sofa and cupping his face into your hands.

Jungkook stares up at you, he’s admiring your pretty face, he could stare at you all day.

“Paw,”

“Huh?”

“Give me paw, puppy,” You giggle as you have your hand out expectantly, waiting for him to obey your command.

“Yah! What has the soft toy done to you!” He tackles you, tickling your sides as you burst out into laughter, pleading with him to stop.

Jungkook pays no heed to your pleas, he continues to manhandle you so that you’re now laying on the sofa, and he’s caging you above, preventing you from escaping his attacks.

It takes him a lot of pleading from you to stop, by the time he does stop the both of you are laughing, Jungkook plopping on top of you as you bask in happiness.

You’d love him nevertheless.

1K notes · View notes

mistydeyes · 2 years ago

Text

opposite occupations

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: all the 141 boys have different plans while on leave, each having their own idea of how to spend the time. but when they run into a lovely civilian, they realize that all the long hours, deployments, and trainings worth it.

pairing: 141 x civvie!fem!Reader

warnings: swearing, all fluff :)

a/n: I love me a good little meet cute

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

price - florist

Everyone knew that the minute Price went home, he would be making the trek to his favorite cigar shop. It had been one he frequented for years, the familiar sign welcoming him home. Most shops on the street stayed the same. He liked the constancy, the familiarity.

As he rounded the street corner, he noticed a new shop had filled the unoccupied next door. The pale pink awning and rose-tinted glass were a new sight to see. "Sentiments of Carnations" he read as he walked past. He could see through the window that the shop had not yet been opened, noting the smell of fresh paint and empty displays. He wondered what grandma had put their retirement money into this florist shop.

He continued, opening the cigar shops store and smelling the musk of smoke and tobacco. "Ah John, I have your regulars set aside," the old shop owner said with a smile. "Back again for long?" he asked upon his return with a dark oak box. "Just waiting for another phone call from his majesty," he joked and slid over the usual bank notes. "I'll be seeing you," Price said as he opened the door and exited with the familiar chime of the bell.

As he embraced the warmth of the summer England weather, he pulled out one of his fresh purchases, excellently wrapped and balanced. He flipped open his lighter from his pocket and sat down to have his first smoke at home. He closed his eyes and savored the notes of espresso and hickory. As he sat in his small nirvana, he heard the florist's doors open.

He turned as he saw you, a flower behind your ear and a pink apron that perfectly matched the outside of the shop. You were not the grandma he had expected and instead were beautiful, the sun catching your lovely features. You had placed an antique table outside, along with a bucket of a colorful array of flowers adorned with a handwritten tag. You hung a small sign on the table that read, "Take one for a friend, family member, or loved one." You smiled at yourself, proud of the little display. You turned your head and noticed the mature man enjoying his smoke only a meter away from you. You picked out a scarlet carnation and walked over to the man, handing it to him.

"Here, you go," you said as his calloused fingers held the flower delicately. "A flower to brighten someone's day," you said with a smile. "Thank you, although I am not a man for flowers," he replied and extinguished his cigar. "Well, flowers can be for a variety of reasons, a friendly gesture, a gift for someone you fancy, or even something to brighten up your flat."

You ended with a sweet smile and he could feel himself melt on the spot. Something about the floral aroma emanating from the flower behind your ear along with your soft voice and pleasantries added to his current state of nirvana. You were so radiant in this light and he appreciated the kind gesture, especially upon his return home.

"No one to give a romantic gesture to, but thank you," he replied. "Well if that ever changes, my shop opens later this week! The shop's number is on the tag" you said before giving him a small wave and wink. He could hear the shop's door close as you began to set up your display and paint a mural on one of the walls. As he twisted the carnation in his hand, he knew he would be adding your shop to his routine becoming your most frequent customer.

soap - tattoo artist

Soap looked at his phone, making sure he was in the right place. His favorite tattoo shop near his Scottish home had closed and he was taking a recommendation from Ghost.

"She's got an attitude but her work is amazing," Ghost had said before Soap's deployment. He couldn't deny the craftsmanship of her work on Ghost's arm. He marveled at the attention to detail as Ghost proudly shoved off his ornate sleeve.

Soap had an appointment for today, previously approving of the artist's rendition of his vision. A black-and-white thistle, a charm his mother had said. It was commonly known to keep its owner away from danger and bad acquaintances. Something Soap needed on the battlefield.

He pushed the maroon door open, admiring the many gold frames with what he assumed were some of the artists' work. He let out a light chuckle as he noticed a framed sketch of Ghost's sleeve. He was just about to snap a picture when a voice called out, "Hey Mohawk, this isn't a museum."

He turned around to see a woman, a gorgeous one at that. You were wearing a tank top that showed off a collage of various tattoos in different styles. You had been taking a break and relaxed, sitting behind a desk, feet propped up.

"Actually, lass, I'm here with an appointment," he said, walking over to you. "Name's John MacTavish." he finished with a cheeky smile.

"Ah MacTavish, one of Riley's military boys I'm guessing. How's that masterpiece of mine doing?" you joked, Soap didn't know what to say. Were you and Ghost a thing?

You laughed at his pause, "My tattoo, Mohawk. There's no way I'd be shagging his Halloween-looking-arse." Soap appreciated the heads up about your attitude and knew this was gonna be a fun session.

"Looks gorgeous, Sweetheart. Just like yourself," he poked back and you let out a loud laugh, almost doubling over. "Don't flatter yourself, you can go make yourself comfortable in my station over there. Looks like you're only getting a bicep tat, so I better not see your shirtless arse back there."

Soap made his way to where you motioned, sitting down in the black velvet chair. You came in a few minutes later with your sketch and supplies. You closed the scarlet curtains behind you before walking over to prep his arm.

As you sat in relative silence, Soap asked, "So what do the tattoos mean, Lass?" You finished your prep work and were working on the correct tattoo placement. "Travels from around the world. I took it upon myself to get a tattoo in every new country."

With that, you offered him a mirror so he could approve of the sketch and placement. The tattoo rested on his right bicep and he made sure to look at it at every angle and made sure to flex for your enjoyment.

"Alright, muscle man, this should only take a few hours as long as you don't pass out on me," you said and began to tattoo your next masterpiece. During the next two hours, you made conversation about the tattoos meaning, his life in Scotland, and you even shared more intimate details about your travels.

The hours flew by like minutes to Soap as you let him know you were finished. He admired the detailed flower and you handed him some care instructions with some cream. "And your buddy paid for you ahead of time, so you're all set, Mohawk" you replied and Soap got off of the chair.

"See you around, my world-class woman," he joked as he exited the door. You slightly cringed, wondering if writing your number on the tube of aftercare cream was a good idea or not.

gaz - primary school teacher

Gaz looked at himself in his flat's mirror. He brushed a hand over his freshly cut hair and evened out his dress shirt. "Just a favor for a friend," he said to himself as he walked to catch the next tram. Two days ago, an old colleague during his days working with the metro police force had reached out to him. They called in a favor, "Kyle c'mon it's just a couple of primary students, all you need to do is give a little talk about stranger danger." Knowing he had nothing else better to do, Gaz agreed.

As he signaled the tram to stop, Gaz looked at the brown brick building reminding him of his younger days. Gaz walked in, checking in with the receptionist who directed him to the classroom where he'd be giving his talk. He was early, the school had not yet opened but he was asked to have the presentation at the beginning of class before the children's lessons. He admired the walls filled with the artwork of the students, silly attempts at drawing their families. He finally reached your classroom, noting the smiling sunflower on your opened door. He knocked softly and he saw you lift your head to greet him. If he had known you would be so beautiful, he would have not needed his friend's encouragement.

"Ah you must be Sgt. Garrick," you said, beginning to get up from your desk to greet him. You smoothed out your skirt and placed your glasses down. "It's just Kyle," he said and returned your friendly smile and warm handshake.

"Well Kyle, the children should be arriving in a few minutes. I'll get them settled and introduce you for your small talk today," you said with a grateful nod. You motioned for him to sit at your desk as you stood at your door to greet your excited second-year students. Gaz played on his phone and smiled as he heard you return the children's happy good mornings with a similar high-energy one. The students began to file in, placing their bags in their cubbies, and sitting with their friends. You heard small whispers from the children, wondering what you were doing at their teacher's desk. He let out a chuckle when he heard one boy whisper, "Is that Miss Y/N's husband? He's sitting in her chair."

Finally, with all the children in their seats, you walked to the front of the classroom and greeted your students warmly. "Good morning everyone, today we have a very special guest with us. This is our friend, Kyle, and he's here today to tell you all a little something before we start our lessons."

Kyle knew this was his cue, he rose from your desk and swapped places with you at the front of the room. "Hi everyone, today I'm going to teach you smart kids about something called 'Stranger Danger'." The children oohed in response as Kyle waved his hands in a fake menacing manner. You smiled as he was a natural. The children were attentive, writing down the information as he spoke and working together with their classmates to fill out the worksheet answers. Kyle ended his talk and asked if anyone had any questions. One child raised her hand and Kyle called on her. "Is Miss Y/N a stranger? I'm confused."

"I'm your teacher, Amelia. Teachers that you know aren't strangers," you responded and Kyle nodded in agreement. Another kid raised their hand and asked, "But you aren't Kyle's teacher, so you're a stranger to him."

Before either one of you could respond, his friend boasted, "It's because they're married, your Mum and Dad aren't strangers to each other." Both you and Kyle shared a look and he saw the soft blush rise to your face. "Ah we're just friends," he said and saved you the embarrassment.

Little did Kyle know, his email would chime that night with a thankful message from you along with your number at the bottom asking him to breakfast that weekend.

ghost - veterinarian

Unlike most people, Ghost loved the quiet ambiance of London's rainfall. The streets were empty and peaceful as people were cozying up in their homes with a blanket. Enjoying the evening air and cold, he walked with an umbrella in one hand and a warm cup in the other. His boots resounded on the cobblestone street as he sipped his Earl Grey tea. His chest was warm from the bold citrus and bergamot liquid. This was, in his opinion, an ideal leave well spent.

The rhythmic rain fell and his walking was interrupted by a soft mewing. Simon hurried down the street to find the source of the noise. In front of a grocer's, he noticed a small cardboard box being drenched by the unrelenting rain. He placed his cup down and gently lifted the box. Underneath was a small grey cat, cuddled into a ball to experience some semblance of warmth. Simon placed his umbrella to shield the box and lifted the tiny meowing animal into his hands.

As he cradled the cat to his chest, he heard a click of heeled boots behind him. He turned his now-drenched head to notice you walking up with a bright orange umbrella adorned with cat paws. "Excuse me, Sir, but is he yours?" you asked gesturing to the ball of grey that laid meowing in his arms. "Uh he's not, I found this little fella underneath this box here."

"Ah a Good Samaritan, I see. Well, I own the veterinarian shop down the way, I can take him off your hands if you'd like and make sure this little lad gets the care he needs," you said and offered a hand to hold the kitten. You noticed his slight hesitation and said, "If you'd like, I'll give you my card so you can take the little one home when he's all better."

"That would be nice," he smiled underneath his black face mask. Simon loved animals, never being permitted to have one as a child. As you held the kitten in your arm, you handed him your umbrella. He initially tried to refuse but you insisted saying, "You're soaked, I'll be alright." You ended with a small giggle which made Ghost warmer than his now cold cup of tea.

"The least I can do is walk you back to your shop," he replied a little too quickly. He instantly realized the surprising force he had said that with and followed up with, "You know, just so you and Earl Grey can make it there in this weather.

"Earl Grey, I like that. That's my favorite order, especially on days like this." Simon moved slightly behind you, holding the umbrella to shield the three of you on your walk. The air was filled with the familiar scent of rain and the notes of your floral perfume. "I'm Dr. L/N by the way, but most people just call me, Y/N," you said as you continued on your way. "I'm Simon, a pleasure to meet you doc."

Three weeks later Simon's house was filled with all the necessities for a new cat father. As he grabbed his coat, he pulled out a water-stained business card with the vet's office address and your number written on the back. He smiled to himself as he traced his fingers over the small handwriting saying, "To Earl Grey's owner, fancy a cup of tea with me?"

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lurkingshan · 7 months ago

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Bestie @my-rose-tinted-glasses sent me an ask but tumblr is being a weirdo and won't let me publish it, so let's try it this way. The ask:

Wonderful day in Thailand. but now for the important questions. Of all the ql thai couples, which wedding would you like to be invited to and why? Rose💜

So let's talk QL weddings!! First of all, I would like to give a shoutout to a few excellent weddings already depicted in Thai QL:

And I would have liked to have been personally invited to every one of them, thank you very much. I'm a very fun wedding guest! I drink like a fish, I'm a happy drunk, and I love to dance, and on top of that I'm a mom friend and consummate problem solver who will absolutely take over and handle shit if the wedding planner is incompetent.

As for the weddings I would still like to see, oh I definitely have a list:

Oyei and Cher, Wandee Goodday: This is within the realm of possibility in the very near future and I will be lighting all my candles and manifesting hard for the next month.

Ten and Prem, Cooking Crush: Those were definitely engagement portraits on the wall in that epilogue and I would like to see it! I feel strongly that if I don't see at least one pair of OffGun characters get married onscreen I will simply perish.

Patts and Tai, La Pluie: You just know Patts is gonna be so extravagant and Tai is gonna be such a drama queen about it. To restore balance to the universe, Tien should get to throw a tantrum and make Tai's wedding all about his latest fight with Lomfon.

Tian and Jiu, Khun Chai: I just think Tian deserves it!!!!

Every couple in The Warp Effect: We can make it a dorky group wedding if we have to, whatever it takes to see all those beautiful queer people lawfully wed to their chosen partner.

Phumjai and Yang, Love in Translation: They are business partners in love, they should get to have a wedding with a silly photoshoot in the aisles of their store.

Any pair, Knock Knock Boys: Stay with me now, I think the bl boys should get to partake in the time honored het tradition of getting drunkenly married on a bender and regretting it.

Khanin and Charan, The Next Prince: If this show does not deliver an extravagant royal wedding, what are we even doing here??

I recognize that some of these shows are long over, but I see no reason why we can't have the things that we want. Happy endings and wedding specials for everyone, I will pay!

#wandee goodday #cooking crush #la pluie #khun chai #the warp effect #love in translation #knock knock boys #thai bl #thai drama #thai gl #marriage equality #shan answers

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devflamme · 4 months ago

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Am I Making You Feel Sick?

Summary: Agatha and Lilia having a talk about Agatha's relationship with Rio. Mother issues ensue.

Words: 888

Pairings: Agatha Harkness & Lilia Calderu, Agatha Harkness/Rio Vidal

Warnings: None. There are some headcanons here and there, like: the coven having visions of themselves since they went in the Witches' Road because of Lilia, and Agatha having anxiety. Title from Strangers by Ethel Cain.

English is not my first language / Dividers by @/cafekitsune.

Agatha looked up from where she was sitting in that big disco, noticing Lilia in front of her, holding her hands together in front of her body as she looked down at the younger witch with an analyzing, all-knowing expression. Agatha frowns and then arches an eyebrow up, looking around to find the rest of the coven – Teen was looking for anything hidden in the trial together with Alice and Jennifer, while Rio was… being herself. Looking at Agatha from the corner of the room, watching her like a hawk.

“What?” Agatha blurts out and Lilia sits beside her. Agatha frowns harder, already wanting to know what the clairvoyant had to say – and hoping it was quick, she didn’t want anymore trouble with the coven after cheating in the last trial they were in. Lilia only sighs and Agatha rolls her eyes, crossing her arms like a petulant child. Just how she looked in Lilia’s eyes. “What do you want, oldie?”

“You and the Green Witch,” Lilia starts. Agatha shivers slightly, feeling a hot sensation near the start of her neck. She reaches to touch it, noticing how hot her neck felt from the rest of her body. She could also feel the small scar tissue near her collarbones from the day Rio attacked her in her home – ‘touch’. “You both have a very complicated history, don’t you?”

“What makes you say that?” Agatha rasps out, still feeling hot on the neck like she always did when she was close to Rio or when someone even mentioned her. She did not know why she always reacted like this – she would never know. Rio makes her feel sick. “Jealous, oldie?”

Lilia only chuckles humourlessly. “Stop avoiding my question, Harkness. I’m trying to make conversation with you.”

“I do not want to have a conversation.” Agatha answers, gritting through her teeth angrily. She was feeling too many eyes on her – not a good sign – and it was making her feel extremely uneasy. She could feel Lilia’s analyzing, seeking eyes together with Rio’s jealous, crazed eyes – not a good sign.

“Is her anger towards you related to the story Jennifer told me?” Lilia asks, her voice more low since she could notice the younger’s uneasiness towards their conversation and Rio’s presence close to them. Agatha looked at her own hands and, for a second, she could see her fingertips tinted with black – corrupted with black. Agatha shakes her hands as if she was shaking water out of them. Lilia frowns. “Are you okay?”

“No. Clearly not. I probably just had one of your visions again, oldie.” Agatha mumbles and Lilia scoffs. Since they entered the Witches’ Road, every single one of the coven members had a vision of the future of themselves more than once. Having Lilia here as the Clairvoyant clearly had an effect on them – Lilia’s clairvoyance was clearly so powerful that it had affected the coven members, too. “Do I really have to answer your question? Everyone hates me enough for what I did, I don’t want to live that day again.”

“I’m not judging you now.” Lilia says. Agatha looks at the older woman, noticing how genuine her words sounded, so different from when they first talked – maybe because of Agatha’s acts towards her, but still – at her store. Agatha only stares at Lilia’s eyes. They had almost the same shimmer that Evanora’s eyes had, but Lilia’s looked softer while Evanora’s looked harsher. Angrier. “I could judge you for a lot of things, but I’m not. I want to talk with you.”

Agatha does not answer. She chokes back a sob, waiting for Lilia to make fun of her, but it never came. It was like she never noticed how Agatha was close to breaking in front of her after receiving understanding words from the person she least expected. Lilia looks away, her eyes to the front, noticing how Rio still stared at them, but her eyes were not mad, just… curious. Like she wanted to get closer and discover why Agatha was almost sobbing after having such a small conversation – if you could call it a conversation – with Lilia. Rio knew when Agatha was sad – she always knew how to distinguish Agatha’s feelings. She could mess up every single piece that was Agatha Harkness’ puzzled personality and just put it together again by memory.

“Yes,” Agatha chokes out, her voice low as a whisper. Her eyes search for Teen, looking at the boy in the other corner of the enormous room, chatting away with Jennifer as they search around. Great, he did not see this. She did not need Teen’s worried eyes on her. ”It is mostly because of what I did. She did her… own horrible things, but I was the worst.”

“What makes you say that?” Lilia questions. She wasn’t touching Agatha, but her voice felt like a caress on Agatha’s back, comforting her and giving her what she needed since she lost her mother – understanding. “You both should talk.”

“Say that to the bitch,” Agatha grits through her teeth again and Lilia gives her a reprimanding look. Agatha sighs, looking down like a petulant child, again. “Say that to her, that she needs to talk with me, without knives, and then we can get even.”

“That is not my job, Agatha. That’s yours.”

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #lilia calderu #rio vidal #agathario #my writing #agatha harkness fanfic #if someone saw this before #no you did not. i forgot to put the tags and now im posting it again 🫡

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fatkish · 5 months ago

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Monster Gyomei x Depressed Reader

Part 2 of 2

Late summer had gone and now early fall was here. The leaves were turning red, yellow and orange, fruits and vegetables were being harvested. The days were starting to cool down. And you continued to visit Gyomei.

Gyomei was very kind and greatly enjoyed your company, much more than you could know. One day, you had climbed the mountain trail and were surprised to see that Gyomei wasn’t around. Normally he’d be near to greet you.

You decided to tend to your garden and prep for winter, making sure the shrine was in good condition and fixing some of the roof tiles. While you were fixing the roof tiles, you had slipped and began to slide down the side. You thought you were surely going to get hurt from the fall only to be caught in a warm embrace.

Gyomei had rushed over to the side of roof you were on and caught you in his arms. You thanked him profusely for saving you.

“Y/n that’s very dangerous, I told you that you don’t have to do any of this for me” Gyomei said with tears in his eyes as he held you in his arms.

You gently ran your hand up and down his arm, “it’s fine Gyomei, I want to do these things for you. You deserve it” you smiled.

Gyomei gave you a gentle squeeze before setting you down on your feet. “I know but I care deeply for you and worry for your safety. Which reminds me, I have a question for you.”

You looked up at Gyomei and saw that there was a slight red tint to his cheeks. You had never really seen Gyomei blush before so this must be something very personal.

Gyomei took a deep breath, before speaking. “Y/n, as you know, fall is already here and soon, winter will be here as well. I want you to know that I care deeply for you and no matter what, I do not wish you to feel any sort of pressure about what I am about to ask you. And no matter what, you will always be welcome here.”

You started to become worried, so you gently placed your hand on Gyomei’s thick arm. You looked up at him and urged him to continue.

“Y/n, will you be my mate?”

“Huh?” Your entire mind just stopped and froze. You took a few minutes to try and process what Gyomei had asked you.

“You want me, to be your mate?” You asked. You looked at Gyomei as a soft smile came to his teary face.

“You take such good care of me, and I want to do the same. I promise, I will protect you, you will never want for anything, I will provide for you and care for you. Of course, you would come to live here with me permanently. What do you say, y/n? Will you be my mate?”

Gyomei rubbed his beads between his palms. You thought it over for a minute. You had been the happiest you’ve been in years with Gyomei. You never wanted to lose him and this way, you’d get to wake up next to him everyday. And at night, you’d get to snuggle in his arms.

You walked over to Gyomei and reached up to cup his face in your hands. “I’d love to be your mate Gyomei”

Tears ran down Gyomei’s cheeks as he wrapped his large arms around you and picked you up, embracing you. “You have no idea how happy this makes me”

That night you stayed over at the shrine as Gyomei explained what all your future would look like. Gyomei would be going into a mating season in winter where he would need you by his side. When you went to sleep, you crawled into the nest of blankets and fabrics that Gyomei slept in. You snuggled into his warm arms as his tail wrapped around your leg and you fell asleep.

Time flew by quickly and before you knew it, winter had arrived. You had decided to prep during the fall and had stored enough food to last both of you till late winter or early spring. You had noticed how Gyomei had been more affectionate lately. Nuzzling you and smothering you in hugs and cuddles.

One morning, Gyomei approached you from behind as you were making breakfast, he wrapped his large arms around you and began nuzzling against your neck. Rubbing his face against you. You giggled as you smiled at his gentle affection. You turned around and cupped his face in your hands before leaning in and giving him a kiss.

As you kissed him, he started to kiss back. At first it was soft and sweet, then it grew more passionate and slightly sloppy. He licked your bottom lip asking for entrance which you gave him. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and explored every inch of it. His hands moved to have one cup the back of your head and the other on your lower back. Gyomei groaned when you both separated.

He picked you up and brought you over to the nest. He gently laid you down in the middle of it and slowly began to remove your clothes and his. You watched his muscles ripple and flex with each of his movements. Once you both were fully disrobed, he knelt over you and gave you a kiss on the lips.

He cupped your face in one large palm as he slowly peppered your face in kisses.

“Y/n, it’s time. I need you. If you’re serious about being my mate then I will continue, but if not, then I will help you down the mountain and you’ll have to wait until spring to see me again.” He spoke softly.

You reached up and cupped his face, bringing him down to kiss him before answering. “My love, I want to be your mate. I need you just as you need me. I’ve never been happier than I am when I’m with you”

Gyomei smiled as tears ran down his face that you quickly wiped away. “Thank you, my beloved. I promise to be gentle. Let me know if I hurt you, please”

After he spoke he continued kissing you as his hands began to explore the expanse of your body. One hand trailed up your side and cupped your chest. Groping it and palming it, before he pinched your nipple between two fingers and gave it a few tugs and twists. His other hand traveled down your side and slipped between your legs.

His fingers carefully explored, looking for your entrance before he found it and slipped a single finger inside. His thick digit pushed in as you clenched down on him. He curled his finger inside you and pulled it out before adding a second and began to thrust his fingers in and out.

As he stretched you on his fingers, his mouth moved from your neck to your chest. In one hand he had a nipple pinched between two of his fingers. He gently nipped at your chest before taking one of your nipples into his mouth and giving it an experimental suck. You moaned which made him continue to suck on your nipple, gently running his teeth over it and pinching it between them gently. He then switched to your other breast and he groped and palmed at the one his mouth just left.

After giving both of your breasts ample attention, he moved down and lifted your legs onto his shoulders before giving your pussy an experimental lick. He then dove in and began to eat you out. When he found your clit he gave it a harsh tug from between his teeth which made you squeal. He continued to suckle on it whilst fingering you, making you buck your hips. You cried and moaned as he inserted a third finger and began to assault your g-spot, once he found it.

You cried as you came, Gyomei groaned as you clenched down on his fingers. Gyomei then pulled back and sat up, he wrapped his arms around you and helped you get yourself situated above his cock.

“Are you absolutely sure you want this?” Gyomei asked.

“Yes” you replied as you started to sink down on him.

Gyomei groaned and you whimpered as his thick cock began to spread you open as you slowly sunk down on it. Bit by bit, his entire length was slowly swallowed by your greedy cunt. By the time he was fully sheathed, you nearly came as his tip was resting against your cervix. After a few moments you began to grind your hips, letting Gyomei know that he could move.

Gyomei gently grabbed your hips and pulled you almost entirely off of him before pulling you back down. Gyomei began to steadily bounce you on his cock as you gripped his shoulders, nearly in tears from the intense pleasure. Gyomei then leaned over and pulled one of your nipples into his mouth and began to suck on it as he bounced you. You cried when he gently bit down on your nipple, rubbing it between his teeth.

Gyomei started to speed up and began thrusting his hips up into you, his tail swaying and thumping in his excitement. He then laid you down on your back as he started to pummel your poor pussy. His hips would slam into yours, his heavy balls slapping your ass with each thrust. He groaned into your ear as your body squeezed down on him. You could hardly breathe as each thrust just knocked the wind right out of you.

You squealed when Gyomei hit your g-spot, your body tightened and squeezed him so hard his hips stuttered. He began to aim for that particular spot, hitting it with every thrust causing you to arch your back and tears to form in your eyes as you silently screamed. Gyomei speed up as he was getting close, he reached down and pinched your clit, swirling it around with his thumb. He gave it a few good tugs and you came, squirting on him.

He growled and gripped your ass as he sped up his thrusts and snarled as he came. He bit down on your neck, marking you as his cock throbbed, releasing his cum inside of your plush walls. Gyomei rocked his hips a bit, before pulling out. He looked down at you and crooned. He gently held your face and gave you a kiss as he purred, his tail swaying. Gyomei picked you up and sat you on his face as he cleaned you up, licking up both of your combined juices.

After he cleaned you up, he help you in one arm as he cradled you and nuzzled you. He purred as you tiredly kissed him and ran your fingers through his hair. Gyomei cried in delight at finally having the perfect little mate, one to cherish and love, and that loved him. He snuggled up with you in the nest before pulling the top over the both of you to keep you both nice and warm. Gyomei kissed you as you cuddled and you fell asleep, safe in his warm embrace.

#gyomei x reader smut #demon slayer gyomei #kny gyomei #gyomei x reader #gyomei himejima #gyomei smut

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finalfitusa · 6 months ago

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Best Car Tinting Shop Near Me

When searching for a car tinting shop near me, quality and expertise are key. Local car tinting shops offer the convenience of proximity while providing specialized services to enhance your vehicle's appearance and functionality. These shops utilize high-quality materials and advanced techniques to ensure a perfect application that improves UV protection, reduces glare, and enhances privacy. Many car tinting shops near you offer various tinting options, including standard, ceramic, and premium films, catering to different needs and preferences. Their experienced technicians are dedicated to delivering precise, professional results, ensuring your vehicle looks sleek and performs optimally. Choosing a reputable car tinting shop near you means benefiting from expert advice, competitive pricing, and a personalized touch that guarantees satisfaction. For superior results and a seamless tinting experience, trust a local car tinting shop to meet your needs and exceed your expectations.

#car tinting shop near me #tint places near me #tint stores near me

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sonotpattismith · 3 months ago

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pretty little things (kento nanami x reader)

word count: 10.3k inspired by: as the world caves in by matt maltese warnings: slight angst, fluff, me missing Haibara Yu like a mf summary: when nanami faces near death at the hands of his cruel reality, he's reminded of the graveness of simplicity at the hands of a friendly bookstore owner, who is struggling to find meaning in her own mundaneness. a/n: okay format switch up? LMK if you guys prefer this post format better! Also if it wasn't apparent in the tooth-rotting fluff- I LOVE NANAMI KENTO. That's all. I hope you all enjoy 🫶🏻🥹

Learning how not to ask questions was an art.

Having worked in a bookstore that shelved such a wide array of genres for a few years— there were many questions that constantly littered your mind as character after character came and went from your quaint little shop. They all varied in age, gender, ethnicity, and their choice in literature offered that much more variety. You watched countless titles being laid against your checkout counter. Macbeth, Twilight, Baking for Dummies, A Happy Life in an Open Relationship, The CBT Workbook for Perfectionism, Why Can’t I Let You Go— all the covers that your neatly manicured nails skimmed over each hour told a story.

Sometimes, as you peered up at the customer attached to the novel, you painted a picture of their story in your ever wondering mind. This evening, it was an elderly woman, her silvery hair pushed back with soft pink clips and a sage green frock clinging delicately to her slumped shoulders. Window to Widow, the bolded letter across the cover told her story for you. No matter how much you felt compelled to question, aching to ask her how she was doing— people came to the bookstore to find something in the world that they were missing from themselves.

You, on the other hand, were only there to observe with a welcoming smile. Never judging, never questioning, never helping. They were here to help themselves, after all.

So, you smiled warmly at the somber woman and rang up her total. Turning back to your side counter with her book in hand, you wrapped it delicately with twine, pressing your pointer finger in the middle of it to tie a quaint bow with the tool. Your lips twitched melancholily as you picked a small bundle of forget-me-nots from the cardboard box beside the register and carefully tucked it into the twine.

You had gotten very skilled at not asking any questions.

Sighing at the computer screen before you, your mind was flooded with uncertainty as you skimmed through the countless college programs emailed to you by the advisor you’d spoken with weeks prior. She told you that, following your meeting, these seemed like the best fit for what you wanted to pursue. As you clicked into each one and read more into them, you couldn’t help but look around at the solace of a corner bookstore you’d built up from the ground just three years ago.

It wasn’t enough, you always thought when you heard about the countless deaths and tragedies that were befalling the city around you. After all, there were people on the frontlines, people making a difference, and you felt inferior as you selected your week’s display line up and decorated it just pretty enough to catch passer byer’s attention. You loved it with your whole heart, but was it enough?

“Excuse me,” A firm voice called out from behind you as the soft melody of the door chime sounded. Turning your head, you were met by the guarded gaze of a tall, suited man. His blonde hair sat almost perfectly on his head, save for the stray strands that fluttered across his forehead. The hollows of his cheeks made way for his carefully carved face and jawline, and the sight of him had your brows raising just a hair. “Do you happen to have a section for cook books?”

Despite his question being directed at you, he was already looking around the small store with a hand on his hip. The yellow tint of his glasses shone as the setting sun hit them from the window, revealing a glimpse of his narrowed eyes. Taking in his seemingly strong physique, his serious expression, and well pressed suit and tie, his question surprised you. A cookbook?

Shoving your questions to the back of your head as you always did, you smiled softly at him in greeting. Stepping down from the small footstool you’d been balancing on, you walked toward the far right aisle of the store, nodding for him to follow along with you. You heard his steady footsteps behind you as you stopped in front of your small selection of cookbooks. A timid smile lit graced your features as you waved your hands in presentation, watching as he nodded at the selection.

“Um… is there anything specific that I can help you find?” You cringed at your question, beacause, in reality, there weren’t that many cookbooks to choose from, so you were sure the more than competent looking man did not need your help. Still, you couldn’t help but want to linger— he was the most handsome customer that had graced your store in a minute, after all.

“No, that’s quite alright. Thank you.” The man didn’t even look at you as he dismissed your help, already peering curiously at the baking section.

“Right,” You muttered pathetically, turning on your heel to give him some space to browse. “Well, let me know if you need anything!”

It was only a few minutes later, as you continued busying yourself with the finishing touches of the display table, that you heard him politely clear his throat behind you. Catching yourself before you slipped off the footstool, you nodded bashfully before placing yourself behind the register. The man set a hardcover down on the counter in front of you. Peering down, you smiled gently. The Bread Bible. Something about the mental image of this beefy, solemn man carefully following cookbook directions to make bread tickled a part of your brain that had you suppressing an amused expression.

As he handed you his credit card, he took a chance to look around the small store thoughtfully.

“Is this a new business? I frequent the café next door, but I don’t think I’ve ever noticed this being here.” You were surprised when he initiated the conversation, as you had already gotten the impression that he wanted to be in and out of here without being bothered. “I usually go to the bookstore down the street, but it seems they’ve closed for renovations.”

“Oh! No, I actually opened about three years ago.” You flushed, suddenly very aware of the fact that your little store was by no means attention grabbing from the outside. Glancing at the front windows, you made a mental note to search around for some plants or lights that might make it stand out more.

He hummed in acknowledgement.

“So, you like the café next door—” You squinted down at the card in your hands before smiling up at him and returning it. Grabbing the book from the counter, you made quick work to begin wrapping it up neatly. “Nanami-san? You should try their daifuku if you haven’t already. It’s to die for.”

Nanami’s head turned at the sound of his name.

“Daifuku, hm? I’ll have to try it the next time I go.” With curious eyes, he watched as you cut a string of twine and began wrapping his book. “There’s no need for that. It’s only for me.”

Glancing up at him with a smile, you shook your head in dismissal before plucking a few flower’s from your stash to place into the knot.

“I do it for all the books I sell.” You explained fondly, handing the beautifully presented book to him. His fingers brushed yours as he grabbed it, staring intently down at the soft, blue flowers that graced the cover. “Everyone needs a little reminder of the pretty things in life, right?”

For the first time since coming into the store, Nanami actually glanced up at you with the intent of seeing you. You wore delicate, linen overalls over your thin, long-sleeved white top. The loose strands of hair falling from your bun framed your kind face, making the corners of his lips twist up, just barely noticeably. Your smile was soft, kind— a reminder of the pretty things in this life.

“I suppose so.” Nanami quipped under his breath, bowing slightly in thanks before exiting your little, corner bookstore.

That cookbook didn’t get touched for the weeks that followed. It was sat beside the pile of other books he’d bought, always telling himself he’d make some time for himself to wind down and read them. Still, each time he stumbled home from work, his muscles aching and his eyes burning, all he could find the energy to do was shower and fall into his cold bed. After all, if he didn’t sleep when he had the chance, when would he?

Despite the dust collecting on the cover, those forget-me-nots always caught his attention from the corner of his eye. After a few days, they began wilting, but the reminder of them still rang clear each time he walked through the front door of his lonesome apartment and came face to face with the untouched, delicately wrapped and decorated book.

It seemed as though each day, his missions became more strenuous, and with each mission, his lips seemed to brush that much closer with the kiss of death. Though his past had brought him face to face with such tragedies before, it felt as though the added risk to his mortality was being brought to his attention more often. So, the more he put off his books, or learning new hobbies, or forming any sort of real connection outside of his work, the higher the stakes were drawn.

As he awaited his coffee that day though, just as he did every other morning, the rigidity of his routine was so much so that he didn’t even notice how he didn’t have to check the total before swiping his card— already knowing it by heart. The packaged pastry was warm against his cool hands as his eyes drifted over the display case, and he had the strangest feeling that he’d forgotten something. It wasn’t in his robotic list of motions though, so he left the café without a second glance.

Nanami was on his way to work when his routine was interrupted. Well, not interrupted, but perhaps distracted was a better word. The quaint bookstore he’d discovered just two weeks ago came into his line of sight as it always did on his way to work. Though he sometimes cast a sidelong glance into the window, he had yet to stop in again. This morning though, you were outside.

Your arms were outstretched above you, a set of fairy lights hanging from your fingers as you tried your best to loop them through the hooks above the door. The decorations you had ordered for the front of the shop had finally come in, and you were desperate for anything that would draw a little more attention to your hole in the wall of a shop. Hopping up a bit with a grunt, you pursed your lips in frustration as you missed your target again.

“Would you like some help?”

You whipped your head around mid-jump at the familiar, solemn voice. Sure enough, the mysterious Nanami himself stood behind you, coffee in one hand and packaged croissant in the other. Just as he was the first time you saw him, his suit was pristinely pressed, and it made you wonder what kind of big shot job he must have.

“Nanami-san!” You muttered in surprise. A flush quickly found its way to your cheeks, embarrassed to have revealed that you’d remembered the man’s name that you’d swiped from his credit card. He didn’t seem phased though, shifting his croissant into the same hand occupied by his coffee and taking the string of lights from your hands. Reaching up with an ease that made your previous hopping look quite pathetic, he carefully looped the fairy lights in and adjusted them to frame the door nicely.

“Is this how you wanted them?”

Too caught up in your blatant staring at his casual display of masculinity, you hadn’t noticed that he finished. Snapping from your haze, you took a step back to inspect his handiwork. With an excited smile, you pressed the button on the remote in your pocket, watching the tiny bulbs light up the entryway.

“What d’ya think?” You asked, not tearing your eyes away from the door.

Frankly, Nanami thought the lights were barely noticeable in the daylight, but you seemed so elated by the delicate change. So, he simply hummed in acknowledgment. Casting a shy look his way at the sound of his unenthusiastic reaction, you squatted down to grab the box of flowers at your feet.

“Thank you for your help. I didn’t really feel like dragging the ladder out here.” Grunting softly with the effort of the weighted box, you were surprised when he slid his arm right under it and relieved you of it, nodding for you to get the door.

The sorcerer took in the sight of the various, opened books that littered your back counter as he set the box down. From the looks of it, they all appeared to be exam preps. You blew your hair from your face and followed his gaze to the aftermath of your anxiety induced study session.

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess in here.” You chuckled nervously, frantically moving to mark your pages and stack your books neatly beside the checkout. “I have my entrance exams in a week, so I’ve been cramming when I can.”

“Entrance exams?”

“Um… yeah! I’ve been thinking about going back to school.”

“Something related to business management, I presume?” His question made you look down apprehensively. Chewing on your bottom lip, you began absentmindedly picking debris, spare flower petals, and leaves from the counter.

“No, actually. I’ve been hoping to get into something more… meaningful?”

This made Nanami pause, tearing his gaze from the display case to face you. He wasn’t sure why he was lingering, but something about your sweet-tempered voice, and its nature to say whatever came to mind— it grounded him outside of his usual routine. It, of course, didn’t hurt that the owner of the nice, little bookshop just in the perimeter of his daily walk was so prepossessing. The sorcerer tilted his head with a furrowed brow.

“I’m assuming by that, you mean you think that what you do here isn’t meaningful…” His shielded eyes drifted down to the name tag pinned onto your sweater. The way your name rolled off his tongue, in combination with his gentle, lecturing tone, flustered you a bit. The man wasn’t harsh, or judgemental, or mean. No, his words were curious and calculated, as if truly trying to understand such a notion.

“I don’t know.” You squeaked out, feeling small under his dominant gaze. It had you wondering how intimidating he was without those damned glasses shielding his eyes. “I mean, is it really, in the grand scheme of things? I feel like people are dropping dead left and right. Probably be more useful as like… a nurse or something, y’know?”

Nanami hummed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other purposefully. Still, he gave you no solace from that smoldering, contemplative stare. You tried your best to take it head on, refusing to shy away from his determined eyes.

“There was a time that I felt the same way, but what I was doing was truly not meaningful. People come into bookstores to get away from the grand scheme of things. I believe an escape is just as meaningful as tackling these problems head on, wouldn’t you agree?” His question wasn’t as rhetorical as his tone made it out to be, because he was staring down at you expectantly, awaiting confirmation that what he was saying was penetrating. You nodded dumbly. “It’s just as you put it… remembering the pretty things in life?”

If he kept talking, you were going to fall to your knees in the middle of this damned store. With flushed cheeks, you attempted to collect yourself. You cleared your throat and smoothed down the soft, cotton of your sweater as a customer walked in. Finally, Nanami’s eyes drifted to the entrance, allowing you a chance to breathe. With the newfound clarity, you noticed the coffee and pastry in his hand.

“Speaking of,” You chimed in, grateful to get the topic off of you and your pathetic little existential crisis. His blond hair swayed as he turned to regard you once again. “Did you try that daifuku I told you about?”

It was like a bell had suddenly tolled in his mind, and he mentally cursed himself for having forgotten to pick one up, given he had been in and out of that café at least six times since you’d told him about the damned pastry. Pursing his lips, the blond looked down at his croissant.

“No, it must have slipped my mind.”

“Busy working man, I assume?” You teased, taking another once over at his suit and strangely patterned tie. Nanami hummed in a sort of regretful agreement. “What do you do anyway? You said you found your old work meaningless.”

For the first time since meeting him, a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He bowed politely to you before making his way out of the bookstore.

“Have a nice day.” Nanami offered calmly over his shoulder, and you were once again left melting at the sound of your name falling from his lips.

The sorcerer heard you call out a meek goodbye behind him, and it made him forget that, for the first time in years, he was late to work.

Kento Nanami stopped by the shop more often after that. Certainly not as often as you would have liked, but he was swiping his card for a singular, new book at least once a week now. He would ask you how your studies were going, and you lied and said that they were good, too embarrassed to tell him that you’d canceled your entrance exams in a panic following his impromptu pep-talk. It wasn’t that you fully scrapped the idea, but his finding meaning in your seemingly mundane little career gave you pause. Maybe you just needed more time to think about it.

Each time he stopped by, there were new decorations out front. From the fairy lights he’d hung still lit up at the door, to the potted plants that dangled from the overhang, down to the charming welcome mat that you’d placed by the door. His usual bookstore finished construction a week prior, but it didn’t seem as appealing to him anymore.

His selection of books ranged drastically, to the point that you wondered if he was purposefully doing it to throw you off. The more rational part of you said that he didn’t seem the type to care enough about what picture he was painting with his literature choices. From thin books on mixology, to informational books about stain removing, and self-help books about time management— you could never get a proper read on Kento Nanami. Still, you bit back your questions and tied them all up with a different flower each week.

The sorcerer’s pile of untouched books grew and grew as the weeks passed, taking up his coffee table with a haunting energy. Ever since Sukuna’s vessel had sprung up, work was consuming him more than usual. Despite his hectic schedule, his aching muscles, and his survival mentality as he floated through life, the wilting flowers in his collection of books always grounded him back to his quiet apartment.

It wasn’t until a particularly perilous mission that he wished he had made the time to read at least one of those books. His cheek rubbed against the cool, gravelly cement, and he could feel the warmth of his own blood, spilled and pooling around him. At the very least, the special grade was sliced into desolate pieces and scattered around him. As he attempted a deep breath, trying to gather his energy to grab his phone and call for help, Nanami realized all he could manage were short, shallow breaths, and even they felt as though they were piercing holes in his lungs.

Crimson pooled his vision, and his lids snapped shut as the puddle of viscous liquid invaded the corner of his eye. With shaking hands, he reached into his pocket to press the emergency button on the side of his phone twice, sending out an alert for help. Maybe they’d come in time. His hand fell limply to his side, and he shifted carefully onto his back, choking out desperately from the effort.

The blood beneath him soaked into his shirt and clung to his hair. He knew he was losing too much, it was evident in the way his vision began to blur, and his head began to spin in a haze.

The sorcerer thought about the pile of books in his apartment. He thought about each time he stumbled home and not once felt that he had it in him to do something for himself. The reminder that each time he could have indulged, the rigidity of his mindless routine kept him from doing anything of the sort— it haunted him as his consciousness began to wane.

His fading mind wandered over every abandoned book, to the wilting flowers that accompanied each one of them. Your words rang in his mind as if a distant echo.

Everyone needs a little reminder of the pretty things in life, right?

Despite himself, and how close his knuckles were brushing against death’s door, Nanami smiled, his split lip leaking with blood that stained his pearly teeth. Even in this mangled, godless tomb he’d found himself lying in— even with the demolished, irreverent figure that had desecrated his body so carelessly— even with the deplorable state his body would be leaving this world— you were there in the back of his soul to remind him, because you were the prettiest thing he could possibly think to remember in his final moments.

It was the first week that had gone by in some time that Kento Nanami hadn’t stopped by your shop. Though it might have been silly, you began to expect him each week— either early in the morning before his shift, or late in the afternoon when he had a certain gruffness in his tone that gave way to the lingering effects of his day. You would never be able to tell by the look on his face though. It was ever neutral; never a frown and even rarer a smile.

When the second week passed, you figured he’d simply gone back to his routine of going to the larger, more commercial bookstore that had reopened down the street. They had a wider selection, after all, and he said himself that he’d only stopped by your store due to their closure.

In a haze of high-school type infatuation, you had told your friend about the guarded man that had been frequenting the store. She had a job at the local clinic, however she often came by to help you out around the store on the rare instances it was too busy for one body alone to keep up with the influx of customers. Each time she’d come in for a makeshift shift, you always silently hoped he’d stop by so she could at least put a face to the name.

He never did though, and, with his now two week absence, you were coming to terms with the fact that she likely never would see him. You smiled wistfully at the thought as you watched her show a customer to the cookbooks. It was likely that you’d allowed your imagination to take you too far, and Nanami was, as simply as he put it, browsing your selection until the other shop reopened.

You couldn’t discount the hope he’d instilled in you though that the work you were doing did mean something to someone. Even someone as consumed by the hustle and bustle of the city as Nanami seemed to be made the time to stop by your shop with the intent of escaping, and it had been so important to you each time you heard his polite, reserved greeting filling the air around you.

“Excuse me,” You were snapped from your dissociative haze by the customer in front of you. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that you’d failed to greet them before you began mindlessly scanning their books. Looking up in surprise, you smiled apologetically to the man in front of you. “Where’s that pretty little head of yours, huh?”

Your smile faltered for a moment at his borderline creepy question, but you shrugged it off nonetheless and began packaging his books up.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” You questioned politely, haphazardly measuring the twine you were rolling out before slicing through it.

“Well…” The man sighed dramatically, leaning against the counter. You knew then that you shouldn’t have asked, and, with an internal sigh, you knew you’d spend at least the next ten minutes suffering for your fatal mistake. “I was hoping to get the nice cashier’s attention, but it looks like she’s otherwise preoccupied.”

Not looking up at him as you continued packaging his books, you resisted the urge to correct his cashier comment to owner, figuring the less he knew— the better. Having picked out about five books, he had the time to go on a long winded rant about how decent courtesy was a thing of the past, and women just aren’t as nice as they used to be but that he was sure you seem different from all the rest. The irritation was rising in your chest, but you swallowed it down as you placed the finishing touches on each of his books.

“Have a nice day, sir.” You smiled meekly at him as you slid his nicely presented books toward him. He stared dumbly at you for a moment, blinking a few times before offering a sly smile.

“And I don’t suppose your number is written in any of those right?”

With a blush that was more so from irritation than anything else, you began cleaning your workstation, once again choosing to ignore him. You never were good at putting your foot down in such awkward situations. An anxious gulp forced its way down your throat when you heard him hum in question.

“C’mon, I see that blush—”

“Is it time for your break yet, my love?”

Your head shot up at the sound of another voice cutting off the sleeze’s comment, and your eyes met those of a taller man looming calmly beside your lingering customer. They were calculated, focused on you while seemingly ever-aware of the lurking presence beside him, hazel irises glistening from the sun shining through the windows.

It took you almost a full minute to realize it was Kento Nanami standing before you. You had never seen him without those goggle-like glasses always attached to his nose, and he wasn’t in his usual suit. Instead, he donned a cream colored, knit sweater that paired well with his neatly fitted, dark jeans. You couldn’t tell what caught you more off guard, seeing how striking his eyes were for the very first time, or how different he appeared in such casual clothing.

Clutched in his hand was a bouquet of white roses, light-blue forget-me-nots sprinkled throughout the arrangement.

“My love?” The questioning call of his voice, paired with the intense eye contact he was maintaining told you that he indeed was directing that term of endearment toward you. He cast a quick, sidelong glance to the man beside him, and you quickly caught on, nodding softly.

“Um, yes. I was just wrapping up with this customer.” You hinted, pushing the stack of books closer to the dumbfounded man for good measure. “Have a nice day, sir.”

Not allowing him to respond, Nanami stepped forward to take his spot at the counter, leaving the man to begrudgingly pick up his books and take his leave. Your eyes followed him out, and you couldn’t help the dramatic sigh of relief that heaved out your chest as the door closed behind him.

“I apologize if I overstepped, but it appeared as though he wasn’t taking the hint.”

Looking back over at your knight-in-cashmere-sweater, you smiled gratefully at him. Nanami’s lips twitched up ever so slightly at the sight.

“I didn’t even recognize you.” You admitted bashfully, looking behind him to assure there were no other customers waiting. Focusing your gaze on him once again, you couldn’t help but feel relieved that he had finally returned. “Those flowers are beautiful, by the way. Special occasion?”

He hummed, looking down curiously at his attire before meeting your gaze once again.

“Oh, they’re for you, actually.”

This made your finger’s soft drumming against the counter pause, assessing the sincere expression on his face. You gave the store a quick once over.

“I think he left already, Nanami-san.” You laughed softly, trying to quiet the butterflies in your stomach at the idea that he had actually come in to bring you flowers. His thin, blond brows furrowed a fraction at your comment, and he shook his head.

“No, I brought these for you. Also— please call me Kento.” He clarified, watching the way the blood rushed to your cheeks as your eyes ran flusteredly over the bouquet he was handing your way. “I apologize for not having come by recently, I got into quite the accident at work, but I’m feeling better now and would like to take you out. If you’d like, of course.”

Your fingers wrapped hesitantly over the bouquet. Leaning forward, you gently breathed in the delicate scent emanating from the flowers. It was mixing with Kento’s cologne, wafting into your senses in an intoxicating mix. He watched pensively— the way you tried to bite back your smile, but soon enough your teeth were shining brightly at him, cheeks ablaze in a manner that made you appear absolutely radiant. The sight clenched at his bandaged chest, and he wasn’t sure if the burning was coming from his steadily healing ribs or the erratic beat of his heart.

Despite what his rapid blood loss and slipping consciousness had led him to believe that night, help did come in time for him. They cut it incredibly close, but still, when he pried his eyes open the next day, his heart was still beating and his flesh was still warm. He spent a few days in the hospital, Gojo and a few of the students stopping by to see him once they were informed that he’d woken up.

The warm welcome back into the land of the living was kind enough, even if he had to beg them to quiet down at least four times during their half-hour visit. When he returned to his apartment a few days later, each step seemed to take every last bit of energy from his already worn out body. The door opened with a creek, and he was enveloped in silence.

Nanami usually welcomed the blissful peace with open arms, already worn out from the atrocious ways fate had played with him for one day. That night though, it only reminded him of how close he was to dying alone.

So, he stood before you, gazing upon the very smile that had flashed in his mind when he believed himself on the brink of death. Flowers were clutched firmly in his fingers, a reminder of the way you planted the seed of meaning back into his life— of something more than his thus far wasteful nature of crawling through his days had provided.

Kento smiled at you, pounding the final nail in the coffin that held any semblance of dignity you hoped to hold onto when you saw him next.

It was criminal, you thought, how perfect one man could look— how easily he could render you a stuttering mess with just a flash of his golden smile.

“I hope your silence isn’t my cue to take a hint as well.” His honeyed voice quipped, and you could swear there was the faintest hint of amusement in his tone.

“No! I mean— I’d really like that.” You attempted to save face for your flustered state, but you were sure even he could see right through it. “Thank you… for the flowers, Kento.”

Even his name falling from your lips sounded so blissfully intimate in his ears.

“Shall we go then?”

“Oh— now?” You squeaked, checking the time to see it was still only noon, and the shop didn’t close for another few hours. “I don’t close here until—”

“She can take a break!” Your friend suddenly chimed in, having been pretending to stock the shelves (she had been pulling and placing the same book from its shelf for five minutes now). You looked up at her in shock, watching Nanami turn and bow to her in greeting from the corner of your eye. She gave you a pleading look, as if she was the one being pulled from her shift midday by the six feet of pure gentleman that had just graced your store. “The rush has died down. I can hold down the fort for an hour.”

You made a mental note to bring her back something sweet from the café Kento was steering you toward, a guiding hand resting respectfully on the small of your back. Even with the well-mannered placement of his palm, the feeling of his touch at all was turning your brain to mush.

It seemed to all be rushing to you now, as you looked up at him. He was speaking calmly with the woman at the register of the café, and you finally caught onto the almost faded, yellowing bruise on the right side of his face. It lined his sharply defined cheekbone, a tiny scar on the edge that made you wonder how bad it had looked two weeks ago.

What kind of accident had he been in that made him rush to take you on a date with such fervor as soon as he was well enough to leave the house? Better yet, what line of work was he in that put him in such positions? It was all simmering in your mind, growing hotter as you recalled his dodgy answers when you would ask what he did for work.

Kento called your name, the sound slowly pushing its way into your consciousness as you snapped from your haze. He was looking down at you in question.

“What would you like to drink?” The tone of his voice let you know that this wasn’t the first time he’d asked you. Tearing your gaze from his, you gave your coffee order to the barista before nodding in thanks. “Something on your mind?”

You couldn’t help but notice how casually he’d crossed over this boundary with you. Just minutes ago, he was Nanami, your guarded, regular customer who had a knack for entrapping you in never ending daydreams of domesticity and dominating glances. Now though, in a matter of minutes, he had turned into Kento, your date who was paying for your coffee and pulling your chair out for you— asking you about what was on your mind, blissfully unaware of the fact that it was him.

His hazel eyes gazed down at you curiously as he placed an ivory plate in front of you before taking the seat across from yours. Glancing down at the dish, a small smile tugged at your lips. You must not have heard him order in your haze.

“Daifuku?” You grinned teasingly at him. He hummed in amusement, looking down at his own, matching pastry.

“If I remember correctly, you said they were to die for.”

“Yeah, like two months ago.” You laughed, blowing softly on your steaming cappuccino.

“Oh, has the title expired? I can take yours too, if you’ve changed your mind.” He was hiding a tickled smirk as he reached over to grab your plate. You swatted his hand away with a blush, taken aback by his subtly playful nature that had since been concealed behind pressed suits and tinted lenses. With a knowing hum, he looked down at his own plate. “Truthfully, I had been so caught up with work that I had forgotten all about it.”

“That secretive job of yours, huh?” You quipped softly and took a small bite of the chewy sweet, biting back a contented sigh upon the realization that he’d somehow guessed your favorite filling. It was a beat longer before you spoke again, afraid if you pushed it too much, he’d be too quick to throw out another guarded excuse. “Ever the mystery, Kento.”

At the sound of his name, he peered back up at you. You were glad your mouth was occupied by your warm cup now, convinced you would have drooled at the sight of his smoldering gaze.

“I don’t mean to be so… mysterious.” He admitted as he straightened his posture against the café chair. “The truth is, I can’t disclose much about my work. The nature of it is… sensitive. I hope you can understand.”

Your eyes drifted over the bruise on his face, and you thought back to how badly he must have been hurt to have gone MIA for two weeks. Kento was watching you so earnestly though, a glimmer of hope in his usually stoic eyes.

Against your better judgment, your ‘no questions’ policy began influencing an area of your life it definitely should not be touching. The sincerity in his explanation though, paired with his calm and collected demeanor, had all common sense evading you. You raised a brow at him, a breathy laugh slipping past your lips. His head cocked ever so slightly at the noise.

“Funny you should say that, I was like convinced you were yakuza for a while.” You attempted to lighten the mood of the heavy topic at hand— one he didn’t seem ready to explore yet. The serious expression on his face made your laugh falter for a moment, and with a quirk of his thin brow your smile disappeared all together. Your stomach fell uneasily.

Oh fuck.

“Oh, um, I… uh—”

“That was my attempt at a joke, I’m sorry.” Nanami’s tense expression finally broke, a genuine smile splitting across his cheeks at the fear on your face. It did make him wonder though, how you would react to his actual profession. “I assure you I’m not in a gang, though I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not that you think I’d fit the description.”

Jesus, this man was going to make you hurl.

“Yeah, big, buff, and quiet with your strawberry daifuku— so scary, Ken.”

He tried not to feel too proud at your description of his physique, hiding his smirk with a first bite of the dessert in question. A contented hum rumbled in his chest, and you found your lips parting as you watched his face melt in pleasure at something so simple. You didn’t have time to conceal your stare before his eyes opened once again.

Nanami wasn’t sure how he had been blinded for so long at how pleasurable life could be. It had been just beyond his reach, yet it took his near death for him to snap from his ambivalence. The confection he’d glazed his eyes over for years in this little shop, the bewitching girl he’d strolled right past, the ease of connecting with another soul; it was intoxicating how the promise of lighter days filled his senses, lit him ablaze. Looking back at your innocently charmed expression, he couldn’t believe he had almost left this cruel existence behind without ever having been on the receiving end of it.

The sorcerer’s weekly visits to your shop promptly resumed. This time though, he always came bearing gifts; whether it be a hot coffee (having already memorized your order from that first time he heard it), an accompanying pastry, or a fresh set of flowers when he knew your previous ones were beginning to wilt.

Maybe it was overbearing for so early on in your relationship, though he wasn’t even sure he could call it that yet, but he couldn’t help himself. Watching the way your eyes would light up, how your cheeks would flush, and, in recent development, you would lean across the counter to press an appreciative kiss to his clean-shaven cheek— Kento would buy the world for you if it meant he’d have the chance to see such joy one more time.

Much to his surprise and relief, you didn’t bring up the elusive topic of his career again, save for when you’d ask him how his day was going. There were times, so many times, that you had come close. Each time he’d show up with a new, what would have been a inconspicuous had they not been so damn frequent, bruise or cut on his face or arms, the question lingered in the back of your throat. When he’d help you move things around the store, and you watched him lift the still stocked display table with an ease you’d never seen before, even for someone with his impressive build, you bit back your interrogation.

A seed had been planted in your mind though— so tiny you weren’t sure if you were deranged for even having the fleeting thought of it.

Nanami had stopped by the shop one evening when you were stocking the shelves, eye level with the top shelf you were working on as you balanced on your trusty footstool. Your headphones were pressed snuggly against your ears, your soft music occupying any spare space in your mind. A pair of gentle hands settled over your waist, ripping a gasp from your chest as you jolted back. The grip around you tightened as you fell into a warm chest, one arm wrapping around your middle as the other moved to pull the headphones down around your neck.

“Perhaps the noise canceling headphones aren’t the wisest choice when you leave the store unlocked.” Kento’s buttery voice flooded your senses and calmed the fight or flight response his unexpected appearance had triggered. You turned to glare half-heartedly at him as he set you back down on your feet.

“Well, I left it open for you.” You mumbled sheepishly, adjusting the headphones around your neck and nudging your shoulder into his firm chest. As you turned to look up at the box you’d left behind, you missed the way he smiled softly at your comment.

“I’d be far more flattered if you would protect yourself from intruders for me, but I appreciate the thought.” Kento quipped, reaching up to grab the abandoned box from the top shelf just as you stepped up on the stool to grab it. You stepped back down with a shy smile. “I’ll be leaving town this weekend for work.”

“Oh,” You acknowledged quietly, unsure of where he was taking this conversation. Twisting the hem of your sweater awkwardly between your fingers, you chewed on your bottom lip. “Well… I’ll miss you coming to scare the shit out of me when I’m closing?”

“That’s sweet, darling, but I was telling you because I’d like to have you over for dinner before I go.” The sorcerer mused, using his spare hand to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You weren’t sure if your sudden onslaught of nerves and flushed skin was due to the nickname he’d given you, or the thought of going over to his house for the first time. Attempting to stop where your racing thoughts seemed to be wandering to, you began to absentmindedly grab books from the box clutched in his grasp to finish shelving them. He peered into the box before grabbing one and finding its rightful place, hoping to help you in being able to close and get home earlier.

“You sound like you’re about to go to war or something.” You joked hesitantly, but, honestly, the implications of his offer had your pestering curiosity peaking once again. “How long will you be gone?”

“It should only be a day or two.” His attempt at reassurance only served to concern you more though. Maybe, if he said he would be gone for a week or more, you would have understood his supposed urgency in getting one last date in before his trip. With him only being gone two days though? You realized that perhaps something more dire was at play here. Sensing your contemplative state, he halted his stocking and leaned against the shelf to look down at you. “It’s just that— my work is…” Kento’s voice trailed, unsure of where he was going with his explanation.

“I’d love to come for dinner, Ken.” You reassured with a gentle smile. The furrow in his brows, the hope in his eyes, the apprehension in his tone— it told you all you needed to know, and you heard it loud and clear.

It had been a while since Nanami had the chance to delve into one of his old hobbies. Cooking was one that used to be his favorite, something he indulged in before his schedule became so unpredictable and his missions turned more crucial— before he had lost himself to the cruelty of the reality he’d chosen for the sake of a meaningful existence. There was something different about this time though, he thought as his knife sliced expertly through his selected root vegetables. Perhaps it was the knowledge that, once the small, black timer on his counter went off, alerting him that his veggies were done boiling, that he’d be one step closer to setting a plate down before you.

The sorcerer glanced back at his modest dining table, already set up with two plates and utensils, taking a deep breath before wiping his hands and checking the time on his watch. It was already five minutes past the time he’d told you to come by, but he figured closing was simply taking longer than expected. After fifteen minutes though, he found himself frowning over the boiling pot, stepping away to check his phone in case you’d attempted to reach out to him regarding your delay. With nothing to show for, his mind began to race a bit.

You did have a tendency, Nanami had come to understand, of leaving the shop unlocked as you closed. This wouldn’t be so bad would it not be for those damned, clunky headphones you insisted on wearing each time, blocking out any noise possible danger would alert you with. Without much thought of how irrational he may appear, he found himself swiping through to find your contact and hitting ‘call’. It went straight to voicemail.

Yeah, he thought as he abruptly shut off the stove and tossed the towel from his shoulder, fuck the radishes.

Kento had all but ripped the door of his apartment open, barging down the hallway with terrifying calculation as images of you unconscious in the quaint aisles of your shelves flashed through his panicked mind, when he ran straight into you. Instantly recognizing your startled gasp, his hands reached out to steady you as you stumbled back in surprise.

“Kento, I’m so sorry!” You babbled, brushing your wet hair from your face in a frantic attempt to appear put together, when you knew deep down you were anything but. The man before you was staring down at you with a relieved expression, but it faded as quickly as it came as he took in your appearance.

You were practically soaked, mascara running mortifyingly down your eyes and onto your flushed cheeks. The delicate, ivory sundress you wore was clinging against your wet skin, and Nanami forced himself to respectfully avert his eyes from what the now see-through fabric was revealing. There was a wine bottle clutched desperately between your fingers as you waved your hands in explanation. “I know I’m late, I wanted to bring you some wine, but the store was short staffed so the line was abysmal. Then the train got delayed, and it started to rain, and my phone died. I’m sorry I look a me—”

The baffled man stepped forward, clutching your jaw between his calloused hands to lift your gaze to meet his. Despite your dishevled appearance, smeared makeup, and frigid clothes, all Nanami could think about was how relieved he was to see you well. Additionally, as you rattled off all the ways in which your night hadn’t gone as planned, the only thoughts in his mind were how grateful he was that these silly, insignificant little hiccups were the extent of your day to day battles.

It was so like him, so ingrained in his very being to expect the worst. The truth was though, not everybody’s life was on the line everyday. Not everybody drifted through life in survival mode as he had grown accustomed to doing. Some people missed the train and got caught in the rain, and his heart was so full with the notion that you were one of those people with such domestic struggles. On the other side of it all as well, you braved through them to come see him, and he didn’t think he could ever find you more beautiful than he did in that moment.

He exhaled with softly drawn brows, allowing his hazel eyes to appreciate each streak the rain left on your delicate features before leaning down to kiss you. Your lips were frigid against his, and you leaned into his warmth, the shame of soaking through his neatly ironed dress shirt with your rain soaked body flying out your head as he wrapped his arm around your shivering form in an attempt to draw out all chilliness that dared disturb you. The hand that gripped your jaw slid down and around your neck to tangle into your nape, tugging you closer.

You pulled away for a breath, but Kento chased your lips with determination, quickly capturing them once again. His fingers pressed firmly into your nape as if to stop you from escaping him so prematurely again. Accepting your fate with a graceful willingness, you reached up with your free hand to grip at his shoulder in an attempt to pull yourself up and closer to him. It wasn’t until a shiver ran down your spine, though you weren’t sure if it was due to your soaked clothes or the desperation he was pouring into the unexpected kiss, that the gentleman in Nanami tugged him from his primal desires.

Pulling back with a heave, the sorcerer took a moment to compose himself, eyes drifting over your shivering figure. He ran a hand down his jaw, pretending not to notice the way you panted softly as you stared up at him with those wide, glistening eyes that made him rethink his restraint.

“It… the wine I brought isn’t that nice, you know.”

As Kento shut the apartment door behind him, he couldn’t help but feel the smallest bit awkward for the way he came onto you so suddenly, though something about the glowing smile you were attempting to conceal told him you didn’t mind as much as he did. You looked up from your search around his tidy apartment when he cleared his throat. It was evident in his face how he’d caught himself off-guard, barely able to look you in the eye. You bit your lip to hide your amusement.

“You must be freezing. I’ll grab you some dry clothes.”

You opened your mouth to stop him, but he had already disappeared into the hallway. Now by yourself in his space, you took the chance to unabashedly look around. It was just as you expected his apartment would look like; warm, pristinely kept, and it held an air, just like him, that something deeper was hidden within the cream colored walls. A warm smile fell on your lips at the spread he’d prepared, and you placed the wine bottle on the counter to continue your search. Just as your eyes drifted to the stack of books on the coffee table, the man returned, a small stack of clothes in one hand and a towel in the other.

“Please feel free to dry up in the restroom. Take your time, I’m just finishing up dinner.” He offered as he placed the soft articles into your arms. With flushed cheeks, you took note of the sweatpants and sweater he’d picked out for you.

“No, really, I’ll be fine. You made everything so nice, I would hate to be in pajamas.” You shook your head bashfully, nudging the items back into his hands.

“And I would hate for you to get sick sitting in wet clothes all night.” He countered with a playful shove of his clothes back into your chest.

“I am not having dinner in sweatpants when you’re in a suit, Kento.” Another shove back at him. This time, he tilted his head, his lips pursed in mock frustration, but you could see the playfully challenging glint in his hazel eyes. Straightening his posture, the blond accepted the clothes you shoved his way this time.

“Oh, is that what this is about?” He challenged before nodding softly to himself. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment then.” Confusion crept up in you as you watched him walk back down the hallway without another word, shutting the door of what you presumed was his bedroom behind him. You sat, slightly dumbfounded, on one of the dining chairs and cringed at the feeling of your cold, wet dress pressing against your thighs.

It was only moments later that he reemerged. Abandoned were his previous, light blue button down and khaki slacks, and in their place were a simple, white tshirt and plaid pajama pants. You felt your heart race a bit at the casualness of it all, how at ease he looked with his once neatly placed hair ruffled from the swiftness he had yanked the cotton shirt over his head. Biting at the inside of your cheek in any attempt to control your facial expressions, you watched his biceps flex as he handed you the previous stack of clothes with finality.

“No excuses now, hm?”

So, you and Kento sat at his formally set dining table that night and sipped at your wine glasses in your— well— his pajamas. The change of scenery helped ease some of the expectations for your date to go a certain way, setting a domestic tranquility over the evening as he watched you with his knuckles pressed against his cheek. Your face appeared fresher than he’d ever seen it, likely due to the fact that you had had no choice but to wash your ruined makeup off of your face while freshening up in his bathroom. It made his heart soar, as he imagined this is just how you appeared in your own space— comfortable, vulnerable, and beared truly to the world. It allowed him to see every freckle and blemish, every blush more clearly.

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t help himself as he moved to grab your plate to place in the sink, leaning down and pressing a lingering kiss to your awaiting lips as you tilted your head up to him expectantly. You already had pinpointed that look in his eyes. Under your breath, you thanked him for dinner as he pulled away slowly, your noses brushing together softly. For a moment, Nanami thought as he peered over his shoulder from his place in front of the sink, it felt as though you always had a place right there at his dining table, with his sweatpants rolled up at your ankles and his sweater swallowing you so warmly. He tried to think of anything else, because the thought of you taking up residence so comfortably in his space was exciting him way too quickly for a first home visit. The sorcerer cleared his throat.

“Oh, I had almost forgotten,” He began, placing the last, scrubbed plate onto the drying rack. You didn’t pretend to not be staring when he turned to face you again, leaning so delectably against the counter behind him. “Have you heard back about your applications?”

“My applications?” You questioned with furrowed brows, fingers rubbing pensively against your nearly empty wine glass. In an instant, though, you recalled one of the first conversations you had had with him, the one that planted that seed of intrigue in your mind in the first place. Your eyes fluttered down to the red liquid sloshing around the bottom of your glass. “Oh right. Well, can I be honest?”

Nanami only hummed in response, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“I never actually went through with my entrance exams. I… had a change of heart, I guess.”

“A change of heart, huh?” He repeated thoughtfully, regarding you with a curious gaze. You only nodded curtly, feeling small under his studious eyes. “What changed?”

Kento had pushed off of the counter to walk closer to you and lean instead on the table in front of you. You swallowed thickly at the sudden proximity. Setting your glass down beside him, you looked down at your laps, fingers twisting in the soft cotton of his grey sweatpants.

“I thought about what you said.” You confessed quietly. Peering up at him through your lashes, you didn’t miss the way his features contorted in perplexity. “You know, about how having an escape is just as important as getting your hands dirty. I… didn’t want to give it all up, but I couldn’t live with the guilt of not playing some sort of role in helping. You coming in every week… it made me realize that I was— y’know, in my own way.”

It felt as though all the resolve he’d built up over the years, trying to protect himself from caring too much again, it had all been for not. Here you were, an angel put down the middle of his path of unrighteousness, gracing him with your kindness, your humility and gentleness, yet you had the nerve to spill such fantasy from your plush lips that he had been the one to show you the path of meaning.

Kento’s hands worked mindlessly to pull you up by your gentle hands so that you stood between his thighs. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, allowing his other hand to find purchase on the back of your head as he pulled you into him.

One day, he thought to himself as you wrapped your startled arms around his chest, perhaps he’d tell you of the horrors that had led him to where he was today. Maybe over coffee and daifuku, he’d tell you of the boy who couldn’t save his best friend and cursed the world because of it. You’d smile and ask the blond about him— what he was like and all the memories he’d kept buried in his imprisoned mind for so long. Kento would tell you he was just like you; tender-hearted and with the willingness to save the world— existing in the same reality he had deemed fatuous and yet still holding that love for others that poured out with each wide lipped smile.

For now though, Nanami wanted you to remain just as you were; only plagued by long grocery store lines and dodgy weather. The sorcerer wanted you to continue to find meaning in your books and your flowers, even if just for a little longer.

“I’m glad.” Kento murmured against your damp hair, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple before releasing you from his firm grip. “The world needs you as you are now. No need to change anything.”

And there it was— that innocently animated smile gleaming up at him as if there was no wrong in the world. He smiled back at you, and you must have seen the misty haze in his eyes.

“What’s that look for?” You questioned in amusement, tugging at the sleeves of his tshirt absentmindedly. He shook his head, reaching up to brush your hair behind your ears.

“You just remind me of someone, is all.”

The two of you silently agreed that you weren’t ready to part ways just yet, evident in the way you lingered too long on otherwise pointless conversations, and how neither dared look toward the front door. You had confronted him about all his books that were still wrapped up and stacked neatly on his coffee table, teasing him about how the escapism qualities he spoke so highly of wouldn’t work if he never actually opened them up. Kento allowed you to rummage through them, recounting each memory you had of wrapping up each respective cover.

He watched with soft eyes as you laid back between his legs on the couch, one of his abandoned books laid snuggly in your lap as you read it to him, claiming if he wouldn’t make the time to read them that you’d do it for him. Your head rose and fell in tandem with his breaths as he laid underneath you, allowing your honeyed voice to fill his senses and breathe more life into his quaint apartment than he’d ever felt in the years he’d resided in it.

You tilted your head back to look at him as the hand that wasn’t occupying your raised thigh came down to brush along the swells of your cheeks. A dazzling, bashful smile flashed his way as you raised a knowing brow at him.

“Are you even listening to me, Ken?” You laughed, feeling dizzy with the way he gazed at you as if you’d hung the stars in the sky. He immediately shook his head, and you laughed breathlessly at his bluntness. Leaning down, he pressed a longing kiss against your lips, his nose brushing against your chin as you tilted up to meet the motion eagerly. His fingers tightened around your thigh, and he allowed them to drift up just a fraction before he stopped himself.

“I was busy reminding myself of the pretty things in my life, darling.”

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candycandy00 · 4 months ago

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Finding Love in a Zombie Apocalypse - A JJK Interactive Romance Fanfic Round 2

Read the details about this event here!

During a zombie apocalypse, you meet a group of seven handsome men. Which one will you choose to be your survival/romantic partner?

Vote for the man you want to be eliminated! The man with the most votes will not be killed off in the story, but he will be removed from all future polls and his branching story will be closed off!

Reminder: Vote for the man you DO NOT want to survive with! You are voting someone OUT!

For the first two rounds, I’m not naming the men. You can probably figure out who is who, but that’s part of the fun! I’m doing it this way to encourage readers to vote based on the scenario rather than just automatically voting out their least fave character. Feel free to make guesses about who each man is!

In Round 1, Man #1, Choso, was eliminated!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

You’ve decided to stick with this group for the time being. They’re a nice mix of strong, smart, and caring. None of them come across as creepy or make you uncomfortable, which is saying a lot considering it’s a group made up entirely of men relatively close to your age.

You spend the evening gathering what supplies you need into a duffel bag you found in the store’s rather scant sporting goods section. At night, one of them insisted you sleep in the stock room and keep the key until morning. He really was very considerate, and none of the others objected.

The next day, someone makes coffee in the break room. You don’t know which one did it, but it’s the first cup you’ve had in over a week and tastes delicious. With foam cup in hand, you walk over to the front entrance to check the situation outside, only to find the man who called out to you yesterday keeping watch.

Man #1: Choso (Eliminated in Round 1)

He’s standing near the door, slightly to the side, still as a statue until you approach.

“Want me to bring you some coffee?” you ask, taking a sip from your cup.

He smiles at you. “Thanks, but I had some already.”

You gesture toward the entrance. “Anything new going on out there?”

“No, just a dozen or so zombies roaming around,” he replies. “They come close to the door sometimes, but with these tinted windows they can’t see much of what’s inside.”

You hadn’t realized they were tinted until he mentioned it, but you suppose that’s why everything looks so dreary outside.

As you stare out the window, you notice something in the distance. You squint your eyes, trying to make out if it’s just another zombie or something else. As you watch, the figure picks up speed, breaking into a run.

“Look! There’s someone out there!” you shout, pointing to the figure fleeing toward the store.

The man beside you looks out through the glass door. “It’s definitely a living person!”

Behind the figure, a large group of zombies, perhaps the biggest group you’ve seen, is slowly giving chase. The figure stumbles, hits the ground, and you feel your heart race. You’ve witnessed zombie attacks before, but it’s always disturbing. And you can’t help thinking that this could easily have been you yesterday.

You want to open the door and beckon the figure, but that’s not your call to make. You’re a guest with this group, and you don’t have the right to put their safety at risk.

Thankfully, the kind hearted man beside you makes that choice. He flings the door open and calls out, “Hey! Run this way! To the grocery store!”

The figure looks up, and from this distance they appear to be a young man. He scrambles to his feet and breaks into another run, a desperate dash for the store.

You and the man both yell out to him, encouraging him to hurry and keep going. Just as he runs through the door, two zombies that must have been close to the entrance follow him in, shambling into the store.

Man #2:

Before anyone else can react, the large, imposing man who tore the zombies off you yesterday runs by you. With his bare hands he picks up the first zombie by the neck and literally throws it outside. Then he delivers a devastating punch to the second zombie’s head, knocking it clean off its shoulders.

You yelp in surprise, having never seen someone kill a zombie in such a way before. Someone closes the door and locks it, but the herd of zombies definitely saw the young man run inside, because they’re heading straight for the store.

Backing away from the door, you glance at the man who took care of the two zombies. “Do you think the glass will hold?”

He doesn’t seem the least bit scared. “Probably not against a horde like that.”

“What should we do?” you ask, trying not to sound panicked as the zombies close in.

He grins. “You should run when they break in. I’ll tear the fuckers apart.”

Uncertain whether that statement is comforting or alarming, you turn to look at the newcomer. He’s a teenager, probably around sixteen, and he’s panting to catch his breath.

You walk over to him. “Are you alright?”

He looks up at you, and his face is twisted in horror. “I’m so sorry!” he yells, tears in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have come in here!”

“It’s alright,” you tell him, reaching your hand out to pat his shoulder. “We’ll figure something out. We’ll-“

He swats your hand away. “Don’t! I… I’ve been…” his voice dies in his throat, and he pulls up the sleeve of his shirt, displaying a messy bite wound.

You inhale sharply, your heart sinking at the sight. He’s just a kid! “How long ago?” you ask. You’ve heard rumors that severing a limb with a bite will stop the spread of the virus, but it has to be done quickly.

“Yesterday,” he answers.

The man who fought the zombies steps up beside you. “Too long,” he says, his eyes narrowed as he looks at the wound. “We should probably throw him out. He’s no good to us.”

You look at him incredulously. “We can’t do that!”

Man #3:

The man you spoke to yesterday who seemed like a leader, who was clearly a planner, walks over. He looks at the boy, then at you. “We’ll need to discuss this,” he says.

“Discuss what? What are the options here?” you ask him. “Let him stay or toss him out there to be eaten alive?!”

The man’s smooth expression doesn’t change. “Those aren’t the only options. We could tie him up, lock him in the break room, or even give him a quick and painless death.”

You feel your outrage subsiding. Those sound much more reasonable. You’re surprised he can think so rationally in this situation. “Okay. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

He smiles that same charming, not-quite-genuine smile he gave you yesterday. “Don’t be. Tensions are running high, so it’s understandable. I’d worry more if you were the type to want to throw him out immediately.”

You sigh in relief, then turn toward the boy, who is still muttering apologies. “What would you like for us to do? Restrain you? Or… or make it so you don’t turn?”

The boy looks up at you. “I don’t want to turn! Please, don’t let me end up like them! I’d do it myself but I’m too scared!”

Hearing such a young man say that is heartbreaking. But you understand. If you ever get bitten, you hope someone will kill you before letting you become a zombie, doomed to roam the earth, rotting and attacking others.

The man pulls a blade from a holster on his hip and approaches the boy. “Are you ready? Or do you need more time?”

The boy hesitates for a moment, then nods. “I’m ready. Please make it quick!”

The man pats him on the back affectionately. “You’re very brave. You can rest easy now. I’ll make sure you don’t suffer.”

The boy is staring at him, and seems comforted. “Thanks,” he says with teary eyes.

You turn your head, unable to watch. You don’t hear a sound. No scream, not even a grunt. It really must have been painless. When you look back, the man is easing the boy’s body to the floor. He looks thoughtful, maybe a little sad.

“I’m sorry you had to do that,” you say.

He’s wiping his blade off on a handkerchief. “Someone has to make the tough decisions, and then carry them out.”

You start to ask why that had to be him, but you remain silent. You don’t like the way he seems to be taking all the darkness and sadness onto himself. But you have bigger things to worry about right now.

Man #4:

The man you saw standing guard yesterday, who said he wanted to go back to the city, is staring out the windows of the store, watching the growing horde approach. He doesn’t seem scared, only annoyed, as if this is no more than a minor obstacle to his plans.

“I’m gonna get out of here,” he says, loud enough for the others to hear. “I don’t have time to get held up.”

You look at him in shock. “You’re just going to leave the rest of us?”

He looks at you dispassionately. “A group will draw their attention a lot more than a single person. I’m not getting stuck with these guys.”

You look him up and down, at his sturdy physique. “But, we need you.”

“You ever stop to think that maybe someone else needs me?”

The question takes you aback. You have no answer for him. If he’s that desperate, if he’s willing to wade through countless zombies to get to the city, there must be someone very important to him there.

“Can you at least wait a little while?” you ask him. “The zombies might give up and wander off if they can’t see us through the tinted windows.”

The man sighs. “Fine. I’ll see what happens.”

You look out at the horde. The first few zombies have reached the front of the store and are clawing at the windows and doors. You shudder as you watch them. You’ve never seen so many before, or so close up in a situation where you can actually get a good look at them. If one is close, you’re usually fleeing or trying to kill it.

They’re all staring straight ahead, seemingly at nothing. Can they see their own reflections in the glass? Can they even perceive themselves? Seeing them just leaves you feeling empty and sad.

“Do me a favor,” the man says. “If I ever get bitten, put a bullet in my fucking brain.”

You nod. “Same,” you say.

Man #5:

The man who gave you the tip yesterday about using duck tape on your arms steps over to the windows to survey the situation. He already has his arms wrapped in a layer of the tape, over top of his sleeves. A few of the others notice, and begin wrapping their own limbs in tape or thick fabric, so you do the same.

He steps closer to you and takes the roll of tape from your hand, then begins wrapping your forearm for you.

“Thanks,” you tell him, hoping he can’t hear how nervous the growing horde outside is making you.

He seems as calm as the more physically imposing men, despite having a more slender frame. “Our best option would be to bang on the glass and draw their attention to the front, then all of us slip out the back way,” he says.

You glance toward the back of the store. “Should we check to see if they’ve circled around?”

He nods, and the two if you make your way back, through the storage area and to a large drop down gate. You assume trucks come in this way to unload merchandise. But it’s locked up tight and you can’t see anything on the other side.

“There’s a window up there,” the man says, pointing. You have to use a step ladder to reach it, but you both climb up to look out.

There aren’t nearly as many zombies roaming around behind the store, but there are definitely enough to be a problem.

“I think we can make it through, but it’s going to be a challenge,” he tells you.

You feel fear creeping up your spine. So far you’ve been able to evade most large groups of zombies, but with the store being surrounded, it’s looking like you’re going to have to wade into them.

As the two of you return to the front, you feel your spirits sinking.

Man #6:

The man with the bright smile comes up beside you as you stare out hopelessly at the zombies gathered at the windows.

“I’ve seen bigger hordes,” he says.

You look up at him. “You have?”

He grins. “Sure. They’re not so bad when you realize how slow and uncoordinated they are.”

You appreciate his optimism. But you realize it’s more than that. His confidence rings true, and it makes you feel a little more hopeful.

“So you think we can get out?” you ask.

He nods, still smiling, then gestures to where a few of the men are standing in a small circle. “They’re planning our escape right now. We’ve got some real smart guys here, so don’t worry.”

You finally return his smile. “I hope you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” he replies.

Just then you hear something, like tinkling glass. Both you and the man look around for the source of the noise. After a few minutes, you spot a tiny crack in the glass, right where over a dozen zombies are pressing against the windows.

“They’re breaking the glass!” you cry, backing away.

The man calls over to his friends, “Guys, put a rush on that brilliant plan!”

They look up and rush over to check the crack.

Man #7:

The man you met in the stock room yesterday is the first to crouch down and examine the crack in the glass. His brow is furrowed as he watches the zombies shove themselves against the window, then he turns to face the others.

“Everyone, get whatever you need and be ready to go in ten minutes. We’ll take our chances going out the back.”

You already had your backpack ready, so you pull it onto your shoulders as the other men begin doing the same. You feel your heart racing as you prepare for the fight of your life.

The man is securing his own pack with a strap around his waist and checking the heavy denim sleeves of the jacket he’s wearing. He seems uncomfortable in the fabric, as if it’s not something he’d normally wear, but protection is the most important thing right now.

“What do you think our chances are?” you ask him.

He looks around the room. “With this group? Pretty good. If we all stick to the plan,” he adds, glancing at a couple of guys in particular. Then he looks back at you. “Try to stay in the middle of us. We can protect you.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. “I guess I lucked out when I stumbled upon you guys.”

He gives you a warm smile. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

Just then, you hear glass breaking, another crack at first, and then a shattering that startles everyone in the store. Right beside you, the first zombie crashes inside, and the man grabs your arm, pulling you back behind him.

As the zombie horde begins shambling into the store, the men around you take defensive positions and get ready to fight their way to the back.

Tag List:

@tadabzzzbee @babysoo-meu @atomicweaselpaperapricot

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #sukuna x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #choso x reader #higuruma x reader #x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #fushiguro toji #nanami kento #sukuna #choso kamo #higuruma hiromi

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