Douma Harem + Douma Oneshots

?Kokushibo X Douma?

(A/N: it's one of those florist tattoo oneshots because I was bored. Sorry for the wait, I'm on holiday)

Kokushibo frowned, looking at his sketch. It didn't look exactly how the customer had described it. Something was wrong, the proportions, the colouring?

He spun the paper around, showing it to the girl opposite him. She looked at it questioningly.

"Hm... it's different that what I had in mind," she began, tapping at the drawing. "I don't want that line there, and can you add, like, a butterfly here?"

"Sure." Kokushibo glanced at the gothic looking clock on the wall. Five minutes, then his work day was over. He placed the pencil back on the notebook again, editing his drawing.

It took a minute or so for Kokushibo to make the alterations, adding in the insect the woman wanted.

"Like this?" He asked, showing her. She nodded, smiling at him. "Good. We can get started tomorrow."

"Sounds good. Do you have any availability between 5-6pm?"

Kokushibo shrugged. "Nakime over there does our bookings. Go talk to her about it."

The woman left, going over to the desk. Kokushibo folded up the notepad, placing it on the chair.

His work was eventually over. It felt like he'd been swamped. First there was that dude with low pain tolerance that got some stuff done in his back - he cried so much Kokushibo felt like putting on headphones. After his lunch break, he had to deal with a lady whose son got a tattoo here, but she didn't like it and asked for them to 'wash it off'.

She was insistent that that was how tattoos worked, and it took Kokushibo half an hour and three cups of coffee to convince her otherwise.

He stretched, hearing his bones crack. Oof, he really had been sitting down too long. The time was only one o'clock, but he'd gotten permission from his boss, Muzan, to get early leave today.

With it being his brother's wedding and all that.

He slipped his hoodie on, the checkered purple and black fabric loose and baggy. Waving to Nakime - who didn't wave back, how rude - Kokushibo opened the door, the sound of traffic assaulting his ears the moment he stepped outside.

Alright. He had three hours before the wedding began, but he should probably be there early since he was the best man, after all. Half an hour early was fine. The wedding was a fifteen minute drive, twenty if there was traffic. He had plenty of time.

Shit.

He'd forgotten presents. Kokushibo slapped a hand to his forehead. How stupid of him... trust him to be a professional procrastinator.

Maybe something to decorate their house with? Did Yoriichi like plants? There was a flower shop around here somewhere, right? Yoriichi's fiancé liked flowers, he was pretty sure.

He walked down the street, typing into his Google Maps the nearest flower shop. Three minutes walk away. Phew. He plugged his headphones into his ears, turning up the music to drown out the sound of cars.

He reached the flower shop soon enough. It looked fine, maybe a bit too colourful. He opened the door, a cheery bell jingling when he did.

Kokushibo immediately felt out of place. Everything here was so greenish and delicate, and here he was, this 6"3 dude in a black hoodie and baggy trousers, with two flame tattoos across his face. His hand twitched inside his pocket, feeling cold and clammy.

His fingers traced over his phone, circling around the home button repeatedly. It reeked in here, the floral scent overpowering to his sensitive nose. It made his eyes water, not that anyone could see behind his sunglasses.