#then he doesn't even go there early and goes around lunch time

[fazcinatingblog]

What I'm afraid of, Tumblr, is that if I tell my boss that the ATO correspondence is up to shit or say I'm struggling or mention that everyone keeps bothering me or anything else, then she'll just deal with it in the /wrong way/. I don't know what the solution is but I know she won't be able to help because what I want isn't possible and I know that and I know I don't have an excuse for only charging $100 plus GST for a BAS, I know I did the wrong thing, I just felt using the timesheets was too much of a jump ($190 X 2.5 hours) compared to the previous invoice and

[a-pastel-edgelord]

Shinsuke Kita is a man who likes what he likes and gives little thought to things he doesn't. He'll go about his daily routine: rise with the sun, eat, morning ablutions, out to the fields until lunch, take a break, then back into the fields until dinner, do chores around the house then a small past time or two until it's time for bed. Unless it's the weekend or a game day, then he goes to Onigiri Miya to catch up with Osamu, Gin, Akagi and Omimi around lunch time.

However, he finds himself going to Onigiri Miya a little earlier on some days with the hopes of catching you while you're on shift. You're a part-timer and university student—but Osamu has been telling him that you have the chops to run the restaurant by yourself. "I know I don't hafta worry about leavin' for an hour or so. S'good feeling, Kita."

It's easier to like someone if a friend vouches for them. Yes, that must be the reason he's fond of you, because Osamu is. He arrives at the restaurant an hour early—an electronic bell chimes through as he enters. It's busy as usual but there's no line.

"Welcome!" You look up from the register and beam. "Kita-san! I'll call the boss over, he's in the back doing inventory."

Before he can protest, you've bounced away. He hears a muffled conversation the opening of a door and a moment later Osamu takes your place with a raised eyebrow. "Yer awfully early, Kita. S'not delivery day is it?"

"Nah, nothin' like that. Just... Had some spare time."

"Spare time huh." Osamu repeats, like he's tasting the words for the first time. "Well, did ya want anythin' ta eat? The usual?"

"Sure, that'll do."

"Uh-huh." Osamu leans back to shout into the kitchen. "Go ahead and make Kita his usual!"

You respond in a sing-song voice. "Already started!"

Shinsuke can't help the grin that hitches onto his features even as Osamu casts a wary but amused eye over him. The two men make eye contact for a few beats before Osamu sighs. "Please don't go scarin' off some of the only good help I've been able ta find."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Yeah-huh."

But nothing else can be said on the subject because you emerge from the back with a tray laden with food. There's even a side of fried tofu—not typically part of his order. You must have seen him looking because you hurriedly explain, "The boss said you like tofu, so I just did some up. I hope that's ok." Osamu rolls his eyes and walks back to the kitchen, catching Kita's eye as he goes.

"S'just fine." Kita takes the tray. "But I'd like to repay ya."

"You don't have to do that! It's my pleasure." You try and reassure.

"Then it'd be my pleasure to make ya dinner some time. Could do it today, after the game if that's ok?"

As you fumble through saying yes, Shinsuke savors his first bite of food. Yeah, he could eat your cooking for the rest of his life he thinks. It would be a nice addition to his routine.

[sujiri]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🧸his life lately

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: nanami kento x fem!reader, papamin!au, househusband!nanami, short mention of gojo satoru, fluff

being a househusband was not kento's expectations in his married life with you, but here he is now.

waking up early in the morning is always his thing already, it's sticks to his routine every since then. to tell you, this man doesn't really struggles getting up early in the morning, he would go straight to the bathroom to start his routine. then going to your daughter's crib to check if she's awake, she is already. that made him smile first. she resembles you, but you always say that she looks way more like him, either way your friends and neighbors would say your daughter looks resembles her father a lot. (there's a thing that if your first born child is a girl, she likely would look more like her father.)

prepping her milk then carrying her as he goes downstairs to place her in her high chair. just close enough to check up on her while he cooks breakfast. another thing is, kento can't cook more like you, he knows limited dishes, that's why you always catch him watching those mom cooking tutorial videos online and he even thought of buying cookbooks to make a change of food and cuisine. he wants to learn, but mostly wants to impress you, it's the little things, yet it never fails you to adore him.

“thank you for the lunch, honey. I'll see you later. Love you both!” you rushed after you kiss your husband and daughter before leaving off to work. it was a bit silent right after. he glances at his child when he hears her babbling noises, making him smile and carry her. “already stuffed?” he asks, as if his daughter will really talk by words.

it's almost night, you're almost home by anytime now as he's taking everything slow. kento can't seem to know what to do next, he finished cooking dinner, he already brought groceries, cleaned around the house, done the laundry, changed his daughter's diapers, feed her, and even read her a story. thinking about it, in this time of the day, he would be busy working in the office back then or doing a mission as a sorcerer. he's having a good life.. a really good life.

“b-bah-bah! ooh!” he snaps and looks at his daughter again and saw her crawling towards him while holding a stuffed toy. kento chuckles and help her by carrying her to sit on his lap, “you like frogs, sweetie?” he asks while showing the frog stuffed toy in front of his child, it's a toy that gojo gifted to his daughter when she turned 1 month old. she babbles with joy, although she haven't said her first words, he feels like he understands everything she says. “what about this teddy?” he grabs another stuffed animal and puts the frog away beside him, his daughter quickly grabs it with her chubby small hands and gives good look of it before she throws it away so suddenly, making kento surprised. “papa bought that for you yesterday,” he says sounding sad and feeling offended when she didn't like the toy he gifted her. her daughter just holds the frog toy again when kento gave it to her, while clueless to her dad's reaction. she giggles while playing the toy, that made him smile again on the other hand, maybe she'll enjoy the teddy he bought after a while. his daughter is too precious. he could always live like this, with you and your daughter in one sweet home.

[wriothesleybear]

Protective Warden

~warnings: x wriothesley, unwanted touching by stranger (grabbed on arm), otherwise just fluff.

~a/n: thank you @harlekin6 for the idea🥰 i hope this satisfies your request❤️

You step off of the elevator, relieved to finally be off of it. Even though you've taken it for the past three years, it still gets tiring from the long ride. You check in at the entrance of the Meropide Fortress. It's a quick check in as usual due to you being known around here by the employees. You were known as the Duke's wife. You were a cute, bubbly, talkative, and outgoing person. The complete opposite of your husband. The workers sometimes wonder to themselves how you two ended up together. You didn't mind their questions, laughing them off because to you, you knew who your husband was. Only you saw his softer and teasing side, the part of him you fell in love with.

You planned to surprise your husband with his favorite lunch today, wanting to spend time with him due to his work schedule keeping him busy. He would usually return late at night after you've fallen asleep and leave early in the morning before you woke up, giving you two no time to spend together. While walking to his office, you greet the usual employees and notice Sigewinnie down the hall. Her eyes shine as she sees you, happy to see you again. After a little small talk, you ask her the whereabouts of your husband. She tells you that he was currently in a meeting, busy interrogating new prisoners. You planned to wait for him in his office, but Sigewinnie excitedly asked if she could show you some new stickers she recently made. How could you say no to that face.

You follow her to her little infirmary. She excitedly shows you all of her new stickers while you give her your full attention, happy to see her like this. You enjoyed spending time with Sigewinne as did she. She was like a daughter to you. She saw you and Wriothesley like parents to her. After a while of listening to Sigewinnie talk about puffy stickers, you both were suddenly interrupted by a rookie guard entering the infirmary.

"Miss Sigewinnie, I have a prisoner who is feeling unwell. Could you take a look at him?"

"Of course! You can bring him in." She said, getting her medical instruments ready. A tall man enters the room. He didn't look scary or dangerous so you thought nothing of it. Sigewinnie tells him to sit on the infirmary bed so she can check him out. You notice while he walks over to the bed, he keeps looking at you. You pay it no mind. It takes a few minutes for Sigewinnie to figure out what was wrong and she goes into an adjacent room to make some medicine for the inmate. The whole time, the inmate keeps watching you which begins to make you a bit uncomfortable. He begins talking to you, giving you compliments on how beautiful you looked. You were polite and thanked him but continued to be uncomfortable. You hoped the visit would be over soon so he could leave. Suddenly, he gets up from the bed and walks over to where you were sitting, deciding to sit in the chair next to you. He was a bit too close causing you to scoot away from him. You ask him politely to leave you alone, not wanting to piss him off by being rude, but he ignored your request and continued bothering you. He began to say more inappropriate things to you while eyeing you up and down. You had enough and got up from your seat, planning to talk to the guard waiting outside the room. But before you could leave, the inmate grabs your arm harshly.

"Where do you think you're going. It's rude to ignore someone where they're talking to you. It's not everyday I get to see a beautiful chick like you."

You try to break your arm free, sternly telling him to let you go. He laughs and doesn't let up his grip. You begin to push him away causing him to get mad. He pulls you towards him, his grip tightening causing you pain. You yelp. Suddenly, theres a loud crash as the infirmary door is slammed open. You both look over to the doorway and see your husband. He notices the inmate's hand on you and quickly moves over to him. Wrio roughly grabs the man's shirt, moving him away from you and getting the man to remove his grip on you. He slams him against the wall. Anger is evident on your husband's face while he silently glares at the prisoner. The room begins to get a bit chilly due to your husband's vision.

"Why are you putting your hands on my wife." Wrio coldly asks.

"Wrio." You put your hand on his back and gently call his name, wanting to stop him before he beats the prisoner to a pulp. He relaxes a little. He calls the rookie guard in and orders him to take the prisoner into solitary confinement.

"Y-yes sir!" the guard nervously says before he quickly takes the prisoner away. Once they're gone, Wrio turns to you with a soft look.

"Are you okay?" he asks as he walks closer to you. You gently smile at him and nod your head. He looks down at your arm, noticing a red mark forming where the prisoner grabbed you. His anger flares again but he stops himself, focusing his attention on you. He pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arm tightly around you while he strokes your hair.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here to protect you. What are you doing here anyways? I didn't know you were going to visit."

"I wanted to surprise you with lunch and spend time with you. It's been a few days since we've spent time together and I missed you." You tell him as you nuzzle into his chest. He chuckles from your cuteness of being honest with your feelings.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to spend time with you lately. I promise I'll make it up to you by spending the whole day with you on my next day off."

"Deal." You giggle.

"Come on. Let's go eat." While you two walk to his office, he has your fingers intertwined, walking close to you to make sure you are protected. You arrive to his office. He sits in his chair while you go get another chair to put beside him.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"I'm looking for a chair."

"Don't need one. Come here." He pats his lap. You blush, walking over to him. Even though you've sat in his lap many times before, you still get a bit bashful.

"But you can't eat if I'm in your lap Wrio." Without another word, he pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you so you can't escape. He nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving a quick kiss on it, making you squirm.

"Wrio." You shyly say. He chuckles at your cuteness.

"What did you bring me for lunch?" He asks, changing the subject.

"Your favorite. Steak with a side of vegetables and mashed potatoes." You say as you take everything out.

"Smells good. I bet it takes great. I always enjoy your cooking."

"Yeah, I don't explode the kitchen when cooking." You tease.

"Hey, that just means it's going to taste great."

You laugh. "I will give you that. Your food does come out tasting yummy even thought you ruin the kitchen. But I suppose it's worth it." You cut the steak, taking a piece on the fork and holding it out for him. "Here. Say ahh." You tease.

He sighs. "I'm not gonna say ahh but I'll still take a bite." He eats the piece of steak. "Delicious." You feed him the rest of his meal, taking some bites for yourself here and there. Once you two finish, he kisses you and thanks you for lunch. Even when his work schedule gets in the way of your time together, special moments like these make up for it.

[halaboyz]

spice and everything nice, seonghwa

ceo! ateez seonghwa x gn, employee! reader fluff wc: 11.4k warnings: rather detailed description of food and eating, ALL OVER THE PLACE ! not my best work but my best efforts though a/n: rrAAAAHHH i think this is my first time trying this trope?? lmao anw its inspired by a lot of scenes in kdrama 'dreaming of a freaking fairytale'! giving lots of my gratitude to my one and only ducky 4 deciding with me (which... ended up with spin the wheel) @ricsang !! ilysm <3

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to move out as soon as... tomorrow morning." Your landlord drops the bomb, and leaves you without a second glance, leaving you with a piece of dismissal paper and a list of your unpaid dues.

You gawk, closing the door behind you helplessly as your eyes wander around your flat, eye twitching at the sudden— is it really sudden— news with your head still hazy from the sunlight.

Sighing, your fingers quickly call your friend, your one and only, already placing a default smile on your face, although he won't see it. "My lovely, most gorgeous, kindest, prettie—,"

"What the fuck do you want so early in the morning?" Wooyoung growls through the line, and you hear his bed sheets as he probably twists and turns from his bed.

"Clear your lawn." Your default smile drops, "I'm moving in your lawn for a few days. I'll be there by lunch,"

You don't even wait for his answer before you drop the call, finally washing up to start and clean up the flat you've been living in for years, and been leeching off for months already.

"I cannot, for the life of me, absolutely believe you." Wooyoung stares at you in bewilderment, movers working behind you as they drop your boxed things in his lawn.

"I cannot absolutely believe how broke I am too, thank you very much. Do you have food? I'm starving. I spent my last on the moving company," You comfortably made your way through his house, immediately going to the kitchen and found his mom's kimchi lying in the counter.

"Don't touch anything, I'll just make you lunch," Wooyoung sighs, while you hop into the high chair, watching Wooyoung move around his territory. "Come on, y/n, just ask your family for some money. They're your family, of course they'll need to help with your masters fees. You've been LOA for what, almost a year now!"

"Look, Mr. Right," You take a gulp of water, "My family is not like yours, all mighty and well that you even have a house of your own while you take your masters, no dues, no bills." You state as a matter of fact, but take no offense of his opinions, picking on the nuts he provided you snack on while he cooks. "My family's already struggling as they are."

"So why take masters? Why not just go and work already?"

"Because they wanted it, too. I helped start my masters with some fees with my part time job, which unfortunately fired me because I ate one of their expired food, and then lived far away so they wouldn't worry much about me." You explained, and he sighs. He's sad he can't do anything to help you lighten your burden, which is why he lets you stay in his house with him.

Of course you had conscience. You insisted to stay in his lawn because you had a tent and a sleeping bag, but Wooyoung was a loyal friend after all. After a little more insisting from Wooyoung and his mom which he called for help, you and Wooyoung had finally agreed until you've found yourself some decent job.

"Don't your company have some free space?" You pout, looking through your laptop's screen for a whole hour now trying to find a job.

"Even if there was, I can't get you in there," Wooyoung sing sung, scrolling through his phone on your bed, lying in his tummy.

"Why? They're that strict?" You squint, facing him.

"The CEO himself handles who goes in and out of his company. Directly. Don't know what goes in that cold head of his," He shrugs, and faces you. "But it doesn't hurt to try. Your degree lines up with mine so they could consider you without a doubt. You also have a high GWA so,"

You nod, knowing there's nothing going to hurt when you try. You've been handing over a hundred resumes for hundreds of companies, what's one more, right?

"Oh my god," You barge into Wooyoung's room one evening, and thankfully he was only lying in his bed, "I got scheduled for an interview at your company tomorrow!"

"For real?" Wooyoung shoots up as he looks at the email on your phone, "It's real..." Wooyoung whispers, and stifles a chuckle. "Be at your fucking best tomorrow, you're getting head on with a fucking bull."

Well, Wooyoung mentioned a bull. But he didn't say that bull was the CEO himself, Park Seonghwa.

Park Seonghwa, consistently chosen as number one for consecutive years already as continuously rising businessman in the fashion industry by different newsletters and publications such as Vogue, GQ, Esquire, Arena Homme, of the many.

He sits in front of you all elegant and mighty, while you sit there almost wanting out with how he gazes at you. You feel so small in front of him, and feel like Wooyoung just dumped you into a hell hole.

But thinking of your situation, this wasn't a time where you feed your ego away to the birds. It was a desperate time, not only for you but also for your family. So you set your embarrassment aside, heading face on with the bull, as Wooyoung adviced.

"You're applying for?" It was like elegance and superiority was oozing out of his lips when he talked. Having a one on one interview with one of the living legends of the fashion industry was making you shake to your toes, goosebumps all over your body.

"Either marketing strategy or marketing secretary, if I may, sir." You confidently reply, straightening your back. Right. It was a time to be arrogant of your skills.

"Without experience, at that," Seonghwa scoffs, and tosses your file to the table. You almost swoon at how he sounds, but quickly shake your head to reality. "You may leave."

"I am quite the ambitious person, sir. And I have my experience. As an intern, you'll see it by the third page," You ignore his last order, sitting still in your chair.

"Which has been five years, and if I may add, at an already closed, blacklisted company," You didn't get to think about that. which almost crumbles your confidence down. but you stand your guard. "Leave."

"Let me prove my skills for a week. Just a week. Whatever tasks you give me, let me prove it." From all the companies that has accepted your almost empty resume that only consisted of academic achievements but zero experiences, you were quite— desperate by a lot.

Seonghwa scoffs again, crosses his legs and leans back to his chair.

"A day." Seonghwa offers, smirking. "Attract ten investors tomorrow, within the day and I'll even accept you to be my direct secretary." Seeing your dumbfounded face was something he found funny, because it was a funny offer, after all. "It's a take it or leave it offer. That's so much time I can offer to a candidate only,"

"We have a deal, then." When he hears your determined voice, he internally scoffs. You keep throwing him out of his zone, being the first one to do that. He raises an eyebrow in interest, letting him know for the last time that you had agreed to his offer for tomorrow.

"Was that a bad idea?" You almost cry to Wooyoung, thinking you're only walking right into the trap of embarrassing yourself.

"I don't want to pop your bubble but... absolutely." Wooyoung gives you a wry smile, patting your shoulder. "The company's been having a hard time getting new investors for a few months now, I think it's due to less and less creatives coming out. That's also why his secretary suddenly quit and signed with a rival company. Thinks it's the start of the downfall of Park Enchante."

You dramatically fall on your knees, losing all hope for yourself.

"I can't believe I just said those to the Park Seonghwa..." You almost whisper, "...who you didn't tell me is your CEO!" You point out when you suddenly remember, jumping to strangle him.

"I didn't get to?" He slyly tries to get out of your room in a hurry, but you immediately grab his jacket.

"You don't understand! He's a living legend! Did you know he's the youngest CEO who has established his own brand? Do you have any idea how much he's earned just a month after he established his company? How lovely his first works were? My god! I could go on and on!"

"It's not my fault that you didn't know his company name!" He struggles out of your reach, trying to calm you down. "And I'm not down bad for fashion like you are! I'm just someone who works at the company! Also, why apply for marketing, you literally have a god-given talent at styling and creating!" Wooyoung blurts out, and it makes you pout.

"I don't draw and sew shit anymore, Woo." You roll your eyes, plopping to the couch. "It's been years, come on now, let it go! I'm majoring in marketing now so goodbye creatives,"

"y/n, you were so good at that, you were even thinking of starting of making your own brand! Why didn't you push through with it anyway,"

"I didn't think I would earn from it anyway. And starting it would cost so much. Don't worry about it, hands were rusty anyway. I wasn't confident with my own works, too." The atmosphere glooms and you take responsibility for it, clapping and taking a sharp breath. "Anyway! Better be ready for tomorrow. You should go rest, I'll be readying files for tomorrow."

"You got the files?"

"Easily. With permission from your great CEO, the temp secretary gave all out to me at once." You sigh, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have 10 clients to meet tomorrow,"

"Holy shit, I can't get used to these big ass revolving doors," You whisper, and determinedly let out a huff as you admire the big Park Enchante blaring on top of the doors. "I'm getting you in my resume." You nod in commitment, patting your chest to cheer yourself up. But before you even take a step in, three consecutive cars rush in the front of the company, and you stop to see in curiosity.

People rush out of the two cars behind, one opening the car door of the first car.

There he was, so elegant and flashy, coming out of the car with his sunglasses on. Another held an umbrella up for him but he immediately takes it with him, shooting the butler a small smile.

It was the first time you see him smile. You never see him smile. In person (from yesterday's experience), online, whatever paper you see him on, he never smiles. Always that poker face, sleek, straightened-back, poised and just pure... elegance.

"Wow. He's so handsome," You curse through gritted teeth, unconsciously holding your breath as you watch him make his way inside. "He couldn't have seen me, right?" That was a surge of shame running down your veins.

It was rich coming from you that you even had the guts to apply to a company like this.

He wouldn't mind if you wouldn't show up for your deal, right?

"Right." You nod, heels turning around as you make up your mind not to show, gripping your coat and stepping away from the big doors.

Before you're stopped by closed, long, black umbrella.

"May I ask where you're going?" Seonghwa, the almighty himself, now without his sunglasses presents by your side, holding the umbrella up to your waist to stop you.

"Hi." You awkwardly chuckle, "I uh, umm," You think of an excuse, sighing. "Going for coffee. Before going in," You smile in default.

"Ah. Five minutes before supposed time in," He checks his watch, and then at you. "I do not condone late comers. And, coffee's provided in the lobby. Why go for a mile walk if you can get it here,"

"Ha. I didn't know that."

"You're pulling back from the deal." He stated as a matter of fact, taking the umbrella down.

"Why would I for a once in a lifetime offer," You chuckle, shaking your hand in front of him. "I need money to save my life, why would I," Being sarcastic doesn't even go through him.

"Get ready in ten. I'm coming with,"

"What?" You blurted out, face contorted into something... desperate. When Seonghwa turns around to look you in the eye once again. He raises his brow at your reaction, and you immediately fall into a default smile once again. "I mean, you're the CEO. Why would you need to come with,"

"I don't think you've heard," He sighs, confidently stepping towards you. "I'm in a quite desperate situation right now. And I can't quite trust an unskilled candidate employee to go alone with my files."

You inhale sharply as you fight the urge to roll your eyes, stepping towards him as well.

"I'll prove my skills, then." You confidently crane your neck, facing him head on with another challenge. "I'll get employed, get my skillful ass paid, and get out of your company. I'll bet you'll beg on your knees to not let me resign?" You shrug, waiting for his rebut.

He chuckles incredulously, tucking his hands in his pockets. And then he nods, taking your statement seriously.

"I'll be waiting for that day,"

And it wasn't even half the meeting for the first client to see how skillful you were. The way you communicated, the way how you had managed to study all about his company through the files he had provided, and how easily you gave your beautiful smile.

Oh that beautiful smile is what scammed him in this deal in the first place. Although he knew it was sarcastic and far from the real one, he liked it. How you showed confidence, how you were ambitious, how honest you were, how you showed no fear of the high figure in front of you.

It was fresh to see in the industry.

Before he even shoots back to reality, you were done with your first client in thirty minutes. Hopping back to the seat two tables away to observe you after the client has gone, Seonghwa swiftly turns his gaze toward you.

"How was it? Did you fail already?" Seonghwa blinks, but you just open the file folder to present to him, falling flat at the table, signed.

"Promptly, the successful second client meeting will be in another ten minutes, at the hotel next door. Let's get moving, my dear CEO." You smiled, closing the folder and waving it at him.

It wasn't even long before you had finished eight more clients. Seonghwa had stayed silent, only tailing on you and continuously giving you additional information you asked for.

While talking with your last client, your eyes moved to him as he rest his elbow on the armrest of the couch he was sitting on. His eyelids were falling with his chin in his palm, legs crossed. It looked very uncomfortable, making you quicken the pace of the last meeting.

"Thank you very much. We'll contact you once again for future meetings and appointments. I appreciate you coming in person." You bid your farewell, watching him thank and smile at you, shaking hands before going his own way.

When he's out of sight, you made your way quietly two tables away where Seonghwa sat solemnly, sitting in front of him. When he feels it was too... quiet, his eyes finally open to see you sitting in front of him, reading more files he had handed out.

"Ten over ten clients signed. What do you think about that?" You arrogantly shook non-existent dust on your shoulders, leaning back on the chair.

Seonghwa chuckles, scooting to a more proper posture. "You're hired from the first client itself. Saw how you do, saw your potential. Nine more clients were a bonus. Quite impressive, I have to give you that."

"You're beautiful when you smile. Why don't you do it more often?" You scoff, making him squint his eyes at you. "Thank you, sir." You smile, that always default smile. Seonghwa still likes it, though. "I'll treat dinner, follow me. You must be tired." You offer to your huge CEO, gaining ego and confidence now.

"Follow where? We're already at a hotel, we can just eat here." Seonghwa looks around, confused. "And I think you've come to grow a little comfortable with me too much, secretary."

"One, you think my wallet can handle a five-star hotel restaurant?"

"Then you can let me pay for dinner." You shush him sharply, glaring.

"Two, its beyond working hours. You wanted to go with me so I'm giving you the chance of being treated by a broke person. You wanted to go with me so it is not my fault that I can't keep being polite and straight up sucking up all day with you." You ramble, reasoning your hunger for it. When he raises his brow, you press your lips to a thin line. "...Sir."

He scoffs, until he lets you lead the way on where to eat. You lead him to a small grilling house near your neighborhood, coming in like it's already your home.

"Oh, you're with someone new today? Where's Wooyoung?" The owner welcomed you, leading you to a free table.

"Please don't tell him I dined here tonight," You scrunch your nose, patting Seonghwa to let him sit. "We'll take Set B, with a plus of two beers," You smile, and watch the owner hop away after winking at you.

He hesitates, seeing how molds were forming at the corner of the walls.

"Humble setting." Seonghwa mumbles, still looking around in awe. His face scrunches when he sees cobwebs in his side of wall, flinching.

"What, you want to switch?" You chuckle, looking at him in disbelief.

"Yes, please." Seonghwa immediately stands up and almost pushes you out of your seat, making you scoff in disbelief.

"This is the best grilling house in town. Haven't you at least heard of it? This ambience makes the food even better and here you are scrunching your beautiful face."

"I've never been to such... humble place," Seonghwa doesn't even look at you. He keeps looking around, as if he was there to scan the place for more cobwebs or worse. "Can't we eat at a more proper place?"

Just at the right timing, the tray was set rather angrily in the table, which made the both of you two jump. The owner scowls at Seonghwa, taking what he said as an insult.

"I think i might just prefer the loud one than a classy one," The owner rolls her eyes before leaving, eyes still glaring at Seonghwa as she does.

You chuckle as you notice Seonghwa stunned in his seat, looking like a kid who just got scolded.

"I'm betting my everything you'll love the food here." You ready your chopsticks, and with your other hand, start grilling the pork and beef. You expertly moved both hands simultaneously, the other mixing the sizzling stir-fried squid while Seonghwa watched you in awe, for the nth time today.

He just finds you interesting.

When finished, you put a mouthful on top of his rice and urged him to take a bite, giddy on your toes to see how he would react.

"Go ahead," You nod, waiting for him. He looks at you and the food suspiciously, and then around. God just please let it be edible. Seonghwa thinks, before finally picking up his spoon and letting the weird thing in his mouth.

You watch him as his suspicious eyes turned into wide ones, urgently taking another sweep of food. You chuckle, smiling proudly and taking your own portion. You began to eat quietly, only observing how the both of you finished in thirty minutes when you and Wooyoung usually finish the set in an hour and a half.

"Looks like you were hungry." You smile, looking at him finish his last bite.

"I mean, wow," He wipes his mouth elegantly with the tissue, tapping his tummy. "That was the most I've eaten for months," He was unlike the CEO who has been uptight and poised the whole time, but rather a kid who had just discovered his now new favorite food and restaurant.

He looks around and finds the owner still glaring at him but did he care? No. He raises two thumbs up and mouths a wow, pointing at a squeaky clean tray and grill. The owner only lets out a scoff, shaking her head.

"It looks like it's your first time eating like this, what life were you living?" You embarrassingly whisper, pushing his hands down.

"It is." Seonghwa mumbles, gulping down the glass of beer. "You see, I've always gone to fine hotels and restaurants and I didn't have the leisure to go around small towns so,"

You coo in disappointment, "You're just in the tip of the iceberg, then," You chuckle. "Let me pour you a glass. To thank you for employing me," You offer the can of beer, waiting for him to offer his own glass. When he does, he gets the can and waits for you to offer yours.

"To my new secretary," He raises his glass, and you smile.

"To my new CEO,"

"God..." You mumble, getting the hair out of your face as sunlight hits you. "My head fucking hurts..."

You grumble, throwing the comfortable sheets over your head and cuddling the warm pillow beside you.

Wait, sunlight?

And a warm pillow beside you? For all you know, your bed in Wooyoung's house only fitted your own body. And there was only a little window that sunlight doesn't even touch your bed.

This wasn't Wooyoung's house. You open one eye to inspect, your eyebrows meeting the first thing in the morning.

"Oh my god." You whisper, hand flying to your mouth to shut the fuck up.

It wasn't a warm pillow. It was a body.

Scratch that, your new boss' body.

You did not just sleep in one bed with your boss. You were still in denial when you slowly took the sheets off of you, sneaking out of bed.

You take a glance to make make sure if it was indeed your boss, taking the sheets that covered his face too.

You gasp, confirming it when his face becomes clear, sleeping sweetly and tightly. You mock cry, hitting your head as you get your purse and your shoes, tippy toeing out of the pension he owned. At least you were both still fully clothed.

You just pray to the gods no one saw you.

You remember getting hellbent drunk with beers last night, calling a designated driver to drive the both of you home with Seonghwa's car. Apparently, you had asked the driver to wait for you while you walked an almost sleepwalking, drunk Seonghwa to his flat and to his room, but he only had a waiting time of thirty minutes so when you didn't show up, he parked the car and left.

When you got to his flat, you threw him to his bed as he cradled his own blanket. His bed looked so comfortable and you swore that you were just going to try lying on it for five minutes.

That five minutes turned into the whole night.

"Where the hell did you stay?!" Wooyoung welcomes you, hitting your shoulder. "What happened? Did you get the job? Why do you have a bedhair? Where did you sleep?"

"I got the job! I have ten minutes to get ready so I'll answer all your questions later. Wait for me!"

It was one whole hell of a story to tell when Wooyoung's the recipient. He keeps on talking backin the middle, talk shit about his boss and how proud he is of you for finally landing a job- the direct secretary of the CEO at that.

"Good morning, sir." You shamelessly greet, handing him a cup of coffee while you tailed him to his huge office.

"Well aren't you very polite now," Seonghwa takes a seat in his office chair, leaning his head back and eyebrows met in between due to the aching head he had after waking up with an alarm.

"I have to keep my job now, don't I?" You smile, the default one you always held. "Would you prefer a hot coffee? I can make you one right now," You offer, heading to the side of the coffee maker in his office to make one for him.

"I drank too much last night I don't remember a thing. Did you get home safe?" Seonghwa's voice was laced with worry, watching your back.

You chuckle nervously, slightly trembling as you make your way to him with his cup of coffee. Careful not to spill it, you put it on his desk.

"Of course I did! Haha!" You reply, clapping even. "I had so much fun, I didn't even get drunk so I was able to go home," When you see Seonghwa nod, you internally sigh in relief. Clasping your hands, you smile again. "Please give me something to do now, dear CEO. This is the day I've been waiting for,"

"Oh yeah?" Seonghwa held a devious smile, standing up from his seat and walking up to a tall shelf of files and files and files. He picks, one, two, three, four, five thick documents and hands them to you all at once, making you stumble on your feet. "I need reports of these documents by tonight. And if ever I need you, I'm ringing this bell. Have you introduced yourself to everybody? Make sure you're getting along with everyone. With your attitude, I think you're going to need it." Seonghwa taps the top document in your hands, making his way to his seat back again.

He feigns ignorance by raising his brows, as if asking you what had you stunned on your place.

"I think I'll do just fine, Mr. Park. Shouldn't take advice from yours truly now, should I?" You smile, difficulty making your way out of his office.

After settling on your large table, you sat comfortably on your seat.

"Wow. Okay, this is really happening." You whisper, in awe of your own table, own nameplate, and the pile of work you're about to do. "I'm doing it. I'm working," You whisper in disbelief, internally screaming and punching the air continuously for about a minute before slapping yourself back to reality, starting your work.

In the other side of the window, Seonghwa watched you in amazement, chuckling. Such a peculiar attitude you had, it kept him in his toes.

"Done!" Not even three hours in, you had barged in his office, putting his files back to his table.

"That's a day's worth of work of a secretary. What do you mean you're done?" Seonghwa had his CEO mode on, making you politely smile. He began to run through the files, analyzing your work.

Peculiar, and good at work.

"That's a day's worth? What secretaries have you been having?" You furrow your brows, skeptic. "I'm just naturally good at work. I told you, you won't regret hiring me. Is there something more I should do?" You smile, waiting for him to finish scanning your work.

"Incredible. You may now go home," Seonghwa nods in acknowledgement, and you crane your neck. "What?"

"...That's it?"

"Well, I don't have any more meetings schedules today, don't I?" Seonghwa confirms, setting the files in the side with a sigh. When you nod, he nods as well. "There's your answer. You can now go home."

"It's not even twelve noon, though?" You question, taking a double look at your watch. "Give me work worth of my pay, I'll feel guilty if you let me do that alone," You demand, even offered your hand to him.

He chuckles, "That's what good workers get. Early leaves." Seonghwa just looks at you with a smile, but you only pout, looking at your offered hands. You still wait for him, and he finally looks around. "I really don't have anything else for you to do though..."

"Then we can't do anything about that," You disappointingly lower your hands, finally bidding goodbye and thanking him for today. "You can call my phone number if you need anything. Please make sure I have a lot to do tomorrow," You chuckle, heading to the door. You hear him chuckle before you closed the doors behind you, heading to the marketing department. "Woo!"

"Oh, you're here," Wooyoung exclaims, side-hugging you and leading you to his table. He was about to leave for lunch break. "What do you mean you're done?"

"He said he gave me a day's worth of work. And he really didn't ring the bell so no one disturbed me so," You explained, bored. "I really don't have anything to do now."

"You can help me with mine," Wooyoung slyly offers, making you squint your eyes.

"No thanks. This is a blessing, I guess," You take a bite of your lunch, while Wooyoung delves into his. He looked more in a rush than you, since he still had work to do. "Can I ask you something?"

"Aren't you already asking?" Wooyoung's childish remark makes you roll your eyes.

"What time does Seonghwa usually leave work?"

"For what, you're going to tail him?"

"Wooyoung," You grunt, slapping his arm.

"I don't know. You should ask the security. We all leave before him. I've never seen him leave work before us unless he's been out since noon for meetings and events and such,"

You nod, finally letting Wooyoung eat in peace. After you're both done, you let Wooyoung get back by himself to his department as you head to the entrance security, asking around. Only to find out that he usually leaves late at night, from nine to even midnight.

You pout, checking your phone. He hasn't really texted you anything he needed or called you for something, and it's just two in the afternoon.

"Maybe he's just cutting me some slack since it's my first day. I should just take it," You breathe out, heading out of the office with your things.

You were wrong. It's been two whole weeks and you've constantly been getting early leaves because you finish early. And Seonghwa has not been giving you more work unless needed- but still, you were able to complete and finish it earlier than expected.

"I can't keep doing this," You pout. "Another early leave? Aren't there more works to do? Reports? Client appointments to make? You're just going to make me leave again? Can't you just make me clean your whole office? Make you coffee? Anything?" You ramble, feeling guilty.

"That's not a secretary's work," He snorts, standing up. He stretches his upper body and you can't seem to tear your eyes off of him while he does so, reminiscing how warm he felt that one morning. You shake your head to reality when you realize he's working towards you, holding your shoulders.

"Come on, I have four more hours before my shift ends!" You protest, but he only twists your body to face the door, and leave you out of it.

"Your work's done, y/n. Thank you for today, I'll see you tomorrow." He softly smiles, and you're out of the door. You face him, almost pleading. He softly shoos you away, and the door is closed.

You throw a simple tantrum outside his door, feeling bored two minutes after your work was done. And just like clockwork, whenever you're done for work, you come to the marketing department to cause chaos in Wooyoung's table while he worked.

You even fell asleep beside him.

Meanwhile Seonghwa, an hour after shooing you, peeked outside to see if you've gone home, and seeing you gone, he chuckles to himself. If you were going to go home anyway, why were you even giving him an earful?

"God, you're so adaptive. You sleep anywhere," Wooyoung shakes you awake, and he's standing up with his things. "Should we go home? It's nearing dinner,"

"Oh..." You stretch, checking your watch. "You go ahead, I'll check on my boss first and see if he needs anything," You pat his arms, "I'll text you," When Wooyoung nods, you give yourself another stretch before heading to the elevators, bumping into hundreds of workers about to go home. At the highest level, there were three or four workers left that were already fixing their things.

"Excuse me, hi." You stop one of them, "Has Mr. Park eaten?"

"I don't think he has," They ponder, "I don't think I saw him gone out of his office after the last meeting before you left. That's it."

After thanking them and letting them go their way, you peek at the big windows to see Seonghwa still working, the brightness of the computer screen blaring at his face.

"He's so handsome," You admire for a minute, before going your way.

Seonghwa scratches his eyes as he heaves a deep breath, standing up from his seat after a while. He walks around, stretching here and there, and then standing up before the glass windows to see the view outside. The city was now in its rush hour, lights living up. Seonghwa almost jumps when he hears a knock, head whipping towards the door.

"y/n?" He squints, confirms it was you when you smile and make your way in. "What are you still doing here? I thought you left?"

"I didn't. I was too guilty to do so," You chuckle, getting the rolling tray table to the side. "I was waiting for you to call or text but I get nothing. What a work," You shake your head, and you reveal a plastic of lunchbox. "I was told you never left your office. So I'm guessing breakfast was what you last ate. Apart from that, hundreds of coffee and your unbelievably expensive chocolate candies you have in your refrigerator,"

Seonghwa almost hops at the sight of food, getting his chair and ready to dig in. It was a scrumptious meal, making Seonghwa exclaim in happiness.

"This is from that restaurant, isn't it?" Seonghwa says in between bites, gulping down the food. You chuckle, nodding. "I missed it. Thank you for bringing it for me," Seeing Seonghwa eat so deliciously makes you smile, admiring him once more. "How about you, have you eaten?"

"I did, before getting here. With Wooyoung," You reply, roaming around his table. You see countless of drawings of clothing styles paired together, one catching your eye. You crane your neck, thinking about something about the clothes. "I think it would be better with nets topped with it..." You whisper, and Seonghwa whips his head to you.

"What was that?" Seonghwa asks, and only did you realize what you were doing.

"Nothing." You smile, showing him the papers. "Beautiful, Seonghwa. I think you're doing great," You place the papers down neatly, careful not to ruin it in any way.

Seonghwa takes your compliment to heart, making him stop munching. He smiles, genuinely. To hear a compliment when he's struggling the most and is not very confident in his own work makes him choke up, but he endures it.

He doesn't know whether it felt more genuine because you were more genuine than you sounded before, always sarcastic and work-driven. Or if it was how you used his name so freely and comfortably that it seemed more genuine to him.

Nevertheless, he liked it.

"You're done? You must've been very hungry," You question, peeking at the almost clean lunchbox. "Stop overworking and digesting too much coffee. Neither is good for your body," You help Seonghwa clean the table up, earning silence.

"Wait for me, I'll drive you home." Seonghwa quickly picks his things up, shutting the computer down.

"What? Your driver?"

"It's beyond working hours," He chuckles, "And I always go home late. I can drive myself home,"

"So the rumors were true," You gasp, feeling a bit sad about his situation. "But don't worry taking me home, it's just one bus away,"

"No, let me. You've been waiting for me and even brought me dinner, I owe you." He insists, taking his bag. "Let's go"

You quietly follow him to the parking, thinking about how hardworking this man was already. He deserved his spot, he deserved everything with all the work he's been doing. What he doesn't deserve was this inevitable situation, wherein all creatives were in a slump.

"Please," You realize Seonghwa had been holding the passenger's seat for you, and you look at him in question. "What, you're planning to sit at the back? Make me your driver? Your boss?"

"No- I mean, I can just-"

"Just sit," Seonghwa urges, pulling you closer and pushing you inside. You grow uncomfortable at the situation, uneasy at your seat. "Want me to buckle your seatbelt as well?"

"No, I can do it myself," You quickly buckle your own seatbelt, watching Seonghwa close your door and jog to his seat. "You know, I can drive you rather,"

"You can?"

"...If I had a driver's license, that is." You shyly giggle, looking outside.

Seonghwa almost pulls you in to pinch your cheeks, but he stops himself. He finds you so cute when you giggled, finding it hard to hold himself. He busies himself with the GPS, getting your attention.

"Input your address now, it's getting late,"

"Ah, right," You scoot closer to the GPS, putting in Wooyoung's address and smiling. "Thank you," You say, before he starts the car and whispers a shy 'weicome.'

You quickly send Wooyoung a short message informing him of your whereabouts.

"You live close by," Seonghwa starts a small talk. "I live just down the street,"

You look at Seonghwa to react, but god the way his sleeves are pulled up and how his vest hugged his figure so perfectly made him look so ethereal.

"...here," You hear Seonghwa's voice zoom back in to reality, making you jump in your seat. "We're here."

"Sorry, I was zoning out," You apologize, looking around and indeed was outside Wooyoung's house.

"I figured," Seonghwa laughs, "I was just babbling around," He looks around as well, seeing how all the lights inside are blaring. "You must be living with someone? Or you just really leave all lights on?"

"Ah. Yes, I live with Wooyoung," Seonghwa's eyebrows furrow, looking at you rummaging your phone to send a text. "Thank you very much for driving me home, please do go home safely. I can't ask you to send me a text when you're home, that'll be too... much for a secretary, wouldn't it?" You chuckle, hopping out of the car.

After thanking him again, Seonghwa urges you to go inside before he speeds off, watching you go inside safely. He peeks inside, using his height as a plus to see up the gates. Wooyoung welcomes you outside and you jump right in his arms, and he sighs.

Right. Living together in one roof, dinners and breaks together. he might have just gotten his heart broken a bit with the information.

Seonghwa gets home safely and loosens his tie, plopping on his couch with a thud.

He looks at his high ceiling, stares. It still brings him to a smile thinking about your effort a while ago, stretching his arms and resting it in his forehead.

He likes you. Of course, as a secretary. Nothing more. Should be nothing more.

But when he sleeps tightly while thinking of you, the sleep he's been wanting for a few years now, so peaceful and deep, he rethinks again. Maybe, just maybe, a little more than just a secretary.

"Good morning!" You welcome, handing him his usual morning coffee. "You slept in today? That's a first," You chuckle, tailing him to head to his office.

"That's a first for me too," He mumbles, steps quick as he's late for about an hour already.

"Why are you in such a rush? You're the president here, no one's going to scold you," You try to keep up, almost tripping on your own feet. He doesn't even give you a glance since he step foot inside, making you pout.

"I've got tons of work to do, you're my secretary. I think you should know that," He sighs defeatedly, which makes you shut your mouth. He makes his way elegantly through his office, immediately opening his computer and getting to work.

After seeing him in his office, you quietly do your own work in your table, stealing glances only here and there inside the office. When you hear a beep from your machine, you jolt up and run to his office.

"Hi, sorry. I need you to do more reports, here are the files." He stretches out more documents, and you quickly hug it to your chest. You wait for a minute or two for him to even glance at you, but to no avail. You awkwardly make your way out of the office, getting to work.

When it's lunch time, you finally stand up to stretch your body and leave for lunch, intentionally dragging work to be able to stay longer. You peek inside to see Seonghwa still in his place, drawing different designs and looking at his computer.

"Woo," You say, taking a bite of your food, "Your boss is so complicated, do you know that?"

"Why? Did something happen?"

"One day he acts close, the second day he's so distant. Or is it just because he's late today? Catching up with lots of work?" You crane your neck, clicking your tongue.

He scoffs, putting his spoon down.

"Hey, y/n. Did you know that you've been spending more time with him than me these past weeks?" He puts on a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey! That's because it's literally my work?" You protest, taking the last bite. "Also, all this time I've been getting off work early, I go home and rest!"

"That doesn't count, I'm not home." Wooyoung shakes his head. "If you weren't home though, you're waiting for him to finish work. You don't think I know that? You sneak out after having dinner with me, saying you need some air and then come back almost midnight,"

"That's... because!"

"Don't try explaining, I understand. Our president's very likeable. Handsome and successful. He just has his bad days," Wooyoung states as a matter-of-fact, nodding.

"What, like being late in his own company?" You roll your eyes, pushing your tray.

"He's never late. Maybe that's why,"

"What's wrong with being late? There was a time I was never late too!"

"Why are you getting mad at me, I'm literally just stating facts here and trying to console you!" Wooyoung and you have been unconsciously raising your voices, making you apologize around immediately.

You meet Seonghwa's eyes in the entrance, making you jump as if a deer caught in headlights. You don't even know but you feel guilty, looking right at him with apologetic eyes.

He just ignores and turns his back on you, going his own way. You quickly grab your things and drink Wooyoung's water, glaring at him as you try and catch up with Seonghwa.

"Weren't you going to go grab lunch?" You ask, feet busy.

"I was. I didn't like the menu," Seonghwa replies, rushing back to his office.

"Should I get you lunch outside?"

"There's no need."

"I insist. I still have ten minutes for my break. I can get you something you want. There's a lot of restaurant near anyway,"

"y/n, there's no need. I'll just continue my work,"

"Still, you should eat."

"I said there's no need, y/n." His voice wasn't loud, but stern and strong. Just like you viewed him before you worked for him. His look was cold, as if you had just touched a sensitive button for him.

You felt small at that moment, shuffling your hands in awkwardness and shame. You may have felt too comfortable with your boss in such a little time.

"Alright, sorry." You mumble, eyes falling down in an instant and politely apologizing. You step back to reach for the door handle and invite yourself out.

Seonghwa beats himself up right when the door closes but wakes himself up immediately. He's got no time for anything else but his work. He has to work.

So when he glances outside the windows to look at you, he brainwashes himself that he did nothing to be apologetic to you and proceeds to work.

"Here are the last reports, is there anything more I can do?" You confirm, and only with a shake of a head he shoos you off. You politely, once again, bid your farewell and immediately take your leave, heading straight to Wooyoung.

It was the first time you had finished work right before designated off work time, Wooyoung already preparing to go home.

"Why do you look so down?"

"Nothing," You smile, tailing him home. Wooyoung doesn't press on it, changing to a different topic. You stop when you realize you're in front of the restaurant you always eaten dinner.

"I think I'm gonna pass, Woo. I can accompany you eat though,"

Wooyoung ended up only ordering a take out, feeling sorry with the thought of eating alone in front of you if you weren't going to eat. He doesn't ask any more, you were probably going to tell him if you can't handle it yourself.

"I'll take a walk around first, Woo. Clear my head," Your feet ends up in front of your company, hand holding a plastic of food. "What the hell am I even doing here,"

You sigh, heading inside and to his office sneakily. You hesitate whether to bother him again and make him eat dinner, because he may skip both lunch and dinner at this point.

When you peek inside the windows, he was focused on his work, holding a paper up to see if any new ideas will pop up if he stretched it out through the light. Again, you sigh, leaving the company all at once when you realize that you might step beyond the boundary once again.

Seonghwa groans in frustration as he sets the paper down, no new ideas popping up. He decides to call it a night and starts packing up, turning the computer off.

When he turns the knob and felt it heavy, he turns to look at the plastic left hanging on it.

You skipped lunch so please eat dinner. I'm saying this with the sense of responsibility as your secretary. Don't overwork and sleep tight. y/n.

He read the note and left him with a smile, taking the plastic with him as he goes home and eats it deliciously. To be honest, he was quite expecting you to be waiting for him once again like how you did last night. But after his burst out, he realizes that maybe it was too much that he was even expecting that from you.

The food was great, it would've been better if you were there, though.

This continues on for the rest of the week. Leaving food in his door, Seonghwa expecting to see food once he leaves work, Seonghwa and you only talking when you need it for work. That's it.

You don't cross the boundary once more, doing your best with your work until your first paycheck.

"A million?!" You blink rapidly to see if you were only dreaming, looking at your bank account with previously only a dollar and sixty-seven centavos.

"A million?!" Wooyoung exclaims when he hears you, rushing to your phone. "What the fuck?! You're a millionaire within a month?!"

"What the fuck! Must've been an honest mistake, I got to text Seonghwa,"

"Keep it! God-given blessing, duh!" You roll your eyes at Wooyoung, immediately asking Seonghwa to call you once his schedule is free. "You and your reasons, you just want to talk to him!"

"Well, who doesn't?!" Clearly, yes, you're only making up reasons to gain just a minute of extra attention from Seonghwa, and you don't put effort into denying that. "Shush!" You shut Wooyoung off when you read Seonghwa's message that he's free now, immediately dialing his number.

"Hi. You know what, could you please go to the office now? I'll be waiting. Sorry if this is sudden," Seonghwa initiates, and you hear a sigh. "I just have one more document to do and then I'm free,"

"If you have something to do, it's fine. I'll be there tomorrow anyway. It's nothing to rush."

"It's okay, I have something to confirm too and I need it tonight. Only if it's not a hassle though,"

"I'll be there in twenty."

You know softly and peek inside, seeing Seonghwa solemnly napping in his desk, head over arms. Papers were scattered around his table, two empty cups of coffee at the side, monitor still blaring. You walk quietly, making your way to admire his face a little longer.

You smile, wanting to trace his sharp features, craning your neck to get a better view. Your eyes follow his eyes, nose, lips, and then the table.

What the fuck.

Your eyes widen at the realization, stunned in place. At the same time, your nervous, heavy breathing wakes Seonghwa up, opening his eyes and blushing when he realizes how close you were.

"Why are these here?!" You exclaim, snatching three, four, five papers from the table. Seonghwa sighs when you finally got space between the both of you, taking a minute or two to calm himself down before he answered you.

"I was finding the invitation for tomorrow night's event, saw those on your drawer." Seonghwa explains, while you gawk at your drawings. When you were bored, you tried mix and matching different styles of clothes, designing them, and drawing them to life. "Did you make these?" He leans back in his chair, swiveling to your side.

"Ye- No? I don't know? I mean," You ramble, shaking your head. You take a deep breath, thinking how to excuse yourself out of the situation.

There was no way out.

"Look, I just made those when I was bored. It's shit." You wave your hand off, hiding the papers behind your back. "Let me go get the invitation and I'll be off," Before you take a step away, Seonghwa stands up in his place and walks toward you.

When he's a step away in front of you, he stops, tucking his hands in his pockets and stares down at you.

"Were you initially planning on applying for designs?"

"No." Your quick reply makes him squint his eyes, waiting for you to continue. "Where would I get the confidence for that?" You scoff, "I told you, I needed money to continue my masters, I have a degree in business marketing. Why would I apply for something not in my field?"

"Because you don't need a degree for that. All I need is creativity and originality."

"Just let me off, sir. I told you, these were made during breaks, you don't need to put much thought on it,"

"Now I'm a sir?" Seonghwa scoffs, taking a step closer and leaning to meet you eye level. "If those were made during breaks, what more could you do if you're paid to do it? Something you really love doing, getting paid, seeing your works being brought to life, and getting credited for it,"

You gulp, realizing that Ha, Seonghwa isn't dumb to connect the dots. With the way you denied your works, bragged your unrelated degree and how you avoided the topic, for sure it was something you'd keep in the dungeon because you didn't realize you'd be much closer step to one of your unrealistic dreams.

You were just a broke college student taking a LOA because of a crisis in financial status two months ago, who knew you'd be working in one of the biggest fashion brands in the world? When you thought you've had let go of your useless talent and dream long ago already?

"I'll get these," Seonghwa reaches for the papers you hid behind your back with a smirk while you had your guard down, showing it to you. "Let's get you home."

You stayed quiet the whole ride, thinking of what Seonghwa had said. Were your works really just acknowledged by the one and only? Works that, for you, even made half-heartedly? Should you have applied for creatives than marketing? Should you have never even hidden your talent and skills?

If you hadn't, then where would you be now? What would you be now?

"We're here." Seonghwa turns on the hazard, removing his seatbelt to take a good look at you.

"Ah," You mumble, removing your own. "Thank you." You were about to open the door when he stops you, tugging your sleeve.

"I mean what I said with your works." He starts, "I have a spot open in the creatives in case you want to, but no pressure." You nod quietly, mumbling another thank you. You open the door and leave, standing safely beside and waiting for him to drive off.

Before he does, he rolls the windows down and smiles at you softly.

"Meet me tomorrow at the entrance of Lotte Mall at eight in the morning if you have the slightest interest in it," You nod once again, pushing through a smile before he asks you to leave first.

You open the gates to the house, seeing the lights still on, Wooyoung must still be waiting for you.

"Hey," You call softly, landing in the couch. Wooyoung was preparing hot tea for you, asking you to wait for a second. When he skedaddles to the living room with the tea, he immediately notices your expression.

"How did the salary talk go?"

"Oh, went south," You chuckle, taking a sip of the tea that warmed your insides. "I didn't even get to bring it up,"

"What happened?! Are you fired?!" He exaggerates, slamming the table. You chuckle, calming him down.

"No, but he found my drawings I did during break and long story short, said he has a spot open in the creatives." Wooyoung's shoulders drop when he realizes that you, Seonghwa, and him had messed with a sensitive spot of yours, making you think of countless possibilities.

But at the end of the rainbow, he thinks that this might be a good shot at rekindling your dreams.

"y/n... Don't you think it's worth the try?" He takes your hand and caresses it, "Park Enchante is literally offering you a spot because the president liked your work! It's a great steppingstone, a large one at that!" Wooyoung tries to be optimistic, at the same time realistic. "You've always been the talented one, y/n. Don't you think you didn't have to dig up that dream you once buried because Seonghwa already did it for you?"

You stayed quiet all this time, but tears were already forming in your eyes and in no time, flowing.

Seonghwa dug up your dream for you, Wooyoung rekindled it, and it was now up to you to keep the dream going.

"Are we waiting for someone, sir? The tailor for your suit should be inside," His driver holds the umbrella up for him, already been standing outside the entrance of the mall for a good five minutes or so.

"Just one more minute," He looks at his watch, which read 8:13, and around. You hadn't given him any text, but he waits in case. He sighs when the clock ticks another minute, ready to go in when he hears quick heavy steps, revealing a fresh-from-a-run you.

"I'm here! I'm here..." You catch your breath, holding your arm up high while your other assisted your body to your knees.

Seonghwa's smile grows big, and his driver takes a double look because he hadn't seen his boss smile like that the past 5 years he's been working under him.

"You can leave now, y/n will stay with me," He smiles brightly at the driver, patting his shoulder as he walks closer to you.

"Lotte mall is such a long ride from home, why would you pick this one amongst all the other?!" You're still catching your breath, holding yourself from hitting him.

"Let's head inside, it's much warmer there and we could get you a drink." Seonghwa lends you a helping hand, stretching his arm out for you to hold on to. "My favorite tailor is here, that's why I picked this one," He leads you to a shop after resting for a while, proudly pointing at it.

As you head inside, you see various of designs of suits and blouses and shirts and different kinds of clothing for men that god, you just want to try and match different things and style it your own way and everything.

He watches you be in awe as your eyes roam around, seeing your eyes sparkle just like how his did when he first step foot in this shop.

"Your suit's ready sir, this way please."

"Wait for me here, I'll get out once I'm done," You only nod at him and roam around the shop while waiting for him, styles catching your eye.

"Seonghwa definitely fits this shop," You mumble, a smile on your lips.

"I'm ready," You hear Seonghwa from behind, and you turn to look at him.

God. He's so beautiful.

He presented with a simple suit, but with a turtleneck inside, necktie loosely worn, vest tightly hugging his figure and coat only hanging on his broad shoulders. He had loose, leather trousers that fit just perfectly the style of the top, making you gawk. (for reference: that one golden hour concept photo outfit)

It was such a simple outfit for someone like him, but Seonghwa radiated so much charisma, elegance and of course, superiority.

When you realize you were staring too much, which made Seonghwa almost twirl in his place in shyness, you smile smugly.

"Nice. Screams so much like you," You bluntly compliment, but Seonghwa knew better that you meant so much more. He knows that eyes will never lie, speaking as someone who speaks with various fashionistas every single chance he gets.

"Thank you," He mumbles, fighting his own demons to smile so wide. "Now, it's your turn."

"My turn? My turn for what?" You question, but he only pushes you out of the shop after loudly thanking the tailors once again. "For what, pres?"

"Your outfit." You both stand outside a humungous branch of Park Enchante, lights shining brightly to welcome you.

"For what?! Look, my bank account can't handle a single thread in your store, what the hell am I even here for? I know you just paid me a million, which I have a question for another time, but here?! And for what?!"

"Don't worry about that," Seonghwa shakes his hand in front of you, urging you to come in with him. You had no choice but to tail him, a habit you built for the past two months.

"This, this this..." Seonghwa was literally picking everything his eyes land on, making you try this and that and playing dress up with you. "No, no, no. Skip that," And of course, a lot getting rejected.

"Seonghwa, may this be the last one or I swear to the heavens I am passing out inside this fitting room right then and now," When you open the door, it takes Seonghwa a minute or two before he claps slowly, and loudly.

"That!" He points, "That's your outfit," He proudly stands up to walk closer and take a good look at you, swirling you around. He smiles proudly and sighs, pushing your shoulders to a well-lit full body mirror. "You look amazing," He sweetly smiles, making you feel all giddy inside. "I'll be at the counter. You don't need to change back to your clothes," He pats your shoulder and leaves, making you take a good look at yourself.

He was right. You looked amazing. The outfit was literally made for you. You smile as your hands roam around it, admiring it.

"Right." You mumble, patting at yourself. "Amazing."

"Let's go?" Seonghwa asks, carrying the paper bags which consisted of both his and your clothes from a while ago.

"Shouldn't I go change? What's this for anyway?"

"For tonight." He explains, shaking his head when you try to get the paper bags from him.

"And why do I get one as well?"

"Because you're coming with?" He rhetorically answers, as if you should've known.

"For your information, my dear CEO, the event for tonight will be private, consisting of directives of Park Enchante only. No outsiders allowed," You explain, "Now I'm going to change back to my clothes because there is no way I'm getting this just because you're the owner,"

"I'm the owner, I could do what I want." He stretches his arm up high, making it impossible for you to reach the paper bags. "And I'm the CEO. I could invite who I want. Now let's get going because one, I'm hungry, two, we'll be running late for the event if we don't eat now and go for the event."

"Oh my god, what am I even doing here," You quietly stand in one corner, seeing Seonghwa mingle with other directives in the small hall.

The event was meant for a small, formal gathering for a supposedly, announcement that will be made by the CEO himself. But an hour in, Seonghwa still hasn't made any move to pronounce anything.

"Hey," Seonghwa pulls you to a table, handing you a drink. "You look stunned." He chuckles.

"Of course I will be," You say through gritted teeth, smiling sarcastically. "What the hell am I even supposed to do here?"

"You're the star of the event, actually."

"The what?" You dramatically sigh, having enough of his bullshit. Fine he looked gorgeous, with his hair done immaculately and his outfit god made for him, but you were done with his surprises.

He pulls out a paper and a pen, softly smiling at you. You realize that he wasn't joking, making you furrow your brows.

"What's this?" Before you focus on the paper, he takes your shoulder and makes you look at him. He notices a stray hair and tucks it behind your ear, smiling once again.

"There is absolutely no pressure in this, y/n. If you don't agree, this gathering will just be a gathering. We'll act like nothing happened and you'll continue to be my secretary for as long as you want, get paid as much as you want."

You see where this is going, making you sigh.

"But if you agree, I will stand up for you among these people to announce that I have seen one of the best works I have seen my entire life, coming to collaborate with Park Enchante to produce the best works in the industry. How does that sound?"

You stare right at him, as if he just said the most ridiculous ment in the whole of your existence. You had not seen this part coming. You thought it would only be a you and Seonghwa talk, but he had other plans.

At the same time, although you have already decided only this morning, being questioned like this wasn't part of your plan. You still had your doubts, your insecurities, your overthinking to even come up with a final answer.

And as if Seonghwa read your mind, "I'll be here to help you. We can help each other grow, and I can offer you the free of contract. You can stop whenever you like, and I will support whatever decision you make."

You stayed quiet, tears forming once again. Before it even falls, Seonghwa had already wiped them off your eyes, and pulled you in for a hug.

"You can leave if you want. We will forget this ever happened." Seonghwa's words made you shake your head, pulling back to face him. When you smile, the heaviness on your chest leaves.

"Are you sure this is without pressure? You just told me I'm the star of the event," You squint your eyes at him, making him chuckle.

"Okay, maybe with a bit of pressure. With your talent, I don't want it to either go to waste or to be of another brand's hands," The thought made him shiver, as you let out a hearty laugh.

With a breath, you pick the pen up and sign both copies of paper, making Seonghwa exclaim exaggeratedly and punch the air, earning a lot of weird stares.

"Yes! Finally, everyone!" He shouts, holding the paper in his hand and leaving the other copy in the table. He gives you a tight hug before leaving to the stage, tapping the mic to finally announce you as an official creative and still secretary.

While everyone is still in doubt, Seonghwa goes on a rave about how amazing your works he discovered are, emphasizing that you only did it on your breaks.

Embarrassed, you hang your head low and apologized for the commotion he's causing, glaring at him and mouthing for him to come down.

Making his way to you, he was stopped by a few directives for a small talk about the announcement and honestly, you couldn't care less about what others say. Seonghwa believes in you, the Park himself in Park Enchante. What could others hold against you?

You sigh in relief as the other copy of paper you signed caught your attention, scanning through the pages of paper until you're in the last.

This contract is only for the purposes of having an agreement, but the client is of free-employment role.

The client's status will be (1) Direct Secretary of the President of Park Enchante; (2) Creative Fashion Designer and Stylist of Park Enchante.

And optionally, (3) To be Park Enchante's President's personal company for as long as the client wants.

The client's assistance over the last two months has been much appreciated by Park Enchante's president. The president owes the client tremendous gratitude since the president recognized and valued even the modest efforts the client made over the previous two months.

By signing this page additionally, the client grants Park Enchante's president into their personal life in return for their services.

You scoff at the amount of ridicule the 'contract' was oozing of, but at the same time, it made your heart skip a beat.

"Ridiculously childish," You mumble, yet the smile can't be wiped off your face.

"Oh, you read it," Seonghwa's smile falters a bit, seeing how you reacted to it. "You don't have to mind that, you know,"

"Isn't this abuse of power?" You shake your head, waving the paper in front of him.

"Hey, it says there optionally," Seonghwa pouts, "As long as you signed the first page as our creatives, everything's good," Yet he can't help feel his heart break a bit at the thought that slipped his mind- Wooyoung. "It's my company, my contract, I can alter it as much as I want," Seonghwa mumbles like a little kid talking back.

You scoff at his words, "Ah, so you don't want it signed?" You raise your eyebrows, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. "I was more than willing to let you in my personal life though," You shake your head, clicking your tongue. "What do I do with this copy, then? It's already signed,"

You see the process of Seonghwa getting bewildered, to his eyes shining bright as it beamed at you, realizing what you had just said as his smile grows wider than it already was a while ago.

"Really?" Despite the excitement and the shock, his voice was sweet and soft. Delicate, as he steps closer to you and cups your cheeks.

"Really, Seonghwa." You mumble, smiling at him. You stretch your hand out to ask for the other copy, but he only pulls it and engulfs you in a warm, tight hug.

"I've been holding my feelings off for so long," He whispers, breath hitting your neck, "Now we're even bonded through paper,"

"I will stay to company you to my deathbed, Seonghwa." You chuckle, still finding it ridiculous at how you find the contract still ridiculously sweet at the same time. "But please, do not ever do that again. If you're going to ask me out, ask me out like how a normal person will,"

"What's a Seonghwa if it wasn't for my self-made ideas?"

permanent taglist: @sunlightwoo

[appleblueberry-pie]

Yandere Lesbian Nurse Geto x Female Nurse Reader

Geto has been a nurse in the biggest hospital in Tokyo for 5 years. And for all 5 years, I have been working beside her. Taking a ridiculous amount of patients, working my ass off, but ultimately being able to put food on my table. Geto has been a great co-worker and friend to me. She'd start her shift at the same time as mine just so we can have a lunch break together. She sometimes steps off of her main task to help me with my patients if she can and even gives me an extra bag of her homemade lunch if she finds out I don't have any.

She's so sweet and caring to me. But I don't hear the same from everyone else I work with.

They'd say outrageous things about her. To me specifically, as if I could do anything about it. "Because she fucking kisses at your feet." They'd spit. "Maybe if you soften her up, she'll consider my offer when my shift is over," they'd chuckle. It's mostly the male doctors who come up to me with this information. Which makes it hard for me to take them seriously. And I don't believe them. How could such a nice woman be as they describe her? Foxy, arrogant, sly, and greedy. I don't see that in her. Therefore, their words mean nothing. Her dark-lipstick stained lips slightly curl up in amusement as I turn my back to the doctor, walking back over to her.

She loves the way you think. It makes her job way easier. Get closer to you, and she'll get her much deserved prize.

I see Geto leaning against the wall as I approach. "I hope you didn't hear what he said." She shrugs and meets me halfway. "It doesn't matter. Words don't matter like that. You learn that early in this field of work." I nod and smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right. So, what do you have planned for the rest of today?"

This is how my usual work day goes. Unnecessary rumors, casual conversation with Geto and then go home. But I guess something was in the air today. Because when I finished eating my lunch alone(surprisingly), I walked into the staff room and found Geto screaming at one of the doctors. He and her were separated by one wooden circular desk and they were both standing. She was leaning over the table as if she wanted to lunge over it to kill him.

"You fucking asshole. If you just listened to me, I would've given you all of the sex you wanted! But you fucking talked to her. AGAIN. You've been pissing me off too many times." She scoffs and turns away from him, holding her head as if she had a headache. He walks around the table and approaches her, placing his hands on her shoulder. "Suguru, forget about her. Why do you care about her? She's a nobody. You're everything she's not, can't you see? You make way more than her, you're prettier than her, and you work more harder. We're the same."

He smiles as Geto relaxes against him. My eyebrows furrow at their words. What the hell was going on? Were they shit talking me? Why did she make that absurd deal with him? And I've never heard anyone call Geto by her first name. They didn't see me yet, and I stood there silently, waiting to see where this conversation would go.

Geto nodded before looking back up at him, a smile on her face. He smiles back before his eyes trail to her lips. When he inches closer, Geto pulls a full syringe from a hidden strap on her thigh and stabs it into his neck, injecting whatever it was into his blood. The doctor chokes on his words, face turning red as he falls to the ground. Geto doesn't even glance down at him before turning towards the door, only to see me there. "Y/n...." I stare at her in horror. She runs towards me and I flinch out of my frozen position. I am only one step back before she yanks me in, slamming the door shut. I can still hear the doctor gasping for breath and I shove Geto away from me. "I can't trust you...get the fuck away from me." My heels click against the floor as I speak.

She slowly approaches me again. "You don't mean that..." I nod, stressed. "Yes. I do." A weird look of happiness overcomes her face before she pushes me through an open door. I fall on my ass, yelping in pain. She storms into the room as well, shutting the closet door and turning the light on. She towers over me and I look up at her, regret filling my chest. They were right. And I didn't listen to anyone. How come I couldn't ever see it?

"Oh, you fucking liar," I whisper.

My skirt rides up and I can feel my upper thighs brushing against the cool marble floor. I hate this closet for this exact reason. I look up, only to see Geto staring back down at me with a look of adoration on her face. Which makes no sense considering she just illegally penetrated a licensed doctor with a needle filled with drugs to knock him out.

Confusion crumbles and turns into fear, my breaths slowly increasing as she fondly looks down at me as if I was a little useless deer, far, far away from mom. Her red heels clack against the floor as she walks closer. I scoot back, my skirt riding up higher in the process and she coos. I gasp at the feeling of the point on her stiletto suddenly rubbing between my pussy lips through the fabric of my panties. "Ohhh, there we go. See? It feels so good, doesn't it, baby? C'mere.."

She steps over my legs before kneeling, her knees trapping me in place. She takes my face in her hands and immediately places her soft lips onto mine. My eyes widen and I can feel her desperately initiating the control. My eyebrows furrow when a warm muscle slips from between her lips into my mouth and I whimper. She swallows it and kisses me harder. I can feel her resting her weight onto my lap, her panties underneath her uniform brushing my core above my work skirt.

I separate the kiss, gasping for air and turning my head to the side. She presses messy kisses down my jawline and neck. I begin to feel dizzy as her hands travel down my chest, groping it before groping at everything else they can get at. "Geto..." I breathe out her name. She whines and grinds herself against me. I feel a throb between my legs and push her away from me. She looks confused and a little sad at me pushing her away and I shake my head.

"No...no, this isn't right. Y-you just drugged a doctor a-and we can't do thi-"

"I love you!!!"

My world stops as she stares at me, tears filling her eyes. "I fucking love you....i've loved you ever since I began working here. I cook you my food, I take some of your own work, I turn down everyone for you, for you! I do everything for you. I still work here for you, I...I turned down my promotion just to be near you. T-that fucking sleazebag I drugged?? He secretly wanted you. But I want you more..."

Her eyes are gone as she gathers her words. I am frozen. No sound is heard besides our breaths. Her face turns to stone as she looks back up at me. "I want you more. I deserve you. You ungrateful piece of shit."

She grabs me by the hair, fingers digging into my scalp as she stands back up. I yelp and she tells me to shut up. "I'm gonna make you love me back." She sounds like she's trying to convince herself.

"Pull my panties down." I stare up at her, frozen and confused. "Pull my fucking panties down. Now." My hands wander towards her underwear under her uniform and I feel around her warm skin until I find the thin thong bands and i pull them down, trying so hard to ignore the string of slick connected to them. "Good girl....come eat me out." Her voice is softened as she spreads her legs for me. I look back up into her eyes and she smiles softly, a look too put-together in her eyes. She's fucking nuts. Her fingers tighten once more on my scalp and I cringe, pushing her skirt up until I see her pink pussy in the shitty closet lighting. I lean closer to it, staring her in the eye as I lick a stripe of her juices from between her warm and sensitive lips.

Her eyes roll back into her lids and her head tips back, a shameless moan leaving her lips. A part of me enjoys this moment between me and her despite everything leading up to this moment. I'm on autopilot as I grab her legs, spreading them further apart as I force my tongue to continue eating her out, ravaging my first meal of the day despite it being 10:30 at night. "I know you didn't eat lunch today." She slurs out, a small squeal leaving her lips when I suck on her clit. She then giggles. "So, this is your meal. Do you like it? Does it taste good, baby?"

I hum, staring her right in the eyes. My face is deep between her soft and warm thighs. I remain eye contact as my tongue finds her entrance. The cold tip of my nose presses firmly against her wet and erect clit. That's when she pulls my face away from her cunt. The bottom half of my face is soaked in her juices. She takes a deep breath before softly loosening the grip on my hair. My face relaxes as she lets me go. She gets back down onto my lap, straddling me. "Please. No more." I plead, exhausted. She caresses my face before bringing her hands to my uniform shirt. "It's okay. I'm gonna take care of you."

She tears my shirt open, biting her lip at my beautiful choice of bra. She makes me take my shirt and bra off, immediately pawing at the tender breasts when they're freed. "So pretty." I sit back, resting on one arm, spreading my legs out. She doesn't even finish her initial thought before sucking on one of my nipples. I sigh in regrettable pleasure. She gets off of my lap, sitting next to me as one of her unseen hands trail down beneath my skirt, between my legs to touch at my damp underwear. I flinch lightly and she pulls off of the nipple.

"Be a good girl and moan for me, okay?" I didn't know what she was talking about until she swiftly pulls my panties to the side and firmly slides two fingers into my cunt like it was nothing. I gasp and she hums in acknowledgement. I whine lightly as her fingers thrust in and out of me. They feel a little rough as she also kisses around my chest, creating hickeys in-between kisses. She then starts curling her fingers on that spongey spot inside of me and my back arches at the pleasure blooming in my lower stomach. "Like that?" She asks. "L-" As soon as I speak, it's cut off from her fingers rubbing quicker on that one spot, the pleasure increasing twice as much. A pathetic moan escapes my lips instead. "Hm?? Just like that?" She asks again as I throw my head back, almost hovering over my body from where I lay. I nod, my eyes squeezed shut. A satisfied smile spreads across her lips as I suddenly moan loudly, squirt gushing out of my pussy onto her hand. Obscene squelching sounds echo throughout the room as she continues her assault on my hole.

"Fuck, no more! No more, please..." I beg and she immediately listens, pulling her fingers out of me. I relax, my back hitting the ice cold marble floor. I try to catch my breath, rubbing my face as if trying to find the sense I once had. Geto sucks my juices off of her fingers, ecstasy flowing through her veins at the taste. She tastes every last drop on her hand and even considers licking what I left on the ground. But I'm more important. She turns back to me and leans over my naked torso, kissing my forehead. "I love you, y/n."

"..." I look back into her expecting eyes. What happens if I say it back? Will it even matter? At this point, I completely forgotten the things she had done before we ended up in the closet. "I love you, too." Her eyes sparkle and she laughs as if I just proposed to her. Her hands find my cheeks once more, cradling my face as she kisses me. The kiss is soft, warm, and domestic. She pulls away and her heart squeezes. "I have to take care of some business. Can you wait here for me?"

What else can I do? I nod. She stares at me for a little while longer before standing up. She leaves. It's silent. I'm half-naked, my mind is fuzzy, and bodily fluids are spilled on the floor. It's cold. What have I done to meet such a woman? She's probably gonna kill the doctor, and God knows what she'll do once she comes back to get me. But even after everything, I'm the one that has her wrapped around my finger. I just have to find a way to get out of what I put myself into.

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

VII. twenty-one questions.

parts: previously / next plot: everything comes to a head. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, reader's a little stupid, descriptions of surgical stitching, blood, surgical needles, knives, violence, mentions of drugs and underage substance abuse (alcohol), minor character death(s). words: 11.4k.

a/n: it has been yet another hot minute and this chapter has given me a lot of grief in terms of all the ideas I had for it and what it ended up being. as you can tell by the word count, I could Not shut up

Alfred calls you bright and early to watch Bruce spar.

The billionaire had mentioned it before, and while you didn't doubt you would meet an untimely fate were you to challenge Mr. Pennyworth one-on-one, it was a whole other thing seeing them both on the mat.

Alfred is slow but thoughtful; when Bruce attacks, he goes for several hits at once. Alfred anticipates each one. He's more defense than offense, but when he strikes Bruce in the chest even you can feel it.

Bruce is lean, quick. He ducks and rolls and uses every part of his body, not just his fists. He looks a little sloppy when he wraps his legs around Alfred's—out of practice, maybe?—but it doesn't keep him from succeeding. Alfred fights like a soldier. Bruce fights like a martial artist.

Bruce makes a noise when Alfred falls to the mat and you spring up with attention, "Everything okay?"

You hear "his leg" and "I'm fine" overlap one another.

The real reason Alfred had called you was because he wanted you to watch Bruce hurt himself. The vestiges of a sprain, he guessed, that Bruce was too stubborn to rest. When he couldn't convince Bruce to pass on sparring, he resorted to you: "an objective spectator." Alfred had sounded pleased. Bruce had looked about ready to suplex him.

You head over anyway, ignoring the protests of the injured so you could kneel and survey the damage. "Can you walk?"

Bruce doesn't meet your eyes. He forces his body to stand, but you can easily tell he's favoring a side. You reach a hand up and pinch his injured calf, hearing him hiss through his teeth. "Of course it's going to hurt when you do that." He sounds childishly annoyed. Alfred is fighting a smile from his spot next to you.

"I don't understand. You're head of the company, you can afford to take a few days off. Even chair rest is still rest."

"Ah, but there lies the conundrum," Alfred pushes himself up to his feet, "he cannot sit still."

Bruce extends his hand to you, still avoiding eye contact. You hesitate but take it anyway, and the ease with which he hoists you to your feet is a bit disorienting.

Since your agreement with Batman, you were forced to be patient. After all, there were more pressing matters in Gotham besides your own ticking time bomb. He'd promised that he'd get back to you soon about Bruce and, until then, you would have to grin and bear it.

Alfred excuses himself to get busy with lunch the minute Dory enters with the groceries, leaving the two of you alone in the middle of the living room. "As your doctor," you begin, "I can't in good conscience let you keep pushing your body past its limit."

"It barely hurts anymore."

You bend as if you're about to grab at his leg again and he takes a step back, annoyed—if not offended, "You have no record of chronic pain. No record of serious past injuries at all. Yet you strain yourself doing... what, exactly? Sparring all day? You may be young, Bruce, but your body isn't indestructible."

You get the feeling he's heard this before, bristling like a scolded cat as you stare him down, "I'm fine," he brushes past you toward the table he and Alfred moved to the far end of the room, grabbing a sweating glass of water, "Alfred's just being... Alfred. He worries too much."

"I worry," Bruce raises a brow as he takes a swig and you clear your throat, "you said you need to be reminded to care of yourself. Well, that's my job now. Not that the hospital couldn't use more of your money but it's not worth the pain you'll be in." Bruce leans against the table, one leg crossed over the other. You approach, briefly taking note of the water that dribbles down his chin. "I'm starting to think you're just a masochist."

"Yeah? How do you figure?" His lip twitches up into a smile.

You open your mouth but the thought stops you cold. You were going to say, "Because I know someone just like you," but then you're transported back to that fateful morning where you first met. Bruce and all his... familiarity. The wild speculation of your exhausted mind. All of which, at the time, overlapped perfectly. Yet now that you knew them both better, they were worlds apart to you. Except for that one thing.

What was it that set them apart, again?

Your eyes drift up to Bruce's. "I get your type at General sometimes," you divert, "real pains in the ass."

Bruce steps closer to you with his glass abandoned on the table, "And your type can't seem to leave well enough alone."

You prickle. If it weren't for the fact that he was so clearly teasing you, you'd have lingered on the almost double meaning, "The fact you think this," you raise your foot and tap the side of Bruce's injured leg; his eyes narrow, "is well enough further proves my point. You need rest."

Bruce rolls his shoulders back; his compression tee clings to every muscle as he does, drawing your attention for a brief moment. "I'll think about it."

Your jaw drops. Bruce smiles. You feel a white hot flash of irritation that's wiped away when Alfred reenters the room, dishtowel thrown over his shoulder, eyes fixed on you, "Will you be staying for lunch?"

Before you can say no, Bruce interjects for you, "Yes. Thank you, Alfred." Then he turns to you, pats your arm like a friend, and pushes you in the direction of the kitchen, "I'm gonna shower. Make yourself at home."

You stumble over yourself, regaining balance just as Bruce's head disappears over the top floor banister. How quickly he could retreat when leaving you to the lions.

But Alfred is in a good mood today. Better than usual, actually. The hair on your neck stands on end as you follow him to the kitchen, preparing for the good mood to sour now that it wasjust the two of you, but it doesn't come. You watch him hum a little tune as he fixes up some vegetables to sauté.

You even find yourself getting comfortable at the island when he breaks the silence, "I appreciate what you're doing for Bruce... regardless of its efficacy. It's nice to know someone else has common sense in this house." Alfred sets down four empty plates at the breakfast table.

You take note of his tone, an improvement from his barely concealed dislike from weeks before. You take that as a small victory for today, "It's like arguing with a brick wall. How have you managed it all these years?"

"Like a soldier." Without asking, he fills a glass to the brim with water and hands it to you.

"Right. You're a veteran." Your observation gives him pause, the food he tends to at the stove crackling away. "I can tell. I've treated a lot of veterans so I can spot them from a mile away now."

Alfred snorts, straightening his shoulders. "I served as a young lad. Eventually retired and came here, took on the job as the Waynes' butler and bodyguard. I've been with them for quite some time. Since before Bruce was even born."

"You practically raised him."

"Rather... clumsily, might I add," Alfred glances at you and you're surprised to see him bashful, genuinely, "protecting him, I could handle. Raising him... well, that was another matter entirely."

"But you did a pretty good job. I mean, he's accomplished a lot. Especially with the mayor. I imagine that's why he's working so hard: really seems like he's dedicated to restoring his father's legacy."

You can't help the little hook you throw out.

Right before the Mayor was elected, when a bomb shook the penthouse of 1939 Kane St., Edward Nashton had taken to the airwaves to out Thomas Wayne as a cold-blooded killer. Not long after, the man who'd pulled the trigger was shot dead in the street before he could be brought to justice. That would bring anyone out of hiding.

Wayne Enterprises inevitably challenged the claims, Bruce Wayne had taken to his father's defense in an impassioned press conference that even you tuned into, and Gotham General made the decision to keep his father's statue in the courtyard.

It was never ruled out, though. After all, all of the Riddler's other exposés were true. But there was no paper trail. Nothing but he said, he said, and with everyone involved dead, it was Bruce Wayne's word over a zealot who'd flooded the city.

You take a sip from your glass to let Alfred ruminate on his reply. He doesn't raise his eyes to you again, "Precisely."

"I've been keeping a close eye on him in the news. His philanthropy this past year has been really remarkable." That was a bold-faced lie. You'd been keeping an eye on him for the past few weeks. Everything else you knew about Bruce Wayne's newfound appreciation for the poor and needy came from Em. "Some of the people at the party, however..."

"Councilman Roberts, was it? He was awfully spirited from what Master Bruce relayed to me."

The very mention of his name makes your blood pressure spike, "The guest list was very diverse."

Alfred transfers the cutting board to the sink, "Master Bruce has his reasons. He's become rather fixated on the state of political affairs. First behind the scenes, and now..."

"Now center stage." You finish for him, swirling your glass. "Think he'll run for office one day?"

Alfred looks somewhere between amused and horrified.

It would be natural. Thomas Wayne had almost done it. Why not Bruce? It'd be a comeback story for the ages if someone didn't try to kill him again.

"I'd rather he keep out of it. Being in a position like that has never been his true calling."

"Yeah? And what is?"

Alfred doesn't look like he wants to say. He scrubs at the surface of the wooden board, absentmindedly brushing the same spot clean over and over. His eyes catch yours for a split second, just as quick as the smile that he flashes when the answer finally spills out of him, "Altruism."

You and Alfred don't talk much more until Bruce comes down. Dory joins you all at the table soon after and, rather awkwardly, you find yourself having a quiet lunch with the Waynes. Hooks abandoned. Fish not caught.

You wait for what feels like hours, but eventually he arrives.

His car is an absolute monster. It growls as it pulls up beside you in the withering glow of street lights, and if it weren't for said lights, it would blend into the shadows almost completely. The raindrops that dot the hood help catch the light on the deep black paint job.

You look for the door handle but it opens for you. Inside, you see Batman with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift. You swallow. This is new territory.

You throw your bag in first, then climb into the passenger seat, very aware of the pocket knife stuffed in the pocket of your scrubs. You go to close the door and it closes for you all on its own. Behind you is an intimidating engine that vibrates through your every bone and muscle, and when you look to the driver, he is staring straight ahead. A few beats pass as you try to keep your teeth from chattering, "Do the seat belts move on their own, too?"

Batman looks at you from his peripheral. Then—twisting in his seat—he reaches across you to retrieve the seat belt, dragging it across the front of your body until it clicks at your side, "'Fraid not."

Despite all the rumbling of the car engine, it's a smooth ride through the city. Even the littering of pot holes and uneven pavement doesn't ruin it. Still, it does nothing to quell your nerves.

You feel small, sinking into the passenger seat built for people wearing a lot more armor than you. You also note that there's nowhere for your legs to go underneath the seat. You bump the solid obstruction with the backs of your sneakers but can't make out what it is.

There are other weird things you notice when you start looking. Starting where your shoulders rest are six holes going down the seat, three on each side, all a foot apart from the last. You press your finger into one of the holes and feel hard metal on either side of the gap. Upon further inspection, Batman's seat has it too, "What are these for?" You ask.

Batman doesn't need to look at you to know what you're messing with, "Restraints."

You recoil, "I beg your pardon?"

"I could show you."

"I'm- sorry, what..." You bend at the waist to feel the metal plate beneath the seat and recognize that there are holes along the sides there too.

"In case I need to bring someone along who's less than willing. Metal bars are installed in the seats. Only I know how to activate them."

"Why your seat too?"

"In case someone tries to steal the car," he makes a turn into one of the boroughs and you realize you're getting close to your destination, "but I've considered putting a trunk in the back for... passengers."

"And where do you get the money for such... modest mods?"

At that, Batman does not answer you. You figured he wouldn't. There were a hundred answers he could give you that would surely, most definitely give his identity away. It doesn't stop your brain from beginning to wander.

It doesn't get very far before you're pulling up into the alley between two houses, shrouding the car in the shadow of Joey Russo's home.

It's not as nicely kept as the other houses on the street, and its age doesn't do it any favors. A lot of the off-white paint has been chipped off or discolored over the years. There's a piece-of-junk car in the driveway that looks like it works, but just barely. The lawn has outgrown the neighbors', kept at bay by patches of dead grass where you can tell someone had gone to town with weedkiller. There are old, faded garden decorations around the front porch. Some gnomes with their ceramic hats caved in, a wind chime missing most of its chimes.

You're wandering out of the alley and into the harsh, orange beam of the streetlight when you feel Batman's hand roughly drag you back into the dark. You're about to ask what the problem is when your eyes catch the side of the house.

There's a little window with its grey curtains shut, a dead flower limp on the sill. Next to the window is a backdoor cracked open.

You do not protest when Batman presses up against the side of the house and moves you behind him. There are dogs barking, cars driving by, faint sirens in the distance, but you can't hear anything from inside.

You watch as he presses his hand to the door and slowly pushes it open, peeking in from a safe distance into the dark. Most of the windows are blocked out by sheer curtains, and no light in the house is on from what you can tell.

Batman is a hulking thing, always, but every step is feather-light on the weathered floorboards as you both enter. There's no sign of Russo, even though the house feels warm. Like it'd been lived in recently. Your heart picks up as you swear you see a shadow move in the corner of your eye, but it's just the wind picking up one of the curtains.

You so desperately want to ask him what he's thinking but your voice is stuck in your throat, the thought crashing down upon you that you are here, that somewhere in this house is the man who had ensured you'd be here today (in nearly all the ways that that could apply), and that it was not so far behind you as you might've hoped.

And were you to get an answer—any answer—from Russo tonight, it would not change the fact that your name was still on Bruce Wayne's payroll.

You feel sick to your stomach all over again.

When the living room is clear, you're simultaneously relieved and terrified when Batman leaves you to scope out the adjoining dining room. The house is silent aside from your breathing.

It's a few moments alone that does it; you start to feel another wave of anxiety. It had been a few minutes, hadn't it? Maybe. A minute at least. You're not confident enough to go looking for Batman, and you fear calling out to him would just detrimentally unsettle the atmosphere. You listen for where he might be, any creaks in the floors boards, but there's nothing.

Just as you're about to step into the dining room yourself, something moves out of your peripheral again. Only this time, you realize too late that it's not the curtain.

You barely register the pain at first—the skin of your upper arm splitting in half—but then it's white-hot and you're choking on a cry before you can stop yourself. Something had rushed at you, a person. You shakily touch where they'd cut you.

Was it a knife? It had to be, with how cleanly it tore your skin. Your brain jumps to the next question: was it covered in anything? Would you get infected?

You stumble back and reach into your pocket for your own knife with a little more urgency. The person rushes at you again with something akin to a battle cry and you narrowly dodge their raised weapon, only the sound of it ripping through the curtains tells you it wasn't just another delayed reaction.

You slash at their back while they're still turned and manage to actually make a cut before jumping back. It's not enough, though. Your attacker spins and even though the light has now turned them into nothing but a silhouette, you can feel their crazed gaze on you.

It feels boiling. It feels personal.

Their breathing is ragged, panting from more than just the fight. It sounds like they're foaming at the mouth, rabid and wild, as they spit at you, "You should've died with your little bitch of a friend when you had the chance."

The anger in their voice stuns you before the words do.

They come at you again and you sidestep them once more but it's staggered, allowing the tip of their weapon to slice your cheek open. When you cry out this time, you yell for Batman.

You don't have any concept of time right now, but as you fall to the floor, you swing at your attacker's ankle, hoping to cut a vein, when you feel Batman rush past you and directly into your attacker.

They both crash into the coffee table, glass and wood shattering in a cacophony. You watch through burning eyes as the two wrestle each other, keeping your hand pressed to your arm to still the bleeding even as it slips against the skin. Batman has them pinned when your attacker starts wildly kicking, and one of his feet hits Batman hard in the leg. You don't expect it to be the leverage he needs, but it's enough to daze Batman—he looks suddenly awash with pain—and that's all the attacker needs to slip out from beneath him and head out the back door.

Your heart stutters. How hard did he have to hit him through the suit for it to cripple him so easily?

Batman tries to recover, tries to deploy the grapple gun in his gauntlet to trip him, but he slips into the alleyway just narrowly. Batman is after him in an instant.

You force yourself up from the floor to follow after him, when you realize that within all that commotion, no one else in the house made themselves known.

You stumble up the staircase, haphazardly swiping at the wall for light switches that might help clear the spots in your vision. "Russo!" You call out, and your voice is shaky. You realize you're trembling.

There are too many doors on the upper floor but there is one that is cracked open. You rush toward it first, shoving it open with your good shoulder.

And there, to confirm your worst suspicion, is proof.

You've had enough training in your field not to immediately vomit at the sight even as the smell overpowers you. He's lost weight and he looks smaller than he had been when you were just sixteen. Laying on the floor, drenched in his own blood, Detective Joey Russo isn't the crystal clear picture you'd preserved in your head these past 17 years.

You make it only a few steps before falling to your knees beside him. It's clear he'd passed from the stab wounds not long before you'd arrived and there's just so many. His chest, his stomach, his arms and legs and skull—his face had taken the worst of it. Whoever had done this had been furious.

You can barely bring yourself to stare into his eyes but when you do, you sob. You try to look anywhere else but your eyes just catch on pictures of him on the wall, happy, smiling, with a wife and a kid who leave no traces of themselves in this room.

It's just him. All alone here.

You sway a bit as you reach a hand up to shut his eyes but the blood on your fingers stops you. You realize that you've left a trail on the way up here, and as your eyes retrace back to the bedroom door, you see Batman standing there looking down at you.

He doesn't ask, just walks over to you and hoists you up to stand, forcing you to lean into him for support.

The time between him finding you and the walk downstairs passes in a muddy amount of time and you're stumbling into the hood of his car as your head swims.

You must be losing a bit of blood.

Batman presses a hand to your arm. His other hand goes to your cheek and you flinch away at the sting.

You watch him dizzily. He reaches down to the bottom of his cape and rips a strip off to tie around your bicep. "GCPD is on the way. We have to get you stitched up."

"If only there were a surgeon around." Batman doesn't find your joke funny. Neither do you, all things considered.

The doors open on their own again and he sits you in the passenger seat, leaning it back as far as it'll go before buckling you in. You think you feel his hand linger on yours before he abandons you for the driver's side. The thrum of the engine is the least of your concerns now.

You're halfway down the street when you mumble, "He said... I should've died."

"Stop talking." He doesn't say it with menace, or at least not the kind where you actually mean it. It's all bark and... worry, you think.

You hate the smell of your own blood, which is funny because it smells about the same as everyone else's and usually that's just fine for you. Or maybe you're still smelling Russo's.

You think of your attacker. About what they said. That you should've died with your "little bitch of a friend". It's too convenient to not be—one of the street lights you pass is far too bright and you have to shut your eyes to keep the thought going—be about her. And why her? Why Russo? Why now?

17 years of nothing. And now everything at once.

"Russo," your voice is weaker, "we gotta go back for him."

"Stop talking! I'm trying- shit." This is the most panic you've ever heard in Batman's voice before. The most fear. He hadn't been this worried when he was dying on your living room floor. "Please." He begs.

You're of sound mind enough to know what he's really asking. You should know, even as you sway in and out of consciousness.

You conserve what little energy you have left to focus on the side of his face. His jaw forever clenched. Eyelashes long enough to catch the city light on. And although it's not entirely clear from the angle you're laying at, you search out the blue of his eyes as his face turns to look at you. It's the last thing you see before you give in.

When you come to, you are laying in a hospital bed with a throbbing arm and an equally throbbing cheek. Your scrubs are still in tact, even with the bloodstains down the front and sides. The knees of your pants are stained too, and you are harshly reminded that this blood doesn't belong to you.

The next thing you notice is Em sitting in the chair beside your bed, head thrown back in a peaceful nap. She must've heard—or seen, you don't recall getting from the car to here—and came to keep you company. You'd reach over to tap her knee if it were your good arm's side. The next thing you notice after that is that there is someone else in the room with you two.

It takes a second, but you remember him: a kindly face even with the cloud of disturb that hangs over him. When he sees you're awake, he gets up from his position against the wall and approaches the other side of the bed, "Detective James Gordon," he introduces himself, nodding to you, "we met at the precinct before."

Your voice comes out scraggly, "I remember you."

He flashes you a quick smile, "Well, I'm happy to see you're alright. You lost a bit of blood, but your friend—" A pen materializes in his hand and he points it at Em, still dead to the world, "—said it was just a few stitches."

"Are you here to arrest me?"

He's trained well enough not to look shocked, but you see his expression shift, "Why would I arrest you?"

You swallow, looking down at your scrubs once more, "I assume you're not here to talk about our mutual friend."

James nods. "We examined Joey Russo's home. We found, among other things, your DNA on the scene. Blood in the living room and... upstairs bedroom."

You pinch your pants leg, trying to get at the skin so you could keep the churning of your stomach at bay. Anything to distract yourself from the very vivid image of Russo's lifeless eyes.

James clicks his pen and you focus back on him. He's got a small notepad in his other hand with a few words already written down. You wonder what he's written about, what he's thinking about you right now. "From what I understand, you dropped by the precinct recently asking for the whereabouts of Russo and were denied given his retirement. You mentioned that you were inquiring about an old case involving yourself, is that correct?" James continues after your nod, "You brought this up to the Batman too."

"Yes," your voice wobbles, "I asked if... he could help me."

"And?"

"He said no."

"But you were both there tonight. So, what happened? Why were you looking for Joey Russo?"

You lean up on your good arm, allowing your legs to swing from the bed so you could sit upright in front of James. One glance over your shoulder tells you Em is still asleep, "I told him it was urgent. I had reason to believe confidential information about the case had been leaked to someone. I wanted to confront him, find out if he... was the one that leaked it."

"The case being part of your sealed juvenile records, correct?" James casts a look over you, somewhere between pitying and skeptical, "given your involvement in this situation, I was given access to this record. Detective Russo worked your case 17 years ago, and was, in fact, the person to get your records sealed in the first place. Along with... three others, I believe. And you believed someone had unauthorized access to it?"

"I know- I know. I know they did."

"Can you tell me the name of this person?"

Detective Gordon seems trustworthy. Batman trusts him, you can tell that much. It's just the saying it out loud part that trips you up, "My, um... my employer. Not Rudy, but Bruce Wayne. I'm his personal doctor. I became aware he had this information and wanted to check with Russo myself before I said anything."

James doesn't bother hiding his intrigue this time. His eyebrows shoot up a bit when you say Bruce's name, "Right. And... do you have proof that he has this information? A picture or a recorded conversation, a witness even?"

Of course not. You'd been happy enough to get out of that penthouse without being caught. Your silence is answer enough. James writes something down on his notepad and nods at you, "Well, a single person—especially not a civilian employer—should be able to access something that's not public record. Even Russo couldn't, having been retired. I can't imagine Russo was the one to give him that information unless he just had a file lying around, and I doubt he did. He never revisited that case before he retired in any capacity."

"Is there any way Bruce could have accessed it?"

"There's plenty of ways if you have an in somewhere and the leverage to do so, but this is all speculation. I can look into it, though. See if anyone's accessed the file recently, sniff around. If you come across anything solid, let me know."

You doubted you would. After that night, those files had probably gone into a room with lock and key.

"There was something else that I wanted to talk about, though," James shifts closer to you, "Our mutual friend assured me that you've never been to Russo's house before tonight, and that he had been with you the entire time you were there. From what I understand, there was someone else in the house with the two of you. Do you have any idea who he might've been?"

"No, I... I didn't really get a good look at him."

"What about his voice? Could you describe it?"

"Uh, young. Sounded about my age." Your fingers grip the bedsheets tightly, "He said something. He said that... I should have died. Along with my friend."

James' eyes narrow on you, "Your friend?"

"Alex," you choke out, feeling a tear spill out of your eye, "I know he was talking about Alex."

"Hm. You think that's why he attacked you? He knows you?"

"But I don't know him."

James flips his notepad back a few pages, "There were eight people there the night Alex Villanueva was murdered, including herself and you: your three friends, none of whom have stepped foot in Gotham since 2019. The shooter, Natalie Young. Her younger brother, Dimitri Young. And a fellow member of their gang, Lucien Goulding. Natalie was killed in a shootout 17 years ago, Goulding is currently in prison, and Dimitri... he should be serving life in prison right now."

Your brows furrow, "Should?"

"He and several other inmates were reported missing from Arkham five days ago."

Your mouth goes dry. You squirm in bed with a sudden urge to take off running and never look back. Maybe you'd aim for your mom and dad's in New Jersey, or maybe the Atlantic.

You remember when Dimitri was a head shorter than you, had yet to sprout up so young. You remember what it was like looking at this kid not much younger than you, green eyes watering, curled up on the concrete as Alex kicked and punched and bled him until he could barely limp home.

And how he looked when Natalie came for you. Still a kid.

"Bat said he was about 5'11, 210 pounds, green eyes, shaved head and tattoos. A bit different from what he was when you last saw him. It makes sense you don't remember."

"He wanted to kill me." You whisper.

James—he's an angel, really—gives you a moment to let it sink in. "We want to put a security detail on you. We have strong reason to believe Dimitri was the one to kill Russo, and it's very possible you were next on his list, but I don't think he anticipated you being there tonight... which might've saved your life."

You shake your head, "Batman saved my life."

The detective smiles, "Twice in a row might make him your guardian angel." The both of you turn when you hear Em stir awake from behind, and James goes to dismiss himself, "Well, thank you for your time. You should probably be heading home to get some rest soon, but if you think of anything else, please don't hesitate to let me know." James hands you a business card, "And I'll look into Bruce Wayne for ya. Could be something there. Our mutual friend might know. Take it easy."

"Wait," you call, before he can get out the door, "Russo. He had a- a kid. A son. And a wife, I think. They weren't at the house. Are they okay?"

James looks a little pained as he answers you, "No... uh, his son was murdered a while back. His ex-wife's been living back home in Boston ever since. She's been notified."

There isn't much else to say after that, so he ducks his head as a final goodbye and exits the room, raincoat swaying behind him.

You're awoken by an incessant ringing about 24 hours later.

Popping one eye open, your brain takes in the shadowy lighting of your living room, blinds still halfway up from when you'd first returned home early that morning. Judith had caught you slumped outside of your apartment door and flanked by two officers—roused by the sound of you coming home late—and had helped you to your couch, poured you a glass of water, and stayed with you until the painkillers put you to sleep.

Frankly, you gave yourself permission to lie and rot today. But the ringing would not stop.

You grab your phone, uncaring of the caller, and accidentally press it to your cut cheek with a hiss, "Yes?"

You expect it to be Em, checking in to see if you were still alive. You also expect it to be your mother, checking in to make sure you still planned on staying in Gotham. You even expect it to be Rudy (who had been just about on the verge of tears when he saw you with a busted cheek).

It's none of them. "Can I see you?"

You place the voice instantly, actually going breathless. "I'm- what's... what's wrong?"

Sitting up hurts like a bitch and you realize that you're about two hours past your scheduled Tylenol. You inhale through your teeth and try to gather your bearings.

"I got... stabbed," Bruce sounds guarded, but it shockingly doesn't come across like that's because of the stabbing, "I need your help."

"Jesus! You need to call 911. Or- or get one of your ten million drivers to take you to the ER, or call a fucking helicopter to-"

"The tower, can you come? Now?"

You weren't supposed to be driving. The cops had brought you home, and you very much did not want to ask for that favor. You drop your forehead into your palm, massaging your temple with your thumb, "How deep is it? Did you stop the bleeding?"

"I've got something on it. I just need you to stitch me up."

You glance around the room, hazy, and reach for your water, "I'll need a ride. Can't drive right now."

"He's waiting outside." The line goes dead.

You don't believe him until you go to open your apartment door and see a suited man leaned against the opposite wall, nodding politely at you. You must look like you've sprung from the dead after last night, but no one makes a comment about it. The two officers on either side of the door nod to you, "Says he's a driver for Bruce Wayne and that you'd know what he was here for. His ID checks out, but we're gonna have to tail him if you go with him."

You shut the door and look through the peephole, but the driver looks comfortable waiting.

You'd wonder how Bruce knew you'd need a ride before you said as much, but it was clear by this point that he knew everything about you.

You probably shouldn't go. Not until Gordon looked into him, or Batman. Right?

You root around in your coat pocket for the phone Batman had given you and send a quick text to his number.

Going to Wayne's. Tell Gordon to hurry up with a warrant.

You pop two pills and pull on your coat.

When the elevator doors part, you drag yourself down the hallway, up the stairs, and into the main room. Alfred nor Dory is anywhere to be seen, but with it being past 10 at night, you can only imagine they're off to bed by now. There is just a single light coming from the kitchen, and when you turn to the breakfast table, there is Bruce. Waiting.

He doesn't look at you when you approach, however. One of his hands is holding stained gauze under the neck of his shirt, and the other is gripping the table with white knuckles. You wash your hands at the kitchen sink, then round up on his left side where he's pressing against the back of his shoulder, just out of reach for him to stitch himself. You fear he would've tried had you not answered the phone.

Or, God forbid, come to you.

He looks up when you're right in front of him, scanning you quickly, "Are you okay?" He doesn't sound all that surprised to see you like this. It raises the hairs on the back of your neck.

You pull the neck of his shirt down to survey the damage, for lack of a good explanation, "I'm certain I've got a better excuse than you." Bruce shifts when you move his hand away, exposing the bloody flesh that makes you wince. You set your things on the table and command him to lift his shirt. He hesitates. "What is your excuse?"

"Got caught off guard."

"Where?"

Slowly, Bruce slips his shirt off, allowing you to see the full expanse of his back. There was the angry red stab wound, but there were other things too: moles and beauty marks scattered across his skin that paled in comparison to the several jagged lines across his shoulders and lower back—pink raised skin where it looked like he'd been cut before. Cuts that had healed years ago. You hover your fingers above one and realize they're shaking. "You never told me you and Alfred fight with knives."

"We don't," he glances at you over his shoulder but looks away just as quickly, "some of those scars are from martial artists I trained with in Thailand."

"Some?" You see so many, and those are only the ones that leave visible scars.

"Others are from the Russians."

You begin to lightly clean around his wound and ready the anesthesia but, despite the fact that he cannot see it in your hand, he waves it off completely, "Are they... the people who gave you this?"

He goes silent again. You feel like you should stop asking questions at this point, but they itch at your throat.

He wouldn't call you here to fix this unless he had nowhere else to go.

When you make the first stitch and he doesn't flinch, your eyes flit to his other scars. Martial arts training, he said. The second stitch and still no response. On the third stitch, you press your thumb against the edge of the wound and push down. He actually swears at you as blood dribbles out of the wound, and the hand that had been gripping the table reaches back to grab your lower thigh, effectively bringing the operation to a halt.

You shove his hand off, "What the hell happened? Your hands, your leg—that was easy to explain. But this?"

He has the audacity to glare at you over his shoulder, "I don't pay you to ask questions."

"No, you don't. And yet you could've hired anyone but you hired me. Even though..." You trail off, eyes blazing, because you're not feeling that confident, "the least you can do is tell me what happened."

Bruce holds your gaze until you feel your knees begin to wobble in place. For once, he doesn't look like a wide-eyed, nervous animal in front of you. He looks angry.

Then it's gone. Bruce rolls his shoulders back and you watch the needle, still hanging by its thread, roll against his muscles. More blood seeps from the wound as your hands itch to get back to work. "One question," he starts, looking away from you, "the night of the party, upstairs. You told Alfred no one got on the elevator. But you did, didn't you?"

You swallow. "He said it was broken."

"Be honest with me and I'll be honest with you."

"About anything?"

From behind, you can see Bruce's jaw twitch just so, "Everything."

You step closer. Taking your needle, you resume the suture, "A question for a question, then. To keep it fair."

"Alright."

"Tell me what happened."

"I was looking for someone."

"Who were you looking for?"

"That's another question."

"Fine," you try not to take your frustration out on his skin, "I did. Who were you-"

"Dimitri Young." You still in your stitching. It feels like your heart is inside your head, thumping against your skull with every beat. "What did you see down there?"

You have to rake your petrified brain for context, having nearly forgotten everything that had come before... before... "I- I was... nothing." Bruce hisses through his teeth and you realize that you're just pressing the needlepoint into his skin mindlessly. "Files. A computer. A car underneath a sheet, some tools, a motorbike. A TV playing the news." You don't bother with hiding it now, "How do you know about Dimitri?"

"Because I know about you. Why did you go down there? Not knowing what you might find?"

It takes all that you have to keep the burning tears at bay, "Because I don't trust you. Because everything about this has felt off. I needed to know what you were hiding. What are you gonna do with what you know?"

Bruce takes a moment as if he's thinking about it, but when he answers you, you're for once certain of his honesty, "Nothing. I might set it on fire, if that's what you want."

"You could have another copy lying around. Or a way to access it again."

"I could. But I don't. And I wouldn't want to." He turns his head over his shoulder and you are frozen under his stare, "I'm being honest with you."

"How did you get it?"

"That's another question."

You complete the next few stitches with a little more force than needed, "Then ask me something."

"Why did you take the job if you didn't trust me?"

You laugh humorlessly, "Because I knew the pay would be fucking ridiculous. How did you get my file?"

"You wouldn't have turned me down the first time if that were true."

"Answer me."

"Be honest with me, I'll be honest with you. Why'd you take the job?"

"Because-" You choke, "you... sent me those ridiculous flowers and a handwritten note." Bruce's head tilts, you choke out more, "And when I asked you why you offered me the job, you said that it was because I noticed you were hurt when no one else did. And I said it felt like more than that. I think- I have been trying to get an answer."

Bruce studies you. He must believe you because he finally answers your question, "Russo had nothing to do with it."

"Who did you pay to get it for you, then?"

"That's-"

"Just ask me, God damn it." You finish off the suture and bite off the thread.

"Why did you turn your life around?"

You'd thought about that a lot after that night. The simplest answer was right there, but if you were being honest with yourself (and you were being more honest than you would've liked tonight), you really didn't want to die. "I wanted to live. That's what I'd always wanted. Even though I... really didn't act like it. I never wanted to live more until that moment." This time when you lock eyes with Bruce, you don't want him to look away. Maybe it's because he's defeated you, broken your pride, whatever. Right now, you want to see him.

You don't have to ask again. You watch him rise from the table, flexing his back again, and though you want to scold him for irritating his stitches mere seconds after you've finished them, you just... don't have it in you.

And then he's standing face-to-face with you.

You think the lights and painkillers are deceiving you at first, but this close, you are certain: he is littered with scars and wounds color-picked from late twilight skies. His back doesn't even look this bad. It's always been more than bruised knuckles and leg sprains.

And it's familiar. All of it. Bruises and cuts new and old, the shape of him, the color. The stab wound is new but all of this is months (years) in the making.

The closer you get, the more it knocks the wind out of you. Your eyes follow the length of his torso and then—your fingers press against his side, up against a healed gunshot wound. You brush your thumb against it. It makes you feel nauseous.

You look up and he's looking at you. Defeated. Relieved. You can feel the denial creeping in but it all clicks into place, doesn't it?

The bullet wound, the limp, the job offer, the sprained leg. You couldn't see it because, frankly, they couldn't be any more different from each other. And yet...

Bruce's hand covers yours and keeps it there.

That damned bullet brought you together. It had brought Batman to you, it had brought you to Bruce, and it had solidified in no small way that whatever had led you to this moment in time was years in the making. All because you wanted to live.

"Come with me." And Bruce leads you upstairs.

17 years ago.

"I think it could be good," Alex holds up the bottle to you, "if you're down."

You hate the taste of whatever she's giving you but it does make you tingly. You take a big swig and set it between you on the concrete, "You know I'll go wherever you go."

Alex grins, "That's the spirit!"

On Tuesdays, you and Alex like to watch the cars go by from the alley. It's between a Thai restaurant and a laundromat so it always smells good; if it's not the fabric softener, then it's the pho. It's where you always find her. After a few heart-to-hearts spent curled up on the ground with her here, it became "your" territory.

Claiming it didn't stop people from holing up inside and standing around a barrel fire, nor did it stop the laundromat owner nor the line cooks from coming out to smoke and take out the trash. But it did mean that you both liked it here. For lack of other places to go.

"You know that piece of shit from the Vipers won't take no for an answer?" Alex kicks at a rat that scuttles past, making sure it wouldn't take a bite out of her ankle.

"You're very popular, it's not a surprise."

"Shit, it's just cause they know my parents don't give a shit where I go. They're all like, 'Come join us! You could be one of our best! We'll pay you more in a day than you'd make stealing in a week!' but they don't talk about all the kids floating in the river when they try to do better for themselves."

"Like you'd let someone boss you around." You giggle, and Alex beams.

"No way in hell! I love my independence. See, I can take whatever I want whenever I want. Those sad fucks in the Vipers have to answer to some... some random guy they rarely ever see. Why would I want that?"

You'd seen the kids the Vipers recruited. There was no age limit, some as young as nine were happily making deliveries. It used to be a joke in your school that any kid with a front door would end up in the Vipers eventually.

You wondered if you would've ended up there too, had you not been with Alex.

Your makeshift gang of two which had grown by three in the last few months was less organized than the Vipers. It didn't pay unless you pulled your weight, and most of it was at Alex's discretion. For the most part, none of you moved without her. She was the head, the leader, and the only reason you could afford your new winter boots this month.

And you would truly follow her wherever she went.

You watch a few more cars pass. You press your head to the brick and let the sounds of the city light your nerves. That is until you feel a breeze where Alex had once been. You open an eye and find her inching further into the alley. "Hey," you call, but she turns and shushes you so your next words come out in a whisper, "where you going?"

She frantically waves you over.

You don't see what she's looking at until you get about halfway down the alley, but the voices are crystal clear at this point. There's a woman and a young boy standing off behind a dumpster, but when the woman catches sight of you and Alex, she shoves something into the boy's hands and dips around the corner. The boy, flustered, is just barely able to put it away before Alex is grabbing him by the arm and dragging him into the light.

It becomes clear that he's not a young boy. He's about your age, maybe off by a year or two, but so thin and lanky that his puffer jacket engulfs him completely. Alex yanks his sleeve down to reveal a poorly done tattoo of a snake going up his upper arm, jagged and unfinished like he'd run off in the middle of getting it done. It didn't seem too far-fetched an idea: the guy looked 92 pounds soaking wet.

"You're on the wrong turf, kid." Alex warns, but you know her tone of voice is too final to be a warning.

The guy yanks his arm back, "Fuck off."

You realize what he was fumbling with when the woman had run. A small bag of something white, and a wad of cash sticking out of his pocket. You snort, "Dealing for the Vipers a little far from home, aren't you? You must be new."

The guy tries to escape but Alex grabs the hood of his jacket and drags him back, "We'll overlook the trespassing if you give us a cut."

"Leave me alone. This place doesn't belong to anyone." But as soon as he says it, Alex takes a hold of his dirty blond hair and yanks his face up to look at her. You go to grab his money while he's distracted but you don't expect him to brandish a knife until he slashes at you. He misses, but it sets Alex off.

She uses his hair to throw him into the side of the dumpster and you can see the thoughts rattling around his head upon impact.

"Right, everything belongs to the Vipers. Is that why your boss is still Falcone's little bitch?"

The guy is indignant against the taunts. He tries to slash at her but Alex is faster, always has been, and she has his wrist in a death grip before he can even get close. You watch her twist it back until he lets out a cry of pain, the knife clattering to the floor at your feet. You take it and hold it up to his neck, watching his eyes go wild between you and Alex.

"Give us the money and we'll pretend this never happened-" you start, but jump back when you feel something wet hit your cheek. You almost don't believe it, but the guy has some spittle dribbling down his bottom lip and a satisfied smile when you lock eyes with him again.

Alex wasn't just fast. You remember her standing up to your childhood bullies between classes and giving them shiners that she still bragged up to this day. It took a few years before you both stopped ending up with twice as many injuries, and a few more years after that before you stopped having bullies at all.

And this guy— maybe he didn't know what he'd gotten himself into and that extended to more than just this moment in time—was half the size of the guys Alex had beaten to tears in the past.

It does not surprise you that he crumbles to the ground with the very first punch to his gut. Alex hits hard first to make the fights quick, and so when her next punch lands on his nose, you know that something has been broken. With each kick to his gut, the tears free flow as if surely, the next hit will kill him.

You watch silently. Alex is unforgiving.

After a minute or two goes by, he is so beaten down that he wheezes every time he breezes. You're certain Alex has gone overboard but something in your heart swells at the thought that it was for you.

When all is said and done, you snatch the money from his jacket and he doesn't bother to stop you, head leaning against the ground as tears and blood and snot trickle into a puddle. For good measure, Alex snatches the drugs too, "Don't show your face in this alley again or you won't leave alive."

And you know this is a lie. A trick to make her bigger and badder. A threat that she would never follow through on. Because Alex always made herself look bigger, badder, scarier, deadlier. It's what protected you both on the streets. It's what made you follow her, what made your friends follow her.

Alex was everything, and you would follow her anywhere.

You ride in silence together down to the terminus. You feel much the same as you did the first time. Bruce pulls back the gate and you spill out into the dark, but much like before, the lights and TV kick on. The News 7 jingle plays, Bruce pads over to mute it.

You watch him stand a few feet away from you, avoiding your eyes as they sweep the floor. There are those same tools scattered about, hubcaps stacked on top of tires, wires going from one side of the room to the other. It looks just like you'd last seen it, only the car that had once been covered by tarp is now on full display. It gleams in the overhead lights, as much of a monster in clear view as it was in shadow.

He really wasn't shitting you.

When you still don't say anything, Bruce walks over to his desk. Underneath it is a crate full of folders, and you realize he's getting yours when he turns and holds one out to you. You take it, inching closer. Without a word shared, Bruce pulls up something on his computer and you nearly flinch when your mugshot is reflected back at you on one of the screens.

"Your record isn't accessible unless I use a workaround which isn't... legal, but it's how I found your file without Russo. The GCPD doesn't know." You peer at him from the corner of your eye, urging him to explain, "I taught myself how to get in."

Your eyes are welling up with tears the longer you stare at the younger version of yourself. Bruce continues, "I know what the record says. That they traced back a few robberies to you and your friends over the years, and that you'd had a run in with a Viper the night you met Russo. You helped track them down, took out a portion of the gang's operation, and your record was sealed. That's all."

"They didn't trace all of them back to us," you start, not really wanting to talk, "just some. There were more."

Bruce seems to sense that as he closes the record, "It's your turn. To ask, I mean."

You look at Bruce in the face and hate the softness there. You can't be angry, or numb like you wish you could be. Your chest is all twisted up with emotion with no one feeling staying for long, even if it would flare up again every once in a while. "Did you know about me before or after you asked me to work for you?"

"Before. After that morning, I couldn't stop... thinking about you. Truth be told, me and Alfred have been doing this alone ever since I started. Before you, he was the one that would stitch me up, kept me out of doctor's offices where someone might talk. But he was also running the company for me, and taking care of me, and worrying about me. I knew if I was going to commit to this, I would need to try and stay alive, and I always meant to find someone but it wasn't an easy decision to make. Until I met you."

You know it's his turn now, but you can't help asking, "And you didn't think... maybe the kid with a record would be a bad idea?"

Bruce cracks a smile, "I mean, the stitches never got infected." You would've laughed at that if you were in a better mood. "I wasn't always so understanding. But I imagine someone who's dedicated the better part of their life to saving lives has more than made up for it."

Your head automatically shakes, "I can never make up for what I did."

"You don't have to tell me everything," he begins delicately, "but I need to know what Dimitri is after. I need to know what he's thinking. You're the only one who can help me."

You blink away a few tears and plop into a stool by his desk, dropping your head in your hands. The memories suffocate you, rushing at you like a flash flood. You don't know where to start, let alone what you want to tell him. An hour ago, you were certain he was caught up in a Gotham mob, planning to use your history as blackmail for... something.

You can't quite reconcile the feelings you have for Batman with the face of Bruce Wayne. Or who you thought was Bruce Wayne.

But he was right. You were the best chance at catching Dimitri. You were the only one who could make it up to Russo.

You swallow at the memory of Russo's mutilated body, but then... you remember him in that police station. When you were 16 and wishing you were dead. You suck in a sharp breath, "I met Alex when I was a baby. I mean, we've known each other for a long time- knew each other. She and I used to be attached at the hip. She protected me from bullies and I would sneak out at night to listen to her vent about her parents, about Gotham. She fucking hated it here. I did too.

"Alex and I learned that if you want to survive, you have to be powerful. So we became powerful. You might not think a pair of 14 year olds are all that powerful in the grand scheme of things but when it was just us against the world, it was addicting. When we wanted something, we just... took it. We started off pickpocket-ting on the streets, usually assholes who could afford to lose a hundred or two. And then we started robbing places, small-time stuff, you know. Run down houses, apartments, swiping out of registers when no one was looking. If anyone gave us shit, we just turned tail and ran. It was hard enough trying to make ends meet for our parents, and we liked the thrill of it. We rarely ever got caught.

"Eventually, some of our friends from school joined us and we become a little piece-of-shit gang. God. We were like... fucking 15, running around the city like we were so big and bad. My parents had no clue what I was really up to but they knew something was wrong. I didn't care. I was with Alex and I would follow Alex anywhere. We had this little alleyway, right? Between a Thai place and a laundromat. That's where I could always find her. And one day, we were fucking around and caught some guy dealing back there. Alex got pissed. We tried to take his money but he defended himself. I said something... he spit at me. And Alex just lost it.

"She beat him into the concrete and I just... watched. This guy, couldn't even throw a punch if his life depended on it, and she just wailed on him. And I watched. And I liked it. I felt powerful. We felt powerful. I know, a pair of jackass teenagers hurting people for fun? We were pathetic. But it didn't feel that way, being with Alex. She was my best friend."

The tears are free-falling now and you don't even bother to wipe them away. It would feel cowardly. You couldn't hide from Bruce now, not anymore. Not if he wanted to believe in you. "We didn't know who this kid was, other than the fact he was a Viper. A young one, a weak one. We didn't think he'd even last a week. Most kids like him end up getting disposed of by the boss anyway. And then all five of us were fucking around in that alley again when they showed up: the guy, Dimitri, and his sister Nat and this other kid. All of 'em Vipers.

"Nat wanted the money and the drugs back. Kid had a black eye so I guess he'd gotten shit from his boss about it. Alex was... indignant. Refused. For once, I begged her to give in but she just wouldn't fucking listen. Of course she wouldn't, do you know how much I enabled her? We were on top of the world, why would she give in? And she really pissed Nat off with that, but then she started mouthing off and then... Nat shot her. Right in front of me. It was instant."

Bruce remains incredibly still. His lips part to say something but nothing really comes out. You keep on going, "I was so shocked that I didn't even move when Nat turned the gun on me. It was like... I don't know, it was like I couldn't quite believe she was dead. But I understood what happened. Logically. I saw it happen. I saw the bullet in her brain. And when Nat turned on me, I think a part of me just... didn't want to have to think about it. Like a coward. If it wasn't for our friends pulling me out of the way, I wouldn't... be here. Next thing I knew, I was at the GCPD getting investigated for murder."

"They thought one of you did it?"

"The cops that brought us in, yeah. They just so happened to be around the corner when we ran into them. By that time, Nat and Dimitri had run off. The cops thought it was some fight between the five of us and that one of us pulled the trigger, but they couldn't find the gun. That's when Detective Russo showed up."

"And he offered to get you a plea deal."

You nod, sniffling, "He told me... he said that he could tell I'd never seen something like that before. There was no way I could've done it. And when I couldn't even finish the whole story without choking up, he said... he said that in exchange for our help catching Natalie, he would make sure all the crimes they tied back to us were sealed and expunged."

"What about Natalie? How did they find her?"

"The GCPD had been looking into the Vipers for months. Vipers almost exclusively recruit minors because they're more loyal, but there wasn't a way to get in without putting some innocent kid in danger. So they had us look into it. We found one of their hideouts by the docks. GCPD wanted to get the kids out and into the foster system since a lot of them were orphans, like Natalie and Dimitri. But the ambush didn't take. They got a couple kids out but... a few died, including Nat. Last I heard of Dimitri, he got tried as an adult for killing a cop during the shootout. That was life in Arkham."

Bruce shifts closer, "Until he got out. And he came looking for Russo."

"He was just a kid, Bruce," your voice cracks, "he was just a kid. He couldn't even defend himself. And because we were assholes we got his sister killed and we got him put away. He was just a kid."

"So were you."

Something about the tender way Bruce says that makes you sob. For years, you've looked back on that moment with so much guilt, knowing how lucky you were to make it out of that situation alive and unscathed. How lucky you were to be taken seriously, to be cared for, for a detective like Joey Russo to show you a picture of his kid in his wallet and tell you that he would hate to see them in your position.

You were lucky that you got to fix your grades and go to college, study medicine, save lives, be here. Natalie didn't get that. Dimitri didn't get that. Alex didn't get that.

"You said... you said you hated Gotham. Why did you stay?"

You wipe at your cheeks, "I- I honestly... I wanted to. My parents made a deal with me that we would leave for New Jersey after I graduated but I didn't want to leave. I couldn't. I couldn't leave Alex. I couldn't leave the city, after all I'd done to it. In it. I wanted to leave like my friends because the guilt was so much but I felt obligated to fix it. I wanted to help people. Not hurt them. And I've worked hard to do better. I just can't leave. I don't want to leave."

What surprises you is the hand on your face afterwards. Bruce cups his your cheek. His thumb brushes away some tears, and it feels so unlike Bruce even though it's him, even though he's the one who cradled and comforted you after being held hostage, even though he was the one that stood on your fire escape and confessed that he trusted you, liked you even. Your brain just sort of stops there. You melt like putty in his hand. You realize you've been craving a gentle touch like this for a while.

"Then you won't have to," Bruce casts his eyes to the side, looking at where you laid your file on the desk. You can see the cogs turning beneath his furrowed brow, "I'll make sure of it."

"How?"

"...You won't like it."

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Genshin Guys on Your Birthday (Zhongli, Kaeya, Neuvillette, Wriothesley)

Y'all are getting two posts today. This one now and one from my blog at it's usually scheduled time.

On another note, Happy Birthday to Me!

CW: None, fluff, slightly suggestive in Kaeya's

Zhongli x gn!reader, Kaeya x gn!reader, Neuvillette x gn!reader, Wriothesley x gn!reader

Zhongli

he goes all out on your birthday

Not in a tons of presents kind of way, but you know he spent quite a bit on your birthday present.

I mean, he's a stickler for quality in general, it's just worse on your birthday (don't worry, tartaglia heard it was your birthday and was happy to donate top the cause)

He makes you breakfast in bed (your favorites), schedules lunch at whatever restaurant you want, and cooks you your favorite meal himself for dinner

Depending on your personality he helps H Tao with the planned birthday party or helps you avoid it like the plague

After dinner the two of you curl up on the couch and cuddle until bed

Kaeya

Your birthday is a huge deal and nothing will ever convince him otherwise

For the most part, when he's around you he lets that charming face drop. Not today.

He goes all out. Makes sure you have a big birthday party.

He enlisted Klee's help, so there's a chance something got blown up in the process, cough cough the good hunter stove but the result was a very bright and lively venue

The picnic happens early. After all, there is a kid attending and he has plans for later

Said plans include a picnic (with your choice of drinks, alcoholic or otherwise) and fireworks

He basically begged Jean to let him order B-Day fireworks from Yoimiya, though it didn't actually take that much work. Any kind of collaboration with Inazuma is good in her eyes, and Jean is fond enough of you, it was no issue. (she's also very glad that Kaeya didn't enlist Klee in making the explosives. Yoimiya, she trusts. Klee, not so much.)

And of course, Kaeya does his very best to make sure your satisfied in other ways. If he has his way, you're not walking home. Not that he doesn't mind carrying you. After all, it would be his fault you're boneless and on cloud nine.

Neuvillette

Let's be honest, Sedene thought he was going to have a heart attack in the days weeks leading up to your birthday

Sure, he's dealt with Furina's birthday and his is a public holiday or sorts, but that's not the same as it being your birthday

This is the first time he's celebrated a birthday that isn't a holiday, so he's a bit at a loss as to how to celebrate it

After some research, he figures out that sweets is going to be part of it, but presents? Birthday party? What the heck?

After some thought he enlists both the help of the Melusines (who would be very upset if they didn't get to help) and several humans. Navia in particular was a huge help. (And Wriothesley for making sure to remind Neuvie that Melusines should not be in control of dinner. Neuvie is very smart, but he has a weak spot for the Melusines and they certainly volunteered for the job)

Overall it was the most...interesting birthday party you've ever had. A combination of Melusine and Human decorations, fireworks, and every friend you have. And, of course, the best, most expensive water Teyvat has to offer

Neuvillette plans this for earlier in the day --he decided that taking the day off would be appropriate Wriothesley and Sedene's idea as well so he has time afterward for a more private

The two of you leave the city for the afternoon and walk around the countryside or go swimming. Simply content to spend the time in each other's company. It 100% rains, but that's not unusual

That evening he takes you to an expensive restaurant and gives you the gift he spent far too long picking. It was worth it to see your face though, lighting up like a child. You don't care if your in public when you give him a long, deep kiss in thanks, with a secret vow to make sure his next birthday is even better than he made yours

Wriothesley

Birthdays with Wrio are pretty chill affairs

He makes sure you have time to open the gifts sent from the over world, from the inmates, and from Sigewinne, but after that, no one should expect to see you for the rest of the day and most of the night

Whether it's running around the wilderness, going to the Opera (if the show of the day isn't a trial), or just walking around the city

He's also pretty unsubtle about trying to buy you a bunch of pretty stuff. You're his s/o, he thinks you deserve the world, and at least on your birthday you're willing to let him

But mostly, his gift to you is time and attention. On your birthday it's all about you

If you decide half way through that you want to go home and spend the day just hanging out there too, that's fine by him

And when you go back, only to stumble into the surprise party the inmates and Sigewinne spent the say putting together, well you don't believe it one bit when Wrio said he had nothing to do with it

[reallyromealone]

Here was the original plot. Alpha

Shinchiro is to takes over and becomes an Emperor as he enters his early twenties because his parents were assassinated and his grandfather is to old to rule anymore. He manages to take very good care of the kingdom while also having time for his half siblings and full related brother mikey who is just a pup. Everything is going fine until mikey's wet nurse tries to kill him but is lucky caught before she can pull it off and is immediately dealt with.

Now Shinchiro is in a pickle. Mikey needs to nurse but he doesn't trust any omega to do it, that's until he meets name.

The man is an unmated omega who works as a gardener in the palace grounds and he offers to help because the sound of mikey's distressed cries caused him to lactate.

Shinchiro is about to refuse but something strange happens.

Mikey stops crying at the sight of the man and even tried to reach out for the omega to carry him, something he does only to family members, heck the pup was even fussy around his former wet nurse before she decided to fuck up.

Seeing no better option the Emperor agrees and let's name be his brother's wet nurse for the time being.

He begins to notice just how kind the man is, especially when he takes care of his siblings and the young toddlers and pup just absolutely love the man to bits. He finds himself beginning to begrudgingly fall for the pretty man, even starts to lust over him, becomes possessive by scaring off any alpha or beta trying to court him in secret. He tries to keep his composure in check but loses it when name accidentally goes in early heat when he's with the Emperor alone in his study.

Hope tumblr doesn't eat this one

@pastel-omegas-blog

So Emma's gonna be a year older than Mikey in this

I changed a few details to make more sense and heads up

This is long

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Shinichiro didn't want to be emperor like this.

It was the morning of his twentieth birthday, little Mikey having been only a few weeks old when things went to hell.

His parents were set to return from business this afternoon to celebrate when their carriages were...attacked.

So now here was emperor Shinchiro Sano, grandfather too old to rule and a baby brother who depended on him.

Izana didn't fully understand what happened, only being three and a half.

Emma even less so.

Despite the kingdom in mourning over the loss of their beloved ruler, Shinchiro pushed on and took the torch.

He was unsurprisingly an excellent ruler, having been groomed for this his entire life.

Things were going smoothly till Mikey's wet nurse was dragged before him.

"We saw her with a blade above the prince, your Highness!" One of the guards said as the woman struggled to get free, Shinichiro stared at her coldly.

"You tried to kill him?"

"P-please your Highness have mercy!"

"Mercy? You just tried to kill my baby brother..." Shinichiro seethed "take her to the dungeons, her trial will be tomorrow"

Shinichiro immediately rushed to check on Mikey who was sleeping happily, the medics having checked on him.

"Shin! Play with us!" Izana said excitedly, completely unaware of what just went down as Emma held her big brothers hand as they stared at shinichiro with wide eyes.

"Jiros awake?!" Izana said as shinichiro crouched "yeah, he's awake but remember indoor voices, his ears are still little" shinichiro said as the two looked at their baby brother curiously.

Shinichiro let his siblings take him to one of the palaces many gardens "(name) gonna be here?" Emma asked Izana and Shinichiro looked at the two confused "whose (name)?" Instantly suspicious and it didn't help at what just happened less than two hours ago.

He was on high alert currently.

"The gardener! He taught us how to make flower crowns when he was eating his lunch!" Izana boasted as they spotted (name) currently spot cleaning the impeccable rose bushes and getting rid of any pesky weeds.

Shinichiro knew of this Gardener, he was one of the few omegas that weren't a maid or Butler.

The two children immediately ran towards him and (name) had to halt them "remember the rules?" He said firmly and the two pouted "no muddy shoes or Mr. (Nanny) has to give us baths" "exactly, now what can I do you two for?"

"Come meet our brother!" Izana demanded and (name) looked up to see Emperor Shinichiro himself standing there with a tiny babe in his arms, staring at (name) coldly "your Highness!" (Name) immediately bowed before the emperor, the two toddlers confused at the sudden shift.

"Thank you for being attentive to my siblings" Shinichiro said stiffly as (name) avoided eye contact with the emperor, knowing his feelings towards omegas and honestly (name) couldn't blame him.

"(Name)! You should make shin a flower crown since he's emberer!" Izana said excitedly and Emma perked up "Yeah!" And (name) just wanted to die right there.

Then little Mikey began crying.

"Shhshh" shinichiro tried soothing the babe and (name) struggled with his instincts.

You see, he spends a lot of time with the royal pups and Because of this, his bodies biology thought there were babies needing to be fed, thus his chest began producing milk.

And crying pups? Basically opened the floodgates.

Shinichiro noticed this and looked at (name) confused and a little startled.

Then Manjiro reached towards the gardener needily.

He had never done that.

Well not with anyone outside family.

"Y-your highness, I am most definitely overstepping but do you want me to feed him?"

Shinichiro really wanted to say no but he didn't want his brother to starve so begrudgingly he sat on a stone bench and motioned (name) to sit beside him "anything happens to him I will have you beheaded" shinichiro said coldly as (name) unbuttoned his shirt "understood, your Highness" (name) said gently taking the tiny pup who immediately latched on and ate vigorously.

"Are you with child?" Shinichiro asked confused as the two other pups chased a butterfly, leaving the adults to converse.

"Ah no, you see..." (Name) explained how the whole lactation thing happened and Shinchiro nodded in understanding as (name) gently burped baby Manjiro "so brave, you did so good!" (Name) said softly as he handed the babe back but Manjiro wasn't ready to leave the embrace of the Omega much to both of their surprise.

"Continue holding him, he seems to like you" shinichiro commanded and (name) did, holding the royal pup close to his chest.

Shinichiro debated in his head and after realizing he has no better options he came to a begrudging acceptance "I want you to be the pups full time nanny and wet nurse"

(Name) looked shocked and confused "I don't know if I would be qualified your Highness.."

"My siblings seem to take a shining to you and you're the only Omega that wasn't our dam that Manjiro liked" Shinichiro said professionally, eying the omega who smiled down at his brother and the pup looked back happily.

"I will accept, I wouldn't forgive myself if this little angel had to suffer because of me"

Shinichiro made a sound of approval "follow me then, you two!" The tots looked at their brother "come, we have to show your new nanny where he will be staying" the toddlers immediately followed after, shinichiro lifting Emma as Izana held his hand.

(Name) was surprisingly great with the royal pups, attentive and kind and even finding ways to include little Manjiro in their games, the tiny blond just happy to be there really.

Over the months Shinchiro noticed how much the pups genuinely cared for the Omega and vice versa and how kind he was to everyone and everything.

It was mid day when he noticed (name) playing peekaboo with Manjiro as the two pups had their classes with their tutor, little Manjiro squealing when he saw the omegas face again.

Shinichiro wondered how well of a damn he would---

No. Absolutely not.

He was not going to have those thoughts about that Omega.

It was two am, shinichiro lay in his bed unable to sleep as thoughts of the Omega plagued his mind.

The thoughts weren't innocent either, the emperor saw the omegas chest today and it hadn't left his brain once.

It wasn't like (name) was trying to seduce him intentionally either like the last nanny had attempted.

Maybe it was his instincts and seeing the Omega caring for those close to him.

Shinichiro went about his business, pretending he didn't care about the Omega.

But everyone noticed how... possessive he became over the other.

The pups were having a playdate with the Akashi children, Shinichiro giving (name) the day off to spend as he pleases.

(Name) was getting ready to go into town, get some things he needs and see his family when an alpha halted him.

"You're... (Name) right?" The Alpha looked slightly embarrassed as (name) glanced at him "yes? Are you alright?"

The Alpha swooned at his caring nature "I-I was wondering if you wanted to possibly..." The Alpha fumbled with his words and sadly Emperor Shinichiro aka (name)s most begrudgingly down bad alpha heard this interaction and even worse that head knight Wakasa was with him.

The Alpha paled as the two entered the space, (name) bowing politely to both of them calmly "hello your Highness, Sir Wakasa" (name)s voice even as Shinichiro looked at him then at the Alpha "return to your station" and like that the poor alpha scurried off.

"You off to see your family?" Wakasa asked the Omega who beamed "yes! I'm also going to do some light shopping" (name) said softly and shinichiro felt jealousy as how casual the two were together "you two know one another?"

"When he was still the gardener, the knights would bother him by moving the soil for him for extra weight training" wakasa explained knowing of his close friends feelings towards the Omega "honestly at that point I just had them move it for me" (name) jokes with a soft laugh and shinichiro wanted to hear it more.

Shinichiro was never the luckiest with courting, people mainly wanted him for status but (name) just treated him like an employer and sometimes fond acquaintance.

(Name) plagued not only his thoughts but dreams, Shinchiros mind coming up with the raunchiest of scenarios usually involving (name) in various positions doing various acts.

This Omega was going to kill him

(Name) was quiet as he followed shinichiro in the library, it was absolutely massive and filled with various books.

"You want children's books?"

"Yes your Highness, to read to the children and I learned Manjiro enjoys stories... He really likes stories about hero's and dragons" (name) explained and Shinichiro nodded, the other caretakers never made attempts like this with his siblings.

(Name) genuinely cared for the pups, Shinichiro pretended like he didn't see the Omega sneak the pups treats from time to time.

"Well we don't have a shortage of those..." Shinichiro said turning to look at the omega "thank you... For taking such good care of them" shinichiro gently cupped (name)s cheek and traced his thumb over (name)s cheek "I must confess... I have also albeit begrudgingly... Grown quite fond of you myself" shinichiro gently pulled (name) closer to him, (name)s hands on the Emperor's chest "is this why you scared off any person who tried speaking to me?" (Name) joked slightly and Shinichiro looked away embarrassed "you noticed that?"

"You practically attacked them" (name) laughed as he gently moved hair from Shinichiros face only for the emperor to gently kiss the palm of (name)s hand.

Shinichiro didn't realize how many pharamones he was pumping out, wanting to kiss the Omega so badly "I wish to formally court you" Shinichiro stated as he looked deeply into (name)s eyes, the Omega was shocked before mumbling "really?"

"Absolutely..."

"I accept"

Months had passed as they got closer and shinichiro wanted nothing more than to take the Omega and ravish him.

That was until today.

Shinichiro wanted (name)s company that day, the children with grandpa Sano that day so (name) was free for shinichiro to monopolize as he pleased.

The two sat in his office as Shinichiro aggressively did paperwork, pumping out pharamones like a madman "s-shin..." (Name) gasped out, slumped against the ornate couch as the Alpha finally looked up to see that (name) had entered an early heat most likely due to the pharamones.

"(Name)! Are you alright?" He rushed over and checked on his Omega, (name) whining when he touched him "I-I think my heat..."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Nest?"

(Name)s room would have been to far, so shinichiro took him to his own where the Omega clung to his bedding "do you want me to leave?"

"Please no... Please stay... I-I feel safe with you"

Shinchiro felt his heart stop "you know what that means right?"

"I trust you..."

The two ended up bonding from that heat, kick-starting their wedding in the process.

Shinichiro was far more openly romantic with his Omega now, showering him with gifts and affection as the pups grew excited that (name) and shinichiro were getting married.

Except little Manjiro.

The five month old baby growled angrily whenever Shin tried to get to his food source and cuddle buddy, the tiny baby snacking at shin if he got to close.

"ABABABA!" Mikey yelled out as shin glared at his brother "he's my mate! I get to hold him too!"

"No!" Mikey yelled angrily and (name) began laughing, that being the babes first word.

"So angry he learned his first word" shinichiro sighed as his brother clung to (name).

[hotchfiles]

hiii, saw your prompt post!!!! 13 + 16 with remus please (if you don’t do both at the same time just 13, but i thought it’d be a good combo)

send me one of my boys + a prompt

remus + reader ⋆ 13 + 16

      The touching starts early, first year early.

      Your friends from home wouldn't call you particularly shy, but none of them were there when you got off the Hogwarts Express, after spending the whole trip not exchanging more than a few words with the people who sat with you, you desperately needed to find anyone who looked remotely nice, but still approachable.

      Remus was there, quiet, shy beautiful smile, a book in hand you've read before, so you stand by his side, not saying anything at first, but feeling the brush of his hand on yours due to the agitation before the house sorting.

      You didn't even know him, still, it helped you feel calmer, if you needed to talk to someone, he was there, you could talk about the book. It was a plan.

      And it works, when you both get sorted into the same house, you quickly found your way to his side, and into his group of friends, into his routine and into his heart.

      You tell him how being by his side brought you comfort that first day, and being needed, bringing something good to someone's life like that... It was almost too much for an eleven year old to bear, he makes it a point for himself from then on, to be by your side, whenever possible.

      When you're eleven you stand side by side, fingers barely touching, he offers his hand to help you when you trip and fall down, your arms touch in class because you're desk mates, your hands touch during lunch because both of you are always going for the same dishes.

      At twelve, he flicks your forehead for the first time to tease you, beginning an never ending war, whenever one or the other does something a little bit stupid, or goes a bit too far on the banter, two fingers and a click are coming, begins on the forehead, by the end of the year, the shoulder, the back of the head, arms, hands, cheeks, all fall victim to the awfully irritating war tactic.

      At thirteen, Hogsmeade weekends are chiseled by the way Remus takes your arms in his every time you're all about to leave, side by side, arms tangled as his hand went right to his pocket. You try not to feel anxious for it, but you silently count the days for when it's time to go there again.

      At fourteen he's already gotten so much taller, and he loves when you rest your head on his shoulder, he's also gotten the habit to almost hug you from behind when you're all standing up and talking, putting his arms on both of your shoulders, crouching down just enough so his chin is on the top of your head.

      When you're both fifteen, all these little touches begin to make your stomach twirl around, and when girls look at him you feel like you're going to either throw up or punch them in a rage fit.

      You start tracing Remus' scars with your fingers when its healed, and patching it up when its not.

      Getting off the train for your sixth year, Remus offers his hand to help you hop off, he doesn't let go when you do, holding hands becomes the norm. Reaching for each other's hand when something good is happening, or something terrible.

      He often places his arm around your neck, and you intertwine your fingers with his hand there.

      You lay on his lap on the common room, facing the fire place, and he reads to you while his fingers go from rubbing your arm to putting your hair behind your ear. He gives you good morning kisses, one cheek only, but it always lingers, and good night kisses, on your forehead, and it also lingers and always ends in a tight hug, your hands on his waist, his around your shoulders and on your head, pulling you close to him.

      You dance drunkenly during parties and it always feels like something is about to happen.

      But it doesn't.

      He almost doesn't let you go at King's Cross, enjoying every tiny bit of the last touch of the year, only pulling his arm back when even the tip of his fingers can't feel yours.

      It's seventeen and he helps you out of the train, and it's the first day of your last year, and his heart feels like it's going to burst if he doesn't do anything about it.

      It's not the most romantic place, or the most romantic time, but he knows if he waits too long he's gonna miss too precious of moments with you, so when curfew hits and the few people in the common room begin to leave, he holds you in place and you wait.

      It's silent for a while as you both just admire each other, Remus shakes his head a chuckles for a good second, not believing he took so long to actually do this, you laugh along with him.

      And it could be awkward. But it isn't, because it's him.

      You notice his hair still has that bit of light from the summer, making him almost blonde, but not so much, and he notices how your teeth are nibbling on your lower lip, anxiously waiting for something to happen.

      And this time it does, he takes your face with his hands and scooches closer to you, "can i kiss you?"

      If it was anyone else, you might feel childish by how hard your heart beat after he finally, finally asks it. You feel like you've been waiting for this moment from the second you saw him years ago, but you're sure you've been dreaming of being even closer to him for at least three years, you want to kiss him since you were fifteen.

      You nod in a hurry, afraid he might give up.

      "Took you so long to ask."

      He barely gets the yes and his hands drop to your waist, lips hungrily touching yours, you kissed back with just as much passion, landing your arms around his neck, his lips are chapped, but soft, yours taste like strawberries from your chapstick and he's going to remember that.

      He doesn't even have to try to deepen the kiss himself, you're more than willingly giving him entrance and as your tongues brushed against each other you can feel his breath and yours almost synchronize and think to yourself that might be the most romantic thing you've ever lived through.

      But then you part ways for air and he looks into your eyes and you see the same sweet, supportive, caring eyes that have been looking back at you since you were eleven, and realize the mere existence of Remus was the most romantic thing to ever happen to you.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

for the cullens, who would you say is the most to least set in their ways?

That's hard, anon, because... well, they're the Cullens.

But alright, let's make this controversial list.

Rosalie

Edward and Rosalie compete for the top spots here but I think Rosalie has to win because we don't see her change significantly in canon. Because of Bella and his falling in love with her, Edward changes both his outlook on life and significant personal beliefs (vampires having souls).

Now, it's hard going to get there, and he doesn't really change as a person, but he does confront himself and does grow in the series.

Rosalie, however, firmly believes that being human is the only option no matter what, even when faced with Bella who shows someone who firmly wants to become a vampire, doesn't want children (at first), and is quite happy upon becoming a vampire.

Rosalie has her set beliefs and she really really really doesn't want to change even when presented alternatives. She also doesn't want to admit that hey, what may be the right thing for Rosalie may not be the right thing for Bella and things that matter to Rosalie may not matter to Bella.

Rosalie is incredibly stubborn and not just set in her ways but determined to be set in them.

Edward

Runner up is Edward.

Edward has certain views of himself, the world, Bella, his father, just about everyone that he will not change no matter the evidence he is presented with. He also is incredibly stubborn and when he decides on a course of action, fuck you, that's what he's going to do.

The entire series takes place because Edward is absolutely unwilling, in all circumstances no matter how dire, to ever turn Bella into a vampire.

Add onto that things like Edward being bound and determined to kill himself via the Volturi the moment Bella dies (remember he plans this early in Twilight when he realizes he's in love. He knows he's not going to turn her, so he's going to wait out her human life then kill himself afterwards and he has the whole thing planned out. It was just a matter of when).

Edward also wants to be a gentleman from the 1910's, when he grew up, and says as much often. Bella wants to do modern dating? Well, Bella, Edward wants to be a gentleman (except when it gets in the way of the things he wants, then he's going to ignore that).

Edward's incredibly set in his ways.

Alice

Alice is interesting.

In some ways, she's the very definition of flexibility. Alice is a leaf on the wind, following her visions for the best future, and as a result never quite understandable. She doesn't fight her visions, isn't set on a particular course of action, and will pivot as needed to do what's best for her and her family.

Except that's the thing, that's a philosophy and way of being Alice.

This is the way Alice has been for her entire life that she can remember, following her third eye and doing what's best, manipulating those around her in a benign manner to get the best outcome even if there are risks.

In many ways, Alice really should be number one, except that it's not that stubbornness of Rosalie and Edward and you are able to negotiate with her (so long as her inner eye agrees that's for the best).

Esme

Esme's third but it's a trailing fourth.

Esme doesn't have the willful stubbornness of Edward and Rosalie, the lack of any desire to change whatsoever under any circumstances or ever change her mind about things, but she does seem very unflappable and very untouched by anything that happens around her.

Esme always unfailingly sees the best in people--even people who are an enemy army of vampires going into Bella's bedroom to steal her clothes. There are times she seems completely out to lunch with what's happening and fails to confront Edward on his alarming behavior (she confronts him but it goes sideways quickly).

It's hard to imagine Esme changing her ways significantly because she's so... Esme.

Jasper

This is a very very very trailing fifth for Jasper, he's nowhere near Rosalie and Edward's level and really not set in his ways at all. Jasper overturns his life, goes on a whacky diet after eating people for a hundred fifty years, starts going to high school.

Jasper is far from set in his ways.

But he does have trouble adjusting and getting himself out of the "I am a territorial warlord" headspace.

Jasper's always looking for threats and how to eliminate them, he doesn't think twice about killing Bella in Twilight to keep the secret even when the family's debating over whether this is something they should do. In Eclipse he's right back in his element of planning the fight with the newborn army.

He struggles the most with his thirst (though this is likely due to losing the genetic lottery and not so much personality) and as a result struggles with the Cullen lifestyle.

He tries to interact with Bella as a human and when he does it leads to disaster and then he retracts and keeps huge distance until he feels he can safely be around her.

Jasper's not set in his ways but it does seem it's hard to remove himself from the past.

Emmett

Emmett's a very easy going guy who's lighthearted and gets along with just about everyone. He's great at easing tension, doesn't take things too seriously, and is able to talk down both Rosalie and Edward throughout the series.

Now, that's a kind of unflappable personality that's not really prone to change, which puts him here on our list, but that's not what I'd really call set in his ways.

Emmett gladly adopts new technology, doesn't seem hung up on anything about his human life whatsoever, and while I don't imagine his personality changing much it really doesn't have to.

I think Emmett's a very adaptable person (as shown by his taking a vampire wife who saved him from a bear in the first place).

The only thing that's a bit strange is his bear vendetta but you do you, Emmett.

Carlisle

In some ways, Carlisle deserves the top spot on this list, as he's the most stubborn man alive. He'll happily die before giving up this diet, even if his eyes turn funny colors, he'll train himself to be a doctor, he remains a devout Christian even when a demon, and he does what he wants.

However, he's also kind of the definition of change.

This 16th century Anglican priest became a demon, then decided to make being a demon suit him, traveled the world to find people like him, then becomes a doctor and attends university because he can, and adapts to each new work environment and his ever expanding family of vampires and nonsense thrown his way.

Carlisle is anything but set in his ways for all that he's very very stubborn about his ideals.

Renesmee

We don't see much of her but Renesmee has no real ways to be set into. She lives in a bizarre glass bubble (in which a war almost happens three months after she's born), she herself is constantly changing physically every second, and it's hard to imagine her ever getting herself into a rut because like it or not things are going to happen as she gets older.

This puts her at the least set in her ways.

[danieyells]

If you could, could you post Alan’s lines? I like him but he’s so stone cold at low affinity it’s hard to sus out his personality

SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG ANON AND @otomelover23 so many things got in the way. . .mostly myself lol. . . .

Honestly that stone coldness is a big part of his personality. He's not great at expressing himself and he's very to the point. But as his affinity goes up, he's more. . .concerned for you. And he wants you around more, trusting himself to have you around more.

I posted all of them again this time! A lot of his have similar energy because of his stiffness, so I feel like being able to see them all helps to idk see the gradual change i think.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Get your things. We're going."

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Some letters here for you."

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"...What do you want?"

"Don't get involved with me."

"I'm going out. You guys get back to work."

"Get back. It's dangerous."

"Slack off once, and you'll find out how hard it is to get back in the game."

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Oh, you're awake."

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I don't eat in the cafeteria. Portions aren't big enough. That's the only reason."

don't feel awkward in there or like people find you too intimidating to be near or anything? aren't worried about seeing Dante? if you say so.

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"My wallet? Yeah, it's pretty beat up. Can't bring myself to chuck it though. Got some good memories with it."

reminds me of my brother, who kept our dad's old wallet. It's basically in tatters, held together by rubber bands, but sometimes what you have is what you have. . . .

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I'm going to the Pit. You should go back to your house, {PC}."

he doesn't want you to see him punch a man into oblivion.

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"That sounds like a bike engine, but it's not one I know. ...Be right back."

INTRUDER ALERT INTRUDER ALERT INTRUDER ALERT much like Tohma he's probably pretty security conscious. Maybe he's more security conscious because Tohma isn't around. Or maybe he's not used to how Bonnie sounds yet.

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Was that class really revision...? I didn't think I missed that many..."

my boy is not book smart, he is fist smart and maybe street smart. please study with him. he needs flash cards. pretty sure the only reason he's passed any grade is because he goes on plenty of missions.

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Lunch? Huh. I forgot to eat. Guess I'll just grill some meat and have it with rice and miso soup. That's my go-to."

y'know what i'm glad someone here eats proper meals. even if you forget at least you're eating eventually!!!

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"One of the Vagastrom guys asked me to add him on WickChat... Do you know how to do that?"

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I don't want to get anyone mixed up in my life."

He looks sad when he says this. . .he's really worried about how being close to him will affect others huh.

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Better sleep. Got an early day tomorrow."

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"497... 498... 499... 500... Phew..."

don't mind pc they're just gonna watch you do 500 sit-ups/push-ups/pull-ups/whatever. . .no no they don't mind the sweat at all please continue--

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Bandana seems to disappear right around this time every day lately... What's he doing?"

Pretty sure Sho would be busy with the food truck around thhis time of day. . .does Alan not know Sho runs a business lmao. . .I mean I guess Alan doesn't go into the more populous parts of Darkwick much.

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"The first-years've each got their own strengths. Both can do stuff I can't."

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"Bandana's got potential. He's quick, and he's strong. Rest comes down to motivation."

I think Sho's motivated, just motivated to do his own thing. Although I'm sure he'll develop more interest in the world and actions of the Institute and anomalies eventually. . .maybe. Or maybe Hyde's interest will keep him away lol.

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"I'm heading out. Mission. Make sure you go to class. ...I'll let you know when I'm back."

alright mom i'll go to class gosh. does this feel like a headpat or forehead kiss line to anyone else? he just doesn't want you to worry about him. He knows he's doing something dangerous. But he promises he'll come home. He won't be reckless because you're waiting. Maybe I'm reading too much into it lol.

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Where am I...? Guess I should tell them I'm gonna be late. WickChat was this picture, wasn't it...?"

poor boy is so lost lmao please help him get where he needs to go. . .how does this man go on hikes in the mountains and shit. . . .

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"You're still awake? Don't stay up too late."

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Oh, didn't see you there. I'm heading out for a run, but... Could you wait here for me?"

He wants to spend time with you, so please be waiting when he comes back. . . .

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"I pat people on the head a lot? Didn't notice. I'm doing it again? ...Sorry."

IT'S HARD NOT TO WHEN PEOPLE ARE SO MUCH SHORTER THAN YOU also that wasn't a complaint please give them lots of pats :'3

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"I'm taking some of the Vagastrom guys to the mountains today. ...You want to come too?"

CAMPING TRIP WITH DA BOIS!!!!!

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"This one's all fixed up. I'm gonna take a shower. Wait there."

there like in the shower or--(he uses そこ which refers to someplace near the listener, so he just means 'where you're sitting' but still.)

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"{PC}. Got time after this? A friend of mine gave me some fresh boar meat."

He wants to cook for you! He cooks in a very wilderness style, but still! He wants to share his bounty! He's showing you he can be a good provider. No, he didn't hunt it himself but good community connections are also important!

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"You're you, not someone else. You're doing a good job. Hold your head high."

he doesn't want you to fall into a cycle of self-loathing or of trying to be anyone but yourself. Maybe what others do feels more impressive to you, but you aren't them and you can't compare yourself to them. Even if you're 'weak' in one way or another, you have your own worth in other ways. So be proud of yourself, instead of trying to get the pride of somebody else. I think he really cares about your mental wellbeing and he doesn't want you to lose yourself. Because he's lost himself--and he doesn't want that for you. Don't wallow in self-pity, don't agonize over the past. Be proud of how far you've come and walk your own path.

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Can't sleep? ...I'll take you for a drive. Quick run should help you reset."

Imagine falling asleep in his car and he has to figure out. . .does he wake you up, does he carry you somewhere. . .he could bring you back to your place but he doesn't know how to get there so. . .you wake up in his room, in his bed. . .does he have the understanding that "you probably shouldn't sleep in the same bed as somebody without them okaying it first" and he sets up his tent and sleeps in it or uses his sleeping bag or sleeps somewhere else in the dorm or maybe in his car. . .frankly even if he doesn't he'd be afraid of hurting you in his sleep. There's no way he'd sleep in the same bed as you. Maybe lie awake in there with you or something. But he'd be too scared of what harm he could cause to fall asleep.

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"I'm lucky I've got you, {PC}. As long as you're with me, I feel like I won't lose sight of who I am."

HE SMILES WHEN HE SAYS THIS. 99% of his lines have his usual expression, but this one he really smiles and that's how you know how much he appreciates you. I feel like he kind of gave up on himself--he's a big, dangerous brute, he's not someone worth getting close to, it's dangerous to even want to. . .but you make him feel like maybe he has a chance again. You make him look in the mirror and see someone he hasn't seen in a long time, and he realizes that person is himself and he would have never seen the version of him who isn't dirtied with blood again without you.

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"Don't get lax just 'cause it's warm out. Stay focused."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"... Good camping weather."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Oh, it's you. Must've dozed off. Better get back to work."

BABY IF YOU NEED A NAP JUST TAKE A NAP. . . .

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The cherry blossom illuminations? ...That kind of thing's not for me."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"It's getting hot out. Make sure you stay hydrated."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Looks like we've got another mission order. There's more anomalies out there in summer."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The Pit's getting noisy. Those guys better not be pulling stupid shit again..."

LET LEO PLAY MUSIC IN THE PIT HE MISSES GOING TO THE CLUB.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you again... I was just going for a jog. Didn't think you'd be round this corner."

Alan turning a corner and slamming straight into you and being shocked aw--

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Good season for a workout. Want to join me?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"...Maybe I'll go check out the fall leaves."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The days are getting shorter. You should get home before it gets dark."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"...Long nights make me think about stuff I'd rather forget."

he killed dante in the autumn or winter. noted.

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"Cold out in the mornings lately. Guess I'll warm up with a coffee."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"The first-years ditched... What do they mean, "too cold"?"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"As long as you got some muscle, you can handle the cold."

i handle the cold well because i'm fat, myself. my brother, who's plenty muscular, gets cold much easier than i do U:

(between 8pm and 5am)

"It's freezing... Guess I'll break out the kerosene heater. Gotta make sure you ventilate if you use it indoors, but it works real fast. Can't do without it in winter."

His birthday: (April 25th)

"Whose birthday? ...Mine? Oh... Forgot all about it. ...Thanks."

Your birthday:

"Today's your birthday, yeah? ... Get your stuff. I'll take you for a drive."

New Years: (January 1st)

"You helped us out a lot last year. Hope you'll stick around."

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"This chocolate's for me? Do everything proper, don't you? Thanks. I appreciate it."

HE SMILED AGAIN. I wonder if he's ever been given valentine's chocolate before. Even if he thinks it's just out of obligation, I think he must be really happy. . . .

White Day: (March 13th)

"White Day's when you repay people for what they got you on Valentine's Day, right? Sorry if these aren't your thing... Didn't really know what you like..."

. . .my first thought was that i read that sometimes lingerie is given as a white day return present. . .and i just imagined that Alan asked what he was supposed to do if he liked the person he got a valentine's day gift from on valentine's and Leo saw an opportunity for chaos and said to get them some sexy white underwear and Alan just. . .believed him. And it's a very embarrassing moment for everyone involved. pc absolutely wears them when alan asks them out for things tho. waiting for the day alan finds out they're wearing it.

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"I'm actually a dog. Woof. ...Sorry, that was a lie. Forget I said anything."

he's a little confused but he's got the spirit.

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Saw an anomaly I'd never seen before just now. Ran away when I tried to stop it. That's when I realized it was a human."

i would not be surprised if his upbringing was sheltered and he just did not know about halloween to begin with haha

Christmas: (December 25th)

"...You should spend Christmas with family."

Well everyone's stuck at Darkwick so that's not likely to happen. Also don't tell that to Sho. . .but we can be family now! And spend Christmas together!

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"...You okay?"

(13 affinity and above)

"...You seem busy. Let me know if you need anything."

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"...You came back. You look all right. We're gonna need you for the next mission."

SO YOU SEE HE'S A LOT KINDER AND SWEETER WHEN HIS AFFINITY GETS UP THERE. . .BUT HE'S STILL COLD. BECAUSE HE'S AFRAID. . .but you make him feel more comfortable. You help him feel less like a destructive monster and more like a person. Where he pushed you away before, he keeps you closer now. Still a little at arm's distance but much closer than before. I HOPE THIS HELPED YOU SEE MORE OF HIS PERSONALITY, ANON o/

[yandere-paramour]

Vivien's Morning Routine

If he has to be at work at 9, Vivien's first alarm goes off at 6:30, and it is promptly turned off and ignored.

The next alarm goes off at 6:40, then 6:50, 7:00, 7:15, 7:30, and 7:45. Each successive alarm wakes him up a little more, so by 7:45 he is now 80% awake, enough to get out of bed, even if he does lay around and scroll on his phone for a while.

Each of the alarms is a different bopping song. He specifically only picks songs that are loud and catchy, as quiet, soulful, deep songs will just blend into his dreams instead of waking him up.

Usually he loves listening to these songs, but hearing them waking him out of the gentle caress of sleep is not fun. He changes them every few months to prevent him from permanently hating the song.

Before even getting out of bed, Vivien will send Darling a good morning text and ask how they slept. He eagerly awaits their reply and keeps his phone nearby the entire day, his face lighting up at every phone chime.

He usually sleeps naked or in just his underwear, and the first thing he does after rolling out of bed is head to the bathroom to splash some cool water on his face. Obviously, he doesn't make his bed; he hasn't done that since he was a kid in the foster home.

If it's been a good, productive week, he has meal-prepped his breakfast like cutting up peppers and spices to put in his eggs or baking a batch of muffins to eat during the week.

Unfortunately, it usually isn't a productive week. He'll either buy some baked goods readymade from the store or just make something quick like toast, instant oatmeal, or frozen waffles. They're quick and easy and don't require too much thought so early in the morning from a sleepy guy.

After eating, it is usually 8:30 or so, and he needs to hurry and get ready. He gets a pair of jeans and a work shirt from Laundry Chair and throws them on. He does not care that they are wrinkly; he only cares that they're clean.

He brushes his teeth and runs a brush through his hair. After throwing his shoes and jacket on, he's pretty much ready to go.

He will never admit to this, but he finger-guns himself in the mirror to hype himself up before work. It's kind of cute.

One thing Vivien does not ever forget the night before is to pack his lunch. He loves his sleep, and he knows himself well enough to know that he won't put in the work in the morning. Lunch is usually leftovers from dinner the night before, some fresh fruit, raw vegetables, granola bars, yogurt and honey, and some sort of cracker like goldfish or Cheez-Its. If he's baked recently, he'll throw in something like a cookie or a brownie. He tries to bring a lot of snacks as he has to sustain himself until around 5:00pm.

This isn't obvious, and he's not telling anyone, but there is a secret pocket underneath the main compartment of his lunchbox. That's where he keeps some of his supplies. A bottle or two of pepper spray, an automatic knife, a pocket taser, even some of his sedative herb syrup. The bigger, more obvious stuff is left neatly hidden in his car; this stuff is only if he must protect himself in the immediate. Just in case he needs them.

After filling up his 64oz (half a gallon) water bottle, he grabs his keys off the hook, heads down the stairs, and gets in his car. The garden store is only 8 minutes away, and if he is on time, he will arrive at work at exactly 8:52. He unlocks the shop, flips the sign, and performs a cursory examination of the shop (even though he was there like 16 hours ago and nothing has changed). He puts his lunch in the fridge, and work begins.

He's ready for another day of hanging with the plants!

[tobiasdrake]

Could you tell us something underrated about Bulma? For being around since literally the very beginning, I find she’s not talked about as much.

Bulma is the scariest person in the Dragon Ball universe. The anime softens a lot of her edges. And, like, she's not a total monster; She cares about things like people not being killed by genocidal assholes too.

But she is such an asshole and I love it. Bulma is the character I relate to most in Dragon Ball.

(Also she has an unshakable faith in Goku and he'll always be the number one martial artist in her eyes, and any man that wants to be with her needs to respect that.)

For starters, it's worth noting that the naming convention of Bulma's family is called out as weird even in-universe. Nobody bats an eye at characters being named after fruit or vegetables or rice or the Dairy Special Forces but they draw the line at underwear.

That's weird, Bulma. Your name is weird. Your father Briefs is weird. Your sister Tights is weird. Your son Trunks is weird. Your daughter Bra is weird. Why is your family like this?

Nearly every single person in the cast is someone who Goku initially had to fight in some way or another. Bulma is no exception, though their battle took place as early as issue #1.

When shooting a 12-year-old in the face with a gun failed, Bulma resorted to manipulation and subterfuge, and thus the most important relationship in the entire Dragon Ball universe was born.

Though Goku would not be the only person whose arm Bulma twisted, as this initial journey also sees her enslave a sentient being to do her bidding.

Despite ironically filling the role of a Buddhist monk in the original Journey to the West, this opening arc lays a lot of groundwork for who Bulma is. She tricks Goku and enslaves Oolong to coerce assistance in her quest to conjure up a magically-generated boyfriend (or infinite strawberries).

...then again, Tang Sanzang imprisoned Sun Wukong in the original so maybe Bulma's a better adaptation than I gave her credit for.

Point is, Bulma's a fireball. Even Goku sees it.

In the first arc, we also see her get accustomed to calling on Goku like he's her Pokemon.

Bulma is not a martial artist. She knows next to nothing about the implicate complexities of the art. Though she does enjoy being on the outer fringe of it and watching from a distance.

Well. Not from that much distance, because she always has the best seats in the house. Courtesy of inappropriate violence with firearms.

Not only is Bulma complicit in this - they clearly discussed it in advance, based on Oolong's remark and Bulma's knowing smile - but in the 23rd she actively makes it happen.

Sitting in the nosebleeds is for peasants; Bulma is a princess.

I should probably note that after Lunch moves on and leaves the group, Bulma doesn't lose access to violent backup. She just trades Lunch out for Chi-Chi.

The Battle of the Soccer Moms is the best part of the 25th's Junior Division. There's only room for one Alpha Bitch in these audience stands.

Notably, it doesn't take long for her relationship with Goku to grow into a genuine friendship. Following this first arc, Bulma goes out of her way to hang out with Goku when she can and is always excited to see him.

Fun fact, despite the fact that Bulma's boyfriend Yamcha is actively living with them at the time, Bulma's dad ships her with Goku.

No love for Yamcha in this house. Notably, when they're six years older and it's not fucking weird, Bulma herself starts to agree.

But it's honestly best for everyone that this never became a romance. Bulma would have been even more miserable with Goku than she was with Yamcha, and having them hook up would deprive us of one of the greatest platonic male/female friendships in anime.

I'm not saying Vegeta is a replacement goldfish for Goku who got married and became unavailable this same day.

...but I'm not not saying that.

So far as martial arts go, her practical knowledge of the art is simple: Goku is a) invulnerable and b) infinity powerful, and that's all she needs to know. Nobody matches Goku. Ever.

You might think that this unyielding confidence in Goku as the Supreme Warrior would cause some conflicts for Bulma. Her boyfriend Yamcha is one of Goku's rivals, and has his eye on the Tenkaichi Budokai medal.

You'd be wrong. Bulma knows exactly who she's rooting for.

It's Goku. It's always been Goku. It's always going to be Goku. Bulma watches Yamcha and Krillin gush over how well they plan to do in the tournament and her takeaway is "LOL Goku's going to school both of you clowns."

This attitude makes it really funny to imagine what her relationship with Vegeta must be like, I gotta say. That Goku will always be #1 in Bulma's eyes can't be doing good things for Vegeta's insecurity.

But I digress.

Bulma is an exceptional scientist who comes from an exceptional scientific background. She's from one of if not the richest families in the world courtesy of her father inventing revolutionary shrinking technology that changed the entire nature of how products are transported.

You can put anything in a Capsule Corp. hoi-poi capsule. Throughout the series, we see not just vehicles stored in these capsules, but portable homes, weapons, and her father's pornography collection.

For her part, Bulma's a chip off the old block. I've spoken at length in the past about Bulma's invention of the Dragon Radar, trivializing what was meant to be a holy quest of virtue and turning the miracle dragon Shenron into her own personal plastic surgery vendor. She was 15 years old when she made that.

One year later, she extrapolated her father's shrinking technology into a portable device that safely applies its principles to people.

But both of those devices pale in comparison to the greatest invention of her life.

No, not the kid. Though he's cool too.

In a sense, despite being out-of-focus for most of it, the entire Cell Arc is Bulma's masterpiece. It's a proxy war between two mad scientists over the fate of the Earth. Seeking to kill Son Goku and avenge the Red Ribbon Army, Dr. Gero destroyed the world with his Androids.

Bulma took exception to that. And by "took exception", I mean she bent the time-space continuum over her knee and spanked it.

Trunks's journey through time is the culmination, both of Bulma's impossible super-genius and of her unyielding faith that Goku is the answer to any problem that needs to be solved with violence.

Dr. Gero's master stroke was to flood the world with murderous Androids. Bulma's response was to load a bullet named Goku into a gun named Trunks and fire it through time to put it between his eyes. Everything that transpired from there was the consequence of their two plans colliding.

The happier future we get to know in the Buu Saga is the world that Bulma made happen. Because the woman who would make a personal assistant out of our Great Green God's greatest miracle had the audacity and the irreverence to violate causality itself.

[yooglefics]

Intentions don’t mean much.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!partner Wordcount: 670 words Genre: Angst. Hurt / comfort. Established relationship. Song drabble. Summary: Yoongi is having some bad days and, in the end, deciding to keep it to himself to not worry his partner is not the best idea. More info under read more.

Includes: Mentions of bad mental health, implied depression. Nothing too dark but Yoongi overthinks a lot. Lack of communication. Author's note: A little drabble inspired by The Craving ( Jenna's version ) because I just had to write something after listening to it. Is pretty short but I kind of like it as is, because it can be read with the song in the background uwu. Hope you like it! If you do please remember to leave a reblog, like, follow, comment or send an ask, donate on ko-fi and what not. As always, thank you for reading <3

He is scared of putting too much weight on her shoulders, of driving her crazy because of his thoughts, and fears; the problems in his head, the ones that don't even have anything to do with her.

On bad days he tries to be reassuring. Holding her hand while sharing a cup of coffee and cuddling with her on the couch. Yes, it’s a bit selfish because it does good to him too, knowing she is with him even when his psyche reminds him of the possibility that they, too, are part of something temporary. That it could end sooner than expected, which is not much to say since he doesn't want it to end at all.

Is not that he doesn't believe she loves him, of course not. He believes everything she says, even the little conspiracy theories she rambles about at night in their bedroom. But, his brain tells him, life is unpredictable and the world goes around and around and around and…

When it gets too bad he spends most hours of the day in his studio. Even sleeps (or at least tries to) there. She brings him lunch and he kisses her cheek or forehead, sweetly and full of love. An attempt to not worry her.

Some nights, as he lays on the leather couch, he hopes she will knock on the door, looking for him and asking him to come to bed. He would say yes, even if that meant just playing with her hair as she fell asleep on his chest while he lays with his eyes open and his mind never shooting down.

But it doesn’t happen. 

Is still dark outside when he hears her socket steps against the wooden floors, the beeps and trumps of the coffee machine following close behind, and he decides to join. 

“Isn't it too early for coffee?” he asks, leaning in the doorway.

“Is six, just one hour early.”

“Oh.” 

“How did you sleep?”

He keeps quiet, a bit confused with himself as to how he didn't realize so much time passed.

“Did you sleep?” She asks instead, tone different this time and he doesn't like something in it.

“Don't worry about it.” He tries to dismiss, coming closer and wrapping his arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder while they wait for the melancholy sounds announcing their beverage is ready.

But a sniff comes instead.

It takes a second for his tired brain to register it, yet is quick to react when she tries to move away, hugging her firmly against his chest. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Is silly.” she murmurs back.

“Tell me anyway?”

“Is just… after so long, I don’t know a lot about you still. And I wish I did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry about it. I don’t know what just—” 

“Hey,” he softly calls out, turning her around as he looks for her gaze, “don’t apologize for it. Is on me, I’m going through some shit but I’m okay.”

She worries her lip between her teeth before asking, “Have you slept at all in the last few days?”

“A little bit.” Pretty vague, not wanting to bring concern around his insomia. But her eyes get glossy again and his open in surprise. In realization that doing that is what is upsetting her. He hates that. “I slept a couple hours yesterday after lunch, maybe that’s why I’m still awake.”

“You aren't tired then?”

A different kind, he thinks. And considers answering that while she fixes his hair, but he still isn't sure. “Maybe you just need to do that for a while so I don't wake up until tomorrow.”

That makes her smile and her eyes fall to his again. But is hard to ignore the bags under them and the bigger issues. “I'm going to the store later, I'll bring you that tea we saw the other day. We can drink that before going to bed and see if it helps. Deal?”

“Deal.”

♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @sexytholland , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @itsmina29 , @nariee02 , @ktownshizzle .

➪ Masterlist | ➪ Pinned | ➪ Ko-fi | ➪ tell me what you think! ♡ Tag list. | ➪ General updates | ➪ Requests

[the-bofurin-digest]

Haruka Sakura Casual Headcanons

Casual headcanons

~ Irrational fear of dolls, clowns, and birds (seagulls) ~ believed a sock of dry rice heated up in the microwave for two minutes can heal any injury and cure any illness ~ Lowkey an ice cream lover. Like a basic vanilla/chocolate swirl soft serve, goes toward berry flavors when it's hand dipped ice cream, would KILL to have a banana split every day of his life ~ likes ice when it's the “fancy” ice (not cubed, chipped ice) in his drinks. Easier to chomp on when he's anxious too ~ listens to a Japanese 80s city pop playlist as he's getting ready in the morning.  ~ strict on oral hygiene. Can't go to sleep until he's thoroughly flossed, brushed, and rinsed.  ~ makes his hair messy on purpose. Thinks it makes him look intimidating or cool. ~ Loves autumn rainy days. Likes the smell of the damp leaves and how quiet and still everything is, especially in the early morning. ~ black and white sci fi movies are some of his favorite things to watch. He thinks the alien costumes are funny. ~ I feel like he would secretly be interested in something like snowboarding. Something he is willing to try if ever given the chance.

Dating Headcanons

~ The two of you would meet in the most CHEESY way possible. Picture this: It's a rainy evening and Sakura just missed the bus, and the next one doesn't run for the next hour. So there he is, sitting alone and grumpy in the rain, when all of a sudden he hears a small voice speak up behind him as he finds himself suddenly sharing an umbrella with you. ~ Naturally, he becomes flustered and yells about sneaking up on a stranger like that, but instead of being scared or taken aback, he becomes confused when you laugh and tell him "oh, you would rather be soaked to the bone then? Okay!" He will grumble about not meaning that, shove his hands in his pockets, and try and decide to either stand there awkwardly in silence for the next hour or suffer and make small talk ~Best hour of his life. ~ Love Language when receiving love: Acts of service. When you do something for him, like match his socks on laundry day or pack him a lunch, it makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Even though he communicates that in a bit of a brash way, he really appreciates all the things you do for him like that ~ Love Language when giving love: Quality time. When he goes out of his way to spend time with you or see you, that's when you know things are real with him. Also, acts of service. He wants to return the favors you do for him, even if it's something he is reluctant to do. ~ Not really big into actual dates or planning them. His favorite way to spend time with you is by doing small, domestic things. Weekly laundry and binge watching some stupid show together while you fold and talk (talk as in you tease him the whole time and he snaps at you while flustered to no end.) ~ As much of a walnut as he can be I feel like with a partner once he becomes truly comfortable and opens up, I think Sakura would make a wonderful and dedicated boyfriend. He may be harsh around the edges but he is constantly showing you his love and loyalty and once that confidence is there for him the two of you can have something truly special.