#and his artwork in the menu?????????

[bengallemon]

oh my god the details in the text

[batcastlesociety]

simon belmont goes to his local mcdonald's (interaction based on literally every time i have to order anything from a restaurant)

please ignore my crooked handwriting,,, (Q_Q) text translations under the cut!

Simon: "Oh... oh sheesh..."

2. McDonald's Employee: "It's okay, sir! Take your time!"

3. (Simon wound up only purchasing some chicken nuggets.)

4. "10 Chicken McNuggets! FOOD GET!"

Simon: "terrifying..."

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Life Lessons || CL16

Summary: After an embarrassing secret is shared Charles accepts some help to learn a few things about female pleasure.

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fem rec oral, sex ed

WC: 2.9k

Charles - The Lazy Lover - Leclerc. That was what the wag gossip pages all shared in their stories and Charles’ cheeks grew red with embarrassment as he read the latest caption. The supposed ‘inside source’ had recounted the disappointment his past girlfriends had found in Charles’ bedroom activities. They cited him as ‘vanilla’ and ‘a missionary man’, but none of those hurt more than the sentence that described his oral capabilities as ‘nonexistent’.

He didn’t think he was bad in bed, and he wouldn’t have called himself selfish, but he couldn’t help asking some of his exes for the truth. Each of them denied sharing the information to the gossip pages, but they all replied with the same consensus.

Charles chased his own pleasure and they didn’t feel comfortable telling him what they needed to reach their own high too. He felt guilty, wondering how many of the relationships would have ended differently or not ended at all if he had paid more attention - to their sex life as well as the rest. He certainly hadn’t been the most attentive in any aspect of his last relationship with Alexandra.

“Don’t laugh,” Pierre started the conversation seriously, something that immediately caused concern for Charles. “I know someone who knows someone that can help you. She’s a private tutor, of sorts.”

“Do you know how fucked I would be if news broke I went to a hooker?”

“She’s not a hooker,” Pierre assured him as he wrote an address down on a napkin and slid it across the table. “It's already taken care of, 8pm tomorrow.”

Charles looked at the address and sighed. “This is in Paris.”

“Of course, City of Love, my friend.” Pierre finished his coffee and rose from the table, pushing a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Charles mumbled, still uncertain about the whole idea of having a stranger teach him how to be a better lover. “I guess.”

Later that afternoon, Charles received an email with a rather detailed questionnaire about his experiences in the bedroom as well as a small dining and drinks menu to select from. He figured he couldn’t be any more embarrassed than he already was and took his time to honestly answer the questions.

—

Charles debated turning around at least three times as he climbed the stairs in a modern apartment building. He had caught a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower from the stairwell window and paused as the lights danced along the metal, wondering if he was in the right place. He was still in half a mind that Pierre had sent him to a brothel, but this didn’t fit the stereotype he had in his head of a Parisian whorehouse. He definitely imagined more Moulin Rouge lighting and seedy alleys.

He reached the 3rd floor and found only one door on the landing, his finger barely able to aim for the doorbell with its shaking. He didn’t know what to expect when the handle started to turn, but it certainly wasn’t a bright welcoming smile and the delicious smell of fresh baking.

“Hi, you must be Charles,” you greeted your newest client. “Come in, please.”

You could tell he was nervous as he hesitantly stepped inside and his eyes scanned your home, taking in the artwork on the walls and the candlelit table with two place settings. You tried to ease his mind with a quick introduction about who you were while you poured him a glass of wine.

“Help yourself,” you said as you took a seat and waved a hand to the fresh bread and cheeses he had selected from the menu. He took a breath and sat down opposite you, the candlelight catching the sharp jawline and angular features of his handsome face. “So, Charles, what is your goal? What do you want to get out of this?”

“I, uh, to be able to please a woman?”

“You don’t sound sure,” you teased as you watched him spread an olive tapenade over the fresh toasted bread.

“No, no, I am,” he said a little more forcefully before sighing. “I didn’t realise I was…bad…in bed, until recently.”

“Well, rest assured, we will change that. But first, tell me a bit more about yourself, there’s only so much I can learn from the questionnaire.”

—

Charles began to relax the more he shared. He knew he was protected by the NDA you had sent with the rest of the paperwork and the anonymity that came with baring his ugly truths to a stranger helped to ease the discomfort of what he was doing. He still wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing but your encouraging smile kept his words flowing, like he was finally doing something right.

He hadn’t realised how quickly time had passed until the grandfather clock in the entrance chimed the hour and he saw he had eaten his fill of the meal he chose.

His overnight bag still waited on the hall table, the list of what to bring had been ticked off and double checked. His calendar had been cleared for the weekend and his phone turned off. Everything he needed to remember could be jotted down in the small journal that sat beside his used cutlery.

“So, um, what happens next?” he asked as his eyes darted to the bedroom door.

“Whatever you feel comfortable with, Charles. Come,” you rose from the table and grabbed his bag, taking it to your bedroom as he trailed behind. His feet rushed before slowing down as he caught his own eagerness and frowned to himself. It was common. There was a blurred line between of uncertainty on whether they were here to get laid or here to learn.

You placed his bag beside the large desk that covered one wall of your room and pointed to the computer chair where he took a seat. “Every woman is different and there isn’t a universal button to make us come. But, by understanding the physiological functions and anatomy, I will teach you the tools to find the right spots to make her fall apart.”

“A-anatomy?” he stammered.

You took a step back and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor and bare your nakedness. His eyes widened and he swallowed deeply as he drank in your body. A soft breath fell from his parted lips when you climbed onto the desk and spread your legs either side of him. “I could show you a textbook, but I find this much more effective.”

His throat bobbed as he tried to keep eye contact and the act brought a little laugh from your chest, forcing him to look at your breasts bouncing with it. “You can look, in fact that is exactly what this first lesson is about. Look, Charles.”

His eyes closed but when they opened he was staring at your core, his chest inflating with his deep breath. “Do I just start?” he asked hesitantly, wetting his lips with his tongue.

“Just look for now,” you said with a smile as you reached down your body. “Everyone has erogenous zones, places that feel good when stimulated, and these can be found all over your body, men and women. Thumbs, wrists, behind the knees, inner thighs, neck. Simply kissing and sucking these spots can feel just as good as foreplay.”

“Really?” he eyes widened in surprise and his eyes scanned all the places you had mentioned.

“Really, and I want you to find mine.” You bared your throat and relaxed back on your elbows. “You’ll watch for the physical reactions to confirm it. Deep breathing, moans, eyes closing, jaw slack, forehead pinched - they are some of the outward signs of pleasure.”

“Are you okay with this?” he asked as he found your bent knee the closest point to his lips and his tentative touch warmed your skin.

“I am, and I am pleased that you asked for consent.”

He smiled proudly at the praise before he lifted your leg and kissed the back of your knee, his eyes watching your face as he dragged his tongue along the tendon and crease. Your head fell back and he grinned. “There.”

“One,” you confirmed with a nod before he moved up to your thigh, trying the same thing with a kiss and a lap of his tongue. A giggle bubbled up and you squirmed away. “That’s just ticklish.”

“So not that one?” he double checked, and you shook your head. “Okay…”

The man was thorough and he made sure to find which ones were good for you and which ones weren’t. He paid attention to the signs and more than once he paused to jot down a note in the journal you had provided.

“You’re a good student,” you praised.

“I have a good teacher.”

You smiled at the compliment. “Would you like to explore lesson two tonight or rest? We have all weekend.”

His eyes gave away his answer before his lips did and you climbed off the desk. “Let’s start with the basics then. The first thing you want to do is make yourself comfortable. Craning your neck from where you lie between her legs isn’t comfortable and won’t encourage you to stay there if things take a little longer,” you explained as you moved into the bed and tossed him a pillow. “So, pop one of these under the small of her back.”

He looked at the pillow and shuffled forward. “Now?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, lifting your hips up so he could lay it in place. “Two things happen here, one, it lifts her hips higher for better access which your neck will be thankful for, and two, it tilts her pelvis down and makes it much easier to work her g spot.”

“I thought that was a myth.”

“Why don’t you find out?” you dared. “Did you clip your nails before you came?”

He looked at the short nails and wiggled his fingers with a nod. He had followed every instruction in the email.

“Good, the last thing you want is to accidentally cut a partner with a sharp nail. Now the technique most people find effective is palm up, one or two fingers, gently work your way inside - it’s all about timing, take it slow and build to begin. Once your fingers are inside, curl your fingers up and you’ll feel the tissue is softer, almost spongy. Massaging pressure over that stimulated the g-spot, and if you are good at multitasking you can then add pressure from the outside too. Just place a hand low on her abdomen, slightly above the pelvic bone - don’t press too hard though as it will push on her bladder. First though, you’d probably want to start with warming her up with some cunilingus, eating pussy.”

Charles hopped off the bed and grabbed the journal, quickly jotting down the instructions with quiet eagerness.

“You can practice if you feel comfortable,” you invited when he put the pen and page down.

“Uh, yeah, please,” he stammered as he knelt on the bed and shuffled closer.

You reached into the bedside drawer and grabbed a bottle of lube. “I don’t need this,” you said and he smirked as he saw the other outward sign you had explained - arousal - it already lubricated your slit with the thought of what Charles was going to do to you. “But you should always keep a bottle at home. All women are different, some are drier than others no matter how aroused they get. Or, it’s handy for other areas of play like anal, or even a sensual massage.”

You put the bottle back and settled among the pillows. “Use me, explore, feel the different textures and I’ll guide you if you need it. Remember to look and listen to the signs of pleasure.”

Charles nodded and settled between your legs, getting up close and personal with your pussy. His indecision held him frozen as he wondered where to begin so you offered some guidance. “Finding the clit is a good starting point and then exploring around it to find the sensitive spots. Lick, suck, kiss, try it all.”

Encouraged, he laid a tentative kiss on your slit, his eyes rolled up to watch for your reactions. Seeing nothing, he took aim and tried again, his lip brushing over your clit and a soft sigh reached his ears. More confident, his tongue flicked out and caught your clit making you jolt.

“Was that good or bad?” he asked with a frown.

“Both, that spot is very sensitive - think of the slit at the tip of your cock. When it’s primed and ready that feels amazing but straight off the bat it is a little shocking to the system. You’re in the right area though, so keep exploring.”

This time he circled his tongue around and your moan was louder. You could practically feel his smile on your skin.

“That feels good,” you hummed as warmth spread through your body and he reached up on his own initiative, massaging your breasts. “Oh, you’re a natural now.”

Inspired, he explored further, his tongue lashing along your slit, dipping into your cunt. Your back arched off the bed with a gasp so he delved deeper, fucking you with his tongue as a familiar tightening grew in your core.

“Now would be the perfect time to try to find the g-spot,” you murmured as you fought the urge to succumb to the pleasure, but the lesson wasn’t over.

His rhythm faltered with a fresh wave of nervousness and he pulled back with shiny swollen lips to drag his fingertips through the mess he had made. The slick digits started gently, dipping inside your cunt a little deeper each time until it met the resistance of his palm.

“Feel around for the different textures and then curl your fingers a little.”

He did as instructed and his lips parted in surprise as he felt the spot. “Oh, wow, I’ve never noticed that…”

Your laugh made your pussy clench and he chuckled as your walls tightened around his fingers. “I like that feeling,” he commented with a flirty smirk.

“I thought you would,” you said with a wink. “I also do lessons on male stimulation if you’re ever interested.”

“Like…gay?” he asked quietly, a frown starting to form on his brows yet it wasn’t a look of distaste.

You were intimately aware that he still had two fingers curled in your cunt but it was good that he felt comfortable enough to hold a conversation at the same time. “It’s about learning the male anatomy, like what we did here. Whether that knowledge is used for self pleasure or with a partner, male or female, that is up to them.”

He contemplated the idea for a moment before he remembered what he was doing and began to work his wrist, curling his fingers in sync so they dragged over that delicious spot. He watched your sordid reaction with fascination before he grew bolder, his tongue finding your puffy clit.

“Oh fuck, yes,” you moaned loudly as your pussy tightened in anticipation. He had read your body perfectly and flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit but this time you were primed and ready. Your orgasm began with a tingle through your hair, leading to a fine tremor that danced down your spine, it raced down your legs and curled your toes. “Oh, Charles!”

He moaned against your clit as his wrist snapped forwards and back, the wet sounds of your body filling the room as his fingers fucked you through the explosion. Your cunt clenched and spasmed around the digits and stars spotted your vision. Your head fell back into the pillows with a cry and liquid gushed over his fingers with the release.

Disoriented and overstimulated, you reached between your legs and placed your hand over his. “Please, too much,” you whispered with a hoarse voice and rough aftershocks snapping at your thighs. “That was so fucking good, Charles. I, I just need a minute.”

You threw an arm over your head, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you waited for your heart rate to calm again. A small laugh bounced from your chest as you came down from the high and you finally had the strength to prop yourself back up on your elbows.

“That was perfect, Charles, you are a very quick learner.”

He was busy staring at his hand, your release coating his palm and running down his wrist. “So that’s what an orgasm feels like?” His brows pinched as he realised he had never felt that before.

“It’s what this one felt like. They can be different based on what areas are stimulated, the intensity, intimacy, lots of factors.” You could see he was still disappointed in himself for his previous ignorance and you sat up slowly, crossing your legs as you faced him. “Just because a woman doesn’t orgasm it doesn’t mean she didn’t enjoy the experience. Does a blow job feel good before you cum?”

He shrugged, still a little unconvinced. “Yeah.”

“See, forgive yourself and move on, now you know what to do for next time.” You carefully climbed off the bed on unsteady legs and offered your hand. “Last lesson of the night, aftercare.”

He stood up and froze, looking down at his pants. “Sorry, I kind of, uh, um…”

“Why are you sorry?” you laughed, drawing his attention away from the damp patch on his trousers. “You are meant to enjoy pleasuring your partner. Never apologise for that, Charles.”

[jaythes1mp]

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

8919 words, 46418 characters, 408 sentences, 290 paragraphs, 32.8 pages.

The car comes to a stop outside a fancy restaurant. The building is huge, the exterior lit up with soft, warm lights. A Doorman is standing outside, the entrance framed by a pair of elegant lion statues either side.

Bruce gets out first, holding out his hand to help you out of the car. His face is neutral as you step onto the sidewalk, his hand still gripping yours. He gives a short nod to the Doorman, who immediately opens the door to the restaurant without a word.

The interior of the restaurant is just as impressive as the outside. High ceilings, a grand lobby, and a row of archways leading to the dining areas. Expensive artwork hangs on the walls, the lighting soft but flattering. The interior is opulent, with glittering chandeliers and high arched ceilings. The soft buzz of conversation fills the air, mixing with the sound of silverware clinking against china.

The sound of soft classical music filled the air, mingling with low murmurs of hushed conversations. Almost immediately, as soon as Bruce steps inside, the atmosphere hushes. Every eye turns to look at him, then at you. The way everyone was watching you made you squirm. It was like everyone except you was in on some sort of secret.

Bruce leads you through the restaurant, his hand is still holding yours, his steps confident and assured. You get the sense that the staff know him well as you both pass, various people nod in greeting as Bruce murmurs a few words to them.

Finally, you reach a private booths, secluded in a corner, away from any potential interruptions.

The private booth you’re settled into has a dark, rich oak interior, with a large semi-circular leather booth wrapping around the table in the centre. The table is covered in a crisp white tablecloth, with a variety of fine china and sparkling silverware laid out.

Bruce motions for you to take a seat as he slips into the booth opposite you, his eyes still quietly taking in your features. You mumble a soft thanks in return. Feeling well underdressed.

A waiter appears beside your table, a tablet in his hand, a fake, courteous smile on his face as he addresses you both.

"Good evening, Mr Wayne. What can I get for you tonight?"

Bruce’s voice is measured as he responds, his gaze never leaving you. "Good evening. A bottle of the house red, and two glasses, please."

The waiter nods and disappears, leaving the two of you alone and enveloped in quiet. There's a strained atmosphere in the air, Bruce's eyes watching you intently as you shift awkwardly in the booth.

The atmosphere in the booth is tense, the silence between you and Bruce almost deafening. Trying to break the ice, you attempt a joke, your voice soft as you speak.

"Buffet, huh? You'd think a place this fancy would have a set menu."

Bruce quirks an eyebrow at your joke, a small smile flickering across his face. Despite the situation, he can't help but find it endearing.

He leans back in the leather booth, his broad frame taking up the majority of the space. "Well, I figured you might prefer to pick your own food.”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes still trained on you, "Unless you'd rather I pick for you."

Your chuckle is nervous and soft, a strange mix of anxiety and amusement. You feel a touch out of place, sitting in this posh restaurant, with Bruce Wayne staring across at you.

"No, no," you say quickly, "I can pick my own food. I don't want to trouble you."

The tension in the air is thicker now, the weight of expectations almost palpable. You fidgeted nervously in your seat, your eyes darting around the booth before settling back on Bruce's unwavering gaze.

You take a deep breath, your fingers fiddling anxiously with the hem of your shirt. You feel embarrassed, almost vulnerable in your ignorance. "Um, actually," you admit, "I'm not really sure what's on the menu here."

There's a hint of vulnerability in your voice, a vulnerability you'd usually try to hide in these situations. But in front of Bruce, you can feel yourself slipping, your guard lowering just an inch. He always seemed to leave that effect with you.

His expression softens as he watches you fidget nervously across from him. He notices every little detail, the way your fingers play with the hem of your shirt, the way your gaze darts around the booth before settling back on him.

Bruce's eyes soften as he hears the hint of vulnerability in your voice. It's a sound that's all too familiar to him, yet coming from you, it tugs at his heartstrings nonetheless. He leans forward, his forearms resting against the table, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Don't worry about it," he reassures you, his voice gentle, "You don’t have to pretend to have a taste for fine dining or anything. You can tell me what you want, or I can order something for you."

Bruce's words are a surprising contrast to the confident, almost arrogant persona he usually exudes. Here, in this moment, he seems... gentle, almost fragile in his own way.

He pauses for a moment before continuing, his eyes studying your face for any kind of response. "Although, I have to admit, I'm a little surprised to find you out alone at this time of night."

Your head snaps up suddenly as realisation hits you. "Oh, shit." You curse under your breath, your eyes wide with realisation.

The guilt settles in as you start to consider the possibility that you've interrupted something important. Maybe Bruce had a prior commitment, a business meeting or a social event, and you've stumbled right into the middle of it.

"I'm sorry," you say quickly, your voice filled with genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to intrude. Did I ruin your plans for tonight?"

Bruce watches you carefully as your realization sinks in, your eyes widening in guilt. He notices how your body tenses, how your fingers twist nervously in your lap.

He lets your words hang in the air for a moment before responding. "Ruin my plans? You think you're the one interrupting my night?"

His words are soft, but there's a hint of amusement in his tone. As if the thought of you interrupting his plans is almost absurd to him.

Bruce had patiently waited for nearly forty-five minutes, his evening already planned out. He had booked out the entire restaurant, reserved for just the two of you, and a select few of nobodies, with the kitchen specially rented for your taste in food. He had gone through all of this trouble, just to see you.

And now, sitting across from him, you had believed that your little run-in had ruined all of his well-laid plans.

Bruce sees the guilt and worry in your expression, your shoulders tense and brow furrowed. He can't help but feel a pang of something within his chest at your expression. Of course, you would think you ruined his plans, that you somehow inconvenienced him or got in the way of something important.

As your words hang in the air, he considers telling you the truth. That these were his plans. That spending time with you - watching you grow, listening to you breathe, hearing your voice - meant more to him than anything else that the world could ever offer.

Spending time with you, his precious one, trumped all else. He would willingly cancel any other plans, rearrange any meetings, just for the opportunity to sit across from you like this. Spending time with you trumps anything and everything else.

Tonight, however, he would feign ignorance. He would act as if you were merely a convenient disruption to his otherwise busy schedule. He didn't want you to know the extent of his dedication and devotion to you. Not yet. One day you would come to be aware of the fact. Tonight however, he’ll pretend.

Bruce's face betrays nothing as he watches the guilt and worry etched on your features. He can see it clearly, the worry and guilt in the set of your shoulders, the furrow of your brow. It hurts him to see you this way, to think that somehow, you are the one who ruined his evening plans.

As your words hang in the air, a deep, silent pang resonates within his chest. He can see the tension in your shoulders, the furrow of your brow as you chew on your lip. He notices every little change in your expression, and it makes his heart ache a little bit. He wants to tell you. He wants to reassure you. To tell you that you didn't ruin anything, that you were the plan.

Finally, he lets out a soft sigh, his voice breaking the silence. "You didn't ruin anything," he says, his voice low and reassuring. "I'm not too bothered. It's not like I had something particularly important to do tonight."

He pauses for a moment, watching as your expression changes to reflect the relief that washes over you. He can see the tension leaving your body as his words sink in.

He lets out a soft chuckle, his mouth curving into a small smile. "Besides, I'd rather spend my night out with you than anyone else."

He's treading dangerously close to revealing just how important you are to him, how much you actually mean. But he just can't keep the words from escaping. To not let you know who you really are to him. You were his child. His sweet, broken, child. One that he will soon mend back together gently. Give you everything you deserved yet never got to experience.

Your expression immediately relaxes, relief washing over your face as you take in his words. It's hard to describe the feeling that floods through you. It's a strange mixture of comfort, surprise, and reassurance.

His soft chuckle and smile bring a warmth to your chest that only he can manage to ignite.

As he says he'd rather spend the night with you than anyone else, your breath catches in your throat.

You can feel the danger in his words, his care and devotion carefully concealed behind a thinly veiled facade. There's a raw honesty to his tone that makes you shiver.

The meaning behind his words hitting you like a wave. This man, this powerful, wealthy, influential man, would rather spend his time with you.

You have to bite your lip to conceal the small smile. No one has said they’d rather spend their time with you. Definitely not that woman. It so unexpected and makes you feel all warm and fuzzy.

The way your expression relaxes, the surprise and relief etched on your features, makes his chest tighten a little bit. It's a feeling he's never experienced before. You're reacting in a way that is completely foreign to him. Completely new. Something he's never really gotten to experience.

Bruce notices that you're biting back a smile, and a wave of satisfaction courses through him. He's able to elicit such an unexpected, genuine reaction from you. One he's sure you don't give to just anyone. It's a feeling of pride.

He’ll have to message Tim to send him the cameras footage of that moment later.

The waiter suddenly reappears at the table, a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands.

Bruce's attention momentarily diverts as he nods his thanks to the waiter, taking the bottle and the pair of glasses.

He gives the waiter a dismissive gesture, indicating that he can take his leave. The waiter murmurs a soft, "Please enjoy your evening, Mr Wayne," before he exits the booth once more.

He pops the cork from the wine with ease, his hands almost like a practiced expert.

He then pours a generous amount into both glasses, the liquid a dark, rich color as it sloshes against the glass.

He hands you one of the glasses, his fingers brushing against yours for just a moment as his eyes meet yours.

"Take a sip," he says, his voice surprisingly gentle.

“Oh. I’m not the biggest wine drin...” the words die on your tongue by the encouraging grin on his lips. You look down to the rich red liquid, swirling the glass for a second before closing your eyes and drowning down a small sip.

It... wasn’t bad.

He watches as you hesitate, the words dying on your tongue, before taking a small sip of the wine. He can see the surprise flicker in your eyes as you taste the liquid. There's a hint of doubt on your face, as if you're expecting it to taste awful.

When you don't wince or make a facial expression, he lets out a soft chuckle. A satisfied sound that's low and gravelly.

"See? I don't have that bad taste in wine, do I?"

You manage to make a small sound of agreement, despite the heat of embarrassment that creeps up your face.

His chuckle, low and gravelly, sends a shiver down your spine. It's a sound that never fails to make you feel both calm and a bit flustered.

You take another, slightly larger sip of wine this time, the liquid warm as it slides down your throat, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake.

He observes as you swallow the wine, his eyes never leaving your face. He can see the slight flush to your cheeks, the way your body reacts to the warm liquid in your system. There's a small spark of triumph in his eyes.

He takes a sip of his own glass, his gaze still fixed on you.

"You're not a frequent drinker, right?" he asks, his tone casual. He already knows the answer.

You shake your head, the heat still present on your cheeks. You take another small sip of the wine, almost in an effort to cool down.

"No, I'm not," you admit, your voice a touch more shy than you wanted it to be, "I don't really drink that much. Bad experiences in the past.”

It was the truth. You didn't drink often, and you certainly didn't want to accidentally embarrass yourself in front of Bruce Wayne of all people. And the men that woman used to bring home left a sour view on alcohol for you.

His eyes soften a bit at your admission, a look of quiet understanding passing over his features. He lets the silence hang for a moment before responding.

"I see," he says. There's an undertone in his voice, almost a hint of anger at the implications of your past.

But he doesn't press the subject any further. He has his suspicions, but he won't ask you to dig up painful memories. At least, not here. Not now. Maybe someday. Maybe someday he'll get you to open up to him fully.

As the quiet stretches between you two, you take another sip of the wine, letting the warmth of the liquid soothe your nerves.

You can feel his eyes watching you, his gaze steady and intense, even as he tries to soften his features. It feels both terrifying and reassuring at the same time. Terrifying, because you feel so seen under his gaze. And reassuring, because you trust that he's being sincere.

The wine is starting to take effect now, your head feeling a bit fuzzy, your inhibitions slightly lowered.

The change in topic is abrupt, but it allows you a moment to compose yourself.

Bruce's voice breaks the silence, his fingers absentmindedly rolling the stem of his wine glass between them as he addresses you. "Have you had enough time to think over what you're craving?" he inquires, his eyes fixed on your face, observing your expression. His gaze soft.

Your thoughts are slightly fuzzy now, the wine having settled in your stomach, making it easier for you to express yourself.

You think for a moment, your mind swirling as you try to think of something to eat. Your first instinct is to tell him it doesn't matter, that you can eat anything. But the look on his face, the way he's studying you, tells you that he won't accept that answer.

So you say the first thing that comes to your mind.

"Nuggets," you murmur.

Humiliation washes over you, the realization of your faux pas sinking in. You cringe inwardly, mentally kicking yourself for even entertaining the idea that there might be something like a children's menu in a high-class establishment like this one. There's practically a "no minors allowed" sign plastered over the door. You can almost hear the staff snickering behind your back.

You want to bang your head against the table, sink into the leather seats and disappear.

He can't help but raise an eyebrow at your response. Nuggets.

He almost wants to laugh, the sound bubbling up in his chest. He manages to hold it back however, sensing the embarrassment that's painted on your face. There's a certain... charm to your honest, albeit slightly tipsy response.

But he finds the suggestion endearing, the image of you with a plate of nuggets amusing. It's such a simple request, a request that so many people would immediately dismiss. But the fact that you had suggested it, had actually thought there was a possibility of this place offering such a thing, somehow makes his chest feel lighter.

Your ears burn with embarrassment, and your eyes fall to the table, avoiding his gaze. You half expect him to roll his eyes, to make some comment about how childish your choice is.

But instead, you notice a flicker of something in his eyes before he speaks. It's a mixture of surprise, and something akin to amusement.

He holds back a laugh, the sound coming out as a low rumble in his chest. When he speaks, there's a hint of a smile on his face. "Nuggets, huh?"

The heat on your face increases at his words, your cheeks flushed with a mixture of the wine and the embarrassment. Your hands fidget nervously in your lap, fingers twisting and untwisting, looking for something to do.

You can't believe you just admitted that. That you actually suggested you order nuggets in a fancy establishment like this one. God, this is so pathetic.

You open your mouth to try to amend your statement, trying to salvage the already ruined evening, but no words come out.

He notices your flustered state, the way your face is flushed and your hands nervously fidgeting in your lap. It's an endearing sight, and he feels a pang in his chest, a mixture of protectiveness and affection. He wants to reassure you, to tell you that there's nothing wrong with wanting nuggets.

He lets out another soft chuckle, his eyes softening even more as he speaks. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with that. I can order them for you."

He’s silently thanking Dick for the list of food places you frequent.

Your face only flushes deeper, the heat practically emanating from your skin now. You hadn't expected him to actually agree to it. You were sure he'd laugh, or tell you to pick something more suitable for your surroundings.

You hazard a glance up at him, meeting his gaze, and are met with a soft, earnest look in his eyes. He's not mocking you. He's not looking down on you.

The realisation sends a wave of relief through you, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. "You would? Really?"

Jason would have made fun of you for how you sounded.

"Of course," he responds immediately, his tone completely genuine.

He motions to the waiter, who's standing at a discrete distance, waiting to be summoned. It takes only a moment for the waiter to hurry over to the table, his expression schooled into perfect professionalism.

Bruce addresses the waiter bluntly. "Nuggets," he states, his eyes flicking back to you, silently asking you to confirm.

When you avoid the waiters eye contact Bruce lets out a small chuckle, quickly hidden into his palm as if he’d coughed. “And one medium rare steak with mixed vegetables.”

The waiter nods, his expression remaining neutral, though you can see a hint of bemusement in his eyes. To hear Bruce Wayne, billionaire and Gotham City's biggest philanthropist, order nuggets of all things must be an unusual sight for the man.

You can't help but feel relieved that the waiter doesn't comment on the order though. The last thing you need is even more embarrassment.

Your eyes widen a bit at the addition of the steak, and you shoot Bruce a questioning glance.

Bruce catches your questioning glance, his eyes sparkling with an impish mischief. He can see the surprise and confusion in your expression, and he can’t help but smirk a bit.

"Don't worry," he assures you, his tone a touch too innocent, “the steak's for me.”

You deadpan. Seriously? That was his way of assuaging your worries? Steak for him?

As you give him a flat look, he can't help but chuckle at your unimpressed expression.

"What?" he asks, feigning innocence, "I'm hungry."

He leans back into his seat, a small, amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watches you. He can see the mixture of surprise and skepticism on your face, and he finds it almost endearing.

You roll your eyes, a small huff escaping your throat. Typical rich guy, ordering steak.

There's a comfortable silence that falls over the both of you, as you watch the waiter walk away from the table. The alcohol in your system has left you feeling a bit light-headed, and you can’t help but feel a bit more at ease. Like you can fully relax for once.

But a question burns at the back of your mind, and the alcohol makes it a bit easier to voice it.

You break the silence, your voice somewhat slurred as you speak. "Can I ask you something?" you say, your tone casual.

Bruce turns his attention fully back to you, his gaze steady and attentive. He can see the light flush on your cheeks, a result of the alcohol in your system.

"Of course," he responds, leaning forward a little bit, "ask me anything."

You pause for a moment, searching for the right words as you try to articulate your thoughts. Your mind is a muddled mess of alcohol and shyness, which makes it a bit harder than usual for you to speak. But with a bit of willpower, you manage to push the words out of your mouth.

"Why do you do what you do? Why do you want me to do it?" you ask, your voice soft.

His eyebrow raises in a silent, inquiring question, encouraging you to elaborate on your question.

Your voice cuts through the air, your words firm and a touch bewildered. "Everything," you gesture emphatically with your hand, the vague motion encompassing everything you're trying to convey. "The business. Helping people, charities. You could have anyone to do whatever you wanted."

You pause for a moment, your confusion and disbelief clear in your expression as you meet his gaze. "Why would you need to fund my random blog?"

Bruce leans back into his seat, his features taking on a contemplative look. He can sense the confusion and disbelief in your tone, and he can understand why you're asking such a question.

He takes a moment to answer, letting his words settle in your mind. When he speaks again, his voice is steady and sincere.

"It's simple really," he says, his eyes never leaving yours. "I see potential. I see someone who’s willing to try, to make a difference. I suppose I just want to give you the means to do it."

It’s a nice sentiment, but you can tell he’s holding something back.

Your eyes flick to his face, searching his expression for any hint of deception. But there’s nothing but honesty in his gaze. He truly believes in you, in your potential. The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.

You try to process his words, the weight of what he’s saying slowly sinking in.

There’s a question burning on the tip of your tongue, but you’re hesitant to ask it. It feels too personal, too vulnerable. But the alcohol in your system makes you brave, and the question slips out of your mouth before you have a chance to stop it.

"Why me?" Your voice is soft, almost inaudible.

Bruce's gaze softens at your question, his eyes studying your face intently.

"Why not you?" he replies. The words are simple, but they carry a weight to them.

He can see the vulnerability in your expression, the desire to hear a more detailed answer. But there’s a part of him that’s hesitant to fully divulge his reasons.

You lean back against the plush leather of your seat, your thoughts racing.

You're honestly not sure how to respond to that. The depth and sincerity behind his words catch you off guard, and you're momentarily at a loss for what to say.

Bruce watches the emotions play across your face, the mixture of surprise and flattery at his answer. He can tell you’re surprised, maybe even a bit wary in accepting his response. But he can also see a hint of curiosity, a hint of eagerness to know the why behind him.

He takes a subtle breath before he speaks, choosing his words carefully.

"Because I believe you have a voice worth listening to," he says quietly.

You bite your tongue, looking away in thought.

Bruce knew that his words would get to you. That he could charm his way through an explanation rather than admit the truth.

You can feel his words stirring something within you, a mixture of emotions. On one hand, it's flattering, almost dizzying, to know that someone like Bruce Wayne believes in you that much. But on the other hand, there's a nagging skepticism, an inkling that there's more to his reasons than he's letting on.

Your fingers pick at the fabric of your sleeve, a nervous habit you can never quite shake off. You glance up at him, your eyes meeting his.

"Is that really the only reason?" you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Bruce can see the skepticism in your eyes, the way your fingers pick nervously at the fabric of your clothes. He can tell you're searching for more, that you want to hear a deeper reason for his actions.

His gaze doesn’t waver, his composure not faltering even a bit.

"Why? Do you think there's another reason?" he asks, his tone as casual as ever, betraying nothing of his inner thoughts.

You shake your head, feeling slightly flustered at his response. You had hoped he'd offer up more information, give you a deeper explanation. But he's not budging, not willing to divulge more than he's letting on.

You let out a small, frustrated huff, the sound almost inaudible. You're not sure how to respond to his casual denial, his nonchalance in dismissing your question.

For a brief moment, you almost contemplate asking more direct and personal questions. But the moment passes, and the waiter returns with your food.

The waiter silently places your plate in front of you, the golden-brown nuggets sitting innocently on the white china. There's an awkward moment of silence as Bruce and yourself glance at the plate, before the waiter quietly slips away.

You stare at the heaped plate of food before you, your eyes widening at the sheer amount of food placed before you. The white china plate is practically overflowing, not a single part of it left untouched by the generous portions of food. You swallow hard, your gaze shifting to Bruce, who is calmly cutting into his own steak.

"Why is there so much...?" you can't help but ask, your voice laced with bewilderment. "Is this normal here?"

No, this isn't normal. Bruce has made arrangements to ensure you have a substantial meal, much more than usual. He’d grown worried over the small portions you’ve been making for yourself recently. Each day watching the cameras with an angered expression. So you will be eating every piece of chicken on that plate and you will be enjoying it.

He’s scolded Jason far too many times for letting you do this to yourself, it’s about time he’d taken it into his own hands.

Bruce can see the surprise written all over your face, the way your eyes widen at the sight of the food on your plate. He lets out a small, amused huff, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"They tend to be... generous with their portions here," he responds, an air of nonchalance in his tone. "Don't waste it."

He cuts another piece of his steak, taking a bite as he watches you. His gaze flicks back and forth between his own plate and yours, making sure you’re actually eating.

You swallow hard, your gaze shifting back to your plate. You're not sure how you're supposed to eat this much food, let alone even finish it. The small bites you're accustomed to taking seem pitiful in comparison to the massive amount of food before you. But you know you can't refuse, not with Bruce watching you, silently waiting for you to take a bite.

You pick up a single nugget, gingerly taking a bite. The crisp texture and flavor of the nugget fill your senses, and for a moment you momentarily forget about your worries.

Bruce watches you carefully, his gaze fixed on your every move. He takes another bite of his steak, his eyes lingering on you for a few moments longer before he speaks.

"Slow down, you'll choke," he advises, his tone jokingly admonishing.

You pause for a moment, the nugget halfway to your mouth. You shoot him a brief glare, momentarily forgetting your manners.

"No, I won't," you argue, your voice slightly muffled as you chew.

Bruce can't help but suppress a small chuckle. Your stubbornness amuses him, your irritation at his comment almost endearing.

"You will," he says, his tone firm, though there’s an amused sparkle in his eyes. "You're eating too fast. Slow down, enjoy the food."

He takes another bite of his steak, his gaze still fixed on you. It’s amusing to see you pout at him, your expression somewhere between annoyance and embarrassment.

You huff in irritation, rolling your eyes at his words. But deep down, you know he's right, his voice echoing your own internal thoughts.

You take a moment to collect yourself, forcing yourself to slow down as you take another bite. The food is good, the flavors rich and satisfying. But you can't help but grumble under your breath.

Your words are delivered with a mix of petulance and half-hearted jest. "You're not my parent, you know," you mutter, the words leaving your mouth with a hint of teasing.

It's clear you're unaware of the way his knuckles tighten around the handle of the knife until they're almost white, nor do you notice the way his jaw clenches ever so slightly at your words. You're entirely oblivious to the possessive, dark fatherly look that flashes in his eyes.

Bruce has to bite his tongue to refrain from correcting you. He was your dad. You just didn't know it yet.

Patience, he has to remind himself.

Bruce is thankful for the years of his rigid self-discipline, years of controlling his thoughts, feelings, and emotions. He’s thankful for the tight control he has over his mind, the strict control over his senses. Because in that moment, the urge to correct you, to claim you as his child is immense. It’s difficult for him to keep his words at bay.

He clears his throat, the sound more of a forced noise than anything. His voice is slightly strained as he responds to your words. Though he forces the calm, steady tone of his words to remain.

"Just eat your food.”

You're too preoccupied with the taste of the food in your mouth to notice his brief change in tone. His words break you out of your thoughts, your attention shifting to him.

You glance back down at the plate in front of you, the pile of food still standing despite your efforts to eat it.

"I’m trying," you say, a slight hint of annoyance in your tone. "But you're giving me a lot of food here."

Bruce remains silent, his gaze fixated on your plate, calculating the amount of food left.

He takes a moment to think, silently observing you. He scans the remaining food on your plate, mentally calculating how many more bites you’d have to take. He’s not satisfied in the slightest, not until he can see your plate completely empty. He needs to be sure you're going to finish all of it.

“You can do it,” he says, his words a simple, casual statement.

You groan. “dude.”

You roll your eyes at his words, your annoyance with the situation growing. The amount of food still left in front of you seems almost intimidating, especially with Bruce silently watching you.

You’re not used to eating so much, and the thought of finishing all of it makes you slightly nauseous.

“I feel like I’m being fattened up for something,” you grumble under your breath, your tone half-serious, half-joking.

Bruce leans back in his seat, a silent chuckle escaping his lips at your comment. The sound is subtle, only barely heard in the quiet restaurant.

The corners of his mouth twitch, a hint of a smirk forming.

“You ate more than this the last time we were out together, kid.” He says in return, his voice teasing.

His words are meant in playful jest, but there’s a hint of possessiveness in his tone, a hint of protectiveness, the protective fatherly instinct lingering within him.

Your eyes widen in surprise at his words, your expression quickly morphing into annoyance.

"Oh, shut up," you retort, a hint of petulance in your tone. You continue to eat, trying to ignore the smug smile on his face.

You chew on a nugget for a few moments, contemplating his words. "...You remember that?”

Bruce’s smirk widens, watching as your expression morphs to an obvious mixture of surprise, annoyance, and mild humiliation. His tone is casual, yet the amusement is obvious.

“Of course I do,” he responds simply. “I pay attention to things.”

For a normal person, what you ate over two weeks ago would be forgettable, insignificant. But Bruce Wayne isn’t a normal person, not by a long shot. He’s observant, his mind committing details to memory almost second nature to him. Anything that relates to you he makes sure to keep note of. All of his kids interest, really.

You huff in annoyance at his response.

“Oh, right. You’re a billionaire, how could I forget,” you snark back, rolling your eyes at the casual way he responded.

The fact that he’d remembered such a small, insignificant detail of your night together caught you off guard. And for a brief moment, it makes you feel… special, the idea that you’re important enough for him to remember things about you.

“What else do you remember from that night?” you ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Bruce takes a moment to respond, his gaze locked on yours. There’s an almost imperceptible smirk on his face, a hint of pride.

He remembers the entire night, every little detail. Every word that slipped from your lips, every small gesture you made. He remembers it all, committing each memory to the back of his mind. And even if you could somehow forget the colour of your coat, he’s always got the footage from that night to look over time and time again.

But he won’t tell you that, not yet. Instead, he responds with a casual yet vague answer.

“I remember a lot.”

You hum, “mysterious.”

You raise an eyebrow at his response, the vague yet casual tone of his voice. It’s an answer that gives nothing away, yet at the same time makes it clear that he remembers more than he’s letting on.

The thought of all the possible things he could remember makes something churn in your stomach. Part of you wants to pry, to ask more.

But you know better. There’s a reason Bruce Wayne is Gotham City’s most popular billionaire. The man’s secretive, that much is clear.

Your curious expression does not escape Bruce’s notice. He can see the way you’re contemplating your next question, your mind working a mile a minute.

His gaze flickers over your expression, taking in every detail. He knows you’re tempted to ask more, to pry and probe him for more information. He can read you almost as easily as he reads a book.

But he remains calm and collected, his smile never wavering.

“Finishing your food, yet?” he asks in return, his tone shifting the topic away from his memory.

Your eyes widen in surprise, darting down to the plate in front of you. Two lonely nuggets stare back at you, their former coating of sauce now reduced to a glistening sheen.

The sight of the near-empty plate triggers a wave of realization. You had been so caught up in conversation that you hadn't even realized how quickly the food on your plate had vanished, the satisfying sensation of your grumbling stomach barely even registering in your awareness.

Bruce can see the moment realization washes over you. The way your eyes widen, the surprised expression that crosses your features.

He can tell you hadn’t even noticed how quickly you’d finished your food, too caught up in conversation to pay attention to the almost empty plate.

He lets out a small, pleased hum, his eyes flickering across your face for a moment longer before he speaks.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” he teases quietly.

You flush, your cheeks burning slightly from embarrassment. It’s embarrassing to think that you’d actually finished all the food on your plate, without even realizing it.

You open your mouth to reply, but Bruce continues.

“One more bite,” he says, his tone almost fatherly, yet firm. His gaze flicks down to the two last nuggets on your plate.

You look down at the food, your stomach feeling full. You don’t think you can eat anymore without feeling nauseous. But the expectant look on Bruce’s face makes it clear this is not a request.

The tone of his voice, the fatherly insistence of his words, leaves no room for argument. The way his eyes flicker expectantly to the two remaining nuggets on your plate tells you that it’s not a request. It’s a demand.

You grimace slightly. The thought of forcing down one more bite of food makes your full stomach churn, the feeling of nausea rising in your gut.

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” you protest, your voice almost a petulant whine.

“No, you won’t,” Bruce responds simply. He can see the nausea in your face, the look of discomfort in your eyes. But he’s not backing down from this, not now.

His jaw is set, his gaze unwavering as he locks eyes with you, silently making it clear he won’t accept any arguing.

He leans forward just slightly, his gaze intensifying the slightest bit. “Now eat, Sunshine.”

You want to simultaneously kick his face in and curl up into a small ball of fuzz.

You don’t think that you’ve ever been talked to this way. Not even by the woman who raised you. It’s new.

There’s an authority in his tone, a hint of possessiveness in his gaze. He’s telling you what to do, demanding you finish the food on your plate, expecting you to listen to his every word.

It’s a tone that makes you want to both melt into a puddle and stand your ground and refuse. It’s a tone that makes your gut flip, your heart flutter, the butterflies in your stomach suddenly flying around in an erratic mess. Not in any sexual way, but in a way that makes you long.

“...Sunshine?” you murmur, looking up at him with an arched eyebrow.

A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of Bruce’s lips when he notices your reaction to his tone, the arch of your eyebrow at his nickname. He knows it caught your attention, the way your eyes widened slightly, the way your voice came out as a soft murmur.

“Yeah,” he repeats in a matter-of-fact tone, the hint of a smirk still on his face. “Sunshine.”

His gaze flickered over your expression, taking in every little detail. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was almost preening.

The tone of his voice, the way he said the single word, sends a shiver down your spine. It sounds almost sweet, almost affectionate. The way he glances over you, the way his gaze seems to linger over you, it’s as if he’s claiming you as his.

“That’s a weird nickname..” you say, your voice almost timid. You can’t keep the hint of a flush from your cheeks.

“Why Sunshine?”

His smirk widening at your quiet words. He can see the way your gaze flickers away, avoiding his, the way the flush on your cheeks deepens.

“Why not?” he counters, his tone almost challenging. He takes a moment, his eyes flickering up and down your face.

“You’re a little ray of sunshine, kid,” he says eventually, his voice quieter but almost affectionate.

The rest of the night blurs together in a rapid succession of events that seem to move almost too fast for your brain to register. In a flash, you find yourself stepping out of the luxurious limousine, the streetlights casting a soft glow on the sidewalk.

Bruce’s larger hand still grips your shoulder, his grip both supportive and affectionate. His voice is warm as he bids you farewell, his words echoing in your ears.

"Good night," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "I’ll see you soon."

Had you given the man your address...?

You chalk it up to the wine. Bringing your hand up to wave the black vehicle goodbye before adventuring up the worn down familiar steps that you called home.

As you wave farewell to the retreating car, you find yourself pondering for a moment whether or not you had actually given Bruce the address to your apartment. Perhaps the wine had been to blame.

With a slight shake of your head, you turn away from the departing limousine and begin your familiar ascent up the worn-down steps of the building you called home. The night air is cool and crisp, the glow of the streetlights casting elongated shadows on the concrete paths and cracked walls.

You linger outside the door of your apartment building, your keys clutched in your hand. For a few moments, you simply stand there, the cool night air caressing your skin as you press your forehead against the solid wooden frame.

You can't help but let out a soft sigh, the thought of facing Jason on the other side of that door not very appealing. You're not quite ready to deal with him just yet.

With a deep breath, you finally push yourself away from the door, the cool night air still caressing your face as you turn your attention back to the lock. You insert the key into the keyhole and twist it, the familiar click of the lock sliding open filling the air around you. As you push open the door, you brace yourself for what awaits inside.

As you step into the apartment, you're met with a peculiar sight. The living room is dark, save for a few dim shafts of light filtering in from outside and casting flickering shadows across the furniture. There's a strange stillness to the air, an aura of tension that you can feel even before registering the shape sitting nonchalantly on the couch, illuminated by the silvery moonlight.

Jason's tall form is casually sprawled across the piece of furniture, his body tense and his gaze focused on you with an unwavering intensity.

The moment you step into the living room, your eyes immediately land on Jason's form lounging on the couch. His tall frame is casually sprawled across the furniture, each muscle taut with an obvious tension. His eyes, sharp and dark, fix on you with a penetrative intensity that makes your skin tingle.

He doesn't move or speak, instead choosing to regard you with a quiet, almost unsettling stillness. The silence stretches on, the only sound the soft hush of the night outside and the faint ticking of the clock.

Your lips are caught between your teeth as you approach, your movements tentative and slow. Your eyes remain fixed on his face, his tense expression unwavering as you come closer.

Finally, you stop a few feet away, clutching a small bag in your hands tightly. Without a word, you hold it out in front of him, the rustle of the paper bag breaking the heavy silence.

Jason's eyes flicker to the bag extended towards him, tracking your movements with a guarded wariness. He makes no move to take it, instead regarding you with a suspicious eye.

A beat of tense silence passes before he finally responds, his voice low and gruff. "What's that?"

“An apology for storming out.”

Your response is quiet and deliberate, your voice carrying a hint of remorse. Jason regards you for a moment, his eyes fixated on your face. Finally, he shifts slightly, leaning forward to accept the bag from your hand.

His fingers brush against yours, the touch brief yet sparking a small jolt of electricity up your arm. "An apology, huh?" he responds, his voice a touch gruff but edged with a trace of reluctant understanding.

"It's your favourite," you motion, the words leaving your mouth in a soft whisper.

A small moment of silence passes before Jason responds again, his voice a bit gentler this time. "You didn’t have to," he replies, an unexpected but noticeable shift in his tone.

He regards you for a moment longer, a touch of surprise in his expression, before lifting the bag and peeking inside. At the sight of the familiar, beloved treats, a flicker of warmth sparks across his face. He looks up, meeting your gaze.

"You remembered," he mutters, his voice still gruff but laced with a hint of begrudging gratitude.

You nod your response, your movements weary as you finally collapse onto the couch beside Jason. Your body sinks into the soft cushions, the weariness of the day seeping into your bones.

"Made a stop on my way home," you explain, your voice quiet yet clear in the softly lit living room.

Jason grunts, acknowledging your explanation with a barely perceptible nod. He's still carefully avoiding your gaze, his focus fixed on the bag of treats. He’s not really angry. He never could be. Not with you.

After a moment of silence, he finally speaks, his voice a mix of gruffness and reluctant warmth. “Thanks,” he mumbles, the words a testament to his gratefulness despite his usual tough demeanor.

“Anytime man.”

Jason glances up at your response, his eyes flickering to your face. A brief moment of quiet passes, the sound of the night creatures outside the only background to the silent exchange between you two.

Eventually, he replies, a hint of gruff warmth lacing his words. “Damn right, anytime.”

Jason’s eyes flick up as you let out a small, amused snicker at his words. A small, sardonic grin pulls at his mouth, his shoulders relaxing just a bit.

"You think that's funny?" he mutters, his voice edged with amusement.

He teases, his voice taking on a more playful edge. "Don't see what's so funny about me saying you can bring home my favourite treats anytime you want."

Your snicker only increases in volume in response to his faux-offended tone, a smile slowly breaking out on your face. Jason's stoic expression cracks just a little at the sight, a reluctant smile pulling at his own mouth. He scoops his arm around your waist and pulls you close.

His large arm hooks easily around your waist, giving a gentle tug that pulls you closer to him. You end up pressed against his side, the warmth of his body seeping into your own. Despite the initial surprise at the sudden movement, you don't resist.

Jason keeps his grip on your waist firm, holding you against him as he shifts a bit to make room for you on the couch. His body is warm and solid beside you, a comforting presence in the dimness of the living room.

He leans back against the couch, his arm still around you as his gaze once again drifts down to the bag of treats in his lap.

"You always know what’ll get me to forgive you, don’t you?" he mutters, his voice low, yet holding a hint of affection.

His fingers idly play with the edges of the bag, the slight rustle of the paper filling the quiet space between you.

“Yep.” You pop the p.

No use of y/n, no descriptive features for the reader mentioned, no gender.

Did I drone on about nuggets? Whattttt nooooo… you must have read that wrong.

Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae @wpdarlingpan @dhanyasri @tojislvrr @phoenixgurl030 @mel-star636 @lilyalone @lavender-moony @nickey-diano @sociallyakwardpanda @obsessedwithromance @thickerthanthieves @nckcn @xxrougefangxx

For the Americans, your weird only being able to drink when you’re 21 law doesn’t exist anymore, you’ve joined the rest of the world at 18.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

book 7 part 8 thoughts!!

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 PART 8 OF THE MAIN STORY!!*** Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that roughly unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

Right off the bat, we're starting off strong with a video presentation from Idia!! He uses many MMORPG terms and analogies to better explain his concepts, even referring to allies as "party members".

The video is ~3 minutes long and the artwork used are Takashi Mifune-sensei’s LINE stickers. Yana says she is particular about functionality like Idia is, so she is pleased that they were able to implement this video. “Please watch Idia’s debut as. YouTuber!”

AGKVTIUOD8VQFVE IDIA SHROUD ASKS US TO LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE IF WE LIKED HIS PRESENTATION....... . . .. ...... .. . . . . .. . . . . I'LL GIVE IT TO YOU, IDIA... You popped off on the editing fr...

Idia tells us that there the population of Sage’s Island is roughly 20,000!

He basically explains his plan to defeat Malleus. Idia's going to fuck around with stuff in his own dream to make cheat codes to debuff Malleus (ie remove his invincibility). The others shall distract Malleus so he doesn’t catch onto what Idia is up to. Yuu, Grim, Sebek, Silver, and Ortho will infiltrate the dream worlds of classmates, "wake" them, and then recruit them to their cause. They will then lure Malleus into Idia's dream, at which point all the recruited students will JUMP HIM 🤡 Truly, the power of friendship but the NRC way…

Idia grants everyone the ability to DREAM FORM CHANGE!! By saying that phrase, it opens up a menu where you can magically change your outfit in an instant. The NRC boys are becoming magical girls… ✨

akjlfabidfbefeqof Grim has fun changing into his various Anniversary outfits! Ceremonial Robes, Labwear, Apprentice Chef...!

Silver and co. hop into Epel's dream! (Idia keeps in touch with everyone via his tablet while he stays behind in his own dream.)

Everyone at NRC seems to speak in the same Harveston dialect as Epel. And, well... here's apple boy...

IS THAT EPEL’S HEAD ON JACk’S BODY????????!!!!!?!?!?!!!?!?

THIS IS LITERALLY THE BUFF NATSUKI DDLC MEME 😭 I MEAN I WAS KINDA EXPECTING THIS BUTNIT FLOOKS SO FURGINGNGGGF GS CURSED

Anyway, the group just casually walks up to Epel and tells him everything is a lie??? And when Epel's world starts to go all wibbly wobbly, a dream!Rook and dream!Vil show up to praise him. Rook says he has heard rumors that Savanaclaw wants to recruit Epel for their own dorm, while Vil praises Epel as being both strong and beautiful, a perfect fit for Pomefiore.

I like that the implication is that while Epel still has a desire to be in a "tough" dorm like Savanaclaw, this dialogue seems to also say that he now also finds value in Pomefiore. This is why dream!Rook and Vil are tugging Epel in opposite directions; his soul must like BOTH options. Further proof is that Epel is still a Pomefiore student in his dream, he is not in Savanaclaw. To keep him under the sleep, the dream is trying hard to appeal to both sides of Epel's wishes.

So we battle the fake Rook and Vil!! Then Epel's memories come flooding back to him; the cracking glass effect is so pretty and calls into mind a mirror shattering as Epel gains his lucidity.

(Rook and Vil get similar "glass breaking" scenes upon waking, so I'm only going to comment on Epel's here and leave it at that!)

Cut to black to explain the situation to Epel!

Ortho invites Epel to join their "party" in Idia's dream! Then I believe he uses Epel's dream data to project a hologram of buff!Epel to remain in the dream while Epel joins the gang to hop into the next dream.

Next up is Rook's dream, and--

YUP, THAT'S A YEEHAWING ROOK HUNT IF I'VE EVER SEEN ONE 💀 I thought for sure his in-game 2D model would have larger arms (like, at LEAST Leona-sized arms, if not Jack-sized)... I guess not though, because we cannot have nice things/j

I love the extra detail of the leaves being stuck in the brim of his hat!! dfhlbafbiapia and bro just walks around with a quiver of arrows and a bow strapped to his back at all times...

ahbfg8yoadf9pbaegpb ROOK JUST DROPEPD A FUCKING BOMBSHELL ON US???????? Apparently Vil is a student at RSA and is besties with Neige???????????? BRO'S HEAD IS FR WRITING OUT FANFIC ABOUT HIS TWO MOST BELOVED IDOLS HOLDING HANDS AND GIGGLING TOGETHER

Uhhhh long story short, Rook runs off to his room and we chase him. What we find is--

YEAH THIS IS ROOK'S ROOM??????? It's probably what is depicted in his Savanaclaw Dorm Uniform SSR too. Note the split bed and the completely different carpets in the SSR artwork.

AEBFYVQEVYOFBQB THE WAY THE ROOM IS PERFECTLY SPLIT DOWN THE CENTER AND IS JUST STACKED WITH MERCH (including Tsum Neiges and Vils????????!????!?!?!?!?!??!!!!)

Rook starts to chuckle menacingly and pops off about his hyperfixations to us???? Then he wrangles us all to sit down and watch DVDs with him for the next *checks notes* 5 HOURS?????? AM I READING THIS CORRECTLY????? Rook... HONEY... THE WORLD IS ABOUT TO END, WE DON'T HAVE TIME TO DO THIS...

We keep trying to talk to Rook, but he isn't quite waking up yet. So we have an aside with the gang and Epel suggests... RECREATING OUR VDC PERFORMANCE??????? ? ?? ????? He shows Silver, Sebek, Grim, and Ortho the dance moves and the show goes on!

Rook is lured to the VDC stage and we get a new Absolutely Beautiful rhythmic with our current squad! Unfortunately, the vocals are the same as book 5, so we do not get a new variation with Epel, Sebek, Silver, Ortho, and Grim singing.

I love Love LOOOOVE that Epel is the center here!! He took the initiative to suggest the idea as well as teach everyone, and now he's REALLY walking the talk by serving as the "leader" of the group.

Watching the NRC Tribe makes Rook's head hurt and he starts to remember...!!

Well, wouldja look at that... Here comes dream!Neige and RSA!Vil to distract Rook. They say they are inspired by the NRC performance and start to perform Everyone Yahoo! This entrances Rook, making our task of "waking" him all the more difficult.

aihfboyfpie LMAO THEY'RE SO DRAMATIC?????? Vil steps up to defend Neige, and Neige is all like, "Nooo, Vii-kun! If anything were to happen to you, I'd be crushed by sadness :((" ROOK... IS THIS WHAT YOUR MIND COMES UP WITH...

Rook points an arrow at them and cries about how he betrayed Epel... (AYO LIKE THE HUNTSMAN????) and now he has to destroy Vil and Neige, who are "proof" of his betrayal. It makes him cry even more because he can't think of harming them, even if it's just a dream...

Anyway, time to pummel the sparkly duo! You can see from the battle sprites that RSA students seem to use REAL ASS SWORDS to channel their magic instead of magical pens. Man... Imagine being handed a writing utensil and then glancing over at the next guy and seeing them holding an ACTUAL WEAPON.

If you look closely, you can tell that Neige and Vil's pommels, grips, and rain guards are slightly different. Apparently, every RSA student has a unique one? WOW, I feel like NRC got ripped off then??? Cuz only the dorm leaders get unique items or staves to channel their magic and everyone else has the same standard issue magical pen but with a different magestone color. The only exception to this for the average student seem to be Diasomnia kids, who have baton style magical pens in their dorm uniforms.

Rook fully awakens and we rinse and repeat what we did with Epel (cut to black to explain things to him, make a hologram Rook to leave behind, and invite him to join us).

The last part of the update has us venturing into Vil's dream.

OMG, WE'RE IN FAIREST CITY??? AT QUEEN'S FILM STUDIO???? We just visited this place in a recent event! What perfect timing... I see you, clever TWST devs!

I swear that Vil's outfits are getting worse with each new one I see him in, but that's probably just my fashion sensibilities clashing with his 💦 I thought from the initial silhouette that we would be getting a slightly older Vil to show us how his values have changed since book 6, in which Vil declares he is always beautiful no matter what. Him being older would truly drive that point home; I feel this was a missed opportunity but maybe it wasn’t possible because these dreams don’t seem to be taking place in the “future” but mostly center on the present or past? Something, something, magic limited to what can be imagined and maybe the magic can’t reach that far “ahead”?

aefyeyovfyvqvf HIS NEW HAIRSTYLE KINDA LOOKS LIKE CROWLEY'S, DOESN'T IT...

Here, Vil seems to be highly popular + considered fairest of them all. Additionally, a certain SOMEONE has been relegated to being his mere assistant (and uh, Vil is somewhat demanding of them):

VIL... THIS ISN'T HELPING YOU BEAT THE MEAN GIRL ALLEGATIONS, SWEETIE...

On a more serious note, I think this raises an interesting point about Vil’s character. Try as he might to get over his envy of Neige, it’s clearly still something so deep-rooted in Vil, right up to the end of booo 5. Now this element also permeates in his dream world. Neige “has” to be demoted in so Vil can stand on top—but is that really “fair” to Neige?? Is it truly Vil’s jealousy that informs the dream of this, and thus the dream is spinning this shallow, easy victory for Vil’s satisfaction??? Because the noble Vil I know of in book 5 wouldn’t consider this a real “win”. Very fascinating topic to ponder!

Vil has Neige toss us out, which Neige does. The dream is preemptively acting this time, with dream!Neige coming at us. We make a getaway and somehow whack the head of the announcer + have Rook usurp his role.

As Vil is walking down the red carpet, Rook announces the various sins that Vil has committed. Vil panics and demands that someone shut Rook up, but then he starts to realize things aren't quite right.

We try to intervene, but Neige gets in the way and ultimately Vil is pulled deeper into his own darkness. Everyone else plunges into the dark with Vil?? I was worried that we'd have another battle map segment but thankfully there was none!!

We're back in the VDC backstage hallway area and stumble across a horrifying sight. Neige is on the ground (next to an empty bottle of apple juice) and all Seven Dwarves are surrounding him and sobbing. Ortho runs a scan on his vitals and Neige... FLATLINES...

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?????? THAT VIL ACTUALLY INTENDED TO KILL NEIGE IN BOOK 5????? 💀 Dude... No wonder why Vil was feeling so guilty and screaming that his actions were so "ugly"...

Epel uses his UM to encase Neige in a magical glass coffin to keep him safe. Then they run out onto the VDC stage and hear the announcer declaring that NRC has won. Vil is there soaking up all the attention and praise until we confront him.

Just as he is starting to "awaken", the darkness comes back and Vil alone is taken.

What I find really adorable here is that both Epel and Rook rush to his side and try to pull Vil out of the darkness. They're... OFFERING THEIR HANDS... TO HELP HIM OUT OF THE MIRE... OFFERED HANDS... A MOTIF THAT HAS BEEN IN TWST SINCE THE PROLOGUE... 👁️

Vil finally faces off against his Phantom. Like Idia in the last update, Vil willingly assumes his OB form to do battle. These fights seem very symbolic in the grand scheme of things. Idia and now Vil, confronting the worst, most unsavory parts of themselves, their inner demons, and rising victorious, proving that they have become better people… It continues the little bits of character growth that we’ve been seeing in each of the past books!!

He rises from the darkness and joins up with everyone else after conquering the fight!! The update ends here.

Okay, there's a LOT to talk about????????

The highlight for me was definitely Idia's presentation. It was very fun to watch because of the slick editing and it was a silly way to lay out the plans. I appreciate that we get to see Idia's strengths on display here; he can get long-winded and throw in lots of eccentric gamer slang, but you can also see how quickly he's able to tailor a complex plan together while accounting for many variables. adfhlboafoiyebif I UNDERSTAND THE IDIA HYPE NOW, I UNDERSTAND IT ALL...

(Side note: I did not know where to insert this, so I'll do it at the end! BONUS POINTS TO IDIA FOR RIGHTFULLY CALLING MALLEUS SHALLOW 💀 because his understanding of constitutes as happiness truly IS shallow. Once again, Idia slays with his brutally real words...)

I already said my parts about Epel and Rook's dreams when they happened. It was great seeing how their characters have developed, especially Epel! I never much cared for him, but I really appreciate all that he has done this update.

This pretty much confirms that future updates will have us visiting every remaining classmate's dreams and "waking" them. Admittedly, I'm both excited and worried??? Because that's a TON to cram in, and I worry that not everyone will get proper screentime or development. On the other hand, I'm hype to see what their dreams are like and what other limited SSRs the game might throw at us.

I feel like with the reveal of Vil OBing to fight his Phantom/"inner demons", we'll get similar scenes with the other OB boys coming to terms with what they've done and where they can go from here. This... might lead into the highly desired and speculated about Overblot series of SSRs, which I theorize will be the limited SSRs for each of the OB boys. I'll definitely be keeping my eyes peeled for those, TWST... I wonder if we'll get a Neige card eventually too??? Since we did see his battle assets exist this time. Will Chenya get one too, assuming he comes in a futureHeartslabyul update??

Aaaaaah, next time... Scarabia... 🤡 I'm so hype for that, Scarabia is like my second favorite dorm next to Octavinelle!! (SPEAKING OF, WILL WE FINALLY GET EEL FORM CARDS FOR THE TWINS...)

I’m sliiiightly concerned for Silver because bro used his UM no less than, what? 4 or 5 times this update alone??? He used his UM to enter Yuu’s dream and then Sebek, Lilia, AND Idia’s. Presumably, he also has to use his UM no less than 13 more times (12 more for the remaining boys + 1 more time to return them all to Idia’s to ambush Malleus). And even worse, he has to transport an increasing number of people each time. HOW TF IS SILVER NOT OVERBLOTTING????! 😭

bxjsgwjwnwkcbjsbs This update was nonstop WTF moments sandwiched between genuinely heartfelt moments. It’s been really rewarding to follow along and see how the Pomefiore boys have changed since we first met them all the way back in late book 4, early book 5. Looking forward to seeing how the other boys play out!! (… Book 7 is fr about to be 200+ parts long 😭)

[upsidedownwithsteve]

CH10. Cheque, Please! | The Menu [2.2K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

ONE YEAR LATER

The diner was packed. 

Tables were full, the large room a buzz of chatter and music, the speakers playing an old sixties bop. It was a familiar sight, one that happened more often than not since Jim sold the diner. The new owner ripped the place apart, down to its old bones before he put his life savings into it. 

New floors, new tables and chairs, artwork on the walls that were signed by Argyle, a photo of the whole staff taken and framed by Jonathan, Jim Hopper at the forefront, a wide smile on his face on the last day before his retirement. The bulbs in the neon sign outside had been replaced so it no longer flickered, the green and blue glow of it now announcing the diner’s new name, proud and bright for everyone to see. 

Eddie’s Slice Of Chicago. 

“Door! Behind!” You yelled out as you entered the kitchen empty plates piled high in your arms and Jonathan took them from you with practised ease. 

Steve was on the grill, still hesitant and not as fast as Argyle, but he was flipping burgers quicker than he had last week. His chef whites were brand new, his name badge shiny and his front of house position taken over by Nancy. Everyone was in new uniforms, freshly pressed and a sage green, aprons still without stains and a pocketful of pens that didn’t run out of ink too quickly. Robin was taking orders, laughing with a family from out of town, letting their toddler grab at her finger as she promised them to return soon with their pizzas and shakes. Dustin was helping Max run a large order to a table of backpackers, a border collie under the table at their feet, getting its ears scratched by the new start, Mike. 

There was a sign on the staff notice board, up beside the employee of the month, a piece of ripped paper with the words “SIXTY FOUR DAYS SINCE THE LAST FREEZER BREAKDOWN.” The rest of the space was filled with staff photos, polaroids and prints of the group at a fourth of July picnic, a barbecue at Jim’s in the summer, huddled around the kitchens countertops in the winter, drinking from mugs filled with Argyle’s homemade horchata, the frame that held Billy’s scrawled termination letter, an old napkin that held a small conversation in pen. 

It felt more like home than ever. Even when Eddie wasn’t there. 

Everyone answered to you in his absence, unofficially in charge when the boss wasn’t here. It had taken some getting used to, hell, you’d even tried to pawn off the responsibility to Nancy, or Steve, anyone who’d been at the grill longer than you had. But Nancy was part time, back at college during the week, taking Robin on dates in the evenings and Steve was too busy being trained as a new prep chef to worry about invoices and deliveries. 

So you stepped into the role cautiously, softening to the idea when Eddie kissed you something fierce and told you that there wasn’t anyone else he trusted to do the job. His acceptance letter had come the month after taking over the diner. A thick, white envelope that lay heavy on your doormat because he’d finally moved in, sharing your small apartment with you like he did everything else. 

Clothes. Jewellery. Books. Records. Food. Kisses. 

Vincennes University offered Eddie the chance to do what he hadn’t been able to before. Refining his craft, learning new skills, working in a state of the art kitchen with equipment he’d come home and gush to you about. The diner was doing well enough that tuition wasn’t a worry anymore and suddenly, the long commute into Indianapolis for classes four days a week seemed worth it. Eddie was passing with flying colours, receiving accolades and opportunities at every given moment and when he came home, exhausted but happy, he came home to you. 

Bone tired, he’d slip into the apartment, socked feet padding gently over the floorboards, Tupperware full of something delicious to be stacked in the fridge. He’d find you curled up somewhere, a black cat called Basil in the nook of your bent legs. He’d kiss you sweet, he’d kiss you soft, warming you up to a simmer until you forgot how much you’d missed him that day. 

It was all worth it. 

“Table eighteen wants extra hash browns and booth six needs two pepperoni’s and the Hawkins special, chefs,” you called to Steve as you slapped the orders onto the bar. 

“Got it,” Steve and Argyle called back, one a little more nervously than the other but it was okay, ‘cause Eddie was home soon. 

Eddie was home soon. 

He’d called from a pay phone outside of the school, voice buzzing with excitement, with pride, and yours mirrored his back. He’d be on the train soon, he’d meet you at the apartment, if you could get away early. So you handed your keys to Nancy and she grinned, knowing there was a cause for celebration waiting at home for you. You drove Eddie’s van back along the road, coming into town on the familiar stretch, passing Wayne’s, the trailer park you both visited every Sunday for dinner. 

The apartment door was unlocked, dimly lit in the early fall gloom, already smelling like garlic and tomatoes, like fresh bread and the scent of Eddie cologne that lingered on his jacket that hung in the hallway. Eddie’s records were in the shelves by your books, his guitar hanging from a hook in the tiny office room, his shoes on the bench by the door. He’d transformed your kitchen when he’d moved in, a decision that had been all too easy to make. There were  pots and pans hanging from the rack, shiny, sharp knives that he was scared of you using without him there, jars and tubs of ingredients stacked high in the fridge and the pantry. There were fresh herbs in planters on the window sill. The radio always played. 

The kitchen always felt like the heart of the home. 

That’s where you found Eddie, sweater sleeves rolled up and grinning at you from the stove top, a large spoon in hand as he mixed in some fresh rosemary to the pot of sauce. He greeted you with a glass of wine, the cheap stuff that you liked best, catching you in a kiss before you could bring the cup to your lips. 

He kissed you soft, kissed you sweet, humming when you laughed into his mouth, his free hand slipping inside of your shirt to ghost his fingers over your ribs. 

“Hi,” you whispered. You’d never tire of this. This warmth, this kind of greeting, this feeling of coming home. “Good day?”

Eddie nodded, stealing another kiss, catching the corner of your mouth. He gazed at you, eyes shining with excitement and you could practically feel the buzz in his bones for what he was about to say. 

“I got it.”

You blinked, once, before your smile turned into a grin and it stretched wide. You barely had the common sense to place your wine on the countertop before you launched yourself at the boy, your arms wound round his neck as your crushed your face into his curls. Eddie whooped, a joyful thing as he lifted you off your feet and grinned against your throat. 

“You got it,” you whispered back to him, everything in you frilled with awe and pride. 

“I got it,” he repeated again. His voice sounded thick. 

The internship with Chef Emmelie was something that everyone in Eddie’s class was vying for. Eddie had spent an insane amount of time on his application, using you as his own personal taste tester in both work and home. New recipes were concocted, old dishes were reworked and it had all paid off. Eddie had been hand picked to work alongside one of the country’s greats, assisting in setting up a new restaurant, a fine dining establishment that promised to deliver nothing but the best cuisine to the masses. Eddie would help create the menu, and hopefully, maybe, eventually, take over as head chef. 

It was another level of surreal. 

“I knew you would,” you mumbled into his neck, pulling back only to crush Eddie’s cheeks in the palms of your hands and give him a kiss that ducked his breath away. His lips tasted salty, but perhaps that was your own tears you could taste. Eddie just held onto you tighter, his stew mix bubbling away without any attention. “Where is it? Have they told you where you’re setting up?”

You’d held Eddie’s hand as he clutched his application letter and promised him that no matter where they sent him, you’d follow. The only thing that tied you to Hawkins, was the boy and Basil was easy enough to smuggle into a cat carrier, once you could catch him. Wayne had squashed any hesitancy from Eddie immediately, waving him off and saying that there would be private jets for each of you once he hit the big time as the new celebrity chef. And of course, there was the diner. 

Eddie laughed then, a breathy, disbelieving thing and he finally shuffled to settle you onto the small dining table that sat in the corner of the kitchen. He nudged his way in between your legs, sniffling when Basil appeared to wind around his own ankles and the only sounds were the purring of the cat and the simmering of dinner. You held your breath, brows raised, expectant. 

London? Dubai? Paris? Los Angeles?

“They wanna set up in Chicago.”

—————

Going back to the city you left was a lot less daunting with Eddie by your side. 

Wayne moved out of the trailer park and into your apartment, something that made leaving a little easier for Eddie. He still owned the diner, and promised to stop by at least a few times a month if scheduling around the new restaurant would allow. He’d found a new manager, a woman from town called Joyce who loved to bake and knew enough about taxes and accounting that she didn’t fuck up order and invoices. She loved the place like Eddie did, promised she’d do it proud. 

(She met Jim on Sunday in summer and after she served him her famous cherry cheesecake, one date in the park had turned into three, into five and now they were inseparable. They spent most of their time walking around town, visiting farmers and Jim enjoyed his retirement by helping Joyce create new desserts for the diner.)

Eddie’s internship came with an apartment in the suburbs, a small townhouse that was far enough from the hustle of the city that you felt more at home than before. It was less bright, less loud and Basil had a garden to roam in, a bench beside a vegetable patch he could bathe in the sun from. 

It had a pantry and old oak floors, a huge window that looked out onto the street that was lined with cherry trees, and a nook in the living room that you liked to read in. You found a job, pretty easily, a vintage bookstore on the edge of town that smelled like coffee and cinnamon, old pages and older stories. It was owned by an old man who let his dog sleep under the front desk, who brought in pastries for breakfast and made you sweet tea in the summer. 

The restaurant opened in the spring. Hit headlines the following day, praising the special on the menu made by newcomer chef, Edward Munson. By the summer, the heat was climbing and so was Eddie’s popularity. He was running the restaurant, got to create a new menu every six weeks and the waitlist was booked out until Christmas. He told you he loved you every time you paid him a visit, on your lunch break, a whisper between a kiss hello and goodbye in the kitchen, coy whistles from his staff that he burned pink at. 

And when you both drove back to Hawkins for long weekends and holiday stays, you crammed yourselves and Basil into your old apartment with Wayne, packed his freezer full of food and tried to convince him to take in one (maybe two) of the strays from the trailer park to keep him company. 

You spent the Fourth of July with the diner crew, in the backyard of Jim and Joyce’s new home, sharing Polaroids and newspaper clippings of the restaurant, of your new home, Eddie’s menu. Steve was in awe but nothing could beat the look of pride on your boyfriend’s face when Steve told him he’d mastered a French omelette. Argyle was running the kitchen, Nancy had been promoted to assistant manager, part time or not, and Robin had helped Jonathan in running a Sunday morning coffee club, where Hawkins residents got to taste test new bean flavours over a pastry breakfast and some town gossip. 

Eddie didn’t scowl much, not anymore. 

And when you next bumped into Chrissy, you waved at her from under the tuck of Eddie’s arm, diamond ring glinting on your left hand in the sun. She didn’t have much to say to you, not after that. 

[sanctus-ingenium]

hi! absolutely love your art!! can i ask how you get the screentone effect (like on the fool card), is it something built into procreate? hope you have a nice day :)

hi thank you!! for that card i used the Halftone filter in the adjustments menu

for other artwork I've also used specialised halftone brushes (such as those found at true grit texture supply).

[piastrisun]

halfway there.

pairings: charles leclerc + fem reader.

summary: a night out in france turns into a moment of connection as charles helps you face a language barrier, only for you to surprise him with more than just words.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 1.4k.⠀ warning: none.

notes: few days later but he’s a little blurb for charles’ international day!! one that has actually nothing to do with birthdays but alright, enjoy. :)

you find yourself seated with charles, on one of your usual and favourite kind of dates, dimly lit restaurant in the heart of lyon. the walls are adorned with intricate artwork, and the faint glow of candlelight dances across the polished tables, casting delicate shadows. the soft hum of french conversations fills the room, blending with the clinking of glasses and the faint notes of a jazz melody playing in the background. the air is rich with the scent of truffle, roasted garlic, and a medley of herbs, making the space feel both luxurious and intimate.

you stare at the menu, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the array of unfamiliar words and the elegant but indecipherable descriptions. each dish sounds more complex than the last, and the language barrier makes it almost impossible for you to figure out what you might enjoy. you feel a small wave of anxiety bubbling up—your usual indecisiveness amplified by not even being able to fully grasp your options.

charles glances at you, noticing your hesitant expression. “what do you think?” he asks, his voice warm, eyes full of quiet understanding.

you sigh, glancing down at the menu. “i don’t even know what half of this says,” you admit, laughing softly at yourself. “but i do know what i feel like eating.”

you had already mentioned what you were in the mood for, listing off ideas you had in mind but couldn’t quite articulate into a dish. as always, he listens attentively, picking up on the subtle cues and the bits of your personality that often lead you to second-guess yourself.

charles, ever composed, scans the menu with the ease of someone completely at home. he reads off the french dishes effortlessly, his voice low and melodic, a natural rhythm that feels both soothing and slightly intimidating. you watch him, trying to catch any familiar words, but most of it sounds like a beautiful, indecipherable blur. you nod along as if you understand, trusting him completely to make the right choices for you both.

“i think you’d like this one,” he says, pointing to a dish on the menu with a reassuring smile. he describes it in detail, translating the words into something familiar, tweaking it just the way you like—something flavorful, without any heavy meats.

you smile, feeling that familiar warmth spread in your chest, thankful for the way he always seems to get it right, how he helps you navigate these moments when your indecision takes over. “you always know exactly what i want,” you say softly, grateful for his patience, for the way he understands you so well.

when the waiter arrives, charles orders for the two of you, his tone polite. you admire the confidence in his voice, the way he effortlessly navigates into more than one language. the waiter nods, scribbling down the orders, and as charles thanks him, you feel a small flutter of nerves. something tugs at you, an impulse to step out of your comfort zone. you gently tap the waiter's arm, catching both his and charles's attention.

but something tugs at you—a small desire to step out of your comfort zone. as the waiter starts to leave, you gently tap his arm. “excusez-moi,” you say, your voice measured and deliberate. you can feel charles’s gaze shift to you, a mix of curiosity and surprise flickering in his eyes. “sans poulet, s'il vous plaît. je ne mange pas de poulet.” your accent is not that far from perfect, and the words feel slightly foreign on your tongue, but you get through it with a kind of quiet determination. the waiter nods politely, offering you a smile before he walks away.

charles stares at you, his surprise palpable. he blinks once, twice, trying to process what just happened. “you speak french?” he asks, his tone light but genuinely intrigued. he leans in slightly, as if seeing you in a new light.

you shrug, feeling a slight twinge of embarrassment mixed with a bit of pride. “i don’t,” you say, your voice firm but playful as you fidget with your napkin, folding and unfolding it just to have something to do with your hands.

he laughs softly, the sound warm and disbelieving. “you just did,” he points out, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “and it was quite good.”

your eyes meet his, and there’s a spark of something unspoken—pride, nerves, a hint of defiance. “barely,” you say, looking down for a moment before glancing back up at him, trying to convey that you’re not as skilled as he seems to think. “i know my basics.”

charles tilts his head, studying you, his smile growing. “greeting and introducing yourself are the basics,” he teases, a playful lilt in his voice. “not saying you don’t eat chicken.”

your expression shifts into one of gentle stubbornness. you keep your face composed, meeting his gaze with a flat but not unfriendly look. “it is to me,” you reply teasingly, your face serious but not harsh.

he bursts into laughter, the sound warm and infectious, that makes heads turn briefly in your direction. you watch him, your own laughter bubbling up despite your earlier seriousness. you can’t help it—the warmth of his reaction, the way he looks at you like you’ve just revealed a secret talent, makes you feel seen in a way that’s both exhilarating and a little unnerving. your laugh is softer, almost shy, but it spills out as if it’s been waiting for permission.

you reach for your glass of water, taking a sip to steady yourself, but the smile lingering on your lips betrays your feelings. there’s a flutter in your chest, and the realization that this moment, this small, silly exchange, means more than it seems. it’s the little glimpses of who you are together—a shared laughter, a playful challenge, a quiet understanding.

charles watches you, his expression softening. “i like this,” he says quietly, his voice low and sincere. “i like discovering these little things about you.”

you tilt your head, curiosity piqued. “like what?” he smiles, taking a moment as if searching for the right words.

“like how you’re so sure you don’t know something, but then you go and prove yourself wrong,” he explains, his eyes never leaving yours. “it’s charming. you’re charming.”

your heart skips a beat, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “i just… i don’t want you to have to do everything all the time when we’re here or in your home,” you admit. “it doesn’t feel fair.”

charles reaches across the table, his hand brushing against yours in a gentle. “you don’t have to worry about that,” he says, his thumb grazing your knuckles. “i like helping you. i like being there for you.”

you blush under his gaze, your heart fluttering. “i know,” you say, your voice quieter now. “but it’s nice to feel like i’m contributing, even if it’s just in small ways.”

his fingers graze yours with a delicate yet reassuring touch as his eyes hold yours, warm and sincere. “you do,” he says, his smile spreads slowly, genuine, as if his words aren’t enough to express how much you mean to him. “more than you know.”

you squeeze his hand lightly, your gaze dropping to where your fingers intertwine before meeting his eyes again, determination flickering in your voice. “still. i want to meet you halfway, so you can really express yourself when we’re together.”

his gaze softens further, an almost vulnerable look crossing his face as he processes what you’ve just said. the tenderness in his expression deepens, and he leans in just a fraction, slightly blushing, as if closing the emotional distance between you. “you’d do that?”

“of course,” you say, your voice gentle as your smile softens. “i want you to feel at home, too, like you do for me. it’s important that you can be yourself, speak how you’re most comfortable.”

his features soften as if he's seeing you anew, and a quiet intensity builds in the space between you. “so…” there’s a tenderness in his expression. “if i say ‘je t’aime,’ would you know what i mean?”

you grin, a playful spark lighting your eyes as you roll them teasingly. “charlie, that’s actually basic french,” you respond with a lighthearted chuckle.

for a moment, charkes freezes, his confident exterior cracking as he mocks himself with an exaggerated, uncomfortable face, realising he’s been caught off guard by his own words. it’s endearing, the way he momentarily loses his composure.

your soft laughter fills the space, warm and full of affection, and you lean in closer, your voice dropping to a tender whisper. “i love you too, dumbass.”

his expression melts into a smile, one that’s equal parts relieved and overjoyed, and he squeezes your hand tighter, pulling you just a little closer across the table. “you really are something, you know that?”

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

[delta-hexagon]

Disabled Hexagon Seeking Help with Bills and Food

hi y'all Delta here! my crohns disease has been flaring up and i keep missing work, leading to tiny paycheques that almost immediately vanish into the void the moment they hit my bank account. at the time of writing this i have a whopping 3 dollars in my bank account and ICBC is poking me to renew my car insurance and i

i am tired. who can afford all of this

if you'd like to help get me through to my next payday, or even go so far as to help me ditch the 9-5 altogether and transition to working from home on my artwork, please consider checking out my ko-fi and my patreon!

i offer commissions via ko-fi and monthly critter requests on patreon

i have so many ideas for things i want to do and add to my patreon, but i need the time and rest to actually do it all. i want to draw more, sculpt little guys in zbrush for y'all to print, write stories, hold livestreams again; theres so so much i want to share!!

thank you for taking the time to check out my stuff, and stars bless~! <3

[13as07]

Motherhood #2

(Kakashi Hatake)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Pasta69]

Requested by: fireflyglori

Word Count: 3,744

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Pregnancy

Mentions of Blood

———————————————————————

A wave of nausea hits me the instant I walk through the curtains of the Ichiraku Ramen shop. Instinctually, my hand jumps up, pushing my nose closed and covering my mouth in hopes of keeping down the sick feeling. Despite the churning of my stomach, I can't help but smile, the fitness report in my pocket burning a hole through my clothing.

     "Lady Hatake!" Naruto yells, somehow balancing on his stool despite squirming on it. His hand is thrown up in the air, waving wildly like the five steps separating us is an ocean instead of a couple boards of wood. "Welcome home! We've missed you!" He adds with a huge grin on his face, showing off the whiteness of his teeth.

     "Shut up, Naruto," Sasuke grumbles, sparing me a glance before pretending to focus on his menu. For once, Sakura isn't wrapped up in the moodiness of her crush, her excitement of my return shown in the constant shift of her weight and the burning look she's sending her Sensei.

     Kakashi's eye is on me, head slightly turned as he looks me over. Even with one of his eyes covered, not a single thing ever sneaks past him. Not like I'm trying to hide my queasiness. The paleness of my skin and the sweat covering my forehead, like it has every morning for the two weeks of my mission, is an endless and pointless thing to try and hide. "Hello," he mutters, on his feet and heading toward me as soon as his once-over is done.

     "Hello," I echo, the word coming out bubbling because of my still pinched nose.

     A hand is on my waist, another pressed to my forehead when my husband gets to me, the gears in his head turning as he checks my temperature. I'm sure the common illnesses of the Hidden Grass Village are rolling through his thoughts. "You look ill. Did you go to your post-deployment physical?"

     "I did, yes," I murmur, snaking my fingers under the sleeves of his vest, clinging to the material as I avoid looking at my husband's face. I was hoping to share the news when we're home, alone, but at the rate his anxiety is climbing I don't think I'll get to. "It's non-contagious and was contracted on Leaf Village territory." Technically, not a lie, but very misleading.

     Kakashi's eye squints, glancing over me again as he thinks over the explanation. "Cancer?" He whispers, tone even despite the deepness that comes with a disease like that.

     "No. Why is that the first thing you think of?"

     He shrugs his shoulders, both hands squeezing my waist now. "It's usually the sorest lemon on the tree when it comes to my life."

     "I don't have cancer."

     "Are you sure?"

     "I'm sure."

     Another squint and once-over comes before my husband's mouth snaps open again. "I want to see your fitness report."

"No," I hum, pulling myself out of his hold. "You can look it over when we get home."

"I want to see it."

"I said no," I repeat myself, sliding into the empty stool next to Naruto. The fuzz-ball connects himself to me, his arms around my shoulders as he buries his head into my neck, rambling on about their recent D-ranked missions among the village.

"I wasn't asking, Love," Kakashi grumbles, a hiss hidden under his words. "I want to read it, now," he adds, his hand held out, impatient fingers waving to further tempt me into giving him the report.

"You don't have to be so rude, Sensei," Sakura butts in, trying to lecture her teacher.

Kakashi doesn't acknowledge her, refusing to budge until I give in. We stare at each other for a few moments, testing to see who'll give in first. As expected, I give in before he does, digging through my pocket for the folded-up packet. "Thank you," he utters, snatching the sheets from me before I can change my mind.

"Way to ruin the surprise for yourself," I grumble, rolling my eyes at the demanding man.

Kakashi busies himself looking over the report, my focus is on the menu Naruto abandoned, and his students hold their breaths, carefully watching their Sensei read over the packet of information.

After two page flips, I tune into my husband as well, turning my head to watch his reaction. The moment his eye slides over the pregnancy test result line is marked by a small "hmph" clogging his throat. The packet is tipped down, his eye glancing at me before snapping the sheets straight. I carefully watch as he skims the line a few more times, a soft pink slowly starting to taint the tips of his ears and the edge of his mask.

Another glance is thrown my way before Kakashi pushes up his headband, exposing the sharingan that makes up his other eye. A smile curls on my lips as he keeps rereading the line, his chest pumping a bit faster each time.

"Kakashi Sensei?" Sasuke asks, breaking the silence first, a sore look on his face as he carefully examines his teacher. "Are you okay?"

"Oh my, it really is... cancer," Sakura hesitates for a moment, whispering the last word as her hand covers her mouth, tears already welling in her eyes.

"It's not cancer. My wife is fine, great even," Kakashi corrects, tugging his headband back down. "You three go ahead and order lunch. The Mrs and I are going to go on a walk. We'll be right back," he orders with a closed-eye smile covering his features, sadly chasing away the pink that was dusting his skin.

     Before I know it, my husband's hand is knotted in mine, pulling me to my feet and out of the restaurant. The hushed conspiracies of his students echo behind our steps, growing quieter the further away we get. Kakashi doesn't tug me away for long, only trailing me around the side of the building. "You're pregnant," he whispers, gently pushing me against the wall, letting the shadows of the alleyway hide us.

The chill from the bricks stabs through my shirt, attacking my spine. The cold doesn't last for long, quickly chased away by my husband's body heat. Kakashi presses himself against me, head in my neck, arms wrapping around me, and his legs tangling with mine. "You're pregnant," he repeats, the soft words feathering over the skin of my throat. "You're going to be a mom."

"And you're going to be a dad."

———————————

"You're bloated," Sasuke grumbles, his nose scrunched as his eyes aim at my stomach, pointing out the slight swell of my belly. I've gained about three pounds during the past four weeks, the preview of the weight gain my second-trimester promises. Of course, all the weight is collecting around my stomach, hence the bloating comment.

     "Good morning, Sasuke," I greet, trying to blink the tiredness out of my eyes. The knock at the door woke me up this morning, my second wake-up call of the day. Kakashi rolling out of bed to get ready was the first. He only left an hour ago, half of which I managed to fall back to sleep during. "Kakashi isn't here, he already left for the day. I think he's helping Gai - "

     "I know," the child cuts me off, his tone snappy and his eyes rolling. "He told me to come sit with you until Gai and him are done with whatever mission the Hokage sent them on. He rambled about some doctor's appointment and told me to remind you he'd make sure he'd be back for it."

     Yesterday I noticed some spotting, nothing more than three or four droplets, but he didn't care. As soon as the word 'blood' left my mouth, he was already out the door and on his way to the clinic, insisting I should get a checkup 'just in case'. Thirty minutes and a very flustered Kakashi later, and I have an appointment set for two-thirty today.

     "You don't have to sit with me until he gets back, that would be like," I pause for a second, flicking my eyes toward the clock on the wall. Eight forty-two. "Five hours or so. I'll be fine by myself."

     Sasuke looks unamused as he cranes his neck, finally looking at my face instead of my small belly bulge. "Sensei promised to show me a new jutsu if I stayed with you. I'm staying."

     "Fine," I mutter, my hands rubbing at my eyes as I walk away, leaving the door open for the irritation to let himself into the house. "I'm going to make myself some breakfast. Have you eaten yet? Do you want something to eat?" I question him, turning down the hallway to head into the kitchen.

     "You didn't already eat?" He asks, eyeing the colorful decorations of the room, mostly courtesy of Gai.

     "No, the knocking woke me up actually."

     "If you didn't eat yet, why are you so bloated?" He asks with the same bored look as usual, this time paired with a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

     "I'm not bloated," I carefully say, swinging the fridge open and scanning the shelves for something that doesn't sound or smell repulsive. My eyes settle on the jar of pickles, my stomach purring in agreement. It's not too bad to have pickles for breakfast, right? As long as I eat something it should be fine.

     "So, what? You're just getting fat?"

     "Something like that," I grumble, making up my mind about breakfast. Pickles and peanut butter. It sounds gross but also sounds like the best food imaginable at the moment. I tug the jar out of the fridge, swinging the door closed before digging through the cabinets for the peanut butter jar.

     "You'd look ugly fat," Sasuke butts in again, sliding into a chair at the table.

   �� "Well you look ugly now so I guess it won't hurt too much, hm?"

     Disbelief crosses the kid's face, a ting of guilt eating at my heart. At least until Sasuke turns his nose up at me, or maybe my choice of breakfast. Despite his disgust, he doesn't move away when I settle into the chair next to him, my weird food choice and a fork in tow.

     My mouth almost waters as I unscrew the lids, fishing out a pickle with my fork before dipping it into the peanut butter. "That looks gross," Sasuke grumbles, scrunching his nose again. "How are you eating that?"

     "It's my Lady's top craving at the moment," Pakkun butts in, the small dog finally trudging out of the bedroom to join me and our guest. His nails click against the wood of the floorboards, stopping once he's beside me. "I wish to sit in your lap," the pug requests, his front paws digging into my thigh.

     "Can you wait until I'm done eating?" I ask around a mouthful of perfectly mixed smoothness and acid. Pakkun wasn't lying when he said this is my favorite craving. I've eaten it at least once a day for the past week.

     "No," he deadpans, gently scratching at my pajama pants. "I want to check the baby's heartbeat."

     "You just slept on my stomach. I promise nothing has happened in the five minutes we've been apart."

     "Pick me up, My Lady."

     "The baby?" Sasuke asks, pulling me out of the conversation with my husband's dog.

     "Shit, you're not supposed to know that yet," I grumble, snapping another chunk off the pickle hanging on my fork. "Don't tell anyone."

"I won't," he whispers, snapping his head away from me. We sit in silence for a while, Sasuke not so discreetly inching his chair closer to mine. "You're going to get fat."

"So fucking fat," I joke, softly giggling at the sigh he lets out.

———————————

     "Shut up, Naruto, you don't even know how to read." The pug in my arms chuckles at Sasuke's complaining, his small body shaking and his fur rubbing against my skin.

     "I know how to read. It's a requirement to pass the academy. I just don't know why you're reading a cookbook. Trying to be a chief Sasuke, huh? Decided the shinobi life is too difficult for you?"

     "In your dreams. I just wanted to... learn about pasta," the Uchiha mumbles, glancing back down at his book.

     "Well, I think hobbies are wonderful, especially cooking," I butt in, sending the flustered boy a wink. Sakura might be Kakashi's favorite and Naruto is Iruka's, but Sasuke is mine. Extra now with the hidden pregnancy book wrapped in the cover papers of a recipe book.

     "Lady Hatake!" Naruto cheers, jump-starting his steps so he can run the small distance between us.

     Pakkun jumps out of my arms, landing on the ground and ducking for cover before Naruto slams into me, making me stumble back a couple of steps. Instantly, Kakashi's and Sasuke's heads snap toward me, both shooting death-threatening glares at the blonde.

     "Naruto - " Kakashi starts, hurrying forward, beelining straight at us.

     "What are you doing?!" Sasuke yelps, jumping up and lunging at his squad mate. The boys stumble to the ground, Naruto trying to buck and push his teammate off of him. "You're so careless, Naruto! What if you would have hurt Lady Hatake? You have to be careful with her. You can't be running around all Willy Nilly, knocking into her left and right!"

     "Maybe you forgot but Mrs. Hatake is a shinobi too, Sasuke. Don't tell me you think she's weaker than us just because she's a girl. That's really messed up."

     "Whatever," the moody boy grumbles, finally getting off his squad mate. Sasuke spares me a glance, a quick once over before grumbling again, this time to himself as he settles back down with his book.

     "Hey," Kakashi says when he lands in front of me, his voice airy in an attempt to maintain his calmness. "Are you okay? Naruto didn't bump into you too hard, did he? Does anything feel off?" Questions spill like water from my husband, his hand on my lower stomach as he interrogates me. His eye scorches over me as well, looking for any obvious signs of distress or discomfort, neither of which he finds.

     "We're all good."

     "All good. You're all good. They're good. We're good," my husband whispers to himself, rubbing his palm softly and slowly over my stomach to try and soothe himself. "Maybe we should schedule another appointment, just in case."

"I just had an appointment yesterday. It was a small bump, barely even that. You worry too much."

"I don't worry too much," Kakashi grumbles, dropping into a squat, both hands cupping my belly now. "I just want to make sure nothing happens to my beautiful wife or our precious bundle of joy."

"Nothing is going to happen. We're fine," I repeat, resting my hands on top of his. "I already put in my temporary leave and we got a clear report from the doctors yesterday. I'm fine, they're fine, you're fine."

"You're fine, the baby is fine, I'm fine, we're all fine," Kakashi repeats, smoothing his hands back and forth before leaning forward, brushing a masked kiss to the center of my belly.

"The baby?" Naruto asks, causing my husband to pause mid-kiss.

"Shit," Kakashi whispers before jerking away from me, straightening himself to his full height. Slowly, he turns away from me to face his student. "Mrs. Hatake is... well, she's pregnant but - "

     "You're pregnant?!" Naruto interrupts, completely ignoring his Sensei to focus on me. He steps around his teacher, eyes sparkling as they focus on me. "Is it a boy or a girl? When is the baby supposed to be born? Can I touch your belly? Are they going to be a shinobi like you guys? Does Sakura know? How about Sasuke? You didn't tell him before you told me, did you? Does - "

     "That's enough questions," my husband butts in, wrapping his hand around Naruto's mouth to stop his never-ending flow of questions. "All that you need to know right now is that we're expecting and that we don't want people to know yet. So, keep it a secret, okay?" Naruto nods in agreement, eyes blown out as he stares up at Kakashi. "Good," he murmurs, finally letting go of his student.

     "Can I just - "

     "No."

     Naruto huffs at his Sensei's ruling, finally letting go of the situation and turning back to pestering Sasuke.

     Slowly, Pakkun pokes his head out of his hiding spot, softly chuckling at us. "At this rate, your secret isn't going to be a secret much longer."

     "What's he talking about?"

     I shoot a glare at the dog, which only deepens his chuckling and makes my face heat up. "So, yesterday while Sasuke was sitting with me, your dog might have let the whole baby news slip," I softly explain, a weary smile resting on my lips as I look up at my husband.

     "Well, if Pakkun hadn't told Sasuke yesterday he would have found out today so I suppose it was unavoidable."

     "You did tell Sasuke first!" Naruto shrieks, amping up another round of The Egos between the two students.

     "Oh dear, here we go again," Kakashi grumbles to himself, pecking a kiss on my temple before he marches away from me, getting ready to intervene between the boys.

     I roll my eyes at the situation, bending down to snatch the pug back into my arms. "You and your master's big mouths," I tease the dog, nuzzling my nose against his head.

     "The big mouths that are going to convince you to go to another appointment."

     "I'm not going to another checkup. The baby is fine, you two just worry too much," I groan, waving at the three boys before turning on my heels and starting the short walk home.

———————————

     "This is dumb," I grumble, arms crossed over my chest as I slouch in the waiting room chair.

"It's not dumb, it's a precaution," Kakashi corrects, most of his focus on filling out my paperwork for me. "It doesn't hurt to be sure, especially with your recent spotting."

"There's nothing wrong. Naruto barely bumped into me and I've felt completely fine since then."

"You did get up a lot last night."

"Because I had to pee and then I got too hot, not because of Naruto's excitement," I hiss, snapping my head toward my husband. "A bed with you, Mr. Personal Heater, eight dogs, and Heater Jr gets a little warm at night."

     "I'll get us some fans. Or maybe one of those personal cooling units. I'll stop and get some popsicles until then too. That should help keep you chilled until I get stuff figured out," Kakashi mutters, more to himself than me. Mr. Cool remaining calm even during my hissy fit.

     Guilt claws at my chest as my husband keeps rambling, coming up with different ideas to cool me off at night. How'd I get so lucky? How'd I manage to have Kakashi as a life partner? A man who lets my anger simmer and instantly tries to fix the issue for me?

     "Mr. Hatake?" Someone calls, causing both of us to shift our focus toward the sound. An older blonde lady is standing in the waiting room, six or seven steps away from us. Her green eyes are locked on us, the color instantly reminding me of Kakashi's student. "What are you doing here?"

     "My wife needs to see a doctor, why else would someone be at the hospital, Mrs. Haruno?" Kakashi asks, keeping his tone and features light, but the underlining statement - please leave - still shines through. He always gets like this when he believes I'm hurt, even worse when I am actually hurt. Overprotective when it comes to - even lack of - threats, including his student's mother.

"What happened to Mrs. Hatake? Is she already?" A lighter voice comes, paired with a flash of pale pink behind the woman in front of us.

As Kakashi's eyes fall down, mine snap to the side, watching the panic wipe off his face as soon as it flashes across it. "Oh, Sakura, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Sensei, but what's wrong with your wife? Is it really..." The child falls quiet, eyes flickering around as she takes a few steps closer to my husband. "Cancer?" She whispers, cupping her hands around her mouth to try and muffle the word.

"No. No, no, no, Mrs. Hatake doesn't have cancer," he answers, hands waving around and a soft pink coating the tips of his ears. My husband is growing more flustered by the moment and I can't help but enjoy the scene unfolding.

"Are you sure?" Sakura asks, pulling back a bit as her eyes squint, glancing over her Sensei in search of answers. "You've been acting off since she got back from her mission. You got all weird and quiet after reading her physical. Then you bribed Sasuke into sitting with her. Plus, this morning Naruto told me we didn't have training because you were freaking out about taking her to the doctor yesterday. Definitely seems like your wife is dying."

"She's not dying," Kakashi rushes out, sitting on the edge of his seat now, the heat reaching the edge of his mask. "The opposite, actually. There's nothing to worry about."

"What's the opposite of dying?"

It takes a second, but a smile rests on the face of Sakura's Mom, the older woman sending me a knowing look. My husband sucks in a breath, holding it as he stares at his student. "I don't know," he whispers, holding eye contact with her like he's been cornered by a bear and is worried it'll strike if he moves.

"Oh my," Sakura whispers, her eyes flickering between the two of us. "Is she...? Is your wife...? She's going to have a baby, isn't she?"

A hiss breath spills from my husband, his hands jumping up and decking under his headband to rub at his eyes. "So much for keeping the gift of your motherhood a secret," he whispers, dropping his hands away from me and looking at me with as much of a loopy smile as possible with his mask on.

"I was right!" Sakura cheers, a toothy grin on her face as she claps her hands.

"Ya, you're right," I agree with her, shaking my head at my stressed husband and his excited student. "I'm having a baby."

———————————————————————

[fatimabb]

where jjk men would take you for the first date :3

GOJO SATORU

Gojo has a flair for the dramatic and a taste for the finer things in life, so he’d plan a first date at a chic rooftop lounge with a beautiful view of the city.

He’s taken care of every detail, from the soft, ambient music playing in the background to the perfectly curated menu of small plates and exotic cocktails.

Gojo would revel in the opportunity to impress you, ordering playful, extravagant dishes and insisting you try each one, claiming, “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried this.”

Throughout the evening, he would be playful, pushing boundaries in that charming-yet-infuriating way only Gojo can. Every time you start to talk about yourself, he’d interrupt with a witty remark, a smirk playing on his lips, trying to fluster you.

He thrives on seeing you react, watching your cheeks flush as he leans in too close, maintaining intense eye contact. Despite his teasing, Gojo would genuinely listen when you shared something personal. And as the night goes on, he’d be the one subtly leaning closer, captivated by the words leaving your lips.

Just as you’re considering the night might end, he’d propose a spontaneous adventure — maybe finding the best street food spot nearby or even an impromptu visit to an art exhibit that stays open late.

That’s what’s so interesting about Gojo, he’ll switch things up within a second. You love his want for fun, his spontaneousness because it is a perfect reflection of what you.

SUGURU GETO

Geto’s approach to a first date would be thoughtful and understated, perfect for setting an intimate tone without overwhelming you.

He’d choose a quiet art gallery or museum where the atmosphere is calm. Geto would enjoy walking beside you in the echoing halls, discussing the artwork with surprising depth, sharing his views while gently prompting you to share yours.

He’s curious about how you interpret the world around you and respects each thought you share, offering his own perspectives with gentle understanding.

After the gallery, he’d guide you to a nearby café, where the ambiance is cozy and the lighting dim, perfect for a more personal conversation. He’d order something warm and comforting, possibly recommending a drink or pastry he thinks you’d like.

As you sit across from him, Geto would engage you in deeper conversation, asking about your dreams, fears, and the things you hold close to your heart. His gaze would be soft but piercing, letting you know he’s listening and genuinely cares.

When the evening winds down, Geto would walk you home, his presence warm and protective. He wouldn’t push for more than you’re comfortable with but would leave you with a gentle, reassuring smile and the promise of a next time, his fingers lingering a second longer as he bids you goodnight.

Geto is also the type to wait until you get inside your house for him to leave. He wants to make sure you’re safe

RYOMEN SUKUNA

Sukuna isn’t one for conventional first dates.

He’d take you to a hidden, low-lit sake bar, one with an almost intimidating atmosphere that feels secretive and exclusive.

Sukuna would revel in the idea of introducing you to something more daring, watching you explore unfamiliar territory with him.

From the start, he’d be direct, his eyes holding a confident, predatory glare as he leans back, observing every reaction you give.

There wouldn’t be small talk with Sukuna. He’d jump straight into bold, unfiltered conversation, possibly even flirting with an edge that’s equal parts thrilling and intimidating.

He’d challenge your views, play devil’s advocate, and enjoy every moment you rose to meet his energy, sparking a kind of intellectual and emotional intensity.

Sukuna is the type to test boundaries, not necessarily out of malice, but because he thrives on intensity and wants to see the fire within you.

As the drinks flow and your inhibitions lower, Sukuna’s gaze would turn more possessive. He might pull you close, his hand settling on your lower back as he makes a bold statement or teases you just enough to get under your skin.

By the end of the night, there would be no doubt about his interest — and his desire for you to reciprocate with the same unrestrained passion he brings.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

Toji’s approach would be straightforward yet unexpectedly thoughtful. He wants to leave a good impression, but he wants to be 100% himself.

He’d take you to a classic, unpretentious late-night diner, one where the food is greasy, the lights dim, and the jukebox plays old rock songs.

Toji is a man of simple pleasures, and he’d want to share a slice of his world with you without any pretenses or unnecessary extravagance. As you sit across from him, he’d probably tease you a bit, but his gaze would be steady and assured, a slight softness peeking through his usual gruff exterior.

He would be all up on you, holding you by the waist and put his hand on your lower back. As if you were his already.

He’d order a milkshake or a burger and insist on splitting it with you, claiming, “It tastes better this way.” With Toji, there’d be no need to put up any fronts — he’s someone who values authenticity and would appreciate seeing the real you, no matter how messy or imperfect.

As the night goes on, he’d suggest going for a drive, taking you to a secluded spot with a view of the city lights or a quiet area where you can just talk.

Leaning against the car with him, the silence between you would be comfortable, punctuated by occasional murmured conversation.

Toji would share little fragments of his life, letting you in just enough to feel a deeper connection. He’s not one to rush things, but he’d make it clear he’s interested with a small, knowing smile as he brushes a stray hair from your face before driving you home.

NANAMI KENTO

Nanami’s ideal first date would be elegant, thoughtful, and respectful — a perfect blend of classic romance and quiet sophistication.

He’d choose a small, tucked-away restaurant that he knows and trusts, one where the food is excellent, and the ambiance calm.

He’d make reservations in advance, ensuring everything is just right, and he’d arrive punctually, dressed in his usual refined style that exudes an effortless sense of class.

Nanami would guide you through the menu, recommending dishes he thinks you’d enjoy, his tone considerate and thoughtful.

As the evening progresses, he’d share stories of his travels or reflections on his life, but always in a way that invites you to share about yourself, making you feel truly seen.

Nanami’s interest would be genuine, and his subtle compliments would let you know he appreciates both your intelligence and your grace.

After dinner, he’d walk with you through the quiet streets, perhaps stopping at a quaint bookstore or a small park for a stroll.

Nanami wouldn’t push for anything beyond a respectful goodbye, but he’d leave you with a warm smile, his voice soft as he promises, “Let’s do this again soon.”

CHOSO KAMO

Choso would choose something simple and sweet for a first date, like a quiet evening picnic in a secluded spot with a beautiful view.

He’d prepare some snacks, maybe bringing your favorite treats if he knew about them, and spread out a blanket where you could sit together under the open sky.

With him, the date would be more about the feeling of closeness and the quiet comfort of just being with someone who values you.

Choso is shy but thoughtful, and he’d focus on making you feel comfortable. He might be quiet at first, but his attentiveness would speak volumes, as he carefully listens to everything you say, nodding and offering a gentle smile.

As the stars come out, he’d likely open up about his own past and his love for his family, and he’d be genuinely interested in hearing about your life and dreams.

The evening would end with a soft, warm farewell, Choso promising to see you again soon with a shy yet sincere smile that lingers in your memory long after you part ways.

[takes1]

Some fluff w Koushi maybe?🫶

koushi realizing barista!reader is pretty cute

thanks for the request! this was a cute and refreshing prompt for me <3 much love!!

warnings. none info. sfw / fluff / college!au / coffeeshop!au / simple but cute / suga wears cardigans / timeskip!suga / like imagine english teacher suga pulling a stretchy cardigan over himself ugh so cute / 630 words links. haikyuu collection. masterlist. requests open. my ao3

"Good morning!" A gentle voice blessed your ears.

You smiled without looking up from the register.

Mr. Cardigan's ritual began. Glance over the menu, top-right to the espresso drinks, consider getting a decaf-- of course he won't go with the decaf, it was 7:40 and he was already tapping his foot to get to his 8 a.m class. Then he would decide on his tried and true as if it were a brand new idea:

"Double espresso, steamed milk, sweetened with honey."

He was wearing a face of mild shock, a touch of embarrassment, when you looked up from the order you already input.

"Oh, shit--," You laughed, warm at your slip-up, "I'm so sorry."

"Nono, it's- it's fine," He sported a similar color.

After a moment's hesitation, he chuckled and gave you his card.

Your Monday, Wednesday, Friday shift lined up with everyone who had a MWF 8 a.m (+9, 9:30, 10:00, and 10:30, regrettably). He was one of the few you cared to remember since he was such a cutie and he usually tipped you well.

"It's been a long morning, I get it," He graced you with a smooth forgiveness.

You sighed, relieved, and agreed wholeheartedly.

Spring semester was right at the close. Most were coming in to the Business building's little ground-level cafe early or late to cram for finals. He stayed consistent throughout the past few months, though, with his 7:40 sharp arrival.

7:44 if there was a line, but that was Mondays. Fridays weren't as busy because so many people skipped. But reliable Mr. Cardigan never missed a class.

"Almost done, though," You handed him his card back and spun the tip screen around for him, expecting nothing this time.

"Thank god," He tapped for No Receipt and closed his wallet.

He stood at the counter with his hands crossed in front of him to wait for his drink.

He never noticed how pretty your hands were before today. He looked down at his own kinda stumpy fingers. Then he watched -careful not to come across as creepy- at how gingerly you held the mug to the steam wand while screwing the filter in place.

The urge to talk to you nudged at the back of his throat, but he fell silent when you flipped the switch on.

The espresso machine was always a little too loud to talk over.

It was a graceful background noise to those who studied in this lobby, and a good backdrop to stay quiet to.

This time, he didn't feel as though your usual exchange was natural anymore. He wanted to talk, but didn't know quite how. The usual 4-minute wait felt like ages, but today he wasn't keen on leaving until he spoke to you again.

Your eyes flitted over his when you turned towards the lobby side for the honey.

His broad shoulders tensed and he turned his head to take false interest in some of the artwork on the walls. He didn't realize he was staring so hard.

He wondered how long you had been paying attention to him. If was just habit, or maybe a fondness had been growing and he was always too tired to notice anything other than how well you made his drink.

Now it was impossible not to overthink your friendly customer-service smile, or the smiley face you always put on the side of his cup.

Say something!

He repeated it so many times that his mind had been made unintentionally blank when you held the cup up for him to take over the counter.

"Good luck with finals," You said softly.

When he reached for his latte, your fingertips brushed for the tiniest moment. An intense heat crept up the back of his neck.

A shaky, "You, too," was all he could manage.

masterlist.

requests open.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Shadows Of The Past ~ YJN [MATURE WARNING]

CONTINUATION OF THIS PIECE

WORD COUNT: 5.2K

GENRE: mafia AU, established friendships, friends to lovers, financial trouble, joengin helping the reader, always been there for her but she never knew it, SMUT MINORS DNI, protected sex, public sex (kinda) links into the other stories too ehe epilogue with everyone included <3 

PAIRING: Jeongin X Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

When you'd agreed to go to dinner with Jeongin to talk business you hadn't thought he'd bring you somewhere too sophisticated and fancy and you suddenly felt out of place. You were dressed in your pencil skirt and a white shirt that you were almost sure had stains all over it and everyone in the restaurant looked as though they were dressed for an award ceremony.

The restaurant exuded an air of elegance, its walls adorned with muted artwork that all seemed to be signed by an artist known as "Little Muse" and you felt unease bubbling inside of you. Why did he bring you to such a nice place? 

Soft jazz music drifted through the air, mingling with the clinking of silverware and the murmur of voices.

"Jeongin," You whispered as a waiter took you over to a table, your eyes widening as you saw them pull back some curtains to a private booth the two of you were going to be sitting in.

"Yes?" His eyes landed on you, sending shivers up and down your body something you wish you could shut off instantly. You'd had a crush on him as a kid but it had passed when he moved away, or so you had thought since everything seemed to be coming back up to cause trouble again.

"This is a business dinner, we should go somewhere...I-I don't know, better for business." You stuttered out as you took a seat across from him, your eyes looking down at the table that was draped in a white cloth with candles casting a warm glow on your private booth.

"This place is perfect for business, a friend of mine owns this place so we'll be left alone." He smirked at you, he wanted this to be alone time with you.

After not seeing you for almost 10 years he was desperate for some time alone with you, he hadn't seen you since the two of you were young but his feelings for you remained true.

"Okay, so I was thinking if you're serious about going into business with me-"

"Order something to eat first, you look like you haven't had a proper meal in weeks." You stared at him, a little taken back at just how forward he was with you, how did he know?

You hadn't eaten anything but ramen and something you could scrounge up from the hotel kitchen without being noticed. All of your money went straight back into the hotel, you hadn't even had two coins to rub together as of late but there was no way he could have known that. No one knew about it, not even your employees since you didn't want to have them worry about losing their jobs.

Instead, you cut your payout completely making sure they would still get paid and budgeted whenever you could, even leaving your home so you could sleep in your office. You sighed a little and nervously let your eyes flick over the menu, your eyes catching a glimpse of the prices and you instantly felt sick.

"About this business proposal," You said, your voice uncertain as you refused to look up from the menu.

"Yes, Cupcake?" The nickname made your hands clutch onto the menu. No one had called you that in years, no one but Jeongin had ever called you that and he only called you it because you always made sure to have them to hand if he was around.

Clearing your throat, you tried to shake off the memories that were threatening to overwhelm you. You'd been practically inseparable when you were kids, exploring the hotel together until you knew every inch of that damn place. But then Jeongin moved away when he turned 19, no warning, no letter, nothing he was just gone. Part of you thought he'd died until you were old enough to find out who he was and who his family truly were.

"I want to make sure we're both on the same page," You told him, forcing yourself to focus on the matter at hand.

"I put my heart and soul into this hotel, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to share ownership," You were but you weren't going to come across as too desperate to him. 

Truth was, the hotel was going under and you were left to try and scramble to put it all together. 

When you found out your uncle left you the hotel in the will you'd been over the moon about it. Ever since you were old enough you'd been working in the hotel, starting as a maid until you were promoted again and again till the point where you were practically running the place - your uncle still in charge of the books though. You now realised was because he was losing money left and right, taking out shoddy insurance deals or just flat out refusing to pay for some of the repairs only to do it himself and fuck it up more. 

A bank had recently told you that you'd be better off starting a fire and claiming insurance on the place than getting out a load but you were determined not to give up on the place, not when it had been everything you'd wanted ever since you could remember.

Jeongin's lips curled into a faint smile as he watched you, he knew how much trouble you were in but he wasn't going to let on that he knew. He didn't want you to see this as some sort of pity party, he did this because he loved the place as a kid and couldn't stomach the thought of something happening to it, or to you. 

His men had been watching you since he came into power, he refused to let anyone touch the hotel you had his protection and you didn't even know it. 

"I understand your hesitation, Cupcake. But trust me when I say that together, we could turn that place into something extraordinary." You sighed a little, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass, you knew he was persuasive, and he seemed to be drawing you in against your better judgment. But there was something else lurking beneath the surface, something you couldn't put your finger on.

"What's in it for you, Innie?" Your tone was more assertive now but Jeongin smiled at the nickname you used for him.

"No one's called me that in years." He chuckled softly and you felt your cheeks warming up at how happy it seemed to have made him.

"For me, it's more than business, Cupcake. It's all about reconnecting with an old friend, someone who knew, before all of this." You stared at him, unsure of how to respond to him but luckily a waiter came over to take your order. Jeongin rattled off his choice of food and you couldn't help but admire him from across the table and then he ordered for you. Ordering more food than you'd ever be able to eat but you were grateful for it nevertheless. 

Throughout the meal, you talked about everything and nothing, the easy banter of your childhood friendship slowly resurfacing. And as the evening drew to an end, you found yourself opening up to him in a way you wouldn't have expected to. You still hadn't told him about the money issues, you were scared if he found out too soon he'd bail on you. 

"I'll come by tomorrow with my payment, we'll sign everything with a lawyer," Jeongin told you as you stood outside the hotel, he questioned nothing when you asked him to drop you back here instead of a home which you were more than thankful for.

"That sounds good," You smiled a little, you were still unsure of everything and you weren't sure if you'd be able to trust him but you knew time could only tell that.

The following day when Jeongin showed up he expected to find you at the reception desk waiting for him and he frowned not seeing you standing there. Lowering the bouquet of flowers he got for you he stared at the woman on the front desk.

"Is YN around?" He stared at the woman who nodded frantically. 

"She's probably doing some tasks around the hotel, Miss YLN is a master of all trades." Jeongin hated that you'd resorted to fixing things yourself, he couldn't stomach the thought of something happening to you while you were fixing something.

"Will you make sure these are put in some water and on her desk? I'll try and find her," With that he walked around to try and find you, his footsteps echoing on the marbled floor of the lobby as he made his way to the elevators.

Eventually, he found you in one of the rooms, straightening out the bedsheets while a maid stood shaking in the corner, 

"Did she take over?" Jeongin asked quietly as the maid bobbed her head frantically, and he nodded for her to leave and watched her run off down the corridor. Jeonmgin couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at you, with an amused smile playing on his lips.

"Isn't that the maid's job?" He teased gently, his voice laced with amusement. You glanced up from your work, heat taking over your body. You cleaned whenever you were stressed about something and it seemed you'd hardly stopped since waking up this morning.

"I...Uh...Just felt like doing some cleaning." You mumbled, the truth was you were stressing more now that you knew a lawyer was coming to help you and Jeongin signed everything over. You thought he was going to see the books and run for the hills and you worried you'd be left with nothing. The thought of it had kept you up for most of the night and you'd spent all of your time stress cleaning the entire place. Your office was the cleanest it had been in months and you showed no signs of living there and the toilets on the reception floor were spotless too.

"To relieve stress?" He arched a brow, staring at you as you placed chocolates onto the pillows and brushed your hands down the front of your skirt. The same skirt and shirt you'd been wearing the night before and looked as though you'd slept in, if you'd slept at all. Which judging by the bags under your eyes was a big no. You hated that he could see right through you, you hated that he could tell something was wrong without you saying a thing.

"Maybe." You grumbled a little, pushing the cart out of the room and into the hallway, going to move on to the next room when Jeongin stared at you, freezing you in place. His eyes bored into the side of your head as you let out a small sigh,

"Well, you certainly seem to have everything under control." He remarked, a little admiration in his voice. He was impressed with how well you'd kept the hotel going until now, he knew what his lawyers had found since he'd found it months ago but he said nothing. He knew if you found out about him knowing about the money problems you'd refuse his help, you were stubborn and always had been. 

This deal was to keep the place he loved afloat yes but it was also to stop you from losing something you loved, he wanted you to be happy. He'd do anything in the world to make sure that you were joyful about something. It was the reason this place was still even going, no one was allowed to touch it under his strict rules and no one went against him.

Even some of your high-paying clients had been sent there specifically by Jeongin but it was getting harder to send them when the hotel was going under.

"Just trying to keep things in order." You mumbled, trying to downplay everything as you kept a casual tone.

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the air between you crackled with tension and you felt your throat drying up and your heart beginning to race. Whenever he looked at you like this it made you feel as though all of your problems were melting away, that he would take care of everything.

"Listen, Yn," He began, his voice gentle as he stepped closer to you, his hand gently clasping your elbow and bringing you closer to him. Your steps fumbled a little as you crashed against his chest, your eyes never leaving his as you now felt how hard his heart was racing.

"I know we've got business to attend to, but I want to say...I'm grateful for the chance to reconnect with you..." You nodded at him, not knowing what to say or do, your heart was aching for you to reach out and kiss him but you needed to remain professional. 

"Whatever happens with the hotel, I value what we have more than anything." Your heart fluttered at his words, despite your reservations about all of this you couldn't deny the connection you felt with him.

"Me too, Innie..." You replied softly, a small smile playing on your lips as he leaned down closer to you.

"Boss. The lawyers are downstairs, saying that something is wrong with the books." Your heart shattered into tiny shards, all of which felt as though they were beginning to pierce into your lungs leaving you breathless.

"We'll be right down," Jeongin spoke coldly, his hands holding onto you as you scrambled to get away from him.

"We should go downstairs," You mumbled, refusing to look at him and he missed the time you had before this.

"Yn." He tried to call out but you were already making a B-line for the staircase without looking back in his direction.

In your office the tension hung heavy in the air as Joengin sat across from you, flanked by his team of lawyers. Your hands were shaking as you stared at one of the mn,

"I'm sorry, Yn, but the numbers don't lie." One of them said gravely, you'd been introduced but didn't bother to learn either of their names since you knew this was all going to fall through.

"The hotel is haemorrhaging money, and if we don't act fast, it's going to sink further into debt." He explained, sliding the papers over to you as you stared down at the maths you'd already been working out long before they came into the scene, 

"Our recommendation is to cut our losses and walk away while we still can." The other one said to Jeongin but his jaw tightened, his expression unreadable as he absorbed everything.

"Innie, I know this looks bad but...I-I can fix it. I can get another loan." You tried to scramble for something, anything to keep him from walking away from this.

"Every bank has turned her down." The lawyer stated coldly, making your blood boil as you turned to face him,

"I'll fire some staff, make more cutbacks. I'll stop paying myself." You weren't telling them that you'd already done that, you just needed to buy some time to get him to stay.

"You haven't been paying yourself for months, you've been sleeping in your office." The second lawyer stated making you stare at him, wondering how long he'd been watching you for them to know all of this.

"You've been watching me?!" You snapped at the lawyer who looked as though you'd just bitten his head off. 

"Sir, we recommend walking away." They both stated, standing up slowly as you stared at Jeongin, your eyes pleading with his. A knot formed in the pit of your stomach, the weight of the situation pressing down on your shoulders.

"I'm not walking away." He declared, his gaze locked on yours, your heart thumping rapidly against your chest.

"I made a commitment to Yn and I intend to honor it. We'll find a way to turn this around, no matter what it takes." He told the cooly. The lawyers exchanged incredulous glances, clearly taken back by Jeongin's stubbornness.

"With all due respect, Sir, this isn't a wise investment." One of them insisted.

"You'll be throwing good money after bad." Jeongin shook his head at them, he didn't care what they said he wasn't going to walk away from any of this. They were only here to oversee the signing of everything, everything they found was everything knew already and didn't care about.

"I'm not in this for the money. I'm in this because Yn is my friend, and I won't abandon her when she needs me most. We'll figure out a solution together, even if it means taking risks." You felt a surge of gratitude swell within you, a lump forming in your throat at his unwavering loyalty. Despite the odds stacked against you, he was still willing to stay by your side and you knew you had a fighting chance. 

"T-Thank you...I-I don't know what I'd do without you." Your voice choked up a little and he smiled at you,

"You don't have to worry anymore Yn, I'll always have your back, no matter what," He told you reassuringly, with that the lawyers got out the papers and you all began signing. Jeongin put down more money than he needed but he was willing to do it for you. 

As the night stretched on, you and Jeongin found yourselves huddling together in your office, poring over the financial reports, and brainstorming ideas to salvage the hotel.

"We can have more functions held here, a friend of mine is having a wedding soon and I'm sure I can sway him to holding it here," He stated as you stared at him in complete awe. All night long you'd found yourself staring at him more and more. 

"Sure. It's been a while since a wedding was at the "Celestial"." You giggled at the thought. You'd always loved hosting weddings but everything had died down when you didn't have enough staff to work the events.

"I can bring in other servers and we can slowly build everything back up," Jeongin smiled proudly of himself and you stared at him. The air crackled with tension as you thought back to your moment in the hallway earlier but you quickly went back to scribbling notes onto a pad. Your mind races with ideas other than weddings, you could host parties, charity balls, or anything you wanted.

Jeongin leaned in close, his presence comforting and yet electrifying all at once. You slowly looked up to meet his gaze and linger a little more than necessary. The years of unspoken longing bubbling to the surface, your defences crumbling like sandcastles in the side. Jeongin's hand reached out tentatively, cupping your cheek as he brushed his thumb along your skin. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding against your chest as you leaned into his touch.

"Innie," You breathed out, your voice barely coming out above a whisper as you searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation. But he said nothing, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that ignited a firestorm inside of you.

In that stolen moment, time seemed to freeze around you as you melted into each other, the weight of your unspoken desire finally finding a release. You wrapped your arms around Joengin's neck as he pulled you onto his lap, your lips moving together in a silent promise of love and devotion. 

"I-Innie," You breathed out as you broke apart, completely breathless and dizzy with desire, you knew that you wanted him badly.

"Sofa," You whispered, kissing down his neck and softly biting into his skin as you moved together toward the sofa. Jeongin carefully set you down on the sofa and sank to his knees in front of you, 

"Yn, are you sure?-"

"Yes...Just please, touch me." You begged him, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips as he slowly rolled your skirt up your hips.

"I've wanted to fuck you ever since I saw this skirt," He moans out, kissing up your thighs until he reaches your underwear, yanking them down in one swift movement, your heart hammered against your chest.

"R-Really?" You felt your body heating up as he wrapped your legs around his shoulders, dragging you to the edge of the sofa quickly.

"Don't act shocked, Cupcake. I've always wanted you," He said plainly as if it was common knowledge for you to know but you'd never had any idea that he did.

"You never said anything to me when we were last together," You battled back with him but he smirked,

"I was planning on it before I was yanked away from you,"

"You never wrote." You mumbled to him, it wasn't the time to get into this now when you were laid bare in front of him but you wanted answers.

"Orders from dad, no contact."

"But-"

"Will you let me eat your pussy? I'm fucking starving, Cupcake." He growled out before you nodded, giggling a little but it was quickly replaced by a gasp as he ran his tongue up your slit. His mouth was hot and wet as he slowly ran his tongue against you, building you up as he ate you out like a man starved. Your head rolled back against the back of the sofa as you cried out his name. You couldn't remember the last time you'd slept with someone or even made yourself feel come but Jeongin was already better than any memory you had.

"F-Fuck," You hiss out, your hips slowly grinding against him as he hummed against your clit, vibrations chilling up and down your spine, as you cry out his name.

"I-Innie," You moaned out, raking your fingers through his hair and pushing him deeper into you, his tongue swirling around your clit as he slowly pushed two fingers into you. Thrusting them slowly and softly, curling them to that one spot that made your head spin. 

"Just like that," You plead with him, your heels digging into his shoulder blades as you feel the tension building deep inside of you. Jeongin pressed himself closer to you, humming against your clit until it was too much your orgasm hit you suddenly, your legs shaking around him as he smirked.

"Good fucking girl," He groans, standing up and chuckling as you quickly removed his belt, throwing it against the room and pulling down his pants.

"Please," You beg as he lays you down on the sofa, kissing you softly as he carefully lines himself up at your entrance, your legs carefully wrapping around his waist.

"You're so hot when you beg." He moans out as he slowly pushes into you, filling you to the hilt as you let out a strangled moan. He was bigger than you'd been expecting and you whimpered a little,

"M-move," You urged, bucking your hips a little to let him know he was good to move and he smiled kissing you roughly as he slowly pulled out of you, only to slam back in a second later.

"F-Fuck yes!" You cry out, your eyes screwed shut as you clutched onto him, trying to adjust to his size as he continued to pound into you. His cock driving into you, hitting that one spot that made you scream louder. Your nails dragged down his back as you searched for something to cling onto, ripping holes into his shirt as your head rolled back in complete ecstasy.

"Jeongin!" You moan out, your clit grinding against him on every stroke of his cock, the pressure building inside of you hitting near its breaking point.

"Cum for me, cupcake. Let me feel you," He moans out, his thrusting getting faster as you finally felt the pressure snap and you came around his cock violently, causing your back to arch away from the sofa. 

"S-Shit, Yn." He groans, unable to hold himself back anymore as he thrusts into you, slowly coming undone inside of you as you lay there. The wind knocked out of both of you as you let out small chuckles at one another.

Wrapped in each other's arms, you lay on the sofa together, the warmth of your embrace serving as a sanctuary from the outside world. Jeongin's fingers gently traced patterns along your back,

"My dad never wanted me to contact you after we moved away. He said it was best to leave the past behind us," He finally told you, his words hesitant.

"I regretted it every day...Losing touch with you was like losing a piece of myself. But now that I have you back in my life, I never want to let go." A smile tugged on his lips and tears brimmed in your eyes at the weight of his words.

"Innie..." You whispered, your voice cracking a little. Jeongin pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, 

"I love you, Yn. I've loved you since we were kids, and I'll love you for the rest of my days." Tears spilt down your cheeks as you clung to him, your heart overflowing,

"I love you too, Innie." You confessed, 

"I always have and I always will," You finished as he kissed your lips softly. In that moment, as you lay close to one another, you knew your love was a force to be reckoned with. That no matter what, with him by your side, you'd be able to overcome any obstacle that stood in your way. 

"I want this place spotless!" You called out to the event hall of your hotel, everyone inside was rushing around at the last second to make sure everything was perfect for you. You placed your hand on your stomach and watched as one of your guards - Carlos - made his way over to you with some snacks,

"You're going to make it obvious," You mumbled to him as you took the crisps from him and started to eat from the packet. It seemed as though ever since you'd hit the 6-week mark of your pregnancy you'd been craving crisps or anything that was savoury and Carlos had been the man to help you. Mostly because he was the only other person who knew about it and he only knew because he found you crying in your office whilst holding the stick.

I think it should be obvious. Too much stress isn't good for the baby and have you told Mr Yang yet?" Carlos was far too comfortable with you, you thought maybe it was time to switch him for another guard but you'd grown comfortable with him also and you enjoyed your talks together.

"No." You mumbled with a mouthful of crisps, shaking your head at him. All week long he'd been trying to get you to tell Jeongin about the pregnancy but you were nervous about it. It had only been a few months since the two of you got together and you knew if he found out he was only going to stop you from working Jisung's wedding that your hotel was hosting and that was the last thing you wanted.

Everything you and Jeongin had been working toward was here and you weren't going to let someone else take the reigns on this.

"Don't you think you should?" He raised his brow at you but you mumbled what he said back to him in a mocking tone and walked toward your office. You opened the door and stared at Carlos with a weak smile,

"I'll tell him when the time is right after the wedding is over." You shrugged not realising that Jeongin was standing inside of your office and Carlos held back the smirk. He'd known about Jeongin coming to visit you and it was his intention to try to get him to overhear everything,

"Tell who what when the time is right?" You cringed as you heard Jeongin and you glared at Carlos.

"You're a backstabber and I hate you." You mumbled slamming the door in his face and making your way toward the chair behind your desk.

"Is there something I should know?" Jeongin chuckled, watching you closely as you shook your head

"No. It's nothing, it's just Carlos worrying for nothing." You hated the fact that you were lying to your boyfriend but you needed to make sure you worked this wedding. You'd been planning it for months now and you weren't going to let Jeongin or anyone else take it away from you, not when it was the first wedding in years.

"Is it about your pregnancy?" Your hand paused midway to your mouth and the crisps fell from your grasp,

"How-" Your heart sank as you thought about him finding out through someone else but you. The last thing you ever wanted was for him to be upset but he didn't seem it in the slightest, in fact, he seemed rather happy.

"Please, you've been eating crisps non-stop, you're throwing up and not to mention some of the maids were gossiping about it when they found the test in your trash." Jeongin had known for weeks and at first, he was a little upset that you hadn't come to him but he could understand why.

"Those little rats," You mumbled to yourself, sighing and looking at him, suddenly feeling the guilt take over you as you whimpered a little.

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd stop me working." You defend but Jeongin eyes you up closely

"Did I though?" He smirked, raising a brow at you. Sure, at first he wanted to stop you from doing everything but he knew that would only make you worse and neither of you wanted that.

"Well, no, but-"

"I won't stop you working but as soon as I see you stressing that's when I'll put a stop to things." He reached his hand over the desk and squeezed yours softly, 

"Thank you," You whispered, smiling a little as you thought about it.

"Jisung and his bride-to-be are waiting for us in the Restaurant," They were waiting to go over a final plan and you had a special surprise for them as well. You'd been working with a private contractor for a few weeks making sure that the honeymoon suite was perfect for them and it was finally complete which you were going to show them around after food.

The sun dipped below the horizon casting a warm glow over the gardens of your hotel you watched as your daughter ran toward Changbin's son - Rath - who was quickly running away from her.

"Your son is a nousense." Jeongin grumbled, his arms folded against his chest as your daughter continued to chase Rath through the gardens yelling for him to wait for her.

"Your daughter is the one with the crush, it's not my son." Changbin laughed as he wrapped his arms around his wife, your head shaking as the two men began to bicker back and forth with one another. It felt good to have nights like this together.

You found yourself close with all seven of the other wives Jeongin's friends were married to, each of you helping raise each other's kids or just being close friends, it was a bond that could never be broken.

"Wait till he hears that Jisung's son wants to date his daughter." Chan laughed loudly causing Changbin to yell louder and in Jisung's direction this time. You giggled a little lacing your fingers with Jeongin's as you listened to all the children laugh as they played games in the garden and you couldn't think of a better place to be than right here.

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[justporo]

Date night with Astarion and Tav

I just had an idea. Astarion and Tav go on a night out... But it's a game they play: make it as bougie and flamboyant as possible - without spending a single piece of gold.

You start by stealing each other outfits - or maybe convincing the store clerk that you paid for it already; maybe even returning it after date night to get "your" gold back

You go to one of those restaurants that only do reservations months in advance, convincing the waiter that "of course we have a reservation, do you not know who we are??", then striding in as if you owned the place after you've caused a colossal scene, all heads already turning to you

Ordering the most expensive bottle of wine off the menu and the most expensive dish (although of course Astarion doesn't take one bite) then putting it on the tab of someone whose name you just picked up somewhere or just making a one up on the spot that sounds so important and complicated that no one dares to deny you - or just pretending you don't speak the language and are foreign nobility

You'll have to make run though before you're being found out; surely you're not creating a distraction by knocking over this priceless vase, are you? Or by throwing Astarion's untouched steak to the spoilt lap dogs over at another table causing absolute chaos?

You run or sneak out of there: but not without stealing another bottle of that fine wine (or two)

Bonus points if Astarion has lightened someone's load of jewellery at some point and presents you with a nice gift while running off; "Now's not the time, Astarion!" "That's so bland of you, darling, there's always time for presents!"

Astarion taking you somewhere else after making it out of there "because the night is still young, my heart, we're both beautiful and not at all drunk yet"

He takes you to an art museum and without any real effort picks the lock and you stroll through the empty tall halls looking at the artworks while taking swigs of wine from the stolen bottle

Astarion cannot stop infodumping on you about the paintings and statues; you don't understand a single thing but think it's adorable and you do actually learn a lot

Since no one is there to stop you, you dodge under the ropes, look at the paintings up close, make a game of imitating the faces and postures until you both die laughing

Astarion making you stand on a pedestal where a statue is currently missing from display, then looking at you as if he was taking in an renowned artwork: "Ah yes, my favourite piece of art, so exquisite!"

In turn you make him pose next to one of those noble portrait paintings and call him "the most beautiful thing ever created"; he grins and makes a stupid joke but you're pretty sure you see the pointy tips of his ears turn a little pink

You end the night by climbing onto the roofs of the city somewhere, sit there with what's left of the stolen wine, maybe play a drinking game, sitting there in your fine stolen clothes and watch the night slowly become less dark while your hearts are filled with light

I -uh- *puts it on the pile of fics I have to write* *sighs* This was mean to become like a headcanon post - it became the outline of a fic somehow, oop

[paladin-heart5]

New Perfume

Leon Kennedy x reader smut

A/n: y'all omg I did it! This is like my second smut (ever) so please be gentle. I feel pretty good about it, but I apologize for repetitive words, I'm working on breaking that habit. Thank you and enjoy:)

Word count: 2.2k

CW: smut, uses of sir and slut, pheromone perfume, praise and a lil degrading, mentions of porn, some aftercare and a lotta love

The doorbell of you and Leon's apartment rang through, causing you to jump up. You rushed to the door and opened it to find a small package. You smiled and grabbed it, excitedly going to the bathroom. Today is your second anniversary with Leon, and you thought you'd try something new. You've seen around the internet there's this pheromone perfume, it's supposed to attract your partner or something like that. You wanted to give it a try, see if Leon will get all possessive, you love when he keeps you close.

Currently your boyfriend is at work, and you have the apartment all clean. Leon wanted to take you out to dinner tonight, so you take a shower and put on a beautiful purple dress that hugs your curves. You decide to go with a simple hairstyle, but add a cute head piece to make the look. Finally, you put on some makeup, and spray the perfume on your neck just to test the waters. It does smell nice, it's floral with a hint of vanilla. Looking in the mirror, you smile, feeling good about yourself. Perfect timing too, your boyfriend is home.

You head to the living room and see Leon shrugging off his jacket. He lets out a grunt as he stretches. You smile and go to greet him, he hears you and hums. “Hey baby, how's it going?” He looks up only to freeze at the sight of you. You're gorgeous, absolutely ravishing. He swears he has literal heart eyes. You blush at his stare, but keep up the sweet smile.

“Great now that you're here! I missed you so much!” You bounce a bit, holding your arms out for a hug. Leon snaps out of his daze and chuckles. 

“I missed you too, baby. Happy anniversary.” He goes to hold you close to him. Immediately, he is met with the new, powerful aroma that you carry. It causes him to pause, he then digs his face into your neck to get a better smell. You giggle at this, his nose tickling you. He pulls you closer, “new perfume?” He asks with a low tone. You smile and nod.

“Happy anniversary! I found it online and it sounded really nice. Thought I'd try something new. Do you like it?” You explain softly, keeping the important part out. Leon grips your hips slightly and hums in acknowledgement. You eventually try to pull away from him, but he huffs. 

“You need to get ready for our dinner date, my love.” You say to him as you finally get out of his grasp. He groans and goes to get ready. He definitely rushes, not wanting to be away from you for too long. You smile, this is working better than you thought.

~~~~

Once you and Leon enter the restaurant, you look around at the decor. It's a pretty fancy place, with chandeliers, and candles at each table. Artwork of food and families eating together. Thankfully it's not too busy, and with the reservation Leon set, you both are quickly led to a booth. You both sit and take a look at the menu, Leon holding your hand the whole time. His possessive side was definitely showing. You relax and pick out what you want to eat. Your boyfriend orders a bottle of white wine for the both of you. You both talk about each other's days, and some future plans to spend more time together like this. With Leon going on missions a lot, and you having an inconsistent schedule recently, you were lucky to have the chance to be here. The waiter brings the wine and takes down your orders. Once he leaves, you see a gentleman staring at you from one of the other booths. You don't pay much mind to it.

“I don't like the way he's watching you.” Leon speaks up, having a slight growl in his tone. You're surprised he noticed so quickly, even though he's always been observant. You squeeze his hand.

“It's nothing to worry about, Lee. Let's enjoy our night, hm? Oh! I spoke to my boss about the new position I'm looking into, it'll give me a better schedule and good pay! She seems to be seriously considering it.” You smile excitedly. Leon returns the smile and kisses your hand, still drawn to your scent. 

“That's wonderful, baby. I promise I'm going to try making more time for you too.” He says softly, gazing into your beautiful eyes. 

“That would be amazing, but I don't want you getting in trouble, my love.” You hum softly, rubbing his knuckles with your thumb. He simply scoffs.

“You don't have to worry about that.” The two of you continue to talk as you eat and drink your wine. You feel yourself grow more relaxed, rambling about life. Leon watches you with admiration, mostly listening, but he responds when he thinks it's appropriate.

After an hour or so, you both leave the restaurant. You laugh at Leon's jokes as you stumble in your heels. He holds you up, keeping his arm around your waist. He smiles and kisses your head. As you approach the car, you hear a man call out. Turning your head, you see the guy that was watching you earlier. He's heading towards you, but Leon keeps you behind him. The guy smiles and looks at you before your boyfriend.

“Evening, the name's Carter Dame, you two look like a beautiful couple. I want to hire you as a model, which could mean a lot of money. I could make you stars.” The man, Carter, hands you a card. You raised a brow as you read it. 

“You mean.. porn stars?” You ask in confusion, Leon blinks.

“Yeah that's not happening.” He states, getting you into the car, Carter steps forward.

“I assure you we'll do anything you'd like to make ya comfortable. Your little lady there will capture quite the audience-” 

“Absolutely not, she's mine. I don't plan on sharing in any way.” Leon snaps, he then gets into the car and starts it. You look at him in surprise, you feel your cheeks heat up and your stomach twist. You don't hear him talk like that often, but boy was it hot. The man has a look of defeat as he steps aside, but still mouths ‘call me’ to you as Leon drives off. You both sit quietly on the way home, Leon isn't touching you though. He hasn't let go of you all night, but the lack of touch worries you. 

You both arrive home and he steps out of the car. Your boyfriend goes over to your side and grabs your hand. He gets you out of the vehicle and drags you inside. You try to keep up with him while in your heels. He unlocks the door and steps in.

“Leon, are you alright?” You ask as you shut the door. Next thing you know, Leon has you pinned to the door. He kisses you roughly, a noise escaping you in the process.

“You really didn't think I'd notice?” He asks with a growl, you feel yourself become wet.

“What- what do you mean?” You ask confused. He smirks and chuckles lowly.

“I saw the perfume in the bathroom. You just wanted some attention didn't you?” He grips your hips before feeling up your ass. “I played along for the most part, but you better believe I mean it when I say I'm not sharing you. You're mine.” He starts attacking your neck with kisses and sucking. You moan and grip his hair. 

“S-sorry, Leon. Just.. just want you.” You whimper as he leaves hickeys on you. Another deep chuckle escapes him. He lifts you up bridal style and carries you to your shared bedroom.

“Bastard thinks he can make you a porn star, like hell. You're my little slut, aren't you baby?” You can feel the rumble in his chest as he speaks, at this rate, you're soaked.

“Yes sir, all for you.” You answer meekly, he smiles and kisses your head, laying you on the bed.

“Good girl.” He whispers, rubbing his hand under your dress. You bite your lip, kicking off your heels. Leon then goes back to kissing you. As he gets down to your collarbone, he starts to strip you. You let him do so, also taking off his shirt in return. The sight of his toned body never ceases to amaze you. If the Lord is real, he did good with this one. You can't seem to look away from him.

“Like what you see, babygirl?” Leon snaps you out of your thoughts. You nod eagerly and feel him up.

“You're so handsome.” You whisper, kissing his chest. He chuckles and lifts your chin. 

“And you, my dear, are breathtaking.” He speaks seductively, pulling you into a heated kiss. You moan, letting his tongue dance with yours. A ripple of goosebumps flows over your skin. Heat builds in your core, along with the heat of your touching bodies. The blonde caresses your cheek as he parts, he then takes off his bottoms. You drool at the sight of his dick, it's got more girth than length, veins visible. He strokes himself a few times, smirking at you.

“Ready baby?” He tilts his head curiously, you whine out a ‘yes sir’ as you spread your legs for him. He slides off your panties, watching as your pussy glistens in the light. His blue eyes darken, slowly running his fingers through your folds. You moan at the touch and he makes a tsk sound in response.

“Already so sensitive.” He takes his dick and starts to run you with it, your leg kicks slightly every time he runs over your clit. “Who do you belong to, hm?” Leon questions, teasing you. You whimper and rock your hips, yearning for him to be inside you. He only holds you waist down. 

“You.. Leon.” You breathe out, connecting your hands. Your boyfriend smiles and slowly inserts himself. You arch your back, eyes fluttering at the feeling of being filled.

“That's right, such a pretty little slut for me.” He growls, bottoming out in you. He waits a couple of minutes for you to adjust, holding both of your hands on the sides of your head. You take the time to admire him, his strong jaw, his beautiful eyes. The way his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, you can tell he's holding back.

“You can move.” You whisper, lifting your head to kiss his nose. He softens a bit at this, a smile evident. He almost pulls out completely before slamming back in, which earns a gasp from you. He keeps a steady pace, groaning as he watches you. Squeezing his hands, you wrap your legs around his waist; wanting to be as close as possible. The sounds of skin slapping and breathy moans echo throughout the room. Your eyes are full of lust and admiration, hair all over the pillow beneath. Leon has a bit of sweat worked up, quiet groans escaping every now and then. How he can easily slide in and out of you, warm and tight. It's intoxicating.

“I love you.” He leans down to kiss your jaw. You smile and tilt your head a bit for him. You so badly want to hold his head, run your fingers through his hair, but you enjoy the hand holding. This form of intimacy really makes your heart skip a beat.

“I love you too, Leon. Please..” You whimper, feeling the familiar tingle of your approaching orgasm. He smirks, deciding he wants to tease.

“Please what, babygirl?” You huff and squeeze his hands, beginning to lose your mind from the pleasure. “Aww, looks like you're losing yourself baby. Focus on me.” He coos, letting go of one of your hands to rub your hip. You whimper some more.

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl.” How could you not respond to his praise? You just want to be his good girl.

“I-I wanna.. cum!” You moan out, trying not to let go of yourself without his permission. He chuckles, letting your free hand grip onto his shoulder.

“Go ahead then, baby. I'll follow.” He urges you, the way he groans as he gets closer makes you snap. Your eyes roll back as you tense up, letting yourself moan loudly as you cum. Leon feels you clench around him, his thrusting becoming sloppy. He curses as he cums right after you, a few more deep thrusts as he fills you. He then falls on top of you, holding you close as you both pant. You hold his head close to your chest, the feeling of his soft, blonde hair bringing you down from your high. Your boyfriend looks up at you and smiles, leaving quick kisses up to your lips.

“Are you okay, my love?” He asks softly, beginning to slide out of you. You let out a whine at the emptiness, but smile at him.

“Yeah, thank you, Leon.” You hold out grabby hands, and Leon laughs a bit.

“You're so cute. Alright, bath time.” He hums, lifting you up and carrying you to the bathroom. He sits you on the side of the tub and gets a warm bath set up. You simply admire him, happiness coursing through your mind.

“I'm so lucky to have you, I'm never letting you go.” You say with a sweet smile. Leon looks at you and raises a brow. 

“Oh yeah? I feel the same way, baby. You're all mine.” That perfume was so worth it.

[petite-madame]

I just found again your account. I first saw your art when I was a teenager. And its been a while. Your art has felt like coming back to a brewed coffee and some pastries. Winter wind blowing against the coffee shop windows.

It feels like coming back home to fandoms i used to adore. And look at it fondly, in a nostalgic lense. You've worked very hard and honed your skill. I'm proud of how long you've been drawing and how you provided such joy and excitement in so many people. Heck even just sparked a glint in their eye whilst being on the internet.

Tu est merveilleuse. Tu as tellement contribué pour les fandoms. Merci énormément ♡

Hi anon ^^

First, I apologize it took me so long to answer. Messages kept piling up and it took me time to reach yours. 😳

This is one of the kindest messages I ever received. Not that other messages are not kind or sincere, or that I don't enjoy receiving or reading them but...you see what I mean ? 😳 Comparing my art and the feeling it brings you to "coming back to a brewed coffee and some pastries. Winter wind blowing against the coffee shop windows." is so...so poetic ? And strong ? And it talks to me, you see ? The nostalgia, the feels. 😭

It's really funny because I received a message from another anon who told me they hadn't "seen (my) art for years but it randomly came across (their) dash and (they) recognized the style right away" and I compared the experience to finding out that an old restaurant you used to go to as a kid was still open. That's me, I'm the restaurant, this little coffee shop that still tries to bring you good pastries. 🥳Sometimes, the menu changes a bit but it's still the same recipe and the same owner, who starts to get a bit old, but who is still enthusiastic about the new cakes available in his tiny shop.

I'm proud of how long you've been drawing and how you provided such joy and excitement in so many people.

I've always drawn, I think I will carry on as much as I can. And even if I draw for me (almost like a compulsion, a need), it's messages like yours that makes me carry on sharing my art on the internet because even if I have a "successful coffee shop", sometimes, I can't help thinking about some drawings I do "Nah, nobody's going to care about this one". 🤓 I forget about it but then, sometimes a few weeks later, I post the art and I receive messages from people telling me I made their day, that they were having a bad time but that my art cheered them up. It's incredible, right ? Someone is having a bad day in Milwaukee or Jakarta and me, and my stupid little "bakeries" helped them smile (*) for a couple of minutes. I think it's fantastic. So even if as an artist I love to share what I do, sometimes when I think that "nobody cares", I think about some random people and the possible positive outcome that my art can produce.

(*) Sometimes, I make people cry too because of death art and pretty angsty illustrations but that's another story. You're welcome, by the way 🤓

Of course, my artworks are not masterpieces, I'm not starting a pictural revolution, it's just TV show and movie characters doing "random stuff" but if these artworks that will be forgotten in 10 minutes will make someone smile just a couple of seconds at some point in time then, it was worth it. I guess. I hope so. (And sometimes, it's more than a couple of seconds because some people put my art as their desktop wallpaper or phone background. How awesome is that ? 🤩🥳)

Anyway, I'm rambling. 🙃🙃🙃 Thank you so much for this amazing message and for enjoying my art all these years. (Because I write, I write but I didn't even thank you!!)

I wish you a great weekend and I hope that you'll stop by my coffee shop again. 💗