#this job is sitting and they have someone who will do the speaking for me so... it'll be a stretch but honestly the bigger concern

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request Hi, I love your writing! Could you please update either "Danny's grill", "Congratulations! It's Triplets!" or "Phantom's number 1 fan"? Please and thank you

Jason is once again reviewing the map of potential areas Alvin could have been operating in when his burner phone rings. He snatches it up before it can pass the fourth ring, pressing it gently against his ear.

He offers no greeting. It's a tactic he uses to ensure that whoever is calling him has permission to do so. If someone attempts to conform his informants' and allies connection with him, Jason is not about to give them away by speaking first.

"Hey Boss," Honeycomb's voice filters through, edged by that familiar overdramatic southern draw she did when working. Apparently, the clients like listening to her use her accent. "I got eyes on that doll you've been searching for."

Jason sits up straighter. "Where and when?"

Honeycomb is one of the working girls who's been with him since his return to Gotham. She was the first to sign up for his protection, long before he did the whole heads in a duffle bag thing, and was one of his best eyes and ears on the street in exchange.

He didn't know her real name or age- but he was sure she wasn't underage. He made it clear he wouldn't allow it. All Jason knew about Honeycomb was that she had run away from her home in the southern states with nothing but her pretty face, blond curls, hazel eyes, and the clothes on her back.

She was feisty and could charm her way out of most problems with her silver tongue. Her manipulation of her clients was almost an art form, and she could get any information out of anyone with a well-placed hand on the air and a sweet little "darling" on her grubby lips. He often thought she would have been a lawyer if life had been fair to her.

"Just now, on Ruby Street. He was with a man in his late teenage to early twenties. About six feet five inches, black hair, blue eyes, and Caucasian. Alvin was wearing black tights and a red hoodie. The man is in jeans and a white zip-up." Honeycomb rattles in one smooth report, the huskiness of her accent making her articulation more pleasant to the ear. "Seems they were doing a photo shoot."

Jason is already moving towards his bike, switching her call to his helmet. His stomach turns slightly as he grunts, "What kind of photoshoot?"

"Not that kind, Darling. Seemed more like a scavenger hunt, according to Alvin. They are finding specific landscapes and making posses that are answers to some riddles." Honeycomb responds. Distantly, her heels clicking against the concrete echo a little louder, letting Jason know she has wandered into an alley. "I approached Alvin when the man with him went up a fire escape to take a picture with a gargoyle. I offered him my service to him as a cover. Once he confirmed his name was Alvin and he was already with a client, I left before he could get the idea I was attempting to steal his work."

"Good job." Jason boots up his bike, flying out of his hideout without hesitation. He was still twenty minutes away from Ruby Street, but if the pair was going to be a moment, he could close the distance between them and find a trail to follow once on scene.

He questions as he flies through two lanes, ignoring the honking of angry divers. "How did Alvin look? He's supposed to be with one of my contacts, so if he's with someone, it might be a John roughing him up."

I'll deal with Victorian later. He mentally swears How dare he not tell me, Alvin went back to the field after hiding out for so long without a ounce of protection.

"The sweetheart doesn't seem hurt, but I can tell his client is one of those problematic kinds." Honeycombs sighs, the edges of unease slipping into her voice. "He looks at Alvin like he's in love."

Shit. It's never suitable for working folks to meet someone who "loves" them. Nine out of ten times, it was just a wacko who became violent the moment the prostitute so much as hinted that this was only a job to them. Jason had pulled out three women's bodies from the Brown River the last time one of those clients fell in love.

Jason pressed harder on the accelerator. "Are they still there?"

Honeycomb hums "The John is on the roof now, but Alvin is waiting for him under the street pole-Oh shit!"

Jason nearly slams into a nearby car at her sudden yell. "What happened?"

She doesn't answer, but he can pick up the sound of her running and her fast breathing. He knows she is getting out of danger because if there is one thing Honeycomb is as a person, she's a survivor. He wants answers but would rather she focus on getting herself safe first.

He meanwhile, concentrates on the phone calls and the vehicles he's flying between.

It's a few minutes before she gasps. "Sorry, Darling, I had to run. Batman was on the roof with the John."

What.

"Batman just appeared out of nowhere and threw a bucket of mud at the john. Alvin didn't seem to notice, but I did. Batman made eye contact with me, so I ran." She concludes, pushing through her uneven breathing. "I have to go, Darling. Hideout before the Bats lock me up."

"That's alright. Stay safe." Jason tells her, taking a turn sharply as she hangs up the call without another word. The second she does, he double-taps his helmet to connect to the Bat communications.

"Barbie. I need to know what B is up to now."

_________________________________________________________

Bruce watches the Fae shake the mud out of his face after he has scrambled down the fire escape. Tim was at his side in a second, using a handkerchief to gently clean up the Fae's face.

There were a lot of whispered words, but based on what Bruce could pick up from lip reading, Tim had no idea he was up here. He just assumed the Fae got caught up in a juvenile prank.

Oddly enough, that was primarily due to the Fae covering for Bruce.

It was rather disappointing the repealing spell hadn't worked, but the Justice League Dark the mixture of John's Wort, primroses, and marsh marigolds mushed together with water socked in iron during the full moon should have made it possible to force the contact with Tim to break down.

Of course, this had been a desperate attempt, seeing as all the JL Dark had been unsure which method was best when he asked how to get a Fae to leave a human alone.

A lot of debate went into finding a solution, but in the end, Bruce had chosen a mixture repellent. He had even decided to use some holy water and trough in blessed soil and blessed iron just to make it extra powerful.

The magic users had all assured him it would work as long as it touched the Fae skin while Bruce chanted Tim's full legal name. It had felt rather ridiculous dragging a bucket half the size of himself through the city, trying to spot where Tim and his companion were, and even more so when he had sprinted across the rooftop screaming.

"Timothy Jackson Drake! Timothy Jackson Drake! Timothy Jackson Drake!"

The Fae had been in the middle of taking a photo. He set up his camera on a little tripod and, after pressing the time, had run to face the city- back facing Bruce- raising his arms to form a triangle above his head. Based on fact the camera was slightly lower then the Fae's torso, Bruce could deduct her was attempting to capture himself making the triangle top of one of the most iconic buildings in Gotham.

Spear tower.

He waited only long enough for the flash to go off, so by the time the Fae turned around, he had a face full of mud.

It splat all over his front, covering every inch of what should have set Tim free. The silence followed was louder than anything Bruce had ever heard, even as the Fae calmly picked up his camera and scurried to the ground.

Bruce let him go, wondering why he had failed. Thankfully, it seemed Tim and the Fae were getting back in their car- not the food truck for some reason- and were driving away.

Tonight, Bruce would find its lair and get his son home because letting him take a relaxing vacation was alarming to the rest of his children.

He rushed to the Batmobile, climbing into the driver seat and taking off after the pair. As he was driving, he could have sworn Jason just passed by him, moving like the devil was after him.

Bruce wondered briefly if he should check in on his third oldest but thought better of it when he noticed Cass, Dick, and Duke driving right behind Jason on their own bikes. His children had each other backs.

A few hours later, Bruce stood before a large empty field. He had watched the Fae drive into it and vanish from sight. None of his machines could pick up any hint on where they might have gone, but he was reasonably sure there wasn't any teleportation involved.

Sometimes teleportation left some traces in the airwaves. It's how Bruce could track people using the boom tub or find the Flash whenever Barry went on a craze.

Bruce was thinking that this was the Fae's court and his magical home was being protected by supernatural means. He just had to figure out how to get in and Tim out.

As he was considering the field, a soft, distant roar made him reach for his weapons. He turns one hand poise for a throw, his trusted batarangs in between his fingers, only to become surprised when he recognizes the vehicles driving towards him.

It was his spare Batmobile and four bird-themed motorbikes. His children.

"B?" Dick questions after spinning to a stop and sliding right in front of Bruce. He lowers his window, looking at him with apparent confusion despite the Nightwing mask blocking his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Following a lead on the Fae. What are you doing here?" Bruce asks, lowering his arm but keeping his weapon. He could never be too sure this isn't a trick.

"Following a lead on Tim." Dick responds, stepping out of his car. Two other doors open, and out steps Steph and Damian, both looking posed for a fight. Of all his children, those two tend to be the most territorial and have not taken to Tim being a semi-held hostage well. "Oracle was able to track him through the city cameras after he popped up taking photos."

"hmm"

Jason jogged over to them with Cass not far behind. "Wait,, you got a lead on your cases too? We would check in on Victorian and see if he knew anything about Alvin."

He gestures to those behind him, indicating Cass and Duke, but the daytime hero is not paying attention. Duke was staring at the field, mouth slightly open as if in awe. Bruce straightens once he realizes Duke can probably see or at least detect the magical castle.

"Victorian?" Damian asks, crossing his arms. "Who is that?"

"The owner of the giant mansion we're standing in front of. He's one of my contacts."

"Ugh, not to make you feel crazy, Hoodie," Steph speaks up, placing a hand on the crook of her hip and waving her hand to the field. "But there is literally nothing there

"What are you talking about. This place is bigger than Wayne Manor."

Bruce heard about this. Guests who have been here before or have permission to enter can see glimpses of the Otherworld that Fae deals in. However, it is surprising to know Jason has already been in contact with the Fae before and has not been kept.

Did that throw a wrench in his theory of Tim and Alvin being the same person? Why would the Fae ask Jason to find Tim if he was in the creature's home?

Before anyone could say anything else, a giant gate entrance suddenly manifested mere feet from where Bruce stood. A soft creek was heard as it was thrown open, and a glowing woman in an old mail outfit floated just a foot off the ground on the other side. She eyed them all in an eerie, emotionless face before bending her own into a low bow. "Welcome. My King wishes to invite you in."

Well, that's not ominous at all.

His children shared a look between them, silently letting each other know to be cautious as they followed the floating woman. She led them down an impressive driveway that slowly gave way to a massive mansion.

Bruce fought to keep the surprise off his face. Jason was right. This place was more prominent and grander than his manor. It didn't just scream wealth. It screamed nobility; it screamed royalty.

The group walked into the main hall, some muttering thanks to the bowing woman who opened the doors. "Of course. The King stated that his home would always be open to Master Alvin's kin."

She vanished from sight like mist fading away as soon as they crossed the doorway.

Bruce's eyes instantly landed on the figure standing atop the grand stairs. Tim was gawking at them, wearing nothing but a long, seductive black robe with fluffy collars and wrists. The front of the rob was open, displaying a large amount of chest and thigh, but keeping the significant bits out of sight.

Thankfully.

His skin was glowing, his hair tussled stylishly, and a dozen red roses were in his hands. Tim looked like he was planning a romantic evening in his get-up.

"Oh," He said dumbly. "You're not Danny."

"What the fuck is going on" Jason demanded after a long period of silence.

"Um...I was planning on seducing my friend. What are you all doing?"

"Regretting waking up this morning," Damian demands, pressing a hand over his eyes. "Please get decent. My nightmares are horrid enough."

Bruce nods. "You were Alvin Draper and are romantically involved with the Fae. He seems to be treating you well. That's good."

All of his children stared at him for a long moment before the hall erupted with displeased noises. Bruce was taken aback.

Did none of them know any of this? It seemed obvious to him.

[maroonshirt81]

omggg what about a carcar cruise au?? Like they meet on the boat 😭🫶

thank you for the great request <3

---

carcar, 2k words, rated m for language

---

When Carlos arrived at his McLarenCruise luxury suite, his luggage was already waiting for him on the bed, next to a young man in a bright orange uniform, who was standing there with his hands folded behind his back. As soon as the door fell shut behind Carlos, the man started to speak like a robot who’d been waiting for its activation command.

“Welcome to your private luxury suite aboard McLarenCruise, where your comfort is our priority,” he drawled in what Carlos guessed to be an Australian accent. “I am Oscar, your personal steward, and I’m here to assist with anything you may need during your voyage.”

“Hello, Oscar,” Carlos said, flashing him a cheeky grin. “What if I need a little more enthusiasm?”

“I’m afraid that is not a service provided by the McLarenCruise stewards' crew,” Oscar prattled on, if possible even more monotone than before. “If you are unsure of how to make use of the steward appointed to you, I can print out a list of appropriate requests. It includes things like unpacking and storing your luggage, stocking your suite with toiletries and other amenities, and delivering room service.”

“Relax, Oscar.” Carlos laughed, plopping down on the bed. “I was only joking. Don’t act like I asked you to take off your pants.”

“I can also print out a list of actions that aren’t appropriate,” Oscar said. “It includes sitting on the bed while joking about your steward taking off his pants.”

Carlos’s mouth dropped open to tell him that he would never, in a million years, ask someone like Oscar to take off his pants, because… well—have you seen Carlos? But he realized in time that the inappropriateness of such a reply was probably even worse than the joke had been to begin with, so he said nothing.

Oscar seemed to take this as his dismissal. He nodded, as if he had provided exceptional service, and then left the suite before Carlos could ask him to unpack his luggage.

****

“Hello, Oscar,” Carlos tried again once evening came around. He had ordered a Risotto al Tartufo Bianco over the comm and then spent 20 minutes checking his hair in the mirror to make sure his charm was turned up to eleven.

He wasn’t the type to treat service staff poorly. In fact, he prided himself on being well-liked by all his subordinates—whether at his own firm, in restaurants, or within his household. He could crack a slightly grumpy Australian, no problem.

“Good evening, sir,” Oscar replied as he wheeled the cart into the suite. “Will you be eating at the table by the window?”

“Yes, please,” Carlos said, following behind to watch Oscar set the dishes on the smaller table in the suite. He looked a little out of place, with his bright orange cap, bright orange polo shirt, black shorts, and white tennis socks, serving a $100 dish to a high-end luxury suite.

“The cruise company forces you to wear this outfit, or is it a personal choice?” Carlos asked as he sat down in the chair Oscar had pulled out for him. He made sure Oscar saw his bright grin and knew that he was joking this time.

But Oscar didn’t laugh. Instead, he heaved a slightly disappointed sigh.

“Please, sir. I know this is a famously hard lesson to learn for old white men. But it is never appropriate to comment on the outfits of people in your service. Please reconsider letting me print out that list for you.”

Carlos was reeling.

Had this guy seriously just called him an old white man? He was thirty!

He must have been reeling for a moment too long because, once again, Oscar nodded at him as if he had just been dismissed after doing an amazing job and left without looking back. He hadn’t even poured Carlos a glass of wine.

And Carlos desperately needed it now.

****

“Hello, Oscar,” Carlos said the next morning, upon opening the door to what he first mistook for a wandering corpse. He had not bothered with trying to be charming today, but the even pastier-than-usual color of Oscar’s round, unremarkable face made him soften a little. “Are you seasick?”

“No, just sick of this job,” Oscar mumbled, barely audible. “What could you possibly want at six in the morning?”

Carlos arched his eyebrows high, surprised by the sudden lack of robot-like professional speech.

“You were asleep?”

“What gave it away?” Oscar asked. There were pillow lines etched into his cheeks, highlighting the truly terrible, blotchy stubble vegetating between the acne scars. Carlos didn’t point that out, though, since the question had clearly been rhetorical anyway.

Despite looking like he had just rolled out of bed, Oscar was wearing his trusty orange hat and orange polo.

“Do you just sleep in these clothes?” Carlos blurted, remembering Oscar’s lecture about outfit comments too late.

Predictably, Oscar started, “I get that at your age, memory might begin to fail, but—”

Carlos threw the door in his face.

Fuck it. He could find the early morning spin class by himself.

****

Oscar continued to be the most infuriating, judgmental, and frankly useless service personnel Carlos had ever dealt with. The charm offensive was not working, just like Oscar’s eyes, apparently, because he kept insinuating Carlos was some geriatric creep with a power kink. All week, he made Carlos feel like the biggest asshole who ever lived, hinting again and again at printing out a list of appropriate and inappropriate behavior toward his luxury cruise stewards.

Carlos even started to have nightmares about a monster with an orange for a head and unblinking, dead eyes, accusing him of wanting to fuck it.

And yet. 

And yet, when he was lounging on a sun chair on the deck by the pool one afternoon, sending a request for a hopefully spit-less cocktail to be delivered to him, he felt an odd pang of disappointment when a different, much more chipper-looking orange-capped young man appeared to deliver it to him.

“Where’s Oscar?” he asked.

“Oh, he has the afternoon off,” the guy informed him, somehow managing to directly answer his question without implying Carlos was a sick freak who should be arrested for indecent behavior.

“I see,” Carlos said.

“I’ll be at your beck and call until he’s back, sir,” the chipper guy said cheerfully. After a week of Oscar’s flat stare, this guy’s energy felt borderline manic.

“That’s fine, I won’t be needing you again,” Carlos sighed, waving him away.

Damn. He had come on this trip to wind down from his stressful job, maybe have a little summer fling with a hot twink—not to be haunted by a prickly, orange steward.

Letting his eyes wander over the various people surrounding the pool dressed only in the tiniest swimwear possible, he found himself utterly uninterested in any kind of fling. Until…

Until a soft, high giggle caught his ear from a few deckchairs away, where a group of young men were gathered, towels wrapped around their hips or draped over their shoulders.

Carlos immediately perked up. Now that was the kind of laugh he would like to elicit from someone. Honest and unguarded, as if they weren’t used to it but just couldn’t help their good mood in his presence.

Glancing past the various people obstructing his view, Carlos finally found the source of that special giggle, and felt like the air got punched out of his chest for a second.

Because standing there was a guy who could only be an actual, honest-to-God prince. Light brown hair with almost reddish highlights from the sun, falling over his forehead in the most perfect, gravity-defying curl. Crinkly eyes, pale skin with rosy cheeks and a fine peppering of moles spread across his whole body. He was obviously fit, but not in the kind of anabolically enhanced bodybuilder way. His arms had a nice shape to them, as he stood in a cute little pose, hand on his hips, accentuating a tiny waist. And outlined by a wet pair of black shorts was the most perfectly round, biteable ass Carlos had ever seen.

Now that was a guy Carlos would ask to take his pants off!

He kept observing the guy, waiting for the right moment to make his move, and the instant the prince sank into one of the free deckchairs while his friends wandered off toward the pool or the bar, he seized his chance.

Leaving his untouched cocktail behind, Carlos grabbed his bottle of sunscreen instead, master plan already forming in his head.

The guy was lying on his stomach when Carlos reached him, wet drops of water glittering compellingly on his back, face hidden in the nook of his elbow.

Carlos cleared his throat twice before the pretty guy turned his head, blinking one eye open.

“Sorry,” Carlos said, all casual-like. “I noticed your back is starting to be a little red.” Showing off his bottle of sunscreen, he added, “Do you want some of this?”

The guy just stared at him, until Carlos started to sweat a little.

“I could… ah… I could put it on, if you want?”

Finally, the beautiful man pushed himself up on his elbows, his brows furrowing in mild irritation.

And then.

And then he started to speak.

In a very familiar, incredibly judgmental Australian drawl.

“Top subject on the list of inappropriate interactions with your stewards,” he said. “Has to be approaching them on their afternoon off and offering to rub sunscreen all over their body!”

Carlos dropped his bottle of sunscreen without even noticing.

“Oscar?” he croaked, eyes snapping open so wide, he felt they were in danger of rolling right out of their sockets.

“Yes?” Oscar said, as if it was incredibly obvious that this… this God of a man was the same sickly pale steward who kept pestering Carlos’s every waking and sleeping moment with his thinly-veiled insults and scathing remarks. The same orange little traffic light figure. The same bad-mannered human Cheeto who complained about being woken up too early up to eleven o’clock, despite being tasked with bringing Carlos his breakfast.

Carlos turned around, not bothering to pick up his sunscreen, and launched himself right into the pool.

Because that was the closest he came to throwing himself overboard the ship.

****

He was surprised to actually find Oscar by the door come dinner time, wearing the same orange cap and polo and unimpressed expression as always. Carlos had almost expected to be permanently switched to the borderline-manic guy.

“Hello, Oscar,” Carlos said contritely, and stepped away to let him wheel in his little cart.

“Spaghetti Carbonara—the classic Italian version, per your request,” Oscar narrated, as he put down the dishes on the little table by the window. Carlos noticed the additional plate with a cloche over it, hiding its content, before Oscar even pointed it out.

“There’s a special little something for dessert under there. On the house. Bon appétit!”

And with that, he left, once again without pouring Carlos any wine.

Carlos waited until the door had fallen shut behind him, then lunged for the cloche, lifting it up.

As he had expected, there wasn’t actually any dessert under there.

Instead, it was a piece of paper.

Carlos took it and read through it, groaning louder the further he read.

Once he was done, he balled the piece of paper up and threw it across the room. Then he went over to the comm and dialed the steward’s office.

“Mr. Sainz! How can we help you?” a female voice asked from the other side.

“I have a message to leave for Oscar, please. Do you have something for writing?”

“Sure,” the woman said. “Go on.”

“Please write down: Carlos Sainz, 055-8155…”

****

[lloveboo]

ALL THE WAYS WE BURN - a Kim Mingyu fanfic

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader, ceo!mingyu x employee!reader

genre: office romance, sexual tension, yearning, heavy angst, slow burn

pervious chapter: A New Beginning

Chapter Two - Under His Gaze

Mingyu

Meetings in this company were where important decisions were made. Where I ran my company with precision, and I expected the same from everyone in this room.

Today was no different, until she spoke.

Her voice cut through the usual discussions, steady and sure. I glanced up, expecting to see one of my senior architects presenting, but instead, my eyes landed on her.

She was young. Unfamiliar. A lower-rank employee who shouldn’t have to speak so confidently in a room like this. But she did.

Intrigued, I leaned back slightly in my chair, “Explain”.

Her idea was good. Unexpectedly good. She broke it down with such ease, her words were smooth and her reasoning smart. She wasn’t just guessing she knew exactly what she was talking about.

Silence stretched across the table when she finished.

I nodded, considering her for a moment, “We’ll look into it.”

“What’s your name?”

She met my gaze without hesitation. 

“Nova, Sir.”

Something about the way she said it so poised, so respectful, but not submissive that it made my jaw tighten.

The meeting continued, but I found myself aware of her presence in a way I hadn’t been before. My eyes drifted back to her, taking in the sharp focus in her expression, the way she absorbed every word. She had an air of quiet intensity, something I recognized in myself.

I had no reason to know her before this moment. But now?

Now, I couldn’t stop noticing her.

After the meeting, I returned to my office, my mind still circling back to her as I looked at her job profile.

“Nova,” I murmured under my breath.

“Thinking about the new recruit already?”

I glanced up as Seungcheol stepped inside, settling into the chair across from my desk with the ease of someone who had been by my side for years.

Vice CEO Choi Seungcheol was a presence that couldn’t be ignored. He was composed with a sharp gaze that missed nothing. He had the mind of a strategist with the quick instincts of a leader and those were the type of traits that make me look up to him. 

I didn’t respond, and that only made his smirk widen. His dimples deepening. 

“She's impressed you.”

I exhaled, rubbing my jaw. “She’s smart. That was an executive level proposal from a low rank employee.”

“It is unusual,” Seungcheol agreed. “But yet, you’re not surprised.”

I wasn’t.

Because I had noticed something else about her.

There was a quiet confidence in the way she held herself. The way she spoke, like she belonged in that room.

“She’s wasted in the current position she is in now,” I said.

Seungcheol tilted his head. “So what are you going to do about it?”

I glanced at the documents in front of me, then made my decision.

“She’s joining the project with Lila.”

Nova

I had barely sat down at my desk when a coworker approached, a nervous edge in her expression.

“Nova, Mr. Kim wants to see you in his office.”

My stomach flipped.

It had only been an hour since the meeting but this felt different.

I quickly gathered myself, smoothing my blouse down before heading towards his office. The walk there felt never ending with each step echoing in my head.

And when I finally reached his door, I knocked once.

“Come in.”

The moment I stepped inside, the air shifted.

The office was sleek, expansive, with towering windows that overlooked the city. But I barely registered any of it because Mingyu was standing near his desk, eyes already on me.

He was taller than I had realised with a frame that showed his strength and his suit fitting him like it was specifically tailored for him, which it probably was.

“Sit,” he said.

I did, keeping my posture straight, my hands folded neatly in my lap.

For a moment, he just looked at me.

I held his gaze, refusing to shrink under his scrutiny.

“You handled yourself well in the meeting,” he said while finally taking a seat across me.

“Thank you, sir.”

His fingers tapped against his desk. “Lila will be leading that project but I want you involved. It to be effective immediately.”

Shock flared through me, but I kept my expression neutral. This was huge. Especially since I was of low rank with no real standing in this company yet and now I was being placed on one of the biggest projects.

“I won’t disappoint you,” I said carefully.

His gaze flickered, as if he had expected a different response.

“No, you won’t,” he said simply.

I nodded, standing. But as I moved, I caught the slightest shift in his expression his eyes dipping, lingering just a second too long.

I stiffened.

Did he just—

“Dismissed,” he said, his voice composed as always. 

I hesitated, then turned to leave.

But as I stepped out of his office, heart pounding, I realized something.

He had been looking at me.

And I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

I barely got the key into the lock before Charlotte flung the front door open, her smile widening as she looked at me.

“You’re home late,” she said, stepping aside to let me in.

I let out a breathless laugh, shaking off the day as I set my bag down. “Yeah, but it was worth it.”

Her eyes widened, excitement bubbling, “Tell me!”

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I grabbed her hands squeezing them tightly,“I got assigned to a huge project, Char. This is it. This is what I’ve been working for.”

Charlotte’s face lit up, and then suddenly, her arms were wrapped around me, squeezing tight. “Nova! Oh my God, I’m so proud of you!”

I hugged her back just as tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of home. “We won’t have to struggle forever,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I swear, Char, I’ll make sure of it.”

She pulled back, her eyes glassy but filled with so much hope. “You already do so much for me.”

I smoothed her hair down, smiling. “One day, we’ll have everything we’ve ever dreamed of. A house big enough for you to have your own art studio, maybe a trip somewhere far away… Switzerland, maybe?”

Charlotte gasped. “You think we could go to Switzerland?”

I nodded, determination burning in my chest. “Yeah. One day. I’m sure of it.”

She hugged me again, and for the first time in a long time I let myself believe that everything was going to be okay.

The next morning, the office was already buzzing with energy by the time I had arrived. I set my things down at my desk, glancing around. Lila was finally back.

She spotted me first, walking over in her sleek heels with an approving look. “Well, well. Hi, Miss project team member.”

I smiled. “I still can’t believe it.”

Lila smiled. “Believe it. You impressed the CEO. That’s not an easy thing to do.”

Her words sent a shiver down my spine. Mingyu. I’d barely slept last night thinking about the way he had looked at me in that meeting so sharp and assessing.

But that didn’t mean anything. Right?

“We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us,” Lila said, pulling me from my thoughts. “Let’s get started.”

We spent the morning brainstorming with the rest of the team and going over initial ideas together, and preparing a rough outline. Lila was focused, catching flaws before I even noticed them, and I found myself soaking up everything she said.

By mid-afternoon, an email popped up on my screen.

CEO’s Office - Project Update Meeting.

I swallowed hard.

Lila tapped my shoulder. “Guess it’s time.”

Me and Lila made our way to Mingyu’s office, and as soon as we stepped inside, I felt it. The shift in energy. The weight of his gaze.

Mingyu sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, his dark hair slightly tousled, “Sit.”

Lila launched into our update, detailing our progress so far. But the entire time, I could feel him watching me. It was subtle, just brief looks of attention but it was just enough to set my nerves on edge.

At one point, I glanced up and caught him already staring at me.

His eyes dropped, lingering on my collarbone just for a second before snapping back up to meet mine.

Heat curled low in my stomach.

The meeting wrapped up quickly after that, and as we walked out, Lila shot me a look.

“What?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

She smirked. “You don’t notice it?”

“Notice what?”

“The way he looks at you.”

I let out a laugh, shaking my head. “You’re imagining things.”

But as I walked back to my desk, my pulse still racing, I knew she wasn’t imagining it.

And that excited me.

— S.

Next Chapter: A Step Closer

[nczennie]

full sun.

Pairing: Reader x Haechan AU: Disney, Emperors New Groove Genre: Angst, Fluff Preview: You hum, “Someone must’ve snuck into your room. So either your guards failed you, or it was an inside job.” “Nonsense, I have the best guards in the world.” “And yet here you are.” You snap becoming frustrated, you wanted him to be safe but he was making it difficult. Words: 5.1k

You curse the emperor with every step you take up the hill to the palace. Choosing to ignore the burning in your lungs from the steepness of the walk in order to keep your fast pace.

“Who does he think he is? Ungrateful, privileged,” you trail off as you see the gates of the palace approaching. Everyone in the village knew of the kind of behavior that could be expected of the younger Emperor, but you had never had to deal with it first hand. 

Taking a deep breath, you walk towards to two guards standing watch at the gates. Showing them the letter you carried you explained, “I have a meeting with the Emperor.” They spare each other a glance before nodding you in. You hesitate just slightly, not expecting it to be this easy to walk in. You catch sight of another guard by the doors of the palace and make your way over to him. Before you could speak he opens motions for the large palace doors to be opened, “Follow me.” The deepness of his voice causes you to become nervous, finally realizing the situation. 

You were going to meet the Emperor for the first time, he was the all-mighty ruler. You may have had your annoyances with him, but the reality that he could do whatever he wanted to you if you angered him lingered heavily in your brain now. 

Following the guard down mazes of hallways, you look at the decor around you to distract yourself. Never in your life had you seen anything so extravagant. Gold detailing filled the place from top to bottom in endless depictions of the sun. There was nothing even close to this in the village where all the people lived, and though amazed, your annoyance grew even worse as the apparent money spent on the palace. 

The guard finally stops in front of two large doors, unsure of what to do, you stand there until given instruction. Just moments later you jump with a start as the doors open, looking on with horror as an elderly man is escorted out by guards. “You’re up.”  Gulping you walk slowly through the doors. Only the sound of your footsteps could be heard, echoing in the emptiness as the only piece of furniture is the large gold throne in the front of the room.  Your eyes stay focused on the ground as your afraid to look at him. Was there a proper way to greet him? You’re not sure, you’ve never even seen him before as he is not one to interact with the villagers. 

Finally you let your eyes slowly wander to the Emperor, he sits with a bored expression on his face. Head resting against his fist, elbow on the armrest. You knew he was a young Emperor, around your age, since the death of his parents, but looking at him now he seems too young to be ruling an Empire.  Perhaps that’s why he’s so bad at it. 

“Well?” he finally speaks and you find your annoyance growing in your chest once again.   

“I received this letter this morning, regarding purchasing my land.” You state, holding up the letter you found nailed to your door when you woke up. He seems to recall it as he perks up at the mention, sitting up straight, a small smile coming to his face.  “Yes, I will pay you 100 gold coins.” He motions for the guards, maybe to get the money but you have no interest. 

“No,” you simply state, heart thudding in your chest as you take in the amount of armed guards in the room. There’s a silence that follows, the Emperor obviously shocked at the reluctance. He finally throws his hands up, shaking his head, “What would you require then, 400?”

“It is not a question of gold,” you will your voice to stay firm, “I have no desire to sell my land, no matter the price.”

He blinks slowly at you, “I don’t recall the letter asking for your permission.” He was right. The letter was not an offer, but a demand. Either way, you had to fight it. 

“I am the village’s only healer, my home is where I do my work. If you take it from me there goes my home as well as the only place where I can help people.” He huffs, rolling his eyes at you, “With the gold I give you, you can buy a new home. You could even buy a home and a seperate place for your work. Therefore you should be thanking me.”

You become flustered, face burning red, “My land is more than that.” Taking a quick breath to keep you from stumbling, you continue, “All on the land of my home is fields full of growing plants that I use for my work. As I mentioned, I am a healer and I use all of these to make medicine for my patients. Without my land I can’t do as such.” 

Maybe you were expecting to strike some sort of cord within the Emperor, but you watched as he merely shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “Let me show you what I am planning to do with your land,” he snaps and a person comes wheeling out a 3D diagram with what you assume was your land.  The Emperor motions you to come forward so you do, slowly, looking at the 3D model. Your eyebrows furrow, “A community pool?” you question him and he laughs, “Community? No, this pool is for me. I had all the land surveyed and I noticed the land you own is obviously the best spot for me pool. It gets the most sunlight since it is slightly west of the mountains unlike the rest of the town.”

You want to argue with him, of course you know this, how else would you be able to grow all of your medical herbs and plants. But instead you merely stand your ground, “I’m sorry, but I will not sell my land, even if it is the perfect spot for your pool.” The Emperor is quick to glare at you, “500 gold coins is for your final answer, take that or else I’ll-” The young ruler is unable to finish the threat as a woman moves forward to interrupt him, “Now Haechan, let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.” You look at the older woman, slightly doing a double take at her farfetched eye makeup. 

Watching on as the Emperor groans, leaning back in his throne you look confused. “Yzma,” he speaks, “We already talked about how much I needed this land for the pool.” She gives a condescending smile to the boy, “I understand, but let’s not scare the girl off,” she turns to smile at you, “The Emperor offers you 500 gold coins for your land, I hope you understand how great that offer is. Now take the night to think it over, yeah? Come back here tomorrow afternoon.” 

You want to argue that no matter the amount of time you will not accept any offer, but you worry about the unfinished threat from the Emperor earlier. So instead you nod, bowing at the Emperor before taking your leave. 

That night you wander through the fields beside your house, using the light from the moon to help you harvest the peppermint leaves. You’ve spent the day tending to your patients; stitching an arm up, helping a young girl with a fever, and even delivering a baby. It was a busy day that left you little to no time for think about your encounter with the Emperor.

But now in the quietness, you can’t help but stress.  You were supposed to return tomorrow with your answer, however you had a feeling it was either agree or they force you out one way or another. Sure with the great amount of money they offered you could relocate, but no place could replace the vast fields of plants and herbs that you used daily or the sentimental value. Even if you were to replant some, your supply would drop drastically. Especially seeing as the Emperor planned to totally demolish the land. 

You tredge to the stream, kneeling to pick some chamomile when you notice something floating from the corner of your eye. Turning your full attention to it, you let out a gasp, standing and tumbling across the water to where it washed ashore. 

Gulping as you come closer, you notice you were right. It was a human floating in the water. Using all your strength to pull them fully on dry land, you move to flip them over. 

“Oh no,” you cry out as you see the face of the young Emperor. You quickly check his pulse, relieved that it was still there but you quickly began pushing down on his chest. Who knew how long he was in the water and how much got into his lungs. “C’mon.” You groan continuing your pulses before leaning to breathe into his mouth, hand covering his nose.  

Finally as you pull away for the second time, he jerks coughing, water spilling over his lips. He breathes heavily as you move him to his side but does not fully regain consciousness. Now you must figure out how to drag him back to your house to tend to him there.

The birds chirp in the morning light as you sip your tea, walking back into your house from collecting the newspaper. 

‘EMPEROR MISSING’ it reads in large print and you sigh closing the door behind you. Walking to where the young emperor sits in your bed barely noticing your presence he’s so busy eating his breakfast. 

He had woken up about an hour ago confused and hungry, but thankfully no sign of memory loss. “Everyone is looking for you.” You say walking beside him and handing him the newspaper. He looks up at you, mouth full of food before grabbing the paper. “Yzma to act as Empress until further notice...” Haechan reads before scoffing. “She’s not even of royal blood, I’ll be back in an hours time.” He states before returning to his food, clearly having no concept of how far the palace was from the town.

“Who is this Yzma anyways?” You ask moving to clear the kitchen. “My advisor.” Haechan states with a full mouth causing you to grimace. “She served on the council for my father so when my parents passed they assigned her to be my advisor until I came of age. But she does all the hard work so I keep her around even now.”

You stay silent, pursing your lips. “Well, that was delicious. I’ll be off to the palace now.” He places his dishes on the nightstand before standing. You rush beside him, unsure of his condition. “You’re just going to go back?” You look at him like he’s crazy but he gives you the same look back. “Of course I am. What else am I to do? Surely not stay here in town.”

Rolling your eyes you ignore the comment. “I mean is it safe? Clearly someone intended to kill you back at the palace and you don’t even know who.” Haechan blinks slowly, as if it just dawned on him how he ended up here in the first place.

“You really think someone did this on purpose?” He says and you raise your eyebrows. “I treated your wound. Someone obviously hit you in the back of the head before dumping you in the stream to die.” 

He scratches his cheek and you can’t tell if he’s thinking or zoning out. “You’re sure you don’t remember anything?” You ask him again and he nods. “Like I said I was in my room about to get into bed and that’s the last I remember.”

You hum, “Someone must’ve snuck into your room. So either your guards failed you, or it was an inside job.” 

“Nonsense, I have the best guards in the world.”

“And yet here you are.” You snap becoming frustrated, you wanted him to be safe but he was making it difficult. “Well what do you suggest I do?” He throws his hands up. “Is there someone in the palace you trust the most? Maybe we can get you to them and tell them what happened.” You try.

“It has to be Yzma.” He says, “She’s been with me since I was a kid, since my parents passed.” You nod, “Okay, perfect. We’ll find a way to get you to her without anyone else seeing so she can help figure out who did this.”

Haechan nods, licking his lips in determination. “Right, okay. How do we sneak in though if there are guards everywhere?” You take a moment to think. When you walked to the top of the hill yesterday the whole trail was covered with guards. But you remember as a child taking a trip with your grandfather. “We’ll go the back way. There’s a secret trail on the back of the hill we can take. It just might take longer.”

“How long exactly?” He asks with a frown. “A day.”

“What?!” He sounds esaperated, “You wanted me to spend a night outside?” You roll your eyes at him, “You have a head injury, you can’t push yourself that hard. We need to take our time.” He runs his hands over his face before sighing, “Alright, fine. But we need to leave as soon as possible.”

Sighing as you tie your bag up you look at Haechan who looks unamused from where he sits. “Alright, we can head out.” He rolls his eyes, “About time.” You send him a glare as you place the bag on your back, “We have to be prepared, it’s a long journey. We need food, something for shelter, your medicine..” You trail trying to make your point. 

You follow the emperor outside, closing your door behind you, placing the note you wrote on your door. It was the only way to let anyone know you’d be out for the day. 

Quietly he lets you take the lead and you head further into the lush jungle and towards a tiny trail that rarely sees anyone but animals. You both trek quietly until the boy finally speaks, “Why do you think someone wanted me dead?”

Blinking harshly as you continue your pace, you don’t look back at him. “Well you’re the emperor, they could want power. Or maybe you did something to make them angry.” You say knowing a lot of town people don’t exactly agree with the reckless ruling and spending of the young ruler. 

“Nonsense.” He says loudly, “There’s no one who would disagree with me. Except you of course.”

You stop abruptly turning to face him and he nearly stumbles into you, “Excuse me?” 

Haechan frowns at you, “Yeah, you won’t willingly give me your land.” You shake your head, “You don’t realize how important my land is.” He merely rolls his eyes so you speak again, “I can’t be the only one who disagrees with you.” You know it’s true, you hear what the people say around town. 

“You are. Except two others who I had to have imprisoned but everyone else knows my power and it’s something you should learn too.” You raise your eyebrows and he continues and starts to walk in front of you down the trail, “I am of royal blood, descended from the sun god himself. I was made to rule over this land, over these people. What I say goes and what I say is correct. There is no other way.”

Your cheeks burn with anger and your mind flashes of what would have been if you left him in the stream last night. But you take a deep breath before continuing on the trail. 

“Then why do you think someone tried to kill you?” You ask and you see him shrug in front of you. “Don’t know. Can’t think of any reason why.”

It’s been a long day of travel with Haechan, from the humidity and steep hills to Haechans constant whining and insisting on stopping and snacking. 

Now the sun was nearly setting but you were more worried about the rumbling of thunder and the dark clouds that were rolling in at an alarming pace. After a particularly close strike of lightning, you look around before dropping your bag to the floor. “We need to set up shelter here.”

The emperor frowns looking around, “You said we would be there in a day. Can’t we keep going?” He looks up, the top of the hill where the palace was at didn’t seem too far. 

You don’t even spare him a glace, working on getting one of the tarps out of your bag instead. “No.” You say bluntly, “It’s going to rain- to storm. We need shelter, it’s not safe to keep going now.”

The wind starts to pick up making it more difficult for you to move the tarp the way you want it. You spot a tree branch that nearly reaches the side of the hill where a small ledge pokes out. It seems like the best placement, so you drag it over and start to throw it over the branch. 

“I’m not staying here.” Haechan speaks up over the wind and thunder, “I’ll walk the rest of the way myself if I have to.” 

“Don’t be stupid!” You call out, blinking as it starts to drizzle. “Bring me some rocks, big ones. We can place them on the ridge to keep the tarp in place.” You grab some string from your bag tying down the edge to the branch. 

“Don’t forget who you speak to!” Haechan shouts and you pause to look at him, raining now falling harder. “I am the emperor! I will not take orders from someone like you! If I say we keep going, we keep going!” 

You pull the knot tightly, letting the branch snap back up, ignoring Haechan as well as the annoyance growing in your chest. Instead you move to gather rocks, grabbing as much as you can before moving to the tarp again. 

“Listen to me!” Haechan shouts again, moving closer, “Why do you insist on disobeying everything I say!” His voice is dark, seeming truly angry now causing you to look at him. “Leave all this, we are going! Now!” 

Another clap of thunder rings out and you break. “Look around, we are not going anywhere! You’ll die before you even get to the palace. Stop acting like an incompetent leader and grab the damn rocks!” You scream over the rain. 

He freezes staring at you as the rain grows harder. Without another word he grabs the rocks and silently helps you place them on the ridge, keeping the tarp in place. 

You both move under the shelter and you pull out a blanket from the bag placing it on the ground and you both sit. The rain and wind continue to roar loudly and you take a small towel you packed. “Let me see your head, I need to reapply your medicine.” You speak. 

He hesitates but moves, allowing you to dry and apply the salve to his wound. Once done you both sit quietly again until Haechan finally speaks up. “I’m not as stupid as they say I am you know.”

You keep your gaze on the thread of the blanket you’ve been messing with, suddenly feeling guilty. “I didn’t-” You start but he interrupts. 

 “A little naive, yes. But you have to realize they only tell me what they want me to hear. I’m not allowed to leave the palace.”

You turn to look at him surprised by this, “Why?”

“I’m the only living heir to the throne, the last blood connected to the sun god. Since the accident with my parents they needed to keep me safe. At least until I have an heir of my own. The blood line could end with me.”  

You pause, listening to the rain as you take in your words.  You’ve never thought, you you doubt the people in town did either, that Haechan staying cooped up in the palace was anything but his choice. 

“Do the people really hate me that much?” He asks and you can hear the sadness radiating from his voice. “They don’t hate you, it’s just...” You stop yourself trying to think of the right words to say. “They’re frustrated Haechan. We see the amount of money being spent on the palace but most of town is struggling to pay for necessities. They just don’t feel like they’re being heard.” 

Explaining it as gently as you can, you hope he sees where you’re coming from. Minutes pass of silence, nothing but the rain hitting the tarp could be heard. But the emperor finally speaks again. “I didn’t know people were struggling. They don’t inform me about anything. Yzma says I don’t need to worry about that stuff.”

“Whenever I asked to build something in the palace, they would do it without a question. I guess I just thought if there was a problem with the spending they would have suggested I don’t. I’ve never been told no.” He rants running his hand over his face. “And anytime someone from town would come to see me, they would introduce them in a way that made it seem they were only out for trouble. Like it was weird for them to even be visiting me. I never once considered they really needed my help. Maybe I really am incompetent.” 

He sighs and you frown. “We didn’t know, Haechan. No one knows that they made you stay away from the town, we all just figured you thought you were too good for us.” His lips form a pout. 

“But I’m sure we can fix that, you can send an announcement to the people and tell them the truth. They’ll surely understand then.” You try to brighten his mood. Suddenly you feel bad for the young emperor who was forced to stay in the palace, not knowing an ounce of truth about his empire in hopes of keeping him safe to continue the bloodline. Perhaps he is misunderstood afterall. 

“Maybe you can help me!” Haechan suddenly says brightly, turning to face you. “You probably know the towns people better than anyone else. You can let me know what I can do to fix it!” You look at him hesitantly, “Maybe.” You simply say. 

The rain continues for the next couple of hours as you and Haechan lay side by side on the blanket. The temperature as dropped dramatically and you both wordless moved as close as possible to each other to find a source of warmth. 

“I hate the rain.” Haechan suddenly says and you try to find his gaze in the dark. “Why?”

“It was raining when I found out about my parents accident.” He says nonchalauntly causing you to gulp. You vaguely remember the incident, both you and the emperor were merely kids then. But you remember the whole town mourning when they announced the emperor and empress has died an accident after visiting the town over. 

“I’m sorry,” You say, “Were you close to them?”

“Very much so. I loved them and they loved me. It was the last time I probably felt love. Before I was pushed onto the throne as a child who only wanted his parents back.” 

You can imagine a young Haechan sitting in the cold throne room, struggling to understand what was happening. Your stomach turned at the thought and you let yourself reach down to hold his hand giving it a squeeze.  He doesn’t pull away. 

“Are you close to your family?” He asks.

Swallowing, you answer slowly. “My mother died giving birth to me and my father died a couple years after your parents. He got a sickness from one of his patients and never recovered.”

You think you see him turn to look at you but you can’t quite tell in the dark. “I’m sorry.” He says. 

“It’s okay. I was raised by my grandparents. They taught me all about healing and medicine to continue the practice. Unfortunately they both passed a couple of years ago, but they were quite old.”

You feel Haechan squeeze your hand that still rests in his. 

“Perhaps we understand each other more than we think.” He says and you both fall asleep to the sound of rain, hands remaining intertwined. 

The morning air is crisp but the sky is blue as you and Haechan pack up the shelter you created for the night. Unlike before, he willing helps you fold the tarp and blanket before placing them into your bag. 

As you both continue on the trail Haechan talks excitedly about a newspaper he plans on printing. One that would inform the town people of the misunderstanding between them. Of how he had ideas to create a new budget for everyone to use. 

The palace was now in view but you both stopped to quickly eat before making it up the last of the hill. 

“I don’t think I ever told you thank you.” Haechan looks at you, “For saving my life, for bringing me back. For telling me the truth.” 

You smile genuinely at him. “Of course. Thank you for listening.” You say back and he smiles too. “Hopefully with Yzma’s help I can quickly figure out who did this to me and why they did it.” Nodding along you start to worry that bringing him back here would only put him in more danger. 

But Haechan doesn’t seems to worried as he goes back to rambling about his future plans. “And of course I’ll see you again when I come to properly buy your land. I’ll actually have the right paperwork.”

Your stomach drops and you look to see if he was joking, “What?” You say and stand to your feet, “You seriously still want to buy my land, after everything?” 

He frowns at you, “No, no. You see it won’t be just a pool for me anymore. It’ll be for the community. They’ll see how I can change and spend for them too.” He nods optimistically at you. 

Furrowing your eyebrows you feel your face start to burn, “I can’t believe you’re still trying to buy my land after everything that’s happened! I told you I need my land Haechan. It has everything I need for healing, it’s been in my family for generations, it’s the only thing I have left of them! You can’t just take it from me!” You confess feeling tears starting to burn your eyes. 

Haechan blinks at you but there’s no time to argue as a group of palace guards come from around the corner. “There!” A lady, Yzma, as you recognize her shouts. “There is the emperor! Take that girl quickly into custody.”

You look at her in shock, “Me?” you ask confused as she makes her way to Haechan and the guards walk towards you. 

“Didn’t you hear her!” She says, “She refuses to sell the emperor her land and has taken him in retaliation!” 

“No!” You panic as the guards roughly grab you, “That’s not it! Haechan!” You shout trying to look at him as they pull you away but you only see a lost look on his face.

Haechan sits in the large dining room eating a warm meal, only Yzma across from him and some guards posted on the door. 

“Thanks for taking over while I was gone.” He says simply, staring at his food. She gives him a familiar smile, “It was my pleasure.” 

There’s silence again and Haechan thinks of you. He doesn’t believe you were the one who did this of course, but Yzma refused to release you, saying it wasn’t safe. Haechan insisted on starting an investigation after telling her someone dumped him in a stream but she claimed there was no reason to with you locked up. 

Haechan has full power over her as emperor but there was something about her that made her hard to say no to. She has been telling him what to do since his parents passed. 

“I’m not that hungry, I’ll head to my room now.” He announces standing from his chair. She nods not looking up at him, “Of course, I’ll send the healer in to look at your head injury.”   

Haechan freezes in his place. 

When telling her the story of what happened, he merely said he was dumped in the stream. He didn’t once mention the injury on his head.

His stomach fills with dread as he realizes the betrayal. Memories flashing of when he found comfort in the woman when he was a young boy, crying over the death of his parents. Yet after it all, it was she who tried to kill him. All for some power. 

“It was you.”

“Thank you! Please enjoy the festivities!” Haechan shouts over the crowd as they cheer for him. You smile, clapping along with the crowd as you stand beside the emperor. 

The town was holding a celebration for your healing center, as Haechan has invested in digging waterways in order for easier managing of your crops. Now you didn’t have to do as much work to maintain the fields. 

It was one of many steps Haechan as taken in healing his relationship with his people and showing them what he was really capable of.  They all adored this new and improved leader and looked up to him and all he’s done. 

“Congratulations.” He speaks turning to you with a smug smile. “I know you really just want me to congratulate you.” You tease him and he shrugs, “It would be appreciated.” 

You laugh softly, stepping closer, leaning to placing a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. You pull away noticing the reddening of his cheeks as you whisper in his ear, “Congratulations Haechan, and thank you.”

“I don’t know why you’re so shy, we’ve kissed before you know.” You state and he only turns further red. “What? No we haven’t! When?” He’s flustered and confused as you laugh.

“When I saved you of course, I had to give you mouth to mouth to get you breathing again.”

His mouth opens and closes as he thinks. “That-that doesn’t count.” He whines which only causes you to laugh loudly. Continuing to giggle as he grabs your hand to pull you closer, placing his hand gently on your cheek in order to pull you in for a proper first kiss.

Copyright © 2025 by nczennie. All rights reserved.

[dramas-vs-novels]

I slept guys

8 hours straight, no interruption

My previous record was a rough 4 hours and then a rough 3.

The night before was another 25 minute night.

I swear sleep makes my meds 10x stronger. I mean, prednisone easily helped save my life here, but my GOD. It is not a gentle touch. Thankfully today the dose lowers slightly for the next phase of medications and it shouldn't mess with me as much.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

I miss my old coworkers!!! I miss having friends at work instead of passive aggressive assholes who don’t want to train me and then get annoyed when I don’t know things and act like my very existence irks them!!!!

[ohbutwheresyourheart]

girlies I'm losing my mind.

[itsalwaysdark]

whining hours . sry

[prlssprfctn]

In his new room - in his new house - Jason searches up for a circus performances and stares at them for hours. First, he watches at them mindlessly, unconsciously curious, and then, he starts to take notes.

He is a street kid, and everything about him screams of that. So, he is nowhere near the grace of these performers on the screen. His arms are not that strong, too, but he is agile, and his legs are much stronger - he can think of something.

He can be just as good as the boy he is replacing.

It is not like someone tells him to match Richard Grayson, and it is not like someone admits that Jason is here to replace the first Wonder Boy, but Jason heard Bruce's conversation with Dick earlier. It was meant not for his ears, but it doesn't matter now.

"So, now what, you exile me, and bring a boy to replace me?!"

Jason is not mad. All of it ‐ adoption papers, the manor, the school - is much more than he ever thought he would get in his life. Being replacement doesn't sound as bad anyway; especially, if his brother is so cool.

So, he makes notes on circus performances and slightly chopes his hair. They are much curlier than Dick's - he has more of a wavy ones, and the only ever look that way, when they get long; his childhood photos with short hair looks too straight - but the cut does its magic.

The next day, Bruce compliments his hair absentmindedly and is positively surprised by his new moves on the patrol, asking where he learnt it from. Jason lies about not remembering, but his cheeks are flashed, and his smile is all about teeth. He can't wait to show it to Dick once they finally get on a mission together.

Expect, when they do, Dick just nods and mutters a light-hearted "good job" before leaving to talk with his team. And Jason knows Dick doesn't want to be mean - he gets it; no one feels good about having a replacement, especially the one that seems so cheap in comparison - but he still cries that night in his pillow, feeling himself a little kid, even if he isn't one. Even if he never was.

Jason wonders if his own replacement would make him understand Dick.

But Jason never gets replaced.

No matter the taunting voice of the Lazarus Pit in the back of his head - that sometimes sounds suspiciously like Talia's; you remain unavenged and replaced - and his own intrusive thoughts that spiral in uneven lines, Jason doesn't think Tim was ever meant to be his replacement. Being replaced means to match the person that was meant to be left behind. And no one asked Tim to be like Jason.

If anything, memory of Jason was thrown under the rag, hidden and locked securely in heads of those who survived. And if they brought Jason up, then it was always an example of what Robin shouldn't do: run away, disobey, and allow emotions to consume you. So, not much of an exemplary original. More like an opposite.

Jason feels an urge to explain that to Tim once; when they sit together on the rooftop, almost like a proper family, instead of broken pieces of someone's idea of a one.

'You could never replace me,' he says, and the instant it leaves his mouth, he knows it came out wrong.

Tim rolls his eyes.

'Yeah, dude. Whatever.'

'No, I mean—' He grits his teeth, scrapping slightly the back of his hand. 'I mean... You could never replace me, because... Because you were always better.'

Tim freezes. His big blue eyes shift in something more confused, and it is almost as if he is not sure how he needs to react — to protest? To agree? To thank him?

Jason doesn't know what to do, too.

He wants to say: it is easy as that, babybird. They wanted to have someone who would have nothing in common with me — someone who could help them to forget about my existence, about the existence of the failed Robin.

But he can't make himself speak again. And he is not sure he wants to stay any longer to hear Tin manging to put his thoughts in the words; he is better than him at this, too, and he almost always sounds convincing.

So, he leaves.

In his room - in the building he owns now - he ruffles his outgrown hair, fluffs up the white streak, and passes by his only remaining photo with Bruce in the frame, on the shelf under the stolen tire.

He still does this semi-circus move in his fights - almost frozen in the air, with his back arched - but he doesn't expect anyone to compliment him anymore.

[mariasont]

My Boss Won't Be Happy About This - A.H

a/n: back to bimbo brain rot!!!! inspired by the first season that one episode (you know the one) where hotch is all macho man with elle in jamaica

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you’re wrongfully arrested and hotch is not happy about it

warnings: creepy officer, inaccuracies of how law enforcement works, hotch being sexy

wc: 1.3k

"Listen I'm not the type of girl to tell someone how to do their job, but I just don't think you're doing it right."

You were speaking to an empty room, or at least, you were speaking to the mirror in front of you. It's the kind of mirror you had seen in countless interrogation scenes, the kind you usually image Hotch standing behind. You let your gaze linger, wondering if eyes are studying you from the other side, listening to your monologue.

"Well, that, and I also just don't think it's very nice." Your brand spanking new heels were tapping against the dirty floor. 

You weren't happy about that. You weren't happy about any of this. Your feet ache, but the fear of the germs lurking on the floor paralyzes any thoughts of relief by removing your shoes.

"And hey, shouldn't I get a phone call? That's a rule, I think," you mumble, lips turning downward in an unusual frown. It seems like the right time for it. "My boss is not going to take this well. I mean, he's got this look, you know? The kind that makes you want to apologize for things you didn't even do."

You conjured up his daunting expression and released a jittery laugh, all while striving to disregard the biting cold blasting from the AC vent, which seemed determine to freeze you into place. 

You were seriously out of your element, not just in surroundings but in dress--so form-fitting it left very little to the imagination. It seemed to be a good idea for a date. That was before you realized said date would be a complete disaster. Now, it felt like a trap. It had been a spectacle for a man unworthy of the effort, and as you sat in this rigid chair, you found yourself tugging at the hem every other moment, a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of modesty.

"So, when he hears about this little error... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Six hours had passed in this dreary space, and you could feel your sanity fraying at the edges. You muttered, half to yourself, "Not that they're as cute as mine, but you get the point."

The door hinge's creak made you sit bolt upright, a silent supplication for Hotch's rescue echoing through your mind. But today, it seemed, the gods were indifferent. The officer who had arrested you stepped in.

"Having fun talking to yourself?"

You flashed your sweetest smile. "Oh, tons! But I'd have much more fun if you'd uncuff me."

He said nothing, folding his arms over his chest as he dragged his gaze up and down your body in a way that made your skin prickle in discomfort. You attempted to dispel the creeping dread, but it stubbornly lingered.

You did what you could to cover up, despite the awkward angle of your arms. "Listen, this is all just a big mistake. I work for the FBI," you insisted, though it was clear the officer's attention was fixated on your tits rather than your words. "Well, I mean, I'm an assistant for the unit chief of the BAU unit. You've heard of Aaron Hotchner, haven't you?"

The officer's mouth closed without a word, as the door was thrust open yet again, and this time, your heart leapt in recognition. Your knight in shining armor with a lethal expression.

His eyes instantly zeroed in on the officer with a look that could curdle blood, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that you weren't the object of his anger. He approached you wordlessly, his every motion precise and determined.

He carefully shed his jacket, a gesture he seldom made, and draped it across your shoulders. The fleeting caress of his hand against your skin was enough to make you lean into his touch. You let out a breath that you had been unconsciously holding back. 

You watched as Hotch turned, his voice a low, steady force, his words carefully chosen and tinged with an unsettling peace. "Officer," he began, the title spoken almost as warning. "I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding. This woman is not only an esteemed member of the FBI, but she is also under my direct supervision."

He stepped closer, encroaching on the officer's personal space. You watched, almost in slow motion, as the officer's expression morphed into one of sheer terror, his earlier confidence dissolving like sugar in hot tea.

"Six hours," he continued, his voice never rising yet somehow it took up all the space in the confined room. "Six hours of unwarranted detention, without due process. I expect her immediate release. And make no mistake, this lapse in judgment will have its ramifications."

The officer was mute, his fingers clumsily unlocking the handcuffs, his movements hurried, his hands trembling. A twinge of pity flickered within you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the memory of considering the table as a makeshift blanket.

The moment the metal clicked open; you wasted no time. You flung your arms around Hotch, the pent relief and biting chill of the past few hours pouring out of you. You were desperate for warmth, specifically his warmth.

He stiffened, caught off guard by your actions. You feel the anger radiating through him, practically pulsing through his skin. As you clung to him, you felt the draft on your legs as your dress slid up, and without missing a beat Hotch's hand discreetly adjusted the fabric, all while keeping his eyes locked on the officer, a silent warning in his gaze.

Once he was certain you were decently covered, he allowed himself to draw him into his arms. One arm secured around your waist, the other weaving through your hair. You were cold. It renewed another tide of rage through his bloodstream.

With the officer's departure, the room's oppressive atmosphere lightened a touch, leaving you still latched onto your boss.

"Oh, sir, you wouldn't believe it," you started, his hands tracing up your spine and sparking a trail of goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. "They kept asking me about a heist, as if I'd know anything about that! And then they show me this picture, and I mean, sure, she had my hair, but that's about it."

You rambled on, and he let you, the absurdity of the situation pouring out in a stream of consciousness. Hotch's hold on you tightened. You could sense the coiled tension in him, a tempest of anger held a bay.

"And the room, it was so cold! I mean, I'm sure you can tell. My teeth were chattering, and all I could think of was how I'd rather be filing your paperwork or listening to Reid's factoids about the quantum mechanics of coffee beans."

You felt Hotch's breath on your hair as he let out a sigh. 

"I'm just glad you're here now," you whispered, finally allowing yourself to relax in his embrace.

Hotch gave a curt nod, his jaw set. He was itching to confront the officer, to unleash a tirade not meant for your ears. But he was well aware of how much you needed him right now, and that trumped everything in his book.

Hotch took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "This isn't just incompetence; it's negligence. I will have this place reevaluated for its standards, or lack thereof."

You took a step back, hands still resting on his arms, and he maintained his grip on your waist. "I bet this is the last time you'll let me go on a date without a full background check on the guy, huh, sir?"

Hotch's hold on your waist firmed just a fraction. "Maybe it's the last time I let you go on a date, period."

He was only half-joking.

"Not even with you?" You tilted your head to meet his gaze, drawing his jacket closer around you.

Hotch just simply gives you that look, the one that says a thousand words without a sound. He's telling you to tread lightly.

"Alright, I'll be good," you giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Can you take me home now, please?"

He nods, "Yeah, let's get you home."

And then he leads you out, thinking to himself that the next person to take you out will be him, but that's for him to know and you to find out later.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[zentraex]

Summary: You made a lot mistakes in your new job, but do you regret them? Nope, not a bit. But who can blame you for it? If you wouldn't have done them, you never would have met this pretty boy.

Remember: German Grammar is a lot different then English grammar. I apologize for any mistakes.

Pairing: Francis Mosses (doppelganger) x gn! Reader

(A/N): I usually write for mha, but this men dominates my fyp on TikTok and I can't stop grinning like an idiot about all this fanarts. My men is just too attractive for his own good. Nevertheless, Tumblr has too few fanfictions for him, so I had to do it myself. Still, I am not that proud about how it turned out. It certainly sounded better in my head, but I don't care. One shitty fanficion is better than none.

Art by @asteriscks on TikTok

This game is not mine, but Ignacio Alvarado. I also used phrases from the game.

Mistakes? Yes, but no regrets.

It's been a week since you started working for D.D.D as a doorman. 

You can remember your first day so well, it could have been yesterday. 

Well... probably because your life is constantly at stake. 

_

It started with a mistake that you ended up here. It was completely unexpected since you always made sure, that you sent your rent to the right account. 

Surely no one can blame you for a small typo, right?

Well, your landlord, who kept pounding on your door until you woke up, surely did.

"What?" you asked, annoyed, as you opened the door.

"When do you plan to finally pay your bill? The date has already been overdue for two weeks!" he complains. 

What?

"Sorry, but I've already transferred my money to you."

"Well, I didn't get anything. Do you still have the receipt for the transfer?"

"No..."

You already knew what that meant: double payment.

"Look, today, I'll transfer it to your account again, okay? If it doesn't work this time, it's not my fault."

You were about to close the door, but your landlord had other plans when he held the door open with his foot.

 "No no no. You will give me the money now. I don’t trust you. Why would you transfer it to me today, when it should have happened two weeks ago. You will give it to me now."

Your eyes widened. 

Now?

"But I don't have that much money in my hand? Who's got that?"

"Then I'll have to kick you out for now. But don't worry, no one is going to buy an apartment here anytime soon, so you can move right back in as soon as you give me the money."

Staring stunned at his smiling face you could have sworn you were about to hit him. 

"The keys?" 

With watery eyes, you grabbed your keys, placed them in his outstretched hand, and frowned.

What kind of person had such sharp fingernails as he does?  

You were sure that he could definitely have stabbed someone with them.

Thank God, I didn't hit him. 

"When do you plan to give me the money? I've heard that all banks closed today. Some kind of holiday among them, I've heard."

What!?

How were you going to get through the day today? You intentionally left everything in your apartment since you were so sure that you could have given the money to your landlord in a matter of minutes. 

"You’re telling me this now!?"

"If you had paid, you wouldn’t need to know." 

That filthy bastard.

No matter how angry you were at that moment, your panic was overweighting.  

What were you going to do now? 

Shit.

"Man, I really wouldn't want to be in your situation...", the landlord murmured.

Fuck the nails- This guy deserves a punch.

Just as you raised your fist, he speaks again.

"But maybe we can agree on something.

Then you stopped. 

"The D.D.D., which is responsible for the safety of all residents in this area, is looking for doormans. Ours has recently...quitted, which is why we are urgently looking for one. They pay three times the amount of your rent in a week. If you take the job, I can overlook your sloppiness this time."

Three times your rent? In a week? And for what? To sit there and check a few documents. You'd be crazy not to take the offer! 

"Okay. I'll do it. Where can I apply?"

"Don't worry, I'll sort it out for you. Tomorrow, you can start”

_

Looking back, it should have been clear to you that something was wrong. Starting with the sudden his sudden threat, the fingernails and this stupid story about the holiday of the banks. 

Maybe it was just because you were too panicked at that moment to think rationally.

But let’s be true here: when are you thinking rationally? If you did, you would certainly have quitted after your first day.

_

"Welcome and congratulations on your new job."

After watching the short video, a man in the yellow suit came to your window. You are so shocked that you can’t even answer.

I'm going to die today!

After all, you know it yourself: you're too gullible for the job. There's no chance you'll unmask a doppelganger who copies someone well.

“As you could see on the introductory film, your job is to verify the entry of the neighbors of your building. Each day there will be a list of individuals who will request entry to the building. It is possible that there are individuals who request entry and aren’t on the list. In which case you will mark on the checklist that they are not on the list and proceed to question the individual. Also, you must verify that the ID and the entry reqest are correct and have the respective D.D.D. logo. Don’t forget to also check the expiration on the IDs. Remember it’s Febuary 1955."

Your gaze wanders to the note that was stuck to the wall. 

Arnold Schmicht F02 – 01

Anastacha Mikaelys F02 – 04

Robertsky Peachman F01 – 02

Steven Rudboys F03 – 03 

Mia Stone F03 – 01

Rafttellyn Cappuccin F03 – 04

Admittedly, you don't know any of your neighbors, neither by character nor really by sight. You were never the type to care about your neighbors. 

"I wish you good luck."

C’mon Reader, be like Henry…

But better.

The first inhabitant was Mia Stone and you already started to sweat.

"Good evening."

Was she real? Was she a doppelganger? 

With shaky hands, you reached for her ID and entry pass, only to find that everything was fine. She was also on today's list and her appearance doesn't show any deviations either, right?

Just to be sure, you looked into the folder that described her appearance: 

Long hair

Small round nose

She has freckles

...

...

...

Freckles?

Your eyes wandered again to the woman in front of you, who was waiting patiently behind the window. 

You narrowed your eyes a little and leaned forward to get a better view of her.

No matter how long you stared at her, you didn't see them, her freckles. 

"You look different...", you murmur after a while.

"What's wrong with my appearance? I think everything is fine with my appearance."

Her photo on her ID and Entry Pass both have no freckles. 

Perhaps a mistake on the part of the D.D.D.? 

You're about to press the green button, but then you see her grinning slightly out of the corner of your eye. 

Shit. 

She almost had you. You're really not made for this job.

Your hand slammed hard against the red button, causing the siren to blare and the metal window to crash down. 

"3312," you murmur to yourself.

"You have contacted the D.D.D.. A group of agents has been sent to your building. Please wait for the cleaning protocol to run."

Cleaning protocol? 

What happens to those who were cleaned? They certainly won't be killed, will they? 

What if they will?

What if your judgment was wrong?

What if...

Your thoughts were interrupted as the siren fell silent and the metal window went up, only to reveal the yellow man.

"Cleaning protocol completed. You can continue your job."

It took a while until someone finally came again. 

This time, your heart was pounding faster. Significantly faster. And this time, you can't even say for sure that it's all out of fear. 

Milkman...

You definitely can't deny it: he's probably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen. 

You don't even have to look at today's checklist to tell he's not on it – a face like his would have caught your eye right away. 

"Francis Mosses, huh?" you murmured to yourself as you looked at his ID. "You're not on today's list."

"I’m not on today’s list because I had to leave due to an emergency."

Long nose

Thin chin

Tired eyes

Short hair

Wears a hat

It all fit. The only thing left now was a call. 

Just as you began to spin the wheel of the phone, he said, "You're new here, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."

"Yes, today is my first day."

"Must be hard, huh? I've heard that more and more doppelgangers are appearing and they are becoming more and more error-free. It would be a shame if such a pretty face as yours were to disappear forever."

Your cheeks turn red and suddenly you feel shyer than you actually are.

"B-But your job has to be hard as well. I didn't think that being a milkman would rob you so much sleep."

Francis smiles a little. So little that you almost didn't see it at all.

"It's not. I just stay up for a very long time. If you like, I can bring you some milk sometime. It's refreshing, calms the nerves."

You bite your lip slightly when you have to refrain from a question.

What milk do you mean exactly?

My God, why were you just such a sucker for handsome men?

"I'd be delighted, Francis."

You talked to him for a while and you quickly forgot that you were actually going to call someone. 

"I'd like to talk to you more, but I don't want to stop you from your work. I'll see you tomorrow, right, Reader?"

And you quickly forgot that you never told him your name. 

You pressed the green button.

_

"Shh," whispered the voice of Francis next to your ear. 

It was your third day, your third time to change shift.

Well, it usually would have been.

Your vision and mouth were blocked by the bloody hands of the doppelganger who claimed to be Francis.

He had killed the doorman, that should have taken over your shift.

You had to admit, that you were more than inconsiderate. After all, you didn't ask for his entry pass, nor the reason why he wasn't on today's list.  

"I'll let you go now, yeah? No wrong move, okay?"

He laughed softly as he released his hands from you and turned your chair, so you were facing him. 

"We don't want to hurt you, do we, Reader?"

The sentence shouldn't have given you hope, because after all, you were more than sure that you were going to die one way or another.

Maybe you should have shown a little resistance. For your honor, but....

Oh?

He is so close to you that you can practically feel his body heat. Or was it your own? Your face, despite your situation, was burning. 

Even though he said he was letting you go, his hands ran over your body and you couldn't deny that it did something to you. 

Were you so shameful?

"Actually, I wanted to wait, but I couldn't take it anymore.  I've been patient long enough, haven't I? It was so much work for me, to let you get this job."

You didn't know what to say. Honestly, you didn't know if you would even be able to answer him. 

His breath touched your throat as he spoke, "I think I deserve this, don't I? What do you say, Reader? Do I deserve my reward?”

If you were going to die anyway, why not enjoy the last few minutes?

Regardless of whether he was a doppelganger, he had lived up to his title as "Mlikman" that night.

_

"You killed the real Francis Mosses?" you asked the next day. 

Francis grins, almost so much so that his real form was threatening to show itself.

"Yes, of course. What would have happened if he had come before me? You would have sent the D.D.D. after me."

Well, he had a point, huh?

No matter how wrong it was, you were glad it didn't come to that. 

You didn't know the real Francis Mosses. That's probably why his death was so insignificant to you.

"Have you killed more people?"

"Just more doppelgangers you let through."

Your eyes widened. 

You were so sure you caught them all. The false success was the reason why you didn't quit…well, it was one of the reasons.

"How many have I let through?"

Francis just continues to wear his smirk as he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"Don't rack your pretty head over it, okay?"

You just nod, smiling.

"Are you going to kill others...?

You don't know why you added your next question. Probably because you wanted to feel special. 

"Would you kill for me?"

"Hooooonn"

When you turn your gaze to his face, two white pupils stared at you and his grin is inhumanly wide and black. 

You don't know if it's joyful or sadistic, but it definitely made you feel special.

_

Looking back, you made more than a few mistakes. 

But honestly? 

You don't regret a single one of them. After all, all of them have led to an all-too-familiar knock on your window.

When you look up, he waves, the milkman. 

[yuujispinkhair]

its time for single dad!kuna and his albino kiddo, uraume x elementary teacher!y/n

OMGGG THAT SOUNDS SO COMFORTING AND SWEET 💗😭 Okay I had to write this! I hope you like it!

Single Dad!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. 800 words. Divider @/chilumitos

When you start your job at the new school, everyone warns you about a certain pink-haired, tattooed dad.

"Oh you have Uraume in your class? Well, good luck then."

"Why?"

"Oh, it's not the child that is the problem. It's the dad!"

Your coworkers tell you about this huge, grumpy man who always barks out orders and complains left and right the whole time because he thinks his child isn't getting treated correctly.

When you first meet Sukuna, you really are intimidated by him. He is tall and muscular, almost filling out the whole doorway and towering over you. A very attractive man, but scary with those tattoos that tell you he must lead a life in crime or at least must have been involved in something like that at some point. He sneers at you while his eyes sparkle threateningly,

"A new teacher, huh? I sure hope you will do a better job than the ones before you. I won't accept any carelessness when it comes to looking after my child!"

Sukuna's voice is harsh, and his gaze is full of anger. But you listen patiently to him and realize that this is just a man who is worried about his child. A child who doesn't really have any friends and is sick all the time and gets bullied for it.

You can understand Sukuna. Can understand the helpless anger you see in those maroon eyes. Like a tiger who is ready to kill for his cub but doesn't know how to handle the everyday tragedy of his child being an outcast in school.

You smile warmly at him and tell him in a soft voice,

"I understand that, Mr Itadori. You are worried about Uraume. I promise you that I will have a close eye on them. I won't look away when someone bullies them. Uraume is a lovely child and amazing the way they are. I will do my best to guide them on their way to becoming a confident and happy person. Thank you for coming to me with your worries."

And you see this big, bad, angry man falter and blink at you in confusion because, apparently, none of the other teachers ever reacted the way you did. But he catches himself after a moment and tells you he will watch you closely before he leaves without a farewell.

You keep your word and look after Uraume, praising the child for the exercises they excel in and sitting the whole class down to discuss with them that it's not okay to make fun of others for the way they look, etc. Teaching them that everyone is different and that this is okay. You even assign group projects, where you pair Uraume up with some kids who you know are sweet and won't be cruel to them.

Three weeks later, you walk out of the school in the afternoon when all the kids have already left, jumping when a low voice speaks up next to you. Sukuna is leaning against the wall of the building, smirking at you, maroon eyes wandering curiously over you,

"I came to thank you, Miss. Uraume told me about how much fun they are having at school now and that they even found two little friends. They told me you are the best teacher in the world."

You break out into a big smile, eyes filled with happiness,

"I am so happy to hear that! Uraume is doing so well! I am so proud of them and so happy that they enjoy coming to school now!"

And Sukuna pushes himself off the wall, taking a step closer to you. So tall and broad, but he doesn't seem all that intimidating anymore. There's a little smile tugging at his lips, and his intelligent eyes are warm when he tells you in a low, velvety voice,

"All the other teachers ignored my complaints or refused to talk to me anymore and sent me to the principal, who was just as incompetent. You are the first one who took my words into account and let actions follow. I thought this school was a hellhole, but you changed my mind."

You chuckle softly, feeling a bit flustered at the intense gaze out of those beautiful maroon eyes and the praise coming from this attractive man.

"Thank you, Mr Itadori. I am glad."

"Sukuna."

"Hm?"

"Call me Sukuna, please. It will sound nicer if you call me by my first name while we have coffee together."

And with that, his grin grows broader, and he jerks his tattooed chin toward the little café down the road, making your heart flutter excitedly as you smile back at him and nod softly,

"Yes, that sounds really nice, Sukuna."

[deathbxnny]

Can you do how the arcane characters would react to you having a Panic attack/panick attacks

Arcane characters reacting to you having a panic attack! | Caitlyn, Sevika, Jinx, Vi x Gn!Reader

Thank you for your request, Anon! I absolutely loved writing this, so I hope you'll enjoy it!<33

Content: Panic attacks, fluff, swearing, established relationships, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》CAITLYN

Her first instinct is to immideatly take you somewhere safe and private when she notices the panic attack approaching. She has very good intuition and has observed you for long enough to know your cues and signs, but sometimes even her own senses about you fail her during acute attacks that come out of nowhere. This doesn't mean that you can't rely on her to take care of you anyway.

"Hey, hey... let's breathe together, okay? Alright. Deep breathe in... hold it... and now release slowly... good job, let's do it again."

She's very quick to react to your needs and usually tries to regulate your breathing first before anything else, as that's how she learned to deal with them in her medical training. Caitlyn will also try and keep some distance in between you two in case you need space and only come closer once you're ready for that. She's very gentle and patient, as she soothes away your fears and worries.

Later on, she'll gently hold you and spoil you with nice food whilst you finally calm down and rest. Cait won't ever push you to tell her what triggered you, but will encourage you to tell her how she can help you better next time. Something she'll probably write down somewhere for future reference for better efficiency.

》SEVIKA

The first time it happens to you around her, she'll admittedly be a little surprised. It's not like she hadn't seen panic attacks before, but she simply just never had to deal with them before. With that said, her first instinct is to wonder if someone had bothered you and, if so, how quick she can beat them up for hurting you like this. The last thing she wants is for someone to ruin that beautiful smile of yours, and the sight of you suffering like that makes her feel uneasy.

"Alright, tell me what you need, and I'll do it for you right now. I just... fuck, tell me how to help you, sweetheart."

Sevika will lean down to your level after also taking you somewhere private so that she can let her guard down in peace and focus on you. She's not good at comforting people no matter who you are, and she's certainly also not the most affectionate person out there. But she knows to keep her distance and focus on what you need from her in that moment. Your hyperventilating and short breaths worry her, but that's nothing she can't handle with some direction from you.

After the panic attack blows over, she'll demand a detailed list of what exactly she should do better next time. She doesn't like being unprepared, especially when it comes to your care and well-being.

》JINX

She has memorized absolutely everything about you and is the first person to notice when a panic attack is coming up, which makes her the best helper out there at that moment. Jinx immideatly springs into action and brings you to her hideout, where she knows things are safe and sound. No one can hurt you here, especially not with her around. She'll sit on the ground with you and take your hands in her own carefully. The girl doesn't make any sudden moves and just observes every reaction you make very closely, practically analyzing them to know what to do next. And her voice would be so calm and soothing whilst she speaks.

"It's alright, cuddlebug. No one's laying a hand on ya whilst I'm here... so let's just breathe together."

Jinx doesn't want you to feel alone whilst you're going through this and will be right there with you until the last of your tears have been shed. Afterward, she'll either cuddle you to sleep or get you something nice to eat. Either way, you're being treated like royalty by her, just because she doesn't want you to feel like she did when she still had to suffer through everything all on her own. Having you here is a blessing, and taking care of you was a way to pay you back for it.

》VI

Despite what people may think, Vi's intuition about other people has never failed her. She always feels so deeply for others. It isn't all too surprising when she is quick to notice your mood shifting drastically out of nowhere. Once the panic attacks start, she'll have enough past experiences to take care of you as well as she can. It may not always be perfect due to her inability to express her love and affection all too well in moments of panic, but she'll still pull through for you. Getting you out of danger and into a more secluded area, she'll wrap her jacket around your shoulders and try soothing your quick breathing.

"Hey, hey, hey, let's calm down, okay? I'm right here. Nothing can hurt you."

She may honestly slightly panic herself, especially as seeing you so distraught messes with her own emotions, too. Vi hates to see you suffer, and the last thing she wants is for you to potentially get hurt if you don't calm down.

Vi will most likely ask you what she can do better next time as well, since she secretly feels a bit disappointed in herself for not being able to do more for you. But she's open to learning how to be perfect for you next time, that's for sure.

[thehauntedetheral]

Yan Tribe X Reader

Requests are open!

• You were a camera woman for discovery channel. You loved your job. After all you get to travel world with your crew, see and explore the most interesting wonders, and get paid to shoot all of that in camera. What more can you ask for? Yeah your love life sucked because you were never at a one place for long. But who cares? You have your camera and your passion.

• Your crew has been assigned to shoot a new show by channel which is showing and telling people about the tribal life and community of an x forest. You were excited.

• You shooted and captured all the things about the tribal community. The people were friendly once they warmed up to your team. They showed and told you everything about their community, about forest, their lifestyle through a member of yours who knew their language and translated everything.

• You got to know about many tribal traditions, rituals, festive, their beliefs, their worships, hunting, farming style but what caught your attention was a certain tall, muscular young tribe man.

• He would always be with your crew even if he is not needed. You were shooting a particular episode on the womens in tribe? He was still there silently just observing you all especially you in a way you didn't notice.

• Your crew tried fishing for some fun in break time. And as usual your clumsy self would trip and ruin everything embarassing yourself. He would later leave a basket full of fish for you silently.

• You noticed that he was kinda good looking. Okay not kinda but a lot good looking with his huge built, dark black tribal tattoos covering his tan arms and chest, his sharp bone jewellery giving all Tarzan vibes with his long black hair tied in half bun that many women in community wished to be his mate. Also because he was a excellent hunter.

• You once told someone in community casually that you wished to taste raw natural honey from honeycombs like other tribals but were scared due to honeybees and he heard it. Well next day he gives you a huge piece of honeycomb anonymously ,freshly teared by him even though it caused him serval stinks from honey bee because this was not the season to collect honey but he would do anything for you.

• Their community had a practice where once in a year men would wear their best dresses, jewellery trying to impress womens and get their attention. This was a special episode that you weren't shooting but the other cameraman was doing because you were on the other side of forest with a few crew members shooting some shots of forest for another episode as your time of departure were close and you have to finish your work fast.

• You finished your shots. And walked a bit around the forest a little more to explore while your fellow mates moved back to see the celebration.

• You saw yan tribe sitting all alone under a tree. You felt sad seeing him all alone like this instead of being in the celebration with others. Well might be the women whose attention he is trying to grab chose someone else in competition you thought.

You tried to console him by speaking in your broken fluency in their tribe language which you have learned by staying with them for months. You were scared that you might have said something offensive to him unconsciously due to the language barrier because his expressions didn't change but became serious.

He only looked up at you and held your hand in his and said "MATE". You knew your speaking and listening skills towards his language were below average but you were 101% sure what mate word that he said means. And that scared you to dead because seeing his big strong hand holding your fragile one tightly made it clear that he is not going to let you leave at any cost.

Want part 2? Let me know through comments.

Requests are open!

For more yandere reading:

[henrycangelbaby]

Thinking about John Price and his cute little assistant (reader) who ends up pregnant. 

A/N: Guys i was inspired while scrolling on the john price x reader tag, this legit came to me as a vision and now i have to write it (I plan on expanding on this idea so just stay with me!!!!)

Imagine being John Price's cute little assistant, just the sweetest little thing that John is kinda obsessed with. Like don't get me wrong she is amazing at her job, smart, put together and well organized and John does feel that her addition has been a positive one, taking some pressure off his shoulders and making sure his team is always prepared for whatever they are doing. She is very good at what she does, but that doesn’t stop John from admiring her. He knows he shouldn't be bit, he can't help it, she's young and sweet and a little bit innocent and he just wants to protect and love her all the time. 

In the beginning she was shy, only addressing him as sir and knocking on his door hesitantly whenever she needed to speak to him but gradually their boundaries became less and less. More often than not she works out of his office, whether he’s there or not, he insists on buying her an early lunch when she lets slip that she didn't have breakfast that morning. He has even picked her up from a night out once or twice, a little bit tipsy and calling the most trusted person she can think of that just happened to be her boss. He takes care of her as well, helping her get her makeup and clothes off before tucking her into her bed with a bottle of water and pain killers for the morning. He doesn't mention it when he sees her next, knowing how embarrassed she will be when he tells her the loneliness her tipsy self admitted. 

When she starts to get sick John is having absolutely none of it, driving her home and ordering her to take some time off (he even visits later that night to bring her some soup for her stomach). He doesn't expect her to look so sad when she comes back supposedly better from her “flu”, he doesn't expect to see her eyes shine with tears when he asks “what's wrong babygirl?”.  He sits them down on the couch in his office together, putting an arm over her and pulling her close for comfort. He certainly does not expect her to look up at him with those shiny wet eyes and admit she did something bad before crying that she's pregnant. It’s news to John who never even considered that his girl would be dating (let alone sleeping with) people. When he vocalizes this and she admits that her baby daddy isn't a very good guy, it's over for John. 

Suddenly he's all over her, promising to be there for her, that she can come to him whenever she needs. And he actually means it. Suddenly she’s staying in the spare bedroom in his house, not only does it have more room but John can keep an eye on her. She entirely moves into his office working on his desk with him, he gets her a comfy chair so she can be supported in the later months. He gets up to hold her hair back when she has morning sickness and ensures she gets enough nutritious food each day. When she starts showing, oh my god John doesn't know what to do with himself. That little bump peaking out of her tight skirts makes him foam at the mouth. Of course he prioritizes her comfort, insisting she change shoes and stop wearing those uncomfortable looking heels, but he keeps her in her formal work attire for just a little longer, just so he can see her cute tummy poking out of it. 

Speaking of her bump. He simply can't resist putting his hand on it. He feels so protective over it, best believe he goes feral if anyone tries to touch it. Hell all but breaks loose when his precious baby looks up at him with teary eyes telling him how uncomfortable she was when some rando put their hand on her stomach, (someone definitely lost their job that day). He eventually has her sitting in his lap, cooing over her and reassuring her that they won't get in trouble, that really he is the big boss anyways. He just loves having her there, perched on top of him he rests his head on her shoulder both arms coming around to cradle her now bigger bump. 

John mandates maternity leave when she starts getting big, maybe around seven months when she spends a lot of her time complaining about back aches and swollen ankles, of course he does what he can to help her but it gets to the point where he knows that she should be resting. He has to basically forcibly put her on leave, reassuring her panics about money by promising to take care of her. And oh boy does he. He gives her foot massages and holds her belly, when she starts outgrowing her clothes best believe he would hand over any of his so she can fit in them more comfortably. He's just all over her, unable to stomach the fact that soon she will have a real live baby. That baby is about to become the most protected baby in the entire world.

That's all I have for now because I fear if I begin rambling about the rest of the 141 neither of us might make it out alive. (just know this baby is going to be so damn spoiled it’s crazy). 

[andwordsarefutiledevicess]

press relations

stanford!artdonaldson x sportsjournalist!reader

summary: assigned to write a profile of stanford's rising tennis star, you get to know art better. much better.

warnings: smut, dry humping, b0ner alert, implied consent

a/n: this does have a *hint* of art x patrick x reader undertones at the end! any (constructive) feedback is appreciated :)

you get the message as you exit the lecture hall and head to the cafeteria for lunch. “other writers are busy. can you take the art donaldson profile?” reads the text from your editor. having written for the stanford daily as a sports reporter for the past year, you’re no stranger to turning a dull interview with a rather dim-witted football player into an oh-so-riveting piece. however, this is out of your comfort zone.

tennis is…boring. sure, you’d happily tagged along to a couple of tashi duncan’s matches, unwilling to pass up the opportunity to see an olympic-bound athlete in her prime, but it isn’t your ideal way to spend a saturday afternoon. 

and yet, that is exactly what you are doing. the donaldson interview is lined up for directly after his match with a ucla player. “he’s got a tight schedule, so we need to accommodate him,” said your editor when you questioned why you had to sit through a match and then manage to cram in an interview in the men’s fucking lockerroom. 

art donaldson is a year above you, living in the same dorm. you recognize most athletes at this point—in part because they’re constantly (obnoxiously) sporting team merch, and because of your job—but art is known by most for his friendship with tashi duncan. neither are particularly social, keeping their circle tight amongst fellow tennis players, both at stanford and professionals. 

it’s difficult not to stick out in the bleachers. while other players, including a brown-haired boy cheering quite loudly, observe the game, it’s by no means packed. as donaldson pauses for water after the first set, he catches your gaze, giving an awkward wave in acknowledgement as he wipes the sweat from his face. you silently pray that he knows you’re the reporter he’s supposed to speak to, and doesn’t just think you’re some crazed tashi duncan fangirl. 

his playing is statuesque, long limbs sweeping across the court (but not entirely stripped of the boyish energy that defined his success as a high school student). after beating his opponent 2-0, donaldson steps off the court, dramatically embraced by the brown-haired spectator, who you have since realized is his former doubles partner, patrick zweig, and you take this as a signal to get this interview started before he becomes swept up in celebrations. 

climbing down the bleachers, you see art duck down into the hallway, making his way into the locker rooms. in all your time as a sports reporter, you hadn’t had such an…unconventional… interview location, and you feel a bit sick as the sound of the shower draws closer. 

“art donaldson?” you say, standing just outside the open door of the locker room. 

“yeah” he calls back, as though he was expecting you, but not entirely welcoming the intrusion. the shower turns off, and the soft sound of his steps on the tiles echo. “well, come in,” he calls again. 

you step into the steam-filled space with your eyes directed down. “i understand you have physical therapy shortly, so i’ll try to keep this quick—,” you say, taken aback as you finally draw your eyes upward. he’s managed to pull on a pair of checkered boxers, fabric sticking to his still-damp body. 

you can’t imagine you look particularly composed, hair sticking to your face from the steam with a burning blush spread across your cheeks. you watch as art bites his cheek and awkwardly motions for you to sit on the bench across from him as he methodically changes the overgrip on his racket. 

“so,” you say, clearing your throat, “how did you first become interested in tennis?” he glances up from his task. “my parents needed someone to watch me, and my grandma was busy, so they stuck me in a local tennis camp. i doubt they realized that they were signing up for over a decade of tennis running my—and their—lives.”

you hum in agreement. “and what specific areas of your game are you hoping to improve on this season?” you follow up. his gaze becomes more intent—more focused. setting the racket to his side, art stands, before quickly realizing he’s still only boxer-clad. you stare at the opposite wall, hoping to save him the embarrassment, and you see him fumble to slip on shorts out of the corner of your eye. he clears his throat. “ – um – yeah, i’m trying to get faster on my feet. sorry, i—” he says, before you cut him off in protest. “no, no, i should have given you a moment to clean up after your match, it’s my fault,” you say, rising off of the bench awkwardly, avoiding his gaze. 

but with the lingering steam, and your downward gaze, your fumble to exit the locker room instead lands you into direct contact with his chest. “shit! sorry,” you exclaim, drawing your chin up. a wash of heat cascades from your head, nipples taut, despite the warmth of the room, as your body reacts to the sudden proximity. art is equally flushed, pink lips slightly parted and chest rocking as he concentrates on breathing deeply, trying to lower his racing heart. you can smell him, fresh with a hint of that post-game sweat, a droplet of water falling from a blonde curl. 

he brings a calloused hand to your hair, brushing it behind your shoulder, as if to ask permission. the slight nod and glaze of your tongue over your lips is enough for him to understand, his breath heavy against your face as your noses are close enough to touch. that final centimeter is finally closed, and it’s as though air rushes back into you while inhibition is tossed out. without thinking, your hair tangles into his mess of damp hair, and you feel his soft moan against your lips. you gasp as his hand grabs your ass, drawing you into contact with his erection (for how much of that interview was he hard?). 

“you—ah—you have physical th-therapy,” you say, breathless as he works his mouth down your jaw and neck. “just…five more minutes,” he says in between kisses, like a teenager wishing to sleep in, causing you to chuckle. bringing your left knee up, your hips are suddenly flush against his, and the new contact sends you both reeling, his cock twitching in his shorts. you tentatively rock, again, against his groin, and you both seem to realize that that hit the spot. pushing your back against a locker, art draws his groin against yours again, and again, his soft pants becoming near whimpers as your lips meet for a desperate, sloppy kiss. 

you’re lost in the rhythm the two of you have found, ignoring the rattle of the lockers with each thrust. fuck you’re embarrassingly close (that’s what a two month dry spell will do for you) but before you have to worry about coming too early, you hear his strangled voice in your ear. “ – f-fuck, s-sorry i’m close, was so pent up.” before you’re able to reply, your body has taken this as permission to let the orgasm wash over you at last. still reeling from your own orgasm, you feel the warm spread of art’s cum seep through the thin fabric of his shorts, as he continues to rut against you. 

bringing your arms up to hurriedly fix your now-tangled hair, you draw away from art. a fresh blush comes to your cheeks at the realization of how silly you feel, grinding like a pubescent teen. art seems tired, yes, but not embarrassed, slipping off his pants and boxers and replacing them with clean ones. before he’s got his wits back, you’re out the door, praying no one managed to overhear the encounter. to your dismay, patrick zweig, smug as ever, sits outside the locker room.