Mar 4, 2025
Crespi Bonsai (Bonsai tree store) - Via Boccaccio, 4, Milan IT (1991)
Designed by Donatella Borgoglio Motta
Scanned from the book, Nuovi Negozi in Italia 3 (New Shops in Italy 3)(1995)
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from Russia
seen from France
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Italy
Crespi Bonsai (Bonsai tree store) - Via Boccaccio, 4, Milan IT (1991)
Designed by Donatella Borgoglio Motta
Scanned from the book, Nuovi Negozi in Italia 3 (New Shops in Italy 3)(1995)
National Bonsai & Penjing Museum, Washington, DC
photo: David Castenson
☆ zen PNGs made by me ੈ✩‧₊˚
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚pls like or reblog if you use! ty ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
04 | ᢉ𐭩
⟣ 𝓢𝓸𝓯𝓽 𝓡𝓾𝓲𝓷 ⟢
𝓑𝓵𝓾𝓻𝓫 after getting hired to work in the Jeon household, you slowly find yourself adjusting to the quiet routines of a life that was never meant to include you.
𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 Jungkook x reader
𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮 rich husband au, nanny au, slow burn, smut, angst, domestic tension
𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 explicit language, married jungkook
𝐰𝐜: 2.3k+
You had only meant to bring back the folded laundry left outside Yuna’s room, arms full of tiny sweaters and pajama sets that still smelled faintly like fabric softener, when the bathroom door further down the hall suddenly opens before you can pass it completely.
Mr. Jeon steps out of the bathroom with wet hair pushed loosely away from his forehead, dark strands curling slightly at the ends from the water still dripping down the side of his neck. A towel hangs over one shoulder while another sits low around his waist like he put it on without thinking much about it afterward. His skin still looks damp from the shower, and for one horribly long second your brain decides to notice entirely too many details at once before you immediately force yourself to look somewhere else.
The problem is that he acts completely normal.
Like this is nothing.
Like standing half-dressed in the middle of the hallway while talking to you is somehow the least unusual thing happening today.
And maybe for him it is.
“Oh,” he says simply after noticing you standing there. “Good timing.” Your grip tightens slightly around the folded clothes in your arms.
“I—sorry,” you answer automatically, because apologizing has always arrived faster than thought. “I didn’t know you were—”
“It’s fine.”
His tone stays calm. Casual. Unbothered. Which somehow makes the situation worse. You force your eyes upward again only long enough to maintain basic eye contact, though it becomes difficult immediately when droplets of water slide slowly down the side of his neck before disappearing beneath the towel resting against his shoulder.
You look away again. Quickly. Annoyed at yourself for noticing at all. “Do you have something planned right now?” he asks.
The question catches you off guard enough that you blink once before answering. “I was probably just going to stay with Yuna.”
Mr. Jeon nods lightly. “The staff can watch her for a bit.” Then, after a short pause “There’s something I wanted to show you.” You stare at him for half a second longer than intended.
Something?
What kind of something?
But before you can ask, he continues casually “Come to my office in fifteen minutes.” And then he walks away like the conversation made perfect sense.
Leaving you standing there alone in the hallway still holding Yuna’s clothes while your thoughts unsuccessfully try to organize themselves into something coherent.
The next fifteen minutes pass painfully slowly. Not because anything important is happening. Because nothing is. And somehow that gives your mind enough room to overthink everything anyway. Did you do something wrong? Was this about work? Did Yuna break something?
Why did he sound so casual?
And more importantly—why are you nervous?
By the time you finally stand outside his office door, you’re already irritated with yourself for thinking this much about something that probably means absolutely nothing.
You raise your hand to knock, but before your knuckles even touch the wood, the door opens.
Mr. Jeon stands there already dressed now, hair still slightly damp but properly styled enough that it no longer falls into his eyes. A fitted white polo stretches cleanly over his shoulders, sleeves hugging his arms just enough to look unfair without seeming intentional, black trousers sitting low against his waist in a way that somehow looks even more composed than the towel did earlier. Which feels ridiculous. Because this version of him should affect you less. Not more.
“There you are.” A small smile touches his mouth briefly before he steps aside slightly.
“Come with me.” That’s all he says. No explanation. And somehow you still follow him immediately.
The garden outside feels different later in the afternoon. Warmer now. The sunlight softer against the stone paths as you walk beside him through the trimmed greenery in silence that somehow doesn’t feel uncomfortable anymore.
You notice the new bonsai tree before he says anything.
Placed carefully near the smaller section toward the side, still resting beside gardening tools that hadn’t been there before. Your eyes move from the tree back toward him in confusion.
Mr. Jeon notices instantly. Lifting one brow slightly. “I thought that corner looked empty.”
You blink once. Then before you can answer, he continues:
“And I thought maybe you’d want to help.”
Something in your expression must shift slightly because the corner of his mouth moves faintly afterward. “You said you liked things like this.” The sentence lands strangely softly somewhere in your chest. Not because of what he said. Because he remembered. You hadn’t realized he listened that carefully at all.
“Oh,” you answer quietly before nodding once. “Yeah. Of course.”
Mr. Jeon picks up a pair of gardening gloves before stepping closer. “Here.” You instinctively reach for them yourself, but he lightly catches your wrist before you can.
“Wait.” His voice stays calm. Completely unaffected. Like none of this feels remotely intimate to him.
He opens one glove carefully before sliding it over your hand himself, fingers briefly brushing against your skin while adjusting the fabric properly around your wrist.
Your throat suddenly feels strangely dry.
And the worst part is that he still seems entirely normal.
At first, he explains everything patiently. Which roots matter. How deep the soil should sit. Why trimming too much too quickly damages the shape. You try focusing properly. Really.
But concentrating becomes difficult when he stands close enough that his voice feels lower somehow, quieter beneath the open air of the garden. Still, you manage well enough until your second attempt at adjusting one of the smaller branches.
“That’s too much pressure,” he says gently. Before you can fully move away, Mr. Jeon steps closer behind you.
Then closer.
One arm appears beside you first. Then the other. Suddenly you’re standing between them before your brain fully processes what happened. His hands settle over yours carefully, adjusting your grip against the branch while leaning down slightly to see what you’re doing.
Your entire body goes painfully still. Not because he’s doing anything inappropriate. That’s almost the problem. To him, this clearly means nothing.
Just instruction. Just helping.
Meanwhile all you can think about is the warmth surrounding you from both sides, the clean scent lingering from his earlier shower, the way his damp hair brushes dangerously close when he lowers his head slightly near yours.
Your temples almost touch once. Barely. But enough that your heartbeat immediately betrays you afterward. “Like this,” he says quietly.
Completely calm.
Completely unaware.
Or maybe aware and simply unaffected.
You can’t tell which feels worse.
“I see,” you answer, though your voice sounds slightly thinner than usual to your own ears.
Mr. Jeon slowly lets go afterward, stepping back without hesitation while you stare down at the bonsai tree pretending your thoughts aren’t currently collapsing into each other.
By the time you finish, soil covers parts of your sleeves and smudges lightly across your forearm. There’s apparently dirt near your cheek too, judging by the quiet laugh that suddenly leaves Mr. Jeon when you look up again.
You blink.
“What?” He shakes his head once, still faintly amused. “Nothing.” But he’s still smiling slightly.
And somehow seeing that catches you more off guard than the earlier touch did.
The two of you wash your hands side by side at the outdoor sink near the garden entrance afterward, warm water running over dirt-stained fingers while the late afternoon air settles comfortably around the silence between you.
Mr. Jeon glances briefly toward your arm. “You should probably shower.” You look down automatically. Soil covers part of your sleeve. There’s dirt near your wrist too. “You got completely covered in soil.” His tone stays so casual that embarrassment creeps up your neck almost instantly anyway.
You rinse your hands quietly for another second before speaking again.
“When is Mrs. Jeon coming back?”
The atmosphere shifts slightly after that. Not awkwardly. Just enough to remind you of reality again.
Mr. Jeon dries his hands with the towel beside the sink before answering. “I’m picking her up from the airport tonight.” You nod slowly.
“Business trip?”
“Mm.” He folds the towel neatly afterward. “She had meetings overseas.”
And just like that, the moment settles back into place again.
**
The rest of the afternoon passes more slowly after that.
The kind of quiet that settles naturally after spending too much time around the same person in a single day without realizing it.
By the time you return inside after showering and changing, the house already smells faintly like dinner somewhere downstairs. Staff move calmly through the halls carrying trays and folded linens while the evening sunlight stretches long across the floors through the tall windows.
You find Yuna in the living room surrounded by what looks like complete destruction.
Crayons everywhere.
Half-open stickers stuck to the table.
A doll missing one shoe.
And Yuna herself sitting cross-legged in the middle of it all looking deeply concentrated over something she’s drawing.
The second she notices you, her entire face changes.
“You back!”
The excitement in her voice makes you pause for half a second before smiling despite yourself.
“I was gone for like twenty minutes.”
“No,” she argues immediately. “Long time.”
You laugh quietly while sitting beside her on the carpet. “Really?”
She nods dramatically before immediately climbing into your lap without asking permission first, small arms wrapping loosely around your middle while still holding one of the crayons in her hand. You freeze only briefly before relaxing again. Children attach easily. You know that.
Still, something about how naturally she does it catches you off guard every time.
“What are you drawing?” you ask softly.
Yuna lifts the paper proudly.
Most of it is impossible to understand.
There are random circles. Crooked lines. Something purple aggressively covering half the page. But near the middle, there are three stick figures holding hands. One taller. One tiny. And one beside them. Your eyes stay on the drawing slightly longer than intended.
“That’s daddy,” Yuna explains immediately, pointing at the tallest figure.
Then herself.
Then finally the third one.
“And you.”
Something warm and uncomfortable settles strangely inside your chest at the same time.
You force a small smile anyway. “You drew me?”
“Mhm.”
Yuna nods confidently before leaning back against you again like this position belongs to her now.
Children really do decide things frighteningly fast.
Later, when dinner ends and the house grows quieter again, Yuna refuses to let go of your hand even once while walking upstairs.
“Yuna,” you laugh softly. “I’m not disappearing.”
“Yes you are.”
“I’m literally right here.”
She shakes her head stubbornly anyway, tiny fingers tightening around yours. You glance briefly toward Mr. Jeon walking a few steps ahead of the two of you. For a second, amusement flickers faintly across his expression before disappearing again almost immediately.
“She gets attached easily,” he says calmly.
The sentence sounds casual.
But something about it still makes you look down at Yuna again afterward.
Because somehow, hearing it out loud makes the situation feel more real.
Inside her room, bedtime becomes unnecessarily difficult. Not because Yuna is energetic. Because she keeps trying to extend every moment possible.
One more story.
One more question.
One more drink of water.
At some point, she crawls directly into your lap again during the middle of the storybook and refuses to move afterward. You continue reading anyway.
Her small head rests against your chest while her attention slowly fades in and out between the pictures and sleep itself.
The room becomes quieter with every page.
Until eventually
“Don’t go home tonight.”
The words come out so suddenly and softly that you almost miss them. Your eyes lift from the book slowly. Yuna’s gaze stays heavy with exhaustion while looking up at you.
“You stay here.”
Something tightens unexpectedly in your chest.
Before you can answer, another voice speaks first.
“She can’t stay every night, Yuna.”
Mr. Jeon’s tone stays gentle from where he stands near the doorway, arms folded loosely across his chest while watching the two of you quietly.
Yuna frowns immediately.
“Why?”
“Because she has her own home too.”
Yuna thinks about that for a second.
Then looks back at you again.
“…but I like when she’s here.”
The room goes strangely still afterward.
You don’t know what to say immediately.
And for some reason, when your eyes lift briefly toward Mr. Jeon, you realize he’s already looking at you. Not unreadable this time. Just thoughtful. Like he’s noticing the same thing you are.
That somewhere along the way, this stopped feeling temporary to Yuna. And maybe that should concern you more than it currently does.
⟢ prev ⟡ index ⟡ next ⟣
The Batplane was designed to prevent catastrophe, even in the worst of circumstances.
Statistically speaking with a man as experienced and prepared as Batman behind the controls this shouldn’t have happened.
Probability became irrelevant.
She still went down.
Bruce is practically catatonic as Jason tugs him out of the wreckage, he’s using pure will power to look back praying that his children are not dead.
That he didn’t kill them.
Jason seems to be consistently obscuring his vision, he’s about to demand his second moves when-
Batman has woken up.
Jason’s positioning is not accidental, it’s the protocol Batman himself put in place.
Used for victims, in order to not further traumatize them.
Protect them having to gaze upon corpses.
Jason is hiding his dead brothers from their Father.
The Red Hood is attempting mercy, the way any bat would and any other day Bruce would be thankful.
Today Bruce begs for the mercy Red Hood is most infamous for, but Jaylad only has rubber.
-
Dick is willing to actually attend church after this debacle the moment they get back to civilization he’s finding one.
Everyone unharmed other than cuts and bruises is enough to thank god.
Bruce seems to be the most fucked up but neither himself or Tim can pinpoint why, Jason had done an assessment while dragging him but nothing medically seems amiss.
“Shock?” Damian’s suggestion certainly the most likely but, considering this is Bruce, all of them are…doubtful.
A plane crash is not the worst thing to happen to Batman would this result in such an excessive response?
All four of them have gathered to peer at the clearly not doing too hot Bruce who’s still unmoving from the tree Jason had pretty nicely leaned him up against. Waiting for something…
“Maybe it’s the cherry on the cake, camels back kinda thing…I mean respectfully he wasn’t all that sane originally love him- but…” Tim’s idea certainly had merit as fucked as everything that just came out of his mouth is.
And based on Jason and Damian’s lack of protest clearly an example of saying the quiet part out loud.
“Father is extremely..Father, however Drake’s hypothesis does seem to have merit.” Damian sounds almost amused his littlest brother giving a kick to their Dad’s still form really doesn’t help.
Jason actually laughs still smoking the cigarette that even in a plane crash is never far from his hand.
“Ok well, I’m so glad I hardwired the young justice comns to my suit so give or take thirty minutes and Impulse will be here with a ship for all us. I debated telling Kon to hang back and wait but given Bruce’s overall…issue figured he should go straight to Alfred.” Tim’s and Damian’s racing hearts has alerted Kon and Jon to the issue luckily but neither himself or Jason particularly wanted to be flown back by their little brothers worried boyfriends.
So said little brother’s other worried boyfriend’s spaceship was a good alternative.
“You too could have gone while we hung back-“
“Neither of us were going to leave-“
“We’re not abandoning you-“
“Jason is right you-“
“Jaylad-“ Bruce’s voice is weak. Nothing quite like a newly awaken adopted Dad to destroy brotherly banter.
Even if the fact that Bruce is ignoring all of them to stare at Jason slightly stings.
“Nice of you to join the land of the living, was worried we were gonna have to find you an Arkham cell, I hear they’re cozy.” Bruce doesn’t seem to even understand Jason only nodding.
“No Jay, you were right..you always were Arkham doesn’t work…”
Ice, every muscle has turned to ice glancing as Tim and Damian the coldness is clearly catching. Jason’s stumbling back, never in a million years did anyone think Bruce would say that.
“The Joker deserved to die for killing you Jay and I deserve this too, please Jason.” Bruce is begging, pleading Jason is staring at him and Dick has no fucking idea what to do. Neither him or Jason seems can puzzle out what the fuck Bruce is even asking.
Tim sucking in a breathe draws their attention, Damian going four shades paler is heart-attack inducing.
His little brother’s in a second going from horror to anger.
Damain’s already stalking forward moving too quick for them to even attempt at grabbing him. Tim actively pushing him away to follow.
Damain yanking Bruce by the collar of his suit no regard for a possible head injury slamming Batman into the tree. A five foot three teenager holding a grown man would be comical if it wasn’t for the darkness in those green eyes.
“Never in my life Bruce did I think you stoop so low and I had to practically leash you after Jason’s death-“ Tim’s radiating fury.
“Father it is only because of Richard’s disappointment that I do not run you through, than again isn’t that what you want-
“Asking Jason, our brother, WHO YOU, practically disowned to kill you because what you think we’re fucking dead? Oh right how could I forgot Bruce fucking Wayne always has to be the martyr!”
“Your a hypocrite and when I say this know I mean it, any hint of respect you even earned is gone your not my Father and certainly not my Batman. If it wasn’t for my brothers I would be on the first plane to Mother, at least when I bend the knee to Grandfather I know I’m not worshipping a coward.”
Dick’s not present for what happens after mind hiding in a much safer place.
Both him and Jason check out.
Later he will learn that Bart and Kon picked them up, wrapped them in shock blankets.
Bruce is sent somewhere, for a man that once mattered so much he seemed meaningless now.
Tim and Alfred have some discussion that results in said man leaving the manor. Damian not a step behind his little brothers united.
Tim takes over as Batman, Damian his Robin. They run Wayne Enterprises.
Arkham was overhauled.
By the time they are present again his little brothers have set up a well oiled machined.
Both himself and Jason have been coxed into therapy and it’s six months later as he’s watering a bonsai tree and Jason is reading two feet away in the library that they even realize somehow they have no responsibilities and aren’t actively contributing to society.
“Shh Richard look at the tree.”
“Jason I have a new book…”
“This is not gonna work forever you little shits!”
“Look me dead in the face and tell me you are not enjoying your back no longer hurting!”
“Little brothers are the worst.”
“We give you a garden of bonsai trees there is just no pleasing you sometimes Richard!”
“Bludhaven needs me!”
“Dick, Jason guess who’s here?”
“WALLY, KORY, DONNA, ROY, GARTH?!?!”
“ARTEMIS, RENA, KID DEVIl?”
“Nicely done Batman.”
“Right back at you Robin.”
Makoto Azuma: Frozen Pine (2010)
lone tree
Tumblr Sexy Tree Contest Round 1
Christmas Tree
Yggdrasil
Bonsai tree