You always wondered what your parents did for work. If you had to guess, you’d say it was something shady just from seeing the type of people they associated with—big, scary, tattooed men who looked as if they could snap you in half with their bare hands.
Although they seemed to live a less than pure life, they made sure to keep any wrongdoings away from their precious daughter. Everything they weren’t offered by their own parents were given to you—the best education money could buy, posh classes to teach you to be a ‘proper’ lady, frequent trips to whatever high end fashion boutique caught your eye that week. Anything you wanted was yours—as long as you stayed their good little girl, which wasn’t hard at all. You were on the deans list of your university, didn’t drink or smoke, and most importantly, you didn’t fool around with boys.
Alas, being their perfect little girl who they treasured so much came with a few stipulations. Constant supervision. Cameras were placed in every room of the house, minus your bedroom and all the bathrooms, tracking devices were placed on cars and in phones, and the worst of them all—a ‘babysitter’ was called when they’d be out of town for more than a few days. It was usually a stuffy old man with a bad attitude.
Someone your parents knew would keep tabs on you and make sure you didn’t do anything you weren’t supposed to, which you wouldn’t have anyways, but they just wanted to be safe and you were fine with that.
You were fully prepared to stay in your room and study for your upcoming exams, maybe invite your friends over for an innocent sleepover or two, maybe even spend a night on the town—with permission, of course—but those plans were uprooted when you finally got a look at who’d be supervising you for the next few weeks.
“…um, hello?” You frowned in confusion at the man on your doorstep.
You had to practically crane your neck back to get a proper look at him because he was so tall.
“I–uh, my parents aren’t here.” You mumbled.
There was no way he could have been here for anyone else.
He fit the mold perfectly for the type of person who’d do business with your parents; an intimidating aura, tattoos, weirdly colored hair. Yes, it was clear he was the type of person your parents told you steer clear of, and you intended to do exactly that.
“You can reach them on their phone.” You went to close the door but was stopped by a shoe wedging itself between the frame.
“Ah, but I’m not looking for them, I’m looking for you.”
The man smirked, his round glasses sitting on the tip of his nose. “I’m your trusted babysitter.”
You blinked.
“Huh?” Huh? Where the hell was Alfred? Your usual babysitter? Why had your parents sent a man who looked like he was here to take your possessions, and quite possibly your life, instead of watch over you? “You are?” Maybe you should call your parents, just to make sure…
“Of course I am!” His smirk widened as he shouldered the door open, cologne wafting up your nose as he stepped past you and into the house. “Why the hell else would I be here, doll-face?” You hesitantly shut the door and followed after him, hands twisting together as you watched him look all around the house and in different rooms, lips pursed as he nodded his head, a low whistle leaving his mouth when he got to your room. He turned his head to give you a sly grin. “A room fit for a princess.”
“Oh, uh, thanks.” You scratched your arm and awkwardly looked around. “What’s your name? I’m (Y/N).” You politely offered your hand to him.
“Hanma.” He took your hand in his and raised it to his mouth, his wet lips pressing a slow kiss on the back of it, golden eyes staring at you over the rim of his glasses. “Nice to meet you.” You flushed and quickly averted your eyes, eliciting a chuckle from Hanma. “So, what’s up with this? Why do you need a babysitter? You’re in college, yeah?” He asked as he took a seat on your bed, legs spread wide.
