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ayyy-pee · 10 months

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Pairing: Suguru Geto x Female Reader

WC: 6.7k

Summary: You’d never met anyone like Suguru Geto before. It seems strange that just a few hours ago, you’d never seen or heard of this man in your life. But it feels like you're drawn to each other in ways neither of you can explain. There's a pull you couldn’t resist if you tried.

Rockstar AU

Story Warning: Smut, Blowjob, Mutual Masturbation, Female Masturbation, Profanity because come on..., Sprung Suguru, Cumshots, Facials, Cumplay (a lil bit), Fingersucking, A sprinkle of power dynamic, Oral Sex, First Day Hookups

Suguru art by: @affectbitter

AN: There's some OCs in this one bc this was just a funny idea between me and some friends LMAO. Imagine them however you will!

The roar of the crowd is almost painful in your ear as you enter the venue. You’ve made it just in time, with minutes to spare.

“Excuse me. Sorry! Just gonna squeeze past you here…I’m sorry…”

The apologies fall from your lips as you navigate through the crowd of people in the arena. You’re trying to find your way backstage before the concert begins for this band… Demon Parade?

An up and coming group, quickly rising in stardom who you never would have heard of had you not been scouring the job boards for an easy and quick way to make money. Imagine your surprise when you found a job posting for them stating the band was in need of an efficient, organized assistant. A go-getter who would be willing to do anything to aid in their success and ride along with them.

You’d had some assistant jobs in the past, nothing too crazy, but you knew what the basic expectation of an assistant was. So you applied for the job, not thinking there was a chance in hell you’d get it, but you needed something and anything was better than nothing. Besides, the job came with all the perks: benefits, free travel, a food allowance. Sounded like a steal.

You got the call less than a week later, saying that you were a great fit and exactly what the band was in search of! It didn’t seem real at the time, even after you’d hung up, filled out your onboarding paperwork and were sent all of your information for your first day – the concert you were currently pushing your way through. It felt even less real when you received your all access badge at the arena doors.

You’d made sure to listen to a few of Demon Parade’s songs and you had to admit, you liked what you heard, but you wouldn’t exactly call yourself a superfan. Not like the crowd of people swarming around you as you hurried through to backstage. God, it was fucking packed.

Is this band that good?

The moment you enter backstage, you feel like you can breathe again. It’s less crammed, so you feel like you can relax a bit. But that feeling only lasts for a second before someone practically materializes out of thin air before you. They call your name, one hand coming up to tap the small earpiece in their ear, the other coming up to indicate for you to stop.

“Yep, she just got here,” They mumble into the earpiece. “I’ll bring her back.” They tap the earpiece again, waving to you to follow them. “I trust you didn’t have any trouble getting back here?”

“Nope, fairly easy,” you answer, quickening your pace to catch up with them.

“Good,” they make a sharp turn around a corner, speeding up and you feel like an idiot essentially running behind them. “I’m Jaz, the band’s manager. We don’t have too much time. I’ll give you a brief overview of the band and each member and then I’ll introduce you to them.”

“Oh, so just…immediately starting? Is there like…a formal training I should be going through first? Or a new hire orientation?”

“No,” they state. “Do what the band asks and if you do it well enough and the band likes you, you’ll be able to keep your job by the end of the night.”

Your eyes wide as you rush to walk next to Jaz. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. If you make a good impression on the band, we’ll keep you. We’re about to start a national tour in a few days and we need someone who will be able to get the job done. If not, we move on.”

“Okay, so just…do what they ask me to and…that’s it?”

“That’s it,” Jaz confirms. “It’s that simple.”

So this whole first day is a test…given with no actual instructions…Fucking weird, but who are you to argue?

You’ll just have to use your prior assistant knowledge to make it work. If you’ve done one assistant job, you’ve done them all. You think so, at least.

You hurry through the halls alongside Jaz, the hallways snaking around to the back of the venue where there are many different dressing rooms – one for each band member and one for the group. Jaz reaches a door with a sign taped to it with the name Demon Parade on it. Scribbled in the corner of the sign is what looks like a very poorly drawn penis.

Jaz sighs when they see the doodle and whips around to face you.

“First things first, a brief rundown of the band.” They fish out their phone to pull up a group photo of the members on stage at one of their concerts. They point to a beautiful brunette woman in the photo before their finger glides over to a tattooed man with his hair piled high atop his head in a loose bun. “This is Shoko Ieiri – our bassist – and this is Suguru Geto – our lead guitarist. Both very low maintenance, very easy to get along with because they most likely will take very little interest in you.”

They then point to a blonde man who looks about ready to clock out at any moment and then to a white haired guy with freakishly blue eyes. “Kento Nanami is our drummer and this annoying beanpole here is Satoru Gojo – our lead singer,” Jaz finishes, rolling their eyes when they point to Gojo. But you can see a clear fondness there with the way their eyes linger on the screen.

You nod, eyes locked on the heavily tattooed raven haired man on the phone. He looks a little bored, almost like he’d rather be anywhere but where he was at that moment. Even so, his gaze is intense. You know it’s impossible, but you feel as though he’s looking at you through the phone. It’s literally a picture taken at some random venue that you’d never seen in your life. But, it feels like he’s staring right at you. Those feline eyes of his look so deeply into the camera, peer so powerfully into your eyes through the screen, it makes you look away. There’s something about that guy, something that’s almost familiar…it makes a tingle race up your spine.

You’re not sure if the feeling is good or bad, but you don’t have time to think too much about it because Jaz is knocking on the dressing room door. A massive, burly man donning sunglasses is opening it, peering at you from over his shades. Jaz is moving past him, beckoning you to follow when you don’t move, cemented to your spot.

Because you’re still thinking about that fucking picture.

“Hey,” The goateed man says when you’ve finally entered the room. You notice then that he’s wearing a black windbreaker with Security on one side and his name on the other. Your eyes quickly drift down to his nametag.

Yaga…With a little panda sticker next to his name. This old guy loves cute things apparently. It’s sweet, makes you smile.

Yaga quickly introduces himself. “Nice to meet you,” He grunts, no smile returned. “I’m head of security for the band. My name’s Yaga.” He doesn’t await a response from you, turning to speak with Jaz instead and you take that time to have a look around in the interim.

The dressing room is incredibly spacious. In a corner across the room, there’s a snack table full of an assortment of candies and bags of chips with the members' faces on them as well as an array of drinks. Large couches are arranged throughout the room, enough space between them to give each member their own little area to lounge in. There are also vanity areas along the back wall with brightly lit mirrors and chairs for each member.

You’re assuming it’s Shoko who sits in one of the vanity chairs getting her makeup done. She is the only female member after all. She’s as beautiful in person as she appears in pictures, though her hair is a lot longer than in the picture Jaz showed you earlier. She’s on her phone scrolling boredly, but when the door clicks shut, your eyes meet in the mirror and she waves quickly as the makeup artist applies her lipstick.

“Hey,” is all she says.

On the far side of the room is a blonde man reading a newspaper, he glances up for all of two seconds when you enter the room and then he’s back to reading. Next to him is a girl who can’t yet be in her 30s, leaning her head against his shoulder. They look cozy together. Maybe they’re dating? You make a mental note to ask Jaz about this later.

Just a few steps away from you, seemingly appearing out of thin air by the snack table, is Satoru Gojo, lead singer of Demon Parade.

His eerily blue eyes glance up when you enter the room, and then he shoots you a beaming smile as he leaves his spot by the snacks and strolls over. He grins at Jaz who has now made their way back to you, rolling their eyes again as Satoru gets closer.

“Jaz,” he purrs. “What do we have here? A meet and greet?” Gojo asks, eyes locked on his manager. His gaze wanders over their clothes as if he can see straight through them. “You look good. Missed you last ni–”

Jaz holds up a hand, cutting him off and getting straight to the point. They introduce you to Satoru, Shoko, Nanami and the woman sitting next to him who you’ve learned is Nicole – their vocal coach, though she doesn’t appear to be doing much vocal coaching while she makes googly eyes at Nanami.

Yaga sighs as he goes back towards the dressing room door and Jaz follows behind him, pulling their phone out and typing away. You don’t miss that the moment Jaz is putting their phone back in their pocket, Satoru is pulling his out to quickly glance at his screen, smirking before he slides it back into his pocket.

Okay, there’s clearly something going on there.

“Call me if you need anything,” Yaga utters to Satoru, but Satoru isn’t even listening anymore. He’s back at the snack table rummaging through the available items. Yaga pulls the door open to let Jaz exit first. Behind you, you hear him briefly grunting an “excuse me” as someone else enters the room before he’s also gone.

And you can’t really explain it, but the moment this other person enters, the air in the room shifts.

At least for you.

They move past you, their bare arm just barely brushing against your own and you startle at the charge of pure electricity that jolts through you at the near contact. They seem to feel it too, because they pause, whipping around to look at you and you’re met with those sharp, cat-like eyes you’d just seen peering through a screen now staring into your own. That familiar tingle you’d felt outside of this very room zips back up your spine.

Suguru Geto stands before you, his beautiful face framed by his signature raven locks that now cascade around his shoulders. He’s somehow even more striking with his hair down, beautiful. He says nothing as you stare each other down, the air between you thick with something you can’t quite describe. The room around you blurs as your vision seems to hone in on Suguru and Suguru only.

It’s after a few moments of tense silence that Suguru breaks eye contact first, eyes trailing down your form. And suddenly you feel as though you’re under a microscope, being so closely examined by him. You can’t help but feel exposed. He tilts his head to the side, his hair falling with the motion. He cards his fingers through his strands, pushing them back, eyes narrowing when they meet your gaze again. His brows knit together for a moment and then he speaks.

“Have we met before?”

Your pathetic body reacts immediately, melting the second his voice reaches your ears. Goosebumps race across your skin, even as your body feels like it’s being engulfed in heat. Your heart feels like it’s crawling up your chest and into your throat, your pulse is beating behind your ears so hard it’s making you dizzy.

What is this?

You don’t understand this sudden racing of your heart, the way your hands feel clammy, the explosive reactions your body is having to him simply looking at you.

Suguru leans his head to the other side and the movement brings you back to reality, helps you to remember that you’re just standing there like a fucking idiot when he had asked you a question. You shake your head quickly, suddenly unable to find your voice.

Suguru looks you over once more, almost like he doesn’t believe your answer, until Satoru interrupts.

“You’ve never met her. She’s our new assistant. Starting today,” he announces, mouth full, from what seems to be his permanent spot by the snack table. He tells Suguru your name. Suguru quickly glances back at Satoru before his eyes drift back to you again.

“Yeah?” Suguru asks, eyes still on you. You can see Satoru turn back to the snack table from your peripheral, picking at different candies. “Nice to meet you. I’m Suguru,” he states.

For some reason, it dawns on you then that Jaz is no longer there to speak for you. You’re on your own. Jaz’s earlier words ring through your ears. Whether or not you get to keep this job depends on how well you do tonight.

So you clear your throat, finding your confidence again. You know what you’re doing and Suguru is essentially your boss. Just like the other members, so you needed to build a relationship with him all the same. “Yes, I’m your new assistant and I’m very excited to be able to work with you all. Please let me know what you need and I’ll do my best to make sure you’re all happy.”

A small smile graces Suguru’s features and the tiny motion has your heart picking up speed again.

Fucking relax.

“Yeah, I got a couple things you can do for me,” he voices.

“Okay,” you glance back towards Shoko who is eyeing you through the reflection of the mirror. “Anyone else need anything before the show?” She shakes her head indicating your assistance isn’t necessary. You look to Nanami who couldn’t look less interested in what’s happening right now. Next to him, Nicole shakes her head as well.

“All good here,” Satoru says, waving you off. “Suguru, be nice.”

“When am I not?” Suguru chuckles, closing the distance between you and slinging his arm around your shoulder. The contact makes your skin erupt with goosebumps once again.

Only this time, you feel a little less crazy about your body's seemingly random reaction to Suguru’s touch because as you glance down at the arm wrapped around you, see the telltale sign of goosebumps along his skin, too.

- - - - - -

Suguru doesn’t have shit for you to do. The concert is happening soon so there’s not much else left to do that the other staff hasn’t already taken care of. He’s not sure why he lied to you, but the moment he saw you, there was something familiar about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He’s certain you’ve never met, he would’ve definitely remembered your face; lovely, beautiful, stunning, all the words that could describe how nice you were to look at. Looks aside, there’s just something about you that has his mind reeling.

He’d heard from Jaz that the band would be getting a new assistant today. Didn’t make a difference to him, staff was staff. He was sure the new assistant would be fired by the end of the night, if not the end of the week. They could never keep an assistant too long, most of them deeming Satoru too needy, Shoko too cold, Suguru too mean. The list went on and on. The simple truth of the matter was Suguru had a goal, a plan for his success and if an assistant wasn’t able to hang in there for the ride, then they weren’t worth his time. Suguru stopped caring about who their assistant of the week was a long time ago.

So what was it about you that had him hiding you in his dressing room until the show started; showing you his favorite guitars, asking you about how you got this job, wondering how you liked it so far, if you’d heard their music? Any other assistant he’d have running to get him a coffee, doing menial tasks just for laughs. But for you, he’d grabbed a coffee with you and spent that time practically bombarding you with questions the moment he had you alone. Suguru knew more about you in 20 minutes than girls he’d dated for months. And he had no idea why he cared so much.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” You ask. Leaning against the wall of his dressing room, Suguru watches as you sit on his dressing room couch, strumming the strings on his guitars.

“I mean, it shouldn’t matter.”

“Jaz made it clear I need to keep you all happy or else…” you make a dramatic slicing motion across your neck, pulling a laugh from Suguru.

After finding out Suguru did not actually have anything for you to help him with, he spent a few minutes trying to calm your mini panic attack where you told him about how nervous you were. How badly you needed this job. So he’d brought you back to his dressing room to hang out where no one would see you aimlessly wandering.

“The guys said they’re good, so no need to worry about them. They’re happy right now,” Suguru reassures you.

“And you?” You ask, eyes meeting his from across the room. It makes him inhale sharply, trying to calm the swift pounding of his heart. “Are you happy?”

He nods. “I’m happy.” You pluck a string on his guitar, the offkey note cutting through the tension Suguru was beginning to feel. “Despite your horrible guitar playing skills, I’m happy.”

You laugh. “Rude.” You pluck again, this time the note is more bearable. “If I make it past today, I’ll be on the road to continue on tour with you guys,” you told him.

“Oh yeah?” His eyes look on as your fingers dance along the strings of his guitar awkwardly. He could show you how to hold a guitar, how to hit a note that’s not offkey, but he’s enjoying watching you struggle a little too much. It’s cute, though his body’s reaction to watching the way you hold the neck of the guitar is…less appropriate than what the situation calls for. “Has anyone ever told you you have really nice hands?”

Because he wouldn’t mind having your really nice hands wrapped around his cock.

The question comes out before he can stop it. For any other groupie he’d brought back to his room, the answer to the question wouldn’t have mattered. He’d just be making small talk, he wouldn’t have even meant the compliment. But for you…he was mesmerized by the way you held his instrument, the sight filling his head with lewd thoughts.

You freeze at his question, glancing back at Suguru. “No…thank you?”

Suguru chuckles, moving from his spot on the wall to take a seat next to you. The air immediately thickens, this close proximity to you making it hard for him to breathe. “You are…really bad at guitar.”

“Oh my god, were you this mean to your past assistants?” The question comes out with a giggle, as you set Suguru’s guitar down next to you, turning to face him.

He smirks, turning his body to face you as well. “Only the ones who are shit at guitar.”

“Oh, so you let all your assistants hang out in your dressing room and show them your instruments then?”

“Nope.”

If anything Suguru was way fucking meaner to his past assistants. In less than two hours, you already had him cleaning up his act.

You make a face, scrunching your nose up in Suguru’s direction and he decides he likes you already. Yeah, it’s only been a few hours, but he wants to see that face more often. The choice wasn’t up to him, though. You had to impress the other members, too. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t help you along the way.

A light knock at the door interrupts Suguru’s thoughts.

“Yeah?” He calls and Jaz peers their head in, brows furrowing when they see you on Suguru’s couch.

“She was cleaning my guitar for me,” Suguru lies easily, motioning towards the instrument next to you. Jaz either believes him or doesn’t care because they don’t even acknowledge it any further.

“Showtime, let’s go.”

- - - - - -

Suguru had been nice enough to give you some tips on how to ensure the band was happy after the show.

“Nanami loves a good coffee and a book set up in his dressing room after a show,” he’d noted. “Satoru is easy. Leave him some of those little mochi candies with the red bean paste inside? He’ll eat like fourteen of them and pass out. Shoko literally just wants to be left alone after dealing with Satoru all day. Put a cigarette and a bottle of liquor – any kind – in her room and she’s set.”

“And you?” You asked, nervously fidgeting in the hall outside of Suguru’s dressing room. Suguru had kept your mind off of panicking and inadvertently pissing someone off on your very first day. With no delegated tasks, no orientation or training and no clue in hell about each member’s preferences, you were truly grateful to Suguru for all he'd done for you on your first day. He was your lifeboat today.

“Me?” It seemed he’d forgotten he was also a part of the band, which was even more endearing to you. He’d been more concerned with making sure you were successful today than his own needs.

“Yeah, you. I want to make sure everyone is satisfied.”

Suguru hummed a look flashing behind his eyes and disappearing as quickly as it came, it still sent a shiver up your spine all the same. He placed a hand on your arm, inhaling slowly. His eyes locked onto where his hand lay on your arm, like he could feel the way your stomach twisted, the way your breathing increased, how your pupils dilated just from his touch.

And Suguru could feel it. Because his body was reacting the exact same way.

“I’ll be fine,” he breathed, letting go of your arm. “Hopefully at the end of the night, Jaz will have good news for you.”

He turned to leave, but not before calling back, “I’ll see you after the show.”

Now you stand on the side of the stage, unable to stop staring at Suguru as his hands fly along the strings of his guitar with ease, beautiful notes carrying out of the instrument and dancing around the stadium for the audience to hear. You can’t get over the duality of this man.

Backstage he’s chill, if not a little intimidating. But in the short time you’d spent together, you found it easy to talk to Suguru and open up to him. He was funny, smart, insanely talented. You did not expect a rockstar as big as he was to be so down to earth.

Now as you watch Demon Parade perform their last song of the night, you can’t help but think Suguru is the sexiest man on earth. The way his hair whips across his face when he shakes his head to the music, how his large hands control every note that drives the song, how his rich voice blends smoothly with Satoru’s to really push the message of the songs across. And when Suguru’s really feeling it, the way he lets the world see the tiny metal ball sitting atop his tongue.

He is so insanely sexy.

It seems every little move he makes has the crowd losing their minds, men and women alike screaming his name. And you can’t blame them, occasionally rubbing your own thighs together to stoke the heat pooling between your own legs whenever Suguru would peer over to the side and grin at you mid song.

Fuck, working with him may end up being harder than you anticipate. If you are able to keep this job, you’ll likely have to maintain a friendly distance. You don’t trust yourself not to do something stupid with the way your body seems to respond to him any time you’re near each other.

When the show is over, Satoru thanking the crowd for coming out, the band members all go their separate ways to their dressing rooms. You wait in the hall, standing with Jaz who again is on their phone. They seem to always be working, but this time you watch their fingers fly across their phone screen, a tiny smirk on their lips. You bite down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from smiling.

You’re pretty sure Jaz and Satoru are sleeping together.

You nearly jump out of your skin when Jaz clears their throat, their eyes boring into your own. Did they hear…your…thoughts?

And then they smile. “Just got the green light from the band. You’re in.”

Eyes wide, you stand there gaping like a fish until you finally find your words. “Just like that? I mean…there’s not a formal meeting or anything?”

Jaz shoots you a deadpan look, like you’re wasting their time with your stupid fucking question. “Look around you. Nothing about today was formal. Get used to it. Go home, pack your bags. I’ll email the details of where to meet us in the next couple days before we get on the road. Be on time please. Don’t miss the tour bus leaving.”

They turn on their heels before you can thank them, making their way down the hall (in the direction of Satoru’s dressing room, you can’t help but notice).

The clean up staff moves hurriedly around backstage, rushing off and on the stage. And you just stand there, the giddiness of the news bubbling in your chest. You want to scream about how happy you are, but you contain it, instead opting to go tell the person who helped you to lock in your spot today.

After a short trip down the winding halls of the arena, you knock softly on Suguru’s dressing room door. It doesn’t take him long to answer, the door swinging open and revealing him in a loose fitting tee and some sweats. His hair is damp from a shower, strands clinging to his face, cheeks flushed. You can practically feel the heat of his bath radiating off of him.

He’s as captivating off stage, like this, as he is on stage. You can’t help but stare.

“Hey,” he breathes, voice rough.

“Hey,” you practically sigh, cheeks heating furiously.

It’s just you two, standing there, staring at each other. The world continues to move, it all becoming a blur as you refuse to look away from the other. You, watching as the flush on Suguru’s cheeks slowly creeps from his face, down his neck and to the exposed part of his chest the ‘V’ in his shirt allows you to see. Him, watching as your chest rises and falls, breathes picking up rapidly as he gazes at you.

You’d never met anyone like Suguru Geto before. It seems so insane that just a few hours ago, you’d never seen or heard of this man in your life. Now in this moment, standing before him in front of his dressing room, it feels like he has a pull on you that you couldn’t resist if you tried.

“Just heard from Jaz. Looks like I’ll be going on the road with you,” you tell him, voice coming out smaller than you’d intended.

“Yeah?” His low voice is nothing but a whisper, eyes darting down to your lips quickly before they shoot back up to your eyes.

“Yeah.”

Then his tattooed hand is cupping your face, your arms are looping around his neck, his mouth is colliding with yours as he pulls you into his dressing room, slamming the door behind him. It’s dizzying, the heat rolling off is his body, his scent invading your senses. The hand touching your face slips to the back of your neck, making you sigh into his mouth. It’s so fucking unfair how a move so simple had the power to make you melt into a puddle for him.

Suguru’s body molds against yours as he pushes you against the door of his dressing room, pressing his own arousal against your thigh. And you gasp, the thick feel of him making you moan.

“Fuck,” Suguru presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek, rolling his hips into you. “I don’t know what it is about you,” he groans, kissing along your cheek again, rolling his hips into yours once more.

You feel the same, like there’s something about him that keeps drawing you to him. The stars only seem to continue aligning in your favor. First getting this job, this trial run day, meeting Suguru, Suguru helping to make sure you got to keep your job and you actually getting the confirmation you needed. It’s like you were meant to meet one day. You’re eternally grateful.

You press a kiss to Suguru’s lips, your hands finding their way into his hair and pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. He slips his tongue into your mouth, further deepening the kiss, trying to taste everything you have to offer. You’re panting into his mouth as he rolls his hips into yours roughly.

“I want you,” Suguru breathes against your lips. “I want you so fucking bad, I’m losing my mind.”

His mouth is back on yours, hands grasping at your waist, pulling you as close as he can. You want him too, you probably want him just as badly as he wants you. But there’s time for that. You’ll be on the road together for months. That’s surely enough time to have each other every which way you want. But tonight, you want to show Suguru how grateful you are to him.

“Let me thank you for today,” you offer Suguru breathlessly when you break the kiss. His brows knit together for a brief second before they rise at the same time you fall to your knees before him.

“Are you sure? You don’t have t–”

“I want to,” you assure him. Suguru gulps, nodding as he watches you wet your lips.

Hooking your fingers into the elastic of his sweats and briefs, you tug down, freeing Suguru’s erection and wasting no time wrapping your hands around his length. It’s just the way Suguru imagined when he watched you strumming his guitar. Better than he imagined, actually. He shivers when your hands grip him, your mouth watering with the thought of tasting him as you watch a drop of precum form on his tip.

He’s big. Bigger than you had pictured. You swallow, thinking about how in the hell you were going to be able to possibly fit all of him in your mouth.

“Take it slow, baby,” Suguru tells you, as though he can tell what you’re thinking. He brings a hand down to gently caress your cheek.

Peering up, your tongue peeks out of your mouth, tentatively flicking against the head and Suguru sighs shakily, staring intently. He watches you closely, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek as your lips fall open and you wrap them around his cock. You take him into your mouth, slowly sinking down as far as you can go before you pull off and sink down again.

Eyes locked, you watch with hardly concealed elation as Suguru’s pupils blow out, dilating so much you can no longer make out the color of his eyes.

“Fuck,” Suguru’s hips buck forward like a reflex, head falling back as a deep groan falls from his lips. Your mouth is so warm, so fucking wet. He wants to revel in the feel of it. Doesn’t want you to suck him so good he blows his load down your throat yet. He looks back down at you, at the way your mouth is stuffed full of him and you’re not even halfway down. Suguru utters a curse under his breath.

“Stay right there,” he tells you, rougher than he intended, he knows it. But it’s so fucking important that you don’t move right now or he’s done for. “Just hold it - ahhh, yeah just like that, angel.”

You place your hands against his thighs, holding yourself still with Suguru’s cock in your mouth. The weight of him on your tongue, the sound of his harsh breathing, his hands gently holding your chin, it all makes a delicious heat pool in your core.

Suguru takes a deep breath, pushes his hair back with his hands as he exhales. He’s trying to catch his breath, trying to keep his composure right now, but fuck. It’s so hard to hold it together with the way your mouth is stretched around him, with how he’s just barely halfway in and he can already see the tears brimming in the corners of your eyes as you try to take all of him.

Suguru’s had his fair share of flings come back to his dressing room with him, sure. But you… there’s something about you that has his heart thundering in his chest, has his cock throbbing within the wet confines of your mouth, has him reaching down to caress your cheek and wipe the pooling tears away as you try to take him deeper. Your eyes close with the action.

“Look at me,” he pants. And you do, your beautiful gaze finding his again. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” he purrs, loving the way you haven’t moved since he told you to stay. You’re already such a good girl for him. “Think you can take more?”

You mutter a muffled agreement against his cock, still not moving. Just the vibration makes Suguru’s balls tighten, a threat that he’s not going to last very long with you.

He hopes it won’t be like this the next time.

He also hopes there is a next time.

Because he’s beginning to realize something. It hasn’t been that long since he met you. Hell, it’s been less than a day. But, he’s so fucking into you it’s insane.

You peer up at him from beneath your lashes again and Suguru hisses the moment your eyes connect. He runs both hands through his hair, his thick black locks cascading around his face as he looks down at you.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. You know that?”

You nod your head, tongue pressing against the underside of Suguru’s cock as you slide more of his length down your throat. You’re not going to be able to take all of him. He knows it.

You shift on the floor, thighs rubbing together to give you some sort of relief from the aching arousal between your legs. Suguru doesn’t miss this. You’ve worked hard. You deserve to enjoy yourself, too. It’s not like you got to keep your job only because of him after all.

“Touch yourself,” Suguru commands. “Play with that pretty pussy while you suck my co–” His voice cuts off, a harsh groan ripping from his throat when you move forward, one hand squeezing his cock as you try to take even more of him, the other slipping into the waistband of your pants. “So fucking good...” he whimpers, and you can’t help but moan when your fingers finally meet the onslaught of wetness that’s been rushing between your legs, absolutely soaking through your panties.

“Jesus,” he murmurs, petting your hair before gently fisting the strands between his tattooed fingers so that you’re forced to look up at him. “Ah…I love how hard you’re trying, baby. Think you can take it all the way for me, angel? Can you take it all the way into that tight fucking throat for me?”

You nod enthusiastically, eager to please with a mouth full of Suguru’s cock and your fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. The vision has Suguru’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. “You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he sighs. Suguru pulls you forward, and you let him, going as far as you can until you’re gagging on his dick, the drool pooled in your mouth dripping from the corners of your mouth.

Even still, that doesn’t stop the moans escaping, the little mewls that let Suguru know you were fucking loving this as much as he was.

“Ah – fuck, fuck–” Suguru breathes, pulling you off of his cock with a loud pop. “I can’t,” he pants. “I can’t. If you do that again, I’ll cum –”

You didn’t wait for him to finish, taking Suguru in your mouth again, taking him as deep as you can go before pulling back and taking him in again. The lewd squelching noises of your slick fingers playing with your sweet little pussy and the mixture of your spit and Suguru’s precum hitting the floor of his dressing room fill the air. You take him to the hilt, your nose buried deep in his thick raven curls.

And Suguru’s hips began to move, fucking into your mouth as he held your head in place. This was what you wanted, right? Suguru warned you. He’d warned you what would happen if you swallowed his dick like that again, if you choked on his cock like you just did one more time. He warned you and you kept going, pushing him closer and closer. So he couldn’t help it when his body tensed, when his cock stiffened, when his thighs shook and his cock twitched in your mouth.

He couldn’t help it when he pulled out of you as quickly as he could, pumping his cock with a quick “fuck I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, baby–” muttered before his cum shot out of his swollen tip, covering your cheeks, your throat, your tongue and your chin.

And you couldn’t help it when you pushed two fingers into your tight hole, pressing your thumb to your clit the moment Suguru’s cum covers your face. And you see stars, clenching hard around your fingers as waves of your orgasm crashing over you until your vision nearly blurs.

“Shit,” Suguru murmurs with a sigh, the aftershocks of his orgasm sending shivers up his spine. He takes your arm, pulling your hand from your drenched panties, closely looking over the sheen of your release covering your fingers. He parts his lips, taking the digits into his mouth and sucking, licking your hand clean of your orgasm before he kisses you hard, shoving his tongue into your mouth immediately and groaning when he tastes the mixture of both your releases. He doesn’t even seem to care that his own cum now covers his face. The sexy grunts and moans tell you he loves it.

When he breaks the kiss, he looks you over, licking his lips of the mess he made between you. “Let me get a towel to clean us up.”

He stands, pulling his pants back up to his waist before he lifts you from your spot on the floor. You hear him shuffling around in the bathroom area as you take a seat on his couch. He returns shortly, sitting next to you. You close your eyes as he gently wipes the warm, damp towel over your face. “God, you almost killed me.” Suguru huffs quietly.

You chuckle, opening one eye to peer up at him. “Damn, am I that good?”

Suguru smiles, chuckling. “Let's just say, I’m not ever letting them fire you.”

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

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drdemonprince · 2 months

Note

Do you worry about being so open about your sex life under the same name you use professionally? How did you settle on your current approach to talking about kink/fetishism publicly?

That's my question. Below is some background but feel free to ignore it.

I'm asking because, like many people, my kinks are integral to my sense of self and engaging in BDSM has been significant for my psychological wellbeing. I don't like keeping these important aspects of myself separate from the rest of my life and I'm jealous of the people I meet at munches who share openly kinky stuff on their regular Instagrams. But I also have relatives on all of my socials, including a few adult family members who take any opportunity to create drama or get on their high horses, and teenage cousins who obviously shouldn't be given information about my sex life.

I like using social media to connect with people, and it feels harder to do that when big parts of me are walled off. I'm so worried about sharing anything 'inappropriate' that I'm only presenting this bland, watered down version of myself and it makes me feel alienated. Making side accounts is one option, but it feels like compartmentalising and involves more 'personal brand' management than I care to juggle.

That's without even touching on in-person disclosures. How do I embrace these aspects of myself without acting like they're shameful, but also without being obnoxious or unfair on other people who might not want to know?

I know "authenticity" can be an unattainable ideal, especially on social media platforms that necessitate curation, but I do want to stop tying myself in so many knots over this (in the figurative, unsexy way).

Sorry for venting in your askbox.

Yeah, I have a lot of thoughts on this.

I don't worry about the potential of my speaking openly about my sex life ruining my professional life because I hate my professional life and professionalism in nearly all forms. I have nothing but contempt for the academy, social psychology, my employer, the publishing industry, 99% of the organizations that hire me to provide workshops, and a decent-sized subset of my readers who are of the more liberal end of things. Alienating myself from these institutions and people and making myself incompatible with their viewpoints feels as necessary to me as breathing air.

when I was very young I was concerned with making myself palatable to academia and shucking off everything that was unprofessional and hillbillyish and childish and weird about me, but then I learned what success within the academy really entailed. I heard faculty members shrug and say they "didn't really care" about the topics they were studying (topics like racism, sexism, transphobia, etc) and were just publishing work on these subjects to further their own careers. I was trained to use questionable research protocols that generated false positives and specious results. Nearly all the research that I worked on for three years of undergrad and five years of graduate school would eventually be discredited due to failure to replicate. And I realized that I was being taken advantage of all the while, mined for cheap labor on meaningless projects that meant nothing scientifically, making $14k a year in a field where there were no future job prospects.

by the time i finished my PhD I knew that I wanted to be nothing like the people that had trained me and taken advantage of me, and that I had useless skills in a dying field. I was plenty happy to cut the shit by then and be real about who I was, what I believed, and what was and wasn't a virtuous use of my time. This only became more pronounced after I was screwed over by even more employers as a part-time instructor, and then finally hired full-time in a department that was doing good work, but which was constantly getting undercut by those in higher up administrative positions.

My entire career I have essentially been daring people to fire me and they never seem to do it. No matter how much shit I talk about the university and my profession and no matter how much I bear about myself, I just keep getting rewarded for it and allowed to float along relatively unbothered. There's a power in having a lot of audacity. I am not ashamed of who I am and I don't worry about how my employer and colleagues see me because as a whole I have zero respect for any of them or their opinions. (I have some individual coworkers who are great! but they dont represent Psychology or Academia as a whole or its values. my coworker friends are supportive of my freaky trans kinky self).

It's much the same dynamic in my family. I have no respect for the majority of people in my family and I don't concern myself with how they might react to the things I have to say. When I first started writing openly about Autism some relatives found it deeply offensive and talked a lot of shit about me behind my back, saying that I was embarassing all of them by associating us with a disability they found shameful, but my mom communicated to those relatives in no uncertain terms that I was gonna just keep doing whatever the fuck I wanted and they'd have to find some way to deal with it.

My mom had already learned that about me firsthand. I complain about her sometimes but I do have immense gratitude to her for just accepting who I am, even if there are elements of it she can't understand and probably does not feel good about. She learned a long long time ago that I was on my own separate planet and that there was nothing she could do to stop me from running my mouth and living my life, and I'm thankful to her for that. My actions have set the tone with my family pretty clearly: i came out as trans publicly before I told them, I started hormones and changed my name/gender marker without consulting them and then told them it was a fact already and they'd need to get in line. I approach most things about myself that others might take issue with in the same way: it's a fact, it's fucking happening, and you can't tell me shit about it that is going to keep me from doing it. and if you're too much of a dick about it I might end up writing about you in a book or essay so watch out, I guess.

That sounds more vindicitive than how I actually feel most of the time, of course. I just don't think about the opinions of people I don't respect. I care about what my friends think of me, and the people I look up to, and I try to rise to a level that is worthy of them. And of course I do experience fear of ostacism and failure in those respects and have not always coped with it in a confident, principled way. But with my aunts and uncles or my boss? Fuck them. I have no desire to win their approval because I've seen what they approve of and it sucks.

All of this is possible because I am not financially reliant upon my family, of course, and because if I lose my job I would have a back-up plan. I've always done freelancing and side writing gigs, even back when I was a part-timer with really insecure teaching jobs, and so the loss of any one position has never felt that catastrophic to me. I was already released by my PhD program into economically shaky ground and I never had a prayer of having a successful tenure track academic "career", so I'm not afraid of losing that. that's already gone. I feel generally pretty confident in my ability to scratch by making a living doing this or that even if somebody fires me, and I won't have to ask relatives for money so it really does not matter if I alienate any of them. that is an IMMENSE PRIVILEGE and someone not in that position shouldn't compare themselves to me or expect themselves to have that same degree of confidence. sometimes you have to just keep your head down to survive and there's no shame in that either.

as for the question about "authenticity" as an idealized end state and how to reconcile it with social media, here are some of my thoughts: it's not authenticity if it is focused on how other people interpret you. authenticity is letting go of trying to manage what other people think about you. that means you dont ever have to broadcast everything about yourself to the public or on social media, you dont ever have to share something that you dont want to, the pursuit of being perfectly understood is one that will never be fulfilled and there is no need to make oneself unnecessarily vulnerable just for the sake of appealing to people who might not ever understand and accept you anyway. authenticity is more about an energy than about revealment. it's an energy of self acceptance, not necessarily self love, and it's not something that one broadcasts, it's something one cultivates by developing secure, supportive relationships, improving one's self knowledge, and by working through one's baggage.

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pearwaldorf · 11 months

Note

Have you heard about what's happening on dreamwidth/FFA and volunteers talking about the dysfunction happening in the OTW and the CSEM incident?

I have! It's real fucked up!

(Blanket warning for discussion of CSAM/CSEM, as well as exposure to such in a volunteer context, in text and links below.)

For those who are unaware, failfandomanon (FFA) is an anonymous meme community on Dreamwidth for people to discuss all things fandom, serious or not. I think it tends towards kneejerk anti-purity wank, but it is one of the few places where people can talk openly about fandom things without it being traced back to a publicly identifiable handle. This context will become important later on.

You may remember last year AO3 got hit with emails containing CSAM and they had to lock everything down while they dealt with it.

A few days ago somebody on FFA asked about what happened re: the AO3 volunteers working through that period. Here is the tweet chain where I found out about it, with screencaps from FFA. Basically, said volunteers got a list of links to mental health hotlines and the names of people who volunteered themselves as resources for dealing with this stuff. Yeah. (As a tangent, the OTW has an estimated ~$2mm cash reserve. At no point did they decide to hire a counselor or any other sort of professional help to assist their volunteers in dealing with this.)

Impertinence has a good rundown of the timeline of events.

azarias, the person who became the defacto CSAM resource person (a truly horrifying statement), was traumatized dealing with this. The OTW used this opportunity to force her out because people on the Board didn't like her, realized they wouldn't have a defacto CSAM person, and reinstated her, expecting that she would go back to doing what she did previously. This goes beyond benign neglect into real actual harm inflicted upon volunteers.

Then! Then! THEN!! This message (FFA original) was sent out to everybody in the OTW volunteer Slack. Which basically says to volunteers "If we don't like you we'll come down on you like a ton of bricks if you talk about how we abused you."

I don't know who's keeping up on this on Twitter, but somebody started a Dreamwidth aggregating most of what you see above.

I know this is a lot of information to throw at people. I encourage you to read it and process at your own pace because this is important to understand. And while I believe this is trustworthy information (as far as I can tell), I'm not a substitute for your own personal judgment and brain.

It is clear to me the Organization of Transformative Works has abrogated its responsibility to its volunteers as people and as laborers on behalf of the organization. There is no formal mechanism for us as AO3 users or as people the organization claims to represent (members of fandom) to demand remediation on behalf of azarias or other volunteers who have been traumatized by this.

I expect there will be a lot more people than usual at the next board meeting (I do not see one scheduled currently), but they still don't really answer to us. If you donated at least $10 during the last pledge drive you're eligible to vote in the board elections, but that does not fix the current situation or the culture that lead to it.

As somebody who has been in fandom longer than some of you have been alive, and as somebody who's had an AO3 account since 2009, it grieves me to come to terms with the rot in the OTW culture, which is deeper than I could have imagined. It's one thing to see an organization drag its feet on things it promised to do years ago or misread the room regarding new technology. It is a whole other thing to have evidence it harmed people through active malice because they didn't like them and refused to make amends when confronted. That is not something I can support, regardless of what it may have done for fandom in the past.

#replies #Anonymous #otw #organization for transformative works #ao3 #archive of our own #otw fuckery 2023

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rights-for-redshirts · 2 years

Text

AU where Anakin drops out of training halfway through his Padawanship and starts a mechanic shop of his own. This, predictably, saves the galaxy.

Because let's be real, he would be insanely good at it. This leads to several patents running under his name by the time he is 18, including but not limited to

A very easy and cheap to build scanner that *can* be used for detecting slave chips (the Hutts are Not Amused by the skyrocketing number of freedom trail escapees. There is a bounty on his head because he is silently donating a lot of his money to the people organizing said freedom trails. Anakin is aware of this but doesn't let it show. It is a badge of honor, but not one everyone knows how to read. The people who do know know either way.)

a little addition to hyperspace antennae bc he wanted!! to talk to!! his mother!! more often!! that coincidentally completely revolutionized military communication (Anakin is unaware of this)

some type of hyperspace engine modification just because ships and space travel are cool. This also starts to revolutionise research in that area; "The Force told me I could" may not be a valid basis for a scientific project, but "How the kriff does that mechanic DO THAT" sure is

Probably some lightsaber modifications bc come. On. There's no way he wouldn't find a way to improve those. (In the ensuing legal battle, it is noted that the construction and possession of lightsabers is no longer prohibited to the general public. Some Jedi Shadows slip away and do some investigating into when exactly that was changed. And by whom.)

He can’t buy his mother back because even though he has the money now, Watto won't sell her in the hopes of extorting him with her welfare. Anakin is this close to hiring a bounty hunter to deal with this and rescue his mum by himself. Only is Shmi happily busy directing her fellow slaves to operation centers and has no intention of stopping by leaving the planet ("Mum, don't you always say the true tragedy in the galaxy is that nobody helps each other?" Yeah, that woman is SO organizing the resistance against the Hutts.)

While the Jedi aren't really allowed to help because of politics, a good deal of them (the chaotic good alignment faction, i.e. Quinlan Vos & Company) help whenever they can, brokering peace with the original natives (Tuskens and Jawas) to facilitate escape through the desert and prepare an interim government for the inevitable slave/native revolt against the hutts. The council turns a blind eye to this, because a) they know it's the right thing to do and b) the lightsaber permit headache.

It's up to you which faction Obi-Wan belongs to.

The Techno Union is extremely unhappy about their monopoly on, well, technology being broken. This leads to some more legal battles that ... idk, I didn’t think this through, but they lose. Badly, and this proceeds to drag the Banking Clan and Trade Federation down with them as further investigations are opened.

Padmé delightedly pounces on the opportunity to drag all of them down and get revenge on Nute Gunray; she and Anakin make a magnificent team by combining political/legal and technical/market expertise into hell of a headache for the people who would otherwise fund the Separatists. There may or may not be a passionate kiss over some legal evidence and spare parts.

Sidious, who had so far been trying to push all the pieces into position he will need for the Clone Wars while keeping Anakin friendly to him and slowly building public support, now has his hands full juggling a) the lightsaber construction legislature investigation from the Jedi, of which they keep him duly informed (stressful), b) Anakin hyperfixating on mechanics so badly he hardly has time to spiral, never mind build up resentment against the Jedi, c) the Techno Union, the Banking Clans and the Trade Federation slowly crumbling under the combined weight of Skywalker being stubborn, Amidala campaigning and R2 slicing some pretty damning evidence, taking the financial backing for the droid army with them; d) what do you mean, the attempt on Shmi Skywalker's life was thwarted by a random Jedi "passing through" and several hundred newly freed slaves?? Since when did the Outer Rim start getting democratic??, e) with the slow, but steady dismantling of the three most powerful enterprises in the Republic, the main reasons for secession (Republic inefficiency, corruption, and corporate greed using monopolies to choke smaller planets into financial ruin and dependency) slowly falling away, the reasons for a war also fade into nothingness and the Republic returns to functionality.

By that time, the Jedi Shadows, led by Mace Windu (who traced the lightsaber construction thing) and the Jedi Slave Freeers (who traced the attempt on Shmi's life) meet up in front of the chancellor's office like the spidermen meme, down to kill a chancellor for completely different but both very valid reasons.

Upon opening the door, they find Padmé Amidala with a Ysalamiri lizard and a blaster. The unexploded (because Force-blocked) body of the Chancellor is lying in front of her, three smoking holes in his chest (he tried to blackmail her into leaving the Techno Union alone by way of her affair with Anakin (that she, as a Senator from Naboo, is not allowed to have). She brought the lizard without knowing it blocked the Force, but she got it as a gift from Anakin, who told her it would keep her safe if ...).

Mace Windu deactivates his lightsaber and tells Padmé with a straight face to drop the gun. There might be fingerprints on it that could lead to the culprit.

#Credits roll #After the Kaminoans contact the Republic in annoyance about their ordered army they haven't picked up #They instantly get sued for human rights violations #The clones are depending on personal preference integrated into the Jedi Service Corps or Mandalore #Obi-Wan is chosen for the negotiations over citizenship with Duchess Kryze. The credits include a shot of them bickering over a #cake that may or may not be for a wedding #Dooku is on Serenno on a beach and argues pilosophy with the council over holocall.#star wars #au #clone wars #sw #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #long post #Anidala

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lorilujan · 13 days

Text

HAMILTON but replace the words "sir" and "son" with "bitch"

“Aaron Burr, Sir Bitch” Alexander Hamilton: Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr, bitch? Burr: That depends, who’s asking? Hamilton: Oh, well, sure, bitch. I’m Alexander Hamilton, I’m at your service, bitch. I have been… looking for you. Burr: I’m getting nervous. Hamilton: Bitch, I heard your name at Princeton. I was seeking an accelerated course of study when I got sort of out-of-sorts with a buddy of yours. I may have punched him. It’s a blur, bitch. He handles the financials? Burr: You punched the bursar? Hamilton: …Yes! :D --- Hercules Mulligan: Lock up your daughters and horses, of course it’s hard to have intercourse over four sets of corsets. Marquis de Lafayette: Wow! John Laurens: No more sex, pour me another brew, bitch! Let’s raise a couple more… Trio: TO THE REVOLUUUUTION!

“Right Hand Man” Burr: Your excellency, bitch! George Washington: Who are you? Burr: Aaron Burr, bitch? Permission to state my case? Washington: As you were. Burr: Bitch, I was a captain under General Montgomery until he caught a bullet in the neck in Quebec, and well, in summary, I think that I could be of some assistance. I admire how you keep firing on the British from a distance. Washington: Huh. Burr: I have some questions, a couple of suggestions on how to fight instead of fleeing west. Washington: Yes? Burr: Well- Hamilton: Your excellency, you wanted to see me? Washington: Hamilton, come in, have you met Burr? Hamilton: Yes, bitch. Hamilton and Burr: We keep meeting. Burr: As I was saying, bitch, I look forward to seeing your strategy play out. Washington: Burr? Burr: Bitch? Washington: Close the door on your way out. Hamilton: Have I done something wrong, bitch? Washington: On the contrary. I called you here because our odds are beyond scary. Your reputation precedes you, but I have to laugh. Hamilton: Bitch? Washington: Hamilton, how come no one can get you on their staff? Hamilton: Bitch! --- Washington: Bitch, we are outgunned, outmanned! Hamilton: You need all the help you can get. I have some friends. Laurens, Mulligan, Marquis de Lafayette, okay, what else? Washington: Outnumbered, outplanned! Hamilton: We’ll need some spies on the inside, some King’s men who might let some things slide. I’ll write to Congress and tell ‘em we need supplies, you rally the guys, master the element of surprise. I’ll rise above my station, organize your information ‘til we rise to the occasion of our new nation. Bitch!

“A Winter’s Ball” Burr: How does a bastard, orphan, bitch of a whore go on and on, grow into more of a phenomenon? Watch this obnoxious, arrogant, loudmouth bother be seated at the right hand of the father. Washington hires Hamilton right on sight, but Hamilton still wants to fight, not write. Now, Hamilton’s skill with a quill is undeniable, but what do we have in common? We’re reliable with the… LADIEEEEEEEEEEEES! Burr: There are so many to deflower! LADIEEEEEEEEEEEES! Burr: Looks! Proximity to power! LADIEEEEEEEEEEEES! Burr: They delighted and distracted him. Martha Washington named her feral tomcat after him! Hamilton: That’s true! Burr: 1780, a winter’s ball, and the Schuyler sisters are the envy of all. Yo, if you could marry a sister, you’re rich, bitch. Hamilton: Is it a question of if, Burr, or which one?

“Satisfied” Angelica Schuyler: I’m a girl in a world in which my only job is to marry rich. My father has no bitches, so I’m the one who has to social climb, for one.

“The Story of Tonight (Reprise)” Hamilton: Well, if it isn’t Aaron Burr! Burr: Bitch! --- Hamilton: It’s all right, Burr. I wish you’d bought this girl with you tonight, Burr. Burr: You’re very kind, but I’m afraid it’s unlawful, bitch. Hamilton: What do you mean? Burr: She’s married. Hamilton: I see. Burr: She’s married to a British officer. Hamilton: Oh, shit.

“Stay Alive” Washington: The cavalry's not coming. Hamilton: But, bitch! Washington: Alex, listen. There’s only one way for us to win this. Provoke outrage, outright. --- Hamilton: We cut supply lines, we steal contraband. We pick and choose our battles and places to take a stand. And ev’ry day, “Bitch, entrust me with a command.” And ev’ry day… Washington: No. Hamilton: He dismisses me out of hand. --- Washington: Ev’ryone attack! Charles Lee: Retreat! Washington: Attack! Lee: Retreat! Washington: What are you doing, Lee? Get back on your feet! Lee: But there’s so many of them! Washington: I’m sorry, is this not your speed?! Hamilton! Hamilton: Ready, bitch! Washington: Have Lafayette take the lead! Hamilton: Yes, bitch! --- Washington: Don’t do a thing. History will prove him wrong. Hamilton: But, bitch! Washington: We have a war to fight, let’s move along.

“The Ten Duel Commandments” Burr: Alexander. Hamilton: Aaron Burr, bitch. Burr: Can we agree that duels are dumb and immature? Hamilton: Sure, but your man has to answer for his words, Burr. Burr: With his life? We both know that’s absurd, bitch.

“Meet Me Inside” Washington: What is the meaning of this? Mr. Burr, get a medic for the General. Burr: Yes, bitch. --- Washington: Hamilton! Hamilton: Bitch! Washington: Meet me inside… Bitch. Hamilton: Don’t call me bitch. Washington: This war is hard enough without infighting- Hamilton: Lee called you out. We called his bluff. Washington: You solve nothing, you aggravate our allies to the south. Hamilton: You’re absolutely right. John should’ve shot him in the mouth, that would’ve shut him up. Washington: Bitch- Hamilton: I’m not your bitch. Washington: Watch your tone, I am not a maiden in need of defending, I am grown. Hamilton: Charles Lee, Thomas Conway, these men take your name and they rake it in the mud. Washington: My name’s been through a lot, I can take it. Hamilton: Well, I don’t have your name, I don’t have your titles, I don’t have your land. But, if you- Washington: No. Hamilton: If you gave me command of a battalion, a group of men to lead, I could fly above my station after the war. Washington: Or you could die, and we need you alive. Hamilton: I am more than willing to die- Washington: Your wife needs you alive, bitch, I need you alive- Hamilton: CALL ME BITCH ONE MORE TIME!!! Washington: Go home, Alexander. That’s an order from your commander. Hamilton: Bitch- Washington: Go home.

“That Would Be Enough” Eliza Schuyler-Hamilton: I knew you’d fight until the war was one, but you deserve a chance to meet your bitch. Look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now.

“Guns and Ships” Washington: Hamilton! Lafayette: Bitch, he knows what to do in a trench. Ingenuitive and fluent in French, I mean- Washington: Hamilton! Lafayette: Bitch, you’re gonna have to use him eventually. What’s he gonna do on the bench? I mean-

“Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down)” Hamilton: If this is the end of me, at least I have a friend with me, a weapon in my hand, a command, and my men with me. Then I remember my Eliza’s expecting me… Not only that, my Eliza’s expecting. We gotta go, gotta get the job done. Gotta start a new nation, gotta meet my bitch! --- Mulligan: A tailor spying on the British government! I take their measurements, information, and I smuggle it to my brother’s revolutionary covenant. I’m running with the Bitches of Liberty and I am loving it! See, that’s what happens when you're up against the ruffians, we’re in the shit now, somebody’s gotta shovel it! Hercules Mulligan, I need no introduction, when you knock me down, I get the fuck back up again! --- Hamilton: Gotta start a new nation, gotta meet my bitch.

“Dear Theodosia” Hamilton: Oh, Philip, when you smile, I am undone, my bitch. Look at my bitch! Pride is not the word I’m looking for. There is so much more inside me now. Oh, Philip, you outshine the morning sun. My bitch.

“Non-Stop” Burr: Alexander? Hamilton: Aaron Burr, bitch. Burr: It’s the middle of the night. Hamilton: Can we confer, bitch? --- Hamilton: Bitch, do you want me to run the Treasury or State department? Washington: …Treasury. Hamilton: Lesgo. :)

“What’d I Miss?” Mr. Jefferson, welcome home, bitch, you’ve been off in Paris for so long!

“Cabinet Battle #1” Washington: Secretary Jefferson, you have the floor, bitch. --- Hamilton: Madison, you’re mad as a hatter, bitch, take your medicine. Damn, you’re in worse shape than the national debt is in. Sitting there useless as two shits. Hey, turn around, bend over, I’ll show you where my shoe fits. --- Washington: Hamilton! Hamilton: Bitch! Washington: A word. --- Hamilton: Bitch- Washington: Figure it out, Alexander. That’s an order from your commander.

“Take a Break” Eliza: Alexander- Hamilton: Okay, okay. Eliza: Your bitch is nine years old today. He has something he’d like to say. He’s been practicing all day. Philip, take it away.

“Say No to This” Hamilton: So I offered her a loan, I offered to walk her home, she said: Maria Reynolds: You’re too kind, bitch. Hamilton: I gave her thirty bucks that I had socked away, she lived a block away, she said: Maria: This one’s mine, bitch. --- James Reynolds: Dear bitch, I hope this letter finds you in good health, and in a prosperous enough position to put wealth in the pockets of people like me: Down on their luck. You see, that was my wife who you decided to- Hamilton: Fuuuuuuuu- --- Hamilton: I hid the letter and I raced to her place, screamed “How could you?!” in her face, she said: Maria: No, bitch! Hamilton: Half dressed, apologetic. A mess, she looked pathetic, she cried: Maria: Please don’t go, bitch!

“The Room Where It Happens” Burr: Ahh, Mister Secretary. Hamilton: Mr. Burr, bitch.

“Cabinet Battle #2” Washington: Secretary Jefferson, you have the floor, bitch. --- Washington: Hamilton is right. Thomas Jefferson: Mr. President-! Washington: We’re too fragile to start another fight. Jefferson: But, bitch, do we not fight for freedom? Washington: Sure, when the French figure out who’s gonna lead ‘em. Jefferson: The people are leading-! Washington: The people are rioting. There’s a difference. Frankly, it’s a little disquieting that you would let your ideals blind you to reality. Hamilton. Hamilton: Bitch? Washington: Draft a statement of neutrality.

“One Last Time” Hamilton: What do you need, bitch? ...Bitch? Washington: I wanna give you a word of warning. Hamilton: Bitch, I don’t know what you heard, but whatever it is, Jefferson started it. Washington: Thomas Jefferson resigned this morning. Hamilton: You’re kidding. Washington: I need a favor. Hamilton: Whatever you say, bitch, Jefferson will pay for his behavior. --- Washington: He’s stepping down so he can run for president. Hamilton: Ha! Good luck defeating you, bitch. --- Washington: And then we’ll teach them how to say goodbye + (1x cus I'm a sloth), you and I. Hamilton: No, bitch, why? Washington: I want to talk about neutrality. Hamilton: Bitch, with Britain and France on the verge of war, is this the best time-

“We Know” Burr: “Dear bitch, I hope this letter finds you in good health, and in a prosperous enough position to put wealth in the pockets of people like me: Down on their luck. You see, that was my wife who you decided to-” Jefferson: Whaaaaaaat?

“Blow Us All Away” Hamilton: Come back home when you’re done. Take my guns, be smart, make me proud, bitch.

*I cannot with Philip's death, forgive me.*

“The Election of 1800” Hamilton: Well, if it isn’t Aaron Burr, bitch! Burr: Alexander! Hamilton: You’ve created quite a stir, bitch! Burr: I’m going door to door! Hamilton: You’re openly campaigning? Burr: Sure! Hamilton: That’s new. Burr: Honestly, it’s kind of draining. Hamilton: Burr- Burr: Bitch!

“Your Obedient Servant” Burr: How does Hamilton, an arrogant immigrant, orphan bastard, whore bitch somehow endorse Thomas Jefferson, his enemy, a man he’s despised since the beginning just to keep me from winning?

*Just the light-hearted and choleric ones, please. Plus one of my personal favorites:*

"The World Was Wide Enough" Hamilton: Eyes up. I catch a glimpse of the other side. Laurens leads a soldiers' chorus on the other side, my bitch is on the other side, he's with my mother on the other side, Washington is watching from the other side.

*I'm done. I apologize for this monster of a shitpost.*

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 1 month

Note

Hi RTA ..

Adding to my earlier ask about Meghan stealing clothes from a photoshoot.

Vanessa said that this was a recent photoshoot that meghan has done AFTER megxit. She did this is California, the photoshoot happened in santa Barbara and that it was for a news organization (as opposed to a magazine). It was NOT reitmanns. And that sources from from the organization and designer team have confirmed this to her sometime in the last month.

So, now we have 2 confirmed separate incidences, reitmanns and this recent one, where Meghan stole stuff. As in simply walked away with things that she wanted to keep after the photoshoot and never informed or asked.

Vanessa is legit. She has previously done a profile on Meghan for Tatler and The Cut. She also came on Andrew's podcast 2 years back and dropped some tea back then.

Interesting. Thanks for following up!

In that case, the options are Time Magazine (for the hairdresser photos), The Cut, and Variety. I’m leaning towards Variety because it’s the seminal Hollywood insider publication that someone like Meghan would obsess over. The Cut is too new media and doesn’t fit in with her 90s/00s dream of worldwide domination.

And note, this could explain why she hasn’t gotten any more photoshoots - everyone knows about her sticky fingers and no one wants to risk it. Fashion and media is a small world so those people are absolutely going to talk to each other about this. Even though it may take time, years even, for it to trickle out to the general public, people in the industry would learn about it pretty quickly.

It may also explain the difficulty she has in finding people to dress her for events and she has to resort to the off-the-rack bargain Hermes and Carolina Herrera. And if that’s what’s going on, it may explain her avoidance of the Hollywood awards season despite all the manifesting - the people she wants to wear won’t dress her.

And now I’m rethinking the new stylist. Did she hire Adele’s stylist because Meghan realized she burned fashion bridges and thinks having a stylist to hustle on her behalf will get her back in everyone’s good graces? Something to think and speculate about.

(This is probably a good time to say that I don’t listen to podcasts or watch YouTube so a lot of those links y’all send me are going to be posted without being listened/watched.)

#ask #brf #sussexes #theories #rumors

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gottagetback2u · 3 months

Text

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 JOBS THAT WOULD FIT STRAY KIDS MEMBERS

these are all specific stores!!! most of these are american stores (i think?) so sorry if they are unfamiliar!! i may or may not have worked at these places before…

BATH AND BODY WORKS

-LEE KNOW!

-chan

-felix

-changbin

what do u mean when u tell me lee know has never stepped foot inside a bath and body works before?? HE IS MADE FOR IT OMG. the apron tied around his waist, his pretty visuals literally drawing customers in. people would actually take the scent testers from him. imagine asking for recommendations and him leading u around the store, calling out scents by name and their “floral, dark, clean” notes. his favorite scent is definitely a spring scent like book loft or a classic like crisp morning air. ALSO imagine his shy, working voice when asking people for their rewards number and then going to the back, rolling his eyes and immediately complaining. made for the job. he’s perfect.

chan and felix are also great fits! they would definitely be a lil too knowledgeable (thanks to sisters and genuine interest). imagine asking for recommendations for scents and felix whips out gingham gorgeous (aka one of the strongest, clean scent with floral). my wonderful body care men :’]

let’s be honest. changbin in an apron. that’s it.

BARNES & NOBLE

-hyunjin

-seungmin

u mean to tell me these nerds wouldn’t apply for barnes & noble at least four times? (honestly, it seems like they’re always hiring then never hire lmao)

hyunjin definitely likes the “quiet” vibe of the workplace. it’s definitely not always quiet, but being surrounded by books and drawing when he has no customers at the help desk is nice. he likes roaming around and looking at new journals, stationary, popular authors, etc. he doesn’t always read, but if the book seems popular enough he will get it to try it out! also, hyunjin dressed as a nerd with his eyebrow piercing and dyed hair. sHEEESSHH that’s the death of me.

ur probably wondering why seungmin isn’t the first name. he is literally the member that ppl said his room was “boring” bc of all the books and that he probably studies for fun. BUT, i don’t think he would necessarily like it as a job? he likes to keep his interests and hobbies to himself, so constantly recommending books or seeing others buy an author he absolutely hated might not be his favorite. although, some days he walks in and is GRATEFUL that he chose this over any other mall job. some days it’s his escape. bookworm 4L.

TARGET

-han

-jeongin

-changbin

han as a target worker is literally canon at this point. lets be honest, he would be a perfect fit. he would wear the same red zip up jacket ever shift, no matter is he’s doing shipment orders or register. mans just wants to be comfy and make money. but in all seriousness!! he likes the people he works with and enjoys how organized everything is. less to get confused and overwhelmed by.

u could find jeongin either at target or ur local grocery store. he just fits the grocery store worker vibe so well. don’t know how to explain.

changbin in a target is something i never thought about but it would work so well? imagine him at the customer service desk asking for ur card information for a refund. like how does it seem so normal???

BEST BUY

-CHANGBIN!!

-felix

first person i thought of for best buy. changbin. he just seems like such a lil dork when thinking about it?? ur telling me he wouldn’t giggle and act flustered when u thought the iphone 15 and 15 max were the same thing? he would. u know he would.

felix just works and we all know it. his mom definitely made him apply bc of his love for PCs and he kinda just got the job. loves doing tech things!! (but hates how rude some of the customers are :[)

TILLY’S

-chan

-jeongin

-han

for those who don’t know, tilly’s is kinda like an alternative skater/surfer clothing store! like beach clothes for skaters… if that makes sense…

from past experience of working here, chan just fits the manager role so well. diligent when working and so nice?? customers never feel overlooked when talking to him, all workers respect and like him, and he does amazing at his job! another thing that fits him so well is how tired he is :(( tillys puts their managers to workkk i am telling u.

jeongin would feel a lil outcasted when working here, cuz he never expected to work at a mall store??, but he likes it pretty much. he likes being on fitting room duty the most bc he could be on his phone most of the time. but he would DREAD if he was called to be on register bc he always forgets to take the security tags off.

han would fit right in. a lil… too good. he’s there for that employee discount and the limited nike clothes that get put out. would always want to be on register so time goes by faster. once again, he’s there for that check.

#sapphire’s log~#🎧#stray kids #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hwang hyunjin #lee felix #kim seungmin #han jisung #yang jeongin #stray kids scenarios #skz headcanons #skz #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #kpop

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thewitchandtheassassin · 11 months

Text

Choices, Choices (Maria Hill x Reader)

Summary: Part 2 of Kiss or Kill

Words: 923

Warnings: Language, violence?

Taglist: @natasharomanoffswife17 @red1culous @aaron-despair @username23345 @xjiasx @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova @summergeezburr @marvels-writings @imnotasuperhero @miscmarvelwritings @captain-josslett @onlyafewfindtheway @hayleyokami @b-5by5 @lostandsearching @evilcr0ne @everything201197

-X-

Maria’s grasp on the grip of her sidearm was firm, knuckles nearly white with tension as she crept through the uncomfortably silent HYDRA base. They’d received intel that it was teeming with scientists and soldiers alike in another pathetic attempt to recreate the beauty of the Super Soldier serum but she hadn’t seen another soul since infiltrating the base.

At this rate, she was beginning to wonder how accurate their information truly was.

Nearing what was supposedly central command, she inhaled deeply. She’d been off for weeks, ever since you’d pinned her to that damned wall and kissed her like lives depended on it. And maybe they had. If she’d been caught by some of those monsters roaming about, she would’ve been killed on the spot – or worse.

But now she couldn’t get it out of her fucking head.

She’d hoped this would redeem her dry spell but it seemed she would be leaving here empty-handed as well. As she stepped to the door keeping her from command, she paused as a cheerful whistle met her ears. It sounded oddly familiar and her heart dropped into the pit of her belly.

There’s no way.

Shoving it open with reckless abandon, Maria was baffled and furious simultaneously at the sight of your grinning countenance. A slew of motionless bodies were littering the floor, most of their chests still visibly rising despite the vague appearance of lifelessness. You were leaning against the edge of a desk, ankles crossed as you languished against it nonchalantly.

“Why, hello, agent,” you purred, gleefully clicking your tongue. “I wondered how long it’d take you to get here. I was starting to worry you’d dismissed my helpful tipoff.”

“I- you-” Maria sputtered, brows furrowing with frustration. “That’s not possible. Agent Romanoff…”

“Followed a clue I left for her. And then subsequently found all the others I just so happen to leave out in plain view for any halfway intelligent agent to put together. Really, your people should never assume it’s that easy to uncover things. I understand most of HYDRA is run by morons but there were far too many coincidences involved here,” you replied patronizingly, smirking at the fuming brunette. “Aw, there’s no need for such dramatics, you sweet little mouse. You simply stumbled into this cat’s trap thanks to a deadly widow. You are the Jerry to my Tom, if you will.”

Shoving away from the desk, your expression grew somber as you stood before Maria.

“I asked you here for a reason,” you admitted, all the teasing gone from your words. “Your appearance at the party has painted quite a target on your back. The heads of a few ugly organizations have put a price on your head and if you continue chasing down this path, they will call for the hit.”

“I can handle myself,” she contended, her glare faltering under the concern shining brightly back at her. “SHIELD –”

“Cannot protect you,” you muttered solemnly. “Your life is contracted. They will hire only the best and they will buy or murder the people closest to you. You may not fear them now but you should.”

Hesitating, Maria studied the tightness of your features, the tension of your form as your eyes darted about attentively. “(Y/N)...”

“I am a pawn in many games,” you shrugged, unbothered by the notion of being caught in the webs of horrible men and women alike. “Until I am no longer of use, they will keep me on the board at the cost of any lives they deem inconsequential. Nothing about my life is as black and white as your organization believes it is. Their house of cards must fall, but I will be the one pulling it. So stay out of my way.”

“I can’t let you keep hurting people,” Maria argued weakly. “People will die.”

Cupping her cheeks firmly, your look was fierce and blatantly terrified as you stared at the stunned woman helplessly. “You will die, Maria! And I won’t fucking let that happen. Please, stay away from this.”

You let one hand fall to her waist as you dragged her close, mouth harsh and unforgiving against hers though she returned the embrace with similar fire as her shock dissipated into something deeper. Something she couldn’t deny.

If you were anything in this world and in this lifetime, you were selfish. You always had been. You would sacrifice the things that didn’t matter to you to keep those you did care about safe without hesitation or thought. The world itself could burn as long as your world remained.

And you would not let her gamble her life for others. Not when she meant so much to you.

Tugging a syringe from your pocket, your eyes fell open as you pulled back, forehead resting against hers. Panted breaths passed between you, Maria’s eyes soft and trusting.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, wetness pooling in your waterline as you jabbed the needle into the side of her neck and pressing the plunger, wincing at her gasp of betrayal and pain, watching the light of consciousness fade from her crystal eyes. “I know you won’t let this go. But you have to.”

Catching her sagging body, tears dripped down your cheeks as she went limp in your arms. You held her tight, lifting her with ease and hurrying from the command center.

“When it’s all over, I’ll make this right. I promise,” you pledged, kissing the crown of her head. “You may hate me, but you’ll be safe. That’s all that matters.”

#maria hill imagine #maria hill x reader #maria hill #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #MCU fic #reader insert #avengers imagine #the avengers imagine #marvel cinematic universe

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sanjoongie · 11 months

Text

Library of Illusion~ Sci Fi Section

Chrome Upgrade

📚Part Three for the Library Of Illusions Event

📚Pairing: Fixer! Yunho x Merc! Reader (f)

📚Genre: Fantasy au, Sci-fi au, Cyberpunk 2077 inspired, sleeping with the boss trope

📚Warnings: fighting, cybernetic enhancements, slapping, nipple play, yunho is horny over some knife play, mommy(reader)/little one(yunho) dynamics, penetrative sex with no barrier, creampie(s), oral (f receiving), cum eating, dacryphilia

📚Word Count: 3,809

📚Rating: 18+ MDNI, smut

📚Summary: the scifi section transports you to a cyberpunk world in which you are merc for hire with many upgrades and your boss, or fixer, pays you with chrome instead of eddie’s (eurodollar)

📚Dedication: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland the best beta readers a writer could bribe have

↫The Fantasy Section ↭ MasterList ↭The Historical Fiction Section↬

You moved back and forth in front of a particular bookshelf but you had this feeling like you were missing it. You tipped your head back and you felt a zap of electricity when your eyes locked onto a bright yellow book with the title "Cyberpunk 2077" in sharp black lettering. You lifted onto your tippy toes, fingertips tingling as you managed to hook the book and bring it down into your waiting hands.

You opened it, and watched expectantly as the book flew out of your hands, landing upright with its pages flipping open, until it halted and grew to the size of a door. The center for the book was transparent, and within you could see a dark alleyway, filled with trash and lit up by bright lights.

The hair on the back of your neck raised and you felt yourself getting real damn annoyed at this entity that was watching you. "You know, you could just reveal yourself before I meet you in this damn book!" You couldn't help but shout in frustration.

It had to be the guardian of this section, right? Clearly they were both present in the books and in the library. "Or are you worried that I might reject you before you can weave a story to suck me into?"

You might as well be shouting into the void. Or so you thought. The shelves began to shiver and shake and a rush of wind rushed past you, blowing your hair behind you like you were in a wind tunnel. The fuck was that? Alright, maybe you shouldn't be provoking demons.

You decided now was a good time to walk through the portal.

You stood in the middle of an alleyway, neon lights blinking obnoxiously above you. In your hand was a chip and everything in your mind was telling you to put it inside of you. You felt behind your ear and gasped when your finger found a rectangle hole there. The chip slipped in easily and your eyes lit up as you processed the information on the chip.

You were a mercenary for hire. Your fixer, or guy that hooked you up with jobs, was Yunho. You two had worked together pretty steadily but only after you had begged him to give you jobs. You had a gun and an itch to scratch back then. You had worked with a few crews here and there, maybe a partner, but ultimately no one could keep up with your thirst to prove yourself, to really make your name a legend.

Now you had so many cybernetic enhancements you lost count. Circulatory system upgrades for your hacking. You had traded out your eyes a long time ago for easier targeting and to make them a pretty purple jeweled color. But your crown jewel were the blades that were implanted and replaced your arms. The blades stayed hidden and folded and you had full use of your 'hands', but the Mantis blades had been the best improvement you had invested in, surely.

A screen popped up in your peripherals and a faint ringing could be heard in your ear. The square said Your Fixer Yuyu was calling you. "I got the deets, Yunho, what's up?" You answered.

"Another gonk got themselves snatched for cybernetics and organs," Yunho replied.

"Yeah, I got that already, what do you want?" You snapped.

You admired your clothes in this world: you were wearing skin tight pleather pants with cutouts at the hips, a bikini top and a large baggy jacket. You had an undercut on the side where you had slipped in your chip, but your hair fell in waves on your right side. Definitely the cyberpunk look.

"That same gonk left their bike outside the place where they had been sent to rescue the last guy," Yunho informed you. You winced. Oops. "Don't worry, choom, I got you. I called your bike away to park a few blocks. Just thought I'd let you know when you run out of there."

"Thanks."

"Orchid?" You fucking loved your merc name. The first upgrade you got as a merc were Mantis blades but insisted on a soft pink color. So they named you after a pretty Orchid Mantis. You were kinda proud of that, actually.

"Yeah?" You answered.

"Come see me after this job, 'kay? I've got something to run past you."

"Got it, Yunho."

You ended the comms and cracked your neck. Time to cut up some idiot bodysnatchers.

You snuck into the building where your target was located. She was in an ice bath to keep her body chill. You checked for vital signs and luckily the damn gonk wasn't dead. Yet. That's when you allowed yourself to kill every damn bodysnatcher in the place, with no mercy. Who thought it was a good life choice to kidnap innocent people and steal their cybernetics off their corpses? You were a bit blood splattered afterwards but the trauma team came for your target once you booted up their biomon and you were already gone by then.

You jogged for a block, shrugging on your jacket and then you called in your bike. You didn't bother to check in with Yunho, you simply set his headquarters location to your GPS and headed there full throttle. You weren't sure what you prefered more: slashing people up with your Mantis blades or riding the road with your bike. Either one provided amazing adrenaline.

You pulled up to the noodle shop and parked your bike in the front. The staff didn't even blink as you walked through the front and into the kitchen of the shop. You stopped in front of the deep freeze and the square of tiles before it blinked before popping open. You slid down the ladder and a cold nuzzle of a gun was pressed against the nape of your neck.

"Jesus, do you have to do that every damn time? It's Orchid, for christ sake. Let her in." Yunho yelled at his guard.

You stuck your tongue out at the guard and he pulled his gun to holster it. You walked towards the glass box that was Yunho's office. The door snapped behind you with a whoosh. The glass tinted so that no one could see inside. Interesting.

"What's up, choom?" You said, not showing a hint of your worries. You planted your ass on the crescent shaped couch and crossed your hands behind your back.

Yunho approached the low coffee table in front of you. His broad shoulders filled out his orange and black leather jacket well. “When did you get the new ink?” Yunho motioned with his chin.

You looked down and saw a dragon on your hip. Odd. When did that get there? It didn’t fit the genre at all, it was a dragon from an old fairy tale novel illustration. Did you have another tattoo? Upon further inspection, you also had a switchblade on your shoulder. Both were clearly souvenirs from Yeosang and Wooyoung but… why? It couldn't be that they simply wanted you to remember them by tattoos you had not agreed upon. You figured you’d ask Seonghwa when you got back.

To answer Yunho though, you shrugged. “I gotta pass it by Daddy first?”

Yunho’s eyes darkened and narrowed them at you. “Are you giving me lip, little girl?”

You scoffed at the term. “A little girl that could slice you in half maybe.”

Yunho strode around the table, brought back his hand and slapped you, one of his rings scratching your chin as it hit. “Bitch? Are you saying you could take me on?”

"Yunho, Yunho, Yunho," You shook your head. "There's a reason you keep calling me to do all your dirty work. Because I get shit done."

"I give you the dirty work jobs because you're trash," Yunho corrected you.

You smiled and it was dangerous. "Careful. Those are fighting words."

"Not fighting words if they're true."

Your Sandevistan, the operating system that allowed you to move faster than the human eye could observe, kicked in and within milliseconds, you were on top of Yunho on the floor, your Mantis Blade at Yunho's neck. "I may be trash but I could still kill you, Yuyu," You crooned perilously.

Yunho swallowed but even that motion put his adam's apple in danger, flirting with your blade. "You didn't tell me you got a Sandevistan."

"I don't tell my fixer everything in case he wants to take advantage of me." Your free hand started to absentmindedly play with the chains around his neck. "Now, how are you going to repay me for this?"

"This?" Yunho squeaked.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. "I charge for my services; had to use my Sandevistan to show you who's really boss, didn't I? How much to let you go free too?"

Yunho scowled. "I don't--"

You ran the tip of your blade along Yunho’s face, the threat there. Yunho whimpered and you cackled. "Big talk for a big man-" You moved your body back and your lower half encountered something long blocking your way.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. "Yunho--"

"Don't," he said in a clipped tone. "Just pretend you didn't--"

You grinned evilly. "Your price just went up."

"Orchid, listen." Yunho was starting to sweat. "We have a decent work relationship. I'd like to keep it that way. Can't we just forgive the insults?"

"Or…" You slowly reclined your Mantis Blade built into your arm, folding it back in place. "...you could repay me in a different way. Do you have a Mr. Studd upgrade?"

Yunho's ears began to get red. "...yes."

"Give me an hour of your time, I think that would make us even."

Yunho looked so confused it was borderline adorable. “You… you sure?”

“Whatever you would have paid me as compensation would have gone towards some time at a dollhouse anyways, so why not, Yuyu?” You chirped.

Yunho nodded curtly. “Done.”

The Mr. Studd upgrade you were talking about was essentially an upgrade/sexual organ replacement. It ensured that the one using the upgrade lasted for hours, which is why it was standardly an upgrade a Doll, or whore, had. Why Yunho had it, you didn’t know, but you didn’t care at this point. It also meant that his dick was chrome colored, which was a bonus.

You remained straddling Yunho on the floor but Yunho sat up, his upper body now vertical, holding himself up by his arms, palms flat on the concrete floor. You were cradling his head to your chest as he sucked on your tits. His eyes had widened upon seeing your nipples had been replaced with a cosmetic upgrade, making them a sea-foam green color. You continued to dominate your boss, having discovered that he also had a Mommy kink.

You couldn't help but coo at Yunho some more, his eyes were big as his lips were wrapped around your nipple. “That’s a good baby, sucking Mommy’s tits just the way she likes it.” Yunho whined against your breast. “Does my little one have something to say?”

Yunho popped off your nipple, leaving a string of saliva connecting from his tongue to your nipple. “Orch--Mommy.” You waited patiently for Yunho to say what he wanted to say. “Can I have your cunt now?”

If Yunho absolutely drooling over your tits wasn’t enough to make you sopping wet, that sentence certainly did the trick. “Do you think you earned it, little one?”

Yunho nodded quickly. “Please, can I have Mommy’s pretty pink cunt now?”

You sighed dramatically. “I guess you deserve it for sucking on Mommy’s titties so well.”

Yunho let out a comfortable sigh once you sunk down on his chrome dick. “Mommy feels so good around me.”

“Yeah, does Mommy squeeze you just right, Baby?” You started to move up and down his cock, making sure to clench when you had just the head of his dick inside of you and then pushed him back inside again.

Yunho moaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You had no idea the straight faced, extremely tall fixer was such a sucker to be a sub for someone. You might have offered it earlier had you known. “More, please, Mommy, more!”

It’s not long before you have Yunho creaming between your thighs. He comes with a gruff cry but you hadn't found your high yet. But thanks to his Mr. Studd upgrade, that wasn’t a problem. You continued to fuck yourself on Yunho’s chrome dick, even after Yunho’s long drawn out moan faded from his lips.

“Be a good baby and play with Mommy’s clit, hmm?” You encouraged him. You leaned back, hands on Yunho’s thighs to brace yourself, and started to fuck him that way.

Yunho’s lips puckered like he wanted your tits back in his mouth but his eyes were on your clit. “Wanna suck on Mommy’s pretty clit, please,” He whined.

“Here, Baby.” You grabbed one of Yunho’s hands, which were large for a fixer’s, and sucked on his thumb, gathering your saliva along the digit before guiding Yunho to rub his thumb mercilessly along your swollen clit. “Right there, just like that,” You hissed, “You can suck Mommy’s clit another time, maybe when you’ve been a bad little one.”

“You’d sit on my face? Please?” Yunho looked eager and cute all over again.

You cupped Yunho’s face so that his cheeks were pushed together. “Stop being so cute and focus on the here and now, Yuyu.”

Yunho frowned, fucking up into your pussy with his chrome dick and flicked your clit until you came with a loud shout, thighs shuddering as your orgasm ripped through you. You panted and waited for your cunt to stop fluttering around Yunho and then asked him how long before he could go for his second round.

The second round included you degrading Yunho, as per his request. The harsher you were, the more he throbbed inside of you. He cried fat tears for you when he came the second time, proving to his Mommy that his dick was good enough and big enough to come inside a second time. You licked away his tears, having come only moments before him.

The third round you found that Yunho liked his nipples played with, to the point of overstimulation, to which he buried himself deep inside of you to come, nudging your uterus and making you come just as hard. By then, the two of you were clinging to each other, sweaty and exhausted but plenty satisfied. The only problem now was…

“What are we going to do with all this sticky cum, little one?” You mused, looking down at your pussy, which had his cum literally dripping out of you.

“Le-leave it there?” Yunho stuttered, his ears heating up again.

You cocked your head curiously at Yunho. “But Mommy wants to clean up, baby.”

“I…” Yunho opened his mouth and then closed it.

“Yuyu, after what we just did, there isn’t much to be embarrassed about,” You brought up.

Yuyu nodded his head but couldn't meet your eyes. “It’s dirty though.”

That made your proverbial ears perk up. “What’s dirty?”

“I want to eat my cum from your pussy, Mommy.”

"You're awfully greedy for my cunt, Yuyu," You couldn't help but tease him.

Yunho pouted. "Please. Mommy."

"I think you're past your hour," You mentioned.

Yunho clung to you harder. "I…I need this. Please."

Whatever constant state of control fixer Yunho was in, this seemed to be his safe place to let loose. You yourself had felt the tension leave his body, as he came and came and came inside of you. Perhaps you could come to some type of arrangement after the jobs he set you up on…

"Okay, baby, you can clean up my cunt with your tongue," You agreed, "But it's going to cost you."

Yunho was nodding, lifting you off his cock already, fully capable of setting you down on the ground and wrapping his arms around your thighs. "Thank you, Mommy," he said, almost like thanking you for his meal.

When Yunho's guard walked in to say that he had a visitor, Yunho was so pussy drunk that he never even responded. You looked at the guard, upside down with your head cast back because Yunho was working your cunt with his tongue quite well and said, "He's busy."

You couldn't believe when Yunho coaxed your fourth orgasm from your body but when your body stopped shuddering and you looked at your fixer between your legs, it was clear that this was exactly what Yunho should be doing for you.

Wait--

Shouldn't Yunho be giving you… something else?

Yunho smiled at you, his chin and cheeks covered in a mixture of his saliva, his cum and yours and you felt your brain stutter. "I did good, Mommy?"

"Course, Baby, you did brilliantly." You ruffled Yunho's hair.

"Maybe…maybe you could stay the night? I don't have anymore jobs for you and I--"

Whatever else Yunho was saying faded out as your brain once again attempted to tell you that you couldn't stay the night. You had somewhere to go. Did you, though? Couldn't you just stay here with Yunho?

"Orchid? Are you okay? Do you need a stim? I've got a few around here."

You watched as Yunho looked around his room, his leather jacket hanging off one arm absentmindedly. He really did look like a lost boy.

Wasn't he just like the others? The others?

You shook your head and rubbed your eyes. What the fuck was going on?

"Yun…I think someone is hacking me. I feel--weird."

Yunho stopped looking for the stims and sighed. "I almost thought I had you there."

The air tensed, warping and stretching and suddenly it snapped and you were back in the Science Fiction Section. Yunho had an arm already stretched out to pull his book out. Inside was a chip, the same that you had put into your slot in the book to absorb the information of the cyberpunk world and your job.

Gone were Yunho's mixture of neon and baggy cyberpunk clothes. Instead, he was in a black button down, tight black pants, with a shoulder rig and a thigh harness. "Would it have been so bad to stay with me?"

You pursed your lips. "Yes, actually. I have someone else waiting for me."

Yunho, baby boy Yunho, was peeking out. "What's he going to say when he finds out you've fucked all us demons to get to him?"

Your dead lover's curling grin flashed through your mind and you felt your heart contract in pain. "He'd probably say he missed out on all the fun."

"I'll only give this to you if you give me a goodbye kiss, Mommy," Yunho said with a sneaky grin.

You rolled your eyes. "A bit demanding for a baby boy, aren't you?" You couldn't help but slip back into that role for a second.

"What's one more kiss?" Yunho still challenged you.

You sighed and got up from the floor. You stretched up on your tippy toes and place a kiss on Yunho's lips. He sighed happily against your lips and slipped the chip key into your hands. "Miss me a little, okay, Mommy?"

Your head felt fuzzy from the mindfuck you were currently going through. Surely living so many lives so quickly wasn't healthy for you. Were you even going to make it through this? No, you couldn't think that way. You had only one purpose in your life now, and that was to bring your dead lover back with the use of the artifact. If you didn't have that, you had nothing.

Seonghwa was humming under his breath and swaying in his chair when you approached the desk this time. He brightened slightly upon seeing you walk up to his desk. "Have something for me?"

You frowned at him. "Excuse me? Who are you and what have you done with the Keeper of the Keys?"

Seonghwa's smile widened. Did he… did he like when you talked down to him? "I talked with Yeosang. Seems like you've been treating us quite well, actually."

"Actually?" You raised an eyebrow at him.

Seonghwa's face turned stormy. "Not all travelers do their best to play the game. Most demand we simply give the keys to them. Hence my--" Seonghwa cleared his throat, "--my bad attitude towards your kind. We are simply demons doing our job, after all."

"Well, you've got me there, I guess. You guys are just cogs in the machine too, huh?"

Seonghwa looked at you eagerly. "Where did you go this time? What do you have for me?"

It was still a little weird that Seonghwa was now eager to see you but you handed him the chip key nonetheless. "Yunho."

Seonghwa's eyes began to have a shaky quality to them, almost like he was nervous. "Did you, uh, have any trouble with Yunho?" He scurried behind his desk and added your third key to your collection in the display case.

"Actually!" You inspected your body and not only found the dragon and switchblade tattoo but a new one was on your body now, after Yunho. You could feel the raised edges on your neck, near your chin. "Do I have something here?"

Seonghwa titled his head to look at where you pointed. "Is that a motorbike?"

"Interesting…" You began to nibble on your thumbnail. You only knew about getting the keys from the guardians, what was this tattoo thing about? "Do you know anything about these tattoos?"

Seonghwa rubbed the back of his neck. "You didn't come in with those?"

Was Yunho hinting towards something earlier? Did the demons not know anything beyond their jobs? What truly was this place?

You were halfway through your haul of keys. You only had three more to go but that didn't make you feel any more confident. You thought perhaps as you progressed, you would have a better understanding of this whole ordeal but as it turned out, you were getting more questions than answers.

"Don't miss me while I'm gone, Seonghwa," You joked, "Maybe have some cookies when I come back. Chocolate chip is fine."

You left Seonghwa whining about getting his hands on freshly baked cookies and perused the sections that were left. A lilting song played by an instrument long forgotten poured from the section you had stopped at and your shoe sunk through a pile of sand. The sign above your head was made of stone and runes crossed over it. You blinked and the hieroglyphics quickly translated to the History Section. You had several times in history you loved but nothing came close to your obsession with Egypt. Maybe you'd be in luck and forge your own fate this time.

Tag list: @yoonguurt @hijirikaww @flowerboykun @starillusion13 @flurrys-creativity @kitten4sannie @a-soft-hornytiny

Library staff: @kwanisms @smallfrye @anyamaris @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21

↫The Fantasy Section ↭ MasterList ↭ The History Section↬

#cultofdionysusnet #library of illusion event #kvanity #pirateeznet #kwritersworldnet #ateez smut #jeong yunho smut #atz smut #yunho smut #yunho x readerr #topaz's work #ღatz

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memphisnovels · 6 months

Text

Evermore

Chapter 18. Reflecting light

Previous chapter

Masterlist

Thank you so much for reading <3

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: canon-typical violence, injuries, Pietro and Nadia being Pietro and Nadia, protective Nadia, protective Pietro

“No, I didn’t.” His words were an exhale, the smile never faltering.

I breathed a laugh. “I have to keep things interesting.”

“You’ve never struggled to interest me.” His lips were back on mine within seconds before I even had time to process his words. Pietro tugged me closer to him by the hips, my hand slipping into his thick silver hair. My skin tingled as his chest pressed to mine, I needed to breathe yet the thought of pulling away was entirely unreasonable to me then. The buzzing of my phone in my pocket had him pulling back, a small smirk on his face. “Are you going to get that?” I rolled my eyes yanking the device out to see a text from Nat.

‘If the two of you are done eating each other’s faces the director of MI6 is here.’

I sighed exasperatedly. “Bureaucracy calls.”

Pietro’s smirk only grew. I turned to walk toward the conference room with the man hot on my heels. His choice to remain a few paces behind me rather than beside me had me narrowing my eyes. “Sorry, the view was just too good to pass up.” I followed his eyeline before stopping abruptly in my tracks when I realized what he was staring at.

“You are pushing it, Maximoff.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Oh, I think you like it when I push you.”

“You have the rest of your life to be an annoying prick, why not take today off?”

“Well, you could always punish me by kissing me some more, I think that might help.”

I turned sharply, entering the conference room to see Steve and Nat seated at the table across from the director of MI6. The graying man stood, turning to face Pietro and me.

“Agent Pimenova, good to see you again.” He held his hand out to Pietro. “I’m Director Abbott, you must be Pietro Maximoff. MI6 thanks you both for your assistance in the arrest of miss Janssen. There is just the matter of the leaked information, we are currently performing a formal investigation into this.”

“Are you?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. I’d worked with MI6 before, I’ve never liked them, I only ever agreed because of Anna. One thing I can say for certain about them is that they always have an agenda, one they’re not often forthcoming about. “Of course, is there an implication there?”

Cap spoke up then. “Not at all, it’s just that given that Tara Janssen accused MI6 of leaking the information the matter is complicated.”

“Well since a criminal said it, I suppose we just take her word?” Abbott retorted.

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “You plan to conduct an internal investigation into your organization when no one knows who exactly the mole is?”

“This is standard procedure. MI6 is highly confidential about our intel, bringing outside entities in is risky enough in the field, we don’t intend to contract outside the organization for such delicate matters.”

“Oh yes, because all delicate matters have been handled so well by MI6 up until now?”

“I don’t appreciate your attitude, Agent Pimenova, and we are not entirely convinced that it is one of our agents who is at fault.”

A humorless laugh fell from my lips before I could stop it. “So, who do you think is at fault?” Natasha questioned, giving me a look that urged me not to bite back.

“Well, it’s not a black and white matter, however, we intend to investigate all individuals who took part in this operation.” He glanced at Pietro briefly as he spoke.

“Are you joking?”

His gaze was firm as he turned it on me once more. “Does this really surprise you? Mr. Maximoff is a new hire who was intensely involved from the beginning, he had access to all intel and knew the ins and outs of the operation. Not only this, correct me if I’m wrong, but it was not so long ago that he and his sister were antagonists to the Avengers.”

I felt that familiar white hot rage simmering through my veins and I clenched my hands into fists at my sides to anchor myself attempting to subdue the anger. “Pietro is an Avenger and he had nothing to do with this so you can cross him off of your suspect list. Someone on your team nearly got us killed, if I were you, I’d spend less time throwing around bullshit accusations and more investigating the people you work with. It’s not exactly auspicious for an intelligence agency to have a link so weak its handing your confidential intel to criminal organizations on a silver platter.” My tone was glacial at best, Abbott opened his mouth to continue. “I can’t imagine what else you have to say on the matter, Director.”

Cap put his hands up. “Alright, I don’t think there’s anything further, Director Abbott.” The man glanced at Steve with a pleased expression that promptly dissipated after the former spoke again. “Obviously we would require the investigation to be a combined effort between our resources and the MI6 institution to ensure an unbiased approach. Agent Maria Hill has said she’d be more than happy to assist in the matter.”

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at the short man who was barely managing to contain his glower. “Very well then, we will be in touch in the coming weeks.”

Steve turned to me before he left the room. “I’m glad you’re okay, kid but you have got to stop almost dying.”

I smiled sheepishly, saluting him as he exited the conference room, flanked by Natasha who offered me a knowing look with a devious smirk attached. I glanced back at Pietro who leaned against the round table, a boyish smile painted across his expression. “What now?” I spoke, feigning annoyance, his smile only grew.

“I like it when you defend me.”

The tension between us was palpable, the air in the room thick with it. I narrowed my eyes at Pietro. “I wasn’t really defending you; I just like pissing Abbott off.”

“Whatever you say, Prinţesă.” His sweet smile had evolved into that smirk I knew all too well.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “It’s funny, I seem to remember telling you not to call me that.” A smile tugged at my lips, but I fought hard to keep it down.

“Hm, I don’t remember that. Perhaps, it was back when you were pretending not to like it.”

I turned from him, walking toward the door before glancing back at him over my shoulder, a taunting lilt in my tone. “Who says I was pretending?” I didn’t manage to make it out the door before Pietro grabbed my wrist and spun me back to face him.

“You have a lying problem.” He murmured; voice deeper than it was a moment ago. Before I could respond his lips were on mine. This kiss was different to the others, passionate in the same way but more fervent, hungrier. My back hit the now closed door firmly, arms winding around Pietro’s neck to bring him closer. The discomfort of being touched was the furthest thing from my mind as he kissed me. There was no room for thoughts that didn’t revolve around the way his lips felt. A warm feeling pooled low in my stomach, it was sweet like honey and caused a flush to travel up my neck, coating my ears pink and making my flesh burn. I tugged Pietro’s hair with one hand, the other gripping his shoulder and pulling him closer. His hands travelled from my cheeks, down my arms, landing on my hips and pushing me further against the door. One of his hands drifted to my thigh, tugging it to sit around his hip; a niggling anxious feeling wormed its way through me at the contact, my heart beginning to beat faster. I gripped his shoulder tighter, not realizing the way my body had tensed until Pietro pulled away to look at me. “Nadia?” I shook my head, taking a deep breath and attempting to move past the discomfort when Pietro’s hand slipped higher on my hip, his thumb putting pressure unwittingly on the recently sutured flesh. I gasped in pain and Pietro’s touch was gone in an instant, he pulled away as if he’d been burned. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think…”

“It’s okay.” I reassured breathily, swallowing the pain, my hand going to cover the now throbbing stab wound. His face paled, eyes falling to my hip. I followed his line of sight, a small crimson patch beginning to soak into my shirt. “Let’s just go to the medical wing and patch it up, it’ll be fine.” He didn’t speak a word to me as we walked, remaining a few paces away from me the entire time. I slipped onto the examination table and began lifting my shirt over my head, wincing slightly at the pain in my abdomen as I lifted my arms, in a millisecond Pietro was before me, helping me to pull the fabric from my body, careful not to touch me. I was left in just my bra before him, the stitches were fine, just irritated. I cleaned them quickly before grabbing the bandage and roll of gauze and beginning to cover them. “See, all better.” There was silence in the room, but I could feel Pietro’s eyes burning into me prompting me to glance up. He was gazing at my abdomen, at the bruises that were still prominent, the wound I’d just covered and the two scars that lived on opposite sides of the flesh. He took a step toward me then. “It’s okay, Pietro.”

“No, it’s not, I made you bleed, Nadia.”

“Well, you’re not exactly the first person.” I teased. His face remained sullen, no hint of amusement. “Okay enough with the face, it was an accident, you can put the hair shirt away.”

He shook his head, jaw clenching. “It’s not just that, you were uncomfortable when I was touching you, I went too far.”

“You didn’t go too far… I- it was just fast, I can’t go that fast, not with that stuff.” I was murmuring by the end of my sentence. He just kept staring at the bruised flesh. “I’m really okay, the bruises don’t hurt that much anymore, and Tara has terrible aim so she didn’t get anything important.”

He remained silent for a long while. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t even really know what was going through his mind, but then he opened his mouth, and his words weren’t at all what I’d been expecting. “That is from Ultron.” He pointed at one of the two scars before his finger moved to the other. “What is that one from?” I looked down at the marred flesh, closing my eyes for a moment. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I let out a heavy exhale, looking back up at him. “It was a long time ago.”

Whether it was February or sometime in June I was no longer sure.

The air was glacial around me, and I was sure I was dying.

There was blood pooling in the fabric of my suit, sweat plastering hair to my forehead even with the harsh winter air that bit at me. Annika was beside me; she was holding my hand as the snow at my side turned red.

“Отдыхай сейчас, сестра.”

Rest now, sister.

Saint Petersburg, 4 hours earlier

I gripped the sides of the porcelain sink, watching the water run down the drain. There was gold trim on everything in this fucking hotel and I felt like I was losing my mind. Exhaustion had made a home in the cave of my bones; my body had come to feel like a prison. There was a thin papery feeling that clung to me, seeping into my skin, disembowelling me to make room for the full breadth of it. Nausea washed over me, and a blink had me seeing nothing but red. I’d barely slept, the strange visions were becoming more consistent and Dreykov had been pushing all of us extra hard lately. I supposed it was the result of Natasha and Oksana’s dissemination from the Red Room.

“Sweet Anya, is everything alright in there?” Ambassador Schulz called from the other side of the door. I splashed some water on my face, looking up at myself in the mirror.

“Of course, I’ll be right out, любимый.” (Darling)

I adjusted the short black wig on my head, tousling the fringe before smoothing my hands over the top of my strapless dress. When I opened the door, the Ambassador was stood at the bar cart, pouring two glasses of whiskey from an expensive looking decanter. He crossed the room and handed one of the crystal glasses to me. He was a balding middle-aged man who was almost foot shorted than me when I wore heels. He reeked of pungent cologne and cigars, and I hated him. The ambassador was a disgusting man who’d spent most of the evening attempting to slip his hand beneath the slit of my dress. I clinked my glass with his before letting the amber liquid him my upper lip but never pass it.

“You know, Anya, I’ve been to a lot of countries, but Russian women have always remained my favorite . Although, you may be the most gorgeous of them all.”

I smiled at him, placing the whiskey on the accent table behind me and popping my legs one by one to slip my heels off. “You flatter me.” His hand grazed over my collarbone, caressing me in a way that had my skin crawling. “Perhaps you should check the door is locked, we wouldn’t want anyone to interrupt us.” He double checked the golden handle of the door, ensuring that the lock was indeed in place as I closed the curtains. After he checked the door he walked over the record player in the corner, letting the needle dance across the vinyl, classical music filling the suite. I returned to the middle of the room and Schulz’s hands were on me once again. He pressed his lips to mine roughly, biting and licking at my mouth like a rabid dog. I suppressed my cringe and kissed him back, shutting my mind off from the reality of what was happening.

“Turn around, whore.” He demanded. I wasn’t frightened by his tone; men like him didn’t hold that power over me anymore. His knuckles grazed my bare back as he moved to unzip my dress. I slipped the push dagger from my garter before the fabric fell to my ankles. The blade cut into my hand as I concealed it as he grabbed my shoulders roughly and pushed me down onto the bed. I moved quickly, swinging my legs to kneel on the mattress, slipping the knife into the back of my black underwear before beckoning Schulz to join me I pulled the jacket part way down his shoulders. He sat with his back to me. I left his blazer halfway down his arms, moving to loosen his tie next. I swallowed bile as he palmed at his crotch, grabbing a hold of my wrist and roughly pulling my hand between his legs. In a swift manoeuvre I pulled my hand from his grasp and wrapped my legs around him, one hand covering his mouth and the other grabbing the push dagger and dragging it across his throat.

“ Сладких снов, чувак .”

Sweet dreams, prick.

He thrashed against me, but I laid back and held tightly onto him, waiting for his to bleed out. I wasn’t sure exactly how long it had taken him to bleed out, it had felt to me like an eternity in but a moment. I shoved his limp body from me, his blood dripping from me as I stood pulling my suit from under the bed which had been planted for me whilst Schulz and I were at the opera together.

The clip of my belt almost covered the sound behind me, but I was far too adept after all of my cycles through the Red Room, there was no sneaking up on me anymore. I threw my arm backward, before I’d even looked, slicing through the air in the direction of the person who’d been behind me, they caught my arm before I could reach them, one of their gloved hands wrapping around the back of my neck and slamming my head against the table, knocking my glass onto the ground, whiskey splashing onto the marble as it shattered. I caught sight of the person in my peripheral, black mask covering all but his eyes and lips. He slammed my head against the table a second time, the turn of my head letting me see the gun holstered at his hip. I jammed the push dagger into the side of his thigh, pulling it out and stabbing him multiple times in the area, forcing him to release me as he groaned in pain. I ducked under the punch he threw, slipping beneath his arm and attacking him from behind and tackling him onto the ground and ripping the mask from him before grabbing onto his blonde hair and slamming his head against the marble tiles, red smearing across the floor when I lifted his head up again. He threw me off of him and grabbed a hold of my throat, straddling my waist as he choked me.

There was blood coating his lips and his nose was crooked to a painful angle. I pressed my thumbs into his eyes but he moved his head back out of my reach, grip tightening. He didn’t budge no matter how much I hit and kicked him. Eventually, I managed to get the gun from his belt holster, slamming the base into his head. His grip loosened but it took another hit to get him off guard enough to buck him off of me. I swung my legs around quickly, bringing myself into a crouched defensive position, it was then that I clocked the octopus skull tattoo on his neck. I didn’t know what it meant but I’d seen it before, these agents had tried to steal marks from us before, they would kill widows and take the credit for our hits. I swiped his feet out from under him, restraining him and punching again and again, he managed to get a hold of my wig, but it slipped from my head, light strands falling in front of my eyes. I punched him again stopping only when I felt the sharp pain in my side, glancing down to see the agent jamming a large shard from the whiskey glass into my abdomen. Blood poured onto his hand, he grabbed my actual hair this time, rolling over and pressing the side of my head into the marble floor. I steeled myself against the burning pain in my side reaching out for his gun that I’d dropped before, shooting him in the leg without a second thought. He cried out, gripping the wound on this thigh. I kicked him in the chest, attempting to crawl away but he was quick to grab my ankle and drag me back to him. Whoever the hell this guy was he was extremely well trained and evidently wanted me dead. He swiped my push dagger from the floor, swinging at my chest with it but I blocked his attack and used my free arm to twist his wrist before slamming my blocking arm against his once more. The dagger was still clutched in his fist as it impaled the under side of hit jaw, blood pouring from his mouth as I forced his to twist the blade, crying out in agony and exhaustion as I pushed harder, letting his lifeless body fall beside me. My cheeks were wet as I stumbled to the window, double tapping my comm to turn it on as I sat on the sill.

“Задание выполнено.”

Mission complete.

A long black rope descended from the roof then, a silver hook gleaming at the bottom of it. I clipped it onto my belt, sliding from the window and scaling down the building into the snow-covered street.

“Clean up required in room 103.” I muttered into the comm, pulling twice on the rope to signal I was off. The world was blurring around me as I stumbled into the open space behind the hotel. Blood covered my hand as I went, falling to my knees on the rough gravel path that was quickly being swallowed by snow.

I slipped the shirt back over my head with Pietro’s help. “He was Hydra, that agent, I didn’t really know what that meant back then though.”

“No wonder you don’t like being touched.” He had been completely silent for the entirety of my story, there were times when I wasn’t even sure he was breathing. I sighed, nodding gently as I watched the shadows that danced in his eyes.

I reached out for his hand, glancing up at him as my fingers wrapped around his wrist, using the grip to pull him closer. “This is different.” My hand smoothed over his knuckles and I laced my fingers through his, bringing his hand to my cheek. “I want you to touch me, Pietro.”

He exhaled deeply, letting his eyes close as his head canted forward. “Don’t say things like that, Nadia.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t understand the effect it has on me.”

I leaned closer to him. “So, make me understand.” His fingertips dug ever so slightly into my shoulder, brows furrowing, eyes still closed. His free hand landed on my other shoulder, gliding down to hold mine, bringing it to sit over his heart. The quick thuds matched my own beat for beat. I felt his breath ghost over my cheek as he leaned his forehead against mine.

The look he gave me was tender, gentle. “We can go slow. Whatever you want.”

#pietro maximoff x ofc #pietro maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff #marvel fanfiction #pietro marvel #avengers fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson smut #pietro x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #atj smut #marvel smut #avengers smut #marvel avengers #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff smut

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luxaofhesperides · 1 year

Text

those who serve.

CHAPTER THREE: a transition.

chapter one, chapter two or the full fic on ao3.

how did i write 10k.... my self-control is nonexistent. enjoy.

“Is there anyone else who works here?”

Alfred stops to consider the question, then turns to face Danny, bringing a stop to their tour of the manor. “On occasion. Many galas or events require specific companies to set up and organize the spaces open to the public. I also hire a landscaping company once a year to tend to the yard, and a cleaning company to set every room in the manor straight.”

Danny hums thoughtfully. They’ve been walking through the manor for around an hour now and have only just finished the first floor. Alfred is very in-depth for this tour, speaking of not only what each room is, but also brief snippets of the history of the Wayne family, supplemented by a multitude of portraits hanging in the hallways.

“But there’s no one else to help with daily tasks? It’s just you?”

“That is correct. There was a full staff many years ago, but they had left after Master Bruce’s parents had died. I alone remained to care for Master Bruce and the Manor.”

“And no one else ever came by to help? Bruce didn’t offer to hire anyone to help you?”

Bruce had been nice so far, letting Danny into his home and office, promising to work out the details for him alongside Tim. They had gotten a strange look on their faces when Danny reluctantly admitted that he didn’t legally exist and had no social security number to put into the paperwork. Stranger, though, was the fact that they didn’t ask any follow up questions besides basic information about himself: age, date of birth, allergies and medical conditions.

And then they said they’d get it all sorted out and sent him on his way with Alfred, who had appeared behind him without him noticing.

It’s all very suspicious. Danny’s starting to worry that the Wayne’s might be leading a mob; he knows getting legal identification and records for him will involve some illegal work. Nice of them to do it, but still a reason why he can’t trust them.

“Though it has come up occasionally,” Alfred says, “I have refused each person who sought employment here. There have been too many people who wished to take advantage of the Wayne family’s wealth and fame. I have found plans for hostage situations, theft, even selling personal secrets to magazines.”

“Yikes,” Danny winces. “That sucks. So why did you agree to take me on? Shouldn’t you have done like, I don’t know, a background check?”

“I only need to know if you are a good person.” Alfred smiles at him and places a hand on his shoulder. “You are a very good person, Danny. I would be honored to entrust the family to you.”

Tears well up in Danny’s eyes. He blinks them away quickly, trying to hide how touched he is. No one’s ever trusted him so much, or so quickly. Even as Phantom, back in Amity Park, it took a long time for people to trust that he wanted to keep them safe. Sam and Tucker may have believed in him to protect them when things got rough, but they also saw first hand all his blunders and mistakes.

Alfred doesn’t see any of that. He sees a homeless teen with nothing to his name, no family or home or possessions, and is willingly putting his trust in him.

Danny wants to prove him right. He wants to show that he can be trusted, that this isn’t a mistake. He’ll take on the whole world if that’s what it means.

“Thanks,” he manages to get out.

“Think nothing of it, Danny.” With a final pat to his shoulder, Alfred steps away and continues the tour, leading Danny through the second floor.

Much of the manor looks the same: big and expensive. There are so many paintings and portraits and fancy rugs everywhere. There’s potted plants and vases set out on display, statue busts and sculptures. It’s a little dizzying to think about so Danny tries to put it all out of his mind and just go with the flow.

He’s going to spend so much time getting lost here, he can already tell.

Alfred is a good guide. It’s too bad that Danny’s spotty memory is going to make this tour be mostly useless.

Still, walking through the manor is a nice reprieve from his conversation in Bruce’s office.

It stays nice up until they reach the family wing, where everyone’s bedrooms are. Alfred’s just going over whose rooms are never to be entered without explicit permission, and whose rooms need to be checked every few days to be cleaned.

Danny’s listening attentively, trying to memorize each name and match it to a door, noting which ones are keep out and which ones are clean occasionally.

He’s listening until a sudden chill races up his spine and his spins around, placing himself in front of Alfred on instinct as he readies himself for a fight. He didn’t hear anyone behind him, didn’t feel the same coldness that alerted him to a ghost nearby, but there was a shift in the air, a warning that he needs to be on his guard.

There’s a girl in front of him. She had snuck up behind him completely silently and he almost didn’t notice her presence at all.

It’s hard to tell how old she is. She must be older than him, surely, but she looks youthful enough to be any age over fifteen. Her eyes are dark and even though she smiles at him, Danny can only see her as a threat. It doesn’t matter that her body is fully relaxed and her hands are open; she doesn’t need to move to be dangerous. She just is.

“Miss Cassandra,” Alfred greets warmly. “You didn’t come down for breakfast.”

“Slept in,” she says, “Smoothie?”

“I shall make you one after I finish giving Danny a tour of the manor.”

Cassandra nods and looks over Danny, eyes scanning him carefully. “New brother?” she asks.

“No,” Danny says before Alfred can answer. “Definitely not. I’m… working for Alfred? Will be working with Alfred? I don’t know the official name for the position I’m going to get.”

“You are to be my apprentice. And later on, a butler much like myself. Traditionally, there is strict schooling a butler must undergo to gain that title, but this family has never been traditional itself. It will work out with time.”

Butler school is a thing? That almost distracts Danny enough to stop paying attention to Cassandra. Almost.

He steps back when she reaches for him and Alfred moves out from behind him. “She will not harm you,” he says to Danny quietly, though he has no doubt Cassandra can hear every word, “And she will not touch you so long as you tell her not to.”

“I will not hurt,” she confirms. “Hand? For hello?” Then she signs something and looks at him expectantly.

“I don’t know ASL.”

She holds out a hand. “For hello,” she repeats.

It clicks, then, that she’s asking for a handshake. Warily, he reaches out to shake her hand, and despite his fear, her grip is light and easy to break if needed.

“Cass,” she says. “Welcome.”

“Danny,” he returns, “Thanks. I guess I’ll be seeing you around a lot? Since I’ll be working here.”

She nods. “My room is off limits. Ask first.”

“You got it.” Danny pulls his hand away, glad that she didn’t pull a Bruce and keep hold of him. He gives her a weak thumbs up which she returns enthusiastically.

Then she turns to Alfred and asks, “Little brothers?”

“Master Damian has gone to school and Master Tim is in the study. Though he may have left to work downstairs. I shall call you up when I have made your smoothies.”

“Lots of fruit,” she says, “No green.” And she waves goodbye and disappears down the hallway, heading for the staircase.

It’s only as she’s leaving that Danny realizes he can’t hear her footsteps at all. She’s clearly not floating like he is, but she’s completely silent anyways. The way she moves makes it seem like she’s either about to start twirling around and dancing, or throw herself into a fight.

This family is definitely a mob family. She’s probably one of their best enforcers.

“Miss Cassandra will often leave without warning. She will return just as suddenly. She can take care of herself more than other members of this family, but she cannot be trusted with laundry,” Alfred says.

“Oh. Okay.”

Danny stares at Alfred, wondering if he’s going to say anything about how obviously dangerous she is, but all he does is nod and start walking again. He doesn’t want to bring up her unusual way of speaking—it’s probably rude to ask about such things, and Danny doesn’t want to be kicked out for being insensitive—and chalks it up to a language development issue and puts it out of his mind.

He can understand her and she can understand him. That’s all they need.

The tour continues without any issues. No one else pops in to surprise him and the walk through the yard to the greenhouse is nice and relaxing.

Danny’s especially looking forward to helping Alfred out there. Trimming back hedges, weeding flower beds, tending to the herb and vegetable gardens; it’s so nice to live someplace that isn’t ecto-contaminated. It’s actually safe to eat all the plants that are growing out there.

It’s a nice change from what he’s used to.

By the time they get back to the kitchen, it’s been a few hours. Danny’s starting to feel the pull of sleep, unused to being awake while the sun is up. He’ll have to stop being nocturnal if he intends to work this job.

He can’t help Alfred during the busiest hours of the day if he’s knocked out and snoring before ten in the morning.

Alfred, being who he is, gently ushers Danny into a seat at the table then bustles around the kitchen, setting out a blender and a few large glasses.

“I can help,” Danny starts, rising to stand.

“I’m sure you can, but not today,” Alfred says, pinning Danny in place with a stern glare. “I know you are tired. Rest a while and we shall work out your accommodations after I am finished here.”

“I can just come back later. I’ve got a place to sleep in the city.”

“Absolutely not. We have more than enough empty beds here.”

A bed does sound nice. Waking up on a concrete floor or with a crick in his neck from sitting up against a wall all day is unpleasant. A bed with pillows and blankets? While it was normal for him once, now it sounds like heaven.

He’ll ignore the Wayne family being a mob for a good bed.

In fact, Danny will even settle for a subpar bed, though he’ll be bitter about rich people not spending their money on decent mattresses.

So he sits and watches Alfred make smoothies, chopping up fruit and dropping ice into the blender. His eyes start closing, slowly, and he forces himself not to slump onto the table and pass out. Falling asleep in the kitchen is nothing new to him, but this isn’t his home. This is his future workplace and he needs to learn how to be professional, but he’s sure step one is don’t fall asleep at the table.

Danny is so close to failing step one.

“Hey Alfred,” he says, trying to stay awake, “How much time do you spend cooking?”

“Quite a lot. I often spend mornings preparing every meal for the day so lunch and dinner can be quickly made.”

“It doesn’t leave you much time to do other things, right?”

“I suppose so.”

Danny nods, biting back a yawn as Alfred looks over, pausing for a moment to give Danny his full attention. “I don’t know how to cook or anything, but I can help with other things while you’re in here.”

“You do not need to worry about that right now, Danny. I plan on having you shadow me for a week and learn how to do many of my tasks. And I would always appreciate a hand in the kitchen; previous experience doesn’t matter at all when I can teach you everything you need to know.”

Job talk is out of the question then. Alfred’s just going to shut it all down until Danny’s more awake and capable of keeping focused. Totally fair, even if Danny wants to keep prodding to get all the details he can about this job.

“Can you tell me more about everyone who lives here?” he asks, turning the conversation down a different path.

“I do believe you will learn more about them on your own,” Alfred says, popping the lid back onto the blender, “They will be eager to meet you, now that you’re here.”

“We will have a family dinner,” Cass says from behind him, just before the blender starts up and swallows up every other sound in the kitchen.

Danny flinches hard enough to bang his knees against the underside of the table. He’s wide awake now, adrenaline running through him, and he has to hold his breath in an attempt to stop from gasping or having his heart give out from shock.

“Cass,” he says, “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” she says, raising her voice to be heard.

A moment later, the blender stops and Alfred starts pouring it into one of the tall cups. “Miss Cassandra,” he says, somehow knowing she’s there without turning around or hearing her, “Your smoothie is ready.”

She crosses the kitchen in silent steps and takes the offered cup with a smile. “Thanks,” she says, signing at the same time. “Family dinner tonight.”

“I see. Will Master Jason be returning as well?”

“I will get him,” she promises. There’s a glint in her eyes that speaks of nothing but trouble. Danny feels bad for this Jason person, but has no intention to help him. Cass is not someone he wants to go up against, no matter how friendly she acts.

She turns to Danny just before she leaves the kitchen and tells him, “Go sleep.”

He can do nothing but nod, but it’s enough for her and she walks away without another word, sipping on her smoothie.

Alfred begins preparing another smoothie, and Danny considers asking who it’s for. If it’s for him, he’ll need to find a way to politely decline it on account of not being used to having a full stomach these days and starting to feel a little sick at the thought of more food.

Thankfully, he doesn’t offer it to Danny once it’s made. Alfred just keeps the glass set aside on the counter and starts washing the dishes.

He has to bite down an offer to help; Alfred has made it very clear that Danny isn’t doing anything at all today besides meeting the family and getting a look around the manor. It grates at him, having to sit and do nothing, but he doesn’t want to overstep his bounds and get kicked out before he can do anything.

That would be a terrible start to his career. Whatever his career ends up being.

Just as Alfred’s putting the last of the dishes onto the drying rack, Tim walks in and says, “Cass has a smoothie.” Then he spots the glass left on the counter, untouched, and goes, “Oh.”

Danny considers this more proof that Alfred has magic. It’s just a magic specific to predicting the people he considers under his care.

“I thought you would want one as well,” Alfred says.

Tim nods and grabs the glass to take a sip. “Mhmm. You can’t expect me not to come running when you make smoothies. Could use a little spice, though.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s good! I swear! Sweet and spicy is a good combination.”

“I will not be putting spices in my smoothies, Master Tim. I do have some self-respect.”

Tim shrugs and stops arguing. “All right. Your kitchen, your rules. I’ll get my spicy smoothies elsewhere.” Then he turns to Danny, looks him over with a critical eye, and says, “You look tired. Do you wanna crash in one of the guest rooms for a nap?”

“I was just about to have Danny pick out his room,” Alfred says, “If you would follow me, Danny.”

He hurries to get up, hastily pushing the chair back in, and falls into step behind Alfred. Tim joins them, for reasons unknown to Danny, but his company has been nice during the few hours Danny’s been in the manor, so he doesn’t mind.

They don’t go to the family wing. There’s apparently a servants’ wing, and though he isn’t a fan of the name, he’s glad to be put somewhere far away from the Wayne family. With them being the way they are, he wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up with them standing over him in the middle of the night if his room was in the same wing as theirs. Maybe not to hurt him, but just to watch him and make sure he’s alright.

There’s nothing that says they would do that, but it’s the vibe he’s getting. Nice, a little prone to worry, and very much capable of going about the wrong way to make sure everything’s okay.

Hell, they’re making him a new identity through definitely illegal means just because he can’t do anything without legally existing.

He’s better off not thinking too hard about the Wayne family, honestly. At least, not until he can do some research on them once he can access the internet again.

“Here are my private quarters,” Alfred says, nodding to a door. “I would like for you to choose a room in this hallway, so that I am nearby in case you need anything.”

There are only six other doors in the hallway, which means these are fairly big rooms. Danny looks over his options and goes for the door on the other side of the hallway, a door down from Alfred’s room. Close enough to hear Alfred if he needs help, close enough to call for help, but far enough that Danny doesn’t feel crowded.

He opens it, hesitating slightly until Alfred nods at him to go in, then tries very hard not to gape too obviously.

Servants’ wing brought to mind an image of small, cramped rooms that held only the bare minimum. A bed, definitely, maybe a desk, possible a closet or wardrobe. The bathroom would be separate, maybe down the hall in its own room.

That is not what the room looks like. It’s big, larger than the living room and kitchen of his old house combined. There’s a couch and a low table in what must act as a lounging area, then a desk on the far wall just beneath a window, and a large bed in the back of the room. A door off to the side goes to the bathroom and another is open to show an empty closet. A drawer is set beside it, a ship in a bottle on top of it as the only decoration in the room.

“Oh wow,” he says, taking it all in. “Are you sure I can have this room? I can take something smaller.”

“No way. If you’re going to be working with us, the least we can do is give you a good room as thanks for all the things you’ll have to deal with from us.” Tim nudges his shoulder, a gentle, friendly little gesture that forces Danny deeper into the room.

“You can redecorate it however you like,” Alfred says, “And we shall go shopping to get everything you need once you’ve settled in a little more.”

This is way too much.

Abruptly, Danny feels lightheaded.

He hasn’t even done anything yet. And here’s Alfred, and by extension the Wayne family, offering up not just a job, but a home, a future, a place to belong.

“Woah!” Tim grabs his arm suddenly and Danny slumps against him. The world feels a little more real now that he has someone keeping him from drifting away. He must have been swaying a bit because the room settles into stillness just as he realizes that the floor is tilting out from under him. “Let’s get you to the bed.”

Tim leads him across the room and Alfred follows, a hand against Danny’s back to hold him steady.

“I suppose this was a little too much excitement,” Alfred says, “Get some rest, Danny. We can work everything out later.”

“No,” he mumbles, but can’t fight back as he’s gently maneuvered onto the bed. “I’m supposed to shadow you.”

“There is no rush.” The pillow is heavenly soft beneath his head. All the strength leaves his body and Danny realizes just how exhausted he’s been, running on fumes for the past month and not noticing because there was never time to notice. Now his body is making the executive choice to rest, uncaring of his concerns of sleeping in a strange new environment, of the responsibilities he needs to take on in order to survive in this dimension.

“I’ll let everyone know to leave you alone,” Tim says, voice lowered until it’s just louder than a whisper. Danny forces his eyes to cooperate and squints in Tim’s direction just to see him leave the room—Danny’s new room—and that’s all he sees before his eyes slide shut, unable to resist the siren call of sleep.

It feels like he’s falling. Like he’s sinking, neck deep in quicksand with no way out. The world quickly fades away, and the last thing he hears is Alfred saying, “Sleep well, my boy. You are safe now.”

And, despite all his doubts, Danny believes him.

Danny must be dreaming. None of this feels real, certainly, but he’s not sure if that’s because of the twisting and confusing nature of dreams, or the absurd and unreasonable behavior of rich people.

He sleeps.

He had (allegedly) woken up after six hours, just after Damian had returned from school. After he had felt a little more human and cognizant, he wandered the manor until he managed to make his way to the kitchen. When Alfred wasn’t there, he searched every room and hallway until Cass appeared behind him and pointed him towards the family den, where he was dusting.

From then on, Danny stuck close to Alfred, following after him as he spoke about what he was doing, how he was doing it, and how often he does each task. It’s easy enough to understand, and Danny’s confident that he can pick it up quickly enough and help Alfred out by reducing his duties some.

The idea of working for the Wayne family isn’t so alarming now that he knows what he’ll be doing. It’s all just cleaning and taking care of the manor. Alfred can handle tending to the actual family, and he can ask Danny for help on anything.

This could actually work out well, which will be a first for Danny.

He thinks it’s all fine up until Cass meets him in the living room, takes hold of his arm, and grins at Alfred. “Got everyone,” she says, without offering any context, then drags him into the dining room.

Too many people are in there and they all stare at him.

There are plates set on the table and almost everyone is seated. Cass direct him to a chair and Danny suddenly realizes that this is a family dinner and he’s expected to sit and eat with them.

He must be lucid dreaming. It must be a nightmare. But when he discretely pinches himself, he can feel the sting of pain clearly.

“Sit,” Cass tells him, and he sits because he doesn’t want to know what will happen to him if he disobeys. Especially since it’s Cass, especially since Bruce is watching him.

Distantly, he wonders if he can fake his death and run away to another city. Before he can go down that train of thought, Bruce clears his throat and gathers everyone’s attention. They all look to him, then glance back at Danny, trading knowing looks with each other.

“Everyone, I’m sure you’ve heard already, but this is Danny,” Bruce says, “He is not mine. He’s Alfred’s. Any comments can go to him this time instead of me.”

“Thank you, Master Bruce,” Alfred says with a polite bite in his voice. “Danny has graciously offered to help me in my duties of taking care of the manor. Do treat him well.”

Apparently, that’s all the introduction he gets. Everyone returns their attention to him, blatantly staring. Some look annoyed, others look excited. All of them have a hard light in their eyes, as if they can peel back every layer of him and find all his secrets just by looking.

It’s unnerving.

Danny, hesitantly, waves to the room at large, then tucks his hands back under the table.

Across from him, a man with a bright grin and the bluest eyes Danny’s ever seen leans forward. “Hey! I’m Dick, Bruce’s oldest.”

He almost asks what he did to earn the name Dick before his common sense smacks him in the back of his head and stops him. “Hi,” he returns weakly.

Taking their cue, the rest of the brood go around introducing themselves. Besides Dick is Damian who gives him a curt nod, then Cass who waves at him happily. There’s a blond girl who has a smile that screams trouble; she introduces herself as “Steph, not Stephanie unless you’re looking for a throw down”, then adds that she’s not Bruce’s kid, she just likes Alfred’s cooking, which is very valid.

On the Danny’s side of the table is Tim, who rolls his eyes at the man beside him, who has a streak of white hair above his forehead who gruffly introduces himself as Jason and says nothing more. On the other side of Danny is a a boy who looks to be the same age as him and so far has the calmest demeanor of everyone in the manor.

“I’m Duke,” he says, “I’m mentoring under Bruce right now, so I’ll be hanging out here often. Usually during mornings or evenings, so I probably won’t be in your way too much.”

“There are a few others,” Bruce says, as if this group isn’t enough, “Though they weren’t able to make it tonight. I’m sure they’ll come by to meet you soon enough.”

“Great,” Danny says, trying not to sound like he’s dying. He fails, and Steph’s muffled laughter makes heat rush to his face. Would it be too much to go intangible and just sink through the floor? Surely once dinner comes out they’ll be too busy eating to notice Danny melting from the sheer mortification of being so lame in front of the family he’s going to work for.

Luckily, Alfred comes to his rescue by announcing that he’ll bring dinner out now. Before Danny can offer to help, yet again, Jason roughly pushes himself away from the table and declares that he’ll help. He’s walking into the kitchen before anyone can respond and Alfred just shakes his head with a fond smile on his face.

Maybe that’s the way to do it. Say he’s going to help, then get to it before Alfred can do anything to stop him.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks. Danny startles, looking away from the door to the kitchen, waiting for Alfred and Jason to reemerge, and blinks at Bruce.

“Fine?”

“I was a little worried when I heard you had passed out.”

“I didn’t pass out,” Danny refutes immediately. “I was just tired. I’m a little nocturnal right now, but I’ll be back to normal soon enough.”

“It sounds like your sleep schedule is like a lot of ours,” Steph says.

Dick shoots a sharp look at Bruce as he says, “Sounds like you’ll fit right in.” Somehow, it sounds like a threat.

“I’ve got your paperwork figured out. We’ll just need to get your picture taken for your ID.” Bruce completely ignores Dick.

“I can do that,” Tim interjects, “We just need a good backdrop, something in a neutral color.”

“How about using one of the bedsheets?” Duke suggests.

“Yeah, that would work. Can you hold it up for me?”

“Sure, just let me know when you wanna do it. We’ll have to find a good one.”

“So!” Dick claps his hands together, “Tell us a bit about yourself, Danny.”

Danny freezes. These people definitely know something’s up with him. They helped create a new identity for him! They heard his conditions for staying! They know he’s not normal, but he doesn’t know what they might be thinking about him. What’s something mundane he can share that doesn’t have anything to do with death or ghosts or experiments?

“What do you want to know?” he asks slowly, wondering if he’s just offered himself up for the slaughter.

“Who’s your favorite hero?”

…What. What?

Danny casts his mind around for an answer. He hasn’t really kept up with comics back home, too busy with ghosts and school to do much of anything else. The video games he usually plays don’t have superheroes, and there haven’t been any good superhero movies to come out, so he hasn’t watched any in years.

Even then, none of the superhero characters in his dimension were particularly interesting to him.

“I don’t really have one.”

“Come on, I’m sure you do! There’s so many options, you have to like at least one!” Steph insists, looking overly invested in his answer.

“Um.”

Once again, Alfred saves him by entering the dining room again, pushing a cart full of plates. Jason follows after him with a cart holding empty glasses and two pitchers of water. All conversation comes to a stop as they eagerly wait to receive their plate, each member of the Wayne family thanking Alfred.

Bruce is the only one to thank Jason, who just huffs and quickly moves away from him.

Danny quietly says his thanks when he gets his plate and tries not to feel too touched when he sees that his portion is visibly smaller than anyone else’s. He hadn’t even asked, but Alfred noticed and adjusted accordingly, plating only what Danny would be able to eat without getting sick.

Yeah, Danny can ignore any suspicious mob activities so long as he can stay with Alfred. The man deserves the world for all his kindness, but the best Danny can do is give him a little help.

He thinks he’s managed to dodge the question, now that everyone is digging into dinner, but Steph is nothing but relentless. Mouth full, she says, “Come on, Danny, you haven’t answered yet!”

“Miss Stephanie, please do not speak with your mouth full,” Alfred scolds.

“What question?” Jason asks, glancing towards Danny for a split second before quickly turning away.

“Favorite superhero,” Tim answers.

“So?” Steph prompts, looking at him expectantly.

Why is this such a big deal? Danny tries to think of an answer, but nothing comes to mind. Maybe they’ll accept someone he looks up to as an answer? And there’s someone who pops into his mind immediately.

“My big sister,” he says, “She’s my hero.”

“Aww!” Dick coos at his answer, looking touched. “That’s so sweet!”

“Yeah.” Danny smiles, relaxing a bit now that he can speak about something that’s actually happy for once. “She’s great. She’s taken care of me for a long time, and even though she can be annoying, especially with her bad habit of psychoanalyzing everyone around her, I could always trust her to have my back no matter what.”

Cass taps on the table to get his attention. “Where is she? Safe?”

“I… I hope so. She’ll be safer now that I’m not around her, in any case.”

“If you are in any danger,” Bruce begins, then Danny catches the sound of multiple people kicking at him from under the table. “We can discuss this later,” he amends.

Okay. No longer a happy topic! He’ll remember that for any future discussions.

“As sweet as that is,” Steph interrupts, “I was looking for an answer about an actual hero. Like, someone from the Justice League maybe.”

The what now?

“Wonder Woman is obviously the only correct answer,” Jason says.

“Batman and Robin are far superior. They can keep up with all the others without any powers,” Damian argues.

“But they’re not Wonder Woman,” Jason says, as if that’s all the argument he needs. “Besides, Batman is a loser who can barely keep Gotham safe.”

“Black Bat is better than all of them,” Tim says, throwing in his two cents.

Cass smiles at him and says, “Red Robin. He is kind and smart.”

“I think anyone from the Titans is a good choice,” Dick says, “They’re all skilled and have saved countless lives.”

“I guess Nightwing’s pretty cool, but the Signal is better,” Duke adds.

“So?” Steph says, leaning onto the table in an attempt to bridge the distance between them. “C’mon, pick anyone.”

Danny blinks, then slowly looks at each person around the table. In his mind, superheroes are fictional. Just a fun genre to play in, a poplar media that nerds gravitate towards. Technically, Phantom counts as a hero, but he’s also a non-sentient entity according to the government and only operates in Amity, rather than across the Earth.

The way everyone at the dinner table is talking about superheroes as if they’re real has him concerned. On one hand, they could just be a family of nerds who love their comic books. On the other hand, this is an entirely new dimension where superheroes could exist and Danny didn’t notice because he hasn’t looked into the happenings of this world yet.

This is clearly going to out him as Not From Here, but he needs to know, so Danny slowly asks, “Are you… saying that superheroes are real?”

The entire room freezes. Half the table looks at him incredulously while the other half look deep in thought, as if they’re realizing something unfortunate.

“Heroes are real,” Bruce answers. His voice is calm, neutral, but his eyes are stormy. “Some work with governments. Others operate outside the law in order to protect people. But there are many, all over the world, and some join forces to create teams that deal with certain threats or cover specific locations.”

Heroes are real.

“Are you fucking with me,” Danny says without thinking.

“Though I am sure this is a surprise to you Danny,” Alfred says from the end of the table where he’s refilling Duke’s glass, “Do remember to eat.”

Moving on autopilot, Danny stabs his fork down and shoves a stalk of grilled asparagus into his mouth.

“No?” Dick answers, looking hesitant for the first time that evening. “They’re real. We have a group of heroes in Gotham: Batman and his birds. Also Oracle and sometimes her Birds of Prey.”

“So you just have people who become heroes and fight crime? Regular people?”

“Some have powers due to the metagene. Others have powers from… other means that are not well understood. And some heroes have powers because they’re aliens.”

“Y’all got actual aliens?!” Danny shouts. He realizes belatedly that he’s jumped out of his seat to stand, hands on the table and leaning forward towards Dick, eagerly awaiting his answer.

“Superman and Martian Manhunter,” Tim helpfully supplies.

“Is Martian Manhunter an actual Martian? From Mars?”

“Sure is.”

“He’s my new favorite,” Danny declares.

Almost immediately, everyone at the table, sans Bruce and Alfred, start throwing out their objections, insisting that other heroes are better and demanding to know where his Gotham Pride is at, nevermind the fact that he’s not even a citizen of Gotham.

“I don’t care,” Danny says, “He’s from Mars. That automatically makes him cooler than anyone else. I am not taking criticism at this time.”

The rest of dinner is spent arguing over who’s the better hero, during which Danny stubbornly refuses to change his stance. Despite the raised voices and the dramatic threats, everyone is smiling, having fun as they shout at each other.

The Waynes may be a mob family, but they’re also nerds and, even better, fans. It’s so fun that Danny doesn’t even realize that he’s managed to clean off his plate now that stress isn’t making his stomach twist itself into knots. In fact, he’s managed to forget that he’s eating dinner with a rich family in their giant manor because the atmosphere reminds him of a group of friends hanging out at Nasty Burger, all laughter and good vibes.

It lifts his mood and makes him more comfortable walking through the halls, listening to everyone chatter about various topics. They split up near the family den; Dick, Damian, and Steph go in to watch movies while Tim grabs Jason and mentions getting some more work done on a project they’re working on together, while Duke leaves to do homework in the library.

Bruce has vanished along with Cass and Alfred had insisted that Danny get some more rest while he washes all the dishes.

Despite his earlier sleep, exhaustion still hangs heavy in his limbs. Having a full stomach only makes it more obvious just how much rest he needs still. Every part of him wants to curl up under a blanket and forget about the world outside, but he can’t.

He still needs to be vigilant. The Waynes may be fun, but he still can’t trust them not to suddenly stab him in the back if they discover his halfa status.

And Alfred will need his help. He needs to stay up just in case Alfred needs something.

Danny, unsurprisingly, falls asleep within ten minutes of sitting down on the couch in his room. He intended to wait for Alfred to show up or for someone else to ask for his help, but the room was quiet, far away from everyone else, and he was so comfortable that he just… dozed off.

He stirs just slightly when he feels someone pick him up; whoever it is has large arms. Like his dad. Jack Fenton hadn’t picked up Danny to tuck him in for years, but only because Danny got used to staying up absurdly late on account of fighting ghosts and homework. It’s the safest he’s felt in months, cradled by those arms that gently set him onto the bed and tuck him in.

It takes no effort at all to sink back into sleep, dreaming of nothing but the peaceful quiet of the stars.

The second time he wakes up, some of the heaviness in his limbs has eased, but it’s still there. How much sleep could he possibly need as a half-dead boy? More apparently. His body is making its demands very clear.

Still, Danny forces himself up. If he’s going to work with Alfred, he needs to cut off his bad habit of staying in bed when he wakes up in the morning. He needs to be better. He needs to prove that he can earn his place here and make something worthwhile of himself.

That he’s even been given the chance to do this is nothing short of a miracle.

A quick look at the clock tells him that it’s barely six in the morning; this is usually around the time he starts looking for somewhere to settle down for the day. Now it doesn’t mark the end of his day, but the beginning.

Danny moves to get up and head to the bathroom, wash his face to look a little more put together, when he catches sight of something on the bed that wasn’t there yesterday.

Folded clothes. And the note on top reads: We will buy you new clothes soon. For now, Tim has extras that he will give to you. -B

Bruce Wayne, resident rich man and future boss, delivered Tim’s clothes to Danny. Everything about that sentence is absurd, but it’s apparently what happened.

He’ll… worry about all that later. He can only focus on so many things at once.

He needs to get it together. Make a plan. Some kind of to-do list. Something like:

Wash your face to look less like a very sad racoon.

Wear new clothes that haven’t been stuck on your body for weeks.

Breakfast?

Do stuff????

Job accomplished.

It needs some work, but it’s a good starting point. He’ll figure out the rest as he goes. Step one is easy enough to accomplish, as is step two. Wearing something clean has never felt so good and Danny has a new appreciation for the wonders of laundry. It helps that Tim has good taste in clothes; everything he’s given to Danny is soft and slightly oversized, just the way he likes it.

Breakfast is a little harder, as Danny wanders through the halls in search of the kitchen. He must have taken a wrong turn somewhere because he ends up at an indoor pool?

No one’s around.

It’s as good a time as any to go invisible and start walking through walls until he finds some familiar rooms.

Or familiar faces, he thinks, as he stumbles upon Cass hanging upside down from a light fixture. He stares at her, a little worried but mostly bemused, as she scrolls on her phone as if this is completely normal. And maybe it is for her, who is he to say?

Just as he wonders if he can go down the hall and walk back, visible and completely human, to ask her for directions, Cass tilts her head and looks at him.

Or rather, in his general direction, dark eyes scanning across the hallway before settling almost directly on him despite his invisibility.

“Who?” she calls out, searching the area.

There’s no possible way she could have known. But somehow she does. Cass knows he’s here and that’s really not great. How is he supposed to hide if things go wrong? She’ll just hunt him down through instinct alone and that’s more terrifying than any GIW agent or his parents.

Danny all but hurls himself through the wall and hurries away, looking over his shoulder as he recklessly goes through the manor.

It’s almost an accident when he phases through the wall into the dining room; seeing that long table, the chandeliers, the stillness of the room is an honest relief. Here’s somewhere he’s more familiar with.

And through the door is the kitchen where Alfred is already getting started on his work for the day.

Danny drops his invisibility at the doorway, stepping into the kitchen with a quiet, “Morning, Alfred.”

Alfred doesn’t startle. He just looks over with a small smile and asks, “Danny. How did you sleep?”

“Fine. Slept longer than I’m used to.”

“Do take a seat and I’ll have breakfast ready for you shortly.”

Danny steps up to the counter, hovering beside Alfred, calling upon his ingrained stubbornness to ignore Alfred’s not-orders.

“I can make my breakfast,” he says, “Or, like, you could teach me how to make breakfast.”

Alfred doesn’t respond for a long moment, looking only at the eggs sizzling away in the frying pan, then sighs. “Very well. Though you do not need to start your workday before eight in the morning.”

“I want to learn,” Danny insists.

“So you shall, Danny. Let’s begin with making some French toast.”

From then, Alfred shifts seamlessly into teaching mode, showing him where everything in the kitchen is and watching over Danny carefully as he cracks an egg and adds milk and vanilla extract. He moves to the side to give Danny space at the oven, taking over the front-left section with his own frying pan.

He’s nervous about burning it, but Alfred is keeping track of both their cooking, instructing Danny when to turn down the heat and flip over the bread.

It gets easier the more he makes them, going through nearly an entire loaf of bread, each slice of French toast better than the last. Danny plates them carefully, trying not to tip over the stack as he sets them in each family member’s plates. Five plates is a lot, but knowing how many more people are in this family make Danny all the more glad that he’s here to help Alfred.

This is a lot of work for one person. Alfred is definitely magic. There’s no other explanation as to how he’s managed all this time.

Danny gets to work in peace with Alfred for just over an hour before the residents of the manor begin to trickle in. He’s working on carefully cutting strawberries to go with the French toast, keeping his fingers curled just as Alfred instructed so he doesn’t accidentally cut them off.

It’s strange being the only thing in the kitchen that can hurt himself. None of the food comes to alive and tries to attack him, nor are there stray experimental weapons lying around ready to be set off as soon as he gets close.

Tim enters the kitchen silently with Cass by his side. Somehow, Tim already has a cup of coffee in hand. They both greet Alfred, then Danny, and Danny does his very best not to look too nervous in front of Cass.

Dick cartwheels into the kitchen two minutes after them, and Danny applauds him when he gives an exaggerated bow.

Damian follows, a cat trailing after him, and Bruce is the last to arrive.

They all settle at the table, quietly talking or trying to get a little more rest as they sit with their eyes closed. He feels awkward trying to navigate around this commonplace family moment, an outsider who suddenly forced his way in.

Each person he sets a plate in front of thanks him quietly, though Damian does so with some hesitancy and clear distrust. Alfred follows with cups of water or juice, then sets out syrup with a warning “not to cause another Incident.”

“You will get used to this in no time,” Alfred reassures him as they walk away from the table to get started on washing dishes. “There’s no rush.”

“If you say so,” Danny replies, twisting his hands in an attempt to get rid of some of his restlessness.

“Now, what do you feel like eating?”

He honestly doesn’t feel hungry at all. Not with how much he ate yesterday. “Nothing. I can wait until lunch.”

“That won’t do at all.”

“I really don’t think I can eat anything right now,” Danny says, “But I’ll probably have a bit of an appetite in the afternoon.”

“At least have some tea,” Alfred insists, and it sounds like a good idea, so Danny agrees and listens to Alfred talk about the different temperatures needed to brew different teas, as well as what can be added to certain types of tea but not others. Most of it goes in one ear and out the other, but Danny’s sure he’ll appreciate all this knowledge later once he’s expected to make tea alongside his other butler duties.

The first task that he’s given, without having to ask for it, is to fetch a mug, a teapot, and a tin of tea leaves. It takes some searching through the drawers and cupboards to find everything, but Danny manages to gather everything just as Alfred finishes washing the dishes.

With nothing else to do but watch as Alfred prepares tea, Danny sits on one of the bar stools, trying not to fidget too much as he listens to the Wayne family move at the table.

They’re all so quiet. No one speaks as they eat and it’s almost like they’re not there.

It’s so quiet, in fact, that when Tim pushes himself up from his chair, making it skid back across the floor loudly, Danny flinches.

He’s tired of being so jumpy and on edge all the time. The sudden surge of adrenaline that hit him leaves his heart stuck in his throat and his lungs stuttering around every breath. He’s better than this, he knows he is, but after all he’s gone through over the past few months, Danny can’t help it.

“Hey,” Tim says as he passes by, setting his empty coffee mug into the sink after rinsing it out.

Behind him, Danny can hear the rest of the Wayne family finish up their breakfast, standing and gathering empty plates. He manages to keep perfectly still this time, acting normal as they pass by and leave to get ready for their day.

Tim doesn’t leave. He hops up onto the bar stool beside Danny and rests his elbows on the counter with his arms folded, hands dangling above his lap. “Sleep well?” he asks, voice still rough with sleep.

“Yeah,” Danny says, “You?” Tim looks worse than yesterday, somehow. The bags under his eyes are dark enough to look like bruises and his eyes are slightly glazed over from exhaustion.

He shrugs. “Some. Only a few hours. Managed to fall asleep around… three in the morning?”

“How are you awake right now?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Tim says, “Comes with insomnia, I guess. Hard to fall asleep and harder to stay asleep.”

“If you say so,” Danny replies, feeling his concern for Tim rise with every word he says. Danny never got this bad, even during the worst of the ghost attacks that left him flying around Amity Park late at night with unfinished homework waiting for him in his room.

Alfred sets a cup of lightly steaming tea in front of Danny, but his eyes are fixed on Tim. “Master Timothy,” he says, disapprovingly, and Danny knows it’s bad since that’s the first time he’s heard Alfred full name Tim..

Tim wilts where he sits. “I know, Alfred. I’ll get more sleep on the weekend, promise.”

Bruce clears his throat, cutting off the conversation about Tim’s unhealthy sleep habits. Danny flinches again, his tea spilling over the side of the cup just slightly.

When did Bruce appear behind him? Danny didn’t hear him at all, had no idea he was there until he let his presence be known.

The last time someone snuck up on him like that—

Well, it’s best not to think about his parents. Nothing good will come of it.

“Danny,” he says, moving around to be in Danny’s line of sight instead of standing behind him. “We’ve gotten your paperwork sorted out. Would you like to check over them in my study or here?”

“Here,” Danny answers immediately. Bruce’s study felt too… formal. There’s too much pressure put on him in there and he feels more out of place there than anywhere else in the manor. The kitchen, in comparison, is safer. Warmer. More casual and familiar.

“Alright. Tim, would you mind running up to grab everything?”

Tim gives Bruce a lazy salute, hopping off the bar stool and leaving the kitchen without another word. Bruce sits beside Danny in the newly unoccupied stool, moving carefully so he never gets into Danny’s space.

He’s very considerate and far too observant. With how quiet and sneaky the entire family is, Danny isn’t sure if it’s a good sign or proof of something that will hurt him later on.

He sips on his tea to avoid looking at or talking to Bruce. Alfred returns to washing the rest of the dishes and Danny focuses on that, listening to the running water and the sound of dishes clinking against each other.

It feels like barely a few minutes before Tim returns, somehow crossing the distance between the kitchen and Bruce’s study on the second floor quickly without being out of breath. In his hands is a black folder, which apparently holds Danny’s new life.

“You stole my seat,” he says as he drops the folder onto the counter.

“It was open.”

“I was sitting there.”

Bruce shrugs, the small quirk of his lips the only thing revealing his amusement. “Not anymore.”

Tim glares at him, then leans against the counter, sprawling into Bruce’s space. He’s practically lying on top of the counter, shoving Bruce’s arms out of the way to make himself comfortable. “Look those over,” Tim says, tapping the folder.

“We’ll fix anything you want changed,” Bruce adds when Danny makes no move to grab it. He even helpfully moves it closer to Danny.

Slowly, Danny opens it. Papers fill both sides and he can see some square lumps hidden in the pockets. He carefully pulls those out first, finding a credit card and a debit card, which. Holy shit. He’s going to freak out about that later; there’s still an entire folder left to shock him.

The first few papers are simple. Information about his new identity, under the name of Danny Jameson. Yes, it is his first name and a modified version of his middle name. No, it’s not a very good fake name but Danny was stressed and tired and didn’t want to think about it for too long. Now it’s his name and he’ll have to live with it, so it’s a good thing he’s already familiar with it.

The next few papers hold his social security information, health insurance, the works. All of it means nothing to him, but he appreciates the effort they put into this!

He’s a little concerned about how quickly they got so much done, but he appreciates it!

The words blur together as he flips through the pages. The only thing that he needs left is an ID and Tim wants to be the one taking his picture, so he’ll just wait until Tim brings it up.

“It all looks good,” Danny says, trying to hide as much of his confusion as possible.”

“We can always change it later,” Bruce reassures. “Now, why don’t you take a look at that last document, stating you job position and salary?”

He helpfully pulls it out of the folder where it had been stuck to the back of another paper, making Danny miss it completely.

It doesn’t have as much written on it as the other documents. Words only fill half the paper and everything is in short phrases or bullet points, contained in little boxes to make finding information easier.

His official title is Apprentice (Butler). There are no formal work hours as he’s on call and the small description of his duties reads: Attend to the manor and its inhabitants while learning the ways of a butler. Apparently, he has unlimited sick leave and vacation is negotiated with a month guaranteed.

All this sounds pretty good up until he sees what his salary is. The fact that he would be getting that much monthly…

“Mr. Wayne,” Danny says, very calmly.

“Please, just call me Bruce!” he says with a grin.

“Mr. Wayne,” Danny stresses, “Remove some of these zeroes or I am leaving Gotham to find work somewhere else.”

Tim leans over to get a look, then turns to Bruce with a raised eyebrow.

Bruce is unrepentant. “I will remove one zero but I will move your planned pay raise forward by half a year. And I’ve already put one month’s pay into your bank account so you can buy what you need when Dick takes you shopping later.”

“A pay raise?! Actually, hold on, since when am I going shopping?”

“Since… now? You need clothes. And whatever else you want to buy. It’s your money now.”

Danny turns to Tim. “Help.”

“This is actually the best you’ll get,” Tim says unhelpfully, “The fact that he actually agreed to take off a zero means he really doesn’t want to scare you away.”

“I would be quite cross if he did,” Alfred interjects. “Do drink your tea, Danny.”

Danny knocks back the rest of his tea and says, “I understand you are slightly out of touch with reality as all rich people are, but this is ridiculous. I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“You saved Alfred.” All of a sudden, Bruce’s voice is serious. There’s an intensity about him that was hidden before, something that screams both danger and protection. Something almost more than human. “You saved Alfred. You don’t need to do a single thing here and I would still give all this to you.”

“But…” Danny trails off, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. “I just wanted to help.”

“So allow us to help you, now, Danny.” Alfred takes his cup out of his hands and sets it on the counter. He places his hands on Danny’s shoulders, holding him steady, and says, “We know you are in a difficult situation and have no one else to turn to. We know you are a good person who deserves to be safe and happy. Allow us to help you as much as we can.”

And what can he say to that?

Nothing, apparently, because he’s two seconds away from crying. He leans into Alfred’s hold and nods, just slightly, and tries to blink back his tears.

“Very good,” Alfred smiles. “I do think it’s time for you to go shopping. Take today to gather everything you need. I can begin teaching you what to do tomorrow.”

“Okay. And… thanks.” He can’t quite make eye contact with anyone, but Alfred pats his shoulder before moving away and Bruce ruffle his hair.

Tim straightens up, pushing himself off the counter, and rounds it to be by Danny’s side. “Let’s go bother Dick into getting ready to take you shopping.”

Danny stands, clumsily shuffling the papers into order and shoving them back into the folder. Bruce takes it before he can worry about what to do with it, and sends him off with Tim.

“Are you coming with us?” he asks as he’s lead up the staircase and down the hallways to the family wing.

“Huh?”

“Are you coming with us? When we go shopping?”

“Oh, no. I need to do some work today. Mostly just meetings, but I can’t skip out or Tam might actually kill me.”

“Tam?”

“My personal assistant,” Tim answers, like this is normal.

Danny starts to wonder if Tim really is close to him in age. It seems like it, but it also sounds like he has a legit job (with a personal assistant!) and is not in school. Did he already graduate college? Is he actually 30 years old and stuck with an insane babyface?

It feels rude to ask, so he doesn’t, but he can’t help but wonder.

“Okay,” he says. There’s really nothing else he can say.

“Don’t worry, though. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Dick is great! He’ll keep you safe.”

Safe from what, Tim doesn’t say, and Danny decides to just not question anything else during the day. It’s happening whether he understands it or not, so better to not worry about it. The key to being stress free is to not care and vibe. He can totally keep his cool. Not a problem at all.

How bad can one shopping trip be?

(“Are you planning on enrolling him in school, Master Bruce?”

Bruce sighs, running a hand through his hair. “If he agrees to it. I can’t ask anything yet, not until I find out more about where he was and who had him. I don’t want him out there on his own when someone could be looking for him.”

“He must have been held captive for quite a long time to be so unfamiliar with the world.”

“I’ve only seen this sort of thing with labs and cults. I’m not sure yet which one he came from, but neither are good.”

“Once you do find them,” Alfred says, rather calmly, though the steel in his eyes tells another story, “Do give them hell. If you do not, I shall.”

“I’m half tempted to set you loose on them,” Bruce jokes tiredly.

“I’ll keep my shotgun ready. Just say the word, Master Bruce. I will ensure no one touches another hair on Danny’s head.”

“We’ll all keep him safe, Alfred. And he’ll be here with us from now on, anyways.”

“So long as he doesn’t run off into the night to be a vigilante,” Alfred says, “Lord knows we’ve seen that happen too often.”

Bruce sighs. “Well. There’s hope for him yet. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be the normal one in the family.”

“I would certainly like that more than sending another child into danger,” Alfred agrees. He has never been able to stop this family before, but perhaps he will be able to save Danny from the dangers of their nightlife. Danny may be the only one he saves, in fact, but Alfred still has that chance.

He intends to make the most of it.)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #alfred's apprentice au #butler danny au #my writing #fic #i PROMISE next chapter will have actual butler danny. im fr done w set up now. except the shopping trip #its fine i'll figure it out i'll add anothr chapter #dont worry abt it i know what im doing

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