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midnightbears · 4 months ago

Note

Arranged marriage with Gyomei pls. Kagaya matched Gyomei with Y/N for some reason and Gyomei slowly falling in love with y/n 🥲🥲❤

✿ i love you, and i want to find out what that means together.

#STARRING: himejima gyomei ft. fem!reader

#TAGS: arranged marriage. gyomei is in his early twenties in this one! set before the main events of kny. some invented lore for the sake of the story please just bear it thanks

#NOTES: hello there! thank you for your request <3 tbh I've always had this specific idea stuck in my head and you just gave me a reason to write for it LMAO i actually went kind of crazy with this fic omg i loved to write it let me know if u would like a part two! hope you like it and hope it wasn't too much LMAOOo

your existence could be hashed over with one word.

purpose.

ever since you could remember, your entire life had been mapped out for you: what to eat, what to not eat, what to like, what to dislike, what to wear, your hobbies, your pastimes, your vocabulary—everything. apparently, every inane thing that had been shoved down your throat was only done to make you a dignified woman worthy of whichever lord they married you off to.

you and your family hailed from a long line of priests and priestesses, where the girls were raised to be proper wives and shrine maidens and the boys were carefully taught the profession in hopes of serving important figures throughout japan.

you were helping your mother tend to the flowers one day when a messenger from the ubuyashiki clan—a kakushi, as you heard they were called—appeared before your temple's door, asking your father to choose and provide the clan with one of his daughters.

you were picked immediately, and you had no choice but to stand before your father, trembling, and pretend that you agreed with his decision with a serene expression on your face. you could tell this was just his way of finally getting rid of you.

in the words of your father behind closed doors, if someone couldn't be bothered to have the decency to visit the temple in person and instead sent a mere messenger to request a carefully trained shrine maiden, it was clear they didn't deserve the best of what he could offer.

you smiled, agreeing with him.

when you went to pack what little things you had, nobody was in the shared quarters; at least you would spare yourself of your sisters' cruel remarks over your father's decision. you did not have many things of your own; you packed your hairbrush, a book, and what few things you held dear.

the kakushi was waiting outside when you emerged. trying to maintain a semblance of calm, you offered him a small smile. he looked at you with curiosity but did not say anything. kindly, he allowed you a moment for a brief prayer before the buddha statue at the front of the temple. then, you were off.

no one came to say goodbye to you.

it was alright, you supposed. the only person you could think fondly of was your mother, and a barbed wire of melancholy slowly wound around your heart at the thought of not being able to part ways properly. you knew that she preferred you over her other daughters, but even so, you were aware that she would never hear the end of it from your father if she came to say her farewells. you would write to her.

you were the third of six sisters, and always, one of them was more talented than you were, just a tad bit more attractive, just a tad bit more creative, just a tad bit more charming. sure, you were well-versed in the duties of a useful spouse—okay, all your sisters were as well. what good was that when you had nothing special about you? what was it your father called you? ah, yes, mediocre.

the kakushi did not speak to you for the entire trip, for which reason you did not know. a question hung on the tip of your tongue, although you dared not ask it. at some point, he urged you to wear a blindfold and climb on his back, which you simply accepted, knowing better than to ask.

you didn't make anything out during the journey, only listening to the sound of small pebbles vibrating against the ground as he made his way up a mountain. after what felt like hours, he finally put you down, gently tugging the blindfold off you and allowing your eyes to adjust to the bright light of morning.

once you were presentable, he escorted you toward the estate entrance. you could tell he was a bit off put by the way you were just accepting things, but he didn't say anything about it.

the kakushi stopped before the towering gate of the ubuyashiki mansion and offered you a deep bow. you thanked him, and you could see him smile with his eyes before he left. another kakushi, a woman this time, escorted you toward a graveled garden, a small figure sitting by the engawa.

she knelt on the ground and bowed her head, and you did the same until she picked herself from the ground.

looking forward, you met the gaze of a boy who looked to be around the age of fifteen, with kohl black hair that sat just above his shoulders. he had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen, so easy to look at, lavender tainting the irises. he had the calming smile of a buddha, and although knowing nothing about him beyond reputation, you felt at ease with him.

"i am kagaya. i trust your journey went smoothly? thank you for your patience, maiden. i apologize for not going to your temple in person, i hope your priest will forgive me. believe me, i wanted to, but i'm afraid my illness would not have allowed me to make the trip."

the boy's voice was unlike any other you had ever heard, fluid and gentle, causing a wave of reassurance to wash over you. you felt at ease immediately, as though something had just taken every burden off your shoulders and instead shrouded you in a cloud of repose.

"it was no trouble, oyakata-sama, truly." you followed this with a deep incline of your head, your own voice remaining serene and mellow, "it is an honor to be in your presence."

kagaya smiled. "your temple is of great renown. my clan has had the pleasure of counting with your priests and maidens across the centuries. there is no need for such formalities, child."

granted, you were sure you were older than him by a few years, but the way he called you 'child' was comforting, and you were not about to question him, simply keeping quiet.

"you are to marry one of my pillars, maiden. he is an honorable man, the lord of stone, i am sure the two of you will get along. he should arrive any moment now."

you willed yourself to say something, yet you simply could not. you were not the first maiden who was given to a lord for marriage, and you certainly wouldn't be the last. still, your heart did a flip at the simple notion of ending up in a similar situation as your mother, forced to produce offspring until your husband found you undesirable.

for a moment, a cold hand wrapped around your heart in fear of what that man would do with you. however, the single thought of the young boy before you lying about the pillar's honor revolted you. he was telling the truth, and if he said the stone pillar was a good man, then you had nothing to fear.

softly, the sound of footsteps reached your ears, and you turned slightly to see a towering figure approaching, his presence both imposing and serene all at once.

the man who stood before you was unlike any you had ever seen. large beyond comparison, clad in the dark robes of a uniform and a green haori. his stature was immense, with muscles that seemed chiseled from stone. he was young, with an impassive face, yet undeniably handsome. his eyes, clouded with a milky whiteness, told you that he could not see, yet he moved with a grace that belied his blindness.

"this is himejima gyomei, the stone pillar," kagaya introduced, "he has been chosen as your betrothed, and i trust that you will find solace and strength in his presence."

gyomei walked toward you, his movements slow and deliberate, his footsteps echoing throughout the garden—

your breath hitched as he knelt before you, reaching his hand out. but instead of what you expected, he pressed his palm against your cheek, his voice reverberating like a chiming bell inside a cathedral. he caressed your cheek as one would treat an injured butterfly.

"maiden beloved," he murmured, tears spilling from his eyes, "i apologize for making you wait."

the ceremony was that same day, quick and endearing.

you were married in front of oyakata-sama, his wife, and other members of the corps as witnesses. before you knew it, the wedding concluded, and your husband guided you to your new home with you by his side.

gyomei was not acting like he had been given you as some justly won right to do with as he pleased. that set your heart at ease, greatly so, and in some way, it was like he could tell, too. he was walking slowly, allowing you to keep up with his large strides. small talk filled the empty silence of the way home as he listed all the things you would assist him with.

you were to cook for him, clean the estate daily and take care of it when he was away, write letters for him and read them when he received any, and...

huh. that was it.

getting used to your routine was easier than anticipated as weeks passed, although you would be lying to yourself if you said that gyomei's patience and demeanor weren't helping you in the slightest.

he had insisted that you sleep in a separate bedroom within the estate, taking into account that despite being your husband, he was still a complete stranger to you. the very moment you reached your new home, he made sure to explicitly tell you that he did not wish to embarrass you or cause you discomfort in any way, shape, or form.

during mornings, you would naturally wake up at the crack of dawn, your training making things much easier. you would dress yourself in the robes gyomei had gifted you for your wedding and make your way to the kitchen to start a big meal for the day. you'd wake him up then, guiding him to the kitchen to share breakfast together.

most of the time, you ate in silence, although you did not mind at all. after that, you would wash dishes, and he trained. the estate was not that big, so having to sweep the floor or dust the shelves daily did not bother you, and you instead found comfort in the repetitive routine. you would finish quite swiftly and urge gyomei inside again for tea time during noon.

you tried to entertain yourself as best as possible during the afternoons and evenings. usually, you would find yourself tending to a small garden you'd created when you arrived. your husband would sometimes join you, captivated by the sweet smell of the flowers and the sensation of the earth beneath his fingertips. you would explain what the flowers looked like and how they were meant to be taken care of, and he, in turn, basked in your every word.

gardening duty was one of the things you enjoyed most back at the temple, and since no one else was willing to get their hands dirty, you were the maiden who would regularly take care of the flowers.

you bought flower seeds during your first trip to the market in the nearby town and took the time to introduce yourself to as many people as possible. the locals were very kind to you, and as you started frequenting the shops more and more, you were always being greeted by folks who wished you and your husband the best.

as months passed, your relationship with gyomei deepened in ways you had never expected. the initial tension and clumsiness of living with a stranger began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of familiarity and comfort.

gyomei, true to his word, respected your boundaries and gave you space to adjust at your own pace. however, small gestures of care and affection started to seep into your daily life. he would often leave freshly picked flowers from your garden by your bedroom door, their vibrant colors and sweet fragrance greeting you first thing in the morning. sometimes, he would assist you with household chores, his presence making the mundane tasks feel lighter and more enjoyable.

he began to pay attention to the little things, like how you offered wounded slayers who stumbled upon the estate a fresh meal and a place to redress their wounds, or how you fed the cats mingling around your shared home every single night, even noticing that you had taken the time to name them and remember everyone.

the town's people, too, played a part in your growing closeness. they would often remark on how harmonious you and gyomei seemed together, their kind words fortifying the bind that tied you together. you started to see the way gyomei interacted with them and how much respect the people had for him—and you couldn't help but admire him more each day.

your conversations, though initially skimpy and shallow, began to flow more naturally. gyomei's deep voice would rumble through stories of his past with the children of the orphanage, his experiences as a hashira, and the lessons he had learned along the way. you, in turn, shared snippets of your life at the temple, your family, your dreams, and your fears. it was through these conversations that you realized how much you had in common despite your different backgrounds.

anyone with a pair of working eyes would see it, or, at least, anyone who had known for at least once in their lifetime what a soul-stirring connection with another human felt like. you found comfort in his presence, seeking him out like a moth to a flame, and he, in yours, only wanted you to tend to his wounds after missions, fix his haori, or wait by himself outside just so he could pray by your side.

eventually, it got to a point where the separate bedrooms became less of a necessity and more of a formality. you often found yourself falling asleep together in the living room after long conversations or shared moments of silence. whenever you did manage to part ways, you always lingered by your door, a dreamy smile encasing your lips.

you could not deny yourself anymore. you were the happiest you had been in years.

one evening, as you both sat for dinner, the familiar quiet enveloping you like a warm blanket, gyomei's voice broke through the tranquility.

"i love you."

the bunch of food you were going to bring into your mouth splattered into the bowl again with a messy splash. oh. oh my god. you whipped your head toward your husband, who stared at you with a soft expression on his face.

"you do not have to say it back if you do not feel the same, but i wanted you to know." then, gyomei went back to chewing his food as if he had not said what he had just said.

"why?"

gyomei shifted his head in your direction with a worried expression, your teary tone and doddering heartbeat doing nothing to mitigate his apprehension. he tried to reach for you, but you jerked away from him. he could tell that whatever you were feeling was not directed toward him, but still, it pained him greatly to know you were suffering.

"g-gyomei, i—"

your hands were shaking, and he reached for them to trace your skin with the pads of his thumbs. he opened his mouth, but you beat him to it as you keeled over, shoulders trembling as sobs left your mouth, your usual calmness thrown out the window.

"y-you said that you wouldn't embarrass me! there is nothing special about me. what is it about me that you could possibly love? you're always so good to me," you were throwing word vomit at this point, and the worst part was you did not even know where it was coming from, "i haven't done anything to receive your affection! i'm just doing the things i'm supposed to do..."

tears slid down his cheeks before he could stop them, and he leaned forward to pull you into his embrace. your body completely froze, an unknown emotion taking over. gyomei had never initiated contact before. most of the time, you had to be the one to grab his hand or tug his collar.

"my little maiden... you have no idea how precious you are to me," gyomei murmured, his voice impossibly gentle and firm. he held you close, his large, comforting presence grounding you as your sobs began to subside. "you see yourself through the harsh lens of your own eyes, but i see the truth of your heart with my own. your unconditional kindness, your strength, your sincerity—these are just some of the reasons i love you."

his words seeped into your cold heart, slowly quieting the tempest inside. you couldn't understand how someone as incredible, kind, and powerful as gyomei could see such worth in you, but the sincerity in his voice and the warmth of his embrace made you want to believe him.

"you don't have to prove your worth to me or anyone," he continued, his voice alleviating your wounded spirit. "you are enough, just as you are. your presence in my life is a blessing, and i am grateful for you every single day."

"gyomei," you whispered, your voice trembling but no longer with fear. "i… i love you too. i was just scared. scared that i wasn't enough for you."

he smiled softly, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. "you are more than enough, my love. and i will spend the rest of all my lifetimes showing you just how much you mean to me."

#midnightbears #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny #gyomei himejima #gyomei x reader #himejima gyomei #gyomei himejima x reader #gyomei x y/n #himejima gyomei x reader #demon slayer gyomei #himejima x reader #kny gyomei

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thatdeadaquarius · 2 years ago

Note

sagau with the language barrier issue except... the creator is sick and tired of trying to ask for things so they do everything themself.

and it gives their followers mass anxiety bc they can't even ask what you're doing... bc they know they won't understand anything...

SUCH A GENIUS NARVI 10/10 GOOD WORK SORRY IM SUPER LATE BUT THIS IS *chefs kiss*

Like, that's literally how I feel like I first played Genshin LMAO

Also this has a cont. Part 2 at the bottom bc tumblr fucking hates me UPDATE I FIXED IT THANK FUCK

Paimon was like "and then we go to Mondstadt- ! NO, not Wolvendom, to Mondstadt! NOT THE THOUSAND WIND TEMPLE WITH ENEMIES OUT OF UR LEAGUE, ENTER MONDSTADT FOR THE FIRST TIME BEFORE U EXPLORE THE REST OF THE MAP!! >:("

SO MANY IDEAS YET SO LITTLE WRITING SKILL GUYS HELP-

Also warning this is ROUGH in terms of spelling and editing and im so sorry abt that! I have my art show today so you're welcome to come back if you want to see it a little more readable tomorrow lmao

Edit Update 4/6/23:

Revised and fixed all the bad spelling and grammar (hopefully) so make sure to give another read if you havent read the cleaned up version lol

I dont have a beta reader so its just me trying my best ok-

Everything was like kinda chaos tbh at first

WOW- MY FIRST 1,000+ NOTES POST??!?! U GUYS, WHAT ARE R YOU DOIN??!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!! IM GLAD U GUYS ENJOYED IT SM!! Also look out for more encoded stuff in the future since i mentioned wanting to continue stuff like this + ARG stuff :) <3

Edit 9/7/23: 2,000+ NOTES?? THANK YOU???

Like u wake up under the Irminsul, and u think ur hallucinating a goddamn gacha game for like a solid 5 minutes, or ur lucid dreaming,

but once u actually took what felt like hours to process that u might actually be in fucking Genshin Impact-

Nahida came running from, somewhere?? Its kinda just very floaty dreamy in here so, unclear, she’s beaming with a giddy little smile (💘)

It’s… so much more than what her game model could manage.

I mean, you knew that, of course you did, but- to see the tiny goddess smiling in person, her cute chubby arms waving in the air, her cheeks all plump with baby fat from her excited smile, pretty green eyes that sparkle only in the way excited toddlers do-

It was just…wow. 🥺

You can’t help it, her sheer carefree excitement, exactly like a child but you know that she must be really overwhelmed with joy if shes letting herself act like that so blatantly, you feel ur muscles tug gently into a smile, you try to muffle it but ur happiness leaks out anyway

She's panting as she stumbles on short chubby legs to reach you.

After just staring at you with those big green clover eyes for a few seconds, she physically shakes her head to knock herself out of it,

Nahida places her hand over her heart, and bows elegantly, going back to looking at you with a small but bright smile, her voice is kind of quiet, muffled in a soft way, much like her game depiction,

“Hzozn! R'ev yvvm dzrgrmt gl nvvg blf! R wrwm'g gsrmp blf dlfow wvhxvmw fmgro R dzh zg ovzhg z uvd gslfhzmw bvzih low!” *

…Nahida begins to look a little concerned… her eyes get impossibly bigger.

…Oh no.

♧

Nahida had apparently quickly spread the news that you can’t understand them, but luckily it seems like all the characters still know you!

Alhaitham is pretty much a constant by your side, you knew he was vaguely studying linguistics in the akademiya… but that knowledge still didn’t prepare you to be intensely stared at with his diamond pupils for hours. 💀

Then he’d tap your shoulder or something, and you quickly picked up that he wanted you to just try and say something.

Then he would scribble for hours.

Turns out they can understand you about as much as you understand Teyvat language (s? You can’t even tell if there are multiple languages, that’s how unrecognizable this language is, damn)

The more extroverted or friendly people, like Venti, Yoimiya, Kazuha, Jean, Noelle, Amber, Xingqiu, Hu Tao, Zhongli, Ganyu, Barbara, Beidou, Collei, Ayaka, Gorou, Nilou

At least attempt to talk to you, and try very hard to watch what you gesture with your hands or body language

They're pretty much ready to play charades at all times for you lol

Interestingly enough, they only ever understood you when you typed in the chat (with other ppl)

But even then not immediately,

Sumeru scholars basically had to make a whole new department (regardless of how much you play with others) to decipher your ancient language (to them) like those old clay tablets with cuneiform we’re still translating?

Like that, your words appear in elemental magic heavy places (so like that abyss lang. It’ll appear on walls or structures, so like Andrius’ stone colosseum? in Wolvendom gained some of your chat replies inscribed and glowing a rainbow of colors on the top edges of the walls)

Much like the abyss language you see throughout genshin, most Teyvat scholars (across nations/internationally) agreed your language is the oldest form of language known!

It’s like modern languages having roots in older ones, like English with Latin, greek, or German roots, or Sanskrit and the Prakrit for Hindi language today

…so of course no one really speaks the root languages anymore, because they’re so old, so those ancestors who spoke those languages would have little to no understanding of their modern counterparts…

◇

Occasionally if you turned your mic on for whatever reason there would be a gentle whisper on the winds in Mondstadt of your voice,

or your laugh in the waves washing ashore in Inazuma and Fontaine,

your startled noises or screams from battling bosses mixed with the landslides in the mountains of Liyue

So they know what you sound like, but that doesn’t mean they understood your language :/

Nahida had been hoping that you’re actual physical form being here would help improve the language barrier

But unfortunately, those things remained the same, but at least you were physically here to talk to now and give more content for the scholars to study rather than them having to make do with your snippets of language from chats

…so needless to say, it took you a long time to realize they viewed you as a god of sorts.

You kind of knew something was up when at least two allogenes were by your sides at all times, or eremites would replace them if they really couldn’t stick around

You figured they knew you weren’t nearly as combatant-ready as they were at all times, hell you obviously didn’t have a vision hanging off you somewhere, and you only really had a knife strapped to a belt, courtesy of the Thirty Corps

You are still kind of convinced that the people of Teyvat, or Sumeru at least, are just pretty polite (and in the allogenes case, very kind or friendly, even people like Alhaitham or Cyno, resting bitch faces they have, seem to soften a little when they’re walking around with you… maybe you’re just imagining it…)

And as much as you would love to wait until they understand you to do something more fun, as you can see the frustration on Tighnari’s face (and his ears try to flatten back hehe) as he looked like he was debating heatedly with some of the Sumeru sages who insist you stay in the city

…so why not go?

It’s not like they’re going to get it anytime soon, and it’s still too frustrating for yourself to charade things or draw things for them because you can’t even hear their guesses 💀

You can totally handle being like the traveler too,

You still have access to your inventory afterall! Plus, lucky for you, you still find a pass for the Serenitea Pot in your little pocket dimension!

So now you have somewhere to sleep at night, and while most of your stuff went to the traveler’s pack, the things like Primogems

(which.. Okay now you really want primogems bc theyre so pretty and shiny irl)✨️

And other high-level things, or just objects of no use for the traveler (so basically all your hoarded level up stuff and infinite amount of weapons lol) came along with you

So you did have to wander the first week or so around the city and even commission the Adventurer’s Guild to grab you food supplies to cook with

Filling up, along with a few big waterskins, you’re off!

...and everyone collectively has a heart attack!

◇

When you show up in Ghandaraville essentially all “✨️💖☺️✨️” on Tighnari’s doorstep-

He chokes on the tea he’d been sipping on before he opened the door lol

He looks a little frazzled so you try to just gesture with “calm yourself small animal” energy with your hands

“Tivzgvhg Oliw! R'n- R- sld wrw blf-?! Mvevinrmw, xlnv rm, xlnv rm, ivhg! ...R mvvw gl hvmw z nroorlm ovggvih mld gl ylgs gsv vmgriv xrgb lu Hfnvif, gsv Zxgrmt Tizmw Hztv, zmw gsv Nzgiz nlhg orpvob…” he began out looking at you and talking and gesturing to his small dining table (the game sucks, his house looks great and has lots of cool rooms filled with interesting plants… oooo…so pretty...)

But then he kinda just devolved into rambling, no need to understand, you can read the vibes and just know that's what he's doing lol

Collei eventually ducks in, and she looks a little panicked?

She’s quickly followed by Cyno, pushing past her to call out into the house,

His voice seems hard and stressed, looking at Tighnari, “Grtsmzir, szev blf hvvm gsv Tivzgvhg Oliw zmbdsviv, gsvb dviv hvvm xlnrmt gl Tszmwziezeroov ozhg-”

Cyno stops and blinks.

Collei’s mouth is slightly dropped open, she also just, blinks.

You blink.

Tighnari blinks tiredly, he looks like he’d rather be done for the day, you think.

The doctor sighs, and moves his head to nod towards the other dining seats.

◇

Sumeru foods are so much better looking in real life, and they’re so good too, your practically bloated by the end of dinner,

As a thank you, bc u cant say it obv, you just gesture for Tighnari to stay sitting, and he gives you a raised eyebrow and a suspicious ear twitch

But stays still, and you reach out to finally hit the eight-pointed star hovering over his, and all playable characters chests at all times.

Like you suspected, it brings up a holographic character menu, but rather than his full model, it kind of hovers in front of Tighnari’s face, replacing his old 3D model self with framing the real thing for a portrait just in front of his face

The poor Denro user nearly jumps a foot out of his chair as he looks in shock at your screen, you do the same “chillll boy” gesture with your hands and press his shoulders for a second to remind him to not run off or panic

Cyno and Collei had done the dishes and put up leftovers, and are now standing behind Tighnari, watching with equally wide eyes,

“...Dszg ziv gsvb wlrmt gl blf?

Cyno’s voice is even deeper and quieter than usual, you feel goosebumps run up your spine

“Ziv blf tvggrmt yovhhvw, Nzhgvi Grtsmzir?!” Collei’s sweet voice is also hushed like she’s witnessing something sacred, Tighnari gently shakes his head negatively in response, his shoulders shrugging,

“Nzbyv? R uvvo... z orggov hgilmtvi, zmw nb Erhrlm rh zxgrmt fk zh dvoo…”

Though he’s replying, Tighnari’s eyes haven’t once left your ancient magic? technology device? hovering in front of him,

and as he crosses his arms and squints to try and look closer at everything floating in front of him, you can see the childlike gleam of awe in his green eyes, (so cute) in fact, now that you glance up and look, both Collei and Cyno have the same quietly excited and fascinated sparkle in their eyes too

With a displeased sneer, you chuck his old level one bow into the material grinding spots, hope he wasn’t attached to that…

Oh well, he’ll like the new one better, afterall, with no characters, all your best weapons and artifacts are ready to use!

With a small smile of reassurance, you finally finish gearing Tighnari up, tap a miniature version of that 8-point star in the corner like an “X” button, and it retreats like a classic TV set📺 turning off into his chest, he startles but then carefully stands

You decide to just start making decisions bc its worked out so far ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And grab his hand and haul him out into the forest, Collei letting out a surprised squeak, her and Cyno hurrying after

You reach the nearest clearing, and gesture at Tighnari like a bow and arrow firing, he gets it, and your glad he already trusts you, because he doesn’t take long to summon his bow

He takes aim at a smaller tree about two cars length away

You can feel them all holding their breathe, as Tighnari charges it with Dendro, the arrowhead glowing, (it looks so cool and badass irl god you feel envious even tho ur already here-)

The ranger lets it fly, it streaks neon green, whistling through the air, it hits the tree-

and it fucking explodes.

Vines and leaves and the trees roots all rapidly swell like theyre filled with water, like it literally got hit by a superhero with plant powers, which, not that far off actually.

The green floating Dendro seeds make a ring around the tree its so full of elemental energy-

You give a wild grin, you still got it, hell yeah. >:)

Your grin widens as you look over at Tighnari, Collei, and Cyno

Cyno has a smirk lighting up his face, eyes eager, Collei’s jaw has dropped and she’s just frozen staring as the tree finally settles from the burst of the dendro powered arrow

…Tighnari has lowered his bow, and his mouth is only slightly open, his ears perked straight up into the air, shaking with excitement? Happiness? Interest? You don’t know how peopl-animal-hybrid ears work,

and you STILL cant talk to any of them to ask what they thought, so looks will have to do >:/

Tighnari is the first to move, his head snapping over to look at you, the brightest, kinda feral tbh, smile taking over his face-

“Blf pmld, dv xzm'g fmwvihgzmw blf, zmw blf fh, bvg R xzm'g dzrg gl hvv dszg rm gsv dliow blf'iv tlrmt gl wl mvcg. Blf'iv znzarmt."

… and you just 🙂? Cool!

And give a thumbs up👍LMAO

☆

Bonus:

Alhaitham was literally running around Sumeru City trying to find you when you left, tho you did try and leave a translatable-in-3-to-5-business days-note, he didn’t have time to translate that because you were gone.

Or worse, lost in the city, and he would never forgive himself if he lost you, esp as Acting Grand Sage-

Kaveh got a letter a day and a half later from Tighnari letting them know you were having a sleepover in Ghandarvaville lol

Kaveh also had to hunt down Alhaitham to give him said news, then force his roommate to go sit or lay down for the rest of the day to recover lmao

(Haitham honestly kinda freaked Kaveh out bc he’s never seen him that... desperate, it was like seeing a statue emote lol)

♡

ARE YOU KIDDING WE ALMOST HIT LIMIT AGAIN?!

Bro has anyone else had this problem???

I literally had to switch from PC to mobile and copy and paste it there to get all my shit in and tumblr not throw a hissy fit???!!!

FUCKING TUMBLR- SUCK MY BIG FAT- 👹👹 UGH

ANYWAYYYY SO I FINALLY CAVED

And started doing ciphers for when you dont get teyvat’s language! I meant to do something fun like this for awhile but I wasn’t sure if that would be kind of annoying, but if you’re interested in learning what they actually say (which the whole point of this is that dw it doesnt rlly matter lol) here’s a hint:

*hint = Atbash

:> good luck!

Wish me luck on my art exhibition today!! Then I’ll be homefreeeee 😭

Safe Travels,

💀♒

♡ the beloveds ♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist

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haetrack · 7 months ago

Note

jaemin knowing how much of a lil virgin lewser his bestie haechan is so he, being the bestest friend on the entire planet 🤓☝🏼, decides to let haech fuck his gf. but what he didn’t know was how much of a secret FREAK haech was . 😈😈😈😈😈

- ☀️ (im still crying bcz of my last ask pls it was w bfs cousin perv!haechan 🙁😢)

a/n: this turned out to be way longer than a hard hour… let’s just pretend it still is one… i had too much fun writing it thank u for letting me write this…

warnings: fem!reader, consented cuckolding, virginity loss, unprotected sex, premature ejaculation, exhibitionism and voyeurism, haechan isn’t too good of a friend in this, pervert haechan (LOL), not proofread i’ll do it soon

it’s not like you’re unaware of how much jaemin’s best friend stares at you.

he does it openly, any chance he gets to see you when he hangs out with jaemin. you would think that your boyfriend would tell him to stop, set some clear boundaries for haechan. but he doesn’t. you even catch jaemin smiling at how hard haechan stares at you.

which is why you aren’t too surprised when jaemin proposes you an idea. he wants to watch haechan fuck you.

he says it with no hesitance in his voice. he’s so sure about his words, showing you an innocent smile as if his words don’t hold any meaning. you thought jaemin could be a little jealous at times, but apparently not when it comes to his friend.

“babe, you don’t get it. he talks about wanting to get his dick wet probably too much.”

“and your solution to that is having me fuck him? and you watching?”

he presses a small kiss to your cheek, “i just think it would be nice knowing that i make you feel better than any other man could.”

you roll your eyes, pretending not to be too excited when you agree to him. you ask how it’s going to happen, but he tells you not to worry, he’ll get it all sorted out.

which leads you to today, seated on jaemin’s bed with haechan in front of you. he still has his heavy stare over you, eyes glazing over at the sight of you in just a t-shirt and panties.

his hands grip his thighs, trying to fight back a smile at the thought of getting to fuck you. he won’t ever admit it to you, but he’s gotten off to the thought of you way too many times to count. you could probably figure it out either way, he’s not that ashamed.

you assume since he’s a virgin, he probably doesn’t know how to start this. you move to settle in his lap, eying jaemin who’s sat on the other end of the bed. he smiles at your forwardness, his hands moving to cross over his stomach.

haechan doesn’t like how you’re already not looking at him, whining lightly to get your attention. you want to laugh at the sound, but before you can he presses his lips messily against yours. you can feel how desperate he is, trying to keep up with him.

he’s quick to lick into your mouth, letting him take what he wants. you’re brought out of your haze when you feel his hands move all over your body while he whimpers into your mouth. his hands seem to stay at your chest, groping around.

he can feel you’re not wearing a bra, and he lets out a moan, not caring how embarrassing he sounds. none of it matters when you’re right in front of him. it’s even better that your boyfriend is sitting off to the side, haechan can pretend he isn’t there.

he feels different than how jaemin touches you. haechan’s hands are rough against your skin, his mouth molding against yours with no patience. jaemin likes to take his time, thinking only about you as he touches you.

haechan is only thinking about himself and how good he can feel. you smile to yourself knowing that you’re the one making him feel that way.

suddenly, haechan pushes you down on the bed. he cages you in, still kissing you as his hands trail under your shirt. you can feel them shaking against you as they move higher.

he pulls away from you, his eyes blown out and lips swollen as he pulls up your shirt, revealing your boobs to him. he practically moans at the sight, face immediately falling to your chest to suck and pinch at your nipples.

your hands thread in his hair, throwing your head back as you make eye contact with jaemin. he’s palming himself through his sweats, eyebrows furrowed.

sending a smile your way, jaemin speaks, “angel, is he making you feel good?”

“y-yes, jaemin-”

haechan cuts you off, “tell me how good i’m making you feel.”

you moan, “making me feel so good, want you to keep touching me!”

you can feel him smirking against your skin. he continues to play with your chest, feeling him grind into your thigh. he’s getting off from just licking at your chest.

haechan has only had the chance to look at your chest from afar, wondering just how your boobs would feel in his hands. he’s trying to memorize it all for when he gets off to you in the future.

he begins to pepper kisses down your abdomen, to your stomach, and the skin above your panties. he parts your thighs, just enough for him to nuzzle his nose against the seat of your panties.

you move to look down at him, the sight almost too lewd for you to look at. his eyes flutter close, watching him inhale your scent. you wonder just how much he’s thought about doing this- doing this with you.

you almost forget jaemin is there with you two before hearing him shuffle around in bed. you look, watching how he takes off his sweats, his hard cock in his hand.

you almost want to reach out and wrap a fist around his length, helping out your boyfriend. but it’s all thrown out the window when haechan pulls down your panties, eyes widening at the sight of you bare and wet for him.

“such a pretty pussy…” he says mostly to himself. he lets his fingers run along your folds, his breath hitching with just how warm and wet you are. he doesn’t really know what else to do, but he knows he could sit here and toy with you all day.

you sit up a little, sending jaemin one look before turning to haechan. you grab one of his hands, putting two of his fingers at your entrance.

there’s a wry smile at your face when you look up at him, “just- just like this. want you to stretch me out a little.”

he nods, not saying a word as he slowly plunges his fingers inside of you. you’re so warm and tight, he’s not sure how he’s supposed to last once he’s inside you. does jaemin even fuck you like you need him to?

he can feel himself twitching in his shorts as he fingers you. it’s all too much for him to take in, watching you squirm under him as you let out pretty noises just for him to hear. they’re not for jaemin, they’re only for him.

he watches as your hips begin to roll against his fingers, feeling your walls begin to clench around his fingers. he moves a little faster, fingers curling up inside you like how he reads he’s supposed to do.

you let out a loud whimper, your hand moving to wrap around his wrist, stopping his movements. he looks up at you, shock written on his face.

you practically yell out, “want you in me already, wanna be filled up by your cock, haechan!”

his mind reels with the way you moan his name, sounding better than any porn he’s watched. “yeah, y-you want me to fill your pussy up? wanna be filled up by my cum?”

you quickly nod, clawing at his shorts, begging for him to do something already.

haechan finally addresses jaemin for the first time since this has started, “you’ll let me cum in her, right?”

jaemin’s eyebrows furrow a little, his fist stopping its movements on his length. he doesn’t really have a say in it. “i mean… if she agrees…”

haechan taps your cheek to gain your attention, his fingers still distracting you, “pretty girl wants me to cum in her, don’t you?”

“y-yes! please jaemin, need him to cum in me!”

jaemin bites down on his tongue, trying not to think about it too hard. he nods, “yeah, you can go ahead.”

haechan is quick to pull down his shorts, not even taking them off completely, too impatient and horny to care. not when you’re waiting for him, waiting for him to fuck you.

you watch as his hand wraps quickly around his cock. he’s a lot thicker than jaemin, your thighs squeezing together at the thought of how he might feel inside you.

he jerks himself off a few times before he lines himself up at your entrance. he bites down on his lip, realizing it’s you who he’s losing his virginity to. he looks to see you staring at him with a dazed look, and he can feel his heart pound in his chest.

he rubs his tip against your folds, watching you arch your back once he realizes he rubs at your clit. he remembers it for next time (because there will be a next time) as his tries not to moan out at the feeling.

he moves back down to your waiting hole, slowly pushing himself in. it’s nothing he could’ve prepared himself for, you’re practically sucking him in. his hips stutter against yours once he bottoms out, eyes fluttering shut and cheeks turning red.

his arms give out, choosing to let himself cage you in, his head falling to your shoulder. you can hear him clearly now, every single whimper and moan of your name. he hasn’t started moving yet, but you can feel him twitch inside of you.

he’s shaking again, his hips trying to push himself deep inside of you. he can’t believe that you’re not his, that he can’t do this every single day with you.

he can feel you move a hand between the two of you, reaching to rub at your clit. you throw your head back to moan, clenching around him. it’s too much, and his hips buck into you.

he can hear jaemin’s words cut into the air, “haechan, you need to touch her.”

he pays no attention to jaemin’s words, choosing on his own to grope at your boob, pinching at your nipple. it sends shocks down your spine, clenching once more around him, letting out a whimper of his name.

he realizes then he isn’t going to last long. he tries moving, thrusts uncoordinated and sloppy with how close he is. he presses kisses against your skin, licking at the junction of your neck.

he moves to whisper in your ear, quiet enough just for the two of you, “you’re gonna let me cum in you, right, angel? gonna show your boyfriend that you’re mine?”

to his surprise, you nod, hands moving to his back to claw at his skin. at the stinging feel of your nails digging into his skin, his hips begin to fuck into yours, both of your loud moans filling the air.

if you listen hard enough, you can hear the squelch of jaemin fucking his fist. you mentally thank him for letting this happen, for letting you be able to fuck his best friend.

it’s sudden when haechan cums in you, a loud moan of your name slipping out of him before he messily kisses you again, his cum shooting into you. he doesn’t stop moving, his cum beginning to spill out of you, onto the sheets.

he sounds like he’s crying, hiccuping as he whines into your ear, “love fucking your pussy, it was made for me, made for me to fill up.”

you nod at his words, rolling your hips as you try to cum. he pulls away before you can, not knowing if he was teasing you on purpose or not. you can see him staring at your ruined cunt, leaking with all of him cum.

he catches his breath, hearing you whine out to him to continue. he looks at jaemin, watching as he sends a raised eyebrow at him, wondering just how far haechan might take this.

“you didn’t get to cum right?” haechan ignores jaemin, putting all of his focus back to you. through your bleary eyes, you can see haechan send jaemin a smirk.

you can feel haechan begin to grind his spent cock into you, “this can’t end until i make her cum, until she wants to finish.”

#asks #☀️ anon #haechan smut #nct smut #haechan scenarios #haechan x reader

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bb-eilish · 1 year ago

Text

Dirty little fantasies

pairing; master!anakin skywalker x fem!padawanreader

warnings; Fantasies, pinning, corruption kink, virgin reader, dom! anakin, sub! reader, nipple play, creampie, hand kink, dirty talk, praising, degradation, cunnilingus

a/n; i’ve never written for anakin before but i love star wars and i love writing smut so here u go!

Y/n was honestly surprised she ever became a Jedi apprentice. She was much older than the younglings, but Obi-wan and his own apprentice, Anakin, pushed for her training anyway. The council questioned who would be training her, as all of the masters already had Padawan of their own. Her hopes shattered when Master Yoda pointed out the obvious fact.

She was told the force was strong within her , not sure what that meant, y/n smiled and became excited anyway.

"Master, my Padawan is surely ready for his test. He has my full confidence. He will be able to train her." Obi-wan stepped forward, eyebrows furrowed as Anakin nodded, a serious expression scorched onto his face.

The council all had similar curious and questioning looks, but nodded anyways. "Alright, we will allow it." Master Windu sighed, putting his hand up. Y/n's eyes widened and every fiber in her being felt on fire, this is the most exciting thing she's ever experienced, and it hasn't even started yet.

The three of them exited the room and immediately a hurl of thank you's and smiles gush out of her towards the men. Their faces softened as they smiled.

—————

Y/n was now an adult, though, she wasn't very young when she became an apprentice, only several years had passed. Anakin was a great Master and she felt very lucky. The way everyone talked about him was fascinating, they praised him left, right, and center. They even became closer than she expected, being closer in age than other Padawan and Master pairs made that entirely possible.

"Master, wait up. Why are your legs so long." Y/n complained as she jogged up to Anakin's side once more, she swears he can take two steps and be a mile ahead of her. He chuckles before saying, "You ask that every time we walk together." Her nose scrunches at his teasing. But at the same time, her heart skips a beat and she swallows quietly. Though, she tries her hardest to keep down the way her body practically yearns for him. The hardest part is keeping the thoughts, the oh so delicious thoughts about him, to a 0 whenever he's near. The force is amazing in so many ways but a real pain in the ass when all she wants do is day dream about him.

"Great job by the way, the mission wouldn't have gone as well as it did without you. You're becoming a considerable Jedi." He looks over at her as she thanked him. He can't help but think about how much she's grown while being under his wing. In power and physically. Anakin was no liar, he couldn't possibly deny the fact she has matured into a fully fledged woman, Padawan or not, he couldn't keep his eyes to himself. He had to push down the thoughts as well.

Anakin was fully aware of her daily thoughts. It made his day whenever he could know what she was thinking before she even entered the room. They were always innocent and random, until recently. Y/n clouded her thoughts much more, and at random times of the day and night, the hairs on the back of his neck would stand up, goosebumps would frost his skin and he had no idea why. The thoughts he could read were innocent in nature, but all about him. What he was wearing that day, how he decided to style his hair, certain things he said to her. His ego inflated each time and it made him even more arrogant and confident.

But alas, Jedi's were not allowed to become attached. He wondered if he needed to remind her of that, but he decided against it. Having a crush on him wasn't a crime.

—————

Anakin waited for her at her door that morning, he always does when they train at this time, which is only a few times a week. As he neared the door her thoughts became more apparent, at first she was busy with brushing her hair, then it was her tying her robes, and then they drifted off to him. He could see she was thinking about the time he had to help her untie the small knot she made in her robes. It made him smile, it was almost impossible to untie it. But his smile slowly faded as he realized her attention, unwavering, was directed to his hand. Not him untying the knot in general per say, but the way his calloused hand and metal one gripped the fabric, and how his very visible veins bulged through his skin.

He could sense how hard she focused on it, and how the thought of his hands sent her spiraling into day dreams. He was about to knock to end his spying before something caught him off guard. The waves of want that echoed from her, he could feel the stuttered deep breath she let out as she thought about his hands on her. How they would feel to prod at her most sensitive areas as he spoke downright sinful words towards her.

He felt like the air was knocked from his lungs as she thought in detail about the things he would say. The hair at the back of his neck reacted first, the goosebumps came second. "You're my prettiest girl , aren't you?" "Such a slut for me." "Use your words, angel." "You're mine, only I can make you feel like this." Anakin roughly shook his head before he breathed in and knocked on her door.

The thoughts ceased and his shoulders untensed because of it.

Y/n's door opened and there she was, smile as bright as ever as she greeted him. "Good morning, Master. A bit late aren't you?" She questioned, closing the door behind her with a wave of her hand.

He mustered up a smile as well as he answered, "Apologies, I was talking with Master Yoda." He patted himself on the back for not being suspicious as he lied through his teeth.

—————

Training was different today. No doubt it was about what he had walked in on this morning, but he tried his best to act like something wasn't bothering him.

Sparring was especially different, he was acutely aware of whenever he even placed a finger on her. She didn't seem affected at this but he knew. He knew the things she wanted him to say to her, say to her when his hands memorized her body, set her skin ablaze in their wake. It had a carnal desire simmering in his gut as he gazed at her sweaty form pant from the work she was being put through. So when training ended he made his way to the bathroom. Splashing cold water on his face helped the heat on his skin, but not the heat starting to grow in him.

Anakin fell pray to his desires, now instead of her imagining what it would be like to be underneath him, it was him imagining what it would be like to be on top of her. Looking down to see the look in her eyes as he touched her, made her his. The sounds she'd make as he stuffed her full. The mere thought had his pants tighten significantly. Would she cry as he stretched her out? Would she beg him to keep going? Better yet, would she submit herself to him, his mercy?

He manages, somehow, to collect himself before he leaves.

"There you are, Anakin. There is a last minute mission I need you and Y/n to do" Obi-wan told him as he lead him to the holotable. "Do not let him out of your sight, we suspect he's behind Senator Amidala's assassination attempts. He knows what you both look like though, so make sure he doesn't notice you." He explained further, Anakin nodded, going into serious Jedi-Master mode.

"I won't fail you, Master."

—————

After Anakin explained the plan to her she nodded along and followed his lead to his speeder.

"He lives in-" He pauses as he points to the apartment building they both come up to. "That building, there is two doors leading out, one in the back and one in the front. I'll take the one behind it." He parks the speeder where he could get in it quickly, but isn't suspicious. "We're close enough to speak through the force, so if something happens let me know immediately."

"Yes, Master."

He nods at her before speedily walking to the other side of the small apartment building. She pulls up the hood of her robe and tries to look the least inconspicuous as she possibly can.

—————

It's been radio silence for a few hours before the front door opens to the exact alien they're here for. She quickly lets Anakin know.

She watches the alien closely, walking behind him at a distance he wouldn't find strange.

Anakin catches up to her, both the Jedis watch the supposed assassinator from afar enter a bar. "I hate bars." She groans as he drags the Padawan inside the building.

"Uh, Master. Won't our hoods be kind of out of place in here?" Y/n points out, noticing the lack of clothes everyone is wearing.

"Oh, yes. Clever thinking, Y/n." He says, narrowing his eyes in search for the alien.

They both take a seat at one of the tables, eyeing the place until Anakin spots the alien, he's at the bar, downing what seems to be his 3rd shot. He stumbles a bit trying to get off of his chair. Both Jedi watch him go down the hallway that has the bathrooms, but also the back door. So, Anakin flags you over as he gets up. "Uh, Master. Isn't he just going to the bathroom?" She questions getting close enough to the hallway to peer down it. It's empty, aside from the usual couple making out on the walls. It brings a blush to her cheeks. No sign of the alien though.

They both walk further down the hallway until they both feel the door about to be opened, so Anakin does the first thing he can think of. He pushes his Padawan against the closest wall and kisses her. Trying his best to shield both of their identities, he pushes himself further against her and puts his hands on her cheeks trying to hide her face. She gasps in his mouth and her hands can't help but grip his robes.

She's never been this close to him, the feel of his skin on hers, his hands on her, feels like a dream. His intoxicating smell already clouds her mind. But the feeling is over before she knows it, the alien has walked back into the main area again. Anakin doesn't waste a second before following him.

Y/n stands at the wall still, hand coming up to touch her lips. That was her first kiss. Her first kiss was with him.

—————

The outcome of the mission was good, they ended up catching him and Obi-wan was happy.

The next day was training again for Anakin and Y/n. This time it felt so intimate, Anakin's touch would linger far longer than needed and he found any reason to touch her. It had her head spinning by the time they were done.

It apparently didn't stop at training either, Anakin would lead her everywhere with a secure hand on her lower back. He didn't comment on it so she decided not to either, in fear of him retracting the hand.

When he wasn't near, her thoughts were even more out of hand. Now, when she met up with him she was shyer than normal. A part of him regretted the kiss, he enjoyed it but he worried it bothered her. That night he made his way to her room, he wanted to talk about it without anything hearing.

And just like last time he heard her thoughts, here he was again. This time it seemed like she was already in the middle of her fantasizing. Before he could understand what she was thinking about, he knocked on the door.

It opened, the first thing he noticed was her big doe eyes staring up at him curiously.

“Master, what are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” He asked, clearing his throat.

She nodded and he stepped inside.

The second he was all the way in he could feel the waves of want and desire once more, but this time they were all around him and it was hard to speak. Anakin swallowed, looking into her eyes as he began. “I wanted to apologize for what happened during the mission, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

She shakes her head quickly, “No No, it’s not that it made me uncomfortable. It was..” She pauses as she sits down on the edge of her bed. “It was my first kiss.” She flinches, she was always teased for not having kissed anyone while she was there.

He gulps this time, he can’t deny the feeling of pride that grew in him.

He sat beside her, contemplating his words carefully.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take that away from you.”

She turns to look at him, the only light in the room shining from her small lamp on her nightstand brushed against his face, making his features soft.

“Don’t be sorry, I, um.” She stops herself before continuing, fearful of her words.

Her master eyes her, “You what?” He speaks through the force, gaze narrowing at her sputtering.

“I enjoyed it.”

They both stare at each other, his eyebrows furrow as he watches her face. Y/n watches the inner turmoil that’s present on his as a lock of his hair falls in front of his eyes. A hand comes up to her wrist, it glides upward, over her neck, and up to her cheek. It cradles her face as his resolve snaps. This kiss has purpose, he hopes she can feel it. The way their lips brush against each other is erotic and she can’t possibly hold in the small moan that’s threatening to spill.

The jedi pulls away slightly to eye her, his mouth is parted as he takes in everything she’s silently offering. His breaths fans over her face and it sets her nerves on fire.

The second kiss is full of lust and want, his gloved hand finds her hip before he decides they’re not nearly as close as he would like. The hand on her cheek slides down to her chest and gently pushes her to lay on her back, though, his lips never leave hers. He situates himself on top of her and pulls away farther than before. Gazing at her lidded eyes and soon the pout settling over her lips.

“My prettiest girl.” He sighs out, reaching up to run a nail up and down her neck.

“Master.” She begins.

“Anakin.” He corrects as the nail on her neck drifts down enough to pull her shirt away from her collarbones.

“Anakin..” She obeys, even if it feels foreign on her tongue. “I need you.”

“I know…you should really keep your thoughts to yourself yknow that, Angel?” The name has her eyes widening and a smirk gracing his face.

“How could you think I wouldn’t find out about all the dirty little fantasies you have about me?” He switches hands so his gloved one is pressed next to her shoulder on the bed keeping him upright, while the other one meets her hip again to push the fabric of her shirt upward, Anakin eyes the newly exposed skin and tugs at his lip.

“M’sorry.” She breathes as a fierce blush settles over her face.

“No need to be sorry…” He drags his blunt nails up her torso as he drags her shirt up, goosebumps tickle her flesh as a result. Even more so when he leans down to hover over her, now, exposed breasts. It doesn’t take long for her nipples to harden partly from being out in the open air, but mostly because of him.

The Padawan holds her breath as he nears the mounds of skin, it starts with dizzying kisses up the valley between them and then continues with him teasingly licking around one of her nipples. She gasps, her bottom lip caught under her front teeth harshly.

Anakin takes a full nipple into his mouth and sighs as the sounds he knew would sound so pretty, leave her. Especially the ones where she moans his name in that breathy voice of hers. Her back arches and it sends her breasts even further into his face. He removes his mouth for a moment, only to envelope the other nipple and graze his teeth ever so slightly against it, he takes in her gasps and whines and they all go straight to his ever tightening pants.

He pulls away again, this time to lean up and kiss her. Messily their lips slide together, he even experimentally brushes her lips with his tongue. But she pulls away, “What are you doing?” She asks curiously out of breath.

“Open your mouth for me, kay?” His gaze goes back and forth between her eyes to her lips as he talks.

They kiss again and he does the same thing, so, she opens her mouth. His skilled tongue licks into her unexpectedly and Y/n moves her hands to his clothed chest for stability, well, mental stability at least. Anakin then sucks her tongue rather harshly and it sends moan after moan into his mouth. He swallows all of them gladly as he feels himself become even more worked up.

He would love to keep kissing her, he honestly thinks he could do it forever, but they must keep going. She whines and chases his lips when he pulls away this time and it has his eyes darkening. The shirt she’s half wearing is thrown somewhere on the floor as he dips down to kiss her stomach, down her belly button and along the waistline of her pajama pants as he hooks his fingers along them, dragging them down slowly.

The pink underwear she’s wearing has a frilly bow on the top and he couldn’t handle it. It was like he was opening up his present on christmas, his little, angelic, present that wants nothing more than to have him degrade her. How could he possibly deny that?

“Such cute panties for someone who’s such a little slut for me. Tell me, Angel, would you let me fuck you anytime I asked? Would you let me fuck you in my speeder? On the holotable in front of everyone?” He skims his lips against the hem of her underwear once more as he eyes her like a predator.

“Yes, yes, would let you touch me wherever you wanted.” She panted out, gripping the sheets beneath her.

“You’re all mine, aren’t you?” He asks, pricking the waistband with his teeth and dragging the offending material down her legs. She couldn’t speak, the sight and the feeling left her speechless and unbelievably wet. As soon as the last of her clothing was gone the smell of her sex was utterly intoxicating, so he did the first thing he thought of. Prying her legs apart and pressing his face against her cunt. Y/n didn’t have time to worry about her being the only naked one, for that she was thankful.

Anakin truly believed he could die happily right now.

“Maker, you smell amazing. Bet you taste even better.” He practically moans into her, the vibrations send jolts of electricity up her spine and it causes her legs to almost close. But the iron grip he has on her didn’t allow for that. Even when he licked up the expanse of her heat and suckled on her clit, her thighs were begging to give out by then. The new feeling of his tongue was addicting, the way he licked into her clenching hole had her head spinning and heart pounding.

“You feeling good, Angel?” He pants against her, opening his eyes to gaze at her already fucked out form. A moan leaves her as she nods. His ungloved hand lets go of her thigh in favor of circling her cunt and pressing his fingers against her hole. She chokes out a moan at the action.

His mouth only leaves her clit to speak as he fills her up, one finger at a time.

“So tight.”

It has her clenching and he hopes he’s able to feel that around his cock. The fire consumes her from the inside out and all she can do is take it.

Y/n’s moans become louder and more frequent, that paired with the clenching she’s doing around his fingers, he assumes she’s going to come. So before she can, he sticks in another finger and scissors them inside of her, coaxing out an orgasm the best he can.

“Come for me, Y/n.”

Her limbs tense up as her eyes clamp shut, said fire is spreading through her, every finger, every fiber. The euphoric feeling is prolonged as much as possible because of his fingers and the mouth still sucking her pulsating clit.

When she comes back down he stands up, gripping his shirt and pulling it from his body. In her frazzled state, she eyes his stomach, his abs more specifically. His chest too, the way it heavily falls up and down from his deep breathing is hypnotic. His belt is pulled off, and soon he’s unbuttoning his pants, pulling them down and off. She can easily see the outline of him through his briefs and the fire that was just released in her seems to have come back.

Anakin watches her face closely as he slips down his briefs and kicks them off. Her gaze on his cock doesn’t last long he notices, her eyes fall to his hand that’s currently gliding up her calf. He can’t help but chuckle.

“You really like my hands, don’t you? Even the metal one?” He smiles at the end.

She nods shyly.

So he takes a detour, his hand comes up to her face, traces her jaw, then traces her bottom lip with his thumb. Her breathing changed almost immediately at that. He wonders something for a moment, so he trails his hand downward, ghosting over the base of her throat. She bites her lip again as he loosely grips her neck.

“So pretty with my hand around your neck. Are you ready for me, Angel?” He mumbles. She finds it hard to speak, the intense eye contact is quite distracting and intimidating.

But she finally gets out a “Yes, Anakin.” After he swats her thigh with his metal hand.

The hand around her neck doesn’t budge as he settles in between her thighs and wraps a leg around his waist. He watches his tip tap her clit and tease her until she’s whining. He can’t hold up the act for long though, he feels like he might explode if he doesn’t push inside of her soon. The initial stretch doesn’t feel good, even if Anakin is pushing in rather slow, it still has her flinching.

“It’ll feel good, Angel, don’t worry. Just wait.” He tells her, concerned. She nods in return, holding onto his waist loosely. He keeps his slow pace until he fully bottoms out, he’s sure he could come right now. Her walls latch onto him like a vice and she’s so, so, wet for him. “Fuck, Angel. So wet and tight for me.” He praises breathily.

She clenches at that and it has his brain short circuit. All he wants to do is move, move until he comes inside her, but he waits until she’s ready.

“You can m-move.”

The first experimental thrust is intoxicating for the both of them. He was right, it does feel good. Just him inside her feels good. Every vein and ridge is felt and she makes note of each and every one of them. Another thing she notes is how deep he is, she swears she can feel him in her stomach at this point.

It doesn’t take him long to set a good starting pace, one that isn’t too rough but still satisfying.

“Anakin, you feel so good.” She moans, hips absentmindedly raising to meet his thrusts. The hand around her throat becomes tighter as he groans out.

“Flip over.” He says all of a sudden, pulling out. Her reaction time isn’t very good right now so she furrows her eyebrows. Far too slow for Anakin, so he takes it upon himself to manhandle her onto her stomach. She lays flat against the bed as he forces open her legs again. This time when he pushes in, the stretch is delicious. It has her pushing her ass against him, “Already such a slut for me.” He mumbles as he hovers over her back.

One particular harsh thrust has a loud, pornographic, moan leaving her kiss-swollen lips. He narrows his eyes as his flesh hand presses into her spine, moving upward until it reaches the back of her neck. It swivels to the front, lingers over her windpipe, and drags up to her mouth, pressing firmly against her lips. So firm that her head is lifted into his shoulder as he begins to jackhammer his hips into her.

Leaning down to her ear, he begins, “Such a perfect cunt for me, Angel. Gonna fuck you any time I get the chance.” He groans, grinding into her before thrusting again. The moans leaving her vibrate his hand and he can’t help but thrust faster.

Her brain feels like goo and she hopes he doesn’t ask her anything right now. But, of course.

“Do you like my cock, Angel?” He asks as he moves his hand for her to answer. She only whines and nods, hoping that’ll suffice. But it doesn’t. He smirks as he leans in again, “Use you words.” His tone has goosebumps prickling her neck as she tries to muster up something to say.

“Mm, I- I love it, mm, Ani.” The nickname gets him where it hurts, he can feel how close he is. So, he abandons her mouth and moves his hand in between her body and the bed, circling her throbbing clit.

His metal hand grips the back of her head and pushes it into her sheets, keeping her quiet as he continues abusing her leaking cunt with his cock and fingers. Just as he begins to feel his orgasm coming even closer she babbles and moans, “Ani, I’m, oh my god.” As she clenches around him sporadically. “Good girl, come around me.” She does just that and it pushes him to the edge immediately, his hips stutter and his groans fill the room, he pushes to the hilt as he comes inside of her. Filling her up until it’s leaking out.

They both pant as he pulls out and she turns around. Anakin places a kiss on her lips, once, twice, three times before speaking, “You did so good for me, Y/n. So proud of you.”

“Thank you, Master.” She lazily smiles.

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin smut #anakin x reader #star wars smut #star wars x reader #darth vader smut #darth vader x reader

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sanakiras · 6 months ago

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LIAR, LIAR! [TEASER]

PAIRING — kim mingyu x reader

WORD COUNT — 1.4k (full fic will be 20k+)

RELEASE DATE — TBA, will probably take a while!

SYNOPSIS — in a dramatic turn of events, a rich businessman is found dead in his lavish estate, and the authorities believe it was no accident. as the detectives dig deeper, they ultimately end up with two key suspects: you, the businessman’s very own daughter, and your sworn enemy, kim mingyu. as the time progresses, tensions rise and secrets spill — and the truth has the power to either bring you closer together or tear you apart.

TAGS — murder mystery, rich rivals to partners in crime to lovers, whole lotta plot, dark comedy if u ask me, explicit sexual content, somewhat graphic depictions of death, everyone and everything is dysfunctional™, mentions of suicide, moral compass is nowhere to be found, angst

♪ aquartos - crystal city,, verydeadly - wolves (kanye west cover),, blue foundation - eyes on fire (4 ave version),, low - dancing and blood,, vessel - red sex

NOTE — one of my favorite episodes of going seventeen remains bad clue 2020, i loved mingyu’s role in it and i could totally see him portraying darker/morally grey characters and rock tf out of it so. i wrote this solely based on that idea. enjoy :D

i. TWO WEEKS SINCE THE MURDER

the interrogation room is unnecessarily bright, the noise of the water dispenser in the corner and the flickering led light above you running through your ears. the chair you’re seated on is uncomfortable, though it’s nothing compared to the tension you feel as the man in front of you treats you like you’re guilty of something.

“on september 2nd, sometime around six o’clock, your father reportedly got unwell, so he left his office early, choosing to do the rest of his paperwork at home. according to the information we got from the gps tracker in his car, he went straight home, took no detours. he arrived at your family estate thirty minutes later. then at eight o’clock, the police received a call from you, saying your father’s hung himself.”

you stare at the the inspector whose name you did not bother remembering before waving with your hand. “i’m aware. i’ve heard the recap of events many times at this point. this isn’t the first time i’m being interrogated, surprisingly enough.”

with a puzzled look, he raises his brow at you. “you don’t think you should be a suspect?”

“no, i don’t.”

“at the time of the incident, you were home, as well as two members of the staff. since the staff were on their dinner break and you were apparently in your room, it’s hard to say what happened, since there were no witnesses.”

“do you mind me asking why you think it’s murder and not just a suicide?”

he’s intrigued by the way you discuss the topic so casually. “your father was an important man. wouldn’t you want to know who killed him if that is the case?”

“sure. i’d thank them.” you smile at him, the hatred for your father shining through. “believe me, inspector — my father was a miserable man who surrounded himself with other miserable people. i wasn’t there by choice.”

“did he treat you badly, then?” he continues, trying to pry any information out of you.

you can only sigh. “i was his daughter by blood only. that’s all.”

with your demeanor softening into something sadder, the inspector’s tone changes into something different. “aside from you, and the staff, of course, we do have another suspect who we think could have something to do with your father’s death.”

that sparks your interest. “who?”

the inspector grabs his small pile of documents to pull a printed photo out of it, putting it before you. you visibly frown, because the person on the photo is someone you’re unfortunately awfully familiar with.

“kim mingyu is a suspect? seriously?” you ask, completely in shock. ironically, he’s the last person you’d suspect in a scenario like the one you currently find yourself in.

“what can you tell me about him?”

“he’s a year younger than me. we went to the same high school, same university, have some of the same friends. though all of that is relatively common in our social circle.”

“anything else?”

keeping the insults to yourself for now, you press your lips together. “our parents are good friends. well, were, now that my father’s gone. mingyu and i hate eachother to the bone, though.”

“any particular reason why?”

“i’m not sure where it started… there’s just something off about him. it’s always been there. he’s—beyond arrogant. always showing off his looks, his wealth, his charm, his intelligence. everything. he insults me, i insult him. we simply don’t get along, never have. nothing you haven’t seen before, i’m sure.”

the inspector raises his brow. “i think you may have left something out.”

“such as?”

his hand moves into the blue folder sitting on the table, taking another photo out of it, holding it up before you. “your father was often spotted with him. at events, business meetings — you name it. matter of fact, your father seemed to be accompanied by kim mingyu more than anyone else. which is interesting, considering you are his only child.”

your gaze turns sour, voice softer yet more hateful than before. “don’t tell me this is the reason i’m a suspect.”

“let’s just say it doesn’t make you look good.”

“you really believe i murdered my own father in cold blood because he cared more about kim mingyu than he ever did about me? that’s pathetic and ridiculous.”

“you wouldn’t be the first. it’s a plausible story.”

scoffing at the accusation, you shake your head. “we’re done here. the moment you have an actual lead, i’ll talk, but not like this. i’m still here grieving and you’re accusing me of being the culprit.” you get up in anger, taking your bag with you before slamming the door shut, not bothering to listen to what the man is trying to tell you to make you stay.

this whole shit-train started two weeks ago. your father was found dead in your childhood home, hung by a rope around his neck. instead of calling it a death by suicide, the police apparently have enough reason to suspect it was a homicide.

you’ve been questioned several times in the past few weeks, but there’s been a gradual shift in the behavior of the inspector and his handimen — they’re treating you like a suspect now.

which you are, for whatever reason. they have yet to come up with any actual evidence.

your contact in the police force mentioned to you that you’re not just any suspect — you’re one of the two main suspects.

and that is unsettling, especially when you discovered who else is.

as you go down the hall, you suddenly lock eyes with kim mingyu himself, who’s leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his trousers. a few strands of hair hover by his cheeks, framing his strong features.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you ask in a rather hostile manner, the scowl on your face deepening.

his lips part before he starts explaining. “they wanted to talk to me. again.”

“haven’t you heard the rumors, gyu?” you mockingly use the nickname, taking a step closer to him, “they’re saying there’s a possibility you killed him.”

your arch-nemesis looks back at you with a furrowed brow. “that’s ridiculous.”

“is it? you were always with him… it’s perhaps the only thing that makes sense in all of this.”

he seems offended you’d even insinuate something like that. “it’s really the other way around, though. you’re the one who hated him. i had nothing against the man.”

it’s true that you and your father didn’t exactly get along, especially the past few years, to put it lightly. you always considered him to be greedy, cold and unforgiving, and you certainly didn’t cry the moment they told you he had passed away.

“no, we all know how much you liked him,” you hardly make an effort to hide your disdain, “but they must not believe that, considering you’re just as much of a suspect as i am.”

he clenches his jaw. “i’m not guilty.”

“neither am i.”

it’s quiet for a moment as you’re both unsure of what to say next, a rarity between you.

a few years ago, your father mentioned you and mingyu could make a good pair. you proceeded to laugh in his face.

mingyu is a constant reminder of what you could be, and that’s the last thing you need in your life.

“if i find out you’re somehow involved in this—”

instead of immediately refuting the statement, he narrows his eyes at you. “then what?”

you realize you need to be careful with your words here — you can’t throw around threats to kill people as the top suspect in a murder investigation. “i’ll make sure you pay for it. they might buy your little golden-boy act, but i sure as shit don’t. i never have.”

a smirk subtly tugs at his lips as he leans more down, eyes flicking lower before they meet yours again. “i’d be careful with my words if i were you,” he firmly tells you, his lashes fluttering, “there’s always someone watching.”

only now do you take notice of how close you’re standing to him, and you look behind you, seeing the inspector that just interrogated you observing you and mingyu from a distance.

so you push yourself away from him, giving him a last glare before walking away.

mingyu’s eyes remain on you until you move past the corner. he only moves from his spot once you’re gone from his field of view, greeting the inspector with a kind smile.

if you’d like to be tagged in this once it’s released, leave a comment! <3

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

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kurishiri · 3 months ago

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Ring and Nica bond level story summaries (up to level 4)

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ these are crude story summaries that are meant to give you an idea of what’s happening in the story. it’s not a pretty translation 😅 i don’t have darius here because i haven’t raised his bond level yet, but i may post about his bond stories later unless someone else posts translations? but if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but please don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

nica 🍒

bond level 3: “eating a meal together”

nika is like “relax a little more and lets enjoy dinner. todays a social gathering for vogel”

then hes like “did yk robin? they say you can tell someones char from the way they eat. if they eat quickly, theyre hasty and dont like losing. and the opposite means theyre more laid back. ..well, which do you think i am?”

"im in the middle of watching": nikas like "oh is that so? then feel free to look on more. ah, i can keep my clothes on, right?"

"ur a superficial person": nikas like "yep, i get told that a lot. i happen to reaaally like women - including you, ofc?"

"u dont enjoy ur life that much": nikas like "......hmm? so ur the type to like guys who r pitiful and unhappy?"

nikas like when we finish eating lets tell each other our answers then.

"come to my room, robin. we can get to know each other more there.."

bond level 4: skills

nika is like "sorry to keep you waiting robin. oh? why do you look so surprised? ahh did you think a fox (harrison) was coming or smth"

"the card that got sent to u, that was written by me. thats right, its forged handwriting"

"its one of my skills. did you enjoy it, robin?"

"absolutely not": nikas like "and as ive been sayinggg, hearing u say that is like the highest praise to me"

"bye (im leaving)": nikas like ehh ur going back already? even tho this part is known for not having many carriages around.

glare at him silently: nika is like oh, i like that frustrated look on ur face. im into that (<- this sentence is prolly not completely accurate)

then he’s all like "aww, you’re so mean. dont u think im here just bc i miss u (w/o an ulterior motive) 🥺"

"pfft, hahaha! u get touched so easily like that.. ahh ur such a strange one 😆"

"lets go, robin, and take me around london. lets see.. a place where theres a lot of girls would be great :]"

ring 💍

bond level 3: “eating a meal together”

ring is eating and finishes his portion quickly.

kate offers her portion: ring is like "noo you should eat ur portion"

when kate says there r seconds: ring is like "omg ur a genius :D"

"i'll give u my portion": ring is like "eh- ah. is.. it really ok? ..thank u then. i'll eat it all (i.e. with care)"

and then he says he didnt intend to get close to kate bc shes a fairytale keeper and hes part of vogel, but kate had been so kind to him so he became kinda like confused xD

bond level 4: skills

ring is naming flowers. and kate apparently caught him in 4k so he is all flustered like "omg.. dont tell me u.. saw all of that?"

"i didnt see anything": ring is like but theres a grin on ur face.. ur kind of bad at lying.

"..im sorry": ring is like "when you apologize so sincerely like that, i feel bad for being surprised.."

"well, i wonder abt that?": ring is like "d-dont grin like that >,> you have a teasing side to u too, huh.."

but anw he says that "yes i do like flowers :> when im free i try to remember the names of flowers and their meanings"

"why..? well that's.. to make frie- i mean, its nothing."

he asks kate to forget what she saw here and then is like "bye ttyl"

when hes like some distance away from her he whispers to himself that he shouldnt get close to the fairytale keeper.

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sadesluvr · 10 months ago

Text

Dirty Little Secret

Even with a roster of sexual partners, Derek Danforth keeps coming back to you.

(Derek Danforth x GN! Reader)

A/N: I conjured this idea basically the moment Wallace started laying into Derek lmfao. You don’t have to have watched The Beekeeper to understand this (It’s chaotic and generic, but I had fun!) - Just know Derek is a coke and vape addicted, multi-millionaire crypto-selling playboy scammer who’s also the son of a president?😭

The place mentioned in this fic (‘The Warehouse’) is fictional and not featured in the movie!

Word count: 1.3K

Tags: SMUT / Gender Neutral Reader / Drug usage (Cocaine) / WARNING: READER DOES A HIT OF COCAINE / Oral sex, M receiving / Degradation / Dirty talk / Implications of cheating / A little angsty, if you squint / This is just Reader giving Derek a blowjob so Minors DNI

‘Need u. Meet me at The Warehouse’

You needn’t check the message twice to know who it was.

There was only one person in your life who spoke to you like this; who disappeared on most weekdays, only to show up on weekends between the hours of midnight to 5AM without a care in the world. The man’s name was Derek Danforth, a guy who ‘just happened’ to be the son of now President, Jessica Danforth.

You hadn’t met him through any lavish political gala, nor from a meet-and-greet after an inspiring TED Talk - no, he’d chosen the oh-so classy way to slide into your DM’s on Instagram. You’d come to know that fast and sleazy was Derek’s brand.

At first you’d thought it was a scam, not wanting to believe that a millionaire would even bother to speak to you, but a quick $100 transfer into your linked account had told you otherwise.

‘Think I’m real now?’ He’d messaged back, and it was from there that he’d sent a valet to your place for what was supposed to be a hookup.

He’d fucked you so good that night; the feel of his fingers gripping your ass as he pounded into you from behind still etched into your skin. He’d left marks; from marks sourced from his rabid teeth on your neck, to marks from the metal of his rings that had dug tiny scratches into your flesh. He hadn’t shut up the entire time, grunting and groaning in your ear about how much of a dirty slut you were, and how good your tight hole felt against his cock. He’d probably said that to all the people he’d fucked.

Still, it got to you, and apparently to him also. What started as an unsuspecting DM turned into full contact, with 3AM calls and erotic FaceTime sessions. Derek was often high off of coke, or drunk, or somewhere in between, all whilst puffing on his vape, huffing the thick white air like a dragon. Fitting, because he was dangerous.

And you’d been pulled into his shiny lair once again.

The Warehouse, or what you liked to aptly dub the ‘Whorehouse’ was an underground club, apparently run by Derek’s dealer. Yes, Derek hadn’t even had the courtesy to take you to one of his many properties to do his business, deciding that a sweaty basement would be best for you.

At least you could somehow remain anonymous.

“Knees, now. I want a blowjob,” Derek said in his usual dismissive tone as he slumped on a red couch before leaning forward and sprinkling a white powder on the table. You rolled your eyes as he snorted it, watching as he ran a hand through his mullet, absorbing the endorphins into his bloodstream.

He looked up at you with furrowed brows. He wasn’t one used to dealing with insolence.

“I don’t have all day.”

“Jeez, a ‘hey’ would be nice,” you grumbled. “I had to work overtime, I barely even got settled at home —“

“So? I don’t fucking care,” he scoffed. “There’s a couch, you can settle here.”

You knew damn well there wasn’t going to be any ‘settling’. And as much as you hated it, you loved it.

Derek spread his legs expectedly as you dived between them, struggling with his zipper to take out his hard cock. It didn’t matter if he was average sized - he'd more than proved himself to know how to use it. Still, it never got lost on you as to how thick he was, the filling sensation of his cock in your mouth for the first time becoming one of your favourites.

He was already leaking precum, and you wasted no time in licking the fluids up before moving down to the rest of his length, with your hand planted firmly on the base of his cock. You started off with slow, but deliberate motions, desperate to feel his girth in every crevice of your mouth, motivated by the male’s drawn out moans. His head was flung back against the top of the couch, arms spread as he basically gave himself up to you - one of the rare times he would only surrender.

Until he got impatient and placed his hands on the back of your neck, grip firm as he began to drag your head up and down his length, demanding you increase the pace. Pools of spit began to build up inside of your mouth as he did, accommodating to the sudden force. Every time you retracted from his length, the pink flesh began to glimmer; shine, even, as you serviced it. To some, it was a taboo and demeaning act, but to Derek, it was the ultimate act of your submission and devotion to him. To this day, even a year on from your first encounter, you couldn’t understand why he kept coming back to you.

“Fuck,” he drawled, clenching his teeth down on his bottom as he heaved. “You’re so fucking good at this - It’s like you were just made for my cock…”

The statement caused your stomach to backflip, only encouraging you to take him deeper. His thick head was now inches away from the back of your throat, threatening to make you gag. Unfathomably, you seemed tempted to take that risk, but Derek intervened.

“Here,” he said flatly as he gently pushed you off of him, leaning down towards the table. “Try this,”

He rolls up a fifty and guides your head along the white powder. Your nose tingles and your heart clenches a little, but there’s no immediate effect.

“It’ll take a while, but trust me, you’ll fucking feel it,” Derek smirks, drawing you from your thoughts. “Good thing we’ve got all night,”

It wasn’t long before you were back on his cock, vessel gripped firmly in your hand as you began to stroke him up and down, in tandem with the movements of your neck.

“You’ve never had blow like this before,” he laughs, hands frantic as they gripped at his thighs, trying to hold them still. “Then again, you’ve never had a dick like this before either, hm? Don’t you have a boyfriend to go home to? Poor guy. I must have you whipped…”

Desperate to respond, you popped his cock out of your mouth, but he held up a hand to

silence you.

“I really don’t need to fucking hear it,” he chuckled. “You’re such a slut, you know that? You suck my dick, moan like a bitch, and keep coming back for more, but here you are arguing with me…I’m beginning to think you like this little relationship of ours,”

Who was he kidding? You both knew the truth.

You hummed, and Derek ran his tongue over his teeth, his bouncing leg beginning to quicken. His hands found your head, gripping the back of your neck as his cock began to twitch, vein throbbing against the flat of your tongue. He was always his most animalistic in the heat of the moment; and even though you enjoyed the culmination of your hard work, it was also the time where he spouted things, words and phrases that you knew were nothing but bullshit, and yet clouded your eyes with hope.

“Moan for me,” he grunted, pupils blown as they focused on the pornographic display below him. “Tell me that I’m the best you’ve ever had,”

You let out a whine, and he hummed.

“Worship me,” he continued. “Show me how much you love me…Fuck – Open your mouth…!”

Swiftly, Derek removed his aching member from your mouth, eyes wide as he watched a bridge of saliva form from your raw lips to his skin. With a few slick pumps, his fell half lidded as he came over your face, streaks of white fluid coating your cheeks and lips, with some even falling in your lashes and dripping onto your nose. He convulsed, as if he were temporarily losing grip on his sanity and panted as he tried for air. He ran his hands across his beard before he cupped your cheek, an indiscernible look in his eye before he patted it.

“Clean yourself up. I want you nice and fresh for round two.”

It pained you that you were so enthusiastic to oblige.

#florence writes!!#derek danforth x reader #derek danforth #the beekeeper #derek danforth smut #josh hutcherson #x male reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral fanfic

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vamphrrr · 10 months ago

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Hi!! i loved your tough love fanfic of clarisse! so i decided to ask if you can make a clarisse la rue , (aphrodite child) reader, but she’s not some normal teenager… she’s a princess if you get what im saying??? lets say that aphrodite dated a princess and had a child with him before she left, and so that’s where reader grew up, no one knew that the reader was a princess u til she told clarisse, she was really worried clarisse was gonna hate her but clarisse is like “Woah me mad at you? no way” and clarisse supports her! (Including some kissing, flirting, it would be super nice if the reader was shorter the clarisse probably up to her chest like in the tough love fanfic!)

notes ; omgggg this is so cute!! i’m so glad u liked my last fic i was nervous about posting 😭. also i’ll be making clarisse call reader princess too now knowing SHE IS ONE! they’re already dating in this. i used the same banner bc i’m too lazy to create new ones based on plot LMAO. i wrote this so soon but sometimes if anyone requests it might take me a couple of days bc of school and stuff! think i went a little overboard with this one. i should probably start counting how much i write lol.

%% are you mad?

in which your super attractive girlfriend finds out the secret you’ve been hiding from her for so long. also, she accidentally meets your dad.

— clarisse la rue x f!aphrodite!reader

warnings ; reader has doubts, tall & buff clarisse / short reader (again), flirty!clarisse flirty!clarisse, a little angst?, kissing, two swear words, flustered reader (oh how the turned tables), ooc clarisse? (i’m never sure if i write her right), one suggestive thought in the first paragraph (nothing happened tho!). a little too much background i think… too much father, did my daddy issues come out? made reader’s dad a king bc plot reasons, maybe more emotional than requested srry😭

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. Sneaking off from your girlfriend’s warm bed in the middle of the night. For a minute, you wondered how’d that look to anyone watching. A girl hastily running from a cabin that she very obviously did not belong in, a long shirt —it was Clarisse’s— accompanied by small shorts, (which were not visible might you add). Oh and how could you forget, you were barefoot. Who’s bright idea was that? Oh, yeah, yours. Why?

Gods were you cold. Should’ve brought a jacket, you thought.

The bottom of your feet hurt, stepping on rocks and sticks and who knows what else would do that to you. Next time, you would definitely bring hiking boots or something. And a jacket. In the forest, you were far away from anybody that might disturb you. Pulling Clarisse’s shirt up until your shorts were visible, you dug your hand inside the pocket, meeting with a drachma. You approached the round well, splashing water mist being met with sunlight from below, creating a rainbow.

How? It was the middle of the night. Why was the sun inside? You decided not to think about it.

This well was old, dirty from not being used much. See, not many people knew about it. Apparently, it was for those that needed to talk to somebody reallyyyy privately, that’s why it was hidden in the forest, only appearing at night. You weren’t sure how that worked, but you stumbled upon it a couple of years back when you were being chased by wood nymphs for being out at night. They found you, obviously. Punishment was not escapable and you ended up having to clean the stables the day after you got your nails done. Yuck.

Now here you were again, this being the only place where you could speak to your father without anyone finding you. It’s not that you were embarrassed of him per say, it was that you really didn’t want anyone to know that you were a royal. I mean, how ironic was that? A daughter of Aphrodite, a Princess? Forget it. You’d get made fun of for the rest of your life. You especially didn’t want Clarisse to know. She was your girlfriend yes, and this was something very important that you needed to tell her about, but you weren’t sure how’d she react. You knew she wouldn’t make fun of you like others would, but you didn’t know if dating a literal Princess was too much of a deal breaker for her.

Being with a royal was too stressful, there was so much that they’d get criticized for and so little people that they’d be accepted by. Your dad was a King with many past lovers, Aphrodite included. The people loved her, I mean, who wouldn’t? But then she was gone, disappearing the same night she gave birth to you. Your dad knew of her, of this. He knew she’d be gone by the time the sun rose. Yet, he did nothing. Who was he, than just a mortal man? He could not stop a goddess from leaving.

He got with others after that, your dad had a lot of love to give. Maybe that was something that attracted your mother to him. Public lovers were not taken well, the people respected the King, sure, they just didn’t respect his partners. Constant judging, constant eyes following their every move, constant hatred being thrown, constant stress on their shoulders. In the end, they could never take it. Running away or completely disappearing seemed to be something they all had in common. Your father had to give up on love, small secret romances blossomed for a while, but never enough for it to go public.

That is why you were so scared to tell Clarisse of your status. She was smart, she’d realize being with you would not be worth the hassle. She’d leave you just like everyone else left your father. Clarisse was the love of your life, you don’t think you’d be able to handle it if she left.

You threw the drachma in, calling for the rainbow goddess to let you see your father.

“Dad,” you said, once the back of his head was visible.

He jumped, turning around. “Oh! My dearest daughter, you scared me.” He laughed a bit, looking at you with such soft eyes it almost made you cry. “Why are you Iris messaging me at this hour? Isn’t it time for you to be resting?”

You swallowed, a sudden knot appearing in your throat. “I just needed someone to talk to.” Playing with the ring around your finger that Clarisse gave you for your one year anniversary, you choked out. “I have this amazing girlfriend, she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me here at camp and—” You stopped talking, taking a small breath, not noticing the familiar figure of Clarisse standing a couple of feet behind you. “—and I’m scared to tell her that I’m not who she thinks I am. That I’m not this girl that just so happens to be a daughter of Aphrodite. I love her so much and I want to tell her about you. I want to bring her to you in person because I want the two people I love the most to meet. But how do I do that when I haven’t even told her I’m a Princess and that the only way you two could meet is if I took her to our royal palace?”

Your father widened his eyes, not expecting his little girl to burst out her feelings just like that. He sighed, glancing behind your shoulder. “If this girl you love so much really loves you like you do her, she wouldn’t care about your status.” Staring at who he assumed was your girlfriend behind you, he continued. “She wouldn’t care that you hid this from her. Instead, she’d try to see it from your point of view.” Moving his eyes away from Clarisse, he looked at you, eyes squinting in light mischief. “You should tell her, she’ll understand. I love you.” Is all he said, before he was gone.

You’re left staring at a rainbow, your dad nowhere in sight. Suddenly, a branch broke from behind you. Turning around quickly, heart beating rapidly, you’re met with the eyes of your girlfriend. You immediately let out a gasp, not knowing she was there.

Clarisse speaks up. “You’re a Princess?”

You felt your mouth dry up. With wide eyes, you respond. “Please don’t hate me! I didn’t know how to tell you!” Walking closer to her, you reached your hands out, grabbing one of her own with both of yours. “Please, you have to understand. I didn’t want this to ruin us.”

She stayed silent.

Silence was haunting, especially coming from Clarisse, someone who was always provoking people and boasting loudly everywhere. You gulped, with lips shaking you asked, “A-are you mad?”

She lets out a huff. Was something funny? Was she annoyed? Angry? Did she not care at all? Those were the questions running through your mind. You’d find out the answers soon enough.

“Woah,” she shook her head, letting you see the slight amused smile on her face. “Me? Mad at you? No fucking way.” She reached her free hand towards your face, moving away the strand of hair that fell slightly over your eye. “It just… surprised me s’ all.”

You let out a breath, relaxing and putting your head against her chest. “Thank the gods, I thought you were going to break up with me or something.”

Reaching out again, she placed her forefinger below your chin, raising your head to meet her eyes. “How could I ever break up with someone so beautiful?” She leaned down, your lips grazing against each other’s. “Why would I leave when I can now be your knight in shining armor?” Closing the distance, your eyes fluttered shut. Butterflies were in your stomach just like the first time you two ever kissed. Without your lips separating, she put one arm around your waist, the other grabbing below your thighs, hoisting you up.

“Ah!” you screamed, separating your lips, not expecting it.

Clarisse smirked, seeing you get flustered. “You don’t have any shoes on.” You pouted, putting your arms around her neck so you wouldn’t fall while she walked back (not that she would let you fall off in the first place). “Didn’t think I’d notice, did you, princess?” Teasingly, she used the pet name, now knowing how much truth was behind it.

You whined, pressing your face against her neck. “You’re so unfair. I’m supposed to be the one flustering you.”

“Awe, the princess is mad,” she cooed, letting her lips touch the tip of your ear. “You want me to get on one knee and apologize?”

Clarisse laughed when you let out a loud groan, hitting her lightly on the chest. Smiling, she knew the only way she’d ever leave you was if she was six feet under. And even then, she’d find a way to get back to the land of the living just to be by your side.

The only things heard in the dead of night were the grasshoppers, chirping their little melodies into the darkness. That was until you muttered sleepily, letting out a yawn. “I love you.”

Clarisse repeated after you. “I love you.” Feeling your eyes fluttered close, she followed it with an almost silent “goodnight.”

Now that you were asleep, she felt panic slowly rise, steps quickening to reach the Ares cabin faster. She could only think about two things now.

Holy shit, she’s a Princess. Oh my gods, I met her dad.

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ddejavvu · 29 days ago

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mei you straight up rekindled my love for the outsiders with a single fic (the power u hold is immense girlie). domesticity for my poor greaser boys?! ahhh my brain was so fuzzy by the end of the fic. magnificent as always <3

so if you'd like requests i'm more than happy to oblige. darry was my first dilf crush (i mean he has several children in his care and i'd like to duck him. counted as a dilf in my 13 year old brain and counts as a dilf in my brain still lmao) so how about darry n reader mom and dadding all over the place; maybe they all go to the drive thru together, reader n darry are emergency contacts at the hospital and mischief is afoot, they get some time away from their several greaser children... or whatever scenario your beautiful brain cooks up. i hope this is a little inspiring and i send you tons of good vibes (and a big phat kiss. MWAH!!).

send me requests for the outsiders!

i'm so flattered <33 darry's been my fave for a loooong time i love that big beefy man omg <3

You'd think that six years old is the last age you'd ever have to worry about restaurant etiquette with, but apparently 18-year-olds can't handle themselves either.

"Two-Bit, you keep your feet to yourself under the table and stop kicking Ponyboy." You hiss, keeping your voice low so that none of the other patrons can hear you. There's not many times you'd ever try traipsing through a fancy restaurant with the entire gang, but Darry's managed to get himself promoted to worksite supervisor, which means less back-breaking labor and more cushy pay. It's a special occasion, and everyone's greased their hair as neatly as possible.

"He stole the piece of bread I wanted." Two-Bit insists, "He grabbed the biggest piece with the softest insides and he left me the heel!"

"We have two baskets," Darry passes the secondary bread basket over to Two, eyes glinting warningly, "Now listen to Y/N and quit kickin' my brother."

Ponyboy shares a grateful glance at Darry, but nothing more so as not to hurt his teenage ego. You're sure his shins are smarting, but he'd never admit it.

"That's the good stuff." Steve dips his hand into the basket as well, and together both boys clear it out, save for the heels. You watch Soda realize that he's been cheated, and before he can wrap his hand around the heel of the bread and chuck it across the table at Steve you catch his arm, staring dead into his eyes.

"Sodapop Patrick Curtis, if you throw food at this table, I'll give you a buzzcut."

His eyes widen, your threat proving effective. He runs a cautious hand over his styled hair as he sinks back into his seat, staring at his empty bread plate.

You sigh as you scoop your bread onto his plate, taking the heel for yourself and lamenting the loss of the soft innards.

"Y'all are too old for this shit." Dallas remarks, a look of distaste on his face, but no one points out that he's having a cigarette for an appetized instead of bread and butter.

"Pass me the menu, Steve?" Johnny asks, eyeing the large folded plastic tucked beneath Steve's plate. You see the moment he gets the idea, his eyes glinting mischievously as he goes to whip the menu out from beneath the plate without moving it.

"Don't- do not do that!" You break your own rules, landing a sharp kick against Steve's calf so that he stops in his tracks, "I swear you boys act like toddlers. Steve, pick up the plate and then hand Johnny the menu."

"Couldn't've made it anyways," Ponyboy mumbles, and any sympathy you'd had for the youngest teen vanishes when he challenges Steve.

"Oh yes I could'a," Steve argues, obeying your directions only to avoid another kick to the shin, "You don't know what you're talkin' about, kid, I could whip a tablecloth off a table without a fork movin' outta place."

"I've seen him do it," Soda nods, ever-loyal to his best friend, "Well- one glass broke, but it wasn't that bad."

"Wasn't my fault," Steve agrees, "It was the wind."

"Your table's in your basement, stupid," Dallas scoffs, "There ain't no wind in there."

"There's a window," Steve remarks hotly, perhaps pushing boundaries too much considering it's Dallas he's smarting off to, but Darry cuts in and effectively silences everyone.

"I'm gonna make every single one'uh you hoodlums walk home if you don't start behaving." Darry's tone keeps everyone silent, even Dally who watches Darry with a mixture of interest and amusement.

"Feet off your chairs," There's a rustle of movement as most boys adjust, "Elbows off the table," Another commotion, "And voices low. There's other people here, and if one of y'all launches a piece of bread across the room we're gonna get kicked out. Sit down, shut up, and figure out what you're eating."

Six heads duck shamefully towards their menus, and a blissful silence reigns over the table for the first time all night. You turn towards Darry with a shit-eating grin etched into your features, one that makes his cheeks warm as he tries occupying himself with his own menu.

You prop the plastic sheet up on the table between you, and it's large enough to cover your faces. You duck towards Darry and press a sweet kiss to his rosy cheek, "That was pretty intense, Superman. I liked it. Whipped 'em right into shape."

"Damn hooligans." Darry grumbles, letting his nose brush against yours.

"Scoundrels," You snicker, leaning in to press another kiss to his face, this time catching his lips.

"Whippersnappers." He murmurs against your mouth, the two of you shaking with laughter behind your menus.

"Unwilling audience members." Two-Bit snags the edge of your menu, tearing it away from you to reveal you and Darry with your noses pressed together, "Talk about poor table manners- I'm pretty sure you're supposed to save the boning for dessert."

"Y'all are gross," Soda's nose scrunches in faux-distaste, but you know he's thrilled that his brother has found you.

"You'd better hurry up and figure out what you want, then." You smirk teasingly at the group, "The sooner we order the sooner we eat, and the sooner we eat the sooner we can get out of here and get a room."

"Hurry up, Johnny," Dallas elbows the boy theatrically in the side, a sharp laugh coming from Johnny as Dallas smirks at the two of you, "If we wait any longer they might start making out behind the bread basket."

#the outsiders x reader #darrel curtis x reader #darry curtis x reader #darry curtis fanfiction #darrel curtis fanfiction #darry curtis imagine #darrel curtis imagine #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders fanfiction

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klaus-littlestwolf · 1 year ago

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Hiii! I was wondering if u could do a royalty au with the yandere Mikaelsons! It can either be human or vampire but like image THE AESTHETICS OF IT!! And can u somehow include rebekah as well!! I can leave the rest of the plot up to u or if u want I can also send ideas :)

I Don’t Want a Crown -Klaus M.

For something like this I could see going vampire but no, I’m going human on this. I’m excited to try it out!

Part 2

Your father thought it was an insult.

You were your fathers youngest daughter, the only one currently unmarried as he had married off your sisters already to make necessary alliances. The Mikaelson family was a very powerful ally, they were close with the king and queen but your father only wanted you to be married to the eldest, Elijah. Elijah however is already betrothed.

Elijah was happy to marry you to his younger brother, Niklaus, who you hadn’t met but you had heard some truly horrific stories of him beheading and gutting his enemies.

Your father dismissed you so that he could talk to Elijah alone and you happily exited the stuffy room, exploring the castle before making your way outside. You were enjoying the overcast sky before coming across a man leaning against a tree and seemingly sketching something in a book. You paused as you walked passed him to look and see him drawing an image of your horse that was by the stables.

‘That’s very good…are you an artist or something?’ You questioned and he paused to look down at you before smiling.

‘Or something, it’s a nice hobby. I’m glad you like it. I’m Nik, lovely to meet you.’ He took your hand, kissing your knuckle softly and bowing as he did which made you smile. Many men that greeted you didn’t think they had to bow to anyone but your parents, this man was a stranger and showing you more respect than your regular suitors.

‘I’m Y/n, it’s a pleasure. Well, I’m sorry to have bothered you Nik.’ You turned to walk away when he quickly fell into step beside you.

‘I can’t leave a beautiful girl to walk alone now can I? What kind of a man would I be?’ He held out his arm and you took it as you walked through the gardens. ‘So, why are you taking a stroll alone on such a dreary day?’

‘Oh I love days like these, and I love walking in the rain…much to my fathers dismay but that somehow makes it better.’ You teased and he seemed to like it. ‘Rainy days are the best kind. And I suppose I needed to get away. My father has been trying to marry me off to some rich family, though which one is anyone’s guess. It’s exhausting meeting potential husbands every day, and not one of them actually interested in meeting me. Just my father because it’s his choice and I will do what I’m told. Then I’ll get married to a man who is cold and cruel and just as happy to make me do what I’m told. I’m not ignorant enough to think I should be free to fall in love, the world isn’t that kind but shouldn’t we at least like each other? I don’t want to become my sister, married to a man who beats her with only the intention of filling her with a son…and now I’m ranting my problems to a stranger who only asked about the weather. I’m so sorry Nik-‘

‘I asked why you were walking, you answered. And I don’t think it’s an outrageous request to want to get along or a husband who will not beat you. A man should respect his wife, she is the one who will raise his children and give him a happy home to come back to every day, warm his bed yes but that should be more than one sided as well.’ You tried to hide your blush at the topic but he definitely noticed. ‘You’re a lovely women. You should be taken care of, and regardless of what a man is like with other men he should be a gentleman with his family. I’m sure your husband will prove to be a good man, at least to you.’ You smiled at that, his optimism being refreshing.

‘It’s a nice sentiment, though the man my father is meeting with now is trying to marry me off to an apparent madman. Of course those are just rumors, everyone deserves a fair chance.’ He looked stunned by your words as you sat yourself on the rock wall overlooking the ocean. It’s where you came to read often, it was peaceful and you loved watching the waves when it stormed.

‘You have a refreshing outlook on life. I like how sweet you are Y/n. Any man should be honored to have you, I know I would be.’ He sat beside you, kissing your hand once again, his blue eyes being the kind you want to get lost in for hours.

‘Well, I’m an optimist I guess. Besides, it’s not just him that’s a possibility. My father is meeting with someone else today, I suppose he feels slighted that I’ve been offered a second son, dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life but my father is nothing if not sensitive.’ You joked and while he laughed he looked…angry? He hid it quickly before standing and holding out his hand.

‘We should get you inside, it’s going to rain any second Princess.’ He walked you back to the castle in silence and while it wasn’t uncomfortable, you felt the need to ask as you got inside.

‘Have I offended you? If I have, you have my sincerest apologies my Lord, I don’t-‘

‘Nonsense! You have done nothing of the sort.’ He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and the way he looked at you was so…heavy. ‘Now, you go get yourself warmed up and dressed for dinner. I’m sure I will see you again in a bit.’ With that he bowed and was gone, leaving you to realize how late it really was and rush to get ready for dinner.

When you arrived you were greeted by your mother as your father spoke to a man who must be in his early 40s. Very close to his age at least. ‘Y/n, your father has invited both of your suitors, Lord Aslan and Lord Mikaelson to dinner tonight. He would like to speak with both of them freely and see which is the best match, please be on your best behavior?’ Your mother begged.

‘Please tell me that old man is my suitors father?’ Your mother looked at you with hard eyes and you knew to shut up as you all sat down to eat.

‘Should we wait for the Mikaelson’s?’ Your mother asked and father rolled his eyes.

‘Can’t even be on time for a potential alliance. How disgraceful.’ Lord Aslan spoke and now you rolled your eyes.

‘Apologies my Lord, my brother has had to leave, our sister is having a bit of trouble. I’m sorry for my tardiness.’ You know that voice.

‘We can understand that. Young women are a handful, I should know, my wife gave me 5.’ Everyone knows your father hates that your mother gave him so many girls before a boy but he still brings it up. You looked up to see Nik sitting in the chair across from you and smiled politely, but you’re sure he could see it didn’t reach your eyes. ‘Gentlemen, this is my daughter Y/n.’ You waved politely, Nik smiling while the man beside your father leered at you.

‘The pleasure is mine Princess.’ Lord Mikaelson greeted, the other man laughing suddenly and gaining everyone’s attention.

‘She’s not a Princess. A Lady, maybe, and a lovely one at that.’ You cringed, taking a drink from your cup and trying to ignore his eyes on you.

‘Every women should be treated as a Princess by her husband. Do you not agree my Lord? I’ve met many Princesses, they don’t hold a candle to you Darling.’ The blush is back and this time you can’t even pretend to hide it.

‘Thank you my Lord, you are sweet.’

The rest of dinner was your father speaking to Lord Aslan while he leered at you and you spoke to Nik back and forth, finding the rumors about him to be insane. He couldn’t hurt a fly. Or so you thought.

After they had left and you were getting ready for bed your father knocked on your door, letting himself in with a stern look on his face. ‘You behaved very rudely at dinner. You didn’t once try to speak to Lord Aslan.’

‘He was staring at my chest all night and he didn’t speak to me either, just you. He wants me to be his wife and doesn’t even want to know anything about me? No thank you. Besides, I loved speaking with Niklaus, he was sweet and he wanted to know me. I would much rather-‘ you were about to finish when your father cut you off with a hand around your throat, eyes angry and determined.

‘You think I care what you want? Your opinion means nothing to me child, it’s the men that matter and I will not be offended by being offered a second son for my youngest girl. I’m being given land and an army by Lord Aslan, plus a dowry that is worth much more than you. You’ll make yourself happy where ever I put you like a good daughter and a good wife! You are set to marry Lord Aslan in a fort night. That is all I will hear on the matter.’ When he stopped speaking he finally allowed you to breathe, pulling his hand away and watching you collapse to the floor, gasping for air. ‘Sleep daughter. You have lunch with your husband tomorrow and you must be presentable.’ With that he was gone and you were left alone to change into your night gown, holding a cold compress to the quickly forming bruises on your throat.

You were in too much pain to relax and sleep, every time you moved your neck or swallowed pain shot through your throat and didn’t leave you with the ability to get comfortable. You had finally given up trying and ended up on the loveseat with a book and an inability to stop the tears despite your pain. You were going to spend the rest of your life with a man who doesn’t care for you at all. Niklaus would move on and find a new wife, some lucky girl to have a good husband and a good life and you hate her. You were trying to calm yourself when you heard a knock on your French doors making you look up before it happened again. Quickly you wiped your face before moving to the doors to see a familiar face, waving casually.

‘What are you doing?’ You asked, opening the doors and allowing him to slip in and watching as he looked around your plain room.

‘I am to be your husband, I’m allowed to see my wife, aren’t I? I want to get to know you better before-we…why are you crying?’ You quickly wiped your face again and he stopped you, taking your hands in his and brushing the tears away.

‘Niklaus, you have to go. You can’t be here-‘

‘I will not have you cry, why are you upset, I can-‘

‘You can’t fix it! You are not going to be my husband! I told you, I’m not going to be married to a second son and what I want doesn’t matter! You need to leave, please? You’ll be killed if you’re found in here!’ You pushed at his chest but he didn’t budge, pulling you close and tilting your head up, inspecting the bruises on your neck gently. ‘My Lord-‘

‘Husband.’ He cut you off, clearly angry but not acting on it. ‘I’m sorry if you got confused Princess, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, your father seems to want to irritate me. There was no chance of any other man marrying you, I have already decided that you’re mine. You are not to worry about that, do you understand?’ He asked it so softly you felt like you were dreaming.

‘But my father-‘

‘Do. You. Understand?’ His eyes were a stormy blue, like a raging sea, impossible to tame but he never once made you feel like you were in danger with him.

‘I understand. But my father will never agree. He’s stubborn and cruel-‘

‘You haven’t seen cruel Princess…and you never will. I promise you that. And this-‘ he touched your neck softly, his eyes hardening when he looked at the bruises. ‘This will never happen to you again. Not in this lifetime, you are my wife, my Princess to protect and no one will ever harm you. No one will get close enough to try. Tomorrow you’ll go about your day like normal and not speak a word of this, then you will get the news that you are being married to me. Now come, Princess’ need sleep.’ He suddenly lifted you into his arms and carried you to your bed, tucking you into the blankets and holding your hand.

‘I can’t sleep. My neck hurts and I-‘

‘Shh.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle, reaching up to open your mouth and you didn’t fight him as he pored it onto your tongue, making you swallow. ‘Now relax, you’ll sleep just fine my darling. Don’t you worry about that.’ He pressed your hand to his face, kissing your palm and sighing, his stubble scratching your hand roughly. As he began standing your eyes fell, heavy with sleep and you felt a kiss on your cheek before you fell asleep.

You slept well into the next day and you were awoken by a maid just before lunch, helping you into a dress that covered the marks on your neck. You went to the gardens for your lunch but Lord Aslan never showed up.

Your father was furious for the rest of the day and you didn’t see him at dinner but your mother told you that he was in a meeting. Walking back to your bedroom that night you turned to see familiar blue eyes looking down at you, waiting outside your door. ‘Nik?’

‘Hello my darling wife.’ He pulled you close to his chest and into your room, the door shutting behind him. ‘Our wedding will be held in 2 days time, everything is being taken care of, you won’t have to lift one little finger. I want you to have the best wedding day ever.’

You pulled back, looking up at him confused. ‘I’m engaged already, he told me-‘

‘Your father is an idiot, and he knew not to cross me yet he did so anyway after finding out that I wanted you as my wife. That’s his problem. The other…I hesitate to call him a man, isn’t an issue anymore. He was found dead in his home this morning for looking at things that didn’t belong to him.’ You stared up at him in shock, not sure what to do. ‘I told you, I like how sweet you are and any man should feel honored to have you. I do, and I always will. I will protect my sweet girl until my dying day, and not once will your innocent eyes be forced to see anything even resembling violent. I know I’m not the best man, but I will take care of you love, and I will love you for the rest of eternity…do you want to be mine?’

You didn’t know what to say to that. ‘I’m already yours-‘

‘I will see to it that you live like a nun for the rest of your life if that’s what you choose, but I would much prefer you be mine. I love you Y/n, but it’s your choice.’ His honesty spoke volumes and I nodded my head without hesitation.

‘Yes. I want to be your wife…I love you too Nik.’

Klaus was the best husband she could have ever dreamed of and he was true to his word, she never saw any violence…even when she ordered it.

I Don’t Want a Crown Moodboard

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vhstown · 1 year ago

Text

time out (part 2)

[boxer au] — 42!miles g morales x gn!reader

summary: Miles Morales makes boxing history. Your boyfriend isn't there to celebrate.

warnings: angst-ish, hurt/comfort, fluff, description of (boxing) injuries, briefly implied death, gtranslate spanish

word count: 5.3k

a/n: editing this was actual torture. kind of becomes a song fic? song is dreamer by bobby bland if you wanna listen before u read lmao entirely not necessary tho. part 2 of 2 but i might write this au again in the future !

← PART 1 / THE AU

Boxing — you tried to be as well versed in it as possible, learning as many terms and moves and whatever else you could pick up from Aaron when he was helping Miles train for all those weeks. What you weren’t sure of, though, was if a “time out”, or a break, had to be this awkward. What you also weren’t sure of was what on Earth your boyfriend was thinking doing here at midnight training (or splitting his knuckles open, though you didn’t quite know the difference anymore,) right after his tournament had finished.

Regardless, there was nothing you could do about it. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just leave and “give him space” as you might’ve done before. The weather didn’t look like it was going to clear up anytime soon, and you had no signal or money; it wasn't like Miles would call a car for himself anyway — stubborn.

Miles was sat on the floor against a set of shelves with various things that belonged to Aaron, and you were on an unbearably stiff bench press seat, legs close together so you wouldn’t fall off and your jacket hung around the weight. Cold, uncomfortable, dead silent — the perfect atmosphere for a productive conversation, of course.

Truthfully, you had no idea what to say. Yeah, you’d just talked big game to your boyfriend and scolded him like his mother probably would’ve if she knew what the hell he was up to, but you hadn’t planned anything after that. Miles wasn’t a talker — not by any means. Right now, he was sat on the floor with his legs crossed, stretching uncomfortably on his elbows with his hands in awkward positions to try and not strain them too much. He hadn’t said anything, so you hadn’t said anything either, and now you were stuck without any words and too many thoughts.

It was a lot of unmet glances and quiet shivers, and you tried your best to kill the urge to just... lean over and hug him. As much as you missed him and wanted to let out everything you’d been feeling for the past couple of weeks, now wasn’t the best time — Miles probably couldn’t even hug you with those gnarly injuries anyway.

Miles’ eyes were dull and tired, fixed on the ground or maybe somewhere you couldn’t see. As usual, you couldn’t gauge anything from his expression besides mild annoyance. It was like a constant guessing game. First, why your texts weren’t going through, secondly, where the hell he was, and now you had to figure out why on Earth he was so frustrated. Your luck had ran out with those first two guesses, and his silence certainly didn’t help — again, not a talker. Not even a looker; he wasn’t stealing glances of you anymore, like he was thinking about something. If only you knew what.

The most you could guess was that this was about not winning — but it couldn’t just be that simple. Miles was stupid sometimes, but he wasn’t delusional — he knew that he probably couldn’t beat every single person in that championship when he was just starting to go professional. This wasn’t some kiddish, lofty dream Miles had either — he was serious from the day Aaron got him those gloves, which were now crumpled up in the corner next to you. He wouldn’t throw a fit over nothing.

It wasn’t right to force it out of him though, and you could still sense the stubbornness lingering in the crease between his brows. You resisted the urge to smooth it out with your thumb, instead just killing it with every other thought you deemed “selfish”. Apparently, waiting was just as much of a competitive sport at boxing.

The door rattled as icy drafts bit at your ankles and fingertips. It sounded like the sky was going to collapse from how intense the storm was growing. Miles was just in a tank top, his hoodie abandoned on the bar behind you. You figured he could get it himself; any sort of help always seemed pitying to him anyway.

“I’m training with uncle Aaron tonight — stay home.”

“I can handle myself. How else you think I got this far?”

“You ain’t comin’ to Vegas with me.”

You found yourself reaching for the hoodie anyway. Miles didn’t notice, of course, but you could see the goose bumps on skin even from this far away.

“Hey,” you muttered, making him look up. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up, or sulk some more?”

His mouth opened, but only to let out a breath, before silence fell between you again.

“Fine, I don’t… get it, or whatever.” You continued, fingers trailing into the sleeves of the hoodie. “But I don’t get how I’m supposed to when you’re not talking to me.”

“There’s nothing to get.” It was like you had Vegas between you two again — like he wasn’t even here.

The fabric of the hoodie was warm, and a part of you didn’t feel like letting go of it — if only your boyfriend was in the hoodie too.

“I don’t get why you’d box without wraps, for one.”

“I’m just… frustrated,” he yielded, albeit unhelpfully. “‘S nothing serious, promise.”

Serious enough to have your fingers hanging on by a thread. You noticed his thumb nursing the blackened skin around his knuckles, and his expression seemed even more distant than it was before. It was always some impossible game, and you hadn’t lost, but were drained and out of words for now.

Maybe he’d figure it out for himself; you weren’t too convinced of that. Despite that, it was getting annoying to hear the constant howling of wind and rain outside. Walking over to the shelf, you dropped the hoodie in Miles’ lap. You doubted he had even looked at you, but you didn’t need him to. Right now, you needed something to fill this boring, cold and wordless room.

Looking through the shelves behind Miles, you noticed a picture: a much younger Aaron wearing boxing gloves, a medal around his neck and standing next to someone you assumed to be Miles' dad. You'd never looked at any of the pictures close up, but you noticed there were a lot of old pictures like that, before finding Aaron's collection of records.

Taking the first one out, you put it into the player and carefully set the needle, glancing at the name of the song. His taste in music wasn’t exactly popular, but you’d rather listen to “DREAMER” than “inconveniently timed Brooklyn storm” right now.

Letting out a sigh of your own, you slumped down next to him as he pulled the hoodie over his head, arms going back to being crossed.

"~Dreamer... dreamer... Like a fool, I thought that it could be..." Of course it was a sad song. Blues? The haunting melody made you feel blue. It made the cold feel more numbing than biting on your skin. It made you feel, in general — what, you couldn’t really place.

“…Are we okay?” you muttered without much thought. The urge to talk had come back, and you hadn’t decided if you regretted speaking yet.

"~Dream on... dream on... surely someone, will understand me..."

Miles let out a breath, and it felt like you were exchanging more sighs than words. “Yeah. I just… ‘S not you.”

No “promise”, though. Did that make it more or less honest?

"~What do I say, when I've, oh, said too much? I think by now, I'm wastin' time..."

“...I love you, y’know?” you continued, hating how out of place it sounded. It was as useless as that text you tried to send, but you were tired, and missed your boyfriend, and wished he would give you even a glance.

“~I'm going… oh Lord I'm gone…”

“Love you too,” he mumbled in reply. It wasn’t very reassuring, and it didn’t seem like it to him either, because he reached out to brush your hand against his. You took his hand first — gently, and his thumb pressed into your palm in a sort of silent apology.

You hated how futile it was, and how much you craved it again. You hated you couldn’t be even a little mad at him, and how you were defending him to yourself. Maybe you were both in the wrong. No — you weren’t wrong, you were trying to be understanding.

You weren’t wrong for feeling this way, were you?

“~You are the absence, of my mind…”

You hated how much you missed that boy from all those months ago — even though he was right in front of you. It didn’t feel like Miles Morales was yours anymore, he was theirs — whoever “they” were. His competitors, his managers, the media… It was like there was no trace of the Miles you knew before. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t deny it anymore: that Miles had a dream, and you probably weren’t in it. You hated how you took it so personally.

And you hated how you reached out to hug him, despite all of that.

It was just you for a moment, and you were about to pull away before his arms wrapped loosely around the small of your back.

You hated how you hid your face over his shoulder, and how nice it felt. You hated how warm he was, and how the room was freezing.

You hated how familiar this was.

“~Lord, dreamer… dreamer…”

“Sorry, cariño. Didn’t mean to be an asshole.” Miles’ fingertips dragged uselessly over your back, and you shamelessly tightened your arms around him as he pressed his cheek into yours. You might’ve shed a tear, if it weren't for how heavy your eyes were already with the late hour. Neither of you could go home yet, though you weren’t sure if you wanted to right now.

“~Like a fool… I thought, well, that it could be…”

The long sigh you let out was followed by Miles’ own quiet one before he kissed you on the cheek. His breath warmed your frigid face and brushed at your heart, as he always did. You wished you could be upset, overreact, scream at his face, tell him how you felt all this time. It just always had to end with forgiveness, because now, you couldn’t even remember what you had felt.

And you hated it — not as much as you’d like.

Closing your eyes, you buried your head into his hoodie while the music, the storm and the sound of your own breathing blurred together in your mind. All you were left with were your own thoughts.

This boxing thing didn’t involve you — it never did. He didn’t want you there to see him, or even tell you he was home from Vegas, and now it felt like he was just putting up with you here. It felt like you and him were on opposite sides of the pavement, only walking together to share the same umbrella. He just didn’t want you to get soaked — or hurt.

“I told you not to come today… I’m walkin’ you home.”

He didn’t want you to expect too much.

“Nah, you don’t need to see me train. It’s borin’ as hell.”

He didn’t want you to give up on him.

“I’ll make it big — promise.”

He wanted his dream — did he still want you?

“Just be patient with me, cielo.”

Patient, huh? If only you could be like Rio. It felt like you were just as bad as Miles. Maybe you were — both just as bad as each other.

“Why didn’t you text me? …At all?” Muffled against his hoodie, you hoped your voice didn’t waver. It felt a little manipulative, even if it wasn’t in the slightest, but you couldn’t keep telling yourself things were all good. Miles had been avoiding you, whether that was intentional or not. You were just being open — trying to be open. You hope he’d try too.

The boy in question was silent, before he pulled away, hands lingering at your sides.

“I was…” Miles took in a breath, voice dying out for a moment. “Look, I…”

“~Down the wrong way, on a one way street…”

“I can’t be a boxer anymore.”

It felt like the rain had gone quiet. There was no need for an umbrella between you two anymore. It felt like you’d closed it yourself, walking to the opposite side of the pavement again, watching him and the dull, empty sky from afar.

You were the one that asked him — you wanted him to speak to you, and now you weren’t even sure what to say.

“~You'd think by now, I would have learned…”

“What do you mean…?”

“My contract got terminated.” His voice sounded forced, strangely robotic. Was that what you so wanted to get from him?

“Can’t you just… get signed by somebody else?”

“There is nobody else. I had a contract with Norman Osborn — he basically owns boxing.”

“~I saw a little, but I learned even less…”

Your heart dropped a little — you wouldn’t let it drop any more than that. It made sense why Miles was so excited back then if he got signed by someone like that. Now, that excitement meant nothing. All you could think of was that video, that interview…

“I jus’ hope you watchin’, cause I’m here. Miles Morales made it!”

So he’d just… given up? Miles had given up? Was that it? The end of it?

Boxer or not, you suddenly had the urge to punch him — maybe even punch yourself. It didn’t even matter who was right and who was wrong anymore, because you didn’t even know who was in front of you. It was almost uncanny to see Miles like this, so dejected; that’s what he’d been feeling all this time. As much as it seemed like he was mad at you, or was avoiding you, or lying to you, it was never really about you.

Miles was refusing to let go of his dream — of himself — until right now.

And you didn’t know what overcame you at that moment. Maybe it was Rio’s words, or the fact that Aaron wasn’t here, or the fact that you felt like you’d lost your boyfriend — if he wasn’t going to be stubborn about it anymore, you sure as hell were.

“So you’re telling me nobody else is gonna sign you? At all? You haven’t even looked?”

“You don’t get it, ‘s more complicated than—”

“Baby, look at me for a sec.” Your hand was on his shoulder with more confidence than common sense, eyes were square with his avoidant, dull, hopeless gaze. You haven’t ever seen Miles hopeless before. You couldn’t let him be if it was the last thing you did. “You, Miles Gonzalo Morales—”

“Aight, you don’t need the full name.”

“I do need it, because my whole ass boyfriend changed boxing history.” Frankly, you had no idea what you were saying; it felt like you were shooting in the dark, but you didn’t care if you sounded a little stupid, or over-the-top, because if that’s what it took to get your boyfriend to crack even a little… “His 'legendary left jab'—”

“Babe, where the hell did you get that from?” The look he was giving you was probably more of a “jab” than anything.

“…The news.” The corner of your mouth quirked up despite your best efforts, face pricking with heat as you remembered reading through that Bugle article like it was divine revelation. A little stupid, a little over-the-top, sure, but it was true.

Miles’ lips pressed together, and your face heated more trying to decipher his expression. You didn’t have to, because the snicker that escaped his throat was enough make all the rain and thunder and lighting, and even the song insignificant.

“~I only learn to regret…”

“Miles, I’m serious,” you muttered, rather unseriously, brows furrowing as you tried to smooth out the meekness on your face.

“Legendary?” There was a hint of his usual mirth in his tone, and you tried not to be bothered by it. Anything was better than seeing Miles like that: ridiculous, over-the-top, unserious, but not hopeless.

“Look, it was the Bugle, okay? Some millennial wrote that — like, some lady called Mary.”

“Why do you even remember that?” Anything that could come to mind, you’d tell him. No more silence. Just be yourself. Keep talking.

“I read it, like, a lot, okay? I was really proud of you and I just…”

The smirk fell fast from Miles’ face, and you held back any words you might’ve had. The rain eased back in as a constant patter against the windows — the silence had come back despite your efforts. Your heart started to sink a little again, but all you could offer was an awkward smile.

“You’re proud?” he asked, like you’d just lied to his face.

“Yeah…? I always am, but seeing you make it so far…” It was something you didn’t say enough, you realised. The words echoed in your mind as you found the confidence to look at him.

“…Miles Morales made it, right?”

Another tiny breath left Miles, his eyes closing for a moment as you waited for him to speak. You wanted to backtrack, maybe hope the rain would die down soon so you two could leave — you had sort of snuck out… That wasn’t the point, though. You weren’t sure what the point was right now, and you weren’t sure what he was thinking, as always — again.

His lips pressed to your forehead, and then your forehead was against his chest — somehow.

You still had no idea what he was thinking. Now you had no idea what he was feeling — or what you were feeling.

The room was freezing, but you were sure you were slowly setting on fire. Traces of the awkward smile you had were stuck on your face as your cheek pressed into the fabric of his hoodie, and suddenly every little thing you’d thought about saying to him had disappeared in its entirety.

“Dios (God), am I a dumbass…” he murmured to himself. With no clue what to do, you could only focus on the hesitance in the way he held you close, because of his injuries, you weren’t sure. His fingers were cold, like the air was. You didn’t hate the warmth this time.

The silence returned again, and instead of your heart sinking, it was fluttering wildly. You so wanted to take it in your hands and hold it still, but you couldn’t even hold Miles back.

He did this sort of thing often — used to do this often, when he was stressed for whatever reason. He wouldn’t say if he was, but you could always tell. Sometimes he’d ask, and right now, he didn’t, but it wasn’t like you ever refused; it was nice, safe, and away from the storm — close.

"~Surely someone, will understand me..."

He kissed the top of your head, like he was hoping you’d understand.

If only you could. If only you could understand why your boyfriend couldn’t see it — see how far he’d come, how much he’d achieved, how proud he should be of himself, how neither of you should be here right now.

If only Rio was here to tell him how proud she was. Or Aaron. Or his dad.

You never really knew his dad. You knew he’d be proud, at least. He'd probably be beaming seeing how far his son Miles had come, like he did in those pictures with Aaron.

You were proud too. Did that count for anything? Would that change anything? It wouldn’t get him another contract.

You wanted to squeeze his hand, but that was a stupid idea considering the state of it. A lot of your ideas felt stupid as of late. None of them would get him another contract.

It felt like a lot more than just the contract, though; maybe that's why it was so hard. If only he’d tell you.

But waiting wasn’t a game, or a competitive sport. It was nothing like boxing; there was no winner. Waiting was a choice — a promise, that you’d be there when he was ready.

“Just be patient with me, cielo.”

You wondered if he’d ever be ready.

"~Dream on, baby."

You wrapped your arms around him, finally. At the very least, you promised to hold him, if not before, then now. He tightened his grip too, just mariginally.

“I’m sorry, mi cielo.” he started, voice barely audible. “I swear, I didn’t know you actually…” Miles trailed off, resting his chin on the top of your head instead.

“Cared?” you suggested, wondering if he could hear you. “It’s a lot more than that.”

You felt his chest fall as he let out a sigh. “I know.”

“I want you to know.”

“I do, I just… I’m being real dumb and—” You squeezed your arms around him before he could finish his sentence; no more avoidance. What you were going to say after, you didn’t know.

“…What?” His voice was suddenly soft, controlled. It was like he could hear what was going on in your head.

“You ever…" You moved your head away from his chest slightly, so he could hear better. "You ever had a stage name in mind?”

It was the only thing you could think to ask, though you didn’t ask it with much thought at all. Still, things weren't going to go anywhere if you kept dodging the subject.

Miles was silent for more than just a moment — it was enough to guess he did have one. “...Why?”

“Cause… when you get back in the ring, people gotta know you right?” It wasn’t just blind optimism — you decided that you did really believe in him. They weren’t going to see the end of someone like him, not by a long shot — or a legendary left jab. Your boyfriend was one hell of a boxer; it wouldn't just stop here — no way.

“I mean, '17-year-old from NYC' isn’t exactly catchy,” you continued, despite his silence.

Just one loss before so many wins. At his age, a win, against a “long-time champion” no less, was worth a million times more than that Norman guy’s contract, no matter how much of a big-shot he was.

“You think I’m gettin’ signed?” They’d be stupid not to.

“I know you’re getting signed.” Rio's words came back to you, and despite your hesitance, you found yourself saying: “If not, I’ll sign you and go to Vegas myself.”

Patient — like his mom, but also with that fighting spirit. You realised you had to be on his level too — match his energy, his enthusiasm. He’d spent long enough being on his own.

“...Fine, fine,” he shrugged. The edge in his tone seemed to fade as he thought for a moment. “If you’re signin’ me, you’re signin’… The Prowler.”

Miles loved boxing? Screw it, you loved boxing too. You loved boxing more than him, in fact — because it was a part of him. And even when he didn’t love his dream so much, you’d be there to love it for him. He loved all of you, and you loved all of him. That was still true now, even if he was going through something not so lovely.

And soon, you’d have something else to love too. Something new.

“The Prowler,” you repeated, a smile of your own creeping up on your face. “…You sure?” The groan Miles let out was enough to curb your need to annoy him… with love.

“Cariño…" he mumbled. "You ask just to make fun of me?” Miles shook his head, and you just squeezed him around the waist again.

“No, no way. I wanna welcome you to the team, Prowler.” A few firm pats on his back got him to laugh again, and though it was barely, that moment felt worth all those weeks.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m a hundred percent serious. You and your 'legendary left jab' and all.”

“You…” The hint of a smile was in his voice, and his good hand came to pull you closer, pressing the two of you flush against each other.

“Me…?” Your voice was muffled as you rested against the hollow of his neck, feeling the vibrations of his voice as he spoke.

“Can’t believe you’re still here.” It sounded more like he was talking to himself, speaking under his breath. The way it came out, it seemed like something he'd wanted to say for a while.

“Why would I leave?” Why would you ever leave?

“No clue.”

His good hand found your face, and you turned your head a bit so it wouldn't be so awkward to reach it.

“Don't know why I ever thought that.”

You felt his thumb run across your cheek, before pulling away and tilting your face up to meet his eyes.

“Damn, you're beautiful,” he murmured, dipping his head down to bump your nose with his, stoic expression and all. You were just about able to keep your composure.

“You trying to make it up to me with flattery?” It wasn’t like he had much to make up for — in your eyes, at least. The tease made his eyes narrow, but the ghost of a smile was on his lips.

“I can make it up to you a hell of a lot better than that.”

“Morales,” you warned, thought it didn't come out much like a warning. Especially not with how quietly you said it, your face so close to his.

“What?” It was his turn to be annoying. “Lo imaginé…” (I thought so…) You weren't sure you minded it.

It was nice to be joking, and flirting, and close again. There was no need to protest right now — no reason to pretend to be mad. His arm shifted to search for your hand, and you unconsciously laced your fingers together as your faces drew closer. You were already squeezing his hand before—

“Aye…!” Miles hissed, slipping his hand away as you both remembered the nasty, loud bruise that was spreading across his hand. His left hand, you realised, was the one he’d injured — it wasn’t exactly legendary now.

“Sorry…” you muttered, lips pressing together tightly as you took in the sight again. “But that was your fault."

Miles frowned at you almost incredulously as he held his own hand. “Nuh-uh.”

“Time out, Morales.” You couldn’t help it. Or help the smile on your face.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” You kissed his cheek to really rub it in. No more words from him, it looked like.

After a moment more of silence, and watching Miles nurse his own hand, you spoke up again. “…Are you gonna go back? To boxing?” Miles looked back at you, before nodding.

“Yeah. Eventually, I guess...” He let out a sigh, but it seemed like one of fatigue rather than frustration. You blinked away your own tiredness that was creeping back. "As the Prowler.”

“Got a lot of… prowling to do, then.” He pursed his lips at you in contempt, and you gave him a meek look in return. As much as you made fun of the name, it was pretty cool. “When are you thinking?”

“I’ll wait a little. ‘S too soon." Miles put his less-brutalised hand on your knee, looking at you a bit more earnestly. "Gotta make it up to you, first.”

“Obvio.” (Obviously) You tried hiding your smirk this time, but he caught it anyway.

“Driving me crazy for no reason,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head. The few times you did speak Spanish, it usually wasn't to be sweet.

“A good crazy?” you tried, hoping he'd humour you a little. Maybe he could find it sweet?

“Ni hablar.” (No way.)

Sweet enough to kiss you, anyway. With his better hand, he held the side of your face by his fingertips, pressing a short, chaste kiss to your lips. The feeling was warmer than anything, and you were left with a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as he pulled away.

“Te amo (I love you),” he whispered with his own shred of a smile. You caught a glint in his eye before his expression faded into that same serious look. “I'll fix up, I promise.”

“No need to promise." With your thumb, you finally smoothed the crease between his brows — an old, shared habit. It made his expression soften a little. "Cause you will, and you’ll make it even further next time.”

“Right,” he agreed, hand still lingering by your jaw. “I will. Gimme a time out if I don’t.” A laugh escaped your mouth at that.

"Sure." You met him with your own chaste kiss, your heart swelling as you felt him smile a little against your lips. “I love you too, by the way.”

The record had stopped playing, ages ago, you noticed, and there was another stretch of silence. Total silence, actually — it had stopped raining entirely.

“We should probably head back,” Miles stated as he looked out the window with you, before getting up with a bit of a groan. The two of you needed rest, especially him.

“Yeah,” you murmured, reaching for your jacket. “I mean, I sort of… snuck out.”

His silence made you turn back, only to be met with an unamused look. You tried not to laugh again. “So you’re sayin’ we’re both dead.”

“Pretty much.” He rolled his eyes at your sheepish smile, but you caught the corner of his mouth lift up as he turned to the door. It wasn't like the two of you hadn’t snuck out before — this was just like all those other times, just more… unplanned.

The night time air was strangely cool and breathable as you left the warehouse. Though the concrete was slippery, and you and Miles had to hold onto each other to not fall, Brooklyn was glimmering almost ethereally by the moonlight, the sky clear with any lingering clouds now gone. You hooked your arm in Miles' arm, his hands loosely tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. He’d have some explaining to do to his mom about his hands, and you’d have to creep back into your apartment as quietly as possible — but right now, in the silence hum of the city, you felt that things would be okay. Maybe they weren’t excellent, or ideal right now, but okay was a good start. The Prowler was a thing of the future, albeit near future. Right now, it was just you and Miles Morales, going home together past your curfews.

Ping! Ping Ping Ping Ping Ping Ping—

Way past your curfews.

At the same time, the two of you pulled your phones out, only to be bombarded with notifications of missed calls and texts. You were a short distance away from the warehouse now, and your phones had only just gotten signal. It was 1:02am, and you had walls of texts asking you where the hell you were and to "get your ass home right now" on your lock screen. Miles gritted his teeth, and you didn't want to think about what Rio had to say.

As the pinging died down, your eyes met, the both of you thinking the exact same thing:

“We’re so dead.”

You shot a quick message back and mental prayer, Miles doing the same before hastily linking arms with you again. He returned your sheepish look with his own as the two of you kept walking, trying not to slip in the puddles. It had already been a long night, and it was about to get way longer, but at least you could have each other’s company.

"~All my life, been a dreamer..."

"~Dream on... dream on..."

After all, you could guess that a lot more than just a “time out” was waiting for you at home.

"~Maybe somewhere... maybe somewhere..."

🕸️🔭👾

↑ the song! bobby bland 🔛🔝

felt a bit empty without a message hi this is vee it is midnight and i have to go to school in less than 8 hours ! thriving !!!! also if you're interested i have a post about just the au itself here <3

taglist (ppl who asked anyway 😭): @iissza

reblogs appreciated (like so much i literally melt and die) catch the rest of my atsv stuff here!

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tkaulitzlvr · 11 months ago

Note

Hi! :3

I had an idea for a request

I thought of a tom x reader loosely based on "Hungover you"

like him and reader being best friends and somewhere along the line they spend a night together, but decide to forget it for the sake of their friendship (maybe they were a little drunk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ who knows)

then many years later they're still friends but they realise that they really love each other

even if you don't write this i wanted to tell you i think your writing is amazing! don't feel pressured to make content, I'm sure all of your followers don't mind waiting for your fics because they are really amazing!

aa sorry for the long text! <3

IT’S YOU - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: they say feelings change with time, but yours couldn’t have stayed closer to the same. it has been three years since you hooked up with tom, and despite your promise to forget about it for the sake of your friendship, you can’t ignore the way you feel anymore.

content: smut (kinda) & fluff

a/n: thankyou soo much!! i put a christmas twist on this because i realised i haven’t made an xmas fic yet i hope that’s okay! pls be patient w me bc apparently i should spend every hour of every day writing fics according to some people… just to be clear this is a hobby and nothing more. i don’t get paid for this LMAOO sometimes i don’t want to write and that’s okay - most people are really understanding so thank you for that, but on a more positive note merry christmas i hope u all have a happy holidays!!!💗

the faint smell of gingerbread teases my senses, mind beyond overstimulated with the incomprehensible blur of conversations around me - the amount of alcohol in my system clearly not helping. every inch of the living room is pasted with the not so subtle reminder of the festive season: warm lights casting their glow across the walls, garlands decorated with small red and green baubles, though the most obvious sign sits in the corner of the room. adorned with baubles in every colour possible, with tinsel (quite messily) stretched across its dark green branches, multi-coloured lights twinkling dimly around it, reminding me why i love this time of year so much.

the chaos of the annual christmas party that had become tradition over the years never became something that i had gotten used to, the dull buzz in my stomach (admittedly from the alcohol too) never going away as i watch my surroundings, friends laughing obnoxiously loudly whilst their hands tear away the intricately decorated paper, revealing their presents.

“and this one is for you.” tom says, snapping me out of my daze as he reaches underneath the tree from where he sits beside me, returning with a small box in his hands. he passes it over to me, a proud smile on his face as i study the wrapping. a red bow placed messily on top, the wrapping paper creased at the sides, the tape used to hold it in place hanging off.

“did you wrap this?” i stifle a laugh, remembering how terrible my best friend is at anything remotely technical, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

“yeah, why?” he seems genuinely proud, and i decide to give him that sense of fulfilment, ignoring that a child probably could have done a better job.

“nothing, nothing. it’s great.” i return my eyes to the present, hands moving to tear away the paper. tom’s eyes remain glued onto me, excitedly awaiting my reaction. i open the box inside, revealing a gold necklace, a small locket in its centre. my mouth falls open, fingers carefully lifting the jewellery from its box, eyes studying it in awe before i turn my attention to tom.

“are you kidding me? it’s beautiful, oh my god!”

an even wider smile rests on his face at my reaction, his leg bobbing up and down nervously. he gestures to the locket as i turn my attention back to it, thumb clicking it open. tom and i. the picture in the centre shows tom and i, far younger, far more innocent than we are now. cheesy grins plastered on our faces, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders as we look into the camera, wrapped up in our huge winter coats - standard for the weather in germany.

“i don’t even know what to say i- thank you.” i smile, reaching over and wrapping my arms around his frame. he seems taken aback, though soon returns the gesture, his arms resting on my upper back, hand patting it slowly.

“you’re welcome. i hope you like it.” he offers me a warm smile as we pull away, soon turning his eyes toward the rest of the room, watching as bill unwraps his present from georg.

hours have passed, and even if i tried, i don’t think i could come close to counting the amount of drinks i’ve had. i am beyond tipsy, swaying my head to the cheesy christmas songs that play from the tv whilst attempting to sing the lyrics - failing miserably as my voice comes out slurred and inaudible.

“you sound terrible.” tom’s voice, just as slurred as my own, causes me to stop my singing, turning to face him as he sits beside me, finishing off the remainder of whatever drink he has in his glass.

“thanks.” i mumble, grabbing the glass from his hands and shoving the last few drops down my throat, no longer flinching at its bitter taste. the room seems to become emptier, friends either leaving or finding a bedroom upstairs to sleep in, the darkness from outside reminding me that it is probably the early hours of the morning.

“they’re no fun.” i roll my eyes, pointing to the final few people walking out of the room tiredly, leaving tom and i alone. he hums in agreement as i reach forward, grabbing the half-empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table and pouring it into my mouth, taking a few large swigs. the faint burning in the back of my throat quickly subsides, prompting me to drink some more.

“lets play a game.” tom says from beside me, a loud giggle leaving my mouth at his sudden request.

“a game? what are we twelve?” i laugh, shaking my head and taking another drink, swirling the liquid that is still in the bottle around. “what game?”

“i don’t know, truth or dare?” he shrugs his shoulders, clearly not thinking straight. though i am in no position to judge him, the two of us too intoxicated to be able to think rationally.

“there’s only two of us though. that’s gonna be pretty fucking boring, don’t you think?”

he doesn’t respond, only shrugging his shoulders once again, prompting me to give in. i sit cross legged opposite him, signalling for him to go first.

“truth or dare?”

“hmmm….truth.” i mumble drunkenly, laughing to myself as my body sways to the side a little, almost falling completely off of the couch and onto the hard wood floor. he pauses, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips as he appears to think as deeply as his intoxicated state allows him to, his eyebrows raising as he finally thinks of an idea.

“have you ever had a crush on anyone at this party?” he asks, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands, chuckling quietly to himself.

“bill, like four years ago.” i shrug nonchalantly, taking another swig from the bottle. if i were even remotely sober, i would have come up with some completely unbelievable lie, though the alcohol gives me the sudden confidence to confess, this a secret which i had silently vowed to take to the grave - until now.

“my brother? are you kidding?” his laughter is much louder this time, the room filled with it as he clutches his chest, eyes squeezing shut. at one point, i swear i see tears fall down his cheeks, my hand reaching to swat his chest, the effort pathetic as the alcohol appears to take away every ounce of physical strength.

we continue the game for another thirty minutes, the questions becoming more senseless as time passes, the dares even more abnormal as i sit with my small mini skirt off of my body and on the ground somewhere, tom now shirtless. the sober versions of ourselves would be watching in pure shame, though in the moment, this is the funniest thing we have ever done, drunken laughter pouring from our lips at every word that we say.

“your turn.” tom begins. “truth or dare?”

“dare.”

i expect him to think deeply about what to do, about ways to humiliate me in the worst way possible, taking advantage of the fact that he is in control, possessing the ability to make me do whatever his heart desires. but not only is he much quicker this time, his mind seemingly made up the second i had uttered the four letter word, his reply is one that i could never had been prepared for. though my drunken state brushes it off, unable to question, let alone refuse his demand.

“i dare you…to kiss me.”

i giggle quietly at his statement, widening my eyes in forged surprise and tucking my hair behind my ears, tom’s lips curved into a soft smirk as i slowly shuffle toward him. my legs wrap around his waist, arms wrapping loosely around his neck as his own rest around my waist. our faces are inches apart, small chuckles still leaving our lips as i situate myself comfortably, losing my balance and falling forward, my body collapsing onto his chest.

“whoops.” i mumble, bursting into laughter as tom does the same, trying to pick me back up as his hands place themselves onto my shoulders, pushing me upward so that i sit on his lap once again. though once i regain my balance, the small smile that rests on tom’s lips soon disappears, the laughter replaced by a heavy silence, thick with unexpected tension. his hands rest more firmly on my waist now, face seeming to get closer and closer to my own, so close that his breath fans onto my face, lips ghosting just below my nose.

his eyes look into mine, darkened and filled with lust, almost questioning whether he should make the move. the alcohol is still in charge, still the thing that fuels both tom’s and my own decision making, but behind the drunkenness, i see the real tom, and somewhere amidst the blur of alcohol and lust, i can tell that he is fighting with himself. though after a few seconds, the decision is made, seemingly with little debate as he pushes his lips onto mine harshly, taking my bottom lip between his teeth. the kiss is sloppy, messy, irrational, everything that it should be, fuelled by alcohol and unforeseen desire. but whether it is the bottle of vodka i had just drank talking, or the genuine need that only grows as each second passes, it feels right.

and tom’s actions show that he feels the same way. from our clothes being impatiently pulled off of our bodies, lips tangled in a heated mess, to his dick being inside me, something within me tells me that this should be happening, even if our drunken state is the cause.

“fuck…you feel so good.” he groans from above me, maintaining a steady pace, his words still slurred. sweat lines his body, starting at his forehead, his dreads resting on his shoulders, trailing down to his torso. and as i watch him move in and out of me, i take a second to admire his body - his skin, biceps, the way each muscle flexes slightly when he thrusts into me, my mind wondering how it had taken me this long to realise how hot he is. sure, i had known that he was attractive, his overly obsessive fans made that clear enough, but it had taken him being totally naked on top of me to realise that they have been right this entire time, and god, i want nothing more than this moment to last forever.

“i’m getting close.” he mumbles from above me, his head moving to rest in the crook of my neck, placing rough kisses there as his tongue moves across the skin in place of his mouth. when his dick begins to twitch inside of me, i soon realise that it can’t last forever, that in a few minutes, or when the alcohol wares off, we will have to go back to normal, to act like he didn’t just fuck me - his best friend of over ten years.

his head returns from my shoulder, a loud groan escaping his lips as i feel him shoot his cum inside of me, his eyes squeezing shut, lips slightly parted as he curses under his breath. and it doesn’t take long for my own release to follow, the loud moan that sounds from the back of my throat muffled by tom’s lips as he presses them onto my own, mumbling a quick ‘shhh’ against me. he rides out our highs, pulling out after a minute and collapsing on top of me, tired and breathless. we lay in silence, tom occasionally pressing quick kisses onto my shoulder, our bodies completely spent.

despite how little we speak about it, that night stays clear in my memory, able to remember it like it was yesterday, even though today marks three years since we did something that should have changed our friendship forever. sure, it was awkward for a little while after, but after the mutual decision to put it behind us ‘for the sake of our friendship’, blaming it purely on the alcohol, we had moved on, maintaining our close bond that had existed since we were kids. it seemed to special to ruin, too important to destroy for the sake of the possibility of falling in love, knowing that it would be too risky to pursue something, the small yet very real chance that it wouldn’t work out holding the ability to ruin our friendship forever.

but god, i would be stupid to deny the way my heart tugs at its strings whenever i see him, whenever i hug him in a way that is strictly platonic, wondering if somewhere he feels the same way as i do.

“you okay?” a voice snaps me out of my train of thought, my head turning to its source as tom’s brown eyes look into my own, a small smile on his face. i quickly nod my head, turning away and focusing on gustav as he takes a present from under the tree, flashing me a smile once he realises that it is from me.

tom doesn’t give in though, his voice interrupting my own from beside me as i am in the process of listening to gustav, a smile on his face whilst he thanks me for his gift.

“you sure?” tom asks, his voice low and uncertain, expression bordering confused when i forge a smile, reassuring him that i am fine, knowing that i am far from it, the reminder that three years ago things were so different still acting as a raw wound, despite how easily tom had seemed to get over it.

“no you’re not. come on.” he takes my hand, guiding me out of the room as i turn around, hoping that nobody had noticed, sighing in relief when i realise that they are all immersed in their own conversations. tom guides me into the kitchen, moving me so that my body is against the counter, his own in front of me, stopping me from leaving.

“what are you doing? the party is out there, bill was about to open the gift i got for him.” i furrow my eyebrows, attempting to leave the kitchen, though tom’s hand is quick to place itself on my wrist gently, pulling me back to rest against the counter.

“i can tell when you’re not okay. something is bothering you. what’s wrong?” his voice is much more serious this time, no longer holding that playful tone that it had before.

i sigh, breaking eye contact and staring at the ground, fingers reaching to play with the material of my christmas sweater, trying anything to distract myself from the tears that begin to pool at my waterline. i know that i can’t escape from this now, becoming aware that even if i attempt to lie, tom will see right through it.

“come on, you can talk to me you know? i’m your best friend-”

“that’s the fucking problem.” i mumble, silently cursing myself the second the words leave my mouth, praying that they were quiet enough for tom to not understand them. though when his eyebrows furrow, head tilting to the side, i quickly realise that he got every word. his mouth opens to speak, only for a few seconds as he closes it again, mind working faster than it ever has before, working to think of a response.

“what do you mean?” he asks eventually, my eyes meeting his own. his gaze softens when he registers the tears that fall down my cheeks. he reaches forward, his arms trying to wrap around my frame and pull me into a hug, though i refuse his embrace, not able to handle the emotional torture of another hug, knowing that it will never mean anything more than means of comfort, rather than an act of affection out of love. his eyebrows furrow in confusion when i push him away gently, his tongue moving outward to swipe against his lip ring, fingers adjusting the bandana that adorns his jet black braids - the one thing that is different about him since that day.

“why do you act like nothing happened?” i ask, my voice low and weak, eyes finally finding the courage to meet his own. he stays silent, knowing exactly what i am talking about without even mentioning it directly. because no matter how much we act like it never happened, i know that both of us will never be able to forget it, even if he acts like he has. i take his silence as i sign to continue, taking the opportunity to get this off of my chest. “you act like that night never happened, and it fucking infuriates me. you speak to me, you look at me, you hug me, but it’s not the same anymore. you can try and act like you don’t remember it, but i fucking can’t. i can’t sit back anymore and act normal around you knowing that we did it. and then you stand here and call me your fucking friend. it kills me that you don’t even care, that it means nothing at all to you-”

he cuts me off, though not with his voice. not with a quick remark, not with a reminder that we are just friends, that we can never be anything more; but with his lips, pressing them to my own. they are soft, just as i had remembered them, the coldness of his lip ring just as addictive as it had been the first time. and though it only lasts a few seconds before he pulls away, it still ignites that spark within me that had been lifeless since we had promised to forget about what had happened. his forehead rests against mine, hands pulling my body against his own as he wraps his arms around my waist.

“who said that i don’t care about what happened, hm?” his face remains inches away from mine, his hands reaching upward to wipe the tears that rest on my cheeks. he doesn’t pull back, instead pressing my body against his once again. “i think about it, all the time. and every single time, i think about what could have happened if we didn’t push it aside, if we actually acted on it. but then i remind myself that you didn’t want that, and i can’t lose you. so i just decided to not speak about it. but don’t think for a second that i forgot.”

i stay silent, unsure of what to say, trying to fathom what his confession truly means. is he saying that he feels the same way, or was the kiss out of pity, one to stop the tears that continue to fall?

“what are you saying?” i whisper, pursing my lips and looking at the floor, breaking eye contact once again. though it is only short lived, my eyes soon returning to look at his own as he lifts my face up, his hands now resting on either side of it.

“i’m saying that i don’t want to be just your best friend anymore. i don’t think my heart can handle that.”

my eyes widen, mouth opening to speak, finding myself at a loss for words as no sound escapes. once again, tom’s actions seem to speak louder than any words would have been able to, his arms scooping me up as he kisses me once again. it is gentler this time, lacking the lust behind that it had the first time we had kissed. it holds much more meaning behind it than just drunken desire. this time, it carries the silent promise of every single thing that i have ever wanted since that night - love.

“you know…i wasn’t totally shitfaced when i asked you to kiss me that night.” he says once he pulls away, a playful smile now tugging on his lips. i shake my head, pulling him by his shirt and kissing him once again. he smiles into the kiss, quickly reciprocating as he moves his lips against my own.

“oh my god.”

i quickly push tom away, his lips pink and swollen as he turns around, my eyes widening once i see bill standing in the doorway of the kitchen with some empty plates in either hand. his mouth is wide open, body standing completely still in shock.

“i’ll just…leave these here.” he quickly says, rushing toward the sink and practically throwing the plates in there, shooting me a quick glance before leaving.

i look upward at tom, who seems to be unfazed by the situation, his thumb reaching upward to swipe at the lipgloss that had stained his lips. he meets my gaze, shrugging his shoulders and wrapping his arm around me, pulling my body to rest against his own, our chests together.

“at least we don’t have to figure out a way to tell everybody else. bill would have told them all by now.”

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luxaofhesperides · 3 months ago

Text

those who serve.

CHAPTER SEVEN: a wound.

previous chapter. full fic on ao3.

14k.... finish what ure doing first before u read this. this is ur only warning.

cw for this chapter: violence, injuries, nongraphic medical procedures

. . .

Danny gets one week to adjust to the reveal of the Wayne family’s night activities, on top of getting learning more and more each day to help Alfred. Then everything upends itself in the face of a gala taking place in the manor in ten days.

Most of the preparations have been taken care of by Alfred months in advance; renting out extra tables, chairs, and tablecloths, hiring catering, getting together press passes for attending reporters, and so much more. He kindly goes over each thing for Danny, reviewing the specifics of each group so Danny can have an idea of what to look for in the future. The amount of information he gets makes his head spin, and the prices of everything make him break out into a cold sweat.

Technically, Danny is joining the ranks of the rich with his new paycheck, but no amount of time will make him comfortable with such large numbers being attached to his bank account.

Ten days to the gala, Alfred shows Danny how to get blood out of white and light colored clothes. Tim, apparently, pulled some stitches after getting stabbed the night before, and bled through his shirt.

Hydrogen peroxide is a life saver. It definitely would have been useful to have while he still lived in Amity Park.

He also discovers a love of ironing; watching the wrinkles in the fabric disappear is deeply satisfying in ways he can’t put to words.

“I’d certainly be happy to pass on all ironing duties to you,” Alfred says, when Danny mentions this. “Just be careful not to burn yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not that clumsy!” he replies, moving the iron across another shirt. Looking at Alfred, Danny miscalculates how far he’s moved the iron, and the edge of the hot metal touches his palm, pressing the shirt flat against the ironing board. He yelps, yanking his hand back, then gives Alfred a sheepish smile. “That doesn’t count.”

Alfred shakes his head with a fond smile, holding out a hand. “Let me see.”

Danny holds up his hand for Alfred to inspect. There’s no burn, barely any redness in the skin, but Danny draws some ice across the area anyways to keep Alfred from worrying.

“You could always iron using oven mitts,” Alfred suggests. “I believe we have some spare Batman themed ones in the kitchen.” His tone is so dry and even that it takes Danny a second to realize he’s joking.

“I would have accepted that if it wasn’t Batman themed,” he jokes back. “Anyone but him.”

“He’ll be heartbroken to hear that, I’m sure.”

Danny snickers and goes back to ironing, carefully keeping it away from his hand this time.

He’s not laughing when Alfred teaches him about formal suits that night, showing him each piece to the suit and how to properly wash, fold, and iron them, as well as how to put them on. And then he drops the bombshell of, “You’ll be getting your suit fitted tomorrow as well,” in the most casual tone possible for him.

Danny chokes on nothing and has to spend a minute clearing his throat before he can say, “Sorry, what did you just say?”

“You need to get fitted for a suit. Tomorrow. I have already made the appointment with a tailor I’ve worked with for many decades.”

“Cool, that’s what I thought you said. Is this required?”

“Yes, as you’ll be attending the gala as well. We are the two permanent members of the Wayne Manor staff. There will be eyes on us as we keep the event running smoothly, so it’s important to be well dressed.”

It makes sense when Alfred puts it like that, but Danny still has to smother his instinctive refusal. He’s only rented suits before for school dances, and those were never super comfortable. He avoids events that require suits, like formal conferences his parents are invited to, with an extended invite for family. Suits and wealth will always make him think first of Vlad.

Maybe in time, he’ll associate those things more with the Waynes, but for now, Vlad is the face that comes to mind and Danny has to shove away the urge to run and hide.

“Not to worry,” Alfred adds, as Danny struggles to smooth out his expression from the pained grimace it twisted into, “You will not be going to this appointment alone.”

That’s not the part that Danny’s concerned about, but he still appreciates it. He’s definitely not ready to be alone in the city again, considering how his first time out with the Waynes ended with a hostage situation and a mall full of violent gangsters.

There’s not much anyone here can do for his own hangups, especially when they originate in another dimension.

So Danny pastes on an unconvincing smile and gets back to work.

Nine days before the gala, Danny finds himself in a car with Bruce and Cass. Alfred had offered to drive them, but Bruce grabbed the keys before anyone else could and cheerily waved Alfred away. He was then told to not get another speeding ticket and to try to be a good role model for Danny.

Danny, whose only good role model is Jazz, looked away nonchalantly and acted like he didn’t hear that.

It’s not like he needs good role models anyways. He’s doing just fine on his own!

Alfred doesn’t count because Alfred isn’t a role model as much as he’s an ideal Danny is striving for. Alfred is who Danny wants to be when he grows up. Now that he has a chance to grow up (relatively) safe, that is.

Cass had snickered at the three of them, then bodily shoved Danny into the backseat before climbing in after him.

Now, they’re going down the streets of Gotham, driving over a bridge, through neighborhoods, through run down districts that slowly get bigger and cleaner and visibly more suited for people with money. Bruce doesn’t drive recklessly, thankfully, despite Alfred’s warnings.

Even so, Danny still clings to the car door, ready to throw himself out at a moment’s notice. He’s learned to bail quickly with his parents’ dangerous driving.

“You alright back there?” Bruce asks, meeting Danny’s eyes briefly in the rearview mirror.

“Yep!” Danny chokes out. “Doing great!”

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to regulate his breathing, counting slowly in an attempt to settle the wild beating of his heart.

He wasn’t this bad in cars before. Even with his parents. He’s not sure what changed, but being in Gotham, after everything that’s happened, makes the small space of a car feel suffocating. The rocking of the car as it goes down bumpy roads would have once lulled him to sleep, but now makes his stomach roll and his chest go tight with panic. None of this is made better by having two observant and dangerous people watching his every reaction, no matter how small.

The radio is playing softly, simple background noise as Bruce drives them through Gotham. Danny tries to pay attention to it, to listen to the songs that come on, but his focus is completely shot. The noise keeps fading in and out of his ears.

“It’s okay,” Cass says softly. Her fingers skate over the back of his hand, making him jump. He blinks his eyes open to look at her.

At some point, she’s taken off her seatbelt. Which isn’t safe! She needs to put it back on!

Danny’s gone through the lessons and powerpoints back in Amity Park, when teachers tried to make sure he and his sister would be better drivers than their parents. Seatbelts help prevent severe injuries in car crashes, and there’s a reason they’re required by law.

Weakly, he shoves her back against the seat. Then he leans forward to reach past her, taking hold of the discarded seatbelt, and fastening it around her again.

“Keep that on,” he says around a gasp, his breath catching in his chest. His voice sounds weak and thready even to his ears, which means its bound to be even more concerning to her and Bruce.

“Do you need me to pull over?” Bruce asks, glancing back at him. “If you’re feeling sick, I can stop until you feel better.”

“No, just keep driving. The sooner we get to wherever it is we’re going, the better.”

Cass is frowning at him when he looks at her, ensuring the seatbelt is still on. “Why?” she asks, pointing at him.

That’s such a vague question! What is he supposed to answer!

‘Why is he like this?’ ‘Why is he worked up about a seatbelt?’ ‘Why is he a mess?’

The answer to all those questions are the same: he doesn’t know!

The most he can do is offer Cass a weak shrug, so that’s what he does. Cass squints her eyes at him, then grabs his hands and lifts them up to start a clumsy game of patty cake. It quickly becomes apparent that she doesn’t actually know how to play patty cake and is instead clapping their hands together randomly with a look of confusion on her face, so Danny takes over, humming the song under his breath.

It helps distract him from the unreasonable panic of being trapped inside a car. That was probably her intention, but Cass is so focused on keeping up with their steadily quickening game of patty cake that it doesn’t feel like he’s being coddled. It just feels like this is normal, like they’re two kids passing time on a car ride.

Like they could be anyone else. People who are safe. People who haven’t been so hurt.

It’s almost a surprise when the car comes to a stop, Bruce smoothly pulling into a parking space with a reserved sign in front of it.

Danny opens his mouth to ask if it’s really alright that they park there, but can’t say a word before Cass smacks his hands down. When he looks at her, she rubs her fingers together in the universal sign for money and gives him an impish grin.

That’s right, Bruce is rich enough that he can get away with anything. Who cares who that reserved sign is for? Bruce can just buy them a new parking lot.

That won’t stop the whole thing from leaving a bad taste in his mouth, but at least it’ll be easier to ignore.

Cass hops out the car and skips around the open the door on his side, holding out a hand to help him out.

He takes it and lets her yank him out of the car. She doesn’t bother waiting for Bruce before dragging Danny into a fancy looking store, the outside all black brick and large, reflective windows. He doesn’t get a chance to see the name of the store, pulled in too fast by Cass’s enthusiasm.

She all but throws open the door, the bell above them ringing merrily, and leads him inside. The dark wood floor and fancy lights immediately make Danny feel out of place. The racks of fancy clothing on display and the mannequins all dressed up in suits of various dark colors only make him feel more like he doesn’t belong in there.

“Hello, hello, welcome!” calls out an employee. She wears a dark green apron with a notepad tucked into the front pocket and a pin cushion on her wrist. “Are you just browsing today, or do you have an appointment?”

“We have an appointment for Danny,” Bruce answers, somehow appearing behind them. Danny squeezes Cass’s hand to hold back his flinch; he’d really love if the man would make some noise when he moves.

Did the bell over the door even ring when Bruce came in?

“Great! Follow me, I’ll get you into a fitting room and then let Mr. Brownstein know you’re here.” She leads them through a door near the back of the store, leading to a short hallway with three numbered doors in them.

They’re given room one, which looks more like a lounge than a fitting room. Beyond the couch and armchairs is a round platform with floor length mirrors surrounding it on three sides. Past that is an area that looks like a large dressing room with only a curtain to separate it from the rest of the room.

Bruce wastes no time in sitting down on the couch with a low grunt. Apparently not even vigilantism and constant training can save him from old man joints.

Cass lets go of Danny’s hand to flit around the room, then grabs a few magazines and sits next to Bruce, flipping through them quickly.

Left on his own, Danny stands near the door awkwardly before he forces himself to join them, sitting on one of the armchairs to keep some space between them.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks as soon as Danny’s gotten comfortable.

Danny shrugs. “Fine. Just… not used to this.” He gestures vaguely to everything around them and Bruce nods as if this makes sense.

“I understand that this can be a lot,” he says, “But we’ll do all we can to make things go smoothly for you.”

“Will be normal… time?” Cass adds, looking to Bruce for help.

She signs something and Bruce helpfully supplies, “Eventually.”

“Yes! Even-tu-ally.”

“I don’t know if anyone ever gets used to this. The being rich thing and your hobbies.”

“Plenty of us in the know have had to adjust to this life, you’re not alone in that.”

Danny squints at Bruce. “I highly doubt any of you were normal before doing what you do.”

Bruce opens his mouth to refute that, thinks about it, then closes his mouth and slowly nods. “That is a fair point. What’s normal for Gotham is hardly normal for anyone else.”

“No, no, this is not a Gotham specific thing. This is a Wayne and associates specific thing.”

“You are in that,” Cass says. “Not normal.”

“I think I’ve made it very clear that I am not normal. But I wasn’t insanely rich! That changes things!”

“No,” Cass says firmly, agreeing. “Not normal. Better that way.”

A knock on the door sounds through the room before they can get into it anymore. The door opens just a second later and an old man with heavyset wrinkles, white hair, and a fancy looking black cane with the handle done in gold, enters with a smile.

“Ah, Mr. Wayne, how lovely to see you again.” He’s got the same accent as Alfred, the same even, unflappable tone.

“Davey!” Bruce stands with a grin, his voice turning loud and energetic. It’s such a change from how Danny’s used to seeing him that he can’t do anything but stare at the man in shock. Bruce shakes Davey’s hand in big up and down sweeps, full of cheer.

Gone is the calm, steady, intimidating presence Danny is used to. In its place is some guy with a good attitude and not much else in his head.

“So good to see you again,” Bruce continues, dropping the handshake in favor of patting him on the back.

“I do hope you haven’t wrecked any of your suits recently. I was hoping to go more than a few months between tailoring new suits for you.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll be happy to know all my suits are in perfect condition! We’re here for someone new, anyways.”

Taking his cue, Danny stands up and gives a small wave. “Hi,” he says rather weakly.

Davey lights up, striding across the room to take Danny’s hand in his, giving it a vigorous shake. “You must be the boy Alfred’s taken in! Such a pleasure to meet you lad, I’ve heard only good things about you.”

“You know Alfred?”

“Know him? I grew up in the same neighborhood as him in England, and he’s the one who helped me set up shop here in Gotham back in the 80s. I’ve gotten ahead of myself.” He shakes his head and steps back, giving Danny some breathing room. “David Brownstein, at your service.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Brownstein. I’m Danny.”

“Call me David. Any friend of Alfred is a friend of mine. Now, I hear you’re in need of a suit?”

“Yeah, there’s a gala soon and I don’t have anything formal or like… professional to wear to it.”

“Make him pretty!” Cass demands, clapping her hands together in delight.

David nods to her. “I intend to, Miss Cassandra. Let’s begin, shall we?”

In no time at all, Danny is standing on the round platform in a black suit, trying his best to be as still as possible. He’s stopped breathing completely so he doesn’t accidentally disturb David where he’s pinning his left pant leg to better fit him. The fabric is soft and smooth, higher quality than literally anything else he’s ever worn in his life.

When he glances into one of the many mirrors around him, he has to admit that he looks good.

To be fair, though, everyone looks good in a suit.

It’s just so far beyond his normal that it feels like he’s looking at someone else in the mirror. To think that just a few weeks ago, he as a homeless teenager living on the streets with only the clothes on his back. Now he’s getting fitted for a designer suit that probably costs more than his entire college fund.

Bruce left the room at some point and Danny has no idea where he could be. Cass is still around, though she disappears every so often, then pops back in wearing a beautiful dress that she presents to him for his opinion.

Danny gives her a thumbs up every time while also trying to keep his arms still.

Near the end of his appointment, she walks into the room with a bunch of silk ties in different colors and patterns draped over one arm. She holds up each one in front of her face, looks between the ties and Danny, then either tosses them onto the couch or puts them back on her arm. The ones she keeps on her arms, she yanks at each one, then wraps them around her neck and tries to choke herself with them.

This, apparently, is part of the selection process, and she tosses a few more to the couch.

He’s… not sure he wants to know why she’s considering which tie would be best to strangle someone with. That’s not a problem Danny has to deal with. It’s not in his job description.

Bruce conveniently reappears once Danny carefully changes back out of the suit. The thought of trying not to disturb the pins or chalk lines is so stressful that Danny just phased out of them once the curtain was drawn, so they’re all as untouched as they can be.

He passes the suit to David, who leaves quickly with a goodbye tossed over his shoulder to the three of them. Cass hands three ties to Bruce, who stops by the register to get them paid for and packed up before they leave the store.

They head back to the manor soon after. Danny’s grateful to be done, even as he spends the entire drive with his head between his knees, trying to pretend he’s anywhere else.

“How was it?” Alfred asks once Danny’s joined him in the kitchen to help with dinner.

“Fine. David was nice. Also, I’m not sure if Cass wants to strangle me or not.”

“She’s like that sometimes,” Alfred says, then smoothly pivots the conversation into a new direction and they both silently decide to move on and pretend everything’s fine.

Eight days before the gala, Damian pops up while Danny’s removing dead leaves from the indoor plants. He hovers over Danny’s shoulder completely silent while Danny works, unaware, until Damian says, “Stop what you’re doing.”

“Shit!” Danny jumps, throwing dead leaves into the air, and goes intangible. His feet sink into the floor before he catches himself and flies up, floating in the air with a hand on his chest to keep his half-dead heart from escaping.

Damian stares at him, unimpressed. He looks at the dead leaves on the ground, then at Danny, and sighs.

“What?” Danny says, flustered. “You scared me! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“It’s hardly my fault you lack awareness of your surroundings.”

“Yeah, whatever. Did you need something?” Danny floats back down to the floor, tangible once again, and kneels down to clean up his mess.

After a moment of brief hesitation, Damian joins him, carefully gathering up the dead leaves closest to him.

Any annoyance Danny has at being scared like that fizzles away instantly with that little gesture.

Damian is blunt and full of jagged edges, but he’s not unkind.

“Has anyone shown you the emergency supply caches or escapes routes?”

Danny vaguely recalls Damian mentioning the caches but nothing else. And Danny hasn’t exactly been going out of his way to spend time with anyone but Alfred, who is busy enough teaching him how to handle all his new butler duties.

He shakes his head, gathering up the very last leaves, the smallest of the bunch, then stands up. Damian follows suit with a disapproving click of his tongue. “I suppose I will have to do it then. Come, let us begin.”

“Woah, wait, we gotta throw these away first!” Danny tries to take the bundle of dead leaves in Damian’s hands from him, but he turns, keeping his hands out of reach with a scowl.

“Fine. You don’t need to do it for me. I’m not incapable of basic tasks.”

That was not at all what he meant by that, but okay! Danny decides to move on from that and dumps the dead leaves into the small trash bag he’s been carrying around for this task. Then he holds it out for Damian to do the same.

Having taken care of that, Danny has no more excuses and is quickly taken on a trip around the Manor with Damian, who points out all the hidden emergency caches.

There are so many. If Danny didn’t know about they’re vigilante activities, he would have been convinced that the Waynes were secretly doomsday preppers.

Some are hidden in panels in the walls. Others beneath floorboards. Some behind large paintings.

“You must carefully memorize which paintings are emergency caches. There are some paintings within the Manor that lead to secret passageways or panic rooms,” Damian says.

“How the hell did this place get built that you guys have so many secret, hidden things in it?”

“Very carefully.”

Damian puts a hand on a panel in the wall in the next hallway and pushes against it. The wood falls back and opens silently, revealing a small space with a first aid kit, six gas masks of various sizes, and three tasers. Danny carefully takes note of the location and tries to memorize a few details around the cache so he can find it again later.

They go through the entire manor, even unused rooms and halls, the attic, and areas that the Wayne family allows outsiders to access when they open their doors.

Escape routes follow next, but take much less time when Danny reminds Damian that he can just fly out of the Manor whenever he wants. Danny himself is an escape route. Still, he memorizes some that go from the ballroom to the back of the manor in case he needs to evacuate people.

“Now,” Damian says as they come to a stop in front of the grand staircase in the foyer, “Walk to every emergency cache you can remember.”

“Oh, come on,” Danny groans. “There’s no way I’m going to remember any correctly.”

“Which is why we’re doing this. If we put it off, then you won’t learn until it’s far too late.”

That doesn’t sound too bad, since Danny’s been learning on the fly since the Accident. Half the reason he managed to do what he did as Phantom was because he had no choice but to learn as he went, thrown into fights he wasn’t prepared for. It’s never gone too badly before, and he’s always been able to get out of things relatively fine.

Then again, Gotham is much more dangerous than Amity Park. It’s not ghosts that are causing the problems here, but living people who have no qualms about killing. Danny rarely ever had to hold back his strength with ghosts; they were already dead, they could take a hit.

But here?

If Danny isn’t careful, he could kill people here. Even if he doesn’t mean too.

He remembers how strong he felt when stopping that mugger from hurting Alfred. How fragile and small the gangster who attacked him and Dick in the mall felt trapped beneath his foot.

In Amity Park, Danny was just another ghost.

Here in Gotham, Danny is a monster.

Damian’s right. It’s better he be prepared so he can act more carefully, have more options at his disposal instead of just working off panicked instinct.

“Alright,” he sighs. “Just don’t be too upset when I can’t find more than one.”

Damian stares him down with hard, serious eyes, but something about the downturn of his lips makes him look more awkward than intimidating. “You are a civilian who has only just begun to learn everything about the Manor. I’m not expecting much from you.”

The words, by themselves, are harsh, but Danny can hear what he really means: You don’t have to get it perfect, you just need to know enough to be safe.

“Okay. Should we start from here?”

Damian nods, and so the roles reverse and Danny leads them around the Manor, trying to remember as many emergency cache locations as possible. He gets more than he expected, around seven correctly and six more with some hesitation and poking around in areas he knows something is hidden, but he’s not 100% sure where.

He expects that to be the end of it, but Damian just nods thoughtfully and takes the lead again, showing Danny all the caches he missed. It takes up the rest of the day, but Alfred didn’t mind when he rushed to the kitchen afterwards to help finish dinner.

The next five days are spent deep cleaning the Manor, mostly in areas where there will be high traffic, and making sure anything Bat related or generally suspicious is hidden away. He doesn’t see the Waynes much at all outside of meals, and even then it’s only Bruce, Damian, and Cass that show up regularly. Everyone else appears at random, no rhyme or reason as to when they decide to sit down to eat with the rest of the family.

He overhears stern reminders to be careful on patrols, for the Waynes joining Bruce to make sure their clothes are ready and any needed cover stories are made and memorized. The others tease the poor souls forced to host the gala with Bruce, flaunting the fact that they get to go out and patrol like normal instead of pandering to the crowd of deeply annoying elite folk.

None of what they say make Danny feel any better about having to work the gala.

He tries to channel his nerves into work, always finding something to do in order to keep his mind from wondering about all the things that could go wrong at the gala and spiraling. The giant crystal chandelier in the ballroom is sparkling from how thoroughly Danny’s cleaned it.

Alfred handles all the logistical tasks, smoothing out last minute hiccups and answering questions from caterers and hired security. The ease with which he works through things has Danny in awe, hoping to one day be as capable as he is.

Two days before the gala, his suit is delivered to the Manor. Cass somehow gets a hold of it first and ambushes Danny as he walks into the kitchen, holding a basket full of bell peppers and tomatoes.

“Your suit!” she announces, suddenly in his face as he turns around from closing the door. One of her hands darts out and holds the basket up from the bottom, keeping any of his garden harvest from falling onto the floor as Danny freezes and tries not to jump back and bang his head into the door.

Once she’s sure he’s got his balance back, Cass steps back, presents his suit on a hanger to him, and says again, “Your suit.”

“Thanks, Cass. This couldn’t wait until I wasn’t holding stuff?”

“Nope. Go put it on!”

She smoothly takes the basket from his hands and replaces it with the suit. Then she uses her shoulder to push Danny away from the door and out of the kitchen, ending with a light, playful kick to his back.

Well. He’s no longer making spaghetti, apparently.

With nothing else to do and no reason to deny Cass, Danny heads off to his room to get changed. He doesn’t quite remember all of Alfred’s instructions on how to put on a suit properly, so he has to look it up on his phone. It’s a long process to lay out the suit in all its pieces and then put them on in order, looking between his phone and the mirror to make sure he’s doing it right.

The only thing he doesn’t have is some sort of necktie. He’s pretty sure butlers wear little black bowties, but that could just be a movie thing. He’s pretty sure it’s what James Bond wears, anyways, which isn’t quite the look he’s going for.

Once he’s got the suit on as well as he can manage, Danny takes a look at himself in the mirror.

He’s still pretty thin despite his appetite growing and his stomach being able to handle larger, richer meals. There’s a paleness to his skin that will probably always be there, making him look washed out and slightly drowned. His hair is a mess, as it always is, but in the suit, it looks more like a style choice than a consequence of his refusal to touch a hair brush in the mornings when he makes breakfast for himself and Alfred.

He doesn’t look half bad.

And the suit is fitted to him perfectly. Nothing is too tight or too loose. Everything falls where it should comfortably.

Satisfied with his efforts to dress himself properly, Danny gets back to the kitchen to let Cass see him. It’s easier to fly through the walls than make his way down the winding hallways, so that’s what he does, passing by a startled Tim who must have just come up from the Batcave.

Cass is sitting on the counter when he returns, kicking out her legs idly. She lights up when she spots him and claps her hands together in delight. “Nice!” she says, giving him a thumbs up.

“Thanks. I don’t have a tie or anything, so it’s not really a complete look.”

“We got ties,” she says.

��Uh, when?”

She waves a hand vaguely. “At the store. With your suit.”

Well. Bruce did buy some ties, but Danny hasn’t seen them since so he assumed they weren’t for him. For all he knows, they’re for Cass. She was the one checking them to see how well they could strangle people. He’s not really sure he wants those ties, if they’re going to be used as improvised weapons.

“I didn’t know any of those were mine. I definitely haven’t seen them since we got back.”

“Oh. I forgot.” Cass hops off the counter and says, “Stay here!” Then she’s gone, disappearing back into the depths of the manor.

“Sure, I guess,” Danny replies to no one. He stares forlornly at the basket of bell peppers and tomatoes on the counter. He would get started on the sauce if he could, but he doesn’t trust himself to keep his new and expensive suit clean while he cooks, so all he can do is look longingly at the work he should be doing.

He doesn’t wait as long as he expected to. Cass must have made use of those hidden passageways scattered all along the Manor to get back to him so quickly, three ties in hand. Or she’s just fast. One or the other.

“Here!” she says, presenting them to him.

Danny looks them over, reaching out to feel them. They must be made of silk for how soft and smooth they are.

One of the ties is a deep blue color with gold thread providing some embellishments. Another is a simple red, one solid color.

It’s the last tie that holds Danny’s attention. Black with silver thread stars and planets and celestial bodies, carefully placed on the length of the tie. He’s never thought much about ties, much less about their designs, but he’s obsessed with this one. It’s perfect for him.

Cass must clock his interest in the last tie. She tosses the other two over her shoulder, then reaches out to flip his collar up. The tie goes around his neck and she ties it loosely, clearly unsure of how to properly tie it, but doing her best anyways.

Once done, she looks it over before she nods, satisfied. “Good.”

Danny looks down to lift up one lopsided end of the knot she’s made with the tie. “Thanks, Cass. This one’s great. Can I ask why you tested these three for strangling capabilities?”

She shakes her head. “Not for harming,” she explains.

“Uh… strangling is very harmful. And that’s definitely what it looked like to me.”

She shakes her head again, stronger. With one hand, she takes one of the ties on her shoulder and loops it around her neck. “Picked the ones that won’t be bad. Hard to hurt with these. Try.” And Cass offers one end of her makeshift tie noose to Danny.

He stares. “No, thanks.”

“I’ll do it then.”

“Don’t!”

Cass grins at him, all teeth and challenge. “Stop me.”

And she yanks with all her strength, harder than she did at the tailor’s, genuinely trying to strangle herself with this silk tie. Danny chokes on his breath and scrambles to stop her, grabbing her wrist and struggling to pry the tie out of her fist. She doesn’t let him stop her, pulling harder, her grip iron and unmovable.

Danny, in a moment of panic, shoves his fingers between the tie and her throat, creating space, then makes the tie go intangible, finally freeing it from her grasp.

“Please,” he begs, “Do not try to kill yourself in front of me.”

“Woah, what?” Tim asks, having chosen the absolute worst time to walk into the kitchen.

Cass waves at him. “Testing,” she says, pointing at the tie, the wraps her hands around her neck and mimes being strangled to death.

“Oh. I see.” Based on the way Tim is blinking at them, befuddled, he definitely doesn’t see. “Why silk ties? Those are the worst for strangulation. They slip too much.”

Danny stares down at the tie he liberated from Cass’s grasp. Slowly, he wraps on end around his wrist, ties it off, then pulls with what’s left of the tail.

Sure enough, the tie slips along his wrist and against itself. It still pulls tight, but not as strongly as he thought it would.

So this is what Cass meant when she said these were safe. The ties she chose must be what she decided were least capable of strangling him.

It’s actually kind of sweet that she went out of her way to find something specifically so it wouldn’t be used to hurt him too much. As strange as the whole process was, he can’t deny that he’s touched by the effort she put into this.

“Unless that’s the point,” Tim continues, looking between the two of them. “Nice suit, Danny, you look great. Have you figured out where to hide weapons in it yet?”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“In case you get attacked. Always a risk at galas.”

“Are the rich people going to attack me or something?”

“No, no! Probably. But that many rich people in once place, especially in Wayne Manor, makes the gala a huge target for anyone wanting to rob us or take someone for ransom. But maybe be wary of the rich people too, there’s some really creepy old guys that are somehow still kicking.”

“Great,” Danny says weakly, “That’s exactly what I want to hear.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be able to keep you safe. So, weapons?”

“I don’t think I need any. I have powers, remember?”

“And you can fight with them?” Tim presses.

“Fighting’s all I’ve ever really done with them, so yes.”

“I’ll take your word for it then. But remember, plenty of us will be there in case anything goes wrong, and we’ll have plenty of security around. I’m sure the gala will go fine.”

Cass points an accusing finger at Tim. “Jinx!”

He winces. “Ah. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have said that. My bad.”

“Well, as long as I don’t have to fight rich people,” Danny tries to joke, only to blanch when Tim moves his hand in a ‘maybe-so’ back and forth motion. “I don’t have to fight rich people, right? I thought we already agreed on that!”

“You probably don’t have to fight rich people,” Tim corrects, “But there was a cult situation years ago. Like, when I was in elementary school, but B took care of it so it’s not a problem anymore. Not that it would stop them from making more cults, but we haven’t seen any recently. So.”

Danny stares at him, a little horrified. “Man, what the hell is Gotham?”

Tim and Cass snicker, as if this isn’t the reality they grew up in. “Don’t worry,” Tim says, “You’ll get used to it soon enough.”

“Ancients help me when that day comes,” Danny mutters.

He leaves them to steal snacks from the kitchen as he changes back out of the suit and is graced with their company as he makes two pots worth of spaghetti, smacking their hands with a wooden spoon when they try to sneak a taste of the sauce.

And then, suddenly, the day of the gala of here. Danny can only hope it doesn’t end too terribly.

. . .

“The first guests will likely arrive around seven in the evening,” Alfred says as they make their final rounds to ensure the ballrooms and sitting rooms are all ready for the elite of Gotham. “Preparations will begin at noon. Security will arrive first. They have all received instructions onto where they should be. Be on the look out for anyone going to places closed to the private; we have had many people in the past be bribed to steal from us while had them employed for an event.”

“What should I do if I do find someone out of place?”

“First, try to escort them back to where they should be. If they resist, then do whatever you deem necessary.”

“And when you say ‘anything necessary,’ does that include…”

Alfred stops to look Danny directly in the eyes as he firmly says, “Anything.” And then continues walking as if that didn’t just happen. Danny hurries to follow, putting into practice his newest, most important skill of moving right on past that shit.

“Tables and chairs for the ballroom will arrive at one. I’ve printed out the layout they need to be placed in. The rental company has a copy of these instructions, so all you need to do is oversee the set up. Catering will arrive at five to set up, cook, and have food out and ready for guests.”

“Do I have to greet any of the guests?”

“Not at all. Master Bruce has that responsibility. I will be taking care of coats and bags for guests. I will need you to direct cars to the drop off point in front of the ballroom entrance.”

“Everyone’s being dropped off?”

“That is correct. You don’t need to worry about arranging rides for anyone, as that is something they have to do themselves.”

Okay. Cool. It’s still stressful, still a lot that Danny has to be in charge of, but it’s not as overwhelming as he thought it would be. Alfred hasn’t given him too much to do, and all of it is easy enough for him to take care of with his current skill levels. As long as no guests come up to him demanding he do stuff for them, he should be fine.

They split up after they leave the ballroom to put up the velvet ropes that will hopefully keep people from wandering into places they aren’t allowed to be. From what he’s heard, it shouldn’t be a problem except with particularly drunk guests. The Wayne family is big and important in Gotham, enough so that any and all guests will be careful to be respectful while attending the gala.

Danny double checks the list he was given of where to place the rope barriers, double checking that he got all of them.

After that, it’s a flurry of tasks to be completed, last minute details to fix, and preparing lunch for everyone so no one goes hungry until the gala begins.

In no time at all, security arrives and Danny is tasked with directing them to their positions, helping them review their routes to keep the venue safe. It’s off putting to be the one listened to when he’s so much younger than everyone, but none of the hired security guards act like anything’s out of the ordinary while with him. It’s probably just in his own head, but it still feels wrong.

Tables and chairs arrive after that, and Danny helps them get to where they need to be placed. He helps with moving some of the tables as well, putting his enhanced strength to good use so the other workers don’t have to struggle so much. Tablecloths are set out, carefully smoothed of wrinkles. Floral centerpieces follow.

There’s only one near miss with two workers crashing into each other and the centerpiece—with its glass vase—goes flying amid the horrified gasps of the others. Danny had just managed to catch it in time, moving on instinct honed from years of ghost fights.

The relief on everyone’s faces helped him feel more at ease working with them.

By the time they’re done and everything is where it should be, properly put together, the catering arrives, bringing with them another flurry of movement and energy.

Danny lets himself get swept up in it, helping where he can. He almost doesn’t notice how late it’s gotten until Alfred appears at the entrance to the ballroom and looks at him expectantly.

Everything is as set up as it could be. The rest of the staff are now to act as waiters, basically, carting around drinks and finger foods for the elite. Danny will just get underfoot if he stays.

He leaves with a quick goodbye and is waved off by more people than he expected.

Alfred falls into step with him as they make their way to the servant’s quarters to get changed into the gala suits. Before they part ways to go into their own rooms, Alfred gently claps a hand against Danny’s back.

“Well done,” he says warmly when Danny looks at him. He looks proud of Danny, so proud that it makes Danny’s eyes well up with tears he hurries to dash away.

“Thanks!” he returns with a bright smile, and ducks into his room to try to get his emotions under control before he has to meet a bunch of rich people with red eyes and tear tracks on his face.

To think he can be undone so easily with just two words.

Jazz would probably have a whole lot to say about that. He misses her psychoanalyzing annoying big sister attitude so badly it hurts, a wound that will never heal. He hopes she’s doing alright wherever she is now. He’s ruined enough of her life, he’d like it if his disappearance doesn’t hurt her too much.

Taking in a deep breath, Danny shoves away all thoughts of home and family. He needs to focus. He’s here to do a job. He needs to make sure the gala goes smoothly.

Step one of that plan is to put on his suit and fix his hair so he looks more put together and less on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

He completes step one more or less successful. The only thing he can’t do is knot his tie nicely, and no video tutorials he watches really helps. With the time limit he’s on, Danny just gives up and decides to ask Alfred for help.

Alfred is already in the hallway waiting for him when Danny opens his door. He holds up his tie with a sheepish smile. “So, I don’t actually know what to do with this…?”

Alfred’s eyes soften and he waves Danny over. “Allow me.”

He takes the tie from Danny’s hands and flips up his collar. With clean, precise movements, he has the tie around Danny’s neck and neatly knotted into what is probably a fancy shape that Danny will never be able to recreate. Then his collar is smoothed down again by Alfred’s hands, which quickly move to straighten out the lapels of his suit.

“There we are,” he says. “And look at you now: a proper butler of the Wayne family.”

A warmth settles deep in his chest. There’s joy, rising on strong wings, that sweeps through him.

He’s still an apprentice. He still has so much to learn. But tonight, he will go out as the future butler of the Wayne family. That is how this world will know him. Alfred has carved out a place in this foreign dimension just for him, and finally Danny feels like he can take it, settle in, finally belong here beyond just a charity case taken in from the streets.

“Are you ready to work your first official event?”

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Danny replies, standing taller.

“I’m glad to hear it. And Danny, if you ever need a break, you can hide away in the kitchen for as long as you need. I’ll be sure to join you in there eventually.”

“Got it!” And then, softer, “Thanks, Alfred.”

“But of course, Danny. Tonight will be busy. It may even be overwhelming. But I will be there for you should you ever need me.”

Danny nods, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn’t start crying. He had been doing so good too! But Alfred’s honest words always throw him off balance.

He has no defense against Alfred’s kindness. That’s how he ended up here in the first place. Pulling himself together with nothing but stubbornness and sheer will power, Danny lets out a steady breath, then starts walking. Alfred joins him as they return to the ballroom and gives him one more pat on the back before splitting off to tend to his own gala duties.

Left alone in the ballroom, surrounded by the bustle of staff finishing up their last minute tasks, Danny takes in the glittering opulence of the place; this isn’t the warm, lived in Wayne Manor full of history and family and comfort. This is cold and sharp, all gold and bright lights, a stage for false personalities and masks to take the spotlight for the night.

A group of musicians in the back of the ballroom fill the air with the sound of strings and flutes as they tune their instruments and prepare to play for hours on end.

Food is set up and serving stations all have someone behind them, standing with their hands behind their back as they wait for the first guests to trickle in.

It’s nearly seven. Danny hurries outside, ready to wave drivers towards him, directing them down the gravel path that branches off from the main driveway that goes to the front door of Wayne Manor. It takes barely a few minutes before he sees the first headlights make their way down the makeshift road.

Danny waves a hand in the air and the driver stops right in front of him. An old couple dressed lavishly get out of the car and stand together, arm in arm.

“Oh, who’s this?” the old woman coos, looking at him.

Danny gives her a tight smile. “Hello, and welcome! I’m Danny, the apprentice butler to the Wayne family.”

“How darling,” she says, pressing a hand against her chest. “It’s been too long since I’ve met a young man like you learning the art of butling. Why, my own family had an apprentice back when I was in college, and he went off to serve a family in Spain that was closely related to the Spanish royal family.”

“That’s cool,” Danny replies, trying to hide how awkward he feels. “I think I’m going to stay with the Wayne family, though. I’m not that ambitious.”

“Waynes are close to royals in Gotham. They’re the most important family in the city. Why, I remember when Martha and Thomas were killed in Park Row. It was a dark day for us all…”

Woah, what? That’s the first time he’s heard of any murders happening in the Wayne family.

Some of his shock must shown on his face, as the old couple suddenly look more engage, more eager to talk to him.

“Why don’t you escort us in, son,” the old man says, “And we’ll tell you about it was we walk.”

The couple begin to slowly walk to the Manor, slow with age though they still hold themselves tall. Danny falls in step with them and the man begins to weave a tale about a much younger Bruce Wayne and the parents who loved him so dearly, and how the sudden, tragic loss of them rocked the world.

Danny doubts he ever would have found out about this on his own. And he certainly won’t have known the impact the Waynes have had on Gotham. The fact that their lives and deaths mold the city is a heavy realization.

The couple keep him at the door to the ballroom for a few minutes to wrap up their story. Danny glances out over the grounds every so often to make sure there aren’t any headlights in the distance coming his way until they thank him for the escort and go inside, leaving him to wait for more guests.

He never really thought about why the Waynes go out each night as vigilantes. It’s dangerous, thankless work and no one would do it without a reason.

He can see, suddenly, a young Bruce, just a child, suddenly lost and adrift in a world that murdered his parents. He can see that child decide to fight back in any way he can. He can see Batman rise from the heart of that child and swear to prevent anyone else from experiencing the pain he had to survive.

And he can see Alfred standing behind that boy, carrying his own grief as he takes care of a child who grows up ready to throw his life away for a cause far greater than himself.

How they can bear it?

Danny is both the one who left and the one left behind, running from his parents just as they turned their backs on him, and it destroyed him. He’s only just now building himself back up again, feeling more stable and steady despite the hole in his heart that will never close. At least he got the privilege of starting fresh in this dimension. Bruce and Alfred had to grow around the loss that is embedded into the city.

He really doesn’t know much about them, he realizes. This is the first time he’s really considered their histories.

Maybe Alfred will be willing to talk to him about it later.

With those thoughts heavy on his mind, it’s hard from him to be fully focused as he directs cars to stop before him one by one. More guests in fancy suits and elegant dresses step out and walk into the ballroom, only a few bothering to greet him as they go. His mind keeps drifting as he pastes on a smile and waves to drivers as they leave.

He stays outside for another hour before the last of the cars leave. The gala is in full swing when he ducks inside, sticking to the walls as Gotham’s richest mingle together in the ballroom. The low murmur of voices fill the air alongside the music, high strings playing a soft melody to fill the background as people wander around with glasses of champagne in hand, nibbling on finger foods.

Bruce is the center of attention, smiling jovially in a dark blue suit, the first two buttons of his silk shirt undone.

It’s hard to see him as a once grieving child, full of rage and determination, ready to take on the world. Bruce as he is now looks like a perfect socialite, surrounded by a small crowd of people all vying for his attention as he talks loudly, gesturing with broad movements, keeping their attention.

Tim is hanging off to the side near the musician, talking to a small group of people his age. They all look more relaxed and down to earth than any of the older people, so perhaps there’s hope for the next generation of Gotham’s high society.

Danny wanders a bit to make sure everything’s going well, checking in with the other staff members to see if there’s anything he can help with. But they have everything under control, so he can do nothing but try not to mess with the sleeves of his suit as he keeps circling the ballroom.

On his third circuit, Tim breaks away from his group and weaves around other guests to smoothly reach him.

“Is Damian here?” he asks, eyes darting around the ballroom.

Danny frowns. “I haven’t seen him. Did he come in with you?”

“He did, and then he left us as soon as we had greeted most of the guests. He’s supposed to stay out here for a few more hours, and I told him to just stick with me.”

“Where do you think he’s gone?”

Tim sighs, lowering his voice a bit. “He could be anywhere, honestly. He hates galas, which I get, but we needed him here because he’s Bruce’s bio kid. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if Damian went downstairs to get away.”

If Damian ditched the gala to go punch criminals, that would be bad, to say the least.

“I’ll go look for him,” Danny says. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I can get him back up here.”

“Thanks, Danny. I gotta get back to it. Also,” Tim adds in a whisper, “Don’t worry if Bruce seems like a different person or super drunk. He’s really good at acting.”

“Okay…?”

Danny’s not really sure what that has to do with him, but he appreciates the heads up anyways. He’s been excusing all of Bruce’s weirdness as either ‘Batman-related’ or ‘none of his business’, so he’s fine ignoring whatever Bruce gets up to tonight as well.

Now that he has a task to complete, Danny gladly leaves the ballroom to find Damian.

He starts off checking the sitting rooms, which already have a few of the guests lounging in, drinking wine and gossiping. The other areas that guests can access are all Damian-free, which is about what he expected.

Danny moves on past the rope barriers, nodding to some of the security guards walk by on their patrol, ensuring no guests, invited or otherwise, go deeper into the Manor.

The kitchen is empty. As are the living rooms on the ground floor.

Maybe Damian’s in his bedroom? Or his art studio. Those are the only two other places Danny would think to find Damian that’s not the Batcave.

He just really doesn’t want to go down there again. Especially not on his own.

Just as he reaches the top of the stairs to the second floor, Danny sees someone walking down the hall. It’s not Damian, far too tall to be a teenage boy, and they’re moving slowly, looking around as if searching for something.

“Hey!” Danny calls out to them, striding towards them quickly. “You’re not supposed to be up here.”

They turn, and Danny recognizes the uniform for the security guards that are meant to be at their positions around the ballroom. This man has taken off his jacket, leaving him in a simple button down shirt and dark pants, a gun tucked into a hostler by his hip.

“Oh, sorry, I thought I heard something up here and went to check it out.”

“This is pretty far from the ballroom. It would be hard to hear anything here from where you were supposed to be. Wanna try that one again?”

The easygoing smile on the guard’s face disappears, replaced by a dark scowl and a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Listen kid, this will be easier for all of us if you just walk away now. Don’t make me do anything you’ll regret.” He puts his hand on the holster. The threat is clear.

But Danny’s had guns pointed at him from years. He’s dodged shots from his own parents. One guy isn’t going to scare him.

“It would be easier if you just went back to you post and did the job you were paid to do.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m doing exactly what I was paid to do.” He grins, sharp and mean, and pulls out his gun.

Okay! Great!

Danny’s not nice anymore. And Alfred already gave him permission to do anything he deems necessary.

In a blink, Danny’s closed the distance between them and tosses the man over his shoulder. He kicks the gun out of his hand and is about to try to flip him over so he can put the guard in a shoulder pin, but a knee slams into his stomach, knocking the breath out of him.

Danny wheezes and is kicked back, stumbling to keep his balance. The guard rises to his feet and lunges forward, throwing a straight punch. It’s easy enough to dodge it, ducking to the side and stepping closer to try to knock the guard down again, but he pulls his arm back a bit, bends it, and slams his elbow into Danny’s face.

Pain races through his skull as he falls back, hands flying up to his nose. It’s probably broken, already gushing blood, and it stains his teeth as he bares them in a snarl and grabs hold of his ghost powers.

Teeth sharpen into fangs. His eyesight gets sharper, the iron taste of blood stronger in his mouth, and icy fog wafts out of his mouth.

“The fuck—” is all the guard is able to say before Danny tackles him. The force of it knocks them both to the ground, the guard’s head hitting the floor hard. He tries to force Danny off of him again, but Danny holds tight, blood still dripping off his face. “No one said the Waynes has a fucking meta with them!”

“Bad luck,” Danny says, a growl turning his voice into a low rumble, staticky even to his own ears, and the guard pales.

All it takes is one hand to lift him but his shirt, the fabric of it held tight in his hands. And then Danny slams him back against the ground, making his head bounce, and the guard is out cold.

He means to drag the guard someplace where he can be locked away until someone can deal with him, but screams rise up from the ballroom, stealing away his attention.

Shit, something must have happened!

As much as he wants to go racing back to help, his priority is Damian.

The other guests will be protected by the guards (hopefully) and Bruce and Tim. But Damian is unaccounted for, and the longer Danny can’t find him, the more danger he’ll be in.

There’s no point in being discrete or quiet now. Danny runs down the hallway, shouting Damian’s name.

He doesn’t get any response.

His nose throbs with dull pain each step he takes. His suit is a lost cause, covered in his blood and rumpled from the fight. None of that matters at all as he races down the halls, trying to find Damian.

Distantly, he hears gunshots and more screaming from the ballroom.

Danny grits his teeth and gives up on running entirely to fly recklessly through walls, dreading every second that passes.

The second floor is empty, save for the prone figure of the guard lying in the hallway near the stairs. He doesn’t have time to search any higher floors, so Danny goes back down to the ground floor, hoping that the noise from the ballroom would have drawn Damian out. He’s bound to have heard it, wherever he is in the Manor.

He drops back down to this feet and pushes his ghostliness away as he draws closer to the ballroom, wary of running into someone. It doesn’t seem like any of the guests had been able to get out of the ballroom.

Every so often, there’s a single gun shot. The sound chills him to the bone.

Just as he’s getting closer to the open areas of the Manor, within the rope boundaries he set up with Alfred earlier, he hears a noise in a sitting room that makes him slow to a stop, listening intently. It’s a soft noise, at first. Just a few clinks of objects being moved. Then there are heavy footsteps moving slowly.

Whoever it is can’t be Damian. He would never be so loud when he walks.

The door is partially open, so Danny peeks in to see who it is.

It’s not a guard. It’s not any member of the staff that arrive to work the gala.

In front of a broken window is a large man with a dark orange bandana tied around his nose and mouth, obscuring the bottom half of his face. He’s twitchy, pacing back and forth unsteadily, mumbling to himself. When he turns, the light catches on a glint in his eyes, the same drugged sheen that’s been present with other people who have attacked members of the Wayne household.

Danny plans to creep in and knock him out so there’s one less person to worry about when a large hand grabs the back of his suit and lifts him up like he weighs nothing. A startled noise slips out of his mouth, making the man in the room whirl around, glaring at him.

“Caught a peeper!” announces the man holding up Danny. He’s large, bigger than a bodybuilding, like the one Danny fought in the mall. “Think Boss will give us more Venom if we drag this thing in?”

The other guy looks over Danny consideringly. “Nah. Bring him here. We can deal with him on our own.”

The not-body building walks into the room, unbothered by how Danny struggles in his hold, kicking out at the air.

Danny’s thrown unceremoniously onto the floor, where he turns into a roll and gets back up to his feet, carefully keeping both of them in his line sight.

“Oooh, he thinks he’s a fighter,” not-body builder cackles.

Danny glances at the door.

“Don’t even think about running,” the first man says. “You work here, don’t you? Why don’t you tell us all about the goodies we can steal from this place. Make us rich and I’ll let you walk away alive.”

All this just for a robbery?

The guns, the break in, the violence, just for a robbery?

That’s fucking insulting.

Danny checks the open door one more time to make sure no one’s coming their way, then launches himself at not-body builder. His ghost strength comes rushing back into him just as he hits, sending the not-body builder stumbling back with a surprised shout. He wobbles, trying to keep his balance, then falls.

He doesn’t waste a second before kicking his head and knocking him out.

That’s one down.

Danny takes a deep breath, trying to wrestle down his strength so he doesn’t accidentally do serious damage to the other man, who is much smaller, only to gasp, breath punched out of him. A sharp pain tears through his back, which was left open to the other intruder.

Stupid, stupid! he berates himself, trying to get away.

But the man holds him still with a hand on his shoulder, and Danny, in his panic, goes intangible.

The knife and the man’s arm go right through his torso.

Danny looks down at the knife. Looks at the arm. Both of them are frozen from this sudden turn of events.

His mind goes blank and he desperately tries to think of what to do when an idea parades itself to the front of him mind, to say: IMPROV.

“What the hell did you do to me?!” Danny cries out, putting as much terror into his voice as possible.

“What did I do?” the intruder sputters, pulling back. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Yes you did!” Danny argues. “I’m fucking air! You made me not-solid!”

“That wasn’t me!”

Taking a chance, Danny recalls what the guard upstairs said, and says, “You’re a meta?!”

“I’m not!” the intruder denies, “I didn’t do this to you!”

Danny spins around to face him, trying not to wince when the movement pulls at his back. “Fix this!”

“I can’t! I told you, I didn’t do it! This must be your doing!”

“I think I would know if I could turn into air,” Danny refutes, channelling Paulina to give him a withering look that will, hopefully, make him feel small and stupid. She always was great at digging her heels in and driving people mad with her stubbornness while tearing down their self esteem. He tosses his head back to glare at the intruder, meeting his eyes. “This is clearly your fault so fix it!”

They’re just going back and forth, thrown off their rhythm and scrambling to work though the situation Danny created for them. He doesn’t know how to put a stop to it. He really doesn’t want to be stabbed again.

“I really didn’t do it!” the intruder insists. He looks down at his own hands, faltering. “Right? There’s no way that could have been me…”

He doesn’t get any more time to contemplate whether or not he has powers because his body abruptly tenses, twitches sporadically, and then his eyes roll up and he passes out.

Behind him, holding a taser and wearing a deep scowl, is Damian.

Danny is so relieved to see him that he feels weak in the knees. The blood loss is not helping with that matter. “Damian!” he says, “Where were you? I’ve been looking for you!”

“I felt that something was off so I went to investigate. I found some of the guards marking areas around the ballroom as entries for the gang that’s taken over the ballroom. I was trying to take them out before this happened, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

“What is going on right now?”

“From what I heard when I traversed the vents above the ballroom, the leader of a recently established gang has taken over to take the valuables of all the guests. He is recreating Venom and trying to replace Bane.” Damian shakes his head. “That fool is just going to get himself killed. Bane will stop at nothing to have his head now.”

“I take it this Bane person is a big deal?”

Danny purses his lips, then looks away. “We’ll catch you up on the villains around here later. Come with me, there are others still around.”

“Are we going to the ballroom?”

“No. Black Bat and Nightwing are already here to take care of it. They’re just waiting for an opening. We will be taking out the intruders outside the ballroom, then going to the Batcave to join Pennyworth.”

Damian tries to take hold of Danny’s wrist, but his hand goes right through. He stares down at it in shock, as though he was betrayed.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Danny drops his intangibility and pats Damian’s hand to let him know he’s solid again.

Damian looks up at him and squints. “Are you alright? You’re bleeding.”

Danny brings a hand up to his face. It’s clean of blood. He must have let it all fall off of him when he went intangible, but his nose is still bleeding and it’s quickly rolling down his face again. He can feel his back get more wet, too, the stab wound steadily pulsing with pain, blood spreading through his suit.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Danny says. He’s survived way worse than a broken nose and a small stab wound. There are people in danger and people trying to hurt them. That takes priority over him, any day.

“Your nose?”

Danny shrugs. “Probably not broken?”

Damian reaches out and prods at his nose, checking it. It brings up flares of dull pain, but it’s not enough that Danny can’t stay still during this. In a matter of seconds, Damian nods and pulls his hands away, so the damage to his face probably isn’t anything to worry about. Danny’s going to trust Damian on this one.

“Very well. Let’s go then. And take this.” Damian holds out his taser to Danny.

“Um. Don’t you need it?”

“I am more than capable of taking people down without weapons. You need this more than I do.”

That’s fair. Danny gingerly takes the taser, keeping his thumb above the switch that will flip it on and have it buzzing with electricity. He follows Damian’s lead as they creep down the hall, staying low and quiet on their feet. Damian keeps in the lead, checking that it’s safe to move before signaling for Danny to follow.

They take out three more intruders before the lights in the Manor flicker and then go out. Noise swells up in the ballroom before another gunshot silences it.

Danny tenses, fearing the worst, but Damian reaches back to squeeze his hand and whisper, “It’s alright. That was the moment Black Bat and Nightwing were waiting for. They’ll take care of it.”

When he strains his hearing, he can just pick out the shattering of glass and muffled cries of pain. He doesn’t hear anyone’s voices, but as long as no one is screaming, it’s fine. Probably. He hopes, anyways.

They circle around the ballroom, checking room and hallways, but it seems that most of the intruders didn’t bother hanging around out here when all their targets were conveniently in one large room. Having cleared out all the intruders they could, Damian leads them to Bruce’s office.

“What are we doing here?” Danny asks, keeping his voice low as he keeps one eye on the door to ensure no one comes in.

“We’re going to the Batcave,” Damian answers absentmindedly as he fiddles with a grandfather clock behind a desk.

Danny blinks. “Wait, we go in from here?”

“Look.” Danny looks to where Damian has opened up the grandfather clock to reveal a dark staircase that leads down, deep beneath the Manor.

“Huh,” is all Danny can say to that. It’s definitely safer than just falling through the floor like Danny did, but somehow it feels a little anticlimactic. It’s just stairs. It’s very hard to make stairs cool.

They could have at least put in a fire pole.

A giant underground vigilante cave and not a single fire pole to slide down on? What’s the point then?

Danny holds back a sigh, then grimaces at the heavy taste of blood in his mouth. His nose isn’t hurting as much anymore, just a dull throb, and it’s easily ignored when his back flares with pain with each minute movement. He looks down at the stairs as Damian begins his descent, already wincing at how much it’s going to stuck going down them with a stab wound.

He could really use that fire pole right now.

Or, actually, why bother taking the stairs? Danny’s half-ghost. It needs to be good for something.

Danny promptly goes ghost, flies down into the cave completely invisible and intangible, then drops back to the ground in a quick flash of light, human again. He intends to stand up and wait where there’s more light, but his head suddenly spins as his vision goes dark. There’s a buzzing in his ears and he gets a strange, floating feeling, as if he’s no longer in his body, just drifting out into open air.

The floor is cold against his cheek. The floor is…

The floor?

Danny blinks his eyes open, wondering when he closed them. It takes a moment to realize that he’s lying down, somehow, on his back in some dark corner of the cave. There’s a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

He tries to say something but his voice dies halfway out of his throat. A few more blinks has his eyes clearing enough that he can see Damian crouched in front of him, looking over his head, mouth moving as he speaks, though Danny can’t hear anything. His ears are still ringing.

The world sways around him.

He closes his eyes trying to count his breaths so the world will feel more solid around him. Wayne Manor just got attacked. Now is not the time to be lying around.

But he can’t force himself to get up. His body refuses to respond to him. All he can do is lie on the floor of the cave, trying to get his head to stop spinning, feeling the heat of the wound in his back as it presses against cold stone.

Arms wind around him, lifting him up, and Danny whines as it jostles him. More blood spills out of his stab wound, soaking his suit even more. Distantly, he hears someone curse as he’s moved into a more brightly lit area. It’s too bright, even with his eyes closed, and Danny turns his face, trying to hide from it.

A hand runs through his hair, soothing him. He’s carefully set down on something—a bed?

So they can have soft, high quality beds in their vigilante cave, but no fire poles. The Waynes need to get their priorities straight.

He tries to say something about that, but just mumbles out some slurred, nonsense sounds.

Someone hushes him kindly. The hand keeps brushing his hair back soothingly.

And then—

His shirt.

They’re opening his shirt.

They’re taking off his jacket.

Danny is laid out, helpless, held down, and they’re stripping him of his clothes. Terror slams into him like a train, ice in his veins chilling him from the inside out. His eyes snap open and his blurry vision catches sight of two heads bend down over him, features dark and unrecognizable, backlit by the light shining too brightly right above his face.

His breath stutters in his chest as he stares at them, horrified and betrayed.

What are they doing to him?!

Panicked, Danny beings to thrash, adrenaline surging through it. It dulls his pain, lifts the lead from his limbs, makes him gather enough strength to try to push them away. More hands appear, trying to hold him down and a hoarse scream tears out of his throat. It doesn’t have any power, can’t throw them away from him, and stutters to a stop a few seconds later.

“No!” he cries, tears leaking out of his eyes. “No, stop! Don’t, please don’t do this to me…”

A sob catches in his chest so hard is hurts.

The people above him speak over each other, their words melding together. He doesn’t know what they’re saying, just that they’re speaking, but it does nothing to calm him down.

How can he be calm?

They’re trying to cut him open.

He tries to go ghost and his entire body lights up in pain, back arching off the bed as he screams again.

The lights go out. The hands disappear.

The world goes still.

Danny heaves for breath, shivering.

It takes a long time before he feels solid again. Less likely to shake out of his own body. He doesn’t know what just happened. He should be able to go full ghost, but he entire body refused. It hurt and hurt and hurt and he doesn’t understand why.

It’s not just a failure of his powers, but a betrayal.

Slowly, he begins to breathe evenly. His entire body still hurts, but it’s the pain of a bruise, not an electric current running through the whole of him. The world steadies itself and his vision clears up properly.

Something cold touches his hand.

Danny flinches back, then looks up to see Alfred.

Alfred, who’s aged face is lined with deep concern. Who stands just close enough to hold out the water bottle to Danny. Who doesn’t crowd him or demand answers.

Alfred, who is safe.

Without thinking about it, Danny sags towards him. Alfred has to step closer, steady him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Danny, my boy,” he says, “Can you hear me now?”

Now? Was Alfred speaking earlier?

Danny nods, blinking up at him.

“Wonderful. Do you think you could drink some water?”

Another nod. He looks down at the water bottle and its unsealed cap, then his own trembling hands. He doesn’t think he can open it.

Before he can ask Alfred for help, another hand appears in his line of sight, from the other side of the bed. Damian grabs the water bottle and twists it open, then shoves it into Danny’s hands with a click of his tongue.

He doesn’t let go until he’s sure Danny has a solid grip on it.

Danny tries to thank him, but his throat clicks from how sore and dry it is. He drinks half the bottle in one go, clears his throat, and is able to say, “Sorry about that.”

“There’s no need to be sorry,” Alfred says, just as Damian says, “If you’re sorry, then take off your shirt so we can tend to you. You’re injured.”

Alfred turns to Damian with a severe look on his face and Danny hurries to intervene before things can get messy. Or, messier.

“Right. Sorry. Again. It’s not a big deal, it’s just a small stab wound.”

“A stab wound?” Alfred repeats. “Danny, please let me tend to it. It may need stitches.”

“It doesn’t—”

“You don’t know that,” Damian hisses. “Let Pennyworth help you, or I’ll do it myself. And you won’t like it if I do it myself.”

Danny is ready to refuse again, but the clear concern in Alfred’s eyes stops him.

He does need help. He doesn’t want to cause trouble for Alfred.

“Fine,” he bites out. “But don’t—don’t touch me if you can avoid it and don’t ask any question.” He doesn’t give himself a chance to second guess, just pulls at his shirt and suit coat, going intangible to get it off him without lifting his arms. Strangely, that doesn’t hurt the way trying to go full ghost did.

Something to consider later.

The silence that follows is heavy. Danny can’t stand it; he wants to hide away, to rewind the last hour so he can undo what he’s just done, pretend he’s still fine. All his scars are on display. The arcs of electricity from the Accident that have embedded themselves into his skin, close calls from ghost fights that were bad enough to leave a mark in his human form, the burns from his parents inventions locking onto him before he was able to deactivate them.

Alfred lets out a slow breath. Then he says, “Master Damian, if you could get—”

“Of course.” And Damian is up and moving, the light above him turning on. It’s much dimmer than it was before.

“If you could please turn around, Danny. I need to see what I’m working with.”

Danny forces himself to turn, showing his back to Alfred. He’s tense, every inch of him ready to run.

It’s Alfred, he tells himself sternly. Alfred won’t hurt him. He’s safe.

Damian returns, handing something off to Alfred. He can hear them move, hear things being prepped behind him, metal against metal, and another sliver of terror runs down his spine.

“Stop,” he says without meaning to.

The cave goes quiet again, both Damian and Alfred freezing. Danny swallows roughly, then turns back to face them. “I can’t,” he chokes out. “I can’t—I need—I need to be able to see you.”

“Then I’ll do your stitches,” Damian announces. He rounds the bed, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. “I am more than capable. Even before I came to Gotham I had learned how to provide medical aid both in practice and on the field.”

“I’ll be right here,” Alfred reassures him. “Master Damian is very capable. He will do a good job at this.”

Danny nods, taking in a shaky breath. “Okay. Okay. Then, please, Damian.”

“I’ll apply the local anesthesia now. This will keep you from feeling the stitches go in.” Danny tenses, and then the area around his stab wound goes numb, the pain dulling.

Alfred takes hold of his hands. “Breathe with me,” he instructs. Danny does his best, keeping his eyes on Alfred, matching him with each deep, even breath.

He tries not to be too tense, to think about when Damian will begin, if he’s already started, all the questions they will ask him about his many scars…

“Done,” Damian announces.

…What?

“What? Already?”

“Yes,” Damian says, a pleased note in his voice. “I told you I knew what I was doing. I’m going to put the bandage on it now. Do not get it wet.”

His back and shoulder are still numb enough that he doesn’t feel the bandage get put on, so he just takes Damian’s word for it. That wasn’t as bad as he expected it to be. In fact, that went really well? Fast, too. Danny would have never been able to stitch himself in that time.

Alfred squeezes his hands, leads him through a few more breaths, then pulls away. He helps Danny lie on his side and pulls the blanket up over him.

“Get some rest now, Danny. I’ll be here while you sleep.”

“Wait, the gala. Is everyone…?”

“Everyone is alright. The police had been contacted and will be here soon. Nightwing and Black Bat have the situation under control. There is nothing more you need to do.” A hand drops over Danny’s eyes, blocking out the light. “You can rest now, Danny.”

He’s sure that he won’t be able to sleep at all, let alone soundly, after all that. But his body has other ideas and in no time he’s pulled under into that deep darkness that shuts away the rest of the world and lets him drift away. . . .

(The scar map of Danny is being uploaded into the Batcomputer’s archives when Nightwing arrives, carrying a plate full of finger foods pilfered from the gala.

“Where’s Danny?!” he demands, sweeping his gaze across the entirety of the Batcave. He sees Danny curled up in a medical cot before Alfred can answer. “What happened?”

“He was stabbed,” Damian answers nonchalantly from where he’s going through sword katas to work out some of his more volatile emotions.

“Stabbed?!”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

Cass appears behind Nightwing, already shedding parts of her uniform. She steals something from the plate in Nightwing’s hand and is about to eat it when he hisses, “That’s for Danny!”

She slowly puts it back on the plate.

Alfred watches her stare at Danny in the medical cot, then turn on her heel to go to the lockers to change out of the rest of her suit.

“Miss Cassandra, if you could please pick up all your clothes off the floor,” he says as she walks. Cass darts back to pick up everything she dropped behind Nightwing, then disappears into the locker room.

Nightwing finally shakes himself out of his stupor and makes his way over to Alfred, setting the plate down next to him. “Seriously, is Danny alright?”

Alfred places his hands on the desk, palms flat against it, and very calmly says, “Hunting down every person who has ever hurt him will be the last mission I ever go out on.”

“Shit.”

In any other case, he would have reprimanded Nightwing’s language. In this case, it’s the only appropriate response.

“Once the police are gone and the guests seen off, we need to have another family discussion. Danny is a very brave and very strong lad, but he’s gone through far too much. We must do better.”

“I’ll call the war council then.”

“See that you do, Nightwing.”

Alfred nods to him, then pulls the chair away from the Batcomputer to Danny’s medical cot, and sits with him. Looking down at his thin, worn face, Alfred is reminded of Bruce, in the aftermath of his parents’ murder, of Dick’s first nights in the Manor, of Jason and his nightmares, Tim and his loneliness. Now, Danny and his fear will join the expressions he never wants to see on his family again.

He is so young, so fragile, so bright and wonderful despite it all.

Yes, war council is the only appropriate way to move forward. It is the least he can do for Danny, so do it he will.)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #those who serve #butler danny au #alfred's apprentice au #my writing #ough im so tiredddd i wrote this in three days while at work #so much happening here.... i cant recount all my thoughts. just look at it. read it. its all in there #if u see any typos no u dont. i'll fix those eventually

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