#just let me hand you my employment history and be done with it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luxaofhesperides · 2 years ago

Text

those who serve.

CHAPTER THREE: a transition.

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

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

“Is there anyone else who works here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” he manages to get out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Slept in,” she says, “Smoothie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know ASL.”

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

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

“Cass,” she says. “Welcome.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Danny is so close to failing step one.

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

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

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

“I suppose so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cass,” he says, “You scared me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is way too much.

Abruptly, Danny feels lightheaded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, despite all his doubts, Danny believes him.

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

He sleeps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s unnerving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s your favorite hero?”

…What. What?

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

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

“I don’t really have one.”

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

“Um.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Favorite superhero,” Tim answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The what now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heroes are real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Superman and Martian Manhunter,” Tim helpfully supplies.

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

“Sure is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breakfast?

Do stuff????

Job accomplished.

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

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

No one’s around.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to learn,” Danny insists.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now, what do you feel like eating?”

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

“That won’t do at all.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you awake right now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The last time someone snuck up on him like that—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was open.”

“I was sitting there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Wayne,” Danny says, very calmly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Danny turns to Tim. “Help.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And what can he say to that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

“Tam?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

How bad can one shopping trip be?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He intends to make the most of it.)

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

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donnalawliet · 4 months ago

Text

The Kennedy Fiasco (oneshot TUA/MCU crossover)

It is the year 1963. And while Diego Hargreeves and Erik Lehnsherr do their best to save the president, the two deadliest assassins, Five Hargreeves and the Wintersoldier, are tasked with killing JFK. Chaos ensues, along with a lot of feels.

An Umbrella Academy/Marvel crossover.

(inspired by a tumblr post of mine: https://www.tumblr.com/donnalawliet/757653913223774208/cherikdogfood-i-love-that-thought-it-makes-me?source=share )

Thank you @cherikdogfood for giving me ideas and supporting me. And thank you @i-am-tardis-locked for listening to my rants.

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September 1st, 1963

When he agreed to Five’s last minute plan to time travel, Diego had expected that they would go back a year at most and solve it all together. None of these things ended up being true. He landed in a dark alleyway alone, in a place and time completely foreign to him. His siblings were nowhere to be found.

Before he could fully process the situation, cries for help reached his ear and something inside of him activitated. After years of “working“ as a vigilante, his need to protect had only gotten stronger. So without looking back or rethinking it, he started running after the man clearly trying to steal a woman’s handbag. Diego’s hand automatically reached for one of his knives and as soon as he threw it, the knife obeyed his command to go where he wanted it to go. He barely even thought about it. Pinning the man to a pole was easy and retrieving the handbag to hand it back didn’t even register as a conscious action. A job well done.

The sound of a TV distracted him though. It was quite boxy, not one of those flatscreen televisions he was used to in 2019. And it broadcasted a face and voice that he only remembered from his history lessons back at the academy. The 35th president of the United States, John F. Kennedy.

As Diego realised what situation he truly found himself in, a thought materialised in his mind. He had been given an opportunity to change history. To make things right. To save a person far more important than a woman with a stolen handbag.

He had the opportunity to save the president.

November 20th, 1963

Five was exhausted and that was putting it mildly.He had failed to save the world in 2019 and now, in 1963, he had to do it all over again. And as the cherry on top, he had to see a face again that he had so desperately hoped to never encounter in his entire life once more.

“Under my leadership, the Commission would sound more like…jazz“, the Handler grinned and mimicked the soft rhythm of jazz music. Five was slowly starting to get impatient. He was only staying around in the hope of one clue, one detail that would help him. So far, nothing. Her words didn’t make sense.

“What about the board of directors?“, he ased, allowing himself to sound cocky.

It was more of a rhetorical question than anything else. Something to get his former employer to reveal what she was planning.

But her response sent a shiver down his spine: “Well, that’s where you come in!“

Five knew that tone all too well. He had heard it many times before, when she had confronted him with a job. Another face, another name, another correction in the timeline. Princess Diana of Wales, Josef Stalin, John F. Kennedy, Hindenburg…

“Nope. No, it isn’t.“

He knew deep down that his response wouldn’t change her mind. Not just yet. Just like she knew that he wasn’t completely turned off by the offer.

The Handler hummed and stood, making her way around him so he was forced to turn around and look up. Five hated the way he had to look up at every one in this body, it didn’t make enforcing his authority any easier.

“In exchange for the assassination of the board…along with the completion of your last failed job…I’m willing to get you and your family out of this timeline and back to 2019, where you belong.“

In that moment, Five did his best to not let any emotions slip past his mask. He knew of course what job she was referring to. The one he didn’t complete. The last job he worked for the Commission before breaking his contract. Though he knew that another organisation, one he knew all too well, had also been interested in getting the job done, the Commissiom had been the one to complete it. Or at least, they had tried. And now, she wanted him to take off where he had left.

In order to save his family, Five had to kill the board of directors…and shoot John F.Kennedy.

As soon as the Handler returned to the Commission, she began to prepare her backup plan. While she was fairly certain that Five would take her deal-his protectiveness for his siblings made him too predictable sometimes; she wanted to make sure the job got done. And so, instead of heading straight to her office, she made her way to a door that lead down into the basement. Only the click of her high heels echoed through the hallway.

The Handler missed the times when Five still worked under her. Back when he was fresh out of the apocalypse, malnourished and in need of training, he had done everything she commanded. Including fighting the second best assassin in the timeline. She hadn’t even given him a reason and there hadn’t been even a valid reason for it. The Handler had simply wanted to see who would win.

And after cooperating with the company that owned the second best assassin for some augmentations…Five had turned out to be even more powerful. He was truly the deadliest assassin. Even deadlier than…

Her lips curled upwards as she stopped before a capsule, frozen over with ice.

“The Wintersoldier.“

After he had received his father’s invitation for a “light supper“, Diego needed to blow off some steam. Though Luther was far easier to talk to now than he had been a few months ago, it didn’t change the fact that he was angry. Angry at his father for using them in sick experiments for whatever, angry at Lila for leaving, angry at…the fact that Five refused to take action and help him save the president. He had no idea why that was so hard for his brother, who often claimed that he could do anything.

And so, he made his way to a bar. Not to drink, of course, but to play darts, use his powers to maybe earn a few dollars. It was cheating, but he couldn’t care less. All of the darts that he threw hit the tripple twenty, he barely had to think about it. Diego was so immersed in his outlet, he didn’t even realise that he was being watched.

Erik was not like Charles. He couldn’t detect mutants with a machine from miles away. But he had common sense. And while watching Diego play darts in that bar, he recognised the way some of the darts curved before hitting their target. He had done it before with missiles and bullets. That sense of familiarity caused Erik to smile and walk over. Despite leaving Charles behind, he wasn’t alone. Not only was the president like him, but now he had found another one of his kind.

“You’re quite good at that“, he commented and tilted his head. Sometimes, Erik wished that he could take a look in people’s heads the way Charles could, but he also liked figuring some things out on his own. The man in front of him, apparently Latino, possessed quite a few scars, signs of battle and injuries. But what caused him to frown was a tattoo on his wrist, in the shape of an umbrella. Erik didn’t even know why it reminded him of the numbers permanently etched onto his skin, but it did. It was a sign of ownership and control.

Diego turned towards him while throwing a dart, which still hit the bullseye.

“Yeah, thanks. It’s not that hard though“, he replied, before muttering under his breath, “I wish saving the president was just as easy.“

Despite it just being a whisper, a small expression of his thoughts, Erik heard half of it.

“What was that?“, he asked and his expression went from a smile to a frown. There was more to it and he was going to figure out what.

However, Diego shrugged it off and sat down. After spending some time in an asylum, in the 1960s no less, he had grown used to people ignoring what he said.

“You wouldn’t believe me, even if I told you.“

Erik hummed and picked up a nearby coin that had been left behind as a tip. Just so Diego could see, he let it float above his palm. A small gesture, to say something that couldn’t be said aloud: We’re the same. You can trust me.

“Why don’t you just tell me and let me be the judge of that?“, Erik asked, handing the coin over to the bartender to get another drink.

Diego stared at the coin for a few moments. No one had taken him seriously before. He was alone on Team Zero, if he was being honest with himself. And in Erik’s eyes, he just saw understanding. So he took a deep breath and nodded.

“Alright. I’ll tell you.“

November 22nd, 1963

After slaughtering the board of directors, Five expected to feel disgusted. He had tried to swear off killing after all. It was supposed to be just one last time, to protect his family. To save them from doomsday.

But instead, it had felt right. Of course, he would deny it if anyone asked. To himself though, lying wasn’t an option, though he had tried it for 58 years of his life. He had grinned as he stood there, covered in blood and holding an axe like a medieval executioner. Watching AJ beg for his life, it had been like music.

And he hated it. Five hated himself for enjoying it. The Handler had made him a killer…or had he really always been one?

Had someone else, the Commission or the organisation that had sharpened his reflexes and mind, made him out to be the world’s deadliest assassin, now stuck inside a teenager’s body? Or was it just him?

Not a programming, telling him what to do, not some foreign DNA dictating his urges…None of that.

Five quickly abandoned the thought. He had more pressing matters at hand.

“Alright“, he told himself and closed the case containing the sniper rifle, “One last time.“

Meanwhile, Erik had a plan. Diego had told him what was going to happen and even though it sounded outlandish, insane even…he couldn’t allow that to happen. He had to keep the president safe, he couldn’t allow anyone to take a shot at him. Kennedy was one of them, loosing him would be catastrophic.

Even if Diego was just an insane wayward mutant, the risk was too great. He wouldn’t take any chances. Shortly after their conversation, Diego disappeared. And even though he could have been useful, Erik decided not to look for him.

So after putting a hat and sunglasses on, he made his way to the grassy knoll.

Five always felt a certain sense of peace while setting up his crime. Arranging his gun and utensils the way he wanted, getting the perfect angle. It grounded him.He enjoyed the calm before the storm, it was the favourite part of his job. But he didn’t know that this time, he wasn’t the only one setting up this assassination under the Handler’s orders.

Not even three hundred feet away from him, the Wintersoldier was hidden behind a small wall. His orders had been clear. If Number Five failed to accomplish his task, he was to take his shot, to make sure the target would be eradicated. His movements in setting up the sniper were pure efficiency, nothing more.

He barely remembered the seconds upon waking up, just that there had been a woman and her red lips had been moving. The first sentence coming out of his mouth had been the only one that mattered: Ready to comply.

Diego’s day had really not been the greatest. He had been kidnapped and betrayed by the woman he loved, then thrown back into 1963 to stop Viktor from blowing up the FBI building. The bright light had hurt his eyes as he made his way forward, all of his muscles strained in an effort to bring himself forward. But eventually, he lost his grip and the world went black for him.

When he woke up however, soft rays of sunlight illuminated the hallway. And despite the way his body ached, relief washed over him as he spotted Viktor coming towards them, safe and sound. They had suceeded.

“You’re alive“, was the sentence that came out of his mouth and a soft smile appeared on his face. Diego had done it, his brother and the world was safe.

But then, through his dizzy mind, a thought dawned on him. He quickly glanced down at his watch and cursed himself mentally. Of course he wasn’t done yet, there was still one thing left. The very thing he had tasked himself with.

“Kennedy is a few minutes away“, he stated and pushed himself up, ignoring the way his body protested, “I can still save him.“

Diego barely heard Allison’s protests. Finally, he could do what he was meant to do. He could show Dad that he was wrong. Reginald Hargreeves didn’t make him a hero with his experiments, he himself did. And he would do that by stopping him, saving JFK in the process.

Erik was standing on the grassy knoll when Kennedy made his turn. While he didn’t appear busy on the outside, he was in deep concentration. No bullet could escape him like this, not one would even get close to the president.

But suddenly, he was pulled out of his concentration. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a person all clothed in black, running in his direction. After a few moments, he recognised Diego, the one who had warned him in the first place. Diego wasn’t running towards him however, but instead a man standing a few feet away from him, holding an umbrella on a sunny day.

How could he have been that blind? It was obvious, so out of place that anyone could have spotted it. But yet no one did. Just as Erik was about to help Diego with pinning the man down, he felt it.

Five had of course spotted Diego, tackling a random man on the grassy knoll. But he had no time to deal with his fool of a brother, he had to save him first. And so, he inhaled and exhaled deeply. He only focused on the target, which was Kennedy’s head.

“One last time“, he promised himself, then pulled the trigger.

The bullet didn’t reach its target. Erik managed to get ahold of it before it could reach Kennedy. Meanwhile, Diego had realised his mistake. The man he had tackled had merely been a distraction, set up by his villain of a father.

Before he could think about it further, a second bullet made its way towards the president. It didn’t come from Five this time, but wasn’t any less deadly. With Erik distracted and still holding the first bullet, Diego tried to instinctively change the curvature. A bullet was different than a knife though. He was exhausted, so his grip wasn’t as tight. And when Erik tried to help, they both lost their grip.

The bullet curved, but still found its intended target. They had failed. The 35th president of the United States, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, was dead.

The Wintersoldier relaxed a bit after watching his task be completed. He had done as told, he could go back, as commanded. Bucky Barnes may have cared about what happened after, but he didn’t. He had served his purpose.

Instead of relaxing, Five let out a string of curses. He had failed, again. The slaughtering of the board, it had all been for nothing. The deal was off and he didn’t know how to get his siblings back, even if the end of the world was no more. They didn’t belong here and without a briefcase, they had no way of returning to 2019.

“Damn it, Diego“, Five mumbled before he teleported, off to find another solution.

Diego felt like a child again as he looked up and ran. He had failed in his task, but worse, he had indirectly been the one to do it. For just a few seconds, the bullet had rested in the grip of his powers. If he had just held on…Kennedy would still be alive. He was no hero, he was a failure, just like his father had always told him. Always Number Two, doomed to fail from the very beginning. He would have to find his siblings, make sure they were okay. Maybe it hadn’t been about Kennedy in the first pace. Maybe Eudora had been right all along: You want to proove that back then, when your father had you running around in masks and uniforms, that it wasn’t for nothing.

Erik didn’t have enough time to run. And despite his best efforts, he was quickly surrounded by police. They were there to arrest him, for killing the president, despite his best efforts to save him. Quite ironic when he thought about it. He would have more time to reflect on it later. Erik tried to get free, willing the guns to point away from him. But there were too many policemen. He felt a small pinch in the side of his neck before his knees gave out and the world went dark.

In the end, the only person content with the results was the Handler. Even if Five would have succeeded, she never would have given him a fair chance to escape with his siblings. Like this, the timeline was preserved and she would be able to kill him for what he did to her. She would be the most powerful woman in the timeline, with no rogue assassin and his annoying family to challenge her claim. Before she could celebrate though, she would have to go to war.

John F.Kennedy’s death had merely been the start of…something.

#tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #five hargreeves #tua s2 #diego hargreeves #erik lehnsherr #winter soldier #bucky barnes #the handler #fanfic #feedback pls #john f kennedy

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fanficfish · 2 years ago

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Thomas ranch Au headcanons

main post

Currently about halfway done with the next fic chapter, so it's about time I get something out about one of the main players in this chapter....and unfortunately not my most liked character. Sorry Thomas, six year old me kinda cemented it when they saw you in a picture book with Rosie that made you two sound like a couple.

He has a kind of sketchy employment history, not like that's strange on this ranch. Except he does actually know what he's doing because he grew up on a horse ranch himself. Edward is very thankful for this little fact when the next three permanent guys are near clueless.

He's the original Sir Topham Hatt's favorite, a position he kind of fell into. Partly because unlike Edward he's much more naive and people-pleasing. He's actually a bit of a pain for quite a while.

eventually he wisens up a lot more after the incident that spawns Henry's Tunnel and even joins in to a degree on the strike, enabling them while trying to pretend he knows nothing ong don't of the Fat Controller (as the ranchers have begun calling Topham Hatt 1)

He and James have a sort of brotherly friendship dynamic, teasing each other a lot. when they're not busy with work, sometimes they go racing, with Thomas on Annie and James on his own favourite mare, Black Beauty (named after the one in the book)

Speaking of which, Thomas had two mares that Topham 1 let's him basically own, Annie and Clarabel. They help him take tours into the hills and he uses them whenever he needs to take visitors somewhere or get around himself. He usually takes Annie, since Clarabel is a little less suited for riding. Though her saddle does come with saddlebags.

He and Percy have a bit of a rivalry, which Toby calls his "free entertiainemnt". They stop bickering to team up against other people though, and once they faced off in a table tennis match against Henry and Gordon when the later two got a bit too snotty about a documentary filmed on the ranch that showcased the two managing the Express.

Thomas and Percy won that one, by the way. Thomas got lucky and Percy was just good at table tennis.

Thomas is really into fishing, and he and Henry occasionally use their off days to go deep-sea fishing. It's a good bribe in Thoams' books, especially if he says he'll pay the fees for the both of them. Duck likes those days because he gets to make seafood for dinner, and he likes to hear their adventures.

Thoams also has a bit of a jealousy streak, which creeps up when it looks like someone might take his favored job of showing visitors around due ranching style. Ryan, Percy, Toby, "Diesel", Rosie, and Daisy have all been victims of the green-eyes Thomas, though by the time brothers Charlie and Billy come around it's simmered down a little (read: Charles Topham Hatt finally pulls him aside and gets it improperly into his head that no one's going to take his horses or his tour route, please stop antagonizing everyone you meet-)

He plays the sax, guitar, and trumpet. One of these is less appreciated then the others by the ranch hands

He had a prank war with Gordon back when Thomas was the ranch's cook (and stablehand because everyone was overworked and multitasking). It ended when Gordon pretended not to notice poor Thomas was in the back of a hay cart Gordon was pulling and Thomas panicked because he doesn't like going as fast as Gordon decided to take his pace. Another reason he prefers guided tours- much more manageable speeds!

and of course, piccrews (not my art)

The second one is Donald and Douglas lugging him out after he flies into the wall of Simeon's house.

I can't decide on his hair :/

#ttte #ttte human au #ttte au #ttte thomas #ttte thomas headcanon #ttte humanisation #headcanon #fanfic #human au

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bi-bard · 2 years ago

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Wanted - Jake Imagine (Sweetbitter)

Title: Wanted

Pairing: Jake (Sweetbitter) X Reader

Word Count: 1,472 words

Warning(s): Jake being a dick, cussing

Summary: Jake made (Y/n) feel like nothing when they were working together. After some time away, a far more successful (Y/n) comes back to town only to run into the one face that they never wanted to see again.

Author's Note: Full disclosure: I could not shake this idea for the life of me because a few clips keep popping up on my TikTok. However, I have not watched this show or read the book. I only know the clips I've seen (I tried to look up some extra stuff, mostly for dialogue patterns) and the synopsis I read of the book (though this doesn't really discuss any elements of that plot, so it should be fine).

------------------------

Leaving New York City for a while was the best decision that I had made in years.

I had wasted so much time there. I only ended up miserable. When I had a chance to leave, I ran for the hills.

It took years for me to return to the city. I had a book to sell. Skipping New York City would have been a major mistake.

Not that I thought it would be a great idea. I ran for the hills for a reason. I wasn't exactly planning on coming back.

I was hoping to mind my own business. That the city would be big enough to avoid any problems that could come up. It's New York City. There are too many people for me to bump into the handful of people that I didn't want to see.

"(Y/n)?"

I was wrong.

I had just been wanting a coffee before my day of meetings. I took a deep breath, looking toward the direction I heard my name from.

"Jake," I said, trying to hide how badly I wanted to avoid him.

"It's been a few years, hasn't it," he asked.

"Yeah," I nodded, turning back to the menu. I had already made my decision, but his eyes were just as intense as I remembered. I didn't want to focus on them again.

"Big time writer now, huh," he chuckled. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," I muttered, glancing at him. Damn me and my need to always be nice, even when they were not nice to me.

"Let me buy you a coffee," he suggested. "Maybe we could talk... catch up?"

My glance allowed me to catch his eyes scanning me. I shook my head, covering up my smirk by pretending to scratch an itch on the side of my face.

"What do you say?"

"No," I said simply, chuckling at him as I stepped up to the counter.

"What-"

I ordered my drink without paying him any mind. I paid for the drink before he had snapped himself out of his shock.

"(Y/n)-"

"See you later, Jake."

I didn't look at him as I spoke and walked to the other end of the counter. I tried to make it incredibly clear that I didn't want to continue that conversation. He seemed to get the hint.

Jake and I had more history than anyone else at my old place of employment.

We had been working behind the bar together. I thought we were friends. Friends that had a flirtatious pattern of conversation. Friends that were possibly moving to more.

At least, that was my understanding. Especially after he had kissed me.

It was the end of our night. Cleaning, closing up. We were tired and ready to go home. I don't even remember what conversation we had been having.

I only remember his sentences trailing off as he looked around. He was checking the coast was clear as he backed me against the bar counter.

I couldn't question him before he had pressed his lips to mine. I just sat there in shock for a few moments before carefully kissing him back. It wasn't some long drawn-out moment. It just happened.

I hated that I still thought about the kiss. I hated that I could imagine it so vividly.

But more importantly, I hated that I couldn't have done anything to control what happened after the event.

It would've been one thing for him to wave it off or call it a mistake. I would've been hurt, but at least he would be straightforward about it.

Instead, he decided to insult me the moment I asked him about it. Pushing the idea that I was not going to ever be good enough for him or anyone. It was hell. I couldn't go to work without hearing shit from him and rumors travel fast in a work environment like that.

I was soon the obsessed co-worker that absolutely came onto him and now thought we were soulmates.

It's why I ran as soon as I could.

I thought that was the end of it. That I would only have to get through that one interaction and then I was done.

I was wrong. Again.

My team- I had a team now- wanted me to have a party since I was home. It was meant to be a reunion kind of thing. Friends and some members of my family that lived nearby.

It was my worst nightmare.

They invited my past coworkers without really warning me. All of them. Including Jake. It was like the air was knocked out of me. I had no choice other than to play it nice.

I think I got lucky that night. The stars aligned in my favor.

The party was surprisingly calm. Nothing went incredibly wrong. Those who hated me were happy to put on a smile now that I was a successful writer.

The only problem was the end of the night.

I had decided to help clean up. I was placing some garbage in a big bag when I spotted someone out on the balcony of the venue. I furrowed my eyebrows.

My confusion only lasted for a few moments before I realized who it was. Jake.

I placed the bag down and walked out onto the balcony.

"Party's clearing out," I said bluntly. "You can leave."

"Read your book, y'know," he commented. I sighed and walked toward the railing. I looked out at the view. "Your leading man was interesting. What was it... 'handsome enough to know he could use his looks to get whatever he wanted even if it hurt someone. Not like he would care anyway'."

I had to hide the proud smile that wanted to find its way to my lips.

"When did you become so self-aware?"

He scoffed. "When did you get so bitchy?"

"When you belittled me for having feelings for you in the same breath that you used to make out with me."

"I was a different guy," he said quietly. "I... I had some not great influences on my life-"

"Don't do that."

"Do what," he asked. "Explain my actions?"

"Make excuses for you not practicing basic human decency," I corrected. "You could've just rejected me. I would've preferred it if you never kissed me, but you didn't need to say all the things you did. You could've called it a mistake and moved on. Would've hurt enough. Not made my life hell for your actions."

"I... I didn't realize how much it hurt you," he mumbled. I rolled my eyes. "Will you look at me?"

I turned my head to look him in the eye.

"I'm sorry."

I never thought that feeling like you were punched in the gut could feel like a good thing. It was comforting though. Hearing him apologize. He was self-aware.

"I treated you like crap and you didn't deserve an ounce of that."

"Thank you," I said.

We fell into a long silence.

I let out an awkward laugh before looking back out into the distance. I heard Jake let out a sigh before stepping closer to me. His shoulder bumped mine.

When I looked over at him again, he turned his body back toward me.

It was nice being around him without worrying about him snapping at me again. I knew there was so much about him that I didn't know. We weren't exactly on the best of terms, and no one else would tell me anything.

"I should head inside; I said I was gonna help them-"

I was cut off by Jake leaning over to press his lips to mine.

I quickly pulled away, chuckling as I felt him trying to press his lips to mine again. He let out a low groan. It was from the back of his throat. I let my eyes open to see his still shut.

"Say it," I said simply.

His eyes finally opened when I spoke up. "What?"

"Tell me the truth," I rephrased it.

A smirk crossed his lips. No. It wasn't a smirk. It was a grin. A genuine grin.

"I want you," he confessed. "I want to kiss you. I want to be with you. Please-"

I stopped him as he leaned forward again. My hand on his chest seemed to be enough of a signal for him.

"Then, I'll see you tomorrow morning for coffee," I said before stepping away. "8. Same place we bumped into each other."

"Alright," he muttered.

"And don't get too excited," I muttered. "It's a chance, not a promise."

He nodded at me. "Understood."

I turned around and walked inside, ready to help some of the crew with what remained of the clean-up. I only paused for a moment.

I was just inside the door when I heard Jake muttering something to himself.

"Holy shit."

------------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

#sweetbitter imagine #sweetbitter fanfiction #sweetbitter x reader #jake sweetbitter imagine #jake sweetbitter fanfiction #jake sweetbitter x reader #jake imagine #jake fanfiction #jake x reader #tom sturridge imagine #tom sturridge x reader #tom sturridge fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction #x reader

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fastlikealambo · 2 years ago

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The Wolfman & The Metalhead

Werewolf!Eddie Munson x Alt Sinclair! Reader

Chapter One

Summary: Your entire existence is wrapped in Hawkins Records, the only record store in town and your place of employment. You told yourself you’d work there for a few months and then run away to LA, and join a band.

But it’s been three years and all you have to show for it is a 10% discount and a favorite customer by the name of Eddie Munson. You thought it would be another boring year but now people are going missing in Hawkins and why does a big ass dog always walk you to your car every night?

Trigger Warnings: Violence, Gore, PinV, Jason Carver,

“You like Black Sabbath, huh? Name three songs.”

“You’re bald right? Name three hats. Now will that be paper or plastic?” You asked sweetly, brushing a lavender braid out of your face while you shoved the customers' cassettes and records into a bag.

“You can’t talk to me like that? I want to speak to your manager! ”

“Not a problem sir, just wait right here.” You said only to spin right back in front of him.

“You’re looking at the manager, the stocker, the cashier, the bathroom attendant, and just about everything else. Now is there anything else I can help you with?”

He snatched the bag from your hands and stalked out of the store.

“Thank you for shopping at Hawkins Records! Come back soon!”

Hawkins Records, your domain, the one place that always feels like home, is more or less empty on a Friday night. You’d give anything to go home to your brand new shabby apartment but just because you’re out on your own, doesn’t mean you’re exempt from sisterly duties.

The sound of a skateboard and laughter interrupt your ten thousandth listen to War Pigs as your little brother and his girlfriend come running in hand in hand.

“Hey guys, how was the movie?”

“Boring, but Lucas had his eyes shut the whole time!” Max said, rolling her eyes.

“Did not!”

“Let me lock up real quick, it’s been so boring.” You said, jumping off the counter and turning off all the speakers.

“You mean lonely without Eddie?” Lucas said in a singsongy voice.

“You wanna walk home Lucas?”

“Eddie Munson from Hellfire Club? That’s who you’re dating?” Max asked

“No, he just stops by here all the time, we are not dating!” You said, instantly regretting your nice gesture of offering to drive the two home from the movies.

“You might want to tell him that.”

“Okay, everybody out before I change my mind!” You ushered the pair out of Hawkins Records, locking and closing the gate behind you, happy to be done until to see seeing the trash cans filled in front of the store.

“I gotta put these in the dumpster, start up Joan for me and nothing else!” You said and tossed your keys to the redhead before heaving the trashbags into your arms. The alley is your least favorite spot, especially at night, even more since those poor kids Chrissy and Fred went missing.

Something squelched underneath your boot and as you threw the bags into the dumpster, you heard what sounded like footsteps behind you.

“Lucas? Max? Is someone there?” You turn around to see nothing, closing the dumpster.

“ No more night shifts for me.” You thought aloud and turned around with a yelp to see what had to be the largest black dog in history in front of you, deep yellow eyes the only real source of light in the alley.

“You have got to stop sneaking up on me puppy! Here to walk me home again?” You coo at the enormous stray dog that’s been keeping you company every night for the last few months. You swear he nods as you scratch him behind the ears.

“You’re so beautiful, I can’t believe no one’s out here looking for you. I wish I could take you home buddy but my landlord would have a fit.” You explained (as if he would answer back) running your hands over his fur. He trots in front of you, leading you out of the dark and you’re relieved to see your car and the kids in one piece.

“You wanna meet my friends? They won’t hurt you.” You look down again but he’s gone, the streetlights picking up nothing but your shadow.

As you pull out of the empty parking lot, you hear howling and swear a pair of yellow eyes follows you all the way home.

“Do you mind if I put a few of these out on your door, honey?” Mrs. Mckinney asked you, weariness seeping into her voice as she clutched the missing flyers tightly. Another night, another disappearance of a high school kid.

“Of course, I’ll hand some out to customers too. I’m sure they’ll find Patrick and if I hear anything I’ll let you know right away.” You said politely. Patrick’s mom smiled weakly and headed on her way as you placed the flyers next to the cash register.

The door jingled and you didn’t have to look up to see who it was, the stupid butterflies in your stomach were already there.

“Big Sinclair! How is the coolest girl in Hawkins today?” Eddie Munson sauntered his way to the register.

“I don’t know, let me know when you find her.” You said with a smile, rolling your eyes.

“And what do you have for me today?” He asked, jumping up to sit on the counter before you could shove him off.

“A job wiping that counter down if you don’t get off. Oh, and these.” You pushed a stack of cassettes in his direction as he squealed in happiness.

“ Wait, are these signed?!”

“Yup, you can freak out now.”

“How did you get these?” Eddie asked in awe, picking up each tape like a baby bird.

“My boss got them from some press event, told me to sell them to the highest bidder but I think they’ll be in safer hands with you.”

“ I could propose to you right now. What do you say, you, me, a double wide trailer filled to the brim with kiddos with your eyes and my taste in music?”

“I’d say gimme those cassettes back before I shove you and our imaginary children into traffic.” You lightly threaten, smacking him on the shoulder but he gently grabs your arm, examining the newest tattoo.

“Erica told me about this one, said your dad screamed when he saw.”

“Are you just going to befriend my entire family Munson, is my nana joining Hellfire too?”

He laughed, running his fingers over the ink, sending a little shiver through your body.

“Come out with me tonight. My band is playing at that bar down the street and we could use a conscious audience member. I’ll buy you a watered down beer, what do you say?” Eddie asked, passing you a crumpled flyer with his band on it for you to examine.

“ Going to a shitty bar to hear a band composed of you and a bunch of high school kids complete with even shittier beer? You really know how to make a girl feel special on a first date.”

“I didn’t call it a date Sinclair, you did.” He said with a smirk.

“Fine, I’ll be your groupie for the evening. I’ll be there after I close up here, hope you can see me in your crowd of adoring fans.”

Eddie jumped off the counter, a spring in his step as he headed towards the door.

“I always see you Sinclair, see you tonight.”

It’s just one drink between acquaintances is what you keep telling yourself while the rest of your day goes by pretty fast. The last customer leaves after ten and you close up quickly, heading out the back with the trash.

You’re trying to decide if there’s enough time for you to run home and change when the streetlight cuts out and you hear something behind you.

“Is that you, puppy? I’ve got to get a bell for you or something, you scared the shit out of me.” You said and turned around to see nothing there.

“Who’s there, this isn’t fucking funny!” You yelled out.

A dark shadow blocks out the back of the alley and that’s all you need to see but dropping the garbage and running towards your car. The growling is in your ears, beyond heavy steps chasing you towards the street. You’re nearly out of the alley when you slip on something wet, landing face first on the alley ground.

Whatever’s chasing you retreats and you’re left on the alley ground, hurt with the wind knocked out of you. Whatever wet thing you slipped on dampens your clothes and you slowly get to your knees, standing at the streetlight comes flickering back on, illuminating the front of the alley where you’re standing.

You don’t know what makes you start screaming first.

The fact that the wet thing you’re covered in is blood.

Or the fact that the blood is coming from the broken and twisted body of the girl in the missing poster.

Chrissy Cunningham.

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x sinclair!reader #werewolf eddie munson #eddie munson fic

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agentofscifi · 3 years ago

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Success is the Best Kind of Revenge Ch. 3

Heels click onto the floor of my office as Chloe pushes open my doors. My hands were currently holding up the train of a dress hung on Juleka. Alix follows after Chloe, tinkering with some kind of camera in her hand. Over the years, as we all graduated from University and done pretty well for ourselves.

Juleka ended up changing her major in school after three semesters. Instead of going into performing arts for instruments, she went and got a composition degree. Juleka wrote music for a variety of artists and was one of the most sought-after songwriters. When she wasn’t doing all of that, she was modeling for my company. Juleka did a variety of photoshoots for several companies, mine included throughout her University Years. After I opened up my first few stores, we signed a formal contract. She’d been working for me for almost a decade. She split her time between Paris and Nashville in America.

Alix decides to focus on a degree in art history. She worked at an Auction House company in Paris, moving between the various countries of Europe to authenticate pieces of art and then handle their sales. She was rather successful at her work, earning many bonuses for rather extremely successful sales. Alix’s unique style and comfortable professionalism made her easily approachable to buyings. She was rather blunt, and it did her well in her job. On her off-hours, Alix did some minor modeling and promoting much of my athletic pieces. Alix’s popularity grew as she competed in several X-Games in and after university. She won several titles in skateboarding, BMX freestyling, rollerskating, and snowboarding before retiring after a slip-up when snowboarding. She shattered her kneecap, broke a leg, her collarbone, and dislocated her arm in two places. She still did BMX biking, skateboarding, rollerblading, and snowboarding, just not in a professional capacity. That being said, little kids still asked for her autographs all the time.

Chloe graduated from the London Business School with Honors and then proceeded to attend the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York to get a Graduate Degree in Global Fashion Management. She modeled some of my designs, worked connections, handled all my brand’s social media accounts, and finalized contracts. Now, she had several people working underneath her, to handle the day-to-day operations. Either way, Chloe handled all of the Brand’s business dealings and flourishes.

As for me, I attend the London College of Fashion. I got a Bachelor’s Degree in Fashion Design and Development with honors. After those years, I went to Milan to attend Istituto Marangoni International for a Master’s Degree in Luxury Accessories Design & Management. After that, I relocated back to Paris. My first boutique opened up quickly after that along with a small factory with a loan from a bank. I ended up having to open a second factory within three months due to demands. More boutiques opened up worldwide as the Brand became a household name.

“Hello Chloe, how is everything?”

“We got invitations to a reunion for Lycée. Alya sent them, as she was the class representative when we all graduated. Personally, I think she wants to get her hands on you or Juleka for an interview. You know her journalism career is in the gutter.”

Alix snorts. “And who’s fault is that?”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Her’s. The idiot ruined her blog when she was a teenager and she never changed. She still does idiotic and frankly dangerous things to get a scoop. Sure, she does some basic research now, but the girl’s been detained several times for endangering people and disrupting the peace. No University would touch her, and no place will hire her.”

Alix looks up from the camera. “So, you didn’t inform everyone in the fashion journalism world about her history, knowing it would spread to all major news and journalism networks.

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “Look, this company’s image is important. I was not going to let Miss Blogger ruin it for 15 minutes of fame. She dug her own grave.”

I sigh. “This is great and all, but are you all going?”

There’s a snort right behind me. “Not on any of our lives. We will not be sinking that low.”

“Chloe!” Juleka’s face is red and slightly scandalized.

“What? Why would we go to this reunion? To see how everyone is doing? It’s rather simple. Alya’s a tabloid writer. Nino is a barely successful DJ who works at a music store to help pay his bills. Max is an IT guy at a company. That fake research paper haunts him to this day. Kim works at a gym. The drugs screwed his athletic chances over and he never planned for anything beyond going to the Olympics. Nathaniel works at an art store and does nighttime classes. He’s unsuccessfully worked with 7 different writers for his comics after leaving Marc.

Now, Myléne and Ivan are happy, at least. Myléne works as a secretary and Ivan as a grocery store manager. Both are part-time so one of them can stay home with their kids at a time. They have millions of photos of their family on their Instagram accounts. Neither one can do much with charities. The fraud they committed was spread around the charity communities fast.

Rose, Adrien, and Sabrina are the only ones who did what they wanted to do. Rose had a few years of fame with her music before getting married and settling down as a youth music teacher. Adrien moved to America and works for a University. However, I know for a fact that he will not be returning to Paris for anything less than a funeral or a wedding. As for Sabrina, after some therapy, ended up as a Detective in Marseille.”

“Didn’t you pay for her therapy?” I tie off my last stitch and let the train fall to the platform.

Chloe purses her lips. “I owed her that much. I screwed her childhood up, majorly.”

“Did you stalk everyone to find out all of this?” Alix has a mischievous look.

Another eye roll from Chloe. “I didn’t need to. In this day and age, all you need to do is type their name into the internet and all of their social media pops up.”

I hum. “What about Lila?”

“She’s still in prison. Tried another appeal a little while ago, to no avail. Her long list of offenses and the “assisting a terrorist” change isn’t something any judge would want to touch, even with a 10 ft pole.”

Juleka simply shrugs. “Back to the point at hand. I’m not going to this reunion. Rose is the only one I wanted to keep in contact with, and she’s not going. It’s her five-year anniversary with her husband. She’s going to Spain that week.”

Alix shugs. “I’m not going either. Kim has tried to contact me so many times to help him get back into the sports world. I am not giving him another chance. Besides, there’s this huge auction going on in Russia for that week. I am not missing that for a few hours with our childhood classmates.”

I look at Chloe. She raises a perfect eyebrow. “Not a chance and you are not going either. Heavens forbid Alya posts something on that new blog of hers.”

I set my needle and thread down on a work table and gesture to Juleka to get changed. “I’m not going if none of you are. Besides, there’s this fashion show in Milan that weekend. It’s for freshly graduated designers to show off their talents to possible employers. I was planning to go to find some who would specialize in Fashion Contour. I’ve been doing quite a bit of work in that field and want to get a fresh pair of eyes that will eventually take over that area of our brand. I was also hoping to look for someone to start a Make-up department. One of your people mentioned the idea at a meeting.”

Chloe nods and starts to type into her phone. “I’ll tell my assistant to look through the applications we have to see if anyone fulfills the requirements for that job. Just find that new department head.”

I give Chloe a nod as Juleka hands me the dress from before. A custom-made wedding dress for a woman who happened to be Juleka’s exact size. One of the many I had made of the years since I’d started my fashion business.

Some part of me wanted to thank Lila. If I was honest with myself, I wouldn’t be where I was if she hadn’t arrived at my class and taken everyone’s loyalty. They weren’t bad people, but thanks to Ms. Bustier, they were a drain on my energy and abilities. Now, however, I was one of the most well-known and successful fashion designers with over two dozen people for me in Design. I could not be happier.

Ch. 1 ~~~~~ Ch. 2

#alya salt #lila salt #miraculous ladybug #marinette deserves better #bustier salt #lila is exposed #success is the best kind of revenge #ml salt

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shinescape · 4 years ago

Text

Hawk Eyes

Bodyguard Seonghwa x Reader

Requested!

note: i might have went overboard with this one (jk). Thank you for the request anon and enjoy the read!

At this point, you thought that the stares and murmurs would die down but apparently not so. The other students really made it obvious that they were whispering about you or more like the person following behind you.

It was ridiculous but your father being the protective person he was assigned you a personal bodyguard. You honestly didn’t want it but the Park Family has a history of working with your family and Seonghwa was no exception.

He took his job quite seriously since he was trained at a very young age. Both of you went to the same school and even then he would make sure that no one bullied or pulled pranks on you.

One time you walked into the classroom and a bucket of flour poured onto you had him furious. He was still in training back then but somehow he already ingrained in his head that he needed to protect you at all cost.

You were currently walking in the busy hallways to your morning class. The crowd always made you feel anxious and uncomfortable but knowing that Seonghwa was right behind put you at ease.

A group of boys were goofing around as they approached you and one of them accidently pushed you to the lockers with his body.

Instead of hitting the lockers, the side of your head was cushioned by a palm. Thanks to Seonghwa’s fast reflexes and close proximity, your head was saved but the group of boys wasn’t.

Seonghwa stood in front of the group and glared at them, he knew they were trying to act like nothing happened when the guy who pushed you knew exactly what he did was on purpose. He was taller and looked way too intimidating for them to leave without at least a bruise.

But you stepped in and said, “He’s in a bad mood. It’s best that you leave or he’ll slam your head next.” You smiled at them and that was enough to make them turn back from where they came from and ran away.

“You should have made them apologise.”

“Nah, it’s not like I’m going to see them again anyway.”

You still find it bothersome how your father made Seonghwa follow you to college every single day, like a shadow. Before, he would wear those black formal suits and would sit in every class you had which was seriously uncomfortable.

People were wondering if your family was dealing with some kind of underground business and thus making you friendless up till now.

After having to negotiate with your father almost ten times, he agreed that Seonghwa was to only wait outside of every class and wear normal clothes like any young adult his age.

Your assigned bodyguard was surprised when he knew about the new arrangement and you can’t believe he reacted as if you’ve abandoned him when it’s not. It took him some time to get used to it and would accidentally follow you inside the lecture hall like he was now.

You turned on your heels and lightly pushed him out of the door. “Hwa, please go and eat breakfast or waste time at the mall while I finish. It’s four hours of class.” You said tiredly, this was not the first time and he would answer the same thing again and again.

“I’ll wait out here. Text me if you need anything.” He gave you a professional smile that you wished he would not since it felt so weird when you know each other for so long. But being in this line of job, he had to do it and he insisted on it.

You grumbled knowing that he’ll stand right outside and do nothing but glare at anyone that passed by. He wasn’t paranoid, more like protective after how many incidents you got involved back in school.

Four hours passed by and everyone including you were sluggish as hell. Your back aching, arms sore and tired from all the note taking you did.

The moment you stepped outside, Seonghwa was there looking exactly how he did earlier. A smile on his face as he stepped near you. “Ready to go home?” He asked, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on.

“Don’t you get tired waiting out here?”

He shook his head and before he could reply, you answered for him. “You were trained for this, I get it. Let’s go grab lunch, I’m hungry.” Seonghwa nodded and followed behind you like he always does.

“Seonghwa, you can walk beside me, there’s no one besides us.” You slightly turned around and grabbed his wrist and forced him to walk beside you.

He nibbled on his lower lip as he tried to remain his composure, eyes once in a while went down to his wrist that had your fingers wrapped around it. This is fine. I’m not crossing any lines, he reminded in his head.

Seonghwa was busy checking his schedule, your schedule to be exact when he heard the heavy doors across from him being pushed open. Your classmates swarmed out and he scanned everyone in search of your figure. His brows furrowed when he didn’t see you coming out.

He made his way through the crowd and went inside the hall, where you were seen talking with someone at the front row seats. He let out an exasperated sigh and made his way towards you. His sharp eyes watched how you and this person he doesn’t know talking so casually, unaware that everyone had left the room.

Seonghwa made sure his presence was known as he stood close to your side, the guy you were with immediately noticed him. He tapped your arm and motioned for you to look behind. There stood your bodyguard with a straight face on, glaring right at the stranger.

“Oh you’re here. I have a project to discuss with him so we'll probably head to the library then have dinner if we get to finish things early. You can go back first.” You know so well he’s not going to leave you with this person until late at night. But it was worth the try.

Seonghwa on the other hand felt irritated the moment you mentioned the guy’s name and how you had a plan up till dinner. It was unscheduled and he didn’t like one bit about it.

“I’ll inform your father what you told me. Also, I’m staying with you until you finish.” He said and for the first time ever, he left you first to wait outside. That caught you off guard but you tried not to think about it too much.

Your bodyguard who was seated a table away watched every single action of yours and your project partner. He noticed how you would cover your mouth when you laugh at a joke the male made or how you keep on adjusting your outfit when talking.

You almost never behaved that way around him and suddenly showing this side to someone that’s not him, irked him. He then realised how he hated what he was seeing and felt something he never felt before.

He felt possessive of you. After spending time together for so long and being the only friend and shoulder to lean on, he had developed a new feeling towards you. It was probably not new at all, just hidden deep down in his heart finally bursting out due to this new stranger.

His fingers curled into fists when your partner casually patted your head after you managed to complete a question. He’s being way too touchy and why do I feel like interrupting them and causing a ruckus? Seonghwa quietly shook the thought away and continued on watching the both of you.

The ride back home was awfully quieter than usual and it made you uneasy. You stole glances at Seonghwa who drove in silence and never uttered a single word at you.

When the both of you arrived back home, he usually bothered himself to open the front doors for you but instead shut the door right in your face.

Something was totally not right and you hate to admit but an upset Seonghwa was a hard one to deal with. “He’s probably tired. We have been out since morning.” You tried to assure yourself and went inside and spotted him on the second floor.

You ran up the stairs, catching up with his retreating figure that did not turn once at all to look at you. He clearly heard the door opening and you running up the stairs but he ignored it.

“Is everything okay, Hwa?” You manage to grab his wrist and try to peer at his face when he jerks his hand away harshly from you.

“No, I’m upset. Go to your room, it’s late.” He curtly said and left you in the hallway alone.

Inside the room, Seonghwa threw himself on the bed and covered his face with the back of his hand. He wanted to beat himself so bad for being so harsh to you. I should have said everything was fine like always, not making things worse like this. He grumbled to himself as more thoughts flooded his head.

He never felt this troubled before but when he finally came to sense that he wanted you all to himself, everything jumbled up. Before, it felt like nothing more than protecting his employer’s child but not anymore.

After a while, you were done with your night routine and was already in bed but your mind was still awake. Thinking of Seonghwa and what he said earlier. “No, I’m upset.”

You kicked the covers away and made a bee-line to your bodyguard’s room as quiet as possible. Making sure no one was near the staircase, you ran towards the other side of the hallway towards his bedroom.

You knocked a couple of times and even twisted the knob but it was locked. Praying hard that you won’t wake anyone up, you knocked even harder and finally heard a sound coming from inside.

Seonghwa unlocked the door and thought it was one of the maids and got annoyed. “What is it?” He voiced with a frown until he saw you standing in front of him, staring and mouth slightly agape.

The both of you then heard voices coming from the corner and without thinking he pulled you inside and trapped you behind the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to-” You words were cut off when another set of knocks came and he knew who it was.

“Young man, do you have anything to wash?”

“No, I don’t. Goodnight.” Seonghwa was about to shut the door when the lady stopped with her hand. “You sure, I changed the sheets two weeks ago. Also why are you not letting me in?” She pushed the door harder and it made you yelp and hit him from the impact.

“What was that?” She asked. “It’s just my stomach. I’m not feeling well.” His other hand wrapped around the back of your head making sure you don’t move again. The action made you still as you took in the fact that he was really close to you.

Seonghwa finally closed the door and let out a sigh. He then tipped your chin up to make you look him in the eyes. “Why are you not wearing a shirt?” Was the first thing that came out of your mouth.

“Uh, it’s my room?” He answered back.

“But, you’re living in my house.” You raised a brow at him.

“Should I make it my house too then?” He taunted back.

“What?!”

You couldn’t help but shout in surprise at the words he just said. You thought he was joking but when he stepped back and went to sit at the edge of his bed, messing up his hair. You knew this was more than that.

“I like you...no I love you. I don’t even know myself.” He stopped for a moment. “But what I know is that I hate seeing you getting shy with that project partner of yours.” He expressed which sound more like he was murmuring to himself rather than to you.

You furrowed your brows and can’t help but like the fact that he was bothered by something like that. Seeing him all frustrated with nothing but a pair of sweatpants was sure a sight.

But shortly after, it made you question yourself as well. You walked closer and stood directly in front of him and he looked up at the mention of his name.

Your palms found their way to his bare shoulders, resting there as you closed your eyes and went down to kiss him. Seonghwa was caught off guard by your sudden move and took your face in his hand, ripping it away from him.

“We shouldn’t do this.” He sounded genuinely worried.

“I just wanted to confirm my feelings. I’m sorry for suddenly kissing you like that.” You were about to move away when he pulled you back to your initial spot. He made you sit on his lap, legs wrapped around him.

You were confused by his sudden actions when just a minute ago he had pushed you away, reminding you that it wasn’t right to do what you both did.

“Did you feel anything after stealing a kiss from me?” His tone low as his alluring eyes met yours. You gulped at the sudden change in demeanor.

Not knowing what to say or react, you let him have his way with you. His fingers tapped its way on your neck before holding your jaw in place. He liked how it fits nicely in his hands as he pulled your face closer to his.

“You should answer when I ask.”

You didn’t know what took over you as you slowly thread your fingers in his hair and crushed your lips with his. He let out a moan and deepened the kiss, hands now gripping the side of your frame. You were starting to get out of breath, never would have imagined kissing him like this would be so addicting.

You peck his lips once more before pulling away, eyes half lidded as you look at him. His face flushed and the way he was breathing through his lips wasn’t helping at all.

“That answers everything, don’t you think?” You breathed out, hands resting on his broad shoulders again.

Seonghwa then unwrapped your legs around him, pushing you down on the bed before doing the same. He gazed at your features as a finger swiped the bottom of your lips.

“You better tell that guy to not get too touchy or I can’t guarantee his life.”

His pupils were round and innocent now despite looking like it could suck you in whole earlier. You scoffed at his words and played with his fringe that was covering his eyes. “Forget about him. What are we going to do next?” you asked, eyes roaming his beautiful face.

Seonghwa smirked and that's when you know he interpreted your words differently. “I’m going to do whatever I want and make sure you can’t attend class tomorrow.” You sighed at him and lightly punched his chest.

“I meant about my father, your job as my bodyguard. I don’t think he’s going to take this nicely.” You informed him, already knowing the fate of your relationship after this.

“I’ll take care of that. What you need to worry about is what’s going to happen right now.” Seonghwa's eyes were clearly filled with lust as his hand went under your shirt and watched how you tried to hold back from his cold touch.

You were starting to feel ways you could never imagine and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. It will be a long night and surely there’s no turning back on this.

A sneaking attempt, an unexpected confession and a stolen kiss had led you to this.

Nothing else matters as for now, just you and your life time bodyguard, Park Seonghwa.

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madametamma · 3 years ago

Text

Selene and Valerie

Valerie Grey tiredly trudged her way down the steps into her employer’s lab. She had just finished capturing three ghosts that evening. It was a pretty good haul, but she was dead tired.

She went to the disposal unit. and inserted her red and silver thermos into the slot. With a press of a button, the three menaces were sucked away into a shoot. The creatures let out ghastly, muffled hollers as the metal tube carried them away to Vlad’s ghost portal in another room, sending them back to the ghost zone.

Valerie had never seen exactly where the ghosts ended up when she deposed of them like this. It was some ghost portal in another lab, probably filled with technology made to protect the city of Amity park. She had never been invited to tour it, nor did she ask.

Unlike other ghost hunters, she wasn’t the most science-minded. She knew her own weapons inside and out, but as far as HOW they were invented, that was a matter that never really concerned her. She received them, she used them. Beyond that, who cares? Results were most important to her.

Speaking of results, she had history homework waiting for her at home and after just barely passing the big exam last Thursday, her dad would be pissed if she didn’t do more to bring her grade up.

She cracked her stiff neck. “Better get it done before my shift at the Nasty burger tomorrow morning. Ugh. What a Saturday.”

Suddenly she heard a swift wrap of knuckles tapping incessantly on glass.

“Mortal! Hey! Hey, mortal! Moooor~ taaaal!”

Valerie raised a confused eyebrow as she turned to see who that could possibly be. She grimaced, slightly surprised at the sight of a ghostly lady locked away in a glass containment unit. Her fanged smile lit up in a dumb grin upon seeing she had finally captured Valerie’s attention.

“Hi! Hey! Hi, Mortal!”

Valerie shifted her eyes around lab in confusion, not sure what the hell was she looking at. Some sort of pale, flowing, robed weirdo stared at her, uncomfortably bug eyed and overzealous. Whoever this ghost was Valerie was already deeply annoyed by it’s presence.

“Mortal, can you please release me? I need to get out. There’s this little button! You see it? The yellow one just over there. Can you just do me this favor and press it, it’ll unlock the door. Pretty please?!”

“Shut up.” Valerie barked in irritation. She had no idea why this ghost was kept in it’s own unit and not destroyed or sent back where it came from. She also had no idea how Vlad or anyone else could stand listening to her high pitch squeaks for more than 10 seconds. That’s what was so baffling to the ghost hunter. It wasn’t like Vlad to just keep a ghost around for no reason.

“Oh, but you see, mortal-”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Uh, okay.” Selene thought for a second for another word, “M’lady, m’dude, m’guy, friend-o, compadre, mama-”

“WHAT?!”

“I’m being kept prisoner by a power hungry old jerk, who can’t even be bothered to say good night after a torture session! He’s keeping me from completing my mission! You have to let me out! There are DESTINIES that gotta get fulfilled, and you’re my only hope!”

For a moment, Valerie only glared at the ghostly lady like she was completely out of her mind before deciding that this wasn't worth her time and turning to leave.

Selene began to panic as she saw her one chance at escaping walk away. She would have to find some way to convince her.

“No! Please!? Please, look!”

The ghost summoned to her hand the crown of fire.

Valerie paused when she noticed the room light up green and turned, eyes suddenly going wide at the sight before her.

“That’s...” memories came flooding back to the ghost hunter. Her town under siege, almost getting killed, needing to drag the unconscious bodies of Vlad and Danny back to safety. She hoped she’d never see this thing again.

Selene was grateful. It seemed that this got the young mortal’s attention once more.

“I’ve been keeping it safe all this time.” The ancient being explained.

“The man who keeps me here wants this power for himself but it’s not FOR him. My world needs its king. There are many who would disagree, but I know from the bottom of my core that our home is out of balance and only with this can it be fixed. I beg of you. Will you help me deliver it? The ghost king can not attain his true power without it...”

Selene gazed back at the human girl with wide hopeful eyes, surely hearing her sincere plight would move her to help.

Wordlessly Valerie moved to unlock the door to the containment unit. She pressed the button and Selene was free.

The ghostly woman looked to the ghost hunter with eyes filled with gratitude.

“Thank-” BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Valerie unleashed a barrage of ecto-blasts from her gun. She never let up her assault until there was nothing left of Selene but a puddle of ectoplasm and what looked like a tiny gem on the floor.

When the ghost hunter was finished she glared down at the pulpy remains of the ghost by her feet.

“No ghost will EVER be king ever again.” she muttered coldly before storming out the door, not looking back for a moment.

----------------------------

As soon as the ghost hunter slammed the door behind her, leaving the lab in quiet darkness, did the tiny, almost unnoticeable gem on the floor began to glow. The stains of ectoplasm on the floor began to slither forward, enveloping the glowing piece, it morphed and changed until Selene floated there, looking no worse for ware.

“What a helpful girl!” Selene mused contentedly to herself as she went to the disposal shoot, slithering her way back to the ghost zone.

#Danny Phantom #Selene #ghost oc #Valerie grey #fanfiction #Ghost king #crown of fire

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esamastation · 4 years ago

Text

Somehow it leaks into the press that Cloud Strife is the bastard son of Late President ShinRa. Unrelated, the news is Vincent Valentine being the biological father of General Sephiroth also makes it into the news.

It begins with a news article.

It's nothing too shocking, at first. Old ShinRa scandals are gil-a-dozen now, with investigative reporters digging them up on particularly boring news cycles to shock and horrify the masses with all the terrible things that had been going on right under their noses. This week it's detail on all the cloning business, all about Jenova, the SOLDIER project, mako. That week it's about the countless people died in various human trials, be they medicine, materia or weapons. That week it's the waste of resources, how much money was wasted on useless, ridiculous projects for no other reason than because ShinRa had the money to spend.

There's always something new and thrilling to be dug up in the grave of ShinRa to entertain the masses and so it's become kind of mundane. You can only shock and awe people with the crimes of a select group of people so many times in a row before it becomes, more or less… mundane. And this article had seemed more of the same.

Affairs, Bastards and Coverups – the numerous scandals of the ShinRa Elite!

Cloud scanned the first lines of the article and then dismissed it. Some reporter has compiled months worth of data and stolen documents concerning the personal lives of the Shinra family the various heads of department – and it turned out that they were living it up in the lap of luxury, cheating on their spouses, having secret love children, covering them up with money and non-disclosure forms, oh my. It's nothing new – everyone knew the President had mistresses and bastards in every ShinRa town, and it's not surprising the others followed suit.

At least it wasn't yet another secret ShinRa super weapon about to kill them all, Cloud thinks, moves to throw the whole paper aside, when sub header further down the article catches his eye. At first he doesn't quite understand it – he sees his name in the papers plenty, and maybe it's a mistake, maybe it's something unrelated – maybe he misread… but no.

Cloud Strife – or is it Cloud Shinra?

Then, then he stops to read it the article in full – and what do you know, it does have some surprises after all. And not, it turns out, just for him.

Vincent announces his arrival by grinding gravel under his metal heel – and by pressing a cool beer can against Cloud's shoulder in silent offering.

Ah, Cloud thinks, and accepts it. "You knew?"

"Suspected it," Vincent agrees and sits beside him on the cliff, overlooking Edge and the Ruins of Midgar. He's holding the paper in hand. "There's a family resemblance."

Cloud hums and opens the can, reaching the paper. It's open on the Article, of course it is – Vincent has even highlighted sections of it. "Family resemblance," Cloud repeats, running a thumb over the underlines – pressed in hard with a ballpoint pen. "I don't know – definitely didn't inherit the old bastard's chin."

Vincent hums. "You and Rufus. There was also another Shinra bastard in company employment with files left – Lazard Deusericus. You all have very similar features."

Cloud frowns a little at that, trying to remember – but if he ever met Lazard, it's not coming to him. Zack might've known the guy, but… most of those memories were faded now. "Well," he says and turns the page to the second section of the article – dedicated entirely to the family drama of Professor Hojo, and the Child Stolen – Sephiroth.

How the reporter had found out so much about Vincent, Cloud has no idea, but they had his whole career as a Turk down – right down to his disappearance under mysterious circumstances in Nibelheim, and his resurface as one of the Heroes who Saved the Planet, decades later.

Of course, Cloud's crew has been in the public eye long enough that none of their lives are secret anymore – everything that could be found out about them had been by this point, and that included the mystery of Vincent Valentine, as well as Nanaki's history and Yuffie's royal heritage. So maybe it's not that big of a surprise, that people figured out the rest of it.

They hadn't done enough try to hide their histories, Cloud muses. They hadn't realised that it might be something they should do – not until it was too late.

"You don't seem surprised either," Vincent points out, glancing at the paper, and the picture of young Sephiroth on it.

"You ever see Sephiroth standing beside Hojo? Definitely no family resemblance there," Cloud muses, giving him a look. "Sephiroth was always too pretty to be Hojo's kid."

Vincent looks away, blowing out a slow breath into his scarf. Cloud takes a drink of the beer and then reads the pertinent lines again.

Really, what's most surprising about the whole damned thing is how surprising it still manages to be. None of this really matters anymore. ShinRa family is all but gone, Rufus is pretty much powerless, Sephiroth is trice-over-dead, even Hojo is properly back in his grave, and none of this actually affects anything anymore. They all had some suspicion, before, they all had some theories, so it's not a shock. Except that it is and it does affect things.

"The things we could've done," Cloud mutters wryly, shaking his head. "If only we'd known."

"Hmph," Vincent answers and relaxes a little. "It likely wouldn't have changed things. Not unless we had known… years before."

"Yeah, and even then I doubt ShinRa would've much cared, considering how those assholes went about dealing with their bastards," Cloud says and drops the paper in between them. "I probably would've gotten shot – and you did get shot."

"I did get shot," Vincent agrees. "I suppose it makes more sense now. Why he didn't… really, kill me."

Cloud grimaces at that and takes another drink. Yeah – Hojo could get rid of obstacles without qualms and not think about it twice, but what he did to Vincent, oh, that was personal wasn't it? It was probably revenge – and not just for loving the woman Hojo had wanted, but being the father of the son Hojo had coveted. And how like Hojo, to have a loose end of that magnitude, and then just… drop it, when it stopped entertaining him.

Maybe it'd been the same with Cloud – and Zack. They got their taste of Hojo's personal interest for daring to kill Sephiroth, and then Hojo dropped them too and moved onto whatever else interested him. It's been years now, and Cloud dares to think he's mostly over it, but thinking about it now… Had Hojo known about his relation to the Shinra family – had he cared? Had it made the whole thing that much more fun for the asshole, did he get some sadistic delight in tearing into his boss' progeny?

"Yeah," Cloud muses and lets out a quiet, smothered belch. "I don't know about you, but I really could've done without this knowledge."

Vincent hums in answer. "Truth is neither good or bad. It simply is," he says. "It is always better to know, than to wallow in ignorance."

Cloud makes a face and glances at him. "Speaking of wallowing, how personally are you taking this?" he asks then, looking him up and down. Vincent has the tendency of drowning in guilt and blaming himself, and this, as little as it changes things, as much as it morbidly just amuses Cloud…

Finding you're the bastard son of a dead rich guy is one thing – finding out you had a son and were part of killing said son, several times now, that's something else.

Vincent looks down and says nothing for a long, windswept moment. "Very," he says finally and shakes his head. "How else can I take it?"

"You must've suspected," Cloud says and then grimaces – shouldn't have said that.

"Well," Vincent answers, his voice dipping lower, almost inaudible. "I must have."

Cloud sighs and then reaches one hand over, rubbing it up and down along Vincent’s tense back, fingers snagging on belts through the ragged cape. "I'm sorry, Vincent," he says. "Really, sincerely sorry."

Vincent says nothing, but he doesn't move away from the touch, which for him is the same as leaning into someone's shoulder and wailing out in grief. Cloud lowers the can he's holding and then releases a sigh. The whole thing blows, really, and it changes nothing – just another scandal for people to be entertained by. Another horror to add into their ever growing collection.

But it's something to imagine it – if Vincent had known, if he could've done something about it. Half of the whole mess was the hellish upbringing Sephiroth got in Hojo's hands – if something had interrupted that, if someone, anyone, would've interfered, then maybe, just maybe... Cloud's relation probably wouldn't have mattered much, he was just one ShinRa bastard among many, but if Sephiroth got an actual loving upbringing… who knows.

Maybe the guy wouldn’t have gone megalomaniacal world ending monster on all of them. Who knows.

tentatively dipping my toes in the waters of ff7... it’s been a while, i don’t even know if i know how to write these guys anymore

#fanfiction #ff7 #cloud strife #vincent valentine

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jadethest0ne · 3 years ago

Text

In need of Refueling, Chapter 19 - Job Interview

Summary: “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 980

Ratings/Warnings: Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse

Notes: I’m slowly going around the LMK cast. Time for a Pigsy POV chapter!

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!

Read on AO3

———-

Pigsy had demanded a job interview and that's what he was going to do. He stands, arms crossed at the counter of his shop while he stares down the fire demon sitting across from him. He made sure to be clear that the job was not a guarantee. In fact, Pigsy is not very sold on the idea to begin with. Just because he had agreed to give Red Son a chance, doesn’t mean that he would automatically let Red Son succeed. So after giving Red Son a form to fill out, he sets it aside, not looking at it and keeping his eyes trained on the demon in front of him, and begins the interview.

“What are your past experiences in the culinary industry?” Pigsy asks his new interviewee sternly.

Red Son squirms slightly at Pigsy’s dark stare, which brings a bit of pleasure to the chef.

However, despite his obvious discomfort, Red Son answers promptly and confidently, “I have hundreds of years of history of cooking for myself, and recently was developing my own noodle cart stand to sell the spiciest noodles in all the realms. Furthermore, I have a lot of baking experience, which my references (one of which being your friend) can vouch for.”

“Reasons for leaving your former employment?”

“Differences in opinion with the one in charge,” Red Son says smoothly.

“Might you say, you were fired?” Pigsy allows himself a smirk at his own joke.

Red Son gives him a flat stare, but makes no response.

Getting no reaction, Pigsy makes a gruff cough and continues. “This is a high pressure job and I expect things to be done quickly without a drop in quality. How are you under pressure, and how would you describe the quality of your work?”

Again Red Son answers professionally. “I like to believe that, like a diamond, the quality and brilliance of my work shines under pressure. I have a history of working in adverse conditions and am always very prompt and diligent. You won’t find a more skillful or hard-working employee than I.”

“Give me three words to describe yourself.”

“Genius. Goal-oriented. Persistent.”

Pigsy had to give Red Son one thing - he was good at bragging about himself. But he turns his expression to something more serious at his next question. “Why do you want this job?”

Red Son continues on, as if by rote, “Because I believe that I would be an excellent asset to your restaurant, being able to fill any position–”

Pigsy quickly cuts him off with a raised hand. “No. Why do you want this job? What are you looking for here, and why should I hire you, of all people, after what you've done?” He’s dropped the interview act altogether, looking harshly at the demon in front of him, not bothering to mask his spiteful glare.

Red Son blinks at the question, realizing the shift in tone, and what Pigsy is actually asking. His posture shifts slightly, gaze moving past the chef.

Pigsy waits for his response.

“I…” Red Son begins, hesitating in his response for the first time. “I understand that Sandy put you up to this, and that it’s because of him that you’re even bothering with this interview. I suppose that I, in part, also don’t want his efforts to go to waste.” He pauses, mulling over his next words carefully. "I also suppose that I just want something to do… I could, of course, go elsewhere for work, but…” This time he looks at the chef with an open expression. “I want to be of use to you here... And, and maybe make up for any trouble that I have caused.” After a short pause, his tone shifts back to one of practiced professionalism. “If you feel the need to take the cost of damages in the form of reparation out of my initial paychecks, you of course may do so.”

Pigsy blinks, surprised at the apparent honesty from the demon. Sandy always did have a knack for getting people to open up. He was expecting some fire, and at least some form of anger from Red Son. He certainly still maintained his pompous nature. But he wasn’t expecting… this.

He looks over the fire demon for a moment. After contemplating Red Son’s response, he realizes something. “You're really trying, aren't you?"

"Trying what?" Red Son squints his eyes suspiciously.

"To be good," Pigsy says simply, with a half shrug.

The demon sputters and has an almost insulted look on his face. "'Good?!?!?!' I'll never be good! What kind of demon do you think I am?!?"

Pigsy gives him an unimpressed blink.

Red Son huffs out an exasperated breath of air. "But maybe…" he says, looking away sheepishly and rubbing the back of his head. "I'm trying to be…" He waves his hands in the air as if looking for a word that's hard to find. "...nice?" Red Son finishes, saying the last word as if it is foreign on his tongue. Then the boy tilts his head to the floor looking up at Pigsy from below his eyebrows, as if he's nervous to see the cook's expression.

Pigsy levels his gaze at the fire demon, eyes traveling over his slightly hunched form, trying to spot a trick, trying to spot the lie. After a long time Pigsy lets out a grunt.

"All right," he says.

"Whubuh?" Red Son says brilliantly.

"You can work here."

"Wh- Really!" Red Son's surprise gives away his eagerness.

"Don't make me repeat myself. Take this apron and let's get started," the pig says, holding out the garment.

"O-okay!" Red Son fumbles over the counter and grabs the apron, a poorly hidden smile pulling at his lips.

Pigsy inwardly rolls his eyes as he begins to bark orders, knowing full well that he was adding yet another crazy to his already insane life.

start || <– previous // next –>

#lmk #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #pigsy #red son #in need of refueling #my fanfiction #my writing #jadethest0ne

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iamdeku · 4 years ago

Text

Strictly Business: ProHero!Deku x Reader

Pro hero!Izuku meeting his new personal assistant who is nervous and had previous terrible experiences with Proheros who treated her like a tool. (Reader is female)

This was a really fun request to do! I loved the idea for this and definitely got a little carried away with the word count, haha. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault. Bad bosses. I did not proofread.

You had been nervous when you had started working for the #1 hero. You had worked hard to get here, but it had been a long road, and it hadn’t always been fun. In fact, up until now it had been terrible. When you walked into Deku’s office, you were seriously thinking about undoing years of work and changing your career path entirely.

Your dream had been to work with heroes. Not be harassed by them.

You first job had also been your first mistake. You should have known better than to work with the Fresh-Picked hero, Grape Juice, but you were new to the industry and no one had warned you off. So you became a personal assistant to your sleaziest boss to date.

Mineta had done his best to ruin your life. He sexually harassed you at ever turn, abused his power, kept you after hours and made you do ridiculous things. When you finally gathered the courage to quit, you never looked back.

When you were looking for your next job, you decided it was better to go with an established hero, one who had been in the game a long time. Endeavor, as the former #1 hero, seemed like a solid, safe choice. You were so wrong.

You worked for Endeavor for years, unwilling to quit the paycheck, but the experience was awful. Endeavor was arrogant, with a terrible temper and a hefty helping of sexism. By the time you were in a financially stable enough place to quit that job, you had lost all faith in the heroes around you.

So now, starting your first day working for Deku, you were prepared for the worst. You were sure you were about to be introduced to some fresh torture, but you were ready for whatever he would level at you. Heroes could sink no lower in your eyes.

So naturally, you were surprised on your first day when he seemed…nice. Sweet even.

You knocked on his office door, a combination of dread and resignation swirling in your stomach. You expected a wait, but he answered it almost immediately.

“Hi! You’re my new personal assistant, right? It’s so nice to meet you. I’m sorry I wasn’t at your interview. I meant to be there but there was a crisis downtown I got called in for. I hope you got the gift basket I sent to your house to apologize. I really am so sorry, it’s terrible policy not to have met you before now.”

You had gotten that gift basket, actually, but you hadn’t thought he was aware of it. You definitely hadn’t thought it was his idea, but from the sounds of his speech it definitely had been. You blinked at him a couple of times, trying to gather your wits after that rapid speech.

“Yes,” you said. “I’m your new personal assistant. It’s very nice to meet you. What can I do for you today sir?”

He seemed confused, as though he hadn’t expected a personal assistant to be ready to work. That couldn’t be right though. He was an experienced pro.

“Didn’t they tell you when you got here? I thought we could start with lunch together, so I can get to know you since I missed your interview. I’m sorry, I should have sent you an email.”

Your heart sank at his words, all of your hopes for his kindness to be genuine crashing with it. So, it was to be the hopelessly flirtatious boss who thought you existed to fulfill his fantasies again. You had seen that before.

“I’m really not sure that would be wise, sir. I like to maintain a strict level of professionalism,” you said, making your refusal as polite as you could.

He blinked, as though it hadn’t even occurred to him that might not be professional.

“Oh. I suppose you have a point. Well, why don’t we eat here while we work then? I can ask you a few of the questions I didn’t get to for your interview while you settle in.”

You sighed internally. There was really no way you could politely turn that down, so you forced your face into a smile.

“That sounds like it could work well.”

You were pleasantly surprised when your lunch actually went well. Deku never made a move on you, other than his request for you to call him Izuku, which seemed to apply to all the employees. It could have just been a ploy to get you to let your guard down, but all the same, you wanted to believe he really was this kind.

You two worked together in his office the whole day, and you became familiar with his schedule. He never did anything to make you uncomfortable, and as the day wore on you decided cautious optimism was the way to go. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You smiled fondly at the memory, chopping carrots on the counter. Across the room from you, the man you had come to know well was pacing, mumbling frantically as he analyzed some old battle playing on his TV.

“Izuku, you’re going to throw off my cooking with all that racket, and then we’ll have nothing to eat.” You laughed lightly.

He nearly jumped 10 feet in the air. “Sorry, sorry! I guess I just got a little lost in thought. Although I guess I wasn’t the only one lost. I asked you about my schedule earlier and you didn’t seem to hear me at all.”

You blushed in shame. “Sorry.”

Izuku shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Happens to me all the time. Obviously. What were you thinking about?”

“I was just remembering my first day working for you and how terrified I was.”

It seemed silly to you now, but back then you never could have predicted you would be best friends with your boss, let alone cooking dinner for him while working unofficial overtime as a passion project. You never thought that working for Izuku would be what you always wanted.

“Why were you terrified? Just because I’m #1? You’d worked with famous heroes before. I’m no one special.”

Oh, how wrong he was.

“You are special. You were the first hero I’d worked with who didn’t make me miserable. Every boss I had before you either sexually harassed me, overworked me or was just plain unpleasant. Usually all of those. I had given up on heroes before I met you,” you confessed casually.

Izuku blanched at you.

“What?” The word was breathless, barely audible.

“Yeah. I thought you knew my work history. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but anyone with any experience working with heroes will tell you Endeavor is not a super cuddly guy.”

“I…had no idea.” You looked up and found, to your surprise, that Izuku’s eyes were swimming with tears. “I never knew you were treated like that. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s okay. I have you now.” You froze at your misstep.

He would probably never notice it, but you had. It really hadn’t been your intention to fall in love with your boss, but he had been so sweet and kind to you that it had happened naturally. The way his eyes lit up when he smiled, the energy he had for the things he loved, his strength and dedication had all lead you here.

“I’m not going to let anything like that happen to you again. Or anyone. I’ll make sure your past employers get investigated.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

There was silence in Izuku’s house as you stared down at the carrot you had been cutting. In an effort to lighten the mood, you tried to make another joke.

“You know, that first day when you invited me to lunch, I thought you were hitting on me.” You laughed a little bit at the absurdity of it. “I know now that you would never do that, obviously.”

You heard the crash when Izuku dropped the mug of tea he had been holding. Before you could move, he was scrambling to pick it up, cheeks bright red and flaming.

“I-Oh, this is terribly awkward.” Izuku mumbled, no doubt thinking you couldn’t hear him.

“Wait. Were you flirting with me?” You asked, breathless.

“No! I mean…not…not then,” he stammered.

“Are you-” You stopped, taking a moment to gather your courage as Izuku stood, effectively giving up on the shards of pottery at his feet. “Are you flirting with me now?”

He stiffened, looking deeply uncomfortable as he met your gaze.

“Yes. I mean, not intentionally! It’s just that I have feelings with you, but I would never act on them. I would never want to make you uncomfortable and if you feel like you need to resign now because of that, I understand. I would be happy to recommend you to any of the other pro-heroes I know, and I can assure you they would make excellent bosses.”

You crossed the room to stand in front of him, taking one of his awkwardly flailing hands in your own.

“I think I am going to have to resign, unfortunately.” You watched his face fall before quickly correcting yourself. “It seems like it would be inappropriate to date my boss. I have feelings for you too, Izuku.”

Rising up on your tiptoes, you dared to kiss his cheek, hot from his blush and scattered with freckles.

“You do?”

The question is quiet, but you hear it clearly with his breath in your ear, faces still close from where you haven’t dared to move. You pull back now, surveying his awestruck face.

“Yes. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I guess it was sort of inevitable that I would fall for you.”

You smiled, biting your lip and staring down at your feet. Izuku’s warm, calloused hand reached up to your cheek, pulling your gaze up to his.

“So does this mean you want to be with me?”

The words seemed too good to be true, striking somewhere deep in your chest and knocking you breathless. Yes. Please, yes, let it be true.

“I would like that very much. If you would, I mean.”

Izuku nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! That was never my intention with this, but after getting to know you, I really do like you. I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but I think you’re beautiful and clever and funny and I would love to take you out on a date, if that’s something you would want.”

You smiled, leaning gently into the palm of his hand that cupped your face, bringing your own hand up to twine your fingers together.

“I think that sounds perfect.”

Izuku laughed softly, and you could hear the emotion in the sound.

“You know, I was so lonely before you. I was really just hoping for a friend when I hired you. I thought maybe we would get along okay and I could have someone to keep me company. I was crushed when you said you liked to keep it professional, but I vowed to myself I would honor your wishes.”

“Yeah. We both did a great job of keeping it professional.” You gestured to your surroundings, snickering to yourself.

“I seem to recall you inviting me into your home first,” he teased.

“Hey! I was having a home decorating crisis! I could not build that shelf myself.”

“Or, as it turns out, with my help.”

You snorted at the memory of your backwards shelf, which you had eventually decided to just make do with. As it turned out, Izuku was terrible at building furniture. He was great at making you happy though.

“Well, it all turned out for the best.”

“It sure did. But I think we can both agree that you’re the one who’s not professional here.”

You rolled your eyes, rising up on your tiptoes.

“How’s this for professional?” You breathed.

Izuku seemed like he might ask questions, but before he could, you kissed him gently. When you pulled away, you were both smiling. Your hands had moved to wrap around his neck, and his hand had fallen to your waist.

“I think I’m really starting to like professionalism.”

#mha #bnha #agedup!midoriya #prohero!deku #deku x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku

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thr-333 · 4 years ago

Text

Drastic Measures- Part 7

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Chill~

Wrote it all in an hour and 20 minutes just about? Not bad, not bad at all.

Ao3

First< Previous

----------

“Why! Why does it have to be so cold!” Marinette pulls on her coat tighter.

“Why did you come if you’re just going to complain?” Damian scowls, looking over the list they were given.

“Dick asked me to,” Marinette shivers, “Besides I need to get out and see the city, you said you would show me,”

“I only agreed to this because Dick insisted I apologize for trying to kill you,”

“You were trying to kill me?”

“... No?”

“Damian,”

“Fine,” He pulls off the sweater he was wearing, the one she had made him, “My bad, now keep warm,”

“My bad is not an apology,” Marinette chides pulling the sweater on, “If you didn’t like the sweater you could have just said so,”

“That's not-” Damina turn to see her smirk, tutting then turning back around, “You're incorrigible,”

“Your apology is accepted,” Marinette giggles skipping slightly to catch up, she takes note of how he shivers as a gust of wind blows through, “Hey you're cold now right? I have an idea,”

“I’m not cold,” Damian snaps, picking up the pace, “Unlike you, I have more discipline than that,”

“Oh please, you grew up in the desert right?” Damian glares at her, “What? You think I didn’t know anything? Maman not as good at hiding things as she thinks she is,”

“Be careful where you say that,” He warns, they walk for a little while more the temperature dropping. Marinette continues to keep an incredulous eye on Damian. After ten minutes he sighs, “What's your idea?”

“It involves me getting on your back,”

“Not a chance,” Damian tuts, “You could stab me in the back,”

“Literally or figuratively?” Another glare but Marinette just smiles under it, “Fine then, I’ll just take this sweater off and we can both freeze,”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Damian snatches it off her, “I’ll just wear it,”

And so he does. They walk for a while longer Marinette simultaneously congratulating and cursing herself for picking such a warm fabric for Damian's sweater as she shivers in the cold Gotham winds. Her teeth are chattering and they are still a long way off from their destination. Marinette starts to slow down, ever since she had become ladybug her tolerance to the cold was lowering, like how Adrien's eyesight at night kept improving; although she probably got the short end of the stick for that one. Her thoughts are interrupted by a long suffered sigh from Damian.

“Fine, we’ll do your plan,”

“Really?!”

“If we actually want to get there today, yes,”

---

“This was your plan!” Damian shouts as they run down the street.

“It’s a great plan!’ Marinette clings to his back.

“Everyones staring,” Damian scowls, the sweater just big enough to stretch over both of them locking Marinette against his back.

“Then run faster!”

“Maybe if you stopped strangling me I would!”

“Oh please, stop being dramatic,”

“Why don't you start running and we’ll see whos being dramatic!”

“I could probably get there before you!”

“Yeah right, you-”

“Wait! Wait! Go back!” Marinette tugs, Damian lets out a choked sound stopping as he brings his hands up to remove hers.

“What,” He is unable to get her off with the sweater around them both.

“Pet store,” Marinette shimmies down, managing to get out with some difficulty, “Look how cute- wait,”

“Where are you going!” Damian calls as she storms into the pet store, he trails reluctantly behind her. Marinette walks right up to the desk slamming her hand down.

“Excuse me are you in charge of this store?”

“I’m the manager, yes,” The man raises an eyebrow looking up from his newspaper.

“Are you aware that the enclosure out there is filthy?”

“Animals get dirty,”

“It’s a health code violation,” Marinette scolds, “You're going to make the animals sick,”

“Tt, she’s right,” Damian looks around the store, the rest of the cages in even worse condition, “Just what sort of business do you think you're running? These are live animals, you can’t even see into the fish tank at this point,”

“I’ve followed company policy,” The manger huffs, going back to the newspaper adding a mocking, “So if you want to take it up with anyone take it up with them,”

“Oh I will,” Damian hisses, before going to the other end of the store intently tapping at his phone.

“Ha, have fun getting bounced around the phones for the next ten hours,” The manager barks, Marinette rolls her eyes turning back to him.

“Look it may not be required by your employer but try to have some compassion these are living creatures, they look miserable,”

“Well then, why don’t you buy them if they look so miserable,”

“That's not the root of the problem and you know it,” Marinette reasons with the unreasonable, “You’ll just replace them with more animals, this place isn’t fit for that,”

She could just feel the negative energy coming from the place, a place of suffering for those who had no way out. Her magic had perked the animals up a bit but that wouldn't solve the problems at hand. Not that any of this seemed to get through to the manager as Marinette kept arguing. She brought up her phone and articles to help support her argument. Only finding to her disdain that the pet store franchise itself had a long history of animal abuse, that this was the norm, not an exception. They just threw money at any lawsuit that came their way and bribing inspectors.

“Why are you even working here if you hate-”

“Excuse me,” A new customer walks up, Damian close behind, “Could I look-”

“Do whatever you like!” The manager snaps, “Can’t you see I’m busy here?!”

“Do you treat all your customers like this? No wonder your not getting any business if the facilities alone didn’t scare people off,” Marinette finally snaps. Damian, dare she say looks impressed, which probably isn’t a good sign.

“You’re insulting me now?”

“I’ve been insulting you the past hour, nice of you to catch on,”

From there it devolves into a full argument. They rage while Damian and the other customer poke around the store, talking to each other. Damian keeps on making calls and Marinette wishes he would stop and come help back her up, he seemed just as disgusted with this place as she was. But whenever she sends a look his way Damian just brushes her off going back to his call.

The argument escalates. Marinette's magic lashing out, subconsciously sending the animals into a frenzy. Barks and howls ring out mixed with cat yowls and whatever noise the other animals can manage.

“Quiet down you!” The manager roars, winding up to hit a puppy yapping at him, Marinette moves just a fraction of a second too slow.

“How dare you,” Damian catches the fist, twisting the arm in a painful unnatural position, “You’re fired,”

“You can’t fire me!” He struggles in Damian's grip, who in turn looks completely unfazed by the effort.

“Actually I can,” Damina flips his screen around to show a contract, “I just brought the company,”

“You what?!” Both Marinette and the manager shout at the same time.

“Yes well, it was easy enough to get in touch with the president of the company, when I put in my offer he laughed me off,” Damian shrugs letting the shell shocked man go, “So I called in one of our best lawyers,”

Damian nods to the other customer, who nods back.

“She built a case for us compiling evidence from this store, thank you for full access by the way,” Damian looks smugly at the manager gaping like a fish, “Other lawyers were in charge of inspecting other stores and researching past allegations, and I had some working internationally look at the branches in other countries, the results were not flattering,”

Damian's glare turns cold and piercing. Marinette had been on the receiving end of that glare and would like to think she handled it better than this guy was.

“Couple that all with the declarations I recorded from you arguing with Marinette,” Damina inclines his head to her, Marinette nods kind of dumbly, “And we had quite the case to shut the business down, you can guarantee the Wayne influence and lawyers would prevent this all from being swept under the rug,”

“Wayne?!”

“Yes, and as you can imagine after we sent through the case file the owner wasn't laughing me off the phone, he agreed to my price,” The man was sweating buckets now as Damian advanced looming over him, “The contracts aren't finalized or signed yet but you can guarantee by the end of the week I will own this place,”

Damian leans over him as the manager tries to sink into the floor.

“So. You. Are. Fired.”

---

“So are you going to teach me the glare that makes grown men pee their pants and run for their lives or do I have to figure it out myself?” Marinette teases, picking through the stocks in the back.

“You wouldn't be able to pull it off,” Damian shoots back, taking the bag she hands him, “An emergency demand was put out for new workers, they’ll be here soon to do this,”

“Oh no you don’t you little rich boy,” Marinette laughs at the face he makes, “You don’t just get to roll through here, throw some money at it and expect your job to be done, you took this company on so show a little responsibility,”

“I am taking responsibility,” Damian scowls, “I fully plan on improving this place,”

“What? By hiring someone to take over with the vague demands of ‘make it better’?” Damian sour look is all the answer she needs, “No way, this is your own responsibility and no one else's, so you need to take a long hard look at what's wrong and figure out how to fix it,”

“If I recall this all is partly your fault,” Damian stacks another bag where she told him too.

“If I recall I didn’t tell you to buy an entire pet store franchise,” Not that she didn’t approve, “But fine, I’ll help you out if you want,”

“I didn’t say that,”

“You didn’t have to,” Damian huffs and looks away, Marinette smiles and picks up a bag of food, “First things first, the food is horrible quality, it’s all filler with little nutritional value,”

“I’ll order new stock right away,” Damian takes out his phone, Marinette snatches it from him.

“Hold on now,” Damian gives her that little put off look she finds adorable, “You have to look at all the problems first then make a plan of action or you're just running around like a headless chicken,”

“Your point?”

“The staff are also underpaid, it’s not enough to live off and certainly not enough to motivate a good work ethic,” Marinette hands back the phone, Damian pockets it, “So before you go around firing everyone that's ever worked here why don’t you try changing the bones of the company then picking out the bad seeds?”

“Alright,” Damian concedes, “... You have a point,”

“Was that tough to admit?”

“The only excruciating part of it is your smugness,”

“Why hello kettle,” Damina gives her a light glare but she just laughs it off.

“All these changes are going to be expensive,” Damian frowns looking through the statistics the lawyers had sent them, “The company was already falling into debt,”

“It needs a hook,” Marinette hums, “Something new and unique that no other chain has…. I got it!!”

She brushes past him, going for her sketchbook and starting the brainstorming process.

“Would you like to share your epiphany?” Damian asks after about five minutes of watching her sketch. “An exclusive pet clothesline!”

“Oh boy,”

---

“See I was right wasn't I?” Marinette finishes fixing the outfit onto Titus.

“I was under the impression you were going to make something vapid and ridiculous,” Damian deflects, looking at the raincoat Marinette had made for Titus, it fit him perfectly and worked well with his fur color as well, “This is at least useful,”

“Wow, that might be a bigger compliment than ‘it’s well made’ or is it?” Marinette cocks her head to the side, “Should I start a ‘Damian's compliments’ tier list?”

“Do not,” Damian calls Titus back to him, taking off the raincoat, “This should at least partly help make up for the new expenses,”

“What changes should we make first?” Marinette follows Damian inside, already sketching new designs into her book.

“There's no point in launching the pet clothes until the company goes through its rebrand, and that will take some time anyway,” They settle in a study they had commandeered to work together in, a sewing machine up near the window, “By the way whats your design fee?"

“Hm… make me a co-owner and we’ll forget about the design fee,” Marinette smiles as Damian doesn't immediately look disgusted by the prospect, “Besides If I recall this is partly my fault,”

“Fine co-owner,” Damian rolls his eyes at her, “I guess we’ll be drafting a new contract,”

“Make sure our shares are 50/50,”

“80/20,”

“Awe you’d let me have 80%”

Damian gives her a withering glare with no heat.

“50/50,” Marinette holds out her hand, “Equal,”

“... Equal,” Damian takes her hand, “You better design a lot of clothes,”

“Already on it,” Marinette holds up her new sketchbook, dedicated to just this, “Plus I’ll be part of the planning so let me in on it,”

“I was-” Damian cuts off glaring towards the door, Marinette follows his eye to see Dick and Adrien caught like deer in headlights looking at them with phones held up.

“Adrien!” Marinette starts towards them getting overtaken by Damian as they both start sprinting.

“Delete it or I destroy your phone!” He threatens, chasing them down the hall.

“Already backed it up to several computers!” Dick calls back, disappearing around the corner, the three yells disappearing into the distance. Marinette chuckles to herself, going back to finish up her designs.

--------

No tag list :P

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #MLB #ML #ml fic #Marinette #miraculous marinette #badass marinette #maribat #daminette

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