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willsimpforanyone · 3 years

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Hey there hope ur having an amazing day/night :D

-> Angel!Reader saving Wanda by taking their wings out for the first time since the avengers knew them and jumping off a building to get to Wanda.

Wanda X Reader obviously :)

ooo very cool request!

side note i adore getting asks it makes me feel like a real blog lol

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Really, I shouldn't have been there.

I'd only technically joined the Avengers about three weeks ago, I wasn't meant to be going on missions and things. Heck, I hadn't revealed half of my skills yet- I allowed people to think I was stronger, more agile, and more... perceptive than the average human. No need to let them know I could see auras just yet.

And up until the mission, there had been no need for them to know about my wings.

An angel's wings are a precious part of themselves, and I wasn't quite ready to show them to these people. I'd heard tales of wings being cut off, plucked, crushed, even ripped off to be experimented on- and while I didn't think the Avengers would do that, it was natural for me to be hesitant.

There was only one person, I believed, who I could trust. Her name was Wanda, Sokovian by nationality, red aura twisting around her like vines. It wasn't a threatening red, but it was powerful, angry and gentle at the same time. I was drawn to her, first out of curiosity, then out of a need for companionship, then, if I dare, romantic interest. She was kind where others were hesitant, a friend where others were just my trainers.

It was she who recommended me for this mission, as they needed to infiltrate a building; some would go from the roof down, the others would walk straight in through the entrance under the guise of a business deal. I was suggested to accompany the latter group as I was a 'good judge of character' and would know if we were about to be double-crossed. In reality, I could spot a liar from the subtle changes in their auras, but I kept that to myself.

How we ended up in a fistfight with every bodyguard in the building is somewhat of a mystery, but I believed it had something to do with knowing the second I walked into the building that we were in trouble and being ignored.

Wanda and I were directed to the roof where Captain America and a few others were having some trouble with the overwhelming number of people attacking them. I barely had time to blink before Wanda grabbed my hand, dragged me outside, swept me up into her arms and launched us at the sky. I squeaked in surprise and swung my arms round her neck. She laughed slightly, winking as we flew up to the roof, and deposited me into the fight.

Careful not to kill anyone- I was still an angel, just an aggressive one- I assisted my fellow Avengers in their endeavours. I took down five, six, seven people and they kept coming, surging forward like they genuinely thought they could get one up on several of the most powerful people on Earth. It was almost cute, despite the sickly, corrupted yellow state of their auras.

There were just... so many of them. This couldn't be natural, and I began to realise that these people were not entirely human. The darkish yellow of their auras wasn't normal; perhaps they were clones?

I whipped my head around, searching for Wanda to tell her my theory. I found her by the edge of the building, using her magic to push people- if they were people- away from her. I zigzagged my way over to her, and was within two metres of her when I saw the butt of a gun smack her on the back of her head.

I froze. She hadn't noticed anyone behind her. Neither had I. Time seemed to slow as Wanda crumpled like paper.

She lost her balance.

She was unconcious.

And she fell over the edge of the building.

Every thought about the people-clones, about not killing them, about withholding my power was doused with this powerful protective instinct. It took a split second to unfurl my wings and hurl myself over the edge with the witch.

I shot like an arrow towards her, matching her descent speed and catching her in my arms, holding her the way she had held me a little while ago. I swooped up into the sky, determined to get her as far away from harm as possible. Sparing a glance over my shoulder, I saw that the rest of the people-clones- reminder to myself, talk to someone about that theory- were almost completely dealt with, and I felt no guilt landing on a roof a few blocks away.

I was gentle in laying Wanda down, careful to keep her head on my lap and not on the gravel surface of the roof. After a few seconds, her eyes fluttered open. The adrenaline from the fight must've still been in her system as she bolted straight upright, narrowly missing my face, but immediately clutched her head, crying out in pain.

I moved so I was crouched at her side. "You got hit on the back of the head, I suggest you don't make any sudden movements." I reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her knee. "The others have dealt with the threat, I suggest we get back to the compound as soon as possible."

She didn't respond, staring at something over my shoulder. For a moment, I considered severe concussion before I realised I still had my wings out. I smiled gently at her. "Would you like to touch them?"

Eyes wide and childlike- concussion perhaps a factor- Wanda nodded. I sat cross-legged by her side and stretched a wing towards her. She was so careful, touching the feathers so lightly as if she thought them porcelain, fearful of breaking them. I shivered when she ran her hand down the top, stopping when she reached just above my shoulderblade.

"Wha- when..." Wanda curled her legs under her, sitting on her calves to reach up to my wings.

"I've always had them." I shrugged. "I apologise if this appears a betrayal of your trust- but an angel's wings are personal. They exist partly in the astral dimension, appearing only when the angel wishes them to. For example," I poked her cheek. "-when someone they care about is in danger."

Wanda laughed, and I smiled. She stood up, and held out a hand to help me off the roof. "Well, they're beautiful. As much as I would like to admire them longer, however, we should get back to the compound."

As if on queue, the pocket radio Wanda had crackled to life. "Wanda? Where are you? Are you okay?"

Wanda pressed a button, and spoke into the radio. "Yeah, I'm okay," she met my eyes again, and winked. "I was saved by an angel."

From the muffled radio, we gathered that everyone was okay, they were heading back to the compound to regroup- the mission hadn't been what you would call a success, but they'd got what they needed. I rolled my eyes when my name came up, preparing for reprimands for not being involved enough, but to my surprise, Captain America said I did a good job. Wanda grinned at me. "You have no idea, Cap."

I held out my hand as she put away the radio. "Shall I carry you? Or are you alright on your own?"

Wanda took my hand and tugged me closer. My wings instinctively curled around our bodies slightly, protectively. She wrapped her arms around my neck. "You know, I think I need you to carry me."

I swept her off her feet, a grin manifesting on my lips. "Only for the sake of your health, right?"

She nodded sagely. "Of course, I did get seriously bumped on the head after all."

I moved my head slightly closer to hers. "I think I can help with that."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah." I caught her lips in a kiss, holding her close. I could feel her lips curve into a smile as she kissed back, one hand moving up to cradle the back of my head. She was fire and magic and warm and soft and oh god I never wanted to stop kissing her. I laughed internally- I, a holy being, was enchanted by a witch. I'd never been so glad to have fallen.

We broke apart, the witch in my arms gasping for breath. "So," she panted. "...home?"

I grinned wickedly, and shot up into the sky. And if anyone worked out it was just so she'd hold onto me tighter, it was none of their business.

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i'm not joking when i said this was one of my favourite requests to write- the reader is gender neutral, of course, but it feels gay so i'm very very on board

thank you so much for this request!! i am prepared to do a part 2- it feels like it might be leading to a smut but that's up to you!

#requests are open!#open requests #wanda #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #wanda imagine #wanda x reader #angel!reader #scarlet witch x reader

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just-come-baek · 4 years

Text

get in, loser 1

Pairing: Taeyong x female!reader

Themes: smut | mafiaboss!taeyong | carthief!reader

Word count: 6.2k

Summary: How to get noticed by the most dangerous man in the country? I guess stealing his sport car and dying it hot pink must catch his attention.

A/N This series will be around 5 chapters long. New updates shall be posted once every two weeks I hope. Also, @starlightbebes challenged me into posting chapter 1 on Taeyong’s birthday, so I won. ^^ Pay up.

***

Considering it was Saturday night, the city seemed oddly serene. Any other night, I’d witness some wild shit, yet tonight, it was quite peaceful. No prostitutes were arguing with no-cooperative customers, no inexperienced adolescents throwing up in the public trash cans, no aggressive football spectators fighting with their rivals.

Despite the calm aura, the city was vibrant; colorful neon signs were blinking, inviting people into different liquor establishments, cars honking on drunken pedestrians jaywalking across the streets, a few undiscovered musicians playing on the main square with plenty of tourists recording them.

Each establishment promised an unforgettable night, and for some people, it would be a real dilemma to pick one among such a rich palette of entertainment. I, on the other hand, had a pretty well-defined plan of stealing a fancy car – a precious possession of one, infamous crime lord in the country.

It wouldn’t be my first car theft, yet it surely was going to be the most meaningful one. Everyone in town knew that Lee Taeyong was up to no good. When it came to his personal taste, though, it was impeccable. The most expensive, the most extravagant, the fastest cars belonged to him, so stealing one of his astounding vehicles would be the cherry on top of my villainous career.

Rumor had it, tonight he’s celebrating in his VIP club – the Cherry Bomb; if you ask me, its name is a little bit tacky, but who I am to judge? The crowd of people trying to get inside was enormous, so despite its name, the local must’ve been quite profitable.

Being the most dangerous crime lord in the country must be a pretty time-consuming profession – I wouldn’t expect him to get to the club before midnight. Regardless of what must’ve been on his to-do list tonight, his schedule was bound to be packed.

It was almost 1 o’clock when matte black carbon-fibred McLaren P1 LM with “DRAGON” written on its registration plate pulled over in front of the club; in an instant, people in the queue grew silent, mesmerized by the handsome man who nonchalantly got out of the car, tossing the keys to the valet boy.

Lee Taeyong was just as good-looking as he was deadly – with his styled-up tousled vibrant-red hair, ripped black jeans, and a top-brand leather jacket, he made people turn their heads despite their gender and sexual orientation. In all honesty, I did my research, I had dozens of pictures of him, and I knew what to expect. The pictures didn’t do him justice, though. His natural beauty was enchanting, but when topped with his charisma and cocky confidence, it was a lethal mixture.

When Taeyong strolled inside his establishment, I, just like the other people who were in rapture, could finally get my shit together. It was remarkably difficult to remain in the right state of mind when he was within your eyesight, and tonight, it was going to be my most significant theft, so I couldn’t get distracted.

“You can do this,” I encouraged myself before running across the street, ready to execute the first stage of my plan.

I didn’t dare to doubt my skills for even a second. Tonight I would succeed, and Taeyong would have to call an Uber to get back to his grand mansion.

***

It’s been three days since my ingenious heist, and I was getting impatient. I wanted Taeyong to find me and talk to me, yet I was waiting and waiting, and he didn’t seem interested in getting his car back. It was actually disappointing. I couldn’t contain my curiosity; I just needed to see his reaction after I had his car tuned. I had made sure to be caught on their CCTV, so he would quickly track my traces, but it only proved me he was working with rookies.

Checking the time on my wristwatch, I walked into the run-down car repair shop, wanting to sneak one last peek at my masterpiece before I’d put a cover over it so Taeyong would gasp upon the big reveal. The new car paint looked amazing – Doyoung, my friend and a mechanic, did a great job dying it hot pink. Too bad, he was too scared to wait for Taeyong with me. I couldn’t blame him, though. Taeyong was known for his short temper, and it was understandable that Doyoung didn’t want to stick around to witness Taeyong’s wrath.

“What is taking him so long?” I asked myself as I plopped down in a ripped leather armchair, cracking a cold one. “How long does it take them to find the guys who don’t want to be found?” I wondered, pulling my phone, scrolling through the new content on my social media.

It was taking them forever, but when the sun was slowly setting behind the horizon, I could hear a vehicle park in front of the car repair shop. Judging by the engine’s roars, the car was expensive.

It must’ve been Taeyong himself.

“Finally,” I hollered as I got on my feet, throwing my slowly dying phone on the armchair. If the crime lord showed up, he needed to be welcomed accordingly. Taeyong was a royalty amongst gangers, and he deserved the best treatment.

Midnight blue Bugatti Chiron registered under “FURY” stopped on the parking lot, and I waited for Taeyong to get out. Seconds passed, and he was still sitting comfortably in the vehicle, building the tension. I didn’t feel stressed, though. Although we hadn’t been properly introduced, I knew a whole lot about him – he was famous for his rage. However, right now, he had to be impressed rather than enraged. Or at least, it was the emotion I hoped for him to feel.

Only a complete psycho, and me, would dare to steal one of his automobiles.

The descending sun was blinding me, and when I raised my hand to block the direct sunlight, the car doors opened. Even in daylight, Taeyong looked like a five-course meal. Today, he was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a Gucci T-shirt; the outfit was simple, yet on him, it looked elevated.

“Very impressive,” he shouted loudly before he coolly walked over. “You’ve got balls, I have to give you that,” he added, and I smirked, considering his words as a compliment. Men of high positions often have trouble complimenting people, let alone women, and Taeyong didn’t seem to be an exception.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, too,” I answered politely, offering him a handshake, which he contemptuously denied. “I must say, I expected to meet you sooner,” I jabbed, but Taeyong only looked at me condescendingly before he walked inside, impatient to check up on his stolen property.

“My people located you yesterday morning, but I wanted to see you in person, and you must know, I am a busy person,” he explained, studying the shabby interior. “No one steals from me.”

“Well… I already have, and it was easier than I previously assumed,” I answered confidently before approaching the cover. “I have a surprise for you, are you ready?” Taeyong didn’t even flinch, and I considered his indifference as an agreement. With one quick pull, I uncovered the vehicle, allowing him to see my teeny tiny change. “I hope you like pink.”

Taeyong grew silent.

I had told Doyoung to change the car paint to hot pink, yet Taeyong didn’t even blink. I expected him to get pissed or, at least, annoyed, but when I looked at his features, I couldn’t see any reaction.

“Actually, pink is my favorite color,” Taeyong emotionlessly announced, and I only stared at him in utter confusion.

What the fuck?

“Well… I expected a different reaction,” I spoke, the wires in my brain incapable of coming up with anything intelligent. A guy with such a foul reputation favors the color pink.

Imagine my shock.

Apparently, Taeyong is a man of many layers.

“Who are you?” Taeyong condescendingly asked as he sat comfortably in the armchair, putting my phone on the armrest. Calmly, he leaned backward, crossed his legs, and entwined his fingers over his bent knee, waiting for me to tell him everything he wanted to know.

“I think you already know who I am,” I stated, and he just stared at me intensely. His people must’ve done a background check on me, yet he still wanted to hear it again. Stealing his car was one thing, but disrespecting him about such trivial matter seemed way worse. Doing something so risky and bold was admirable in his eyes, but wasting his time like this was just annoying, so I simply did what was expected of me.

I told Taeyong about my childhood – how I spent my allowance on go-kart races; it was my escape whenever my father got drunk and picked up fights with my mom. Then, I disclosed my secrets on how I began stealing cars – when I was seventeen, because of excessive drinking, my father needed a liver transplant, and it was the only way of getting money remotely quickly. Later, at the age of twenty-one, I participated in my first street race, though this time, it wasn’t because I needed money – I did it because I enjoyed the thrill.

“How did you steal it? How, on Earth, did you go inside the club without any of my workers noticing you?” Taeyong asked, and although he must’ve already concluded my operating plan, he wanted me to explain it myself. This time around, I didn’t even hesitate.

“I blended in,” I shortly answered with a shrug. “It wasn’t that difficult to find out all the information I needed to get inside unnoticed. I checked all your staff’s social media accounts; it took me like… three days of stalking to get their names and work schedules. That night, I sneaked into the club right after your arrival, and when somebody asked me something, I told them I was busy doing the thing the manager wanted me to do. They just assumed I am the new girl. Normally, I don’t do things like that when I steal a car, but this time around, I wanted to do something extra. Are you impressed?” I challenged, and Taeyong cocked his eyebrow, deeply in thought.

“Huh, last question. Why have you done it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I inquired rhetorically, and Taeyong didn’t even bother to give me a proper answer. He seemed bored, and it was making me feel a little bit fed-up. “Well… in all honesty, I am sick and tired of freelancing, I want to work for you,” I elaborated, and Taeyong just chuckled as if I just told him a hilarious joke. Why was he laughing? It was a reasonable proposition, and besides, I’ve already proven my amazing skills.

“I’m not recruiting, sorry,” Taeyong spoke when he stood up and glanced at his pink vehicle. Well… it was a harsh rejection. “You have one day to return my car, or I will have my henchman kill you,” he added, walking up to me until he invaded my personal space.

“Asshole,” I whispered loud enough for him to hear me. Taeyong already knew what I was capable of, yet for some reason, he still decided not to give me a chance. It was a dick move, and I couldn’t let him have the last word.

“You’re feisty. I like that,” Taeyong said at last, “Let’s meet on Friday, at the Superhuman. Midnight. Don’t be late.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, and don’t forget to bring my fucking car.”

***

“She’s here,” Jaehyun told Taeyong as soon as the gatekeeper forwarded the message. “I can’t believe you didn’t kill her back then,” he added matter-of-factly, remembering the infamous car theft. No matter how many times he thought about it, he couldn’t comprehend how someone could be so stupid to mess with his boss. What puzzled him even more, however, was the fact that Taeyong seemed rather impressed by this woman’s actions.

“I was surprised too,” Taeyong answered honestly. “Can you believe she had the audacity to ask me to recruit her?”

Jaehyun was stupefied. “Well… are you going to?”

“Actually, I am not sure,” Taeyong replied hesitantly. It wasn’t how the regular recruitment process worked, but the woman intrigued him. She had seemed quite keen on working for him, and he was curious how much she wanted this job. “I haven’t decided yet,” Taeyong added, and Jaehyun looked at his boss in concern; Taeyong was impulsive in his decisions, and the fact that he hasn’t made up his mind yet was rather peculiar.

“You can’t be serious,” Jaehyun commented, hoping for Taeyong to come back to his senses. This wasn’t the way the things were dealt with here; if someone dared to mess with the leader, death was the kindest thing they could hope for. If other members found out about it, they might’ve thought Taeyong was getting soft. She disrespected the leader, and she ought to have faced the consequences.

“Bring her in, Jaehyun,” Taeyong ordered, dismissing Jaehyun’s concerns.

“Of course.”

“I expected to meet you in one of the VIP lounges, not in your office,” I spoke the second Taeyong’s henchman led me into an expensive-looking office at the back of the club. “You should’ve given me heads-up, I would’ve dressed accordingly,” I carried on, glancing down at my not suitable clothes.

My outfit consisted of a cropped T-shirt, denim shorts, fishnets, and a pair of combat shoes, and it did not look appropriate under these circumstances. I was expecting a flirty conversation in Taeyong’s natural habitat of leather lounges, expensive drinks, and beautiful girls competing amongst each other for his attention, but instead, he surprised me with a job interview in his private office at the back of his club. If only I had known, I would’ve dressed suitably.

“Leave us alone, Jaehyun,” Taeyong spoke in an authoritarian tone, and his associate left the room without any further comment.

The second I heard the doors click, I let out a breath of relief. For some reason, the henchman’s presence gave me chills. It was difficult to remain composed with Taeyong in such close vicinity, however, when accompanied by the other dangerous man, I felt uncomfortably anxious.

Taeyong’s piercing gaze was fixated on me, and it made me blush a little bit. He was hot as hell, and in all honesty, any woman would react this way if alone with him.

With one fluid motion, he commanded me to sit, and with a sheepish smile on my face, I obliged.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” I started, but Taeyong only smirked, sliding an A4 format envelop across the desk. “What is this?” I asked in confusion, but Taeyong just sat back, entwining his fingers together, enjoying my reaction.

Gang members didn’t sign employment contracts – that’d be silly.

“You admittance,” he started, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to understand what the hell was going on. “Inside the envelope, you’ll find all the necessary information about your new assignment. Bring this car to me within a week, and you’ll be officially the newest addition to the family.”

It was interesting.

Taeyong had already seen me in action, yet he needed another proof of my qualifications. Actions speak louder than words, but my most recent ones screamed and ought to echo in his ears for years!

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s just a regular procedure, don’t take it personally,” Taeyong added, but I wasn’t exactly buying that. There must’ve been something that he didn’t tell me. There was a catch, it must’ve been. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have that playful spark in his eyes the whole time.

“I’ll text you the meeting location sometime this week,” he added with a genuine smile, and I didn’t even dare to question how he got my number. “Good luck, doll,” smirking, Taeyong whispered, and I started questioning his intentions.

It must’ve been a set-up.

“I look forward to hearing from you,” I answered respectfully, quickly standing up, wanting to run out of the club. Curiosity was killing me; I had to peek inside the envelope, but I couldn’t do it in front of Taeyong. I hoped he acknowledged me as fearless and confident, and I couldn’t allow him to change his opinion about me. One hesitant glance at the papers could ruin my image, and I couldn’t let it happen.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t be serious! Tell me you didn’t recruit her,” Jaehyun angrily stormed into Taeyong’s office, fed up with the leader’s decision. The girl left the club alive, and it’s not the outcome he anticipated. Jaehyun would break her neck if only Taeyong told him to. Letting her scot-free was a mistake, and it was crazy that Jaehyun was the only one to realize it.

“Calm down, Jaehyun,” Taeyong announced casually, making Jaehyun a bit confused. “I did give her an assignment, but don’t you worry about it. She’s gonna fail. She’s good, but not that good,” Taeyong added, and both of them smirked mischievously.

***

I’ve never been more anxious. My grip on the envelope was tight, my knuckles turning white, and I really had mixed feelings about opening it. Taeyong’s mischievous smirk couldn’t have been a good omen.

On the other hand, I couldn’t let the stress weaken me, so I did what any other person in my shoes would do – I went to the liquor store and bought the biggest bottle of gin they had. Regardless of what Taeyong had assigned me to do, it would be easier to digest when drunk.

Then I hailed the cab and dialed Doyoung’s number. He picked up after the fourth ring. “I’m coming over,” I quickly said, notifying him before my arrival. As my friend, he would help me if the alcohol was to fail.

“You’re alive, so I assume it didn’t go that bad,” Doyoung spoke when he opened the doors and let me in. Not bothering to greet him, I walked passed him and shoved the bottle of gin into his hands. “Are we celebrating?” He asked, kicking the doors shut, “please, tell me we’re celebrating.”

“I don’t know,” I answered, plopping into an old armchair, throwing the envelope on the coffee table. “We’re about to find out. Taeyong gave me another assignment, but pour me a drink first. I’m not sure I can handle it sober,” I explained, and Doyoung knew what to do. Within a minute, he was back with two Scooby-doo mugs and a bottle of tonic.

“It can’t be that bad,” he started as he sat down on the couch on the other side of the coffee table, pouring us drinks, which were basically 80% alcohol. “I mean… you’ve stolen his car; can it get any more challenging than that?” Doyoung asked, and I actually had to admit he was right. Taeyong’s the most dangerous crime lord in the country; as long as he didn’t make me steal Kim Jongun’s tank, I should be fine. However, on the second thought, I didn’t know Taeyong that well, so the guess might’ve not been that farfetched.

“I don’t want to open this envelope,” I confessed as I picked up the mug with Shaggy’s face and took a large gulp.

“Do you want me to do that for you?” Doyoung proposed, and I nodded. Perhaps if Doyoung read it out for me, it would’ve been easier to accept my fate. “Because you’re all stressed out, I’m all fidgety too,” Doyoung added before he grabbed the envelope, looking inside.

“What does it say?” I inquired in curiosity, hoping to hear some good news.

“It looks like you gotta steal a yellow Ferrari LaFerrari,” Doyoung started, as he pulled out a picture of my target. OK, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, it was doable. “And it belongs to someone called Yuta,” he spoke, and I jumped to my feet and snatched the papers out of Doyoung’s hands in disbelief.

It must’ve been a sick joke.

“It can’t be,” I whispered, refusing to comprehend what Taeyong wanted of me. He was a complete psycho if he thought I could steal one of Yuta’s cars.

“Do you know this dude?” Doyoung inquired, reaching for his cup with Fred.

“Do I know this dude?” I deadpanned, trying not to burst out in tears. I was royally screwed. “It’s Nakamoto Yuta. He’s the royalty of Yakuza. He’s basically Taeyong’s biggest rival,” I explained, and it got Doyoung speechless.

“Well… it sucks,” he whispered, downing his drink, ignoring the burn. “What are you gonna do?”

“Good question,” I replied, coping Doyoung’s actions, drinking my gin to the very last drop. “Even if I manage to steal his car, how am I supposed to get it across the border? It’s a suicide mission.”

“Is there anything else in the envelope?” Doyoung asked, and I put all the papers on the coffee table. Among documents about Yuta’s bio, there was a check for 20 grand written under my name. “Mr. Bad Boy must’ve felt generous,” he commented, but I didn’t find it amusing. Mr. Bad Boy, as Doyoung eloquently put it, would kill me if I failed this mission.

“Generous or not, I’m gonna be dead if I don’t bring this car to him within a week,” I muttered, feeling helpless. I lacked ideas on how to conduct the theft successfully, and the time was slowly running out.

“You can do this,” Doyoung stated confidently, not even a sliver of hesitation in his tone. He was absolutely sure of my skills, and I wished I had as much faith in myself as he had in me. “We have no time to waste; pack everything you need, we’re going to Japan.”

“Do you have a plan, though?”

“We’ll come up with one on our way.”

***

Doyoung was right; we had no time to waste. God, in times like these, I was really thankful he was my friend. Right now, when I was a nervous wreck, he was the voice of reason. If it wasn’t for him, I’d get wasted and pass out in the poodle of my own vomit. Thanks to him, I was only slightly tipsy, but productive as fuck. We made a stop by my apartment and his car repair to get everything necessary, and then took a train to the harbor.

The first ferry to Japan was leaving the docks at 7 o’clock. The journey was about to last more or less 8 hours, it was plenty of time to finish the entire bottle of gin and come up with a foolproof plan on how to steal that Ferrari.

“How about you seduce Yuta, and he lets you borrow his car?” Doyoung voiced his seventh plan this morning, and in comparison to his previous ideas, it actually seemed doable. “It’s great in its simplicity,” he added, and I shook my head in disappointment. Even if I was his type, how was I supposed to bullshit my way into his pants without any Japanese skills?

“How about you seduce Yuta, and when he’s busy drilling your ass, I’ll sneak into his mansion and snatch the car?” I proposed, and Doyoung fake-gagged at the thought of doing this. Or maybe, he just has had one shot of gin too many. One could never be sure…

“How about you seduce Yuta and talk him into doing it in his car, and when you’re about to do it, I knock him out with a rock?”

“How about we go to Yuta’s club, and you challenge him in a singing duel, and you win the car fair and square?”

“How about we find Yuta’s doppelganger to steal his identity and pay him to steal the car for you?”

“How about we kidnap Yuta and keep him hostage until they give us the car?”

“How about we hypnotize Yuta into making him lend us his car?”

Truthfully, we struggled a lot while trying to figure out the best way to prove my worth to Taeyong. Stealing Yuta’s car wasn’t an easy assignment – some people would say it was impossible. Thankfully, we came up with one solution throughout our drunken brainstorm that wasn’t that bad…

We were so drunk that I couldn’t actually remember who came up with this idea. One second, Doyoung and I were brainstorming, then, a moment later, someone woke us up because we reached the shore.

“Come on, we have no time,” Doyoung said as he picked up his bag, urging me to pick up mine and get off the ferry. I rubbed my eyes and looked at him, wondering how, on Earth, he wasn’t hungover. “You’ve got only six days left…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I answered, groaning.

I had an unpleasant feeling in my gut, telling me this week was going to be awful, but at least we had figured out a plan. It was far from perfection, but with proper execution, I could pull this through.

***

By sheer luck, I managed to accomplish my seemingly impossible mission. Though I didn’t fully believe in the plan, we didn’t make a single mistake, and after three days of data analyzing and one night of the actual heist, we were on our way back.

Hopefully, it was the only recruitment assignment that Taeyong wanted me to fulfill.

On Friday, one hour before the meet-up, Taeyong sent me the location.

In an hour, I’d become one of his people, and I wanted to look worthy of the new position. Wisely, I chose my best outfit, deciding to wear a pair of black leather trousers, a modest white button-down shirt, and fancy boots on a 10 centimeters heel. I looked formal, but with a fierce twist, and I gave off that cutthroat businesswoman vibe. I lived for this outfit. And to top it all, I carefully applied make-up, making sure to highlight all of my features.

I expected to meet with Taeyong in his extravagant mansion, yet he surprised and scared me at the same time with his decision. This gig cost me a lot of stress, and the last thing I wanted was to meet with the most dangerous thug in the country in a deserted meeting point in the city outskirts.

Trying to remain calm, I sighed to shake off all types of negative thoughts. Terrifying scenarios were playing in my head in which Taeyong shot me in the head and dumped my body somewhere in the woods. Taeyong was a dangerous gangster, but I believed he had the honor and would not kill me without any concrete reason.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same thing about his henchmen – this Jaehyun guy in particular. It was obvious the guy hated me and was pissed with Taeyong because of me. I didn’t fancy meeting with him, it would be best if Taeyong and I could talk alone.

Punctually, I arrived at the meeting point. Nonchalantly, I got out of the vehicle, shut the doors close, and leaned against the hood, waiting for Taeyong to appear. The night was warm, yet a little bit windy – it was perfect for the employment celebration.

Taeyong was running a bit late, but I didn’t mind. Besides, he was the most wanted thug in the country; he wasn’t running late – anyone he was meeting with was just too early.

So I waited.

Thankfully, I had plenty of time to psych myself up, so when I heard an engine roar in the distance, I didn’t panic. I was confident enough to face Taeyong and genuinely smile in response to his compliments. This theft was epic, and I expected to hear how impressed he was of me. It was the only reaction I hoped to get.

I was right, it had to be Taeyong. Who else could’ve been in the jet black Audi R8 Spyder registered under “WHIPLASH”?

Having parked right beside me, Taeyong got out of the car, carefully inspecting the Ferrari. His focused eyes were studying the vehicle’s features as if trying to tell it indeed belonged to Yuta. In the meantime, I studied Taeyong’s outfit.

Tonight, he was wearing all black: a pair of high combat shoes, black cargo pants, a see-through shirt, and a leather jacket. The outfit was on point, but when topped with his new haircut – tousled and of powder pink color, Taeyong looked like a model. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out that modeling companies contact him every once in a while to recruit him.

“How did you do it?” Taeyong asked, his tone telling me he didn’t believe in my talent. Well… that hurt a little bit, but proving him wrong gave me a lot of pleasure at the same time.

“It wasn’t easy,” I started, not really wanting to spill the beans; especially, when the story wasn’t as impressive as he might’ve thought. “I really wanted this job, so I had to figure out a plan. You know how it is… you gotta discover your enemies’ weaknesses and use them to your advantage.”

“It doesn’t answer my question, doll,” Taeyong remarked, smirking at the nickname he once again used to refer to me. It must’ve really stuck with him. “I gotta be honest with you, I expected you to fail, but you actually did it. I’m impressed,” he added, and I smiled, swiping my hair to the back in a nonchalant manner.

“What can I say? I’m really good at what I do,” I replied, looking into his eyes, trying to remain in the confident pose. “Now, it would be a mistake not to hire me,” I trailed off, making Taeyong smirk again. He was gorgeous, but when that mischievous smirk decorated his face, he was just breath-taking.

With his hands in the pockets, Taeyong took a few nonchalant steps toward me and placed his hands on the hood of the car, leaning in, trapping me between his arms. His stern glace was trying to penetrate my mind, to read me, but I managed to remain calm.

I wanted to work for him, not to hop on his dick, and though the second option seemed rather tempting, I had my priorities set straight.

“From the moment I saw you, I knew you were special,” Taeyong whispered in a husky voice, and I looked up into his eyes, swallowing hard. He was indisputably intimidating, but I couldn’t let his charm overtake me. “You seem troublesome, but at the same time, awfully skilled.”

“You bet,” I answered, trying to ignore the fact that Taeyong just pushed his leg between my thighs, inching closer and closer with every second. “Is that how you treat all your employees?” I asked, trying not to lose my cool.

“They’re not employees, they’re family,” Taeyong clarified, and I rolled my eyes, actually expecting his kind of answer from him. “And that would be weird if I treated them this way, wouldn’t it?”

“They wouldn’t be your family, but your orgy if you ask me,” I spoke matter-of-factly, waiting for his reaction since I doubted anyone was this frank with him.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re gonna be a huge pain in the ass?” Taeyong asked, hopefully not expecting an answer. “Quite talented one,” he added, dropping his head down to my neck, placing a delicate peck against my sensitive skin.

“But hey, it’s what keeps everything fresh and exciting,” I offered, suggesting looking on the bright side of these circumstances. “So… speaking of my recruitment…” I mentioned, internally wishing for Taeyong to keep his hands to himself. I was trying to be professional, and it was incredibly difficult with the boss, basically making out with my neck.

“One more test and you’re officially a new addition to the family,” Taeyong said sternly, finally pulling out. “You said you race, I want to see you in action,” he added, and I bit my bottom lip due to stress. Seriously? Another test? He got to be kidding me. “Don’t worry; it’s a formality at this point.”

Honestly, his words didn’t cheer me up at all. I had stolen his car, and then I had been to Japan to steal his rival’s car. And now, he wanted me to pass another test. Come on!

“All you gotta do is to give me a lift back to my mansion,” Taeyong announced, somewhat excited to see my driving performance. “The route takes up to 20 minutes, so I’m gonna give you ten. It sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

“What about your car? I wouldn’t leave it here if I were you,” I remarked, trying to make out a logical answer. I wouldn’t leave my bike here, let alone a sports car, knowing how much crime was going on in this particular part of the city.

“Normally, I’d not, but you see… I caught a flat tire,” Taeyong explained, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to see which tire was pierced. I didn’t notice any damage, but then, Taeyong pulled out his gun, shooting through the left back tire, making his point. “It was an exceptionally unfortunate accident,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at him.

He was a mad man.

“OK, fine, get in, loser,” I said, inviting him inside the car. Having sat comfortably and fastened our seatbelts, Taeyong put the location into the GPS. “Are you gonna time me?”

“Of course,” Taeyong answered, extending his arm, staring at his expensive wristwatch. “You have ten minutes, starting… now.”

Carefully, I chose one of my playlists before driving off.

It was a wild ride. I was driving twice as fast as the road signs were telling me to while singing my heart out to Backstreet Boys’ biggest hits “Everybody” and “I Want It That Way”. At this point, Taeyong was probably questioning whether it was safe to get in the car with me, or not. Though I encouraged him to join me in this carpool karaoke, yet he decided not to.

The navigation system was giving me weird directions, trying to lead me into congestion. Listening to my driver’s instinct, I sped through some self-discovered shortcuts. Judging my Taeyong’s expression, he had no idea what I was doing.

In the middle of “I Want It That Way”, I had to speed up even more. Each song is about four minutes long, so I still had about three minutes left to make it to the mansion, and though I seemed rather calm, I was out of my mind.

I’ve gone too far to lose right now. I couldn’t let this short race end up my flourishing career. I had stolen two cars within two weeks, and both vehicles belonged to the most dangerous men in their countries. I couldn’t lose now.

Breaking probably all traffic laws, I managed to reach Taeyong’s mansion before the boys got to finish the last chorus.

“You’re a triple threat, doll,” Taeyong said, and I wondered what the third admirable thing about me was. Undoubtedly, he was impressed with my theft and racing skills, yet I didn’t have a clue what was the third factor. “You’re officially one of us,” he added, and I smiled widely, ecstatic to finally hear his words of approval.

After so much testing, I finally proved my worth to him, and he took me under his wings.

Having pulled out his phone, Taeyong gave me a few instructions. “From this moment onward, Lucas is your direct superior, you gotta report everything back to him; I texted you the address. Be there first thing in the morning. Better be on time, Lucas doesn’t like it when people are late.”

“Thank you, Taeyong.”

“Don’t thank me, doll,” Taeyong replied, opening the doors, ready to exit the vehicle. “You have no idea what you’ve got yourself into.”

“I’ve got one more question…” I hollered, and Taeyong sat back in the passenger seat, waiting for my final inquiry. “What am I supposed to do with this car?” I asked, and Taeyong shrugged nonchalantly, suggesting it was not his problem.

“Get rid of it, obviously,” Taeyong answered, confirming my suspicions. “It belongs to Yuta, and the last thing I want is him realizing that I have it. Burn it down, dump it in the lake, I don’t care, just make sure it’s not gonna be found.”

“Great,” I whispered, losing enthusiasm with each voiced letter. It was problematic to bring it here, yet disposing of it was going to be even worse.

“Don’t lose your spirit, doll,” Taeyong added, leaning down towards me. With his right hand, he raised my chin and pressed a delicate peck against the skin of my cheek. “Good luck, make your daddy proud,” he whispered before exiting the car, shutting the doors close.

Though Taeyong was long gone, I was sitting in the vehicle, not leaving the driveway. What the hell just happened? Not only was he using this stupid nickname, but then he dropped that daddy bomb. I was not prepared for this.

#taeyong smut #nct smut #neosmutcollective #taeyong angst #nct angst #taeyong #nct #nct 127 #nct u #mafia taeyong #crime lord taeyong #lee taeyong #taeyong fanfiction #taeyong fanfic #taeyong story #mafia!taeyong #action #comedy

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crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years

Text

Nights in the City

Switch AU

A JSE Fanfic

Almost forgot to queue this, oops. Luckily I remembered just in time :) Anyway, this is a chapter about Schneep, because I feel like we should give him more attention in this AU. I mean, he’s a cool badass superhero, and we haven’t seen that much superhero-ing so far! So, here’s a short chapter about what that usually entails for him, with some cameos from the boys and some background characters. Enjoy :)

More of this AU found here

When most people lied about calling in sick to work, they were planning on doing something fun with their free time. But when Schneep lied about being sick, it was because he’d heard that there were some shady dealings going down on the north side of town that morning, and he had to be there to hear the information. Truly, the life of a vigilante was a glamorous one.

At least he’d had an extra-large cup of coffee that morning to make up for it. That would keep him alert as he waited on a rooftop ledge for said shady people to show up. This would be a terrible place to lose his balance. But it was the best hiding spot in the area, partially covered by a decorative stone outcropping while still being within earshot of the street below. It was a cloudy day, and not a lot of people were out and about. Which is why, when two people walked up to each other and sat down on a bench outside the building where Schneep was hiding, he paid extra close attention.

Luckily, there wasn’t too much wind or other background noise. He managed to get the gist of what these two were talking about. They were using a lot of the common code words that criminals in the city had developed. And he was familiar enough with that code to figure out they were talking about smuggling some firearms into the city. They mentioned the west edge more than once, referencing some common location that he wasn’t familiar with. And then they left.

Schneep frowned under his mask. It wasn’t a lot to go off of...but he didn’t mind. It would be nice to distract himself with a normal criminal case. To take his mind off all the stressful supernatural shit they’d been going through for the past months. And as a distraction, it was working. As he carefully slid off the roof ledge and onto a windowsill below, he was already running through the crime hotspots he knew about in the west side of the city.

Now that he was grabbing onto the windowsill below, he was about twenty feet above ground, so he dropped off the building altogether. With the ease of years of practice, he landed on his feet, letting his specially designed boots absorb the shock of the fall. Great. Now all he had to do was go home and spend the rest of the day narrowing down locations.

But as he turned to leave, Schneep paused. There was a car parked down the street, on the opposite side. Not unusual, but...it had been parked there when he arrived to eavesdrop on the criminals’ conversation. An hour ago. And again, not too unusual, but...it just didn’t look like the kind of car that would be common in this area. It was too new and clean.

Wary, Schneep looked away from it. After a moment’s hesitation, he started to walk down the street away from the car, remaining on edge and listening for anything odd.

Sure enough, as soon as he started to walk away, he heard the sound of a car starting and pulling onto the road. Going slow. Approaching. He sped up a bit, glancing around for alternate routes.

After only a minute, the car was driving alongside him. He glanced over at it just as the window rolled down. A voice shouted, “Hey!”

And Schneep immediately turned and ran into a gap between the buildings. “Hey wait!” The voice shouted, and he heard the car stop, but he didn’t slow down. There was a fire escape up ahead with a ladder, pulled up so the end was about six and a half feet off the ground. He jumped, catching onto the bottom rung, and started climbing. There were more shouts on the ground below. He didn’t pay attention to what they were saying. Instead, once he reached the first landing of the fire escape, he pushed open the window and ducked inside the—fortunately—abandoned building.

He quickly found the staircase and climbed up until he reached the roof access. Once up there, he glanced around and noticed that this building was fairly close to one of the ones next to it. So without hesitation, he jumped across the gap and onto the next building’s roof. Only then did he pause, and look over the edge to the street below.

The building was about five stories tall. Short enough that he could see a figure on the sidewalk below, tall enough to make it difficult to tell who they were. Luckily, he didn’t have to. He’d gotten a pretty good look of her when she rolled down the car window earlier. It was that detective, Kikelomo. The one who’d been working on Jackie’s disappearance, and later, the kids’ as well. And...the detective he’d ran into when he’d snuck into the police station a month ago.

“Scheiße,” Schneep cursed. He’d half-hoped that she’d forgotten about seeing him, but apparently not. And apparently she’d managed to put together that the stranger from that day was him...or, more accurately, was his ‘hero identity,’ Von Voltage. It wasn’t surprising. After all, he’d zapped a couple people when getting away. Probably a big no-no to zap people working for the police, but he’d been more concerned with leaving as fast as possible.

Was she looking for him? She must have been, but how did she find him? Silently, Schneep watched as she walked out to her car—which she parked in the middle of the street when she got out to chase him, that was a bit of a dick move—and climbed into the driver’s side, soon speeding off. He waited until the car was out of sight before leaving.

———————

A while later, Schneep arrived at Marvin and Jameson’s house, still in his super suit. He’d been careful not to be seen while running here, just in case Kikelomo was still trailing him without him knowing. But by the time he reached their street, he was pretty sure she was gone. This neighborhood wasn’t too busy, any activity was noteworthy. But he didn’t see anything strange. And JJ’s car was still in his driveway, so at least one of them was home.

Letting himself relax a bit, Schneep hurried to their front door, pulling his mask off as soon as he reached the doorstep. Without knocking, he opened the door, calling out, “Hello? Who is home?” And then he froze.

Normally, the front hall of the town house was empty. But not today. And the person he ran into wasn’t Marvin or JJ. It was Jack. Leaning against the wall by the kitchen entrance, Sam on his shoulder, looking at his phone. But he looked up at the sound of Schneep’s voice. And slowly, took in the outfit he was wearing. “Well that would explain some things,” he muttered, looking down at Sam. “Wouldn’t it?” They nodded.

“I—I—uh—you—it’s—ah—” Schneep stammered for a few seconds before clearing his throat. “What are you doing here?” he asked, slowly closing the front door behind him.

“JJ called me. There’s...um...a situation.” Jack gestured towards the kitchen entrance. Now that Schneep was getting over the shock of running into a stranger, he could hear someone’s voice coming from the room. “Apparently everyone else was busy.”

Schneep frowned. “Excuse me.” He walked past Jack and peered into the kitchen.

The voice that Schneep could hear was Marvin’s. He was arguing loudly with JJ. But Schneep could tell that wasn’t the ‘situation’ Jack was referring to. No, the ‘situation’ probably had to do with the fact that Marvin was pale as a sheet and sweating, even as he continued to argue. JJ wasn’t arguing back because his hands were busy helping keep Marvin upright, arms wrapped around his torso. Marvin clearly didn’t have the energy to stand on his own, and was holding onto JJ’s shirt tightly, even as he continued to protest.

“—not worth th’ trouble, it’s all fine,” Marvin was saying. “Y’can just go on and stop fuckin’ worryin’ about me. I can handle t’is, ‘ve done it a million times.”

JJ frowned, and didn’t say anything. Oddly enough, he was wearing his mask today, usually he only wore that for performances. He glanced over towards the door that connected the kitchen and the dining room. A red-haired woman was standing there, but at his look, she said, “Right, right,” and stepped aside. Immediately, JJ started dragging Marvin to the dining room.

“Hey! No! Drop it, Jems!” Marvin hit him weakly in the shoulder. “I don’ need to sit down.”

JJ just looked at him doubtfully.

Schneep felt this was a good moment to interject. “Ah, am I interrupting something?”

The two of them looked over at him. “Henrik! Tell him ‘m fine!” Marvin said.

“Sorry, I cannot do that,” Schneep said. “I would hate to lie to my friends.”

“Wha...?” Marvin groaned. “Alrigh’ fffffine, I’ll go...go sit at the table.” JJ looked relieved, and helped him over to the dining room, gesturing for Schneep to join them.

Nodding, Schneep retreated back into the hallway, circling around to the dining room. Jack, having heard most of that exchange, followed him.

Over in the dining room, Marvin had taken a seat at the table, leaning forward. He looked like he wanted to put his head down on the surface, but was barely resisting the urge. JJ was standing next to him, and the redheaded woman was standing off to the side. Upon seeing her, Schneep tried to retreat, again remembering that he was still wearing his super suit. Unfortunately, she caught sight of him before he could back out of the room. She gave him a friendly smile and waved.

“So...what is happening?” Schneep asked slowly.

JJ started to explain in sign language. I have rehearsal today. The first one since the...voice accident. So I really need to go. But Marvin got sick this morning and I didn’t want to leave him alone, because of how he is. But he’s insisting I go anyway and I didn’t need to call anyone to watch him, because he’s fine. A lot of the words were finger-spelled, slowing down the speech, but he was starting to get the hang of it. Nowadays he signed more frequently than he wrote.

“I see.” Schneep nodded wisely. A rehearsal, that would explain why JJ was wearing his mask. “And so you called these two to help?” He indicated Jack and the redheaded woman.

I called Jack, Jameson said, finger-spelling the name. Because Jackie’s at work, and Anti’s busy recording today, and I thought you were at work, too. I thought Jack could help, if it wasn’t a bother.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Jack said. “I was happy to come over and hang out. There’s just the bonus matter of making sure Marvin doesn’t kill himself.”

“I know what ‘m doin’,” Marvin grumbled.

You do, you just decide to cause problems on purpose, JJ rebutted.

“Okay,” Schneep said, mentally filing away the fact that Jack knew BSL. He turned to the redheaded woman. “And you are...?”

“I’m Aoife,” the woman said. “A friend of Jameson’s. He invited me to watch his rehearsal, since apparently he likes to have someone in the audience usually and Marvin wasn’t up for it. But I don’t know how to get to the theatre where he’s rehearsing, so I thought I’d stop by to ask Jameson if he could drive me. When I walked in, these two were faffing about.”

“No, Jems was faffing, I wasn’,” Marvin protested.

“Everyone is Irish,” Schneep muttered. “Dare I ask what that means?”

I understand it means ‘wasting time,’ basically, Jameson said.

“An’ you were def’nitely wasting time,” Marvin added. “Ye’ll be late at...at t’is rate.”

I’d be okay with that, as long as someone’s here to make sure you don’t do anything to tire yourself out.

“Stop worryin’ ‘bout me, you always...ye always worry ‘bout others. Be concerned with yourself, for once. Spreading too thin, stop.” Marvin’s words were starting to slur together.

“Well, ah, I was stopping by to ask if I could stay for a while,” Schneep asked. “So...I could stay and help out.”

Would you? Jameson asked.

“Of course.”

“Ye jus’ poppin’ in to check on us?” Marvin grinned a bit. “Real swell o’you.”

“That, and...ah...” Schneep awkwardly looked down at his costume. “I was out, and I didn’t—I-I wasn’t ready to go home yet. Not that there is any danger, I just...for me.” Even though he was sure Detective Kikelomo hadn’t followed him here, there was a lingering sense of paranoia that wouldn’t leave him alone.

It’s fine, Henrik, Jameson said. Jack, do you want to stay?

“If everyone’s fine with it,” Jack said cheerfully.

Marvin muttered something under his breath, finally laying his head down on the table. He appeared to have given up on getting JJ to not worry about him.

That would be so helpful, thank you both. JJ sighed. He shook Marvin’s shoulder, getting his attention. Call me if you need anything. And please, actually take the medicine this time?

“Sure, Jems,” Marvin said softly. “I promise. Now get out o’here.”

JJ nodded, and headed out, gesturing for Aoife to follow him. I’ll see all of you this afternoon. Five at the latest.

“Have fun, Jameson,” Schneep said. “Do lots of mag—oof!”

“Oh, sorry!” Aoife had bumped into him as she walked past to leave the room. She gave him a smile. “I didn’t mean it, I was trying to be quiet.”

“Is fine, do not worry,” Schneep assured her.

“Great. Oh, and if you find it, don’t get rid of it, will you?” Before Schneep could ask what she meant, she breezed past him and followed JJ out of the door.

Schneep was quiet for a moment, staring after her. Then he turned back to Jack and Marvin. “Do you two know what she meant?”

Marvin paused. “No, but I do know somet’ing. Aoife, she’s...she’s Jems’s magician friend. Works for whatever magic...place there is out there. For magicians. An’ she’s told him that she...her specialty is divination. So it’s probably important.”

Schneep blinked. “Divination? Like...seeing the future?” He couldn’t hide the skeptical tone in his voice.

“It’s not so weird,” Jack said. “Like, Sam gets feelings that they should go do something. That’s how they met all of you. I think that’s a form of divination, if just a minor bit of it.” Sam jumped in agreement.

“Well...alright.” Schneep decided to put that aside for now. “Ah, Marvin. Were you doing anything in particular that made Jems think he should call someone?”

Marvin hesitated. “I was tryin’ t’make tea,” he finally mumbled.

“Oh, tea. That sounds like a good idea,” Schneep said. “I will go make some, then.”

“...t’ank you.”

“No problem at all.” And Schneep headed back into the kitchen, determined to forget about the detective who was looking for him.

———————

The next few days passed uneventfully. Schneep would spend his nights scouting out locations, looking for a place that could fit the area the two criminals were referring to. They mentioned this arms deal going down a week from then, so he had that much time to narrow down where it could be taking place. He settled on three possible locations in the western part of the city that could fit, and decided to check each of them when the day came.

Said day arrived quickly, and it dawned rainy. That was annoying. And cold, because of course it was, it was practically winter by this point. His suit was insulated, but he still felt the chill. He could’ve just let it go, but he didn’t become a notorious vigilante by giving up. So he found himself running about in the rain for hours, tracking down the locations.

The first two were busts, no suspicious activity there. But as they say, the third time was the charm. Schneep arrived at an old electronics shop just as the sun was starting to go down on the dark rainy day. The sign out front said it was closed, but the lights were on inside. Not too unusual. Except for the fact that he’d suspected this place was some sort of front for a while.

Schneep waited in the shadows across the street, making sure the glowing parts of his costume were turned off, and watched the shop. He’d brought along a pair of binoculars for the scouting that day, and kept an eye on the front and side entrances. It was a few minutes before he caught sight of movement near the side. People. He couldn’t make out the details, but someone appeared in the front window to close the blinds. Maybe nothing. Or maybe...

It warranted further investigation. Schneep slipped the binoculars into a backpack, which he left tucked into a space in the wall caused by missing bricks, and hurried across the street to the shop. There weren’t many alternative entrances to this place. He’d checked. The closest thing was a window in the back, so he circled around the building to reach it. The window was high in the wall, but there were some trash cans in the nearby alley that he pulled over so he could reach it.

Carefully, he peered over the ledge through the window. It was a bit difficult to make out the room at first, since the glass was dirty on the inside and covered in rain on the outside, but he could see a group of people. Eight of them, separated into two groups of four. And wouldn’t you know it? He recognized two of them as the pair he’d overheard last week.

The window was the type that would slide open. So Schneep slid it open an inch, listening for voices over the sound of the rain.

“—just hurry up, neither of us want this to last forever,” one voice was saying.

“Okay, okay. Don’t get your pants in a twist.” There was the sound of cloth rustling. “See? It’s right here.”

“How do we know it’s all there? And real?”

“Well, how do we know you aren’t handing over some shoddy weapons? Or ones that’ll be tracked by the coppers?”

“Just shut up,” a different voice said. “If we keep goin’ this way, we’ll be at a standoff all night. Let’s just exchange goods at the same time, then check them over.”

“Right.”

“That sounds fine to me.”

Just by this snippet of conversation, Schneep figured out that there were two groups in this exchange, and they had some trust issues with each other. Great, that would mean he’d be fighting two groups of four instead of one unified group of eight. Hopefully, some of them would try to run or attack the other group when he jumped in. And speaking of which...this seemed like a good time. When the ‘goods’ were changing hands. Silently, he slid open the window. It opened wide enough for a person. So he grabbed the edge of the windowsill, braced himself, and just as someone inside was saying, “Hey, the window’s open—” he leapt through.

He landed in the center of the room, causing instant confusion and shouting. Quickly, he grabbed the nearest person and zapped them, instantly knocking them unconscious. There was a large crate on a wheeled dolly nearby, so he kicked that towards two others. One jumped out of the way but the other was surprised and easily got knocked over.

“This was a setup!” One of the criminals shouted, pulling out a knife. “You dirty bastards!”

“Don’t pin this on us!” Another yelled, pulling out a knife of her own.

So none of them had firearms. At least, that he could see. And he assumed that the crate had some inside, so that was a factor. He’d have to be—

One of the criminals came charging at him, swiping with a knife. Schneep dodged out of the way, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid the blade grazing across his upper arm. Luckily, it didn’t break through the suit. He grabbed the culprit’s arm with both hands and, with a fair amount of effort, threw them into another criminal who was also running towards him. He let out another burst of electricity from his gloves as he did so, rendering that one unconscious as well. Then he ducked close to the ground, scooping up the knife the criminal dropped in surprise when he threw him, and dodged to the side, avoiding the sudden rush of every other criminal trying to grab him at once.

So that was two down, one temporarily out of commission as he tried to wiggle out from under the body of his friend. The one he’d hit with the crate was standing up, trying to pry open the lid. “Oh no, don’t you dare,” Schneep growled, lunging over towards the crate and grabbing one edge of it. The criminal looked up at him, shocked, then tried to punch him. He ducked, and swung the knife he’d picked up. The criminal ducked in turn, but didn’t notice that Schneep had also lunged forward, other hand coming from the other side and knocking him unconscious with a single hit. Three down.

Two of the remaining ones were now fighting with each other—as he’d predicted—and grappling in the corner. The one who’d been knocked down was standing again, recovering her bearings, and the other two were running at him. Quickly, he decided on a priority: get the crate full of guns out of reach of any of these people before taking them out. So naturally, he pushed it forward again. The two running at him leaped out of the way, clearly not wanting the same thing to happen to them as happened to their friend. Schneep took advantage of their distraction and ran after the crate, grabbing the edge of the dolly and swinging it around so it was facing the room’s door. Then he pushed it out, running after it.

“Hey!” They were shouting after him, but he couldn’t slow down. The crate, being large and heavy, was swiftly gaining momentum as it rolled down the hall. He managed to turn it through the open doorway leading to the front of the shop, but once it was in there, all he could do was aim it for the front entrance.

The crate easily smashed through the double doors and rolled out onto the street, impacting the side of a car—wait, a car?!

A siren started up, and blue lights started to flash through the blinds of the front window. Schneep let out a string of curses under his breath. He could either turn back and try to leave through the window or the side entrance, facing a small group of criminals with knives, or go through the front door and try to avoid who-knows-how-many police officers, none of whom liked him.

He thought about it for a split second before turning and going back into the back of the shop. Luckily, the criminals were also taken by surprise, so he managed to slip by them and out through the side entrance before they could. He started to run, but then paused. He grabbed one of the trash cans that he hadn’t used to get through the back window and pulled it in front of the side door, barring it. Then he started to run, heading towards the opposite end of the alley.

But then a bright yellow light shone into the alleyway. Schneep glanced behind him just long enough to confirm his first thoughts: car headlights. And a voice shouted, “You there!” and he turned and ran. Hopefully the still-falling rain would make it easy for him to lose them.

“Wait! Don’t run again!” Footsteps splashed behind him, but he didn’t stop. He ran until he reached the other end of the alley and emerged onto the opposite street. This side was empty. He glanced left, then right, then turned left and kept running. The footsteps were keeping pace with him, but if he could just get to a ladder or something he could lose them on the rooftops.

One of the streetlamps overhead was out, leaving a patch of shadow on the sidewalk and road. He ran underneath it and looked back towards the person behind—

Slip.

Because of the rain, the broken streetlamp, and that backwards glance, he didn’t see the water pooling on the sidewalk, or notice the curb that marked the corner of the street. One misstep was all it took for him to fall hard onto the street, hitting his head, and everything flashed white before fading to black.

———————

The pain was the first thing Schneep noticed when regaining consciousness. The back of his head felt like his skull had split open. The second thing he noticed was that he was lying on...a seat of some kind. A sofa? Well, it was a hard and unusually small sofa if that was the case. He heard voices as well, or maybe just one, but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, so he ignored them and opened his eyes. Black spots danced in front of him, a shadowy face faded into his peripheral vision before fading away. Well, that was normal, so he ignored that, too. “Ja, piss off,” he muttered.

“Well, that’s a bit rude.”

That voice...sounded a bit more solid. And as he looked around his surroundings, it reinforced that first impression. He wasn’t lying on a sofa, but in the backseat of a car. Rain dotted the windows, and a light in the ceiling overhead lit up the scene in a yellow-white glow. He glanced towards the direction the voice had come from. And came face to face with Detective Kikelomo, sitting in the front seat of the car, looking around the back of the seat to stare at him.

His heart stopped. He realized he wasn’t wearing his mask anymore. Okay, time to disregard the slight murmurings that he could still hear, this was higher priority. After a moment of staring at her, frozen, he lurched into a sitting position and turned around to try and open the car door. That didn’t work, because first, it was locked, and second, the sudden motion sent a wave of nausea coursing through him. He groaned again, pressing his forehead to the car window and clenching his teeth.

“Be careful,” Kikelomo said. “You were out for a few minutes, and you might have a concussion. I was going to offer to drive you to the hospital after this.”

“Is fine,” Schneep said through gritted teeth. “I can take care of it.” Jackie would be waiting for him back at his apartment anyway. Though he didn’t like the idea of making him worried with a possible concussion, it was probably better to get his opinion first before taking it to a doctor who’d ask questions.

“Take care of it the way you took care of that puddle Rachel said you slipped in?” At this point, Schneep realized there was someone else in the car, in the front passenger seat. A woman, with blonde hair cut to chin-length. “Real nice for some superhero.”

“Shut...up.” Schneep squeezed his eyes shut. God, his head still hurt. But more importantly...“Am I being detained?”

“Well...” Kikelomo picked at the stitching on her leather seat, glanced over at the other woman, then looked back at Schneep. “No. Not exactly.”

That wasn’t what he was expecting. Schneep looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “What do you mean?”

“That wasn’t my plan at all,” Kikelomo said. “Though...I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t considering it. I was going back and forth, but then...well...that note convinced me.”

“Note?” Schneep asked, confused.

The other woman held up a folded piece of paper, a bit wet from the rain but not enough to lose its integrity. “This fell out of your...costume...when we were dragging you into the car. What’s this about, anyway?”

Schneep managed to sit up straight. “May I see that?”

The woman shrugged, and handed it over. He quickly unfolded it. There was a message written on it, in solid, straight handwriting. It read: To Rachel and Lydia. He means you no harm, and is no threat to you. I think you should let him go, because he’s currently dealing with something that your normal police can’t handle. It’d be better for everyone that way. Oh, and swing by that shop on Everett that you’ve been wanting to visit on Saturday :)

He read it a couple times, processing what it said. “I...have no idea what this is,” he finally admitted.

“Really?” Kikelomo said doubtfully.

“Really, I—” Schneep paused. “Oh.” Last week, when he’d gone to Marvin and JJ’s house. That magician friend of JJ’s, Aoife, had bumped into him. She said something weird about not getting rid of something ‘if he found it.’ This must be that something. “I understand now. It got slipped into one of my pockets, I did not even know it was there.”

Kikelomo still looked unsure. “Well...who put it there? And how did they know our first names?”

Schneep shrugged. “Someone who bumped into me. A stranger.” Not technically a lie, he wasn’t familiar with Aoife. But Marvin said she had divination magic. Had she...known this would happen?

“Alright, fine, let’s put that aside for now,” Kikelomo dismissed. “You’re not being detained, but I would like to ask you a few questions.”

“Only if you let me ask you some first,” Schneep insisted. “How did you find me? What are you planning to do? Who is this other person?”

“My name’s Lydia,” the other woman said casually. “I’m her fiancée.”

“Ah. Okay. Then what are you doing here?”

“Helping. This was all her idea, but I thought I’d join in. And good thing I did, someone needed to bring the car around when you knocked yourself the fuck out just a street over from a police raid.”

“That is fair,” Schneep relented.

“Let me start with your first question,” Kikelomo said. “I know you follow a lot of the illicit activity in the city. So, I kept my ears open for any cases going on that you might be interested in. We got a tip that there were some negotiations going on between the Striped Snakes and Monte Blanca, and I thought you might be interested in that. Apparently it was a well-known fact in the underworld. So I just followed along with the investigation.” She paused. “Technically, I’m not supposed to be here,” she admitted.

Schneep took a moment to process this. “So...you were investigating, out on your own, with the possibility of getting in trouble for it...on the chance that you would run into me.”

“...yes,” Kikelomo mumbled.

“Hey, trust me Mr. Voltage Guy, this is the first time she’s done something like this,” Lydia said. She sounded rather upbeat about that fact, almost proud.

“But I knew I had to!” Kikelomo protested. “After you snuck into the records at the police station, it took me a while to realize I’d seen you before. Actually, Rya was the one who remembered. You’re a friend of Dr. Parker, aren’t you?” Schneep hesitated, not willing to answer. But that was enough. “I thought it was strange that you risked going into the station, but once I figured out you were friends with him—he disappeared, didn’t he? And so did his daughter and her friend? It’s an unusual set of circumstances, and since you like to take the law into your own hands, I figured you were trying to do something about it. Aren’t you?”

Schneep rolled his eyes, then winced as that caused a few more black spots to dance before his eyes. He really should get his head looked at soon. “You say that about taking the law into my own hands, but are you not doing the same thing, following me, tagging along on a case that wasn’t yours? Hmm?”

“I...” Kikelomo paused. “This is for my case. It’s my job to find out what happened to your friend and those kids, and if you can help—”

“Well I can’t,” Schneep interrupted.

Kikelomo blinked. “Look...I understand that you...have an operation...here. And I will admit, it does actually help in some circumstances, even if you break a thousand laws on the way. But clearly, whoever is behind this has skill. Not only have they managed to stay hidden this long, but I believe they somehow manipulated your friend’s and the kids’ memories, which is no small feat. In this case, the resources of the police are more qualified to handle this.”

At that, Schneep couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Kikelomo watched, shifting awkwardly in her seat and giving Lydia a few unsure glances. “Maybe I should...rephrase what I said,” Schneep finally said. “You cannot help me. You are not qualified for this. Trust me, I am barely qualified for this. And, quite frankly, you do not want to be involved. I often disagree with the saying ‘ignorance is bliss,’ but I think it applies in this situation.”

Kikelomo was unsure how to respond. She glanced at Lydia, who just shrugged and said, “Remember that note? It said something about the normal police not being able to handle this.”

“Even so, I can’t imagine a situation where you don’t want more hands on deck. Unless this is somehow...I don’t know, if the government is involved or if it’ll cause a scandal. But still, I’d think I’d pick up if this was something like that.”

“No, you wouldn’t. The people who want stuff like that under wraps are very good at keeping it that way.”

“Still.” Kikelomo glanced back over at Schneep, who said nothing. He didn’t care what she thought about this situation, as long as she left it alone. “We could provide protection for your friend—”

“No, you cannot,” Schneep said firmly.

And Kikelomo fell silent again. Then she slowly turned around and started the car. “If we’re not taking you to the hospital, where are we going?”

“Drop me off on the corner of Underhill and Yew,” Schneep said, pulling his mask back on despite knowing it wouldn’t help anymore. “And please stop following me. You are just making me paranoid all the time.”

The car ride that followed was awkward and silent, but luckily, it was soon over, and Schneep stepped out of the car and onto a rainy street. He didn’t move until they were gone, and then he sighed. Well, that was bad. He didn’t want anyone knowing his identity, much less a detective and her girlfriend. But hopefully, they’d drop the matter, and he’d never run into them again.

———————

Unfortunately, those hopes were dashed two days later.

It was getting towards the end of his work shift, and Schneep was ready to leave. Not for any particular reason, he just didn’t have the energy. He’d considered taking the day off for medical purposes by calling in and telling his manager that he’d hit his head a couple days ago and had to stay home. Even if Jackie said that he’d be alright, that would still be reason enough. But he’d decided against it on the grounds that he’d already taken a few days off and risked losing his job if he did it again.

So here he was. Staring at the wall clock in the chance that it’ll go faster if he watched it. Then he heard the familiar sound of the front entrance opening and closing and Jennifer, his coworker, said, “Could you get that? I’m working on the order for the last guys.”

Sighing, he nodded, and headed out to the front counter. “Hello, welcome to Latte Lake, what can I—” Then he stopped. “You are fucking kidding me.”

The pair of customers who’d just walked in were none other than Detective Kikelomo and Lydia. Clearly off-duty, wearing casual street clothes and looking relaxed, but it was them nonetheless. And they looked just as surprised as he did. “Ohhh, that’s why the note said to come here,” Lydia muttered.

“The note—oh.” Schneep took a deep breath as he remembered the last line of the note Aoife had put in his suit. Something about the two of them going to a shop on Everett. The street where Latte Lake, the shop he worked at, was located. That should have rang a few bells when he read it, but there were a lot of shops on the street, and he’d had more pressing matters on his mind. “The next time I see that—that magician, I am going to kill her,” he muttered.

“Sounds like someone really wanted us to continue the conversation, if you ask me,” Kikelomo said, sounding a bit smug.

“Can we not do this now?” Schneep asked. “Do you know how much of a—how bad of an asshole you have to be to do something like this while someone is at work, and cannot leave? An awful one. No. Stop this.”

“Ah...well, sorry,” Kikelomo muttered. “But we didn’t come here intending to do that. We just wanted to check out the cute little cafe.” She paused. “Alright, this is the last thing I’ll say. Are you sure you don’t need our help? I mean, we’re professionals and you’re...well, you’re very good, but it’s different.”

Schneep rubbed his eyes. “Look. I do not say this because I hate you, or any of the pol—the people you work with. I say this because you literally cannot help. You cannot catch Dis—the person behind this. You cannot do anything to him. Anything you can think of will not work. We are...are just...surviving. Avoiding him. We are working on stopping him, but so far, we cannot. And you will not be any better at it. I promise you.”

Kikelomo thought about this. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“I—” Schneep choked. Even letting that slip was too much. “No. Don’t. I am asking you politely, stop talking about this. I can go in the back and just stay there, I am only talking to you out of courtesy. Just...stop. Give it up.”

Lydia nudged Kikelomo. “Hey Rachel? Maybe drop it for now.”

And Kikelomo sighed. “Alright. I’ll drop it for now. But this isn’t over, I can promise you that. I’m a detective. I will figure out what’s going on.”

“And when you do, you will see how right I am,” Schneep said stubbornly. “Now if you will excuse me.” He turned around and called out, “Jennifer? Are you okay with switching?”

“Yeah, sure, Henrik,” Jennifer replied, not noticing the way Schneep winced as she said his name out loud in front of the detective. Silently, he switched places with her, and things went back to normal as Kikelomo and Lydia placed orders, sat down to wait, and then eventually left the shop once their orders were ready.

His shift ended soon after that, and he practically ran out of the door and down towards the bus stop. As he waited for the bus to arrive, he wondered. Should he have told them the truth? It may have been unbelievable, with magicians and a man out of time and a strange gray smiling creature tormenting them all. But maybe he could have convinced them?

No. No, it was just too unbelievable. And he didn’t want to be judged for it, especially when the person doing the judging had the power to do something about it. His situation was just too precarious, being a vigilante in a city where that was illegal. He couldn’t risk a detective having a low opinion of him.

Still, he was sure that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d see Detective Kikelomo. If she was so determined to figure out what was going on...maybe she’d be able to find the truth. And when that happened, Schneep would be happy to accept whatever help she offered. But he wasn’t going to be the one making the first move. He simply couldn’t afford to.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #jacksepticeye au #septic egos au #dr schneeplestein #brigid writes fanfiction #septicswitchau

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thewindsofsong · 3 years

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Ok ok ok!!! So last night I had a dream that I rec’ed a dmbj/svsss crossover fanfic, but never actually read the fic. Then I woke up because my cat was yowling in the middle of the night.

After talking with @1ebilcat and @merinnan for a while, I managed to flesh out a basic outline of what that fic might look like. Please know that because this is a crossover with svsss, there is papapa mentioned. several times.... (nothing actually explict is described because that would make this not a not-fic)

So one day SQQ and SQH are messing around trying to figure out what this new “unique one of a kind treasure” does when SQH accideny drops some melon seeds on it or something and it suddenly activates.

Meanwhile in dmbj world, the Iron Triangle are pretty much retired from the whole tomb raiding business, but still run Wushanju (better now that wu xie actually concentrates on running it instead of running off every week). Someone comes in with a strange artifact that they found while clearing out a deceased relatives store room they want to sell. Wu xie buys it because he’s never seen anything like it before and wants to research it.

Xiaoge gets super weird vibes from the object, but it doesn’t seem overtly menacing, so he leaves wu xie be (if wu xie is preoccupied he gets in marginally less trouble). However, when xiaoge touches the object with wu xie and Pangzi nearby, it grows a point and gives xiaoge a paper cut. The blood touches the object and it activates.

One blinding flask of light and disorienting tumble latter, they find themselves at the foot of a picturesque mountain with a gate that labels them at the foot of cang qiong mountain. They’re quickly found by the cang qiong crew and everyone is super weird out by each other. Things happen and eventually LBH crashes in and says his shizun is missing mobei-jun is there too because SQH is also missing. More communication happens and everyone realizes this is the artifact’s fault. No one knows where the artifact is.

Meanwhile SQQ and SQH wake up someone completely unfamiliar to either of them. After using magic to light things up, they see that they are in a tomb absolutely covered in different depictions of penises: there’s pictures on the walls, statues of men with WAY TOO BIG penises, sooooo many dildos. Queue SQQ immediately launching himself at SQH with a shriek of outrage because “THERE’S NO WAY THIS ISN’T YOUR FAULT YOU SHITTY HACK AUTHOR!!”

Back with the iron triangle, there’s a research montage going on as they and other CQ sect member scour the libraries for any information about the mcguffin that caused all this randomness. At some point in all of this, iron triangle go to MQF to see if he can take a look at Xiaoge regarding his memory problems. After some more research, MQF learns about an herb that could stabilize his qi and stabilize the fluctuations that cause his amnesia.

Turns out that while proper cultivation doesn’t exist in dmbj world, the Zhang family line has managed to cultivate the family line to extended life but because they’re the only ones that can (maybe due to bronze gate?) it has a lot of dangers.

The herb needed is of course incredibly rare and only found in some horribly dangerous location. Xiaoge wants to go alone because he doesn’t want wu xie and pangzi to be in danger, but knows that they won’t be left behind. There’s some agnst had about how Xiaoge feels he’s brought pain and suffering to wu xie and pangzi, but of course neither of them are having any of it. The three of them talk about how they’ve never regretted meeting each other and how the adventures they’ve shared have brought meaning and joy into their lives.

The three of them cobble together some hotpot and spend the night before setting off soaking their feet side by side, content and secure in their bonds with each other. Its very sweet.

The next day, the three of them set off with LQG and LBH. Right before arriving at the location, bullshit happens and Iron Triangle get trapped in the location where the herb is located and trigger a wife plot in which papapa is the only way out. Iron triangle proceeds to have incredibly kinky marathon sex. LBH and LQG can only listen awkwardly from the boundary, not able to get through, but also not wanting to leave completely just in case something else happens. The sexual tension between LBG and LQG grows to new heights. Neither will do anything about it until SQQ is back home safe.

After the marathon is over and iron triangle has time to actually sleep, the three of them get cleaned up with the herb in tow and head back to Cang Qiong. They get the herb to MQF who tells them it will take at least a day to prepare the pill for xiaoge to take. That night, Iron triangle has sweet, tender, affirming sex because while they all agree that while xiaoge not losing his memories every few decades is for the better, it also means that he’ll have to carry the memories of wu xie and pangzi long after they’er gone, with no hope of them ever being together again. Xiaoge assures wu xie and pangzi that this is what he wants, to know that at least at some point, he loved and was loved, that he had a connection to this world and that his life has meaning beyond his obligations to the Zhang clan. Wu xie and pangzi make xiaoge promise to live on after they pass and to find him in their next lives.

Xiaoge takes the pill and the search for a way back home continues again in earnest. Eventually, LBH travels back to the demon realm and figures out how to track the artifact through space and time because his protag halo is too strong to keep him away from his love interest for too long.

Wu xie and pangzi learn some basic meditation techniques that disciples would learn when first arrive at the mountain. Its too late for them to cultivate to longevity and there’s no guarantee that its even possible in their home world to cultivate if you aren’t a Zhang. Regardless, wu xie and pangzi don’t want immortality, they just want to spend as much time as they can with xiaoge. Wu xie is gifted a flute made with special bamboo and pangzi is gifted a wine jug from Zui Xian Peak. Both have spiritual properties that may or may not be able to function when back home, but they’er good gifts given in good faith.

LBH, losing patience, forces iron triangle to get moving so he can save SQQ. He bursts through time and space and iron triangle plus LBH, MBJ, and LQG end up in dmbj world, in Wushanju. After scaring the crap out of Wang Meng, the group realizes that while several days have passed in svsss world, its only been a few hours since iron triangle was pulled away. Which is good because Ershu was likely to call in an army if wu xie went missing for no apparent reason. The whole thing would have been way too messy. Probably more than one person would have died.

What follows is a night of LBH, LQG, and MBJ attempting different divination spells to try and pin point the exact location of SQQ and SQH to varying degrees of success. None of them are good at divination. Regardless, the three of them manage to get a general location of where the two missing peak lords might be and the iron triangle gets to work searching the internet for any rumors or information of any tombs that might be in the area. (Its just wu xie and pangzi looking, but xiaoge standing around still in his beautiful borrowed robes from CQ is good moral support.)

They hear about some local legends about an ecentric noble from a bygone era that was buried in a very peculiar tomb. Potential tomb located, the whole group prepares to head out. the SVSS gang is convinced to not fly over immediately because that would be waaaaay to flashy and draw unwanted attention to them that would delay things even more. The six of them cram in together into the van and head off. Svss gang are forced into modern clothing and are def a little too big to comfortably sit in the van. LBH hits his head on a doorway at least once on this adventure. At lease two women and maybe a guy slip their numbers to him too. The man is supernaturally gorgeous.

After some more road trip shenanigans, they arrive at the rumored entrance to the tomb and head in. The tomb has a few traps here and there, but is practically child’s play for the iron triangle to get through. Svsss are appropriately impressed by their competence and LBH and LQG think specifically about how the iron triangle is a true threesome that supports each other and fights together. MBJ just wants his hamster boy back.

When they near the central chamber of the tomb, they hear the faint sounds of fighting which spurs SVSSS to speed ahead while iron triangle tries to get them to at least be a little cautious about setting off traps.

The sight that LBH sees when he breaks into the main chamber like the kool aid man is a disheveled SQQ beating SQH over the head with a baton? Kind of. Its a baton carved into the shape of a penis. SQQ immediately stops and tries to put on his “peerless immortal cultivator” mask on with a flick of his fan, but its hard for that to be effective when your hair is all over the place and your in a room covered in penises. SQH dives for his king’s thighs and cries in relief that he’s no longer trapped in a room full of dildos and penises with SQQ.

Then the iron triangle catches up and the realization that SVSSS gang is in modern clothing sinks in. The transmigrators freeze for just a second before jumping in front of iron triangle with a thousand questions. They ask in their shitty English which leaves answering the questions mostly to wu xie because pangzi’s english is pretty spotty and xiaoge doesn’t like talking in general, let alone a foreign language.

The whole group eventually leaves the tomb and all its phallic glory behind and get above ground where there’s phone service again. After a bit of searching, the transmigrators realize that while this world is very similar to their original world, there’s no signs of “Proud Immortal Demon Way” ever being written here, no other signs pointing to the two of them existing in this world. SVSS gang are very concerned as they watch SQQ and SQH talk in a strange language to these relative strangers, but don’t feel like its the time to figure out whats going on until everyone gets back home. The now expanded group makes their way back to Wushanju in an even more cramped road trip back. SQQ absolutly ends up in LBH’s lap at least once and SQH ends up with MBJ’s head in his lap at some point. its all very cute as the feeling of everyone being accounted for and safe settles in.

Maybe there’s some stuff about SQQ and SQH being transmigrators and them being tempted for all of half a second to stay in this world that is so very much like their original world but choosing to go back with their lovers and the lives they’ve made for themselves.

As the complete SVSSS gang now gets ready to head back home, the Iron triangle makes a huuuuge goody bag of all the snacks and treats that SQQ and SQH have been missing ever since they’ve transmigrated and put together a basic netbook plus solar charger for them to take back. There won’t be internet service back in SVSS world, but they loaded it up with a whooole bunch of web novels and pop songs, along with a few spare parts.

SVSSS gang finally makes their way home after having a large farewell dinner at Wushanju at Pangzi’s insistence and LBH bullies his way into helping out. Its a very sweet scene of laughing and drinking. After dinner is done, SVSSS decide to go back immediately because the time dilation thing would mean they would be away for longer than they would like.

Once back home, LBH, SQQ, and LQG have a confrontation/conversation about their relationships with each other and figure out if they want to try being all together, all three of them. MBJ confines SQH to his northern palace. Specifically their bedroom. He was also the one that remembered to grab the artifact that caused all these problems to begin with while everyone else was distracted by dildo tomb.

Iron triangle goes back to their retirement, at peace with the decisions they’ve made and the lives they’ve chosen to live.

THE END!!!

#dmbj #svsss #the lost tomb reboot #iron triangle #wu xie #wang pangzi #zhang qiling #shen qingqiu #lou binghe #if you cant tell i like polyships a lot #i just want everyone to be happy together #i made myself sad writing part of this #oh god this is so much longer than i thought it would be #feel like this is a little light on the svsss side of things #but the current fixation is dmbj so its not that surprising #this is 2000 words of not-fic #my writing

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k-k-keroppi · 3 years

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A wedding goes wrong right

I was thinking about that video where henry shields talks about what’s planned for season two, and he mentioned we see more personal bits of the characters, and I thought how cool would it be if max and sandra got married and then almost immediately thought Goes Wrong Wedding!! so I wrote it :) I’m not the greatest fic writer but whatever. Sorry for the cheesy ending and also (spoiler not spoiler) the reason is because he can’t remember what room he’s in, but I couldn’t work that in. enjoy.

“Are you nervous?” Annie and Ness sat in the room dressed in beautiful blue dresses, smiling as their friend adjusted her veil. “I think so.” “You think so?” Annie asked, and Sandra looked round at them. “I just feel bubbly, it’s a lot.” Ness got up from the cream sofa and perched next to Sandra, looking at her in the mirror. “Oh, of course it’s a lot, but it’s a good thing!” Annie joined them on Sandra’s other side, putting a careful hand on her shoulder. “Yeah, soon you’ll be Mrs Bennett, and all this stress will be worth it.” Sandra smiled. “Oh, I know. I can’t believe I’m marrying Max.” She turned to look at them both. “And thank you, for being the most wonderful bridesmaids.” The women embraced, and as they separated Sandra dabbed at her eyes carefully. “Oh I can’t ruin my makeup.” she said, and Annie handed her a tissue. “I wouldn’t worry.” she said. “You could go down the isle in full zombie FX and Max wouldn’t care.” Sandra smiled, and looked round as someone knocked at the door. “Who is it?” Two women’s voices replied. “Only us!” “Oh it’s mum and auntie Diana.” Sandra jumped up and opened the door to a flurry of kisses. “Hi mum, hi auntie.” “Hello darling, oh you look beautiful.” “Thank you mum.” Diane and her sister sat down, and the women talked and drank champagne, and prepared for the big event.

“Chris, can you do my bow tie?” “Of course Max.” The men stood facing each other, surrounded by Dennis, who was perched on the bed, and Trevor, who was sat uncomfortably on a footstool. Robert was at the little table, working on something on a laptop. “Not long left. How’re you feeling? There.” Max admired his bowtie in the mirror. “I’m doing okay actually. I thought I’d be more nervous.” “You’ll probably be nervous just as walk out, and forget all your vows and things.” Everyone but Robert turned to look at Dennis, and he shrugged helpfully. “It’s what always happens to me.” Max looked in the mirror and straightened his tie again, grinning. “Max, mate,” said Trevor, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Do we all have to be dressed so formal? Only-” “Trevor, we’ve talked about this.” said Chris sharply. ““Your jeans are not appropriate for the wedding.” “Well it’s Max’s wedding Chris, not yours.” Max shook his head. “Sorry Trevor, I want everything to be perfect, for Sandra.” Chris noted the worry that crossed Max’s face. “Max, Sandra will be happy no matter what, so long as she’s marrying you. That’s all that matters, the-” “Ah ha!” Chris glared over his shoulder. “Robert, I was talking.” Robert waved his hand. “Doesn’t matter. I finally finished it, I am officially ordained.” Dennis gasped inaudibly. “Your honor.” “No Dennis, it doesn’t work like that. And what do you men you’re ordained, I’m officiating, Max asked me weeks ago.” “Oh well, since I’ve gone to the trouble of filling out the form-” “The same form I already filled out! You aren’t-” “Guys!” shouted Max, a little louder than he intended, and everyone turned to look at him. “I wanted you both to do it, cause I look up to you both so much. I just didn’t want it to turn into a competition.” Chris and Robert looked a little ashamed. “We’re sorry Max.” said Chris. “We’ll do our best.” Max smiled again, then looked around. “Where’s Jon?” “Oh I’m sure he’ll be back in a moment, he only went to the loo.” said Robert. “And to get me some fags.” Chris glared at Trevor. “I’m not gonna smoke them in the ceremony.” he said defensively. “He’s probably chatting up a bridesmaid.” supplied Dennis. “What, Annie and Ness?” asked Max, and Dennis looked confused. “What about Sandra’s sisters?” “She doesn’t have any sisters.” said Robert, and Dennis’ frown deepened. “Well wherever he is, I’m sure he’ll turn up.” reassured Chris, ending the discussion. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Okay, how’re we doing?” asked Annie, slipping back into her old stage manager role. “Flowers are fixed, but I’m still having trouble with this confetti canon.” said Trevor, thumping the offending instrument with the heel of his hand. “I think I’m gonna have to take it apart.” Fine, just don’t let Sandra see.” Trevor carried the tube away, and Sandra walked in, on the phone. “Oh I hope she gets better soon, of course I understand. See you soon.” She turned to Annie. “My niece is sick, she can’t be the flower girl!” Annie snapped her fingers. “Don’t worry, I’ve got an idea.” “Thank you.” sighed Sandra in relief, holding Annie’s hand gratefully. “Oh, Max, you’d better go.” she said, and Sandra dashed away, holding her skirt carefully off the ground. “Anything I can do to help Annie?” asked Chris, appearing behind her. “Yes actually, the cake’s being delivered in a minute, could you go and look after it? I don’t trust Nancy.” “Of course.” Chris left in the direction of the car park. “Oh, Chris!” she called after him, and he turned around. “You haven’t seen Jon, have you?” Chris shook his head and left the hall, leaving Annie to talk to Max. “How’re you doing, okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine. You seen Sandra?” “You can’t see her, it’s bad luck!” “Oh yeah.” Max fiddled nervously with his cufflinks, and Annie looked at him pityingly. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to sit down for a moment?” Max nodded, and Annie put an arm round him. “Dennis!” she called as he crossed the hall. “Could you do me a favour and and queue up the bridal music on the laptop, it’s the first one on there.” she said, pointing to a computer in the corner. Dennis gave a thumbs up. “Oh, and I need another favour-”

“Oh my god.” said Ness, looking at the cake. “What happened?” “I know.” said Chris. “He said there were roadworks on the main route, so he had to take a residential road and there were speed bumps. It doesn’t look good, does it. Still, the wedding planner said that pillar should hold until they cut it.” “Annie doesn’t trust that Nancy.” said Ness darkly. “I’ve heard.” Chris looked at Ness. “You haven’t seen Jon, have you?” Ness looked surprised. “I thought he was with you?” “No, he’s just vanished. No-one seems to know.” “I’m sure he’s fine.” said Ness. “I’m just off to the loo.” she said, and trotted away, in her heels with one last grimace at the cake. Chris wandered back into the hall. “What?” he murmured as he passed a supply cupboard, listening to the muffled thumps from inside. Opening the door, he looked in confusion at Annie and Trevor, wedged amongst the buckets and brooms, Annie holding the confetti canon against her chest, Trevor attempting to ram a large spring into it. They both froze and looked at him. “Alright Chris.” said Trevor, and Chris just shut the door and left them to it. “Ah, Chris,” said Robert, approaching with a stack of cue cards in him hand. “Which bits of the ceremony do you want to do? I’m personally very keen on ‘If anyone here today has any reason that these two should not be joined, under God, then please-’” “Well, I think we should just take in turns.” interrupted Chris deliberately. “I’ll speak, then you speak, and we’ll just go like that.” “Yes, that sounds sensible. Me then you then me then you, and so on.” Chris looked at his tersely. “Yes, me then you.” “Me then you, that’s right.” They glared at each other politely until Dennis interrupted. “Chris, Chris.” “What is it Dennis?” Dennis looked stricken. “Annie wanted me to queue up the music, but I don’t know which track it is.” “Well what did she say?” “She said the first one, but there are two..” “Well it’ll be the top one Dennis, the very first one.” Dennis nodded and ran back to the computer. “We should get ready then.” “Mm.” Chris and Robert made their way to the front o the hall, Annie and Trevor tumbled out of the cupboard, and Max met Chris and Robert at the lectern. “In they come.” said Chris, pointing to the guests filing. Max straightened his tie. “Okay.” “Good luck.” said Robert, putting his hand on his shoulder.

Max stood smartly at the front of the hall, looking expectantly down the isle. The large doors opened, and Dennis skipped awkwardly down the isle, tossing flowers from a tiny wicker basket. Once he reached Max he solemnly handed him the basket, which Chris took and hastily threw behind him. Hesitantly, as though waiting for someone to tell him not to, Dennis made his way to the computer. Everyone turned their gaze back to the door, and Sandra and her father crossed the threshold as everyone rose. Dennis hastily pressed a button on the computer, and the speakers crackled to life. “No, I’m just saying, I’m just saying-” came Robert’s slurred voice over the speakers, and Robert froze. “No-one wants to hear about Denise, Robert, it’s Max’s stag do.” came Chris’ reply, and Robert mimed cutting his throat. Dennis pressed another button, and the audio sped ahead. “I just love her so much.” Max’s voice was teary, and he glared at Dennis with panicked eyes. Sandra and her dad stood a quarter way down the isle, looking around in confusion. “I know mate.” Trevor’s voice was wobbly over the speakers. “Dennis, why are you recording?” “Oh, am I recording?” Annie rushed over and hit another button, and the recording was replaced by Vivaldi. She hurried back and took her position behind Sandra, and the party continued down the isle. Sandra’s dad handed Sandra over to Max, and took his seat, smiling. “Ladies and gentlemen-” began Chris and Robert together. “Ladie- Ladies an-”. Chris sighed. “Robert.” he said, waving him on. Robert nodded grandly. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the...” Robert trailed off in apprehension, and everyone followed his gaze to the back corner, where Jonathon was trying to prize the window open. Ness put her hand on Annie’s arm and snuck round the outside of the room to the window. Robert continued. “To celebrate the union of Sandra Wilkinson and Max Bennett. I believe you’ve prepared-” “The safety catch is stuck, you’ll just have to squeeze through.” “Vows! I believe you’ve prepared vows.” “Yes.” Sandra turned to Max. “Max, I’m so happy to be marrying you.” Jon grunted from the window. “I think you’ll have to speak up.” advised Chris quietly, and Sandra nodded. The vows were said loudly, over the sounds of Ness pulling Jon through a gap in the window, and by the end there was barely a dry eye in the room. “That was lovely.” said Robert. “Now, do you Sandra, take Max to be your lawfully wedded husband?” “I do.” “Good. And do you Max, take Sandra to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I do.” “Excellent. So unless anyone has a reason that they should not be married...” The room was quiet, save for Jon and Ness straining at the window. “Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” As Max and Sandra embraced, Robert turned to Chris. “Thank you for letting me have it Chris. It means a lot.” “I know. You did it very well actually. Maybe I should find a reason to cast you as a vicar?” “Or let me direct-” “Or cast you as a vicar.” “Ah!” With a panicked shout, Jon finally fell through the window and collapsed on top of Ness. They hastily stood up and applauded their friends with wide smiles on their faces. Trevor readied the confetti canon, and as Max and Sandra turned to walk down the isle he switched, intending to shower the couple in tiny paper hearts. As he turned it on, the spring launched out and flew across the room. Sandra shrieked, and the spring struck Jon squarely in the chest, sending him stumbling back against the window. Under his weight, the safety catch released, and the window swung wide open, and Jon toppled out onto the gravel. This his weight gone, the window swung shut again, clicking into place just as Jon struggled upright. He looked forlornly through the glass. Ness stepped forward to re-open the window, and as the safety catch re-engaged Jon just sighed despairingly. Max and Sandra carried on, at Ness’s insistence, and the room followed them into the other room.

They all sat at their correct tables, Max and Sandra at the front, and as Ness and Jon crept in and took their seat Chris stood up. “Before all the main speeches start, I’d just like to say a little something.” he said. “Max and Sandra, it’s been a privilege to know and work with both of you. I remember your first kiss, on the set of Peter Pan, and your proposal in a Christmas Carol. It’s nice to know that, despite the disasters, and the lawsuits, and the many, many hospitalizations, that at least one good thing has come from Cornley. I wish you both a long a happy life.” “Thank you Chris.” smiled Sandra. The rest of the speeches were equally sweet, both families wanting to wish the pair well. Robert’s speech was a little odd, but the sentiment was sweet, and it was appreciated. By the end, the atmosphere was very warm, and it continued all through dinner. Once the plates were cleared away, everyone was talking good naturedly amongst themselves. “Oh, we need to do the cake!” said Max, and they got up. Everyone followed them to the little round table, and Chris and Ness shared a worried look. “Oh.” Sandra looked at the cake, that was leaning dangerously. “Well, it’ll still taste just as good.. And it’s the symbolism more than anything, isn’t it, the two of us working together, becoming a team...” As Sandra spoke, the cake slid slowly off the bottom layer. “Ah!” Max leant forward and caught the cake, squishing icing on his forearms. “I’ve got the cake.” he said, a little confused as to what to do with it. Sandra took the fork from the table and scooped a bit of cake from the pile in Max’s hands. She fed it to Max, and took a bit herself, smiling. “Mm, you were right.” she said, as Chris helped Max scoop the cake onto a plate. “This one is nicer.” Max grinned. “Okay,” he said, turning to everyone else. “I need to get cleaned up, and you you need to do... things.. So I’ll see you at the reception!”

The reception was equal parts glamourous and exciting. The sophisticated decorations glittered under the bright party lights, and everyone had a wonderful time. The first dance was beautiful, and went off without a hitch. There was a little incident later with 5 6 7 8, when Trevor and Chris collided quite violently, and later in the evening when the karaoke started things began to get interesting. Annie and Trevor sang a fairly drunk rendition of Back in Black, Robert sang a very drunk version of Feel like a woman, and Dennis sang The holly and the ivy, which confused everyone. Sandra and Max joined in with Summer loving, prompting everyone else to sing too. When everyone finally left to sleep, everyone was drunk and happy. “Come on Mrs Bennett.” said Max, and he lifted Sandra in his arms. “Come on Mr Wilkinson- oh!” she giggled. “That’s not how that goes” Max carried up the stairs to their room, stepping over Dennis who was curled in the corner, and they made their way to married life.

#cornley polytechnic drama society #cornley #mischief theatre #the goes wrong show #the play that goes wrong #peter pan goes wrong #chris bean #robert groves #max bennett #sandra wilkinson #mischief movie night #fanfic

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anotherhumanpet · 3 years

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HOW I RUN MY BLOG

TAGGED BY: No one; I'm yoinking this from another blog I ran TAGGING: @rodanish, @convenientkeystorage, @monster-or-man, @yggdrasilushxrt, @codenamesilas, @ask-human-ratchet

— SPEED.

It can vary but right now I feel confident enough to say it takes me no more than a few days to make a reply, then maybe another 1 to 3 days for it to be posted out of the queue system (depending on how many posts are logged). Things happen though and moods change. I'm coming out of a year-ish hiatus and trying to get back into the swing of things while also juggling my other hobbies and general life. I could wind up becoming a little slower, but as long as everyone (including myself) can be patient with things then it should be fine.

— REPLIES.

I'm not a novelist, I can't describe a scene or view to save my life, and I don't know how to write action without hating every second of it and-or myself because an old partner use to constantly tell me that my action writing was bad and the improvements I tried to make were never good enough. I haven't spoken to that person in ten years but their words still haunt me to the point I dread action scenes. So, since the ability to write scenes and things of substance is out of my roster, I tend to focus more on a character's thoughts and emotions. I'll take you through the entire thought process of my characters so you can (hopefully) understand why they're ticking the way they are.

But I'm willing to step out of my comfort zone too, both for the sake of improvement of my skills and to create a better story. I make no promises on my efforts being any good, but god damn it I will try.

— STARTERS.

I prefer plotted starters to just random, run-of-the-mill, first-greet starters simply because a plot gives me a guideline of what's going on, what's to be expected, and what kind of playing room I've got. If there's too much from for interpretation and creativity I tend to get... stuck on what to do and wind up leaning on being more reactive with my responses than proactive.

Starters don't have to be heavily plotted for me to be able to operate though! Hell, @monster-or-man and I made a whole ass thread with the premise of "Achim and Dennis need to meet and fight because we want to make Silas sweat a little more than he already is." and have another one in the works between Jaden and Bruce that is essentially "Jaden wants to Talk™." So, in shorter words, I like having ideas to play with but they don't have to be elaborate schemes.

— INBOX.

Don't be shy. Ever. I love answering asks - be they random or silly little questions, thought provoking questions, probes at the characters and their relationships, or even a magic anon.

— SELECTIVITY.

To be honest, even though I have the "mutuals only" tag on this blog I'm still trying to figure out how I want to do things post-hiatus. I don't think I'll be returning to my other blogs anytime soon, which frees up creativity and time for this one, so I could perhaps drop the tag and be a little more open. But, at the same time, I don't want to dive in too deep and wind up getting overwhelmed and stressed.

I don't think I'm horribly selective though. I may have my personal credentials (which I won't go into) but generally I'm just looking for good characterization, good writing, and compatible rules.

— WISHLIST.

Honestly, I just want to throw Dennis into anything and everything. Since coming back to the blog and reminiscing on some old threads, I'm realizing that the moments where I was having the most fun with this kid are the moments when he was deep in some mystery or adventure - or trouble! This kid was built to get involved in shit, good or bad, and that's what I want to do with him.

— HONEST NOTE.

🎶Oh girls just wanna have fun🎵

No, seriously. At the end of the day, everything I roleplay is done for fun. I can be serious, I can tell a complex story with conflict and resolution, but ultimately I am here to do things I think are fun and I want to do them with other people because I want to have fun with them. If things keep turning up Super Serious and there's no room to wiggle around and fun then I'm out. I know everything Dennis winds up doing is bad for him and others in some way but if he didn't do anything then there'd be nothing to do. Now let me write in peace.

#dashboard meme

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divinerulerluvr · 4 years

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Michael Langdon smut blurb (sneak peak of my unrealease wattpad book ‘love or lust’)

warning: 18+, langauge, kinky, degrading words, vulgar language

Knocking on the thick door softly, i wait for any response before entering his room.

"Come in," Michael calls from the other side of the door. Shyly, i walk into his room. A large, kings sized bed with fancy red silk sheets lays in the dead center of his room. A large fireplace is pushed off into the corner and there are two arm chairs facing it

I was still in shock that i had actually made it into the sanctuary. Considering how he acted towards me. He was cold, distant, acting as if i was a fancy and expensive china plate that could break any moment.

He sits at the small desk by the door, typing quickly on his Mac Book. My eyes drop to his nimble fingers that type the words skillfully. His fingers adorned with rings that i can imagine on my skin already.

Michael glances up at me, an amused smile on his lips as he notices my staring at his hands. "Yes, Miss Roslyn?" he asks, his voice velvety and seductive unlike how he spoke to me at Outpost 3.

"I- uh, Sorry, Mr. Langdon but i-"

"Michael. No need for formalities when we'll be spending quite some time together," he smiles sweetly as he stands, approaching me slowly as his pale blue eyes stay locked on mine.

"Oh... well, Michael, i was called into here. I was told you needed to see me for something," i manage to say in a semi-steady voice, masking how insanely nervous i feel. He nods slowly, a sinister smirk on his lips as he stops in front of me, his breath fanning my neck as he circles me.

"Ah, yes. I heard about your... rendezvous. Sneaking into the parts of the Sanctuary that are kept off limits to our survivors, no?" he says coolly, his voice as smooth as silk. I swallow thickly before nodding slowly, keeping my eyes straight ahead as his hand ghosts my shoulder, his oddly warm fingers giving me goosebumps.

He tsks under his breath softly. He rounds back to my front, his eyes returning to mine. The intensity of his stare making my skin flush. I'm in trouble. "And what should we do about that, hm?" he asks, his lowly, clearly trying to get a rise out of me.

I hesitantly keep my eyes trained on his, feeling myself grow weak in the knees. He reaches his hand up and caresses my cheek gently. "I'd usually punish the rule breakers by torture or... just flat out kicking them out but... i have a sweet spot for you, Miss Roslyn," he states, keeping those beautiful blue eyes on mine the entire time.

"I'm sorry Mr. L- i mean, Michael. I heard weird noises and i got curious i-" i was quickly cut off from my stammering by a strong grip around my neck. He squeezes the sides instead of pushing pressure down on to my airways. He wasn't trying to kill me at all.

I let out a small whimper at the sudden movement. And Michael doesn't miss it. A sadistic grin spreading across his face becomes prominent as his grip tightens on my neck.

"Maybe i should just.... Use you for my own pleasure. Make your body mine since i do believe you are one of the only people who hasn't sold their soul to my father," he growls lowly in my ear, his cinnamon scented breath fanning my face gently, making me bite my lip to hide my whimper.

He watches me with that same sinister smirk. He doesn't speak, he just watches me as i look up at him with wide, needy eyes. "Such a needy little slut" he growls, releasing his grip on my throat and throwing me back against the bed.

I land near the middle of the bed, scurrying up to from my laying position to look at him. A part of me is screaming 'Get out! He's going to kill you!' and the other is telling me 'He's gonna give you a hell of a time'.

He stands menacingly over my helpless body as i look up at him. Literally. He's so goddamn tall. "I need to know that you are willing and want to do whatever i so please. So, Roslyn, i need you to tell me that you are okay with this," he says in a less intimidating voice than before, making me nervously search for words.

“Yes. I'm willing and i want to do whatever you so please," i choke out my words. A smug, satisfied grin breaks out on Michael's face. It soon fades into a malice smirk as his eyes rake my body.

"Take off your dress," he demands. I quickly do as told. Unzipping my dress and shrugging it off quickly. His eyes fall to my now exposed chest, analyzing my full breasts carefully before speaking again.

"Lay back and let me see that pretty pussy," he orders. I slowly lean back and slide my cotton panties over my hips and down my legs. I hear a satisfied hum come from Michael as his shoes tap the hardwood floor as he approaches me.

He runs a warm hand up my inner thigh lightly, using minimal pressure to spread my legs wide. He runs his fingers up my inner thigh even higher, his middle finger running down my slit to feel my wetness.

"So eager for me, aren't you?" he muses and i can hear the satisfaction very evident in his voice. he stays silent and i keep my eyes up on the ceiling above me to distract my mind from how he's just examining and analyzing my exposed body.

I soon feel light kisses feather up my inner thighs. His long hair tickles me, making me shudder softly. His kisses grow higher and higher until he's running his tongue up my slit lightly. I squirm in my place, wanting so, so much more from him. "Tastes so, so good," he purrs softly.

His tongue circles my clit at an agonizingly slow pace. My breathing is heavy as i grip at his silk sheets. "Michael..." i whimper out, my voice weak and pathetic. Michael exhales slowly against my wet pussy, causing me to shiver even more.

The pace at which his tongue moves speeds up ever so slightly as he applies some more pressure to my aching clit. I bring my hand to my mouth, biting the back of it hard enough i'm sure it'll bruise tomorrow.

My eyes watch his as he slowly sucks at my clit. His eyes flicker up to mine, making me so much wetter when i see his pale blue eyes shimmer in the dark candle lit room we're in. "Don't muffle your moans, princess. Nobody will hear," he says lowly, the vibrations from his words jolting up my core and make my skin erupt into even more goosebumps.

I bring my hand away from my mouth, letting small moans escape as he starts a normal pace of licking me. My hands go back to gripping the sheets for dear life, my naked chest heaving as i moan breathlessly.

I feel him slip one finger into me slowly, testing how tight i was. His eyes glance back up to mine as he removes his mouth from my clit, making me whimper. "Are you a virgin?" he asks seductively, tilting his head to the side as the finger that is inside me begins to pump in and out.

All i manage to do is nod, my teeth clamped down on my lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He smiles smugly, licking his lips slowly. "Good girl. Nice and untouched for me," he praises before his mouth returns to my clit with even more pressure, making me moan a little louder than i was.

His one finger continues to pump slowly before he adds in a second, making me wince. His fingers start in a pumping motion, but soon he's going in a scissoring motion, stretching me out even more.

I arch my back, wanting him to either go faster or deeper. I feel his lips curl into a smile as his mouth works at my clit, making me feel euphoric.

Michael Langdon would be the one to take my virginity.

His fingers speed up, switching between a pumping motion and a scissoring motion. My moans increase as his speed does. I squirm in place as my hands grip at the sheets as hard as i can. "Michael that feels so good," i manage to pant out, overwhelmed with pleasure.

Soon, he adds a third finger, making me cry out. I feel his lips curl into a smile once more as his teeth graze gently over my lit. I pant out indeterminable curses as i feel the knot in my stomach tighten tightly. My walls clench around Michael's three fingers, signalling my climax is near.

As if on queue, his pace increases and his fingers begin to curl in me, probing my g-spot wonderfully. "Fuck!" i call out as my vision blurs over and i throw my head back, my orgasm making my walls clench and my back arch. My hips buck slightly, wanting him deeper.

My moans are loud and occasionally i'd moan out his name as well. Once i'm completely down from the orgasm that Michael kept prolonging by continuing his curling motion, he stands back up, a satisfied hum leaving his lips as he looks at how disheveled i am. My face red and beads of sweat forming on my forehead.

"Keep acting like a goddamn slut and i'll fuck you like one. Bad girls get no mercy," he growls, his voice menacing. I just bite my lip as i watch his eyes scan my body. His degrading words make something in my body ache for him to rail me so hard i can't walk for days after.

I lay helplessly watching him as he undoes his shirt, throwing it off to the side. My eyes fall to his toned chest as he undoes his dress pants. He lets them fall to his feet before stepping out of them.

His eyes land back on mine as he hovers above me, his lips grazing mine. I move up to meet his lips halfway but i get pushed down aggressively by my neck with an invisible force as both his hands are on either side of my body.

His lips continue to ghost mine, his eyes heavy on mine. "Beg," he whispers. I look up at him with confusion. The invisible force on my neck grows tighter as a warning. "I said fucking beg or else," he growls, his lips still just barely touching mine.

"Please Michael... fuck me like there's no tomorrow. It's all i want," i whimper pathetically. He lowers himself even more, his bulge rubbing against my thigh. All i can't think about is how big he feels.

"Your pathetic," he scoffs rudely. I just bite my lip in anticipation as he hovers above me. He straightens back up, using his hands to pull off his boxers as the invisible force stays snug on my neck, keeping me pinned down.

My eyes fall to his hard dick and good fucking lord was i right. I don't even think i'll be able to take it considering i'm a virgin and all. I move my hands to touch him anywhere i could but my hands fly back, being pinned to the bed by an invisible force along with my neck.

The grip is tight on my wrists, keeping me helpless and submissive to him. He hovers back over me, his lips ghosting mine once he lines up with my entrance. "No touching," he whispers harshly before railing his dick into me.

"Ah fuck!" i yell out, throwing my head back from how mercilessly he thrusted into me. My hands ball into fists, drawing blood that slithers down my palm and onto the already red sheets. The pain is almost unbearable, but i love it in that sick and twisted way.

"Such a slut," he scoffs as he starts to thrust in and out of me. The pain sending shock waves through my body. "Do you think you've earned my dick?" he asks, his lips moving to my ear, biting at my earlobe.

"Fucking answer me," he growls after i remained silent. His thrust grow harder and deeper if that was even possible. it sounds so dramatic but i swear my organs are being rearranged.

"Yes i do," i stammer out, tears pooling quickly in my eyes from the pain that i fucking love. He smiles devilishly, his breathing rigid from how roughly he's fucking me.

"Oh really?" he asks darkly, his lips moving to attach to my neck. He bites and sucks at the skin there as i cry out in pain that soon subsides into an astronomical level of pleasure. i can feel him starting to sweat as his hips thrust in and out of me roughly, ramming into my g-spot over and over.

I try to move my hands but whenever i try, the invisible grip tightens by ten times, making me wince softly. "You'll learn it's better to comply to my helpers, princess," he whispers lowly into my neck. The feeling of his lips moving against my neck making me moan louder.

I whimper softly in response to his words, unable to form coherent sentences. He straightens back out, standing up as he continues to rail into me with insane force. He flings my right leg over his shoulder, one of his hands caressing my inner leg softly as he watches me cry out from the pleasure.

"So fucking hot when you're getting your virgin pussy fucked," he pants evilly, making me whimper from the effect his words are having on me. His free hand moves to my bouncing tits, squeezing the left one firmly. My mouth opens in a silent scream as my eyes flutter shut.

"Did i say you close your fucking eyes?" he snaps suddenly, making me open my eyes and meet his yet again. "Such a goddamn brat, aren't you? You live off of defying people. It even makes you wet," he says with malice in his words.

I nod eagerly, agreeing with his statement. He smiles smugly down at me as i cry out again, my walls contracting tightly around his length. He hisses sharply from my movement. His eyes screw shut and his mouth falls open

My walls compulsively contract around him as i thrash as much as i could. I moan out loudly as my second orgasm plows into me like an avalanche. "God-fucking-dammit, Michael!" i yell out as i release around his huge cock.

My ears begin to ring and all i can hear is him order me onto my knees. I comply, moving swiftly to my knees as he rubs himself so he can finish in my mouth. His warm cum shoots into my mouth perfectly. His hand quickly moves, grabbing my jaw and holding it so i can't swallow it properly.

"So pretty with my cum in your little mouth," he compliments, his free hand brushing my hair off of my sweaty forehead. I keep my grey eyes on his crystal blue ones as he smirks down at me with satisfaction evident on his face.

He snaps his hand back abruptly, making me jump a little. "Swallow," he instructs. i do as told, swallowing his cum quickly. His smile softens just a tad as he helps me into his bed, pulling the covers over my weak and tired body.

he gets into bed next to me, wrapping me up in his arms.

"Goodnight, Roslyn,"

33 notes · View notes

neuro-whump · 4 years

Text

Lost in Transit, Part 5

This is my entry to the Box Boy Extended Universe which was originally created by sweetwhumpandhellacomf and written by shameless-whumper and I’m using a lot of world-building which was done by @ashintheairlikesnow. Still somewhat vague on hospital procedure here and also despite my research, I may be misrepresenting acquired dyscalculia here, pubmed is not helping me out and neither is google scholar.

CN: Dehumanization, human trafficking, amnesia, mistaken identity, box boy universe, IVs, panic attack, hospitals

798591 was woken with a start the next morning by a dream he didn’t remember and didn’t know where he was.

He was lying in a bed, in a small white room with an IV in his arm, and his heart was fluttering with nerves and he felt sore and battered and didn’t know why. There was something about the room. Something he’d remembered — but he didn’t remember it now.

He was in his new home, with his new owner. He remembered that and it made his heart slow down. But a few more memories trickled back and made his heart speed up again, he’d got lost and he’d been sick and he thought he remembered being in trouble, already. But he was definitely in the right place now, his owner - the person who wanted him - had been there, he remembered her face and that made him feel better. He would just wait here, and she’d be back, it still seemed like it was early in the morning.

The first person who came in wasn’t Dr. de Courcy though, it was a rumpled man with ruffled hair. 798591 stared at him for a moment before he remembered that he’d seen him last night. He couldn’t remember his name though.

The rumpled man came and peered at him, “how are you feeling this morning?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” said 798591.

“Do you still have a headache?” asked the rumpled man.

798591 nodded.

“Can you tell me how bad the pain is, out of ten?” asked the rumpled man.

798591 thought about it, his head didn’t feel very bad, but he couldn’t figure out how to turn it into a number, and trying made the pain spike up behind his eyes. And not answering the question was making a sinking, anxious feeling low in his belly.

“Hey now,” said the rumpled man, “its okay, don’t answer if its too hard. Just relax now. Take some deep breaths.”

798591 took a few big gulps of air and the rumpled man nodded encouragingly.

“That’s good,” he said, “let’s try again. Can you tell me if your headache is better or worse than last night?”

“Its better?” whispered 798591, “I think?”

“Well that’s good,” said rumpled man, “and do you have any other pain at all?”

He did, but he wasn’t supposed to complain and the questions were making the fluttery, anxious feelings worse, so he shook his head.

“That’s good,” said rumpled man, and smiled at him, so it was probably good he hadn’t said anything, “are you still feeling nauseous at all?”

798591 shook his head, he didn’t even have to keep that to himself, his stomach wasn’t turning over in unhappy ways any more.

“Good,” said the rumpled man, “good. Can you sit up for me?”

798591 sat up and the rumpled man came over and pressed his stethoscope against his chest, and then his back, and then his belly. He had 798591 hold his hands out with his eyes shut so he could press down on them the way Dr. de Courcy had the day before, and then shone a light in his eyes. He still didn’t understand why. But when he was done, he stepped back and nodded to himself.

“Okay,” said the rumpled man, “do you know your name?”

“798591,” he said, which earned him a frown. But he knew he remembered it. He knew that number.

“And what’s the date?” asked the rumpled man.

“I don’t know,” said 798591.

“Do you know what month it is,” asked the rumpled man, “or the season?”

798591 shook his head.

“Do you know how long you’ve been in the hospital?”

“Since yesterday,” said 798591.

“Yeah,” said the rumbled man “that was a good effort. You’re doing fine. Someone will bring you breakfast in a couple of hours.”

He turned around as if to go.

798591 summoned up his courage and asked, “is Dr. de Courcy coming back?”

“Huh?” asked the rumpled man, “yeah at some point today, rounds are usually early, but everything’s still off this morning, from the accident.”

He hurried out before 798591 could work up the nerve to ask anything else. He huddled down into his blankets and tried not to be afraid. He didn’t know what was making him feel so scared, but he wanted it to stop. He wanted Dr. de Courcy to come back and take him somewhere else. He’s not supposed to want things, it sent a twinge of pain shooting through his head.

The next person to come in was a small woman with lots and lots of curly brown hair carrying food on a tray and more pills for him to take. She looked comfortingly familiar but it took him a while to come up with her name. Like his brain was going very slowly.

“Remember me?” she asked with a nice little smile.

“Kenna?” He asked, he still wasn’t totally sure.

“That’s right,” she beamed, “you remembered. That’s really good. I brought you some breakfast, sorry its late, there was a thing with the dietetics orders. And I’m supposed to stay with you and make sure you’re swallowing okay, alright?” She came over and put the food in front of him and asked, “can I sit here? I promise I won’t come and loom over you every time you eat.”

It took him a moment to figure out that Kenna was actually asking his permission, like he got a say in where people sat. He nodded and she perched on the edge of his bed.

“Do you feel like you can eat anything?” Kenna asked him, “or are you still feeling too sick?”

He wasn’t feeling sick, having food in front of him made him suddenly realize that he didn’t know when he’d last had any food and he was awfully hungry. He shook his head hard.

“Well that’s a good sign,” said Kenna. She gave him another nice little smile. “But I want you to eat this very slowly so we can make sure you’re not having any trouble with it okay? We normally have a speech path to do this, but everything is still sort of mad and we didn’t want to make you wait that long to have some food,” she added.

798591 didn’t really know what that meant, he was just happy to be fed, and to have Kenna there. He did as he was told and took small, slow mouthfuls Kenna encouraged him a bit while he ate, and patted his legs a few times through the blankets and it made it easier to eat slower, so she would stay and he wouldn’t be left alone again. He could only drag it out for so long before he didn’t have any food left.

“You did really well,” said Kenna, getting up and patting his shoulder, “I’ll be back at some point to take you to imaging, but I’ve got to run.”

And then she left, and 798591 was left alone for hours and hours.

A stranger came in at one point and brought him more food but they didn’t stay or talk to him and even after another meal he was still lingeringly hungry. It felt familiar, and that made him feel anxious and he just wanted it all to stop. Everything felt wrong and he didn’t know why.

He lost track of the time a little, but it was sometime after that that a group of people in white coats, including the rumpled man again filed into the room followed, at last, by Dr. de Courcy. 798591 immediately straightened up and tried to look alert and tidy. Dr. de Courcy’s eyes brushed over him briefly before she turned to face the rumpled man.

“Dr. McCormick?” she said, and then stared expectantly at him.

The rumpled man, who must be Dr. McCormick and who looked more rumpled than ever, picked up the pad of paper that hung off the edge of his bed and looked from it, to Dr. de Courcy.

“An unidentified and unclaimed male patient, admitted yesterday afternoon and believed to have been involved in the shipwreck. He was assessed by you and by Joey Mallory and presented with disorientation and - pure retrograde amnesia - and moderate dehydration and nausea, believed to be secondary to - ingesting salt water, treated with oral H2 inhibitors. The patient experienced more nausea and headache overnight and I administered oral acetominophen. As of this morning he reported reduced headache and no further nausea. And the RN noted no dysphagia or nausea with breakfast this morning. Initial labs taken during admission showed minor electrolyte imbalances but no other abnormalities, and follow-up labs taken during the early morning are entirely normal.”

He ended his long report by gasping in a big breath, like he’d just run.

“Where are we in the imaging queue?” Dr. de Courcy asked. 798591 still didn’t really understand what that meant.

“They’re hoping to get him in this evening,” said a woman who was standing behind Dr. McCormick.

“Are the labs in epic?”

“Yes,” said Dr. McCormick.

“I want them redone every day until I say otherwise,” said Dr. de Courcy, “maintain the H2 inhibitors for 48 hours to be on the safe side. What’s the obvious next step diagnostically?”

“We need brain imaging,” said one of the women.

“Does everyone agree with Dr. Yeo that imaging is going complete our clinical picture?”

The woman who was standing behind Dr. McCormick spoke up again, “we need to do a neurological exam.”

“Thank you Dr. Halabi,” said Dr. de Courcy, “yes, don’t ever neglect diagnostic exams just because you have, or expect to have imaging. And frankly, becoming over dependent on high tech imaging is a bad idea. You never know when you might suddenly not have it, as we’re currently experiencing. However, because this patient is showing some atypical symptoms I’m going to be doing his work up today and full neurological exam tomorrow, so you will all have to practice on our next patients.”

Dr. Yeo put her hand in the air.

“Yes,” said Dr. de Courcy.

“Shouldn’t we also do a psychological exam? I thought pure retrograde amnesia was usually psychiatric?”

“Yes,” said Dr. de Courcy, “that is correct, your reward will be contacting the psychiatry department and scheduling the exam. Do not conflict with my exam we can’t do both at once.”

“Yes Dr. de Courcy,” said Dr. Yeo.

Some of the other people scrambled for notebooks and scribbled notes.

“And what else?” Dr. de Courcy said.

The scribblers stopped scribbling.

“We have a completely unidentified patient,” said Dr. de Courcy, “we need the police. The world outside the hospital does continue to exist during your shifts. I realize you’re tired, but please attempt to retain object permanence.”

They scribbled some more.

798591 looked between the cluster of people as they talked and tried to figure out what was going on and why Dr. de Courcy wouldn’t look at him or speak to him. He didn’t feel sick anymore, and he didn’t know why Dr. McCormick had said he was unclaimed. He had been delivered. Someone wanted him, someone had to want him, or he would be sent back and refurbished and -

“Well,” Dr. de Courcy said suddenly, and everyone else looked as confused as he felt, “begin the neurological exams on our next set of patients.” she barked, “and go find me Kenna.”

“But -“ Dr. McCormick started.

“Now,” she snapped, and he ran away.

They were alone in the room but 798591 suddenly didn’t feel good about it.

Dr. de Courcy moved a bit closer and leaned over him.

“Take deep breaths,” she said to him.

798591 obediently sucked air deep into his lungs.

“Slowly now,” she said, “good. Try and stay calm, we’re nearly done. We’ll leave you alone soon.”

No, no, she couldn’t leave, he didn’t know what he was going to do, he didn’t want to be alone again.

“Please,” he whispered, “please, I’m better, I’ll be good, please don’t send me away,” he tried desperately not to cry again.

Dr. de Courcy frowned down at him, “what are you talking about? And stop biting your lip you’ll make it bleed.”

798591 opened his mouth like he’d been told, but then he couldn’t stop tears dripping out of his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to cry. She really wasn’t going to keep him if he couldn’t stop crying.

“Oh no, Fawn, what happened?” Kenna said, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, he didn’t know when she’d come in, “you were doing so good earlier. Are you hurting?”

“Fawn?” said Dr. de Courcy.

If Kenna said anything in response he didn’t hear her, but he felt a little better while she was stroking his shoulders, and he managed to blink away the rest of the tears.

“That’s better,” said Dr. de Courcy, “now, what are you crying about?”

798591 risked a glance up at her. She was frowning down at him with her arms crossed.

“Did you sleep much last night?” she asked.

“S-some,” he said, timidly, “I can do better - I’ll be better.”

“I may write you a prescription for a sleeping pill, just for the night,” she said, “there’s no point in spending an hour on a neurological exam that will just tell me you’re exhausted. Would that be easier?”

“Whatever you like ma’am,” said 798591.

“Kenna,” said Dr. de Courcy, “I’m hours behind as it is, when you’re finished here, I need you to go contact the hospital legal department, about contacting the police and about what we discussed yesterday. Hand off your other patients if you need to and blame me for it, I want this handled.”

798591 felt his breathing pick up again and he couldn’t stop it, even though he did try.

“Oh is that what got you all wound up,” said Dr. de Courcy, “you’re not about to be arrested, we always call the police when someone gets lost.”

“You’re okay,” said Kenna, “you’re safe here. You’re safe.”

798591 gasped in a very shaky breath, and then his stomach gurgled loudly, and he couldn’t stop it. He also couldn’t stop himself from blushing.

“Are we starving you?” said Dr. de Courcy.

“No,” said 798591, “no I’m alright.”

“Feed him before you talk to legal,” Dr. de Courcy said to Kenna.

“Will the kitchen -“ Kenna started.

Dr. de Courcy took a wallet out of one of her pockets and handed Kenna a folded bill, “the cafeteria will be faster. Hopefully he’ll be less panicky when he’s comfortable.”

She swept out of the room.

Kenna stood up and looked at him, which meant she wasn’t holding him any more, “what would you like?” she asked him.

“I don’t need anything,” 798591 whispered, “its okay.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Kenna, “ you need to eat if you’re hungry. And you’ve had a time of it, I’ll get you a treat, kay? I’ll be right back.”

And she dashed off, and he was alone again.

@haro-whumps @whatwasmyprevioususername @whump-it

#lost in transit #box boy extended universe #bbu #poor kiddo #i swear i will give him a name soon #hospitals

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

The Good Guys Dressed In Black

TITLE: The Good Guys Dressed In Black CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: ½ AUTHOR: @timeladylaufeson ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki meeting and falling in love with an MiB agent. RATING: Everyone, I guess? There’s some language but nothing bad I’d say NOTES/WARNINGS: Took the title from the song Men In Black by Will Smith :) I wouldn’t say you need to know the MiB films too well to understand, but I guess you should have some basic knowledge. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!!

A woman in a smart black suit stood in line at a Starbucks not far away from the large concrete cube on Battery Drive. When her turn came, she was greeted by one of her favourite baristas, and they chatted for a moment as she handed him her thermos.

“It’s on us today,” the barista said and smiled, sending the cup towards the espresso bar.

“Aw, thanks Pete,” she smiled and moved over to the handoff. She rested against one of the tables beside it and waited, looking around the café mindlessly.

“Venti iced soy vanilla latté with an extra shot for… Teetee?” the barista at the handoff called, a confused frown on his face. She smirked and walked over to him, grabbing the cup.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” she asked and the barista nodded. “Nice to meet you! I’m Double Tee, I’m here all the time.”

“I’m Luke,” he said. “You work in the cube, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Can you tell me-”

“Top secret organisation that deals with extraterrestrial threats.”

“For real?”

“Of course,” she grinned. “Now, if you would please look over here,” she pulled what appeared to be a pen from her pocket and put a pair of sunglasses on her eyes. She pressed a small button on the side of the device and it flashed brightly, the young man’s face turning completely blank. “Do yourself a favour and don’t ask questions that you don’t need an answer to. For your concern, I work for the government. Also, this is not soy. Please be more careful, someone could be allergic and you could get in trouble. I’m not, so I’ll just drink it, but I’ll be bitter the whole day because almond milk sucks. Have a good day, Luke.”

She turned around to leave, but as she was walking through the door, she bumped into someone that was coming in.

“Oh shit, fuck, I’m so sorry,” she blurted out as she watched the coffee spill on their shirt. “I really need to start closing the cup before I start walking, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright, nothing happened,” a smooth voice replied to her. She looked up and saw a face that she knew all too well from the screens all over the Headquarters.

“No, I… I just messed up your shirt, I’m really sorry,” she kept apologising. “I’ll buy you a coffee.”

“It really is alright,” he tried to assure her.

“Please, I insist,” she said, desperately trying to ignore those crystal blue eyes and the amused little smile. She practically dragged him to the cash desk and told him him to pick whatever he liked.

“It’s really not necessary,” he said.

“Yes it is,” she told him. “Pete, get this nice gentleman whatever he wishes, I’m paying,” she handed him a twenty dollar bill. “Keep the rest. I have to go to work now. Have a good day! And I’m sorry for spilling coffee on you.”

She crossed the street and walked in to the HQ, greeting Frank the talking pug and the Guard, who was just reading his newspaper as usual.

“You have coffee on your shirt,” Frank said in his disturbingly deep voice.

“I know, I was stupid and didn’t look where I was going.”

“As per usual,” the Guard grumbled.

“Funny as per usual,” she sneered back at him as she stepped into the lift. As it arrived in the office, she couldn’t help but smile. Her job was a fantastical adventure and she loved it. There was a line of aliens waiting for their documents to be verified over at the front desk. Another group of aliens walk/crawled/flew past her. There was Kay, showing some rookies around. Someone was putting up a fight.

“Double Tee! Are you running around neuralysing random people again?”

Yeah. That was the life.

The following morning, as Double Tee entered the Starbucks and joined the queue, someone tapped her shoulder.

“Excuse me, aren’t you the lady that so kindly bought my drink yesterday?” the now familiar voice asked.

Double Tee chuckled. “Don’t you mean the dumbass that spilled coffee on you yesterday?”

“Well but you did buy me a drink afterwards, didn’t you?” he asked, a cheeky smile on his face.

“That I did,” she nodded.

“Let me return the favour,” he offered. “I’ll buy your coffee today.”

“Absolutely not! Yesterday was for… well, yesterday,” she shook her head. “I ruined your shirt, that’s why I bought your coffee. We’re even now.”

“What if I just really want to buy a coffee?” he suggested. “I… I heard that’s what men do when they find a woman attractive. I’m Loki.”

That was how it started. Every day, one of them bought the other their coffee. The next day, they switched. Double Tee knew she shouldn’t engage with a civilian, even less so with an alien, but God, was this one incredible in every way imaginable. They talked for hours on end, about virtually nothing. He respected her avoiding questions about her job and very politely pretended to be deaf when something slipped her lips. He caught on the fact that it had something to do with stars and excitedly talked about them, ocassionally mentioning that he missed them and that he couldn’t really see them in the city. She felt herself falling for him while the reasonable part of her brain screamed bloody murder about it being the worst idea in history. He was, after all, still listed as a potential threat, despite having joined the Avengers now.

One evening, it was fairly late, they sat together at the Starbucks with their coffees, Loki looking out the window wistfully.

“What’s wrong, El?” Double Tee asked. “You’re looking even sadder than normal.”

“Ha ha ha,” he glared at her. “I don’t want to be moaning about this stuff.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” she said.

Loki let out a sigh. “I told you about my mother, didn’t I?”

“You did, yes,” she nodded. “She died, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” he said. “And… I can’t see her star.”

“What?”

“On Asgard, when someone dies, their soul goes up to the sky and becomes a star. But… I can’t see hers from here. I can barely see any, to be honest.”

Double Tee thought for a brief moment. “Do you trust me?” she asked.

“Of course I do, why?” he frowned.

“Come with me,” she said, downed the rest of her coffee and stood up. “Come on.”

Confused, he stood as well and followed her outside, across the road, into the Headquarters. She greeted the Guardian and Frank as usual, mumbling something vague about a witness. Loki’s curious face made them believe her lie, so they said nothing. In the lift, Double Tee pressed a button that said garage and down they went. She led Loki all the way to the back where a small, unsuspecting motorcycle was parked.

“Do you really trust me?” she asked again as she opened what appeared to be a closet.

“I really do, but what-”

“No time for questions,” she interrupted him. “Put this on,” she threw a leather jacket at him and got herself the same one. “And this,” she handed him a helmet. “We’re going on a tiny little trip,” she told him as she sat on the motorcycle. Loki took a breath to ask her something, but decided against, and sat right behind her.

“I need you to hold on tight,” she said.

“On to what?” he asked.

“Me, dumbass,” she chuckled.

“That doesn’t sound very safe,” he pointed out.

“It’s completely safe, don’t worry,” she dismissed him. “It’s an MIB certified vehicle, it’s safer than like… all normal cars.”

“MI what?”

Instead of replying, Double Tee started the motorcycle and Loki could only clutch on to her quickly as they left the garage. They soared through the ever so busy streets of New York, zigzagging through the traffic like it was nothing. Double Tee was way too aware of Loki’s arms around her waist, but did her best to ignore them.

As they left the city and got off the main road, Double Tee slowed down for a moment.

“Do you seriously trust me?” she asked once more having to shout al ittle to make sure he heard her.

“The fact that this is the third time you asked me in the span of thirty minutes makes me seriously question it,” he said. “But I still do.”

“Then hold on a little tighter and feel free to scream,” she said and pushed a tiny button on the side of the right handlebar.

“What-”

Too late. The motorcycle went about twenty times faster now, the roaring of the engine deafening them. In a few moments, they could both feel the wheels leaving the ground and the motorcycle went flying through the night. When it got high enough, the engine quietened again and switched itself into flight mode.

“You can let go of me now,” Double Tee said.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Loki shook his head, but loosened his grip on her a little. “What in the nine realms-”

“You can’t tell anyone about this, alright?” she said. “Never. Ever. This is a secret, okay?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded. “But what-”

“Men in Black. That’s who I work for,” she interrupted him again. “A top secret agency. We deal with aliens and stuff. This is… our tech. Well, not exactly, it’s alien mostly. But it has some Stark Industries parts.”

“Stark knows about all this?”

“God, no.”

“And why exactly are you telling me this now?”

“I wanted to show you the stars. Push the little button on the right on the helmet, you’ll see better.”

With a shaky hand, Loki found the button and pressed it, his helmet opening and jaw dropping. The chilly wind made prickly tears flood his eyes and blur his vision, making the beauty above him barely recognisable. He blinked a few times and everything came to focus, but new tears replaced them, this time emotional ones. The last time he saw this much beauty was back on Asgard, where he used to sit on his window and just stare at the night sky for hours. He tried to find his mother’s star, but couldn’t see it in the speed.

“Don’t worry, we’re gonna land soon,” she said as if reading his thoughts. “Just a few more minutes.”

In that moment, a tiny red light started blinking on the inside of her helmet. An incoming call. Her brain went into panic mode and in the frenzy, she sent it to voice mail, hoping that whoever was calling would think she was busy escaping from something.

They landed on top of a small hill, in the middle of a thin forest. Double Tee switched the motorcycle off and took off her helmet. She turned to Loki, noticing the tears that stained his cheeks.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, did I- did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“No,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s perfect,” he added, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Don’t mention it,” she whispered as she nuzzled into his neck. “But you know, you’re missing out on the stars right now. Wanna climb a tree?”

In just a few moments, they sat atop a giant oak, watching the stars.

“What’s your real name?” Loki asked.

“Double Tee,” she said. “It’s my official name now. I don’t really exist anymore.”

“So… what was your name?” he wondered.

“Theresa-Taylor Barnes,” she said.

“Barnes?” he frowned.

“Distant relative,” she nodded, knowing exactly what he was about to ask. “Poor uncle James. How is he?”

“He’s… he’s fine, I think,” Loki said. “I think we’re good friends, but I’m not really sure.”

“I’d tell you to say hi to him, but… he doesn’t know me. He’s not supposed to know me. No one is.”

“Then why-”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I should have never started talking to you, but I just… couldn’t help it.”

“It must be quite lonely,” he pointed out.

“In a way,” she agreed mindlessly. “I… I suppose I have the other agents, but familiarity isn’t really a big thing there. We’re just colleagues mostly. We don’t… we’re not like you guys.”

“Us?”

“The Avengers. Aren’t you this really cool team that’s real good friends? Doesn’t Stark always organise these parties where you all drink and dance and shit?”

“I suppose.”

“Must be cool.”

He took a pause. “I could… introduce you.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Not a good idea. I’m not supposed to be friends with anyone, ever. If someone finds out about you, I’m toast.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t think I want to know.”

None of them said anything for a moment.

“Theresa-Taylor?”

“Don’t,” she mumbled. “It’s a stupid name. Call me Terry if you really want to.”

“Terry,” he tried again. “It doesn’t really suit you.”

“It’s been years since someone called me that,” she smiled. “It doesn’t even sound right anymore, but it’s nice to hear it.”

“What if I called you mine instead?” he suggested. Double Tee’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“You’re amazing. You took a huge risk taking me here just to make me feel better. You’re the only person who gets me. You’re funny, you’re smart, you’re kind, you’re…” he took a deep breath. “You’re the best person I have ever met. I’m in love with you, Terry.”

“El, I-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupted her. “I just… wanted to get it out of my system.”

With her eyes full of tears, she leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. He looked at her for a moment, then turned his head ever so slightly and closed the remaining space between them. It was only for the shortest moment, but it still felt as if time had stopped.

When they separated again, Loki gently put a strand of Double Tee’s hair behind her ear. “Don’t cry, darling,” he whispered, hugging her tight.

“This shouldn’t be,” she sobbed. “I shouldn’t have feelings for you. I’m so screwed.”

“No you’re not,” he said. “No one has to know.”

But then-

“Double Tee and Loki, sitting in a tree,” they heard from below them. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

They flinched and look down, only to see two other agents, Jay and Kay.

“Man, I never thought I’d get to sing that again,” Jay snickered.

“Get down here, Double Tee,” Kay said, his arms crossed on his chest. “You too, sir.”

Double Tee sighed and jumped off the branch, landing on her feet but nearly falling over.

“Are you out of your mind?” Kay asked.

“Kay, wait,” Jay stopped him, noticing her puffy red eyes. “What’s wrong, girl? Is he hurting you?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m fine,” she snapped back. “Loki’s not… hurting me.”

“Then why are you crying?” he frowned.

“Because you are going to neuralyse him, aren’t you? You’re gonna take my only friend away from me.”

“You sure you guys are just friends?”

“Jay. Focus,” Kay scolded him. “You know the rules, Double Tee. No relationships with the outside world. And especially not stealing an MIB vehicle to go for a ride with the outside world. You of all people-”

“Me of all people!” she exclaimed. “Me of all people is sick of this! Me of all people is tired of not having anyone for myself! Me of all people is-”

“Lonely,” Jay finished for her. Double Tee gulped and nodded, noticing Kay’s face softening ever so slightly.

“We’ve all been there,” he said. “Sooner or later. Everyone gets lonely. And… sometimes falls in love with an alien.”

“That doesn’t sound stupid at all,” Jay mumbled.

“Point is,” Kay glared at him. “We just move on.”

“No,” Double Tee whimpered. “Don’t take it away from me. Please, Kay. I’m the happiest I have ever been.”

“You know the rules, Double Tee,” he insisted. “We have to neuralyse him and suspend you.”

“Kay, wait,” Jay interrupted him once more. “Look at her. You really want to break her? Maybe we could come up with something. He’s not really outside world, is he? He’s kind of one of us when you think about it.”

A spark of hope lightened Double Tee’s features. “Please, Kay.”

The older agent thought for a moment. “Fine. But if Oh finds out, you’re toast, understood?”

“Thank you!” she let out a sigh of relief.

“We’ll still have to suspend you for the bike though,” he said. “We’ll take you both back.”

Double Tee turned to Loki behind her and smiled. “We’re okay,” she whispered, reaching for his hand. He returned the smile end entwined his fingers with hers.

“Aw, man, look at how cute they are!” Jay said.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #timeladylaufeyson #the good guys dressed in black

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cetaceans-pls · 4 years

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Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Characters: Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne

Summary:

Revolution and family both run on love and carbohydrates, and you can quote Jason on that.

Or, Jason swings by the Manor to find Alfred stress-cooking his heart out after a fight with Bruce, and over the course of making dumplings, the concept of caring by way of cooking becomes clear.

June got me feeling some kind of way about blatantly showing people you care about how much you care. We’re almost halfway through 2020, so keep on keeping on, and be charitable and kind as often as you possibly can.

Fic in Tumblr under the cut, and here’s my masterlist for more sweet sweet reads:

2020, right?

Jason’s not sure there’s anything left in his tank except for spite; it’s enough to get him out and about making sure that the GCPD watched their fucking step, but even spite is (surprisingly enough) not endless. That’s the hallmark of this most accursed of accursed years; prickly energy up-down his back that leaves him restless, and a complete inability to actually do any fucking thing about any fucking bit of it.

Times like these, there’s really just the one sure-fire way to re-find centre, and if it involves hacking into the family calendar to find just the right time when most everyone’s out of the house, well. There’s a reason Bruce never revoked his access, even if he’s got a second lifetime left to regret his pre-teen e-mail address ( ‘ [email protected] ’, where the w’s are of course for Wonder Woman, and the x’s are for Cool).

It’s a shitty hot June day, depression and distress are heavier in the air even than the choking humidity, and the Manor is quiet and cool in comparison. It’s tomb-like, yeah, but it’s not coffin-like and that makes all the difference. Jason comes in through the front door because he knows the house is mostly empty, and sheds layers as he goes. By the time he reaches the kitchen, he’s a full-grown man in ratty sweats and a sweat-damp undershirt, and Alfred looks up at him with endless warmth. “Why, Master Jason, if you had rung the bell I could have greeted you at the door.”

Jason looks both ways just in case, because this family is full up to the neck in people with horrific timing, before ducking down and pecking Alfred on the cheek; xxwwDangerBirdwwxx is not the only thing that stayed with him from childhood. “Heya, Alfie,” he says, already feeling 15 degrees better than he did outside. “I just let myself in, don’t sweat it. Am I interrupting something?”

He very clearly is. Alfred doesn’t have his coat on, and looks achingly domestic with his shirt sleeves neatly folded up and his soft fuzzy sweater-vest. His hands are a floury mess, kneading dough the size of two Dick-heads, but Alfred’s already moving away to wash his hands and put the kettle on. “Hey, no, you don’t have to, lemme just make my own-”

“Nonsense, Master Jason,” Alfred says, mild-mannered and a thousand times more menacing than Batman at his absolute worst. “It’s no trouble, there’s leftover roast beef from dinner yesterday, it won’t take a moment to make you a snack.”

And in less than said moment, Jason has tea-with-honey-and-milk, and a roast beef sandwich that smells like the dream ideal of every roast beef sandwich. He’s already eating before his brain can tell him to protest Alfred waiting on him, and the appreciative groan comes in right on queue, under a second after that first bite.

There is A Father, A Son, and A Holy Ghost, and they manifest all at once as an elderly British man with the finger strength of a mid-sized mountain gorilla. That dough is being beaten into absolute submission as Alfred gets back into the swing of things, and over the course of the consumption of a sandwich, it becomes a smooth, perfect lump that gets lovingly plopped into a bowl and covered with a damp tea cloth.

Alfred doesn’t ask Jason if there’s something wrong, or if he needs something. The clearest need is obviously the need to be home, and home Jason is, so whatever thing that next goes wrong had best be prepared to face Alfred and his selection of awful terrible knives that line the kitchen. He puts the bowl away on a shady spot on a windowsill and pulls out a mountain of onions instead, and gets to peeling.

Jason pulls out a switchblade from somewhere about his person, blitzes it with the hand sanitiser they’ve all been guilted into bringing with them at any and all times, and starts helping. His kitchen in his ratty apartment is where all the rats in the building like to hold Communion or something, so he’s long since given up having fresh produce around. Happily, vigilanteeism with a side of crime bossing keeps your knife skills sharp, and there’s something alarmingly freeing about peeling and chopping onions while unavoidable tears start up, in a sunny kitchen with your granddad.

“What’re we getting all these onions ready for, anyways?” Jason says, enjoying the excuse to have a stress cry. Alfred doesn’t suffer from waterworks, but that’s because he suffers from chronic dry eyes instead. It's a condition that persists despite every Robin in a long line of Robins buying every eye drop product on the market between them for him to try.

Crying's a funny ol’ thing in the Manor, and it’s also funny that Alfred’s probably seen the most tears despite being the man least capable of them.

“Everyone has been running ragged across the city recently, and I thought that dumplings might be quite a nice treat for dinner tonight. I assume you’ll be joining us, won’t you Master Jason?”

“Of course,” Jason says because there’s no point getting between Alfred and dinner participation. There’s a bigger issue at hand anyways; dumplings are delicious but also obnoxiously difficult to make in any quantity fit to feed Bats and Birds and their oversized appetites. Everybody in the household has a favourite type, but everybody in the household worries when they get their wish, because Alfred only ever makes dumplings for a full meal when he’s stress-cooking out of his mind.

The man can’t even stress-cry while cutting onions, for fuck’s sake.

It’s best to broach the topic with a soft touch, which sucks entire balls because it’s not exactly Jason’s specialty. “So, uh. What dumplings are we making today?”

“Only 3 types,” Alfred says with a hint of apology. “Xiaolongbao, because I wanted to finish up the last batch of stock I made and Master Dick does so enjoy soup dumplings. A side of cheese-and-spinach momos for Master Damian, who has mentioned missing Tibetan food. And seeing as how you’ll be joining us, as many gyoza as these old hands of mine are able to make, Master Jason.”

Okay, cool, so an infinity of endless, delicious potstickers then, all right. What a time to be alive, Jason thinks to himself. “Not making anything special for B, huh?”

The mood takes a turn for the spoilt, goes off faster than tipping a fistful of salt into a cup of milk. “Master Bruce will have whatever is available, and he will enjoy it,” Alfred says frostily, and chops the end off an onion with significantly more force than reasonable.

That’s the answer, then. Christ, what has Bruce done now? “Saw on the schedule that he’s got a board meeting for another couple of hours, Alfred, so you can lay it on me. What happened? Are you okay?”

Alfred looks at him at that, looks at him and smiles the smile he gets every year when he’s inundated with gifts on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day and the arbitrarily set Alfred’s Day (September 8th, as decided by Dick on a whim entire aeons ago), and Jason tries not to feel embarrassed because he’s a whole-ass adult but he doesn’t pretend he’s not pleased to have made the mood ease up. “I’m well, Master Jason, thank you for your concern. I’m afraid I can’t say the same for Master Bruce.” He sighs, and they fall into silence. B brings bad communication out of the best of men, what else is new.

The mound of onions done, Jason is assigned ginger and garlic and potatoes and more things fresh from the garden and greenhouse, while Alfred starts taking his frustration out on a mountain of meat.

Jason’s careful to keep their produce separate, as is Alfred; wouldn’t do to cross-contaminate meat into momos, after all. They work and they work and they work, until all the prep is done and all that’s left is the dough and the stuffing.

The duties get divided like this: Jason gets the cheese and the seasoned spinach to make vegetarian dumplings for Damian, and Alfred gets literally everything else. Despite this, though, Alfred’s sure fingers and devastating dexterity churn out beautifully-shaped dumplings at 4 times Jason’s top speed.

Jason’s got 8 done and Alfred’s putting an entire tray away when Alfred finally breaks their quiet and sighs, looking as old as he is (and isn’t that the most horrifying thing this horrifying year, hey). “Excuse my dour mood, Master Jason. I had an altercation with Master Bruce this morning, regarding his workload and his reluctance to delegate. It grew unfortunately heated, and I turned a blind eye to his extremely broken hand. I did not stop him from leaving the Manor for work." A little additional violence goes into the folding of the current gyoza, and Alfred's lips twist and turn down like a dumpling fold. "Decades I've spent looking after the man. It's alarming how he can still rile me up so."

Isn't that a Universal Truth. Alfred's Angry Gyoza still looks better than Jason's best go at a momo, which is also a Universal Truth. He just needs to try again, till he gets better. Alfred’s good at indirectly teaching patience, and directly practicing it himself, but everyone’s got a line and it’s not the first time somebody’s crossed this one. “It’s his special gift, swear to God. You know what they say, Alfie. Hell really is other people.” Oh, the pleats on this one are looking mighty fine. “Uh, just. How bad a break are we talking about here? What exactly did he do to piss you off this time?”

“He hasn’t had more than 2 hours of sleep a day since, oh, April, I believe. Master Bruce is trying to effect systemic change at both his day-time and night-time jobs, and he has been running on little more than righteous anger and painkillers for weeks. Master Tim has tried to talk him down, as have I, but yesterday he shattered his wrist in a fight with far too many pigs and I found him working down below when I woke up this morning with his hand wrapped up in duct tape.” Alfred sighs, and rubs at his forehead with the back of his hand. “Duct tape and batarangs for splints, Lord help me, because he didn’t want me to worry about the true extent of his injuries.”

And now Bruce is in his civvies with an unknown number of broken bones and a blood opium level that’s over 9000, trying to do good in a no-good world, and all Alfred can do is to become more dumpling machine than man to avoid the deep unpleasantness of it all.

Jason whistles. He thought he’d been having a bad time but at least Alfred was a surefire source of comfort. Alfred’s place to turn to until he’d walked in was just a lump of dough, shit. “Sounds about right for him. But Alfie, how ‘bout you? You’re the one co-ordinating the largest band of crime fighters outside the League, and you’re most of the reason why the man that does co-ordinate the League is even a little bit functioning.” Bruce is a whole entire adult man filled to the brows with idiocy, sure, but… “If everyone’s running ragged you’re gonna be running ragged-est, and if I thought that was the case, we-ell. Duct tape starts looking better and better.”

Alfred looks affronted and gently outraged. “I have been doing just fine, Master Jason. I am not the man running around in costume trying to punch unkindness out of his fellow man. I am just the butler, sitting at home making dumplings, while the master of the household is tripping across the financial district in screaming pain.” Uh oh, here comes another Angry Gyoza, perfectly-shaped and squeezed just a shade too hard.

Jason puts down a slightly-less-crappy momo on his tray, and reaches across the small kitchen table to catch Alfred by the wrist, gentle as anything. “Alfie, I’m saying this as someone who loves you so much I’d literally kill for you,” and boy Jason sure does mean literally, “but hard-headedness is a learned trait, and we got it from B and B got it from you. The man’s an idiot, sure, but sounds like he’s probably at least as worried ‘bout you as you are ‘bout him. Does that sound about right?”

Ah, he really does suck at this whole sweetly-softly thing, but it’s clear once you think to look. Alfred’s game face is in many ways more impenetrable even than a cowl and a mask, but there’re dark circles under his eyes, he’s sallow instead of just pale, and there’s an exhausted stoop to his back that’s usually hidden under a perfectly-tailored suit jacket. Jason’s seeing it now after weeks of work keeping him away from the Manor; if he’d been seeing Alfred like this every day for the past god-knows-how-long, self-care with tape would suddenly seem incredibly appealing.

Alfred looks at his hand, Jason looks at Alfred, and they’re both quiet for a while. Jason thinks he should let go, but he also can’t help but feel that if he does, Alfred’s going to go back to being ‘just the butler’, and that’s not right, not right at all.

In the end, Alfred makes the first move, pulling away just so that he can pat the back of Jason’s hand. “It’s always a pleasant surprise to see how you have grown into such a fine young man,” he says absently, devastatingly. “Especially given the role models you were saddled with. Master Bruce…. may have brought up that I was working more than I should, though he did not come up with a viable alternative.” Alfred rolls his eyes, a rarity in public view. “He tried to give me a curfew; off the comms by midnight, Alfred, that’s the rule.”

They both snort at that. No one’s respected curfew in any format at any age in this household, and it’s almost sweet how Bruce nevertheless keeps trying it on child, adult, and parent alike.

“Nevertheless,” Alfred continues, hand still on Jason’s, “it’s a fair point to say that my and Master Bruce’s worrying over each has grown somewhat out of control, and changes need to be made. It… would help to have another pair of hands at the Manor.”

Oh, no. Alfred’s about-turn raises Jason’s suspicions, but it’s too late for him to do anything about it.

“Oh,” Alfred says with an exaggerated sigh, a smile hiding in plain sight, “it would do my old heart good if Master Bruce were to have more assistance during his night-time escapades. And if someone were available to help me cut onions and dice garlic, that would help too.”

Jason’s already fucking sunk, because he’s learned how to say ‘no’ to many things and 'fuck off' to a few more, but he’s never learned how to turn down an Alfred who works harder than most anyone to never ask for more than what his family can give.

He groans, completely trapped. “I’m a grown adult and I’m not moving back home with my family, Alfie, c’mon.”

Alfred pats him again, and goes back to making Jason’s favourite dumplings. “Of course, Master Jason, but that’s no reason why you couldn’t have dinner at home more often. Besides, who will badger and bully Master Bruce into being a more reasonable man if not for you?”

That’s a reasonable ask, because post-resurrection Jason has carved out time in his busy schedule to constantly prod and poke Bruce into being less of an asshole. And if Jason’s willing to go on a murderous rampage at Alfred’s behest, coming by more often to work together and help out isn’t much of an ask at all.

“Stop it, you already know I’m gonna say yes,” Jason grumbles, moving back to his task. “Alfie, you’re the absolute worst manipulator in the entire house, and this house is full of bastards.”

Alfred just laughs quietly, seeming more at ease and at peace than he was at the start. "I'm afraid, sir, I'll have to respectfully disagree. Hell may be other people, but this family, I think, is about as good as it gets."

And really, what's a good comeback to that?

Jason's setting the kitchen table for dinner while Alfred handles the steamer baskets and griddle with tremendous aplomb when the door creeps open timidly. That has Jason immediately on high alert, because nobody in the Manor does anything timidly.

It's Bruce, looking how he looks when he's about to go 3 rounds with the Joker while Killer Croc's nipping at one heel and the Penguin’s gnawing on the other. His right hand is wrapped in a blue cast, strapped to his front in a utilitarian white sling, and his left arm is weighed down with a grocery bag filled to bursting with what looks to be a guilty gift of assorted snacks and baked goods.

(Alfred is a nightmare to shop for; anything from a pet rock to a chef’s knife made of Damascus steel and beaten gold would be received with the same expression of fond long-suffering. Literally the finest analytical minds in the country still don't know if he's a Coke or a Dr. Pepper man, urgh.)

“Hello, Jason,” Bruce greets him, but his eyes are stuck fast on Alfred, calculating and hesitant.

“Hey, B,” Jason calls back, and takes the time to enjoy the sight of the big bad Batman mousily scurrying into the kitchen as he tries to gauge Alfred’s mood. “Went shopping, huh?”

“Just a few things.” Bruce carefully puts the bag on the kitchen counter and stops there, glancing at Alfred’s back warily. “It’s good to see you.”

Where Jason’s stood he can make out Alfred’s extremely indulgent smile, and it’s pretty clear he’s dragging the moment out to let Bruce stew a little. It’s a pretty worthwhile activity, so Jason just goes along with it, even though he can see Bruce tensing up as he sees the endless platters of dumplings and immediately Understands what sort of day Alfred’s been having. “Same, I guess. Your hand okay?”

That perks B right up. In a slightly too-loud voice, like he wants to make sure Alfred hears him, he says, “Could be worse. Leslie had me fixed up, and she’s putting me on strict rest for a week.” Another cautious peek at the stern line of Alfred’s back. “Doctor’s orders, and I have some investigative work to catch up with anyways, so Dick is stepping in for me for a few days.”

Christ, the peace offering couldn’t be made any more blatant if Bruce had come complete with a fruit basket and a Hallmark card of a sad-looking lamb. Jason almost wants to laugh, but he’s starting to feel a bit bad about the surreptitious glances, the uncertain line of the lip. Everyone’s been there, right? Done something a bit dumb and hurt somebody important, unwilling or unable to apologise, and when you try to make up for it it’s just butterflies-in-stomach and cheek-chewing until the other person gives a clear sign that it’s okay, it’s okay, Jaybird, I’m not upset about the car, I’m just glad you’re safe -

Nostalgia’s heavier in the air than the smell of fresh-fried potstickers. Lucky, though, that kindness is probably something you pick up from your parents too, because by the time Jason comes back to the moment Alfred’s already turned to face Bruce, an ice pack in hand. “I am delighted to hear it, sir,” Alfred tells him stiffly, but is gentle as anything as he leads Bruce to a kitchen chair and helps him ice his swollen hand.

The relief that takes over Bruce’s entire face when Alfred finally talks to him is eye-watering in its vulnerability, and the way he melts into the chair under the slightest bit of fussing is, honestly, equal parts sweet and sad.

Alfred must be similarly moved, because he procures a cushion out of thin air for Bruce to rest his arm on so that he can be free of the sling, and takes a moment to just stand there and brush dark hair away from a worn-out face. Bruce is out of it enough that he’s got his eyes closed and he’s just enjoying the careful touch, and Jason wants to scream a little, because how was Alfred surprised he grew up into an okay kind of guy when this was the standard the household set?

“Good man,” Alfred says, and maybe it’s in response to following Dr. Thompkins orders, but it’s pretty hard to misread that really, he just means 'good' in every way a man can be good when he looks at a half-asleep Bruce like that. “I’ll put the kettle on, and you can nibble on some pierogies while we wait for the family to gather, Master Bruce.”

That wakes Bruce right back up. “Are they-”

“Filled with cheese and potatoes, sir, of course. Why would I make anything but your favourite?” Alfred sniffs like he’s offended, but he’s still smiling as he pats Bruce on the shoulder before heading back to counter and Bruce’s bag of apologroceries.

He fishes out a beautiful red-and-white bakery box, and looks legitimately impressed. “Oh, my, Master Bruce. How did you find Bakewell tarts in Gotham? I haven’t had any in years, and I must confess to being partial to them.”

“Cross-referenced the ingredients of every perishable snack item available in the UK against the fresh produce that you buy often enough to be a statistically significant indicator of preference,” Bruce says around a yawn, like he’s not being absolutely insane right now. “Sorted it into an alphabetized list and sourced them from across the tri-state area. Letters A through to J are in that bag, but-,” another yawn, like Alfred and pierogies are the only thing keeping him going, “-but I’m glad I found you something you liked, Alfred.”

Jason just sits there, committing to memory that Alfie likes whatever the hell a Bakewell is, that he also somehow managed to make an entire dumpling series without Jason noticing, that Bruce fuckin’ Wayne’s favourite dump has cheesy mash stuffing, and that this is how to show care and affection when words are damn hard to get out. He sighs, because he has to fucking sigh, because now he’s so goddamn stricken over how love is inherent in groceries, and it’s so embarrassing how he absolutely, 100% would obliterate a nation in the name of the two men in this quiet little kitchen in the cursed year of our Lord, 2020.

When Alfred does return from the stove bearing a plate of piping hot pierogies for Bruce and gyoza for Jason, he feels OP enough to rip into the throat of the cruelty inherent in this world with his bare fucking teeth, and right after dinner, he really fucking will.

(Revolution and family both run love and carbohydrates, and you can quote him on that).

a/n: i don’t legitimately think anybody reads fic on tumblr bc i definitely loathe doing it so i mostly just write this to 1. soundboard myself and 2. wish that you’re doing okay just in case you did make it here. what a year of agonies, but the hope is that it’ll be 2021 and when you look back you think, oh, those were growing pains, and the world is tangibly better for having weathered it.

that’s the hope.

#batman #jason todd #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #jay & alfie #alfie & b #batfam #spoilers: this is just several thousand words of me thinking about what it means to look out for someone you care about #god cannot believe i went down the bathole and it's not the tech or the detectiving or the fighting that got me #it's just me consistently crying over the concept of familial bonds

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hydrus · 3 years

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