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thetriggeredhappy · 3 years

Note

in the dadspy au, what if jeremy was just going to be an assistant/cook/janitor at the base while his dad was being the mercenary (since spy didnt want him to follow the "career" but didnt want to be separated from him), but then jeremy turned out to be even better than the hired scout so they promote him to that position and spy is not happy with this at all

ok i was gonna put this in the queue to post but im impatient because im happy with this one. only thing i didnt have was spy being upset by this development

(warnings for canon-typical violence, discussion of mercenary-type things, paranoia, alcohol, and exactly one proper fight scene. consider this pg-13)

“Would you prefer the good news first, or the bad news?” Dad asked.

Jeremy looked up at him from where he’d snatched up the sunday comics from his dad’s newspaper and was doodling little hats on the characters while they waited for their food to arrive. “Uh,” he said, “good news first.”

“Alright. The good news is, do you remember that line I’ve been tailing? The one in New Mexico?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy said, then nodded a little more confidently. “Immunity, safehouse, somethin’ like that, right?”

“...Something like that,” Dad agreed carefully, and that made him raise an eyebrow. “It went well, and I think there’s the very real possibility that I’ve all but closed the deal, all they want now is an interview.”

“...Interview, singular,” Jeremy said slowly.

“That’s where the bad news begins. Unfortunately... merde, how to phrase this?” He drew a hand down his face. “They’re fully willing to hire me on, but this is a more... corporate affair than I’m used to. They have rules, stipulations. Long story short, they will not hire you as a mercenary on the basis of your age.”

Jeremy tensed. “What?” he demanded. “That’s stupid, I’m old enough to drive and buy guns and whatever the hell else.”

“But not rent a car, at least in many places in the United States.”

“But—“ he started, and remembered they were in public, and lowered his voice to a hiss, leaning in. “We’re hired killers, thieves, criminals. Do they really think we’re above having fakes? False documentation?”

“Actually, that is one of their requirements,” Dad said dryly, taking a paper from his jacket and consulting it. “I’m not happy about it either, mon lapin, but those are their rules. Already they have slightly bent them for one individual, and already I am on thin ice. But I may have a way to manage this.”

“Yeah?” Jeremy asked, nervous now.

“I know the woman responsible for new hires and managing the team I’ve applied for. She owes me a favor—a fairly hefty one. When I go in for the interview, one of my demands will include you being hired on, not as a mercenary, but for... for custodial purposes, something like that. Cook, janitor, security guard, secretary—whatever job there is that needs doing there, and I am sure that there will be one. Something to allow you to live there. Pay will likely be her stipulation, and the play I hope to make is that really, you’re overqualified for the position and she’s lucky to have someone so competent available, and in the worst case scenario, the pay is still good enough even for just one of us that we will not cut too deeply into the savings.”

The savings. That made Scout blink, because they only ever brought up the savings when—

“You think this could be it?” he asked quietly. “Like, it it?”

A hard exhale, and he leaned his cheek on his hand. “Potentially,” he finally said. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but the job promises a variety of things. Medical attention available, extremely low levels of danger, and most of all, confidentiality. The only people who will know any name we give them would be the woman in charge of hiring us and their singular medical professional. There is no mode of communication to or from the compound outside of emergency lines to the organization and a single secure payphone located two miles away, there is no civilization within a twenty-five minute drive minimum, and this operation has been going long enough that the local authorities have long since grown used to being paid off, and likely don’t even remember what for anymore. I cash in a few valuable favors and ask this employer to turn a blind eye, we’d have somewhere remote and secure to spend our time after our deaths are faked and once the contract is over, we can start over. No ties to the past.”

“Freedom,” Jeremy marveled.

Silence for a few seconds, broken only by the quiet chatter of the rest of the diner. “I want to warn you, this work may not be glamorous. It may not even be particularly easy. I’m giving you the option of saying no,” Dad said.

“What?! Yes, hell yes, are you joking? To get us to living like normal people? Steady work? Livin’ in one place? Count me in!” he laughed.

“What if the job is something you won’t enjoy? Long hours, boring work?” Dad asked, entirely serious.

“I’m still on board.”

“What if the other people working there are rude to you? Disrespectful?”

“Well most of the people I meet through our job now try to kill us, so really it’s an upgrade.”

“What if there’s no diner nearby?” he asked, and there was a glint of humor in his eye.

“Damn, sorry, that’s the dealbreaker,” he joked right back, and that made him snort, shake his head, greet the waitress as she came back with their coffee and soda and then informed them that their food would be out shortly.

“I’ll ask,” was what Dad said once she was gone again, and that was that, and they started driving to New Mexico two nights later.

“—A warm welcome to our two newest recruits. This is the Spy, and this is the Guard.”

“Guard?” asked one of the men at the table, his accent thick and distinctly Russian. It made Jeremy tense slightly, but he didn’t let it show.

“Night Guard,” Jeremy answered, voice clipped.

“He’s not technically hired on as a mercenary like you all, he won’t be joining you on missions,” the short woman apparently named Miss Pauling (Jeremy was fairly sure it was a fake name) said, hands folded in front of her neatly. “He’s here to work security. Keep an eye out during the night, filter through the camera footage, handle the archiving, things like that.”

“We’re hiring on a civvie now?” asked another man, thick Scottish accent a little harder to digest than the eyepatch and the grenade he was in the process of fiddling with the internal mechanisms of.

“He’s combat ready, and will still be armed. His job is to essentially make sure you’re all safe enough to sleep through the night,” Miss Pauling said.

“I’m not some chump,” Jeremy agreed. “I know my stuff.”

“How old is he?” another man asked, this one in a hardhat with a heavy drawl, looking concerned.

“Twenty, for your information,” Jeremy said, a little sharply, eyes narrowed.

“If you have any other questions, there’ll be time later on. For now, I do need to show our two newest recruits where they’ll be staying,” Miss Pauling cut in.

There was an audible scoff from one of the men at the table, a dramatic rolling of eyes. Jeremy glared at him. He unfolded and refolded his extremely tattoo’d tree-trunk-like arms, tugging the visor of his hat between. “Sorry,” he said, accent thick and distinctly Californian. “I just don’t have the most trust for some scrawny kid in slacks and creep in a ski mask.”

“Scout, don’t start,” Miss Pauling warned.

“Just saying,” this man, apparently called Scout, muttered under his breath regardless.

“Don’t,” she said again, more firmly, and ignored the second eye roll she got for the trouble. “If you two would follow me.”

And they were shown around the base, and Jeremy in particular was shown into a room stuck behind three locked doors, where he found camera feeds and recording equipment. She gave him a basic overview and a thick packet of instructions and policies labelled ‘highly classified’ and a phone number to call if he had any further questions, and a set of hours that were apparently meant to become the new standard for him (with the quiet addendum that if he finished early that was alright, and that technically he could turn in early if two or more members of the team were already awake for the day and he was caught up on the archiving of old tapes).

Then he was left to “get used to the equipment”, which he assumed meant his dad was getting a similar rundown of his job, and it took a pretty quick glance through the packet to understand that clearly this place ran on an extremely secretive and closely monitored series of systems. In the packet, between the sections on camera maintenance and operation hours, were a few sheets detailing what were apparently the movement patterns of the various members of the team, including frequented locations and previously recorded large-scale infractions (mostly on the part of the Soldier, the Medic, the Scout, and one from the Demoman).

He wasn’t the one with the title Spy, but fuck, it seemed like he might as well have it. His entire job wasn’t even necessarily to keep the team safe overnight—he was just meant to watch all of them to make sure nobody was anywhere or doing anything out of the ordinary.

The next time he saw his dad, waiting outside the infirmary to get some sort of physical evaluation, his face was arranged carefully enough that he could tell he’d figured out something was up, too.

“Got your job assignments?” he asked quietly in French, glancing towards the door into the infirmary.

A nod, a glance. “I’m intrigued by the methods used in employee evaluation,” he deadpanned. “Especially the fact that apparently, they’re willing to assign employees for the explicit task of doing them.”

“How often?”

“Weekly.”

“Thorough,” Jeremy deadpanned, and glanced towards the hall at the distant sound of laughter, echoing from somewhere else on the base. “That’s basically mine too.”

There was a long silence, and when Jeremy looked back over, his dad was giving him an almost expectant look, waiting. All he had to offer him was a shrug, which was returned after a moment with a vague shake of the head. “I don’t believe it will be a problem,” his dad said simply. “Not for us, at the very least.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. Uh, anyways, good luck with the… physical, or whatever,” he said, and received a pat on the shoulder before he walked back off down the hall, hoping to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do with an entire room all to himself. He’d almost never had one before.

He was used to time changes and jet lag, to needing to switch his sleep schedule on the regular, but the switch to a straight up night shift was a rough one.

His nine-to-five was actually a ten-to-six, as in 10 PM through 6 AM. This meant that, assuming he managed to get his schedule in order, he’d be able to join in on the team dinners if he woke up early and could eat breakfast with them before he went to bed.

Very quickly he realized that going to dinner and breakfast with the team was going to become a staple part of his routine, because it didn’t take long before he began to feel extremely lonely all of the time. In a dark little room, everyone else asleep, scrubbing through tapes from during the day while half keeping an eye on the live feed from around the base that never showed much of anything, it was brutal. It was suffocating.

It was easy, at least. It didn’t take long before he got efficient at it and could start zoning out, and it wasn’t like he was under much pressure. His was the only room without any cameras in it. Security risk, apparently.  And to be honest, what small amount he and Dad interacted with mercenaries and other criminal types, Jeremy didn’t really tend to like them much. A lot of them were loud and rude and had the potential to turn around and try and kill them whenever they felt like it. He didn’t expect that he’d like the team as much as he did. He especially didn’t expect to like them so much without ever really talking to them.

But watching the camera feeds from throughout the day, seeing what they were up to, they were just... nice people. Soldier out by the dumpsters practicing rocket jumps and wrangling raccoons and apparently trying to learn how to spin a rifle, Pyro’s regular minor explosions in the kitchen while cooking and the surprised and frantic way they cleaned it up every time, the Demoman’s tendency to whistle wherever he went, watching through the feed as they all played cards and argued and jostled each other. They all seemed really nice. Really cool. Really dorky, too, but mostly just really nice and really cool.

And there were a few of them he was less sure about—he couldn’t get eyes on the Medic most of the time, what with the one camera in the Medbay being tilted down at an angle that made it hard to see much of anything but the occasional bird (probably by those same birds). The Heavy tended to just sit and read, and was pretty much silent most of the time otherwise. The Scout tended to leave the base pretty often. And the Sniper didn’t even live on base, he had a van outside that he could only occasionally see movement in when he squinted at the far edge of the camera leading outside. But even then, Heavy and Sniper mostly just seemed quiet, and Medic just seemed busy, and the Scout just seemed like a little bit of a dickhead.

But then one day when Jeremy was at breakfast the Heavy caught him leaning to try to get a look at the cover of the book he was reading, and he blurted that he was just wondering what book was so great that he’d stay up until like four in the morning reading, and then the entire team was gawking at him and asking questions and insisting that it was insane that there was someone actually watching all those cameras, and he shrugged and said there was always supposed to be someone watching the tapes back it was just usually some office worker type a hundred miles away. And they seemed almost... upset with him. And maybe that was fair, it wasn’t like he ever talked to any of them much, mostly he just spent breakfast and dinner half-asleep and listening to their chatter. And Demoman admitted that he’d honestly assumed that Jeremy slept his entire shift, he just always looked so tired at breakfast. There was almost this discomfort. This distrust.

And so, now that the jig was up, he made it a point to say some things to certain members of the team. To tell the Medic that his camera was tilted down so that he couldn’t see most of the room, and to very pointedly say that it was weird how that happened and that he didn’t know why they set it up like that in the first place, but it was really none of his business. Made it a point to warn the Engineer in the morning that the previous night, Soldier had been doing something in the fridge for a while, and to maybe check the labels before he made breakfast. Made it a point to tell the Demoman that the camera in his workshop was right in plain sight, and that if he moved one of his blackboards an inch or two to the left, it would obscure the room a pretty hefty amount. Made it a point to tell the Sniper that the camera on the rooftop seemed to be glitching out, and it’d just sort of lost the tapes of the previous two nights, and that it was really unfortunate since for all he knew there might have been someone ignoring the signs about there being no personnel allowed up there.

In return, he found that Pyro would sometimes make little sparkly notes with smiley faces on them and stick them to the door to the security room. That Sniper started tipping his hat at the camera above the door into the base from the garage. That on occasional drinking nights, the team would suddenly turn and start waving at the camera, laughing the whole way. On one night in particular he could hear through the low-quality and tinny speakers that they were trying to cajole him into leaving the security room for a while to join them for cards, and god, but he wanted to.

And he noticed more things. Soldier walking with a slight limp some days when rocket jumps had rough landings. Being able to count the doves in the infirmary and even tell them apart to some extent through blurry close-ups. The Engineer making it a point to sweep really regularly regardless of what project he was working on.

And then he noticed a weird thing.

It took him a long time to get used to the patterns of hallways, the cameras not really lined up linearly after a while, too many branching paths. He learned to follow progress, to flick from one camera to the next as someone walked around corners. And for a while he thought maybe he wasn’t very good at it.

Until he realized two things. First of all, that in a hallway where he knew there were five doors, he could only see four—apparently the door to Pyro’s room was just barely out of sight of the camera. He only figured it out because one day it swung open wide enough to almost bang against the wall.

And then, when he realized there was somehow that massive blindspot, that there was a corner with a blindspot too. One where that Scout kept disappearing.

He watched a few more times to make sure, and yep. He’d see the Engineer walking around the corner, flick to the next screen, and there he was, continuing down the hallway. And then later that same day, the Scout, walking, and flick to the next camera, and he wasn’t there.

One of the worse parts of the job was that he never got to see Dad anymore, never got to just sort of hang out the way they did all the time when he was growing up, and he knew he would miss it but he didn’t know how much. And he found it was even worse when he had something important to say, doubly so when he had something important to say but no idea if it was actually important.

He tried to bring it up casually, in the like ten minutes of time he ever got alone to talk to Dad. Dad was fighting the kettle trying to make some tea and he was trying to stay awake long enough to figure out how he was going to say this.

“Uh,” he said, and Dad looked at him. “So, uh, what’s the read you’re getting on that Scout guy?”

“Lazy,” Dad shrugged, looked back at the kettle. “Arrogant. He seems to care very little about doing his job correctly and has horrible communication on the field.”

“Right, right,” he nodded, fought a yawn down. “Uh. So like, kind of a dickhead.”

“Indeed,” Dad said, nodding vaguely.

“So uhhh... not the best.”

“Where are you going with this?” Dad asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I, I dunno, the guy just likes hanging out in this one blindspot in the cameras, and it’s kinda freaking me out,” Jeremy said, scratching at the back of his neck.

Dad frowned. “Strange. I wasn’t aware that there were any blindspots in the cameras.”

“There’s only a few, and only for pretty small spaces I think? But apparently he just likes hanging out in one of them.” Jeremy scuffed his shoe on the ground, glancing over as voices started echoing down the hall towards them. “Just thought it was weird.”

“I’ll look into it,” Dad muttered, voice quiet, and then raised it again slightly. “I refuse to keep up with sports.”

“C’mon,” Jeremy said, knowing this game well, changing subjects into something more normal as people entered earshot. “I’m not even asking you to keep up with sports, I’m just saying, I’d kill to go to a baseball game right about now.”

“The American Pasttime!” Soldier called from the room over.

“Exactly,” Jeremy agreed, nodding at Soldier as he also entered the kitchen, a half-asleep Demoman in tow.

“Any ghosties or ghoulies on the cameras last night, lad?” Demo had enough energy to ask, blinking blearily at the contents of the fridge.

“Oh, a billion,” Jeremy said.

“Guard!” Soldier barked, the most awake person in the room. “Should these ghost-ghouls appear again, don’t be afraid to point me in their direction! I have significant experience with them already and do not fear the likes of them!”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shrugged.

“You’re a champion, Guard,” Demo said with what was either a really disoriented blink or a wink, slugging him on the shoulder and wandering back out into the common room with the entire carton of milk in his other hand. Jeremy gave him a mock-salute that Soldier copied with absolute conviction. He and Dad shared a glance after the two of them left, and Jeremy was the first one to break, snickering under his breath.

“I’ll look into it,” Dad said, and also left the kitchen, and Jeremy nodded and started trying to remember what else he’d been planning on doing before bed.

“So,” Dad said a few days later, materializing next to Jeremy when he was in the middle of his jog and making him almost jump out of his skin, skidding to a stop.

“You’re enjoying that new watch way too much,” Jeremy panted, out of breath and still very much startled.

“Maybe,” Dad said, and he was smiling. “But as I was saying.”

“All you said was ‘so’,” Jeremy pointed out, giving him a look.

“There’s a juvenile joke here about how I’m your father and so of course I say ‘so’, but if you wouldn’t mind it, I did have something important to say, mon lapin,” Dad replied, and Jeremy rolled his eyes hard at the horrible joke and cheesy name, fighting back a smile of his own.

“Go for it,” he said, and took the opportunity to bend and tighten his shoelaces.

“So. Regarding that Scout and his habits. You mentioned he spends time in blind spots of the cameras, oui?” Dad asked.

“Yeah. Keeps, uh, I guess he keeps getting infractions for going off base too much, too. I’ve logged him leaving like three times this week already,” Jeremy nodded.

“Indeed. Well, considering how new we are to the team, I did not want to jump to conclusions, and so contacted Miss Pauling and asked on your behalf for any older records, and I found out something very... intriguing.”

Jeremy looked up at him, blinking. ‘Intriguing’, historically, had always been a very, very bad thing.

“Apparently, it has been two years since they last had a Guard situated on base. The previous one was a much older gentleman, retired from being a full member of the team due to health complications but not entirely ready to part with the company. The previous guard was somewhat strict, and the Scout—the same as we have now—very much disliked the man. He continued acquiring near-constant infractions under the man’s watch for leaving when he was not meant to, so much so that the previous Guard proposed enstating trackers on the team when they went off-base. And before this policy could take hold, the previous Guard left the base one day and did not return, and finally was found dead a state over, one month later.”

Jeremy blinked once, twice. “Holy shit,” he said, and took note of the wary look on his face. “Okay. So we’re thinkin’ the same thing, right?”

“I would assume so. And…” Dad hesitated, moved to fidget with his cufflinks. “And I would not be particularly concerned about this, as I’m confident that you wouldn’t have gotten his attention from what you’ve been up to lately, and therefore wouldn’t be in danger yet should history attempt to repeat itself, but… he’s already taken a disliking to you.”

“What?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“I believe it’s something as simple as some sort of shallow jealousy. Another American on the team, also relatively young, filling the position of someone he disliked previously. He regularly complains about the fact that you don’t need to go do the same job as the rest of us.” Dad shrugged, glanced over at him. “That, combined with the fact that you have somewhat conflicting duties, well, he tends to rather tetchy. He claims that considering he’s meant to be the first line of defense, they shouldn’t also need a guard at night.”

Jeremy had a number of opinions about that, but he stuck to the most relevant ones. “I really don’t like this guy,” he said. “Might be, uh. Worth keeping an eye on.”

“Agreed.” Dad glanced back over his shoulder towards the base, then at his watch. “Enjoy the rest of your run. Don’t forget to eat.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, hit the bricks already, old man,” Jeremy scoffed, waving him off, and Dad rolled his eyes, disappearing again in a cloud of smoke. “You’re gonna be using that thing all the damn time now, aren’t you?”

“Oui,” came a voice from nowhere, and Jeremy huffed a laugh, meandering his way back into the rest of his jog.

Jeremy hummed along to the radio, flicking between cameras on autopilot and wondering when exactly to take his lunch break.

He didn’t face the clock or anything, so he wasn’t sure, but he thought he had a pretty solid rhythm at that point. Click, click, click, between the camera to the road, the camera to the main entrance, and the camera in the hall towards the middle of the building, for about one second each. At just about any time after 11 or 11:30, those were the only three in real time that he needed to keep an eye on, mostly for people coming back late from bar hopping or if Miss Pauling was rolling in on a delivery. All the other cameras he could see out of the corner of his eye, and any movement he’d pick up on pretty quick, even if it was usually just the doves fluttering on the camera to the Medbay. After he cycled through those (and there was almost never anything there) he’d cycle back through to the tape he had in, put it on high speed, and watch it for about two or three minutes, get through a chunk of that time. Mostly he’d just be making sure nobody had been in the base while the team was away ni o(which indeed there never was), so there wasn’t much of a reason to take it off high speed, and the second part of the night would be watching the tapes for the time the team was back on base.

Movement on a camera made him click the pause, and he glanced off to the side. One of the doves had shuffled to face the other direction. He rolled his eyes, looking back at the bigger monitor again and pressing play.

The second half of the night was a little more interesting. He just had to look at the tapes for the time the team was there, check for discrepancies that might point to Dad messing with the disguise technology off-the-clock or the enemy Spy having infiltrated. For the most part things were straightforward, but he at least got to see his teammates up to funny things sometimes. Pyro’s antics were usually entertaining. Soldier he only caught some of, on the basis of him often walking off out of range of the cameras when he went on his excursions. Demo was funny sometimes. Honestly, just seeing the Sniper anywhere but as a fuzzy distant shape was interesting.

Movement on a camera. Same dove. He ignored it. Click, click, click, all three cameras clear, back to the fast-forward of the same empty hallway as before.

He really needed to figure something out, for the Scout. Maybe he and Dad were just being paranoid. It would be insane for him to try to outright kill anyone who inconvenienced him, not to mention reckless, and stupid to boot. Acting like that in their line of work would make him a lot of enemies extremely quickly. It would make more sense for the old Guard disappearing to be unrelated, to be honest.

Yeah. Hell, he barely knew the guy, and here he was assuming he’d straight up whacked a guy for getting a little too on his case about something. Maybe they were wrong.

Movement on a camera. He glanced over and froze outright.

It took him five seconds to come to his senses enough to pause the playback on his screen.

Figures. Shapes. Not at the front entrance, in the hallway, there next to the back way, by the garage. At least three, moving carefully, hard to make out in the darkness.

Okay. Okay, don’t panic, focus.

Jeremy ran through a few things in his head. He’d already done a headcount, the only people he wasn’t sure about were the Sniper and the Medic, but he hadn’t seen the Medic in any of the hallways out of the infirmary. Three figures were two too many to be any of the team, and besides that, they didn’t look like the Medic. Too short to be the Sniper, moving differently. Different clothes.

Three people. He hopped up, rushed over to the wall, yanked open the panel he had there. Three buttons, which he needed to hit in order. The first would send an alert to Miss Pauling, the second to whoever was assigned to be on alert that night, the third would set off the alarm.

He hit the first, hit the second, and hesitated on the third.

Okay. Technically if he didn’t hit that third button, he’d be breaking protocol, which was, according to the manual, ‘grounds for termination’. He was pretty sure that meant a long swim with some concrete shoes. And it was apparently recorded every time he hit these buttons, so they could deduct from his pay on false alerts. So they’d know if he didn’t hit this third button. He needed to think fast.

This was a different button than the alert button. The alert was more subtle, set for just one person. The alarm was throughout the entire base, over every loudspeaker. Louder than a fire alarm. If he hit this one, these intruders would hear that there was an alarm going off. Anyone smart would book it, high tail it the hell out of there. But he still didn’t know where they came from.

There hadn’t been movement on any of the screens, and he looked at the camera feed facing the road already, a few times even. He should’ve seen them. And if they found their way in once, they could do it again.

If he didn’t hit the button, on the other hand, whoever was on alert would wake up and wonder why they’d gotten an alert but the alarm wasn’t going off. If they were clever, which they probably were if they’d lasted this long, they’d come to the security room to see what was up and they could work from there.

He closed the panel again and moved to wait.

A minute later, still no movement from the hallway where most of the rooms were. That was fine, they’d just woken up, and probably needed to get dressed and grab their guns.

Another minute later, no movement, which was fair, they just needed a second to get their bearings. The intruders, meanwhile, were just lurking, slowly making their way down the hall.

Another minute later, no movement, and he opened the panel to press the button again before he continued waiting. Maybe they didn’t hear him the first time.

Another minute later and he took to standing next to the panel, mashing the button rapidly, eyes on the screen where the intruders were passing the kitchen, starting to get pretty far into the building.

Another minute later and he stomped his way into his sneakers, grabbing his flashlight and gun and guard cap from where they were hung on the wall. “Fine, I’ll fucking do it myself,” he grumbled, and carefully shouldered open the door, taking one last glance at the camera before he shut the door behind himself.

He kept his footsteps quiet, squinting into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to finish adjusting as he crept towards where he’d last seen the figures. It was near-silent in the base at night except for the distant, quiet hum of generators and occasional shift of plumbing. It was getting more and more familiar, and he found himself able to tune it out somewhat, instead listening intently for footsteps besides his own, making sure to click the safety off his gun while he was still alone and not when he was close to whoever had decided to break in.

Okay. Dad did this all the time. He could handle this.

He slowed as he approached the corner near the kitchen, peering around as carefully as he could, tugging down the brim of his cap to try and hide any potential shine from his eyes. He caught sight of a vague shape standing near the doorway, hesitating before it crept inside, into the common area.

Not ideal, on the basis of that being their goddamn kitchen, but at least there would be cover.

By the time he managed to sneak up to the doorway, he could make out the sound of vague whispering. It was far enough that it gave him the boldness to peer into the room, and just slightly lit by the glow of the clock on the oven he could see two shapes there in the kitchen, the third lingering nearer to him, there by the table.

Jeremy was only just starting to make a plan, relieved to have the jump on them, when there was the distant sound of a generator humming to life, and all the figures stopped, paused for a moment.

“Fucking spooky here,” one whispered, barely audible.

“Calm down,” another whispered. “What, scared of ghosts?”

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, shifted onto the balls of his feet and started creeping a little further into the room. If he could just get all three of them to one side, so he wouldn’t need to pivot so much…

“You don’t know, maybe there’s ghosts here,” the first protested, and swore quietly at what sounded like their winging their elbow against the corner of the tale, and Jeremy tried to stick near the wall, managed to creep half-behind one of the chairs, trying to keep his silhouette indistinct. “These guys kill people.”

“So do we,” the third mumbled, moving out of sight in the kitchen, and Jeremy bit down on a swear, starting to inch behind the couch. “Don’t be a coward. And stop making so much noise.”

“You can’t shoot a ghost,” the first pointed out, moving a bit closer to the kitchen, giving the table a wide berth now. “Or punch it.”

“I can try,” the second said, and stopped at the sound of a rustle.

Jeremy held his breath, weight half-balanced against where he’d tried to step, newspaper trapped beneath his foot.

“That one wasn’t me,” the first whispered. There was another, more significant rustle throughout the room, and Jeremy could see a glint as the intruders drew their weapons.

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, and just barely managed not to swear out loud.

The first one was the closest by, lingering beside the arm of the couch Jeremy was crouched in the shadow of. “Do they have a cat here?” they asked, voice quiet.

The second was approaching into the main room more carefully. From the sound of the footsteps, trying to keep a shoulder closer to the wall, clearly paying more attention to the door. “Are you stupid or something?” was the reply, voice also quiet.

The third didn’t speak, but huffed out a laugh, which was enough to tell Jeremy that he was out of the kitchen.

Jeremy inhaled shakily, exhaled shakily, shifted his grip on his handgun and flashlight, and took a split second to think. Inhaled one more time.

He leapt to his feet, swinging his flashlight like a billy club and clobbering the first figure across the side of the head, sending them tumbling to the ground. From the sound of the impact, a dislocated jaw at the very least. One down.

A shout from the other side of the room, arms moving to try to aim, clearly struggling to see him, but that third figure was in the doorway, silhouetted against the faint light from the oven’s clock, and that was enough to figure out where the head and chest were. He aimed, fired, got what he was pretty sure was the neck considering the brief spray of blood that splattered against the oven, darkening the room completely.

A swear from the second figure, and Jeremy wanted to swear too, because he’d hoped that second figure would be stupid and try and charge him, but now he was ten steps away and didn’t have time to fiddle with and cock the gun again, other hand full with a flashlight and no way to—

Oh, duh.

“Stay where you are,” the second figure ordered, but Jeremy’s eyes were a little better adjusted and besides that, he wasn’t the one talking. He lifted his flashlight and clicked it on.

The second figure cried out, recoiling at the sudden blindingly bright light in what had been near-darkness, and Jeremy had time to finagle his thumb up to cock his gun again, now able to aim with absolute accuracy, this shot connecting with the figure’s head.

He exhaled.

It took Jeremy two minutes to remember to fire a bullet into the chest of the unconscious guy, and another minute for the other mercenaries to start showing up, half-dressed and armed. Dad, presumably to prove a point, showed up pretty close to the middle of the pack almost fully dressed. Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure how long it took before Miss Pauling showed up, but he wasn’t even halfway through their questions by that time.

“Guard, headcount?” she asked before she even bothered saying hello, still wearing her motorcycle helmet and looking more than a little bit miffed.

“Uh,” he said, eyes drawn away from where Medic was assessing the bodies on the kitchen table, “seven present and accounted for. Sniper’s probably out at his van, don’t know about the Scout.”

“Alright. Pyro,” she said, and Pyro stood at attention, bunny slippers squeaking at the movement. “go wake up Sniper and get him in here.”

Pyro nodded, handing their weird unicorn plushie thing to Jeremy as they passed by, giving him a solemn nod before hurrying away.

“Okay. Guard, hit me with a rundown, then,” she said, and shot a glance around the room. “No peanut gallery needed. And Medic, please don’t take them apart too much. I gotta get rid of those later.”

“Uh. Spotted these guys on the cameras, hit the first and second alerts,” Jeremy said.

“And not the third?” she asked pointedly.

“They were, like, right next to the door, and—here’s the thing, Miss P, is I dunno how the hell they got in here,” he said, and there was a general balk from the room. “No, seriously. They didn’t come in on the main road, they were in one of the back hallways by the garage. There’s gotta be a hole in the cameras or something, because I seriously don’t know where they came from. And if they booked it, they’d take whatever vehicle they used to get here, too, and we might not figure it out. Thought I’d just wait for whoever the hell was supposed to be on alert so we could… I dunno, at least see which way they went.”

“Guard,” she admonished, and he shrank a little bit. “That was incredibly reckless. What if nobody had shown up to help you?”

“Uh,” he said, blinked, “but… nobody did show up.”

A pause. She blinked. “What? You’re the one who did that?” she asked, entirely shocked, pointing towards the three bodies on the table.

“Uh, yeah? Isn’t that my job?” he asked carefully, shifting the stuffed animal under his arm.

“No, you’re—you’re just supposed to be the Guard, you’re supposed to watch cameras, not—“ She paused, taking a second to push up her glasses and rub at the bridge of her nose, inhaling, exhaling. “Okay. Points for… going above and beyond, here, but Guard, don’t do that again.”

“Sure thing, Miss P,” he mumbled, tugging on the brim of his guard cap, and sighed to himself as Miss Pauling moved away to try and stop Medic from attempting to covertly steal a few organs from the corpses. Dad clapped him on the shoulder supportively, and that did make him feel a little better. He wasn’t expecting a clap to the other shoulder, and looked up, surprised to see Heavy there, looking just slightly less grim than usual.

“Little Guard man is credit to team,” he said simply, solemnly.

Jeremy straightened up slightly. “Oh. Hey, thanks,” he said. Heavy nodded at him.

“It’s true,” Demo called, and he looked over, got another approving nod. “Really saved the lot of us, lad.”

“I, I mean, hey, it’s… what I’m here for. Or, uh. I thought that was it, anyways,” he shrugged, glancing away. “I mean, yeah, I’m pretty cool, though.”

Dad bumped his arm for the last part, and he snickered. “My question,” Dad continued, doing his best to ignore him, “is primarily regarding who, precisely, was supposed to be present to help Guard with this. Who is meant to be on alert?”

“It’s meant to be Scout, ain’t it?” the Engineer asked from nearby, frowning. A general murmur of agreement. “Could he have slept through it?”

“Heavy doubts this,” Heavy grumbled, looking troubled.

“Why’re we awake?” asked Sniper from the doorway, and various teammates called out a greeting. Sniper seemed half-gone, and completely grumpy, but not as grumpy as Pyro, and not nearly as gone as the man leaning heavily against Pyro’s shoulder.

“Hey,” the Scout managed, grinning, speech garbled, visibly sloppy and unbalanced. “What’s up, guys?”

Groans from parts of the room. “Drinkin’ again, Scout?” the Engineer drawled, visibly irritated.

“That’s my trademark, lad, go on,” Demo laughed, but the enthusiasm wasn’t entirely there.

“Scout,” Miss Pauling said, voice firm in a way that made Jeremy almost flinch in sympathy. “Are you aware that we’ve had a situation here while you’ve been sleeping?”

“Weren’t sleeping,” Sniper murmured, and eyes turned to him. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Came stumbling in ‘round when I was heading in. He was out for the night. Bar, looks like.”  “What?” Jeremy demanded. “Why the fuck didn’t I see him leave on the cameras?”

“Alright,” Miss Pauling said, and Jeremy looked at her. Her expression was hard to read. “It’s possible he went through the back tunnel.”

“Back tunnel?” Jeremy asked, and glanced around. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard of it.

“For emergencies only. Scout’s the only one who I’ve given a key card to. I have one too. It’s supposed to be used for transporting especially sensitive information, most of the team isn’t supposed to even know it exists. If there’s a gap in the cameras around the back of the building, he might have been using it to… sneak out to go to town, even though he knows he’s already in hot water for leaving the base so much,” Miss Pauling said, glaring at Scout, who was looking increasingly annoyed.

“Whatever, it’s not a big deal,” he protested, scoffing.

“That tunnel is for emergencies only,” Miss Pauling stressed. “I trusted you with the privilege of knowing about it account of having worked here for so long, and you’re using that privilege and key card to mess around?”

“He was coming back from around the front of the building, at least,” Sniper chimed in, and Pyro nodded. “Not that I’d understand the point of sneaking out if he’s going to just walk back in the front door.”

“Key card?” Medic repeated from near the table, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, it’s, it’s a magnetized card, that can be read by a card reader, used like a key,” Miss Pauling explained, deflating a little bit.

His eyebrows furrowed further. “Would it happen to look anything like this?” he asked, picking up a lanyard from the table and holding it up, showing the room the card clipped onto the end of it.

Two beats of silence. “Spy, would you mind?” Miss Pauling asked politely, nodding towards the Scout, who had gone pale.

“Not at all,” Dad said just as politely, and walked over towards the Scout and Pyro, then circled around behind them, and sank a blade into the Scout’s spine. He promptly crumbled to the floor, dead.

“Well. At least that’s that mystery solved,” Miss Pauling sighed, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose again. “Now I’ve gotta block off time tomorrow to get rid of three bodies, and then hopefully that’s the last we’re gonna hear of this or else the Administrator is gonna kill me.”

“What about the Scout?” Heavy rumbled.

“…Scratch that. Four bodies,” she mumbled, face dropping into her hands. “And then I need to find his replacement. Ugh.”

“Can’t imagine you’d need to go far,” Demo said, and Jeremy looked up, and Demo was very obviously tilting a thumb in his direction.

“He’s proven himself to be better at this job,” Dad agreed, shrugging. “And I would say on a bad day he’s still a better runner than the previous Scout on a good one.”

“He can clearly handle a firearm well,” the Engineer noted, looking over one of the bodies.

“And a blunt object,” Medic chimed, just a bit too pleased. “This jaw is almost completely shattered!”

“Okay, okay, fine, sure,” Miss Pauling waved off, one hand still pressed to her face, clearly overwhelmed and tired. “We’ll get his paperwork in tomorrow. Congratulations, you’re the new Scout, any questions? Can the questions wait until morning? Great, thank you. Good night, everyone. Medic, have the bodies in bags for me at least, okay?”

A distracted thumbs up from Medic, and Miss Pauling was groaning, wandering back out of the room, and most of the team followed, yawning amongst themselves. Sniper half-attempted to ask again why the hell any of them were awake, but gave up halfway through. Pyro, for one, made sure to at least retrieve the plushie from Scout’s arms before wandering off, giving him an appreciative pat on the shoulder.

“So,” Dad said, and when he looked over, he was smiling. “A promotion, mon lapin. Congratulations, new Scout.”

“Do I gotta wear that stupid outfit he always wears?” Jeremy asked, entirely serious. His reply was a laugh and a pat on the shoulder before he disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Pops, I’m serious. Do I? Dad!?”

“—So that’s why I figured, y’know, might as well tell you guys,” Jeremy finished rambling, hands in his pockets, continuing down the hallway. “Because… I dunno. I could tell Miss P, but it’s nice having secret stuff, y’know?”

“You think this is how they actually got in?” Demo asked, looking dubious. “Little blind spot in the cameras?”

“Only a couple feet wide, you said?” Sniper grumbled.

“Sounds possible,” Heavy said hesitantly.

“I dunno. Maybe. But if I tell Miss P about it, they’re gonna fix it,” Jeremy shrugged, turning the corner and stopping. “There. I knew it.”

They stopped with him, following his line of sight. “You’re takin’ the piss, mate,” Sniper deadpanned. “You want to tell me he’d been climbing out a window like a teenager?”

Jeremy shrugged, moving to open the window in question. It swung open easily, just large enough to push through with only a little bit of a problem, barely needing to turn his shoulders. “He’s not much bigger than me, and what the hell else would he be doing here?” he pointed out.

“Heavy cannot fit through that window,” Heavy deadpanned.

“Yeah. Sorry, big guy,” Jeremy apologized, leaning back inside and closing it again. “But hey, mystery solved, right?”

“Well, if I ever need windows to climb out of, now I know just the lad for the job,” Demo said, nudging him. “Thanks, Guard. Or, er, Scout. Och, now that’s going to take getting used to, aye? Might just stick to calling you ‘laddie’, laddie.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he laughed, nudging him right back. And as much as they ribbed him for it, he did see a kind of appreciation there. Just like he’d figured, they seemed to take note of him taking their side and not just Miss Pauling’s.

Now he just needed to switch back over to the day shift.

#father-son bonding au #dad!spy #tf2 #team fortress 2 #shut up me #my fanfiction #everybody talks #really happy with this one even if it took Way Too Fucking Long

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sicjimin · 3 years

Note

omg !!!! your taekook fic was the best in the world !!! an idea if you accept suggestions hehe could be kook dealing with a very bad flu that does not let him eat or makes him nauseated and tae super worried as always

A.N : aaaaaa thank u somuch for liking it !! andd since we're still in jungkook's day here we go ~ short and sweet sick preg!jungkook with taehyung ... i hope u like it and does justice to ur expectations ! :D thank u for the idea as well its adorable TT

TW : emeto, mpreg

At first, Taehyung thought it was usual morning sickness—when he woke up and his side was cold and not long after he heard someone retching from the bathroom. He stretches his body, trying to collect his soul before he slides into his slippers and walks to the bathroom. He could still hear Jungkook vomiting from inside. The sound of vomit filling the bowl is loud against the silent night.

He knocks on the door. "Kookie?”

When Jungkook doesn’t answer him, he pushes the door open slowly and finds the younger boy slumped over the toilet. His stomach seems empty but he didn't look like he'd stop anytime soon. Jungkook's face looks flushed and feverish while holding a wet towel. It looks like he's been sick for some time now.

Taehyung takes the towel away from Jungkook and wipes his face with it. It feels cold against his skin, which was hot just moments ago.

" Hyungie ..", Jungkook croakes out. Spitting thick saliva and wipes his lips before he let his body slumped against the younger.

Jungkook’s eyes are glassy and he is sweating profusely despite having just woken up.

"How long have you been here?"

"Dunno ...", Jungkook mumbles, voice shaky. " Hyung .. i feel dizzy"

Taehyung nods as he pulls Jungkook closer to him, rubbing his back softly, "Maybe it was because you just throwing up baby, are you done?"

Jungkook only mustered a low hum, too tired to open his mouth further without wanting to gag.

Taehyung flushed the toilet, and slides his hand on Jungkook's waist, securing it as he guides the younger back to bed. Jungkook was already out the moment his body touched the sheets. His expression scrunched, like he holding back pain. Taehyung tucked him and retreat to the kitchen, preparing his anti-emetic medicine from their doctor, crackers, and tea for his boyfriend when he wakes up.

"Hyungie ..", he heard Jungkook's weak voice from the bedroom when he returns to their room. Stretching his arms, waiting for the older to join him in the bed and snuggle close to him. Jungkook looks so small, drowning in Taehyung's hoodie.

" I'm here baby, let's sleep again", Taehyung whispers soothingly as he wraps an arm around the younger. And Jungkook nods, closes his eyes immediately.

Taehyung kissed the top of the younger’s head and places another kiss on his forehead. He watches him sleeping peacefully before pulling the blanket higher over Jungkook.

🌡🌡🌡

He didn't remember how long since they drifted off to sleep, but he wakes up with someone shaking his body urgently.

"Taehyung ... hyung!", Jungkook calls out frantically, tears glistening from his eyes, the result of him holding back the urge to vomiting again. " Hyung- hmmpph", his stomach lurch. He clamped his mouth, breathing heavily as one of his hands still trying to waking up the older.

"Kook? What is it?", Taehyung finally opens his eyes, confused.

His mind felt foggy, but its wide awake the moment he registered the younger's state in front of him.

" Kook? Are you okay? What's wrong?", Taehyung sits up straight.

The younger was hunched over and clutching his stomach with one hand and other to clamped his mouth.

"Want to puke..", Jungkook chokes out. " But i'm too dizzy to move—", he stutters before a wet gag wracking his body.

"Hyung ..", Jungkook cries out as he feels warm liquid shooting up to his throat. He didn't want to make a mess on the bed but the whole room is tilting in his vision. He's sure if he tried to run he would faint.

Taehyung hurriedly grabs the nearest bin and placed it in front of his boyfriend, that immediately hunched over it, gurgling up his stomach content.

Taehyung rubs the younger's back, trying to comfort the latter as much as possible while Jungkook heaved.

"Taeh-uuurrkk", Jungkook retched, brown liquid spurting from his mouth, coating tissue and stash of snacks inside the bin.

" Oh gosh, some of it got into your hair, baby", Taehyung murmurs, his hand moving to grab the latter hair back and hold it back. "Let it out, Kook-ah. You'll feel better soon", he adds, rubbing his boyfriend's back and shoulders with one hand.

" Uurrkk-", Jungkook continues to vomit, his body convulsing with nausea. "Hyunggg—" he moans, lifting his head from the bin to catch the fresh air. The smell of his stomach content didnt helps his nausea at all.

Taehyung can see the sweat running down Jungkook's neck and his cheeks flushed red with every passing second, contrasting with his pale face.

"I'm here baby ..", Taehyung murmurs, kissing the top of Jungkook's head. He runs his fingers through the other sweaty hair gently.

" I feel horrible", Jungkook whines, before he groans as his stomach twist once more, sending him back to the bin with a mouthful of vomit plopping from his lips.

He keeps vomiting until nothing comes out. Taehyung holds him tightly in his lap. He strokes the younger's hair and presses kisses on his temples, forehead and cheeks until he calmed down, exhausted and panting.

"You alright?", Taehyung asks, brushing off stray hairs from his face. "Better?"

Jungkook shakes his head no, "Everything hurts hyungie ..", he says, leaning his head forward and resting it on Taehyung's shoulder. His hand curling protectively over his bump, rubbing it lightly hoping that it would stop sloshing nausea.

"I know baby, i'm sorry you feel bad", Taehyung coos. "Can you take your medicine? The one that they gave you if you have bad morning sickness?", he asks, placing a hand behind the younger's head to pull him closer.

Jungkook nods, feeling lethargic and exhausted as well as nauseous.

Taehyung scoots away, placing the bin next to their bed for him to clean later, and grabs the tea along with medicine.

" Here" Taehyung holds them both out to him. Jungkook takes one medicine at the same time with the help of tea before lying back down, letting the pill settle in his stomach before Taehyung tucks him in again.

"Rest up baby, i hope you feel better once you wake up", he mutters. " Do you want anything to eat later?"

"Mhm .. pancake?" Jungkook mumbles out sleepily, blinking lazily at Taehyung.

"Okay babe, wait until your feeling better then". Taehyung kisses his temple and squeezes the younger's hand tightly between his own. The young boy smiles before he yawns loudly before closing his eyes.

🌡🌡🌡

To say Taehyung is panicking is an understatement. He was in a double panic, as he for the fourth time today rubbing Jungkook's back as his boyfriend hunched over the toilet and throwing his food up.

" Hyung .. this is not morning sickness", Jungkook mumbles weakly when his stomach gave him a break. He sniffles as he looks at the murky water below him, his half-digested pancake had morphed into a chunky mess.

"I know i know baby. I think you caught a bug. You're growing fever", Taehyung replies, combing through the younger's bangs, wiping his face clean of drool and spit. The boy shivers, feeling slightly sick, still a bit nauseous.

" Am i?", Jungkook questioned, letting his head rest against the cold porcelain. Ignoring how gross it might be. It's cold. It feels nice. He groans when Taehyung takes his head away, and letting it rest on the older chest. "You are burning up"

"Mhm", he hums tiredly, "That explains how horrible i felt ..", Jungkook mutters lowly as he nuzzled his nose onto Taehyung's shirt.

" But our baby will be alright .. right hyungie? i feel sorry because i can't keep anything down .. the baby must be hungry", Jungkook mumbles , squeezing Taehyung's shirt as tight as possible.

Taehyung's heart clenched at the sight. It's broken even more when he feels warm liquid seeping on Jungkook's cheeks. He didn't know if it's because of his feverish state or his pregnancy hormone messing things up, but he hates looking at his cheerful boyfriend as weak and vulnerable like this and he only can help much.

"They will be fine baby. Now lets get you rested again, okay? We can try to eat a little. Baby step. Are you done here?", Taehyung sighs softly, hugging Jungkook to his chest.

"No.. still want to puke—huuurghh-", Jungkook croaks out after gulping a few times, and propped himself up just in time as water and bile spraying from his pale lips.

He lets out another whimper, and throws up one last time before emptying what little remains in his stomach into the bowl.

Taehyung rubs the boy's back soothingly.

" Hyungiee .. i feel gross .. and sick ...", Jungkook whines.

"I know baby .. you will feel better soon", Taehyung answers as he tucked his boyfriend back in.

"If you're not getting any better tomorrow, we're going to the doctor, okay?", Taehyung whispers.

" Hmhmm.. okay hyungie", Jungkook mumbles. He closed his eyes and snuggled closer to Taehyung's chest. He feels really warm and sleepy, as a side effect of all that vomiting.

Taehyung sighs when Jungkook's breathing has become steady in and out. He fishes his phone up and walks outside slowly, before pacing around, waiting for the other line to pick his calls, "Jin hyung!!", he almost shouts, relief rushing through his blood when his hyung pick up, "Help me, Jungkook is sick he keeps vomiting and i dont know he seems so weak and cant keep anything down i dont—"

"Taehyung-ah .. breathe ..", Seokjin interrupts with worry laced in his tone.

"I just need something to help him!", Taehyung exclaims, holding the phone to his ear, desperate. " I dont know what to do hyung ... what should i do?"

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #sick!jungkook #caretaker!taehyung #and again another mpreg fic

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vakta · 2 years

Text

a little update about what/how i am doing lately . . . .

to put it short: my therapist and my parents dont let me go to school or stay in my dorm so im staying at home for a few weeks (at least); should be recovering, but i dont rly have the motivation to do so, and my digestive issues make it even more difficult

to not put it short:

so im not allowed to go to school bc i badly relapsed. its not a recent thing, ive been slowly loosing weight since october, when after an actually really seriously-taken but still failed recovery attempt i kind of lost my hopes for full recovery. (i can still imagine it in the distant future tho... but to actually start doing it now.... ehh..)

one of the reasons bc of which i have failed is the pain which comes after eating a decent amount of food, a bigger meal, or even smaller amounts of foods that i avoided for a long time. i got fed up (lol) with this, and decided that i would pay attention to eat less to avoid being in pain afterwards.

not a great idea, my friends, not a great idea.

it works in the short term, but it only makes your stomach even more sensitive, and shortly you can barely eat without pain, your damn safe foods start becoming scary, and you just spiral spiral spiral deeper and deeper and deeper into this.

and yes, you loose weight but at what cost?? (i think this applies to any ed that results in weight loss tbh) the weightloss was one of the reasons my parents noticed that something is wrong with me again (or still, rather)

the other reason was the stress. i had become so so stressed bc of this, and not only this, bc school, oh my beloved, just cant fucking chill. what makes it even worse is that there are only 1 and a half years until university and i seriously need to make decisions in relation to my future, but i never find the time for this with the every other thing that is going on at the same time (looking at my biology teacher.. but also no, he actually cares about me i think; im just a perfectionist who takes everything personally, even if it is directed on those of my classmates who dont study shit and dont even care, and not me who literally learns every damn letter for his tests) also i have an upcoming chemistry exam in spring which i also didnt have the time to really start preparing for.

the dorm was just the cherry on top, with all those skinny girls, and the ones who could never not mention their diet or weightloss or even just be quiet during the 'silentium' (the compulsory study time in the dorm). my roommates were always having fun, noisily, happily, while i was sitting at my desk, barely keeping myself together, so so angry and so so SO jealous of them who could enjoy their time. which i didnt have. unerstandable though, they are attending different, less strict schools and/or are 2 years younger.

so living in that dorm and going to school was draining my time and even more my energy, my mental space, my sanity even, and i was spiraling, like badly.

im honestly so grateful for my parents for not letting me stay in that hell for any longer. i have been at home since last friday, and i honestly enjoy it a lot. i have much more time now, i can sleep enough and study without rushing. it is nice, i could even try solving a few chemistry exam sheets from the previous years and it actually went well!! im really glad :D

though ed-wise im not doing so good. the digestive issues are the biggest problem rn. being in pain for hours after a meal just discourages me from eating tbh.

my parents made some rules: i mustnt do any exercise, only a little yoga (less than an hour daily, just twice a week allowed to be an hour long), and i mustnt walk for longer than 30 mins. i think it goes without saying that i can easily break the time-related ones, but at least while doing so i know im not supposed to do that, and i stopped exercising which is progress in itself (not huge but hey). there arent any eating related rules. yet. i say this bc my mom always checks my weight in the mornings when shes still at home when i wake up, and she tells my dad, who will soon get really angry if i dont gain any. he is already angry for my complains about my stomach pain, he says he is never not in some kind of pain (he is 50) so really i should just get used to it. but my mom told me he had told her he thought i should see a doctor with this, so actually he does care about me a lot, he just cant communicate it. me coming home was his idea too. he cant stand seeing me destroying myself and he only wants the best for me, i know that.

i can only stay at home for 4 weeks (with this one) otherwise i have to repeat this grade. or decide to be homeschooled from now on. this wont be an easy decision.

all in all, ive been trying not to worry much in the past few days but soon its time to think about what i plan to do in the future. and i should do something about my stomach too, it cant keep going like this. so, a lot of things to do, but at least im in a calm, supportive environment now (my mom is the one who is always there for me and im super super thankful for her). idk what will happen, i hope things fall into place.

i dont rly expect anyone to read all of this, it was just nice to type it out, but if you did then congratulations now you know my current struggles more than anyone irl!!!! (okay maybe except for my mom, but still)

#vakta long posts

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bwingus · 3 years

Text

Striker helps asher get home.

(This was an rp between me and @nightmares-and-preys . They also made the cover art. Check them out :3)

(Also, just a warning. Striker acts way different than he does in helluva boss. Hes nicer, and says things that contradict the cannon. Keep this in mind while reading this)

Just another day.. iiis what you'd think before the worst possible scenario happens to ya.

A teen was walking into their home as some of their siblings grabbed and dragged them off into their mini library.

"Guys, what the hell!?"

"Shush, You need to help us! We need you to read this spell for us" The sister said.

It made them confused but they nodded. "Alright..? What is it-"

"It's just a shrinking spell, We want to see if it actually works on this apple here."

"Uh- okay.." They stared at their siblings before starting the spell. It was going well until the brother knocked into them.

It made them mess up the words. "Eh!? D-damnit, Brot- w- WHATS GOING O-"

They had immediately vanished before their siblings eyes.

Next thing they knew, They felt a scorching hot pain.

The teen shakenly stood as they looked around. A horrific, desert like hellscape in front of them.

"What the hell..? Is- I-iiyy- Why is everything so big-" They winced before covering the bright red light from their eyes. "W-where am I!?- what's that loud noise-" They froze before looking back at the flaming horse that was approaching quickly. "O-oh hell!!" They jolted before fleeing from the horse's path. Catching a glimpse of it's horned rider.

"I-im in hell..!?"

Striker had been riding his horse, bombproof, when he smelt something extremely interesting. He smelt a human. "Now how in satan's name did a human get into hell?" He thought. He looked around, but didnt notice anything. That was until he saw something small, and human shaped run across the ground, and hide behind a can. So the human was small. Extremely small. He smelt the rank smell of magic aswell as the humans scent. They must have been teleported here, and accidentally shrunk themself in the process, or the other way around. He hoped off of bombproof, and then took a few careful steps towards the can. He didn't want to scare the human away. He was rather hungry, and this could be his next meal. Once he was about 2 feet away, the small human peeked out form behind the can. He could see the fear in their eyes. But somehting was different. This human looked young. Like, in their teens young. Now, if theres one rule striker had, it was that he didnt hurt kids, and he counted teens as kids. So right then and there he decided that he was gonna help this kid. He took one more step, and then decided to talk to her. "Hey, kid. Could you come out from behind that can? I want to help you, but I'll need you to come out form behind there." He said in the nicest way possible. "H-how do I know I can trust you?" She said, peeking out from behind the can. "Well, I'm the only person around for miles, and haven't tried to kill you yet. That's pretty trustworthy when it comes to hell." He told her, hoping that would convince her. "O-ok." She says as she walks out from behind the can. "Just stay there hun. I'll come over there and pick ya up." He said as he walked over, and gently picked her up. Once he had her at chest level he set her in his flat palm. "So, how did you even get here in the first place?" He asked her. "Well, my siblings wanted me to test a shrinking spell on an apple, and one of my brothers bumped me and made me mess up the spell. I guess it caused a shrinking and teleportation spell." She said sadly. "Oh I'm so sorry hun. I know a way to get ya home. Itll just take me a bit to get there. So, I need somewhere safe to transport you..." he said as he checked for anywhere he could hide her. If he hid her in a pocket, other demons would catch her scent. There is one other place he knew he could hide her, but he knew she would absolutely freak out if he put her into there. "Hey kid, do you trust me?" He asked hesitantly. "S-sure I guess. Why do you ask?" She asked, slightly frightened. "Becuase, I'm about to do something that will break your trust..." he says as he shoves her in his mouth. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. He licked her around with his snake like tounge. He could feel her struggling, and could hear her begging to be let out, which made him feel like shit. Once she was slippery enough, he flicked his head back, and swallowed all of her in one gulp. She continued to squirm and shout even while going down his throat. The squirming actually hurt his throat. He felt her pass his collarbone, and then plop into his stomach. He felt her bang in the walls, and then heard her scream. "Please let me out of here! I dont wanna be in a demons stomach all day! It stinks in here!". That was unexpected. He thought she was gonna be scared of being digested. But it seems she just doesnt wanna be in his stomach becuase it stinks, and she just doesnt wanna be in there. Interesting. "I'm sorry kid, but that's the safest place you can be. If I had you in a pocket, another demon would have smelt your scent, and taken you. I'd rather not have that happen." He said as he rubbed the bulge she made in his belly. "Also, whats your name kid?" He asked her. "You can call me ash. What's your name?" She said. "The names striker." He answered. He then felt an extremely odd feeling. He could feel her rubbing his belly from the inside. He blushed and then started to purr. "A-alright kid. I best be getting ya home." He said as he hopped back on bombproof, and made his journey to I.M.P.

Time skip to when striker gets to IMP

Striker stopped bombproof in the parking lot, and then stepped up to the front door of the building. "Well, this isn't gonna end well..." striker said nervously. "What's wrong striker?" She asked. "Well, the guy who can help get you home, well, me and him have some bad blood." He said with a sigh. "W-well, what did you do?" She asked, slightly scared. "Well, I tried to kill his boyfriend, and tried to kill his employees." He said nervously, as he hoped that wouldnt scare her. "O-oh. Alright. Well, why did you do that?" She asked. "Well, I was hired to kill his boyfriend, and his employees got in the way. I'm tryin to make amends though." He said as he walked into the building, and made his way up to blitz's office. He peeked inside, and saw blitz sleeping at his desk. He opened the door, and walked up to the desk. He didnt know how to use the magic book, so he would have to wake blitz up. He shook blitz's shoulder, trying to wake him up. It seems it worked, as blitz slowly opened his eyes, and said. "Oh hey striker... wait STRIKER!?! WHAT in the FUCK are you doing here!?" He yelled as he pointed a pistol right at strikers stomach. "I wouldnt do that if I were you blitz." Striker said with a menacing snarl. "I got a human kid in there, and I'm tryin to get them back to earth. And i need your help to do it." Blitz lowered his gun. "Wow striker, I didnt think you would stoop low enough to eat kids. But I'm guessing your asking me to use the grimoire to teleport the kid back?" He said as he went and grabbed the grimoire, and started flipping through the pages, looking for the spell. "Mhm. That's exactly why I came here. I would have used the book myself, but I dont know how to." He said as he scratched the back of his head. "Well, I'll be in the meeting room, getting the spell ready. You should probably spit her out." Blitz said as he walked towards the door. "Before you go blitz, you should get a growth spell ready too. Shes currently tiny." Striker said as he started to cough, trying to spit her up. "Sure thing." Blitz said as he walked out the room. Striker eventually spits her into his hand, and miraculously she was sleeping. He carrys her into the meeting room, where blitz is standing on the table holding the book, which was currently glowing. "I got those spells ready. Can you give her to me?" Striker hands blitz ash, and then sits in one of the chairs. "Also, just so you know striker, I'm only doing this for the girl. Once shes back home, I won't hesitate to kill you." Blitz said as he activated the growth spell. "I know that blitz. I'll be leaving once shes home anyway. Now, let me wake her up" he walked over and shook ash awake. "Mornin sleepyhead. Your bout to go home. Blitz, get the portal ready for her." Blitz opens the portal, and it leads to ash's house. "Welp. It's your time to leave kid." Blitz says. "Hold on now. I need to say goodbye." I hop on the table, and give ash a big bear hug. "I'll see ya later kid." Ash gets up, and then walks towards the portal. Before she walks through it, she waves to striker and blitz. "Bye you two!" And then she walks through, and then portal closes behind her. Striker walks towards the door, as he remembers what blitz said to him. "Welp. I guess I best be leaving." He whistles, and bombproof bursts through the window. He hops on bombproof, and then smashes through the door, rinding off back to the wrath ring. "Oh come the fuck on!!!! I just had all this fixed!!!" Blitz yells out.

The end.

#striker #safe vore #helluva boss #im literally simpimg for striker rn like huhhhhhhh

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witchcraft-in-wonderland · 4 years

Text

Poor Little Anxious Crybaby (Pt.13)

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

Virgil seemed to be spending more and more time with Remus and Roman, not that anyone involved minded this change. But it wasnt the only thing that seemed to be changing.

This was the third week in a row in which Virgil seemed to be kept up for most of the night by dreams he couldnt understand. Sometimes he could make out the shapes of rabbits cats or mice, but rarely could he understand them.

"Maybe you just wanna be a mountain lion, I mean mountain lions could literally get away with ripping someone limb from limb, I'd wanna be a mountain lion," Remus said, running his fingers through Virgil's hair as Virgil lay across the couch.

"What I don't understand is why it would be waking you up, I mean, it's not like being a mountain lion is generally upsetting, right?" Roman said, pulling the hem of his sweater over his knees.

"Yeah. . . ." Virgil said, burying his face in Remus' stomach.

"Careful there bud, I gotta use that to digest stuff," Remus said, letting out a cackle as Virgil blew a raspberry against the skin.

"Well we dont need to focus on dreams now, anyone up for a game?" Roman said, shaking a controller.

"Ooohhh! I'll order pizza!" Remus said, bolting up off the couch. Virgil let out a whine at the loss of contact as his head landed on the couch pillows.

"Aaaawwweee, sorry Vivi, I'll come back in a little, but can you give me your order, Ro? You're usual?" Remus said, looking at both boys in turn.

"Cheese,,," Virgil mumbled.

"I'm not hungry," Roman said, bringing his legs closer to his chest. Remus seemed slightly upset by the response, but simply nodded and went to call the pizza place. Virgil moved closer to Roman, who draped an arm around him.

"Roro?. . ." Virgil said quietly.

"Hm?" Roman leaned his head on Virgil's.

"When we get back to school are you still gonna have to be friends with 'You-know-who' are you?" Virgil said, he hadnt thought about the kids at school for most of the summer, but it was nearly September, so the memory was slowly creeping back in.

Roman sat there for a few seconds, rubbing circle's into Virgil's back.

"I dont know Vivi. . . He's not exactly easy to get away from y'know?" Roman said sadly, Virgil buried his head in Roman's shoulder.

Virgil had known Inigo since they were kids, and they had never been friendly. But since becoming friends with Roman, Virgil had learned of even more reasons to despise the boy.

"I hope he and Brennan get together," Virgil muttered, casting a distinct glance at the sewing kit on the coffee table. Roman let out a soft chuckle, burying his head in Virgil's hair.

"That can be arranged," Remus said, sitting down next to the pair and draping himself across Virgil's back.

"Guuuyyyssss- you're crushing meeeeee," Virgil said, pouting.

"Not my fault you're so tiny," Remus said, resting his head in the crook of Virgil's neck.

"I'm only 4'8!" Virgil whined.

"Tinyyyyyy~" the twins chimed in unison.

Virgil had to admit that the feeling was nice, he was warm and happy, and for once in his life, he felt safe.

He and the twins spent a good portion of the day beating the crap out of fictional characters in a video game and stuffing their faces with pizza, Remus had taught Virgil how to make a volcano out of melted metal and an ant hill, much to Roman's distress.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow ok?" Virgil said as he stepped out the door to go home.

"Did you have fun kiddo?" Patton said as Virgil walked into the kitchen.

"Mhm," Virgil smiled as he rested his head on the kitchen counter.

"Dont forget to take your medication before dinner Virgil, I'm hoping the doctor will be right about it helping you sleep easier," Emile said, setting the bottle down next to Virgil.

"I wish they made this stuff in liquid form more often- how do you take all your stuff so easily?" Virgil said, raising an eyebrow at Emile.

"Its hard for me to, but usually if I take the water first and slip the medicine in after it's easier because it's already floating," Emile said, shrugging.

Virgil thought on this for a moment before nodding slightly. Virgil liked Emile a lot more than he'd first expected, of course sometimes he was a little different, but usually he and Virgil could just sit on the couch and talk about cartoons, and Virgil could even tell him about his nightmares without getting scared.

Of course there were some things he still didnt know about Emile, but if Patton or Emile didnt want to tell him things, he wasnt about to ask for information he shouldnt need.

Settling down for bed that night still felt bad, but Virgil didnt mention it, he didnt want to bother anyone.

Virgil awoke in a patch of soft grass, which upon closer inspection, seemed to be more of a dull teal color than the green it ought to have been.

"There you are! We've been looking everywhere for you!" Said a voice, Virgil looked up to see what looked to be a girl with white rabbit ears, wearing a waist coat and khaki shorts, a boy with a hat, a tux, and hair that varied from shades of brown and blonde on one side, and various other colors on the other, between the two was a girl with brown bunny ears, her outfit seemed to be an attempt at formality which only ended in the tattered remains of what could have once been a met gala dress.

"Who are you?-" Virgil said, sitting up and shaking his head slightly in confusion.

"Aaawww, you dont recognize us?" Said the brown bunny.

"Well of course he doesnt! When's the last time you saw him at the tea party! I mean look at his clothes! Hardly appropriate for such a special event." Said the man with the hat. Virgil looked down at his clothes, he was still in his pajamas.

"Come on- we have to get you dressed first, I cant imagine what would happen if we brought you to the king dressed like that!" Said the white rabbit, dragging Virgil off the ground and marching toward a small house on a hill.

It seemed like hours before the mission the three people seemed so set on completing was finished, and by the end of it Virgil found himself in a dusty purple dress with white sleeves, a black bow and buttons on the chest, white lace on the skirt hem, white stockings, and black boots. If he was being honest with himself, he'd never been happier to look at his reflection.

"Well come on then! The king is waiting for you!" Said the boy with the hate.

"Now hold on a second- I dont even know your names, how am I supposed to trust that you'll take me to the right place?" Virgil said.

The three figures in front of him exchanged glances.

"Hes right you know, I'd never trust someone without a name,"

"I made friends with a nameless person once, they stole my cat,"

"But if we give him our names outright then it's no fun!"

Virgil looked between the three of them in confusion, waiting for the conversation to end.

"Ok, we wont tell you our names, but you can guess them," said the boy with the hat.

The white rabbit stepped up first, she mimicked placing a crown on her head, and then mimicked a sword being pulled from something and swinging it around.

"Well- it cant be Arthur, you dont strike me as an Arthur- so is it. . . Gwenivere?" Virgil said, the girl shook her head but made a motion of begging him on.

"Gwendolyn?" Virgil said.

"You got it!" Gwendolyn said excitedly, clasping her hands together and bouncing from foot to foot. She stepped back and allowed the second rabbit to take her place.

This one held out two fingers first, dropped one, and began to imitate what seemed to be waves.

"Waverly?" Virgil said, the girl nodded and held up two fingers again, proceeding to drop them and hold up a full hand, pointing to calendar that had floated down from the ceiling.

"Waverly-Mae?" Virgil said, the girl nodded and spun on her heel to walk back next to Gwendolyn.

"And that leaves me for last I suppose," said the boy with the hat, making a sort of disappointed face to the girls as he walked up to Virgil. He mimicked both a face that Virgil would describe as angry, and one he would describe as having a few screws out of place.

"Mad?" Virgil said, the boy nodded and kept going, placing one finger on either side of his head and digging his foot into the ground.

"Maddox?" Virgil said, tilting his head. Maddox smiled and nodded.

"Well now that you know our names, you'll have to meet our king!" Gwendolyn said, grabbing Virgil by the arm and rushing off.

It took ages for them to reach what Virgil believed to be the palace. It was large and black with red and green accents along the sides, this left a sinking feeling in Virgil's chest.

"I present to you, his most gracious majesty, King Rhea!" Gwendolyn said, backing into a line with several guards dressed in red and white. Maddox and Waverly-Mae fell in line with the knights in black and green.

Virgil looked forward, in front of him and sitting on a throne was a man who shared much to many similarities with the twins to be comforting.

Though one eye was green and one eye was red, and rather than red or dark brown hair, his was black and white, but he still had the same smirk, the same demeanor Remus and Roman had when out on the town.

"So glad you could finally make it, your excellency," said Rhea, now turning his head to look at Virgil.

"I-" Rhea held his hand up, Virgil's mouth closed almost immediately.

"I know what you're going to say, and you are absolutely correct, you are not royalty, you are something much more important,"

Virgil woke up in a cold sweat, and it wasnt until he looked at himself in the mirror that he realized, he was still wearing the very same dress as before.

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Tag list:

@frawkeye

@meowthefluffy

@thefivecalls

@luna--28

@deathcanbegreat

@willowaudreykeyes

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@melodiread

@cemmy

@pricklyfish777

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ithisatanytime · 3 years

Text

Vegetables are fucking bullshit. im not gonna proofread this, but if you want to lose weight this is literally the only thing besides surgery that will work and its not even hard at all i promise, this was not inspired by me being disgusted with fat women, as everybody knows im down with the thickness. not fat though, there is a wider range for men then women believe, but i guess they are mostly just trying to compete with each other (i dont actually believe this for a second, it is for men its just a subconscious instinct, manifesting consciously as a desire to compete or look good) i added this long as disclaimer because this is a lifelong interest of mine, i always talk about it, but i dont want some poor girl to read it and think i want her to go on a diet you are beautiful just as you are, but at the same time i didnt want past relationship girls to see me saying i was down with the thickness and think they were heavy, only one was heavy

Dont get me wrong, i like vegetables, but they are honest to god a fucking scam. vegetables are CHEAP, especially grains and cerials, to be honest grains are less bullshit than leafy greens, but they are still kind of bullshit. you are made of fucking meat, thats what you are, all the stuff you need or pretty damn close, is found in meat, vegetables are mostly insoluble fiber, very low in calories, which despite what you have been led to believe is not a good thing. its nice to have a little roughage in your diet, but the idea that we should be eating primarily plant based food is fucking insane, and i suspect is a result of the sugar companies years long propaganda campaign against fat. for years they funded studies claming dietary fat or cholesterol caused fat to accumulate on the body, and cholesterol in the arteries, we have known since the seventies that these claims were false, but the propaganda campaign was so extensive, even doctors commonly fuck this up. you cant digest plants on your own, you need to recruit gut bacteria to ferment it in your bowels, in other words it rots in your guts making you bloated and gassy, all for just a tiny bit of calories, its ASS, because no one can live that way, your diet is failing because you arent eating enough meat. meat is food, its real food. no fucking animal would go through the trouble of evolving the necessary intelligence and hardware needed to have to KILL every single meal, if it wasnt so much better than the fucking grass and leaves that are everywhere, and grass is much easier to catch and kill than a gazelle,so why bother? because the gazelle is food, its made of the same building blocks you are, you are made of meat.

Meat is much more readily digested in your body than plant matter, people think that meat constipates you and ive seen people say it sits in your gut for years, the opposite is true, meat is digested quickly and efficiently leaving behind almost no waste material whatsoever, meaning you arent pooping because you arent making poop, meat is digested almost completely where as plant matter is filled with fiber which passes through either completely unchanged or only mildly changed into a gel like substance in the case of soluble fiber. but heres the real MEAT of this post (heh) fats and proteins from animal sources (meat) are far more satiating than carbs from plants, meaning a hundred calories of animal fats and’/proteins will keep you full for longer, than a hundred calories of carbs, and i can prove it, a boneless skinless chicken breast has 284 calories (very little fat but high in protein) thats less total calories than two cans of mountain dew, how long do you think you could last after eating a chicken breast vs drinking two mountain dews? there are 250 calories in a new york strip steak, thats less than two potatoes, i bet you could last all day if you ate a new york strip steak for breakfast, a potato and a half without butter or anything? you would crash by noon.

Vitamins are fucking bullshit. as long as you get micronutrients into your body at some point, meaning you arent a third worlder who eats nothing but one kind of cheap food, you are getting vitamins, all of them, most of them and guess what, meat has literally all of the required vitamins your body needs in abundance, so long as you occasionally eat liver. but it hardly fucking matters, almost no one in the first world is seriously deficient in micronutrients (the vitamin d thing is bullshit, they miscalculated the requirements or there is some racial factor they refuse to aknowlege, because if fucking everyone is d3 deficient and doing just fine, then no one is. also d3 is found ONLY in animals, not in plants) its all about macro-nutrients FAT PROTEIN carbs, you are eating too much carbs, if you try to stop eating so much carbs you are going to fuck it up, i promise you, your body keeps track EVERY DAY, trying to maintain homeostasis, you will take one extra bite, you will measure your portions wrong, you will eat a whole goddamn cake because you are starving, your body is better at counting calories than you will ever be. so heres what you do, DONT TRY, if you have to try you will fail, you are working too goddamn hard, be realistic with yourself, a temporary diet is actually fucking meaningless, diets are for life. you cant sustain that horrible dumb ass bulshit girl magazines are trying to make you live on, NO ONE CAN, less than 6 percent of people who have lost significant amounts of weight will keep the weight off after a year. who the fuck knows after that as well, other than its certainly less than six percent. i am giving you the cheat code right now, all you have to do is take my word for it, do i seem like i spent years obsessing over this shit? because i have, heres the secret. all you have to do, nothing more, if you try to do more you are fucking up! all you have to do, is take your body weight, divide it by two, and try to get that many grams of protein per day, like your life depended on it, preferably from MEAT. preferably with fat! but honestly i dont fucking care. tbh if you are a girl, id shoot four 40-50 grams everyday, and heres the thing, please! do not go for lowfat, lean meats. you want meat with fat on it, preferably unprocessed, you can still eat hamburgers and sausages but dont make them the center piece of your diet, because they actually add fats in as part of the processing, you can stil leat it though, if you try to get your 40 grams of protein from lean meat like chicken breast alone, you will go crazy and quit, or you will just eat a bunch of carbs to make up for it. again, you want fat and protein. if for the next two months, you made it your goal to eat whatever the fuck you wanted (this is important) so long as you got 40 grams of protein a day, preferably from animal sources, preferably with fat, i promise you, not only will you lose weight like fucking crazy, but it wont even be hard at all, you will feel like you are fucking gorging yourself while slowly getting hotter. that being said, to us men, being hyper thin is not really all its cracked up to be, thats gay fashion designer shit, we like women to be soft, to contrast are hard muscular bodies.

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saltybaltic · 5 years

Text

Natasha Romanoff X Reader - INSOMNIA

Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow X FemReader Fanfic

Synopsis: Not being able to sleep at night isn’t always a bad thing when it means clearing the air. It’s soft Nat hours.

Warnings: Language

Words: 714

When you walked out onto the rooftop and saw her curled up in the corner of her chair, you almost turned on the spot and walked back inside. It was three o clock in the morning and you were already struggling with total exhaustion. The last thing you needed was what was probably going to be a tense and awkward conversation with the stoic assassin you called a team mate. She almost looked harmless from where you were stood watching her; her hair pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head, dressed in a pair of old sweatpants and a tank top and her legs tucked under herself while she focused on the book in her hands. Every now and again she would stick her tongue out the corner of her mouth in thought or brush a stray strand of hair out of her eyes as the wind blew it out of place and you found yourself watching her for longer than you would like to admit to anyone. Even after everything that had happened between the two of you recently, you still found her absolutely mesmerising.

Someone had suggested getting somewhere to relax on the roof top a long time ago and since then the team had been working on setting up a little, quiet spot they could use. Natasha had chosen to settle herself in the corner of a large chair swing, big enough to seat two or three people, and you couldn’t help thinking it made her look incredibly small and fragile.

Almost as if she sensed she was being watched, Natasha looked up from what she was reading and her eyes met yours. For a moment you panicked that she would be annoyed you had encroached on her time alone, but you quickly dismissed that and took a few steps closer to where she was sitting.

“Can’t sleep?”

Shaking your head at her question, you collapsed into the chair opposite her with a sigh before looking out over the city, “Occupational hazard I guess.”

Natasha nodded, throwing her book down onto the small table in front of her, “You can sit here you know, I don’t bite.”

“I didn’t wanna intrude.”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t really focusing on what I was reading anyway.” admitted Natasha, shuffling around until she was sat up a little straighter. Nodding to the spot beside her on the chair, she gave you a smile, “Sit with me.”

You didnt offer any kind of arguement, knowing that trying to fight Natasha on something was usually pointless, and as soon as you settled into the opposite corner of the chair, Natasha adjusted her position to stretch her legs out across you.

Silence settled over the pair of you for a while, focusing on the distant sound of the city traffic that you couldn’t help but find oddly soothing. Natasha’s voice eventually brought your attention back to her.

“You sure it’s just work? The reason you can’t sleep?”

Leaning your head back against the chair, you turned slightly so you could look at her properly, “Maybe it’s a few things ... couldn’t switch off I guess.”

“Anything you wanna talk about?”

There was so many things you wanted to say to her but for some reason you shook your head in response, patting her legs reassuringly with a small smile, “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve really gotta work on that.” muttered Natasha, resting her elbow on the back of the chair and looking back at you, “You suck at hiding how you feel.”

You let out a sigh, looking down at your lap with another shake of your head, “Well maybe you could teach me since you’re so good at it.”

You visibly winced at your own words, but when you looked back up at Natasha she looked more amused than annoyed.

“I’m sorry that was really fucking bitchy, I didn’t mean t-“

“It’s fine.” interrupted Natasha quietly, “I’d say you’ve earned maybe one cheap shot.”

Nodding your head slowly, you chewed on your lip as you tried to think of anything you could say next. The atmosphere was a little frosty, although that was hardly surprising given recent events.

“Well if you don’t wanna talk ... do you mind if I say something?”

Your gaze drifted from where you had been staring off into the distance, looking back at the woman beside you and for the first time since you’d met her she seemed unnerved as she waited for your response.

“Sure.”

Natasha crossed her legs over where they were settled across your lap, and she opened and closed her mouth several times before eventually a nervous laugh rumbled from the back of her throat that seemed to cut the tension somewhat, “I’m sorry, I had like a million things prepared to say to you and now you’re here it’s like my brain has stopped working.”

“I didn’t realise I was so intimidating.”

You’d said it as a joke, but at your words Natasha’s face became more serious and she pursed her lips tightly before speaking, “I think that might just be our problem.”

“I doubt that.”

“One of the things I’ve liked from the beginning about ... us, is that we can always speak candidly with one another.” started Natasha, fidgeting absentmindedly with a stray thread on the back of the chair, “And so I don’t think it’s out of line for me to say that this ‘just being friends thing’ isn’t really working out for us, is it?”

Scuffing your toe against the ground to swing the chair back slightly, you couldn’t help but feel both incredibly uncomfortable but also overwhelmingly grateful that Natasha had actually brought the topic of conversation up, “I guess not, no.”

“I know it’s my fault.” continued Natasha, the corner of her lip twitching into the faintest trace of a smile, “I know ... I did this. And I made this decision and ... well, I’ve been a bit of an asshole really.”

Seeing that you weren’t going to argue with her, Natasha took that as her cue to continue.

“When you joined the team it was weird for me to get so close with someone so quickly. I spent years forming these relationships with everyone else and we’ve been through a lot together which is what connects us. But with you ...” trailing off, Natasha shrugged bashfully, “I didn’t expect to fall for you so ... easily.”

Blinking in surprise, it took you a second to actually digest what Natasha had said and you almost choked on your own breath in response, “You. Hang on. Wait. What?”

“I think you heard me.” chuckled Natasha, obviously amused by your surprise.

“But you ...” you frowned in thought, “You broke up with me.”

Natasha shook her head with a hum, “I don’t actually think we were together.”

“You’re not getting off on a technicality, Nat.” you huffed out, irritation getting the better of you and wanting to put some distance between the pair of you. Placing your hands down on the seat, you went to push yourself up from underneath her legs but before you had a chance to get too far, Natasha placed one of her feet against your chest and forced you back into place.

“Please don’t go. I’m sorry. Look, I need to say this, please.” Natasha kept her foot pressed against your chest until you relaxed back into your seat and tilted your head as a gesture for her to continue, “When we started ... well you know ...”

“Sleeping together?” you offered, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at the bumbling, nervous version of Natasha you were currently sat next to.

“Yes. That.” muttered Natasha, pointing her finger at you in agreement, “We both said we were going to keep it casual and not get feelings involved and just ... not make a big deal of it.”

Pushing your foot against the ground, you rocked the chair gently back again, “Yeah I know. We agreed we had to work together and live together and we didn’t want it getting messy. And then you dumped me because apparently it was ‘getting too complicated’ as you so eloquently put it.”

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek at your condescending tone. She wanted to be annoyed about the way you were speaking to her and if it had been anyone else, she probably would have launched herself at them. Unfortunately though, Natasha knew you had every reason to be irritated.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” admitted Natasha, “The only person complicating things was me and it was because I knew I was developing feelings for you. And then I just broke things off with you instead of talking to you about it and figuring this out together. Cause you know ... I’m an idiot.”

You breathed out a laugh “Well, you said it.”

Natasha broke out into a small smile, daring to reach forward enough that she could brush her fingers over the top of your hand, “I understand if you can’t forgive me or you don’t want to but ... I would really, really, really like it if we could start over.”

Turning your hand over underneath hers, you allowed her to trace her finger over your palm, “Is that so?”

“I miss you.” admitted Natasha, “I miss being around you all the time. I miss talking to you. I miss falling asleep with you. And you know, I miss the other stuff too ...”

As Natasha trailed off, you couldn’t help but chuckle quietly and grab her finger to give it a squeeze, “Natasha Romanoff are you blushing?”

“Shut up.”

Laughing again, you moved to grab her wrist and tug her gently in your direction, “C’mere.”

Natasha looked hestitant until you gripped her wrist harder and pulled her a little more forcefully towards you. Sitting up onto her knees, she shuffled over until she was sat pressed against your side. You sat up a little straighter so it was easier to run your hand along the back of the chair and wrap your arm around her, not missing the small sigh Natasha let out as she rested her head on your shoulder.

Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, the pair of you settled into silence for several minutes before you leaned in closer and spoke quietly, “Starting over sounds good.”

You weren’t able to see her face from where she was curled into your side, but Natasha’s lips turned up into a wide smile at your words. She wrapped an arm around your waist, somehow shuffling further into you and her fingers digging eagerly into your side as if she wanted to get as close to you as humanly possible. You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture, “And I missed you too.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #mcu fanfiction #natasha romanov #natalia romanoff #x reader #natalia romanova

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weareallfallengods · 4 years

Text

Flight from Grace Chapter 1 - A small stumble

The long-awaited complete 1st chapter of my WIP novel! I started this over 6 months ago and I’m finally getting into the swing of it.

Synopsis: What happens when a Fallen Angel with no memory of her own eternal past meets a woman who can see her for who she really is? A head on collision between the world as we know it and an eternal battle between the immortals tasked with safeguarding the mortal realm.

Grace can see things she shouldn’t be able to; after all, immortals have gone to a lot of trouble to make sure we can’t see them as they really are, so Something Has Changed, and she and her Fallen Angel will find out what’s going on, and why they seem to always be stuck in the middle of it all.

Themes: Angels and Demons, examination of mortality and our understanding of and belief in the supernatural as well as the eternal nature of existence. The battle between good and evil, and how no one is ever what they seem to be when we look past prejudices and social judgements. LGBTQ+, proper ethnic and cultural representation (read: most characters aren’t straight or white!).

Triggers: If you don’t like stories that put an often irreverant and sacriligeous spin on Christian mythos, this isn’t for you. LGBTQ+ romance, slow burn, non-explicit.

===================================================

“Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?”

Some neanderthal interrupted my deep contemplation of the double whiskey sour in front of me. Which was very rude. Whiskey sours demand your undivided attention and get cranky if ignored for too long. He should have known that, but either he didn’t know or didnt care, so either way- neanderthal.

He was leaning on the bar with the casual air of someone who has done this same dance too many times, the practiced ease of a used car salesman slapping the roof of a car. At least this one’s breath wasn’t too foul. Not that this hadn’t happened before. Oh no, I’d never been badly hit on in this bar like ten thousand times already. No that never happened. I was able to just sit in peace with my drink for the entire night. Yeah, right. Why do I keep coming back then, you ask? Well, Grace makes one hell of a whiskey sour for one thing.

“Hey, did you hear me?”

Ugh, this one wasn't going away with simply being ignored. Lovely.

“Excuse me?” I looked over languidly, with as much disdainful irritation on my face as I could possibly muster from the depths of my three-drinks-in soul.

“I said, ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

His stupid shit-eating leer didnt help my mood any. I wasn’t ever in a good mood if I showed up here, and that’s probably one of the reasons I kept coming back- assholes like this gave me a vent for my foul mood.

“No actually. It’s less of a fall and more of a stumble really. More like getting tossed out of a club by a bouncer than falling down the stairs. Couple of bruises, a minor scrape, more damaged pride than anything really.”

I could see his monkey-brain churning slowly to try and digest my response that didn’t fit his pre-programmed scenario. I half expected to see steam coming out of an ear. God, some men are just so... ew.

“Um, what?”

Apparently I broke him. Well, that happens sometimes, when I give someone a response they weren’t expecting. Which happens more often than I’d be willing to admit to myself.

“I said that getting tossed out of heaven doesn’t hurt as much as you’d think it would. It’s not that far of a tumble really.”

He chuckled, “That’s real cute darlin’, never heard that one before! How’s about you and me find a table so I can hear more about it? Maybe have a look at those bruises, make sure you don't need more…attention.”

Sweet Mother of Mikhail, that was bad. Like even worse than his initial pickup line. I almost had to respect his commitment to such a shitty way of trying to pick me up. He had some balls, that’s for sure, either from drunken stupidity or pure ignorant self-confidence. They say that bravery and stupidity go hand in hand, and here was their shining example.

“Believe me sweetie, you don’t want my 'attention’,” I said softly, for the first time raising my eyes to lock with his glazed gaze. “My attention can become very… uncomfortable.”

He started to smirk for just a split second, but when my eyes met his, both the smirk and the color melted from his face. His mouth hung slack as he felt his soul staring down the opening fiery abyss that he found reflected in my eyes. I watched his mind recoil in horror at the emptiness it saw as it tried futilely to pull back from the horror of empty infinity it was confronted with. I saw in his eyes the sudden awareness of how small and insignificant his place in the universe was, and shrink in horror, trying to flee internally only to find that there’s no escape from your own mind and the finality of human existence.

I looked away just as his eyes started to roll back in his head. No need to cause a scene with him passing out. After all, my whiskey sour was crying from being ignored. As they do.

“I think you should probably go home now Blake,” I demurred softly. “You’ve probably had enough, and your wife would be happy if you tucked the children into bed for once. Oh, and coffee won’t remove the smell of alcohol, so just have a peppermint. Your kids like that smell, reminds them of Christmas.”

He kind of half nodded, like a sleepwalker. I sighed. Hopefully he doesn't have an existential crisis later and just shrugs it off as being too drunk. Hell, maybe he’ll cut back on the sauce. I hate it when I hear about someone offing themselves after meeting me, especially if they have kids. Well, hopefully he just takes the daily inebriation down a notch or two. I can hope, can’t I?

As he shuffled off, lager forgotten at the bar, I hoped he’d be alright. Genuinely. Sure, I enjoyed taking my frustration at being stuck here out on them, but I didn't actually wish them lasting harm. A lesson or two in politeness and decency, a minor scuffle to break up the monotony, but no real damage. That’s what I told myself anyway. Made it easier to pretend to sleep at night. Hope he makes it home ok. Hope his kids get a happy memory of daddy saying goodnight for once. Hope he says he loves his wife, and apologizes. Hah. Yeah. Like that’ll happen. But, what can I say, I’m a foolish optimist at heart. And nothing hurts more than having your hopes crushed. I should know.

Damn. My drink was crying, a small puddle of condensation soaking into the bar napkin it rested on. Again. Another sigh. And one more for the first sigh. I hate sighing. It’s the most comprehensive sound of the acceptance of defeat ever created. The acknowledgment of futility. And I hate that. I thought I’d be fighting to the bitter end, but apparently Destiny had other plans. Fucking Destiny. She’s the whole reason I’m even drinking in the first place.

“Get you a fresh one?”

A sweet silver-bell tinkle of a voice broke my unintentional reverie. Grace was back, checking on me. She knew my peccadilloes by now. She knew how much I hated when my drink got watered down by the ice melting if it got ignored for too long. I nodded.

She smiled pleasantly and slid over a new drink, already prepped.

“I figured, after that creep pounced on ya.”

I frowned slightly. There was something different about this one. Hunh. Oh, the ice. There wasn’t any. There were two black cubes sitting in it instead. OK, why are there rocks in my drink?

I looked up at Grace, still slightly puzzled.

“Oh those? Yeah I noticed you didn’t like it when your drink gets watered down, so I bought some Irish whiskey stones! That way your drink stays cold, but doesn't dilute. Got 'em special, just for you.”

I cocked one eyebrow slightly, “Just for me?”

“Yep! Let’s face it, you’re the only one who comes in here with that kind of class, so I put 'em in the freezer back here with a big 'ol note so Jimmy doesn’t think I’m crazy for keeping rocks in the fridge,” her airy chuckle sprinkled across my ears.

I stared. I was in shock. OK, well maybe I’m being dramatic, but I was still surprised. People don’t normally do nice things for me. Or to me for that matter. If I’m honest, they mostly run away.

“Why…” I couldn't even formulate a coherent sentence. Jesus, get yourself together!

“I dunno, I just figured you don't seem like you have anyone looking out for you, and you seem to attract a lot of the wrong sort of attention, so I thought you could use a nice surprise, y’know, cheer you up a little.”

I nodded, more in surprise than agreement. I literally couldn’t recall the last time someone voluntarily tried to do something nice, just for me, no hope or expectation of reward or compensation. I was probably silent a little too long for a comfortable conversation. Hey, I was revelling in the new experience, cut me some slack.

“Well. Wow, um, thanks.” Yeah real smooth. Sweet Mikhail’s Grave I have no idea how to actually talk to this woman.

In retrospect, that should have been my first clue, but hey, I was a little distracted.

“I appreciate it, that’s really sweet of you.” Ok that’s slightly less glaringly awkward.

“Not trying to be rude at all, but I gotta ask- what’s your deal? Like you come in here all the time, lookin’ like a million bucks, never talk to anyone, get in fights every so often, get harassed like every single time but you keep coming back? I mean, I’m not trying to pry if you don’t wanna talk, but you know, like I’m totally trying to pry!”

Now it was my turn to stare slack-jawed. Oh Fates, how your twists are cruel. I closed my mouth a lot faster than the sot from earlier though, so my pride wasn't too damaged.

“It’s kind of a long and uninteresting story really. Mostly, you make the best whiskey sour. And the people here are…interesting.”

“Honey, there’s no way a story coming from someone who looks like that,” she waved generally up and down at me, “could possibly be boring. Plus, it’s slow, as always, so humor me.”

Sometimes, I can be kind of thick. Slow. Moronic. A nincompoop. A maroon. Several minutes of conversation with this girl and I only just now noticed- she hadn’t looked away from my eyes. She was meeting my gaze with no problem. She wasn't sweating and shaking and passing out. She was looking me right in the eye, just like a normal person, no fear showing on her face. No reaction at all. Just a normal girl, having a normal conversation, with what she thought was another normal person.

“Are…you OK?” Grace looked a bit concerned.

Aw shit, I was staring, and not even trying to hide it. Well now I felt dumb. And, why did I feel dumb? What was up with this girl that she made me feel so self conscious, so uncomfortable, like one of those fainting goats that just freezes and falls over when you blink too hard at them. Speaking of blinking really hard.

“Um, oh, yeah, sorry, I’m fine. Really. Sorry, just not many people actually want to have a real conversation with me.”

Grace leaned over the bar a little, propping up on her elbows, lowering her tone a bit. “Well, I don’t know why, 'cuz you sure seem hella interesting to me.”

“Hunh. Well, I don't know about that. But I would like to ask you something first, if you don't mind?”

“Fire away honey!”

“This might sound odd, but, why aren’t you looking away? What do you see when you look at me?”

She pulled a tiny bit closer. “Nothin’ more than just about the sparkly-est green eyes I ever seen; a dash of blue, like the Bahamas. Somethin’ else I can't quite put my finger on…” as she trailed off, I felt her finger lightly brush the knuckles on my hand that was still holding my drink. “I kinda wanna find out though.”

OK, now that was smooth. Holy fuck, that was really, really smooth. Like two hundred year old Laphroaig single malt filtered through the blessed socks of His Holiness the Pope smooth. Hold up, now she was trying to pick me up? What the hell universe? What’s going on here?

I swallowed, unable to look away now myself. “That’s all? Nothing that scares you?”

“Not yet, sugar.”

Alright, that’s different.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I grabbed her hand. Maybe a little too hard from the slight wince I saw.

“OK we need to leave. NOW.”

“Hold up honey, we were just talkin’, we ain’t there yet!” She tried pulling back a little.

“No, no, you don’t understand! I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t be able to see that. I can’t explain right now, but we have to figure out how you can see me that way.”

“But my shift’s not over for a couple more hours!”

“OK OK, I’m not being clear, sorry, this is the first time this has happened, so I’m a little shaken.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She actually blushed a little. “I just saw how you shot down every guy who came up to you, and I thought….well, you know, maybe…omg I’m sorry I didn't mean to upset you! I come on strong sometimes, when I’m interested in something, and when you first walked in, I saw those heels and that dress, and I just was like ‘oh wow’ and kinda couldn’t breathe for a minute, you know I don't see many girls come here lookin’ like that and oh God now I’m babbling and someone please shut me up I'm so sorry…”

I put a finger over her lips, gently.

“I’m not upset. Far from it actually. But we have something a tiny bit more urgent than that to address. I’m not who you think I am. Or what, I should say. But more to the point, there’s something bigger going on here. And I need to find out what. Fast.”

“Wait, so you’re not mad I hit on you?”

“We don’t have time for that now!” She recoiled slightly at my vehemence. “No, I’m not upset, but that’s not the point! You shouldnt be able to see my eyes. My real ones anyway. I was too slow on picking that up right away, and I’m sorry, but we have to get out of here, now, because something is different, and in my world, that’s never a good thing.”

“Your world?”

I was getting frustrated. “Yes, but I’ll explain later! I need you to come with me now. We need answers, and we need them fast. So, do you trust me?”

She hesitated. “Yeeeeees? I think? Like I wanna, but I don’t really know you?”

“Good enough for now! Let’s go!”

To her credit, she just dropped her bar towel, grabbed her phone from under the bar and came out from behind it, grabbing my hand as she yelled to the back, “Hey Jimmy! I gotta leave! Personal thing- cover for me?”

Just then, there was a bit of a commotion at the door. Grace turned to look, but I didn’t need to. I already knew what was there. I just clutched her hand even tighter and yanked her towards the back; there was an emergency exit near the bathrooms from what I remembered of that one really bad 'birthday’. Yeah, that was a bad one. But we ran.

Good thing I’m not super tall, wouldn’t want to draw attention, I thought to myself sarcastically. Goddamn heels. Why do I even wear these?

Sounds of glass breaking and shouting reached us as we plowed through the emergency exit into the alleyway. Don’t worry about that now, just keep moving.

“This way!” I pulled her to the front of the alley.

“Holy shit, that’s your bike?” She sounded genuinely impressed. Finally, I wasn’t the only one who had that reaction at seeing it.

“Oh yeah, she’s a sweet ride, and perfect for this situation. Or any situation, really. Jump on.”

I probably should have shut the door behind us, but hey, it was a day for me missing obvious things. The noise coming from the bar was getting louder.

“I’ve never done this before!” Grace exclaimed excitedly in my ear as I kicked my beast to life.

We roared out into the street, my white and gold Valentino’s left sparkling on the pavement where I kicked them. Fuckin’ useless, beautiful shoes. Sigh, they weren’t cheap. Oh well, they’re just shoes.

“Where are we going!?” Grace yelled over the rush of wind whipping our hair like tiny flails of purgatory.

“Not sure yet! But we’re going to find out!”

“I don't even know your name!”

My heart sank a bit.

“Don't worry! Neither do I! ”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The bar exploded behind us as it faded into the night thanks to the fabulous Ducati between our legs. Oh and that wasn’t metaphorical- I glanced in the mirror at the sound; it literally exploded. Ball of fire and all. I guess that’s to be expected, what with all the alcohol and what I’d suspected for a while was going on in the basement. Way too many flammable liquids in one place. But that didn't really matter now. All that mattered was getting away from what caused the explosion as fast as we possibly could.

“What the hell was that!?” Grace yelled in my ear. Again. I’m going to have to get some headsets or something if this is going to be a habit. Well, the riding together part, not the fleeing for our lives part anyway.

“I’ll explain as soon as we can talk, promise! For now, just hold on! And don't look behind us!"

“As if I’m gonna let go now!”

That glance in the rear view told me as much as I needed to know, which was more than I wanted, but enough to have an idea of what we were running from. I mean, I figured that’s what it was, but I’m still tired of being right, even after all this time. You’d think I'd be used to it by now.

That pale blue and red glow was enough. Hell, the noise it made had been enough for me to know what it was. And trust me, I was not overreacting by running first. I’d seen that color a few too many times in my life to think that there was anything else to be done except run. Once was more than enough for anyone. Who am I kidding? Most people don't get a chance to see it more than once. Guess I’m just lucky. Or the opposite. Pretty sure I’m the latter actually.

Grace was shivering on my back as we sped away. She’d gone quiet, her mood matching the night around us, the neon signs and street lights reflecting their multi-colored halos in the rain-slicked streets. Fog was starting to rise from the pavement, adding to the soft glow the streets were taking on. Thin, wispy strands curling around street lights and bus stops, blasted into nothing as the bike tore through them, the roar of the exhaust shattering the relative quiet of the late night calm.

Well, it should have been quiet anyway. The explosion of the bar kind of changed that. Then came the sound.

It mixed with the growing whine from the crotch rocket under us, which seemed like a fitting counterpoint to the cacophony of something that sounded like if you’d thrown a hundred maltese dogs into a tornado and then blasted it over a crappy school intercom. I hated that sound. Almost as much as the dogs it reminded me of.

“Aw shit, it saw us.” Time to see if the tires on this baby gripped as well as the kid at the shop claimed they did.

Well, at least there wasn’t too much traffic. Still, even though there weren’t many trucks and accountant-driven sedans to weave in and out of, there were still enough of them that it took a hell of a lot more concentration than my alcohol soaked brain was ready to deal with. Definitely hadn’t planned on being the next Lewis Hamilton after a night at the bar, that’s for damn sure.

“What the fuu….?” Grace’s expletive trailed off in the whipping wind as I kept us weaving in and out and through, gunning the shit out of my bike whenever there was an opening big enough to do so without turning us into extremely messy, if fashionable, pancakes.

“Try not to worry about it! OK I mean, yeah, worry, but not like understand worry!”

“How the hell do you not worry about...that!?”

I took a good look back for the first time as we whipped around a corner, using the rain-slick street to slide without losing any speed. My heart sank. At least it wasn’t in my throat choking me anymore. Sarcastic positivity in the face of death? Yeah that’s my jam. Even if I do keep it to myself. Most of the time anyway.

The damn thing was getting closer. Faster than I thought it could. Damn, tonight just wasn’t my night for noticing things, now was it?

That second of splitting my attention nearly sent us flying and a tired busboy standing at the corner bus stop to the hospital, but we only just missed him, with barely enough room to avoid slamming into the back end of something that should have been parked at a kids soccer game, not getting on the expressway at this time of night.

Slipping into an alley entrance, Grace’s nails dug through the flimsy material I was wrapped in, making me yelp in surprise.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

I was about to tell her it was cool, considering the circumstances, and given that I wasn’t sure if it made me jump because it hurt, or her hands were cold, or because of where they’d slid down to, when we blew out the other side of the alley, causing a literal postcard explosion from the stand I clipped as we bounced out on to the main road again, just in time to swerve hard to avoid becoming Penske poster-girls for a single truck.

"Sweet Jesus fuck! What the hell IS that?"

Goddammit, didn’t I tell her not to look back? I wasn’t going to tell her how the beast chasing us had seen us dart down the alley, and since it couldn't fit through the traffic as neatly as we could, silently charge down the side of the building, slamming into the same shop front that had so recently lost it's postcard stand as it tried to take the same corner, still snuffling the ground and air to track us. I managed to gain us a few precious seconds of lead as it disentangled itself from the fruit cart, re-launching itself down the alley, bicycle wheel still caught in it's whiskers that streamed and whipped behind it.

“It’s running fucking sideways on the buildings!”

Aw shit. She can see it. I was afraid of that.

And that was all the distraction it needed too.

With a last spring off the corner of an empty flower shop, the beast took a massive swipe at us. Come on, come on, make the corner! It's thick talons cut a blazing arc through the rain as it howled. One of its claws caught the rear end of the bike, knocking it heavily to the side, and nearly throwing Grace off. Good thing she’s got a death grip on my hips right now. Oh boy don’t think of that, too distracting right now, that’s how you get killed!

Grace screamed again as the bike was whipped around violently from behind, and Grace she was confronted with a vision not even her wildest nightmares could have come up with. At least, I hope she doesn’t have nightmares like this anymore.

The beast’s jaws opened wide to crush us like a nutcracker on adderall, glowing drool whipping around in thick, viscous strands from teeth bigger than my hand, while she seemed mesmerized by the halo of tentacle-like whiskers that seemed to float in slow motion, despite how fast everything was happening. The beast looked at me, it’s eyes burning red meeting mine as I tried to maintain my grip on the bike that was rapidly being torn from my hands. I was holding on to that tank with my knees in a way that would have made the Russian Women’s weightlifting team proud. I could hear the scream that tried to jump from Grace’s mouth only for it to turn into a slow rush of soundless breath as she slammed into my back from the force of me yanking that bike around as hard as I could possibly manage.

Ground. Street. Tires on. People off. Stay upright. Don’t let go. Run.

The bellow from the beast behind us meant nothing to me now. I was numb, my world narrowing to the few feet in front of me, and Grace behind me. Swerve. Dodge. Car. Bike. Red light. Faster. Green. Faster. Faster. Get away. Car. Car. Bus. Turn.

Suddenly the cars all dropped away. The turnpike. Oh thank God. I opened up the throttle all the way and finally realized I should probably start breathing again.

Grace was trying to yell something, probably wanting an explanation. I mean I can’t blame her, but I said I’d explain! Did it look like now was suddenly the time for it? Then again, maybe it was important.

I turned my head a bit to try to talk to her, but I paused with my mouth still open. The beast was gone.Like gone gone. Vanished. Vamoosed. Not even like really far away gone, just not there any more. I squinted. Yeah, that was a little too easy.

“Did we get away?”

I was actually about to answer her, when a glowing blue shape cashed into us from the side, just as I was starting to finally let my legs relax a little. Everything seemed to slow down. I know, everyone says that, but it’s true! I don’t know, maybe it was the whiskey sours, but as soon as we got hit, the world turned in to super slow-mo as the bike was ripped from my hands, and I felt Grace be pulled away from me.

This thing tossed us like a couple of rag dolls thrown from a child’s stroller being kicked by a football player. Or at least it started to go that way. Somehow, as the bike ground across the pavement, with just my left hand managing to keep any kind of hold on the bike, I managed to swing myself around it like a gymnast on a gold-medal winning vault-horse routine, snagged Grace’s bar apron with my free hand, and with sheer desperate strength, yank all three back together, right as the beast’s slavering maw snapped shut on empty air where Grace’s head had been just milliseconds before. Through pure accident of positioning, my toes raked across it’s eyes as my leg swung around and I slammed them back down on the pegs, jammed the throttle all the way open, even as Grace somehow managed to complete the circle I’d pulled her in, ending by straddling my hips, arms and hair akimbo while we slid sideways, fortunately tires first.

Grace’s eyes were wider than a kid who opened their eyes to Disneyland on a Christmas morning as she slammed into me, and I used our momentum to get the bike fully upright, only barely escaping a second snap from the beast as it lunged again, trying to tear us apart.

That near miss, and the sigh of relief I almost let happen, didn’t get a chance to last long.

Her damn hair was in my face, which at any other time, wouldn’t have been a problem, really, but just at that second, was incredibly, blindingly, distracting. And it might have saved our lives.

Something hot burned into my shoulder and face as the sound of crashing metal and people yelling slammed into me. Hm, spicy.

“Shit! Watch out! Sorry!” Grace called to the one lady who wasn’t running for the hills as we smashed through her food cart. Can you get third-degree barbecue sauce burns? Food trays, sauces and meat all went flying as we dervished our way right through the middle of her street-side restaurant, sweet and spicy and sticky all at once, all over the ground, and all over me and Grace as well. I couldn’t think of anything more than just keeping everything together and moving forward. Run. The only thought occupying my mind. Just run.

“Hey.”

The softness of her voice is what brought me back to the girl squished up against me and out of the rabbit-instinct flight mode I was in.

I don’t know why but for some reason, my brain decided that was the perfect moment to notice that I’d never realized how captivating the color brown could be. Grace’s eyes were less than inches from mine, and I froze for a second. Again.

“I think it’s stopped.”

I glanced back. The beast had been right on top of us when we hit the food cart, but now it was standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, sniffing around for all the world like the biggest, dumbest, glowiest dog you’ve ever seen. OK, a dog that could tear a truck apart like a box of tissues, but still.

“What the hell is it doing?”

“Maybe it’s hungry.”

I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud. I’d never seen one of these things just...stop like that. It didn't make sense.

No time to think of that right now, just enough time to dart down another alley, blocking the beast from view as it sat down to lap up all the spilled barbecued beef at its feet.

As we weaved and darted through alleys and parking lots, squeezing through sidewalks and darting across small streets, I started to recognize where we were now, and had the barest inkling of a plan besides ‘get away without dying.’

“Whatever that thing is, I think it likes barbecue.”

Grace’s whispered comment snapped me back to what was right in front of me, the whole reason I was in this kind of mess again in the first place. .

“Hunh?”

“I think it stopped to eat at the barbecue stand we knocked over. It’s not chasing us anymore- look.”

I tried to check the mirror again, only to find they’d both been ripped off by now, so switched to glancing over my shoulder quickly, and saw no ominous glow behind us, other than the few street lamps on the small boulevard we were going down.

“Barbecue?” I was still pretty confused. Probably drunk too. But definitely confused.

Grace’s laugh was carried away on the night like fireworks swept away in a light breeze. “Well, I dunno what the hell that thing was, but I haven’t met anyone yet who wouldn’t drop everything for good barbecue, honey.”

Raising an eyebrow, I laughed, “Well it’s good to see I’m not the only one here who can make wildly ridiculous comments with horrible timing!”

“Funny the things you think about when you should be focusing on other stuff that’s a little more important, hunh? Like right now, all I can think about is a nice rack of ribs.” Grace grew quieter as her head sank back down on to my shoulder. “Where we headed, sugar?”

“Somewhere close. Safe. I think.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The old loft was just as dank and dirty and run down on the inside as it looked on the outside. Probably worse. No diamonds in the rough here, that’s for sure. Broken glass scattered on the beat up industrial floor scattered the glow of the streetlight through the mist that filled the space. Definitely not up to my usual standard, but hey, we couldn’t really complain too much.

Throwing an old, discarded, and probably moldy, but definitely more disgusting than I wanted to ever touch again, mover’s blanket over the plate window helped to at least hide a little bit of how gross this place looked. Plus, privacy. A quick scan around and I found a pile of old tarps and a couple skeezy mattresses that I definitely wasn’t going to think about where they’d been or who’d done what on them for how long. It’d have to do. A dirty mattress was a small price to pay for still being alive.

"It's not the Four Seasons, but it'll do for now. It's kinda cold- I don't think the building even has heat, but I think we can keep warm enough to make it through the rest of tonight at least."

Grace flopped down heavily on the mattress, exhausted, shoulders slumped, staring vacantly at the floor.

"That was...was that...I don't even know where to start. My brain's been turned to oatmeal. What…? What happened? What in the name of all fucks just happened?"

“Yeah, there’s kind of a lot to unpack here isn’t there?” I just crumpled down into one of the old blankets like a sock puppet being dropped into its nest. “I’m not even sure where to begin.”

“Ya think? Like one minute, I’m trying to mind my business, working my shift at the bar, wondering whether I’m going to have to give another statement to the cops after another bar fight breaks out, and the next I’m getting tossed around like a hot sweet-potato, almost get eaten by a glowing, walking catfish that got beaten a little too hard with the ugly stick, get covered in barbecue sauce, do-si-doed by a goddamn motorcycle ninja, only to wind up in some place that looks like it was lifted straight out of Zillow for Crackheads!”

A snort of wry, tired amusement escaped me. “Yeah, I guess it really does look that bad here. I mean, I’m surprised this place is even still standing after all this time, but you’re right, it definitely looks a bit sketchy.”

“Way to avoid the point, hun.”

“Yeah, I know.” Not sure why, but she kept making me nervous, and the way she was sort of frowning while pinning me down with those sparkling coffee eyes definitely wasn’t helping. Probably just wasn’t used to people making eye contact. Which was the whole reason I was in this mess to begin with. Another sigh.

“Alright. I’ll explain as much as I can. You deserve that much.”

Grace flopped down on the edge of the mattress, chin propped in her hands for all the world like a kid during goddamn story time. How the hell was I supposed to concentrate when she’s doing things like that? Look away! Only way to save myself for now.

“OK, here goes. So the thing you saw? Well, it’s a…” I scowled. “It’s a...sunuvabitch, I don’t really know what it’s called. Alright, further back then. The basics. Got it.

“Supernatural things exist. Like you believe that humans are the highest species on this planet and that you’re all alone in the universe, and no one can quite agree on whether there was anything before or after this life or what happens when you die, right? Well, a lot of what most people believe to be myth or religious superstition is actually, um, real.”

So she hasn’t tried to run away just yet. That’s a good sign, right?

“From what I’ve been able to piece together, from the bits I can remember, what you would call ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ are real places- they’re just not really visible to mortals. Most of the time. ‘Angels’ and ‘demons’ are real things too, but they’re a little bit different than most people tend to think of them from what I’ve seen.

“I don’t know how many there are, but there’s angels and demons walking around, living just like you and me, every day. The thing is, that mortals like you can’t see them. And that’s where the problem is.”

“Like me?” It wasn’t really a question. Her tone made that clear enough.

“Oh boy. OK, here’s the big one- because with the heaven and hell stuff, most people can be like ‘meh, it’s all superstitious nonsense anyway’ and brush it off. This? Not so much.

“I’m not human. Or mortal. I can see angels and demons walking around plain as day, just like the ones I’ve met can see me. Mortals...see something else.”

“Like the creep at the bar earlier? Did he see...something else? In you?”

“Yeah. On the outside, at first glance, I look like any other girl. But look closer? Well, you saw what happened. People just aren’t ready to see my real nature.”

“But that didn’t happen to me.” Now Grace was looking a little bit confused- but the kind of confused you get when a teacher is explaining something that you know should make sense, even if you were having a hard time getting it.

“No, it didn’t. And it took me way too long to pick up on that. I should’ve realized right away. If I had, maybe I could have gotten you out of there faster and that whole ‘sweet potato’ thing wouldn’t have happened.”

“So what should I be seeing? When I look into your eyes I mean?”

“Probably something along the lines of falling through an eternally expanding universe, a sense that you’re tinier than a piece of sand in the scope of the cosmos, that sort of thing. At least, that’s what I’ve heard from a couple of the ones who were able to be slightly coherent afterwards. There haven’t been many of those over the years.”

“Wow. I definitely don’t see that.”

“And that’s the problem, really. I’ve never heard of something like that happening before. I don’t know what it means, or why you can, or anything! All I know is that something is very, very different, and very, very wrong, otherwise that thing wouldn’t have been after us. And right now, I don’t know if what’s wrong is you, or me, or both of us. But we need to find out if we’re going to not be looking over our shoulders for...what did you call it again?”

Grace laughed. A genuine laugh, not weighed down by worry or terror. “A glowing, walking catfish?”

“Ha ha, yeah, that got beaten too many times with the ugly stick!”

Grace sat up suddenly, nodding sharply to herself. “Alright, well, you’re either batshit crazy, or I owe my gran an apology.” Grace was still half chuckling, but looking very intent.

“Your gran?”

“Yeah, she was super religious, always prayin’, talkin’ and singin’ about god. She must’ve gone to church three times a week! Boy, would she have loved to hear all this.”

“I’ll bet!”

“So, I just wanna make sure I’ve got all the stuff you said- angels are real, and something’s wrong with the fact that I can see your real eyes, and not like, the fires of the Big Bang or something, but you don’t know why that’s a problem or what caused it.. Right?”

“I’d say that about covers it for now, yeah.”

“Alright, I can live with that much for now. I’m clean tuckered out, and you look like you’re about to just fall over any second now. Whaddya say we call it a night?”

“Yeah.” I really could barely keep my eyes open at this point. I guess pretending my motorbike was a juggling pin kind of took it out of me.

Grace popped up, suddenly all business.

“So doesn’t look like this place has a big ol’ tub to dump you in, so we’ll have to settle for a couple of wet wipes. Here, help me get these blankets on to the mattress here. They’re gross, but it’s better than freezing to death.”

“You’re the boss!” Those wet wipes were a pocket-sized blessing, wrapped in foil paper. I’m more of a Chanel and gunpowder type, not so big on the earthy, barbecue scents.

I was starting to stumble a bit as we plopped the discarded blankets down as well as we could in the relative darkness of the loft.

“Probably better to stay dressed with how dirty these blankets are.” Grace frowned as she watched me struggle to pick up one of the heavier blankets a couple of times.

That didn’t even register until much later.

“OK, you, lay down. No more for you tonight. Sleep.”

I couldn’t even argue with her. I just curled up in a ball on the bed, barely aware of Grace pulling a couple of the blankets over me, but I thought I could just make out her arm resting on mine as we both drifted off into the heavy, dreamless sleep that comes when you’ve been pushed to your limits. At least, I kind of hope it was.

=============================================

Story tag list

@random-with-garlic @a-dinosaurs-left-phgkneecap @flower-in-the-ashes @nixabee @luvnaught @pens-swords-stuff @alice-and-cheshire-cat @humans-are-seriously-weird @flying-f1shsticks @Neil-gaiman @glumshoe @lykanyouko @kaylewiswrites @just-a-bit-paranoid @thatsmybluefondue @Alice-and-Cheshire-cat @violet-galaxies @biggest-gaidiest-patronuses @midnight-spectrum-again @slytherinlovespuff @friendofcybermen @hemi528i @mirbisduschoen @khelladon @walkin-in-the-cosmos

As always, if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list, just shoot me a message and your wish is my command.

#flight from grace #supernatural #angels #demons #angelic fiction #wip #story #writeblr

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temporalwaveofmischief · 4 years

Text

Two pairs of feet were pounding against the gravel.

Tim opened both the driver and passenger side doors. After assisting Jay get into his seat, Tim got in and slammed the door, turned the ignition, and sped the hell out.

Tim's mind was in a million different places. His mind felt staticky. All his mind could think of was just getting the hell out.

He would never get used to its effects.

But, he managed to stand up to it right? He didnt even pass out. What changed? It could've been the adrenaline. From running into the tall grass field screaming Jay's name, to facing that asshole, it was possible.

'Okay.' Tim thought.

Next thing, where the hell were they going to sleep at? The car was the least ideal place for sleeping. And that thing and Alex were still out there. Motel it is.

Tim clutched the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

The adrenaline was starting to wear off. They needed to find a motel soon.

Finally.

At Jay's side of the car there was a dingy motel. Tim pulled into the parking lot and parked the car near the entrance.

When Tim turned off the car, he checked on Jay. Jay was babbling incoherently. His eyes were unfocused, and his mouth was slack.

"Jay," Tim began, "I'm going to check us into here. Can you follow me to the front desk and wait?"

Jay said nothing.

Then, Jay looked around.

"Mmhmm."

Tim exited out of the car, and helped Jay out of his seat. Tim slung an arm around Jay's shoulders and approached the lobby.

A woman who appeared to be in her late 40s was manning the desk. She had a cigarette hanging out of her fingers.

The lobby itself reeked of smoke and bleach.

When Tim walked inside, the woman looked up.

"Hello. Whaddya want?"

Geez. So much for feeling at home. Well, it is a dingy hotel that looks as though it was a local hangout for druggies. So, quality was not going to be part of the equation.

"Ah, yes, we would like to book a room."

The woman goes to the cork board behind the desk and gets a key. She hands it to Tim.

"What's wrong with your friend?" She asked, her lazy, glazed eyes suddenly observing Jay.

"He's drunk. He is a light-weight." Tim said tiredly, waiting for this lady to leave them alone so that they can sleep.

The lady surveyed them. Then she gave out a huff and said, "Enjoy your stay."

Tim and Jay went to their room and sat down on the bed. Since money was running low, they only got one.

"How're doing Jay?"

Jay just stared up at him.

Sigh.

"I think both of us need a good night's sleep. We'll be better once we recharge."

Jay remained silent.

Tim gave up and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash up.

Tim set up the camera on its tripod, and shed his trousers. Tim crawled on the bed and got underneath the covers.

"Come on, Jay. Time for bed."

Jay didn't respond.

Jay needed his sleep, so Tim got up and carried Jay to the bed. He tucked him into the covers and made sure he was warm.

Then, Tim got in beside him and turned off the bedside table.

"Good night, Jay."

Tim wrapped his arms around Jay's waist.

Tim woke up to a screaming Jay that was thrashing and crying. Tim tried to restrain Jay and calm him down, he received a kick in the face in return.

Tim fell to the floor in a dazed shock.

After the pain subsided after a few seconds, Tim restrained Jay again. Tim petted his hair and whispered comforting words like, 'everything is going to be okay.'

Gradually, Jay settled down and slowly went back to sleep. Tim wrapped his arms around Jay's form even tighter and kissed his hair.

Morning arrived when slivers of sunlight filtered through the blinds and hit Tim in the eyes.

Tim slowly opened his eyes, glaring at the sun for not allowing him to sleep longer.

Tim glanced over at Jay's sleeping form. Tim smiled at just how blissful he looks. Being on the road and running from people (and entities) that want you dead can rob a man of blissful peace. Something that most take for granted. Only when it's gone do you realize how much you've really needed it.

Tim ruffled Jay's hair and slowly got out of bed.

"Hey."

Tim was startled out of his mind. He was so startled in fact, he fell to the floor.

"O-oh. Hey Jay."

"Is tha' my name?"

Tim froze.

No. He can't. He-he can't!

"Jay, do you remember anything?"

Jay shook his head.

Tim pulled back his hair and brushed through them with his fingers.

Tim remembered his breathing exercises and let out erratic breaths. Slowly, he calmed himself down.

"Your," Tim began, "Your Jay Merrick."

"J-jay." Jay replied.

"Merrick." Tim finished. Jay looked down, and slowly wrapped himself in a blanket cocoon.

"And you're in a motel with me."

Jay looked up.

"Who are you then?"

Tim's heart wrenched.

"I'm Tim. Tim Wright."

Jay looked down again, immersing more of his body into the cocoon.

"Tim. Tim. Tim." Jay repeated his name over and over.

Tim let out an awkward chuckle, "Yeah, that's me."

Jay went silent. His eyes now had a blank film over them.

Tim shook Jay.

Nothing.

Sigh. At least that's progress.

Tim retreated to the bathroom and got showered and dressed. Once he got out, he made sure to replace the tape in the camera.

Tim's mind reeled. What was he going to do?He pretty much had no income, they were on the run from people trying to kill them, and Jay was mentally checked out.

But, his train of thought was soon disrupted when his stomach let out a loud, unruly growl. Before he was going to answer these questions and assess their situation, he was going to eat.

Tim went over to the bed.

"I'm going to get breakfast, Jay. Stay where you're alright?"

Where would he go?

Jay didnt respond.

Tim sighed once again, and tucked Jay snuggly into the blankets on the bed.

Tim went outside of their room and locked their door.

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

Tim unlocked the locks and stepped inside their room.

The breakfast was not the most terrible thing in the world, surprisingly.

He had eggs (which was burnt in some of the corners), fluffy pancakes drizzled in cheap syrup, and orange juice. His time in the café area was calm. He thought out some plans and ideas while he ate.

The plans were this: wait until Jay recovers.

Jay is in no condition to travel. If Tim were to go searching for something, and anything were to happen to Tim, then Jay would be vulnerable. And who knows what would happen to him.

"Breakfast." Tim called out to Jay.

Jay just laid there in the bed, his eyes transfixed in a nondescript corner of the room.

"You need to eat."

Tim put the breakfast on the nightstand. It was a simple breakfast: a muffin with some eggs and apple juice.

Tim grabbed the plastic cutlery and sat Jay up in the bed. Tim began feeding Jay.

Once he was finished, Tim disposed of the trash in one of their trash bins.

"Get some rest, bluejay."

Tim got out Jay's laptop and opened it up. He went to their YouTube and Twitter pages.

Tim spent the past few days in this routine.

Wake up. Get dressed. Check on Jay, make sure he's taken care of. Check their channel. Decipher codes with their followers until it was well into the night. Go to bed. Start again.

Then, there was a video uploaded to the channel.

The hooded stalker was looking for something in an abandoned building. Tim's blood ran cold when he saw it was a gun.

Then, the figure was descending down a street. Then, it turned down to a particular house, Tim's.

It was searching through his home. The cabinets, the living room. But then, he discovered that someone else had been in his home. Alex.

Fucking. Fantastic.

This set Tim incredibly on edge for the past few days.

To the point where Tim just. Cried in the bathroom. He threw things. He kicked and screamed. Tired. Just so fucking tired of this bullshit.

Jay seemed to make no progress whatsoever. Everytime he had tried to get him to do something. But, Jay would either respond with silence with that near lifeless glaze over his eyes, or with screaming.

Tim was in an especially dark place during that time. Self harming was on his mind frequently. He was just so. Fucking. Tired.

He had been dealing with terrible shit happening ever since day one.

But, if he did go through with the final act, Jay would get left behind. And, a small, possibly foolishly optimistic part of his brain didnt want to remove a chance of a happy ending for both of them.

To combat these feelings, Tim would play his ukulele and write in his journal. Just, random things. From little nonsensical stories he had been making up, to plans of what to do after this shitfest ends. It was... cathartic for him.

Then, a small beacon of hope came.

Tim was out on his usual run to get snacks from the gas station. It wasnt fancy, but it should get him going.

Tim drove back to their motel room.

Tim almost had a heart attack.

Jay was wandering outside of their motel room. Tim immediately got out, with the groceries, and led Jay back inside of their room.

"Where have you been?"

Tim froze. Jay seemed to be better. More coherent.

"Gas station." Tim replied, "needed some food."

"Are you alright, Jay?"

"Yeah?"

"You were really out of it for the past two weeks."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You were either staring off into space, or you were screaming. You didn't even remember your own name or where you were."

Jay sat in a stunned silence, digesting this information.

"W-what happened, Tim?"

Tim summarized everything that had happened and what their current situation is.

"We need to go back." Tim said.

"No, we do not."

"Yes, we do. We're at a dead end here. Alex was there. He was there waiting for us."

"Thus, we shouldn't go back."

"We have no other leads, bluejay." Tim said softly, his voice breaking on the last word. Tim began crying. He didnt know why he was crying. It could have been all the built-up stress and dark thoughts he had for the past few weeks.

Tim put his head in his hands.

Tim felt two arms snake their way across his body. This was what he needed. He just needed to be in Jay's arms.

"Let's get something to eat, yeah? You mentioned getting food from the gas station." Jay brought up.

"Y-yeah." Tim responded shakily.

Jay went over and got the contents from the bag.

They ate in silence.

They cleaned up, and went to bed.

Tim curled up against Jay, and Jay followed suit.

"Night, Tim."

"Night Jay."

And outside of their walls, there are entities beyond human comprehension, people who are willing to kill them without a moment's hesitation,

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keenge · 4 years

Text

I was holding her in my arms when the phone rang ... "It's 3:30 in the fucking morning this had better be important !!!" I said losing the dream. " Mat, it's T and I really do hate to bother you, but I think he is back," said my partner and best friend Theresa McCawley , " Beat patrol found her body about 30 minutes ago, down by the docks." " I'll be there in 15 minutes Teri. " and I hung up, got dressed and locked my door and left the house. My name is Mathias MacGregor and I have been a cop in Riverside, La. most of my adult life, was born and raised there, and the man my partner was referring to is known as the Dock Master ... this is our story.

It all started when a young girl, 16, was found beaten raped, brutally tortured and murdered on the East dock 8 years ago. Since then he has left 12 more bodies and so many unanswered questions it makes me sick. He had a calling card, my initials carved into the victims foreheads, a detail the press miraculously has never found out about.

It's been a year since he struck the last time, a year since he put a bullet into my chest and I put one into his leg and back, a year filled with pain rehab and booze and me tracking the few clues he has left behind.

The second victim was found less than a week after the first and it was the pathologist that mentioned the letters ... my name isn't well known outside the department and certainly not my middle initial, so it was obvious that a message was being sent since a letter arrived for me at the lab while we were waiting for the autopsy report.

She had been beaten and raped like the first girl but the torture was different, not by much, but enough to see the bastard knew what he was doing and was good at it, a beat cop brought me the letter having signed for it from a courier. Inside was my full name a description of both victims including marks left by the torture and one sentence, "These are only the beginning."

That was 8 years and 10 victims ago, but god it feels like a lifetime. I got close a year ago because he made one mistake, just one but it was enough to trap him. We just weren't prepared for the fight he put up, 2 officers dead, 3 more including myself wounded and a shit ton of publicity asking why we havent caught him. " Mat, the call went out on a cell and came straight to me, they know the rules." This is why I adore my partner and best friend, Teri can read me like a book.

There had been calls made over the radios for the first 4 victims but, after the 3rd and 4th had my initials on their foreheads as well as the first 2, we decided anymore would go out over special phones we had made for our department.

Don't get me wrong I don't hate the press, I just don't have much use for them to be honest. They twist words and actions and typically report only what they want.

After the first 4 victims they were already calling him the Dock Master, even though we had begged them not to, we had learned from other cities giving a serial killer a name tends to make them bolder and more ... violent.

"Do we have an I.D. on her yet?" I asked of nobody in particular, "No lieutenant, but she doesn't look like a typical street kid." I walked over knelt down and pulled the sheet back from her face, OH MOTHERFUCKER" I yelled, making everyone jump and turn towards me, " This is Mayor Thompson's daughter!!!" Teri looked at me with wide eyes and for the first time since the shooting last year I saw fear in her face.

Every single cop in Riverside knew Jesse Thompson, she was the city's darling because she was pretty and had a voice like an angel.

"Are you sure Mat" Teri asked in a hoarse whisper, "She is supposed to be in Chicago for the Cheerleading competition." "Yeah, I'm sure T, he didnt damage her face, except to leave his mark" I said, "I'll make the notification myself and meet you at the lab."

When I got to the lab I had a grim sense of satisfaction tempered with a pity I never thought I'd ever feel for the man i was sure was the biggest crook in our small part of the world. After the shooting, our esteemed Mayor, in his infinite wisdom, took to the press (see above opinions) and made us seem like the Keystone Kops.

I was personally accused of mishandling the evidence and the investigation and causing the deaths and injuries of my friends and comrades.

"Doc says it will be tomorrow before her report is ready Mat, go home and get some sleep for what it's worth, I'll go to the office then head home myself" said Teri when I walked through the doors. "Come by the house when your done at the office if you want T, we could both use some stress relief about now" I said with a sad smile. " You still have your key, I'll be in the shower and you can join of you want." She smirked hugged me and whispered " Only if you promise to be a little rough" and walked away towards the exit.

Teri and I have known each other for 25 yrs and it wasn't until 3 yrs ago that either of us ever really thought about being anything but friends, as strange as that sounds, we were both either with someone or only one of us was single or whatever the case may be but it took that long, but damn it was worth the wait.

When she got to my house I was in the shower as promised, as she came into the bathroom I could tell she had been crying, so I stood under the water waiting for her to decide what she was going to do, as she stepped in I grabbed her, pushed her against the wall, and fell to my knees in front of her, grabbed her thighs and pushed them apart.

I slid my tongue into her wet slit, flicking her clit, as I grabbed her breasts with my hands and played with her nipples. "OH MY GOD YES" she yelled, as I gently sucked her clit into my mouth, and rubbed it between my upper and lower teeth, as she came she grabbed my hair pulling me up and said "FUCK ME NOW"

As we were in the tub she shoved me down, grabbed me in her hand and squeezed, as she stroked slowly smiling at me, then swung her leg over and lowered herself onto my face, allowing me to find her clit and lips with my tongue, as she took me in her mouth, and slowly licked and sucked up and down my manhood, while I was licking and sucking her womanhood until she finished on my face and in my mouth,"God that feels amazing" she said letting me out of her mouth, she turned and rolling onto her back, pulled me over with her and taking me in her hand she guided me inside of her slowly, squeezing and caressing me inch by inch until I was all the way in, then she wrapped her legs around me, looked into my eyes, and said "Fuck me as hard as you can". So I did, and we both came, her at least 2 more times as I filled her with mine, then I slid down her body and proceeded to lick and suck her clean, making her cum again, then I picked her up and held her in my arms as she cried again, I held her till she was finished , then we laid down on the bed, and went to sleep snuggled together, in what would be the last decent sleep we would get for almost 6 months.

When we woke up that afternoon we didnt say much, just cleaned up and headed back to the lab where the coroner, Gina Dubois, was waiting with her report. " This is a bad one Mat, he has added to his repertoire. She died due to almost total exsanguination ... she lost about 95% of her total blood volume. But before she died he hurt her bad, I counted 146 broken bones, almost every single muscle, tendon and ligament was either stretched or torn, she was beaten worse than the rest ... " , she paused and I could feel the anger and frustration radiating from her, "She was raped repeatedly with a sharp double edged weapon both vaginally and analy, then he forced salt inside of her with a large rounded blunt object about 10 inches in diameter ... he tore her open inside so bad that even if she had been in a hospital she would have died!" " He also raped her and left fluids behind which we are analyzing now, but there is something else ..." and again she paused. "What is it Gina?" Asked Teri. Gina still hesitated, then finally spoke. "He left something else behind inside of her, a letter addressed to Mat" she said, " The letter is in my office since I haven't logged it into evidence yet." "Gina, what are you hiding?" I asked, "Not logging evidence is not like you, and you are kinda worrying me right now." "Fucking A and you should be worried, Mat he knows your full name, not just the goddamned initials, he knows you almost intimately," she said, "You don't even have your middle name listed officially anywhere, I know, I checked, so how the hell does he know so much about you?" Now I am not the kind of person that gives out my personal information to anyone, so for the bastard to know so much... " Gina, Teri, I swear I don't know, only 5 or 6 people know that name, there is a fucking reason I don't use it," I said, "The man that raped my mother and got her pregnant, he ... he kept tabs on her, and when she went into labor he followed her to the fucking hospital, and after I was born, he just walked in proud as you fucking please, and added a name to my birth certificate, my middle name... God I hate the name, but I have used what happened to her to become the cop I am, my middle name is, Dubois..." I heard Gina and Teri both draw in sharp breaths as they digested what I had just told them. I went into Gina's office and found the letter, and walked outside debating on who could know my full name, and hate me enough to do this kind of fucked up bullshit in my city.

Teri caught up to me as I was getting in my truck, "Mat" she began, "I am so sorry, you never told me anything about your childhood or growing up with what happened to you. But it doesn't change who you are, you are still my partner and goddammnit I need you to be at your best because this fucker is killing children in our city and he almost got you, so snap the fuck out of what ever funk your in and let's get to work and catch this maniac!" Leave it to Teri to put it so plainly and yet so perfectly, " Ok, T, your right, we need to go to the hospital so I can talk to Ashley, she needs to know about the letter." The letter! I hadn't even looked at it yet, and suddenly I was afraid to! Before I go too much further let me explain a bit more... Ashley Wise was the doctor that operated on me and the other cops that were wounded in the failed attempt to catch this bastard, but more importantly she is my baby sister.

"She is one of the very few people that know my full name so I need to talk to her ASAP."

I now my grammar and punctuation is atrocious but bear with me it is a work in progress

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snexy-the-snail · 5 years

Text

~If you're stressy and depressy riase your hand~

A wonderful marvel prompt! My ask box is always open for requests!!! ^♡^))

Peter hated it when his spider powers dialed everything up to like eleven. It was impossible to focus and the constant thrum of danger was pricking the back of his mind constantly. He all but sprinted out of the school when the last bell rang. He wanted out, he wanted his mentor to tuck him away from all the stupidly loud noises.

He didn't hesitate to pop a pill into his mouth when he got up to the penthouse of the tower. He bit down hard, the familiar taste of blue raspberry flooding his mouth. Technically he was supposed to swallow the pill but he honestly could wait, everything was just so loud and out of place.

"Jarvis, Mr.stark in his lab right?" He calls out to the AI as he starts shrinking, none to bothered with it. He was so used to the feeling by now it was actually a comfort. It meant that everything was going to be alright. Sure it wasn't normal but it helped with his issues so it was perfect.

"No. Sir is currently at a press conference in China."

Peter pauses in surprise at that, he felt mildly betrayed he hadn't gotten that information earlier before he turned himself into a bite sized snacks. He groans softly and fiddles with his web shooters aiming it at the ceiling, Mr.Stark would totally flip if he stayed on the ground like this, so he shot a web at the ceiling and started hauling himself up. The pounding in his head was getting unbearable and annoying. He would take almost anyone at this point.

"Great, perfect." He hisses sarcastically to himself shooting another web to swing more to the counter. Maybe he could get Mrs.potts to tuck him away, he was pretty desperate at the moment truthfully. Man tumblr would have a field day with this.

"I just want to be in a nice quite tum, is that too much to ask?" He whines hanging from his web, trying to judge how many swings it would take to get to the counter. He grumbles unhappily hating just everything at the moment. He was mad at his mentor for not being there, and slightly mad at Mrs.Potts as well.

He lets a small huff of disappointment out staring at the counter longingly, he really needed to start carrying the reverse pill as well so he didn't get stuck like this. He frowns and kicks his feet back and forth just waiting in general to figure out what he wanted to do, he didn't even notice Bucky entering the room

"...what's wrong webs?" Bucky asks slowly not sure what he walked in on. Peter seemed pretty damn angry about something another weird thing he was small, he never got to see the kid so tiny.

He was very surprised to see Peter awkwardly swing around until he was facing him. He shifts slightly as the kid stares at him intently before sighing dramatically.

"Everything is to loud, Mr.Stark isn't here and I ran out of the other pills."

Alright so the kid was just having a tough time, he wasn't sure why that meant he was small but he was going to roll with the punches. He personally didn't know the web slinging vigilante very well but Tony was very fond of the kid.

"Is there..anything I can do?" He asks slowly not exactly sure what to do with the web slinging hero. He didn't really try to interact with many of the people in the tower, he didn't want to come across as rude when he wasn't sure how to answer something and stayed quite.

He wasn't prepared for the kid's look of utter relief at his offer. He wasn't sure what the small child would want but he would do his best to make him happy, anything to get on Tony's good side.

"There is something, but it's kinda super weird and I don't usually ask people because it makes them uncomfortable but I'm just so stressed with school and my spidey sense is driving me nuts today you know-"

Bucky honestly was going to ask what it was but the kid was on a roll already taking a deep breath to finish his long winded story.

"You probably don't, anyway sense Mr.Stark isn't here can you eat me?"

Bucky wasn't sure he heard the kid correctly. He wasn't exactly sure why the hell the kid would want to be eaten but who was he to judge? Maybe he just misheard? Probably.

"Eat..you? I heard that correctly right?" He asks slowly wanting to be sure. The kid nods eagerly clinging onto his strang of web or fishing wire. Whatever it was keeping the hyperactive ball of sunshine in the air.

"Yep! Well Mr.Stark likes to refer to it as hiding away but yeah." Peter continued. He hadn't seen Bucky around a lot but he was at the tower and he was Steve's friend which automatically made him trustworthy. At this point he didnt care who it was, hell he'd even go to Sam at this point. Judging by the winter soldier's face however it probably wouldn't be happening if he didnt hype it up.

"Okay okay, it sounds crazy, I get it, but it'll seriously help me out! And it helps you too, Mr.Stark says it's oddly calming having someone so close, plus it's safe for both of us." He says smiling slyly.

"How..is eating someone safe?...and Stark does it?" Bucky asks slowly, Peter relaxing a bit. If he was questioning it that meant it was being considered.

"Well sense I'm smaller my molecules are tightly packed, plus I'm like too dense to digest, oh oh and as a safeguard Mr.Stark put a chemical in the pill so the acids wont hurt me." Peter says with a tight grin. Wow his head was really pounding now. He had no idea what caused his over sensitivity but it was a bitch and be wanted it gone. Instantly.

"Please Mr.Winter soldier Barnes sir, I..it helps a lot with my senses, please." He begs before the man could even open his mouth to respond. He didn't care if he sounded like a pouty kid he wanted to be hidden the frick away right now. The world was to loud and he hated it.

He was fully expecting a no when the silence went on, be squirmed uncomfortably on his web strand just wanting a decision to be made out loud.

"...how..how do we do this?"

Oh frick yes.

Peter grins widely practically vibrating with excitement. He was finally going to be able to rest. He never had anyone else hide him away so he wasn't exactly sure, Mr.Stark just went for it really.

"Okay, so like obviously I'm going to need to be in your mouth, then all you have to do is swallow and bam mission accomplished." Peter says with a grin, gratefully climbing onto the man's hand when it was offered. He wondered what Mr.Stark would think about this, it was kinda their special thing.

He steadies himself as Bucky brings his hand to his face, a bit too fast but Peter could manage that, and hesitantly opened his mouth like he was doing something wrong. Peter didnt waste a second before eagerly crawling into the soldier's mouth, marveling at how much chillier it was compared to his mentor.

"Woah you're a lil cold, that's kinda awesome." He says with a small smile. He laughs slightly and shifts a bit so he would be laying down, it would make it a lot easier for Bucky, none to bothered by the slick muscle pressing against his front. It was more of a comfort than anything now.

"Tumblr would so freak if I took pictures now." He whispers to himself, grinning widely when Bucky closed his mouth slowly. It was dark sure but he got used to it by now besides he didnt have much time to focus on the missing light, Bucky apparently realized he needed to slick him up for the trip down and was rolling him around. It was slightly rougher than Mr.Stark but still gentle, he never once hit any teeth, and the cool muscle slid over him multiple times leaving him coated in salvia soon enough. He laughs slightly and pushes blindly at the slick muscle after a few minutes of being licked and rolled around.

"I'm good!" He calls out grinning widely. He could hear every shaky breath the man took, he was obviously nervous but Peter didnt blame him, it wasnt exactly normal to swallow another person whole. His cheeks hurt with how much he was smiling but he couldn't help it, this was just so ridiculously relaxing for him.

"Send me down Mr.Bucky winter soldier sir!" He says doing a mock salute even if he knew it wouldn't be seen.

"Ah yis." Peter says to himself when he started slightly back, Bucky tilting his head which meant the swallow would be coming very soon. He grins and lays flat not wanting to hurt the man even if it would've been completely accidental.

A loud swallow and he was already up to his hips in the threat, tense muscles rippling over him preparing for the next swallow. It was slightly more hesitant but another swallow pulled him down fully and he was sliding slowly down to the core of the Winter Soldier.

While it wasn't extreme cold Bucky was a lot colder on the inside than he expected, certainly not the 90 degrees he was used to in his mentor. He didnt have a lot of time to ponder it before he was squeezed into his final destination. Bucky was definitely tense, the muscles nowhere near being relaxed, more like a sheet pulled really tight, so he did the logical thing and started pressing into the mess of tightness.

"Don't be so tense, it's fine! Seriously I'm fine!" He calls out pressing his hands deep into the muscle, not surprised at all when he sunk a few inches. He gathered Bucky wasnt exactly a talker, but that was fine, Mr.Stark went to meetings a lot with him 'hidden away' so he didnt get to talk to his mentor a lot during those days.

"And..stark..he's alright with this?"

Woah Bucky's voice was a lot gruffer than Mr.Stark's, it seemed to bounce around a little more than his too. Man he'd have to keep a journal on what avenger had what type of stomach.

"Yeah he'll be fine with this, we do it all the time no worries." Peter says waving dismissively before going back to kneading the tense muscles, thankfully the winter soldier seemed to be relaxing so the knots were slowly untensing leaving soft chilly muscles instead. They sat in silence for a moment before Peter's phone buzzed.

"Oh...I am so fucked." Peter whispers looking at the message his mentor had sent. One thing was for sure they'd having a nice little chat when Mr.Stark returned.

Peter hoped Bucky could hide because there was going to be an intense game of hide and seek in a little bit.

((Up next is some Good old Good omens vore-))

#prompt!#avengers vore #p//petey-pie is having a bad day-#b//bucky is trying to help #snex content

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